The sounds of Mr Gregor’s old cottage spooked children for generations. He was born on the 27th of June, 1837. His mother and father were highschool sweethearts. Mr Gregor was the 2nd born, an older brother before him. The sibling rivalry was constant, brutal, and bloody. Their parents tried to keep the peace, but as the boys grew, the jealousy and competition only escalated.
One cold October night, the rain was pouring and the flooding sirens resonated. Holland Grove was mostly flat, with surrounding hills. At least once a year, Hollanders felt with the forces of heavy rain. There’s bunkers scattered about, to store extra food and sand bags.
John Gregor quickly snatched his hat & rain coast from the coat tree, right inside the front door. To the left of the tree, was a solid shoe bench. It was extra large, clear coated, and a gorgeous cherry wood finish. He plumped down and wickedly slipped on his rain boots.
Taylor was right behind him. The boys are only 2 years apart. He snagged his heavy coat and slipped on his boots.
Neither of the boys knew how deep the waters had gotten. They heaved forward, pulling themselves along with their walking sticks. They were checking on the elderly neighbors.
Before that night was over, in the late hours, Taylor returned home. John didn’t make it back.
All these years later, when it rains, the older kids from the Grove said you could hear a man’s growling. They’ve said to have seen a dark haired young man, about 30.. Roughly 6′ 4″, standing by the window.
Being written for Rachael Mark’s prompt seen here. Photo taken from Pinterest.
Anastasia paused at the moment she saw him. She would surely be thought rude for staring; but, she couldn’t do anything else. He was dark and handsome, standing at 6′ 5″. His top hat and peacoat created an illusion of him taller in height. From where Anastasia stood, she could see he had a thin but masculine physique. He stood facing her, with his feet shoulder length apart, and a cane resting in front of him.
She shivered, suddenly, as if an ice cube just fell the length of her spine. This usually happens to her when her spiritual life was trying to speak to her. For another moment, she remained there, at the bottom of the stairs. His whole aura was intriguing and mysterious. There was something about him that tempted Anna’s desire.
After what seemed like a lifetime, she took five steps forward, and began walking up the stairs. The centertown college was old England architecture. The market was a gorgeous structure of stone and masonry work. Anna has adored the brilliant sculptures and intrigue details artists put into their masterpieces.
While lost in her thoughts, and unfortunately by the time she reached the upper landing, her mysterious gentleman had vanished. She pressed up against the wall to overlook the town square. No, he wasn’t there. She delicately galloped through the narrow street, splashing through a puddle in the process. He was nowhere to be found. With much disgust, Anastasia surrendered her search.
The day had begun it’s transition to early evening, and the weather was quite cool. It was time to return home and prepare dinner. She hoped to see him again, if fate allotted.
Jersey ran five miles every morning. He has always enjoyed time alone, in nature.
One particular morning, he came across an old vintage car. The hood was up, as if someone needed repairs and was to return with parts.
Jersey walked over to the window and peeked inside. There, on the passenger seat, sat a manilla envelope. This wasn’t weathered as if it’s been here awhile.
“How strange!” He thought to himself.
No sooner did he delicately remove the envelope, Jersey was spooked by a nearby snapping of branches.
Forbidden to abandon this discovery, he replaced the findings and jogged his way back home.
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields: Friday Fictioneers (sorry a few days late.) It’s a challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture prompt provided.