Uncanny Tales – (064) The Final Revenge

 

Tom and Mark Lewis were fraternal twins and growing up were each other’s best friend as well and roamed the countryside of the Vale as they grew from boys to men and there was no reason why their friendship wouldn’t survive into adulthood had it not been for the fact that Tom betrayed his brother by sleeping with Mark’s fiancé Dakota the night before their wedding.

As a result, Mark was unable to forgive either of them and suffice is to say that the wedding didn’t go ahead, he also refused to pay any of the bills related to the wedding and referred all of them to “the slut”.

He also published pictures of both of the culprits and blackened their names on social media. 

In addition, he set up a rival business in direct competition to his brother with the sole intention of stealing trade from him and undercut his rival at every turn and try to break him.

But Mark wasn’t satisfied with that, he also dogged Tom in his leisure time as well and even holiday’d in the same location, even though he could well afford to holiday at more upmarket resorts and he ate at the same restaurants.

However, it wasn’t until 8 years after the initial betrayal that Mark was able to draw a line underneath it and get on with his life.

 

It happened on the Greek island of Andros in the Cyclades and Mark was sitting on his balcony looking down on the square in Batsi and below he could see Tom sitting at a table at the Medusa bar and he made sure that he saw him watching and even gave him a wave.

“Who are you waving to?” Gemma asked from his bed

“Your husband” he replied

IN MY DREAMS

 

In my dreams

I see you clearly

I reach out to touch you

And you hold me in your arms

I feel your tender caress

As you envelope me

As your love embosoms me

And my pain melts away

When I awake
I am alone and breathless

But content and at peace

Uncanny Tales – (062) The Best China

 

Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story takes place in Brassington, a large sprawling village nestled in the wooded hills on the southern edge of the Dancingdean Forest in the south east corner of Downshire.

 

It was Gemma Morris’s 29th birthday and she was being picked up by her sister Charlotte as they were going into the village for lunch at The Timberman.

As she walked along the path from White Rose Cottage down to her sister’s waiting car, a couple were just leaving the house next door, a busty redhead of about her own age and a taller gaunt looking man with starey eyes, she hadn’t met them before, but she understood they were brother and sister, the Moors, so she smiled and said

“Good morning”

Well, she couldn’t believe that two such innocuous words could have the effect of lighting the blue touch paper, but that was exactly what happened because the man virtually exploded and launch an array of expletives the like of which she’d never heard before in her life.

And the apparent provocation for the verbal assault was the fact that Charlotte had stopped her car with the front wheel over hanging the Moor’s drive.

The busty redhead tried her best to calm him down, but Gemma sensibly didn’t react and ignored him, and opened the car door.

“Hi Charlotte” she said

“I think I’ve just met the new neighbours”

“Yes” she said still smiling “he’s a colourful character”

“Well, his language certainly is” Gemma said and then added “She’s nice though”

 

When she returned home after having had a very pleasant lunch with Charlotte, she was dropped off about 90 minutes after the incident and there was no further confrontation with the neighbours on that occasion as she walked along the path, though she did notice the curtain twitch, so Gemma turned and smiled.

She was relieved that there was no repeat of the unprovoked verbal abuse by the neighbour, so she went in the house and closed the door.

 

Gemma was indoors for about forty minutes and as she left the house, she saw the angry neighbour’s redheaded sister walking towards her.

Despite her smiley response to the initial assault she was actually quite hurt about being called vile names, but it was being called a fat arsed dumb bimbo which hurt the most, and being called a “woman” driver when she wasn’t even driving, she’d never thought of herself as a dumb bimbo, or fat arsed, in fact she was a smart cookie and her arse was widely regarded as pert, and she was an advanced driver.

She was a bit angrier now the insults had sunk in, and she was up for a fight, so she braced herself.

“I’m sorry about earlier” Joanne Moor said completely disarming her.

“My brother Clinton is bi-polar, and it makes him a bit unpredictable”

“Where is he now?” she asked

“He’s gone home” she replied

“Come in for a coffee, by way of an apology, I’ve just unpacked the best China”

Although she was short of time, she was going to politely decline her offer but then decided to accept because she had something on her mind, so instead she replied.

“That would be nice, thank you”

 

It was getting dark by the time she returned home, and she was feeling very satisfied indeed at the way good neighbourly relations had been established, however it wasn’t the best China she had been drinking from all afternoon.

I WANT YOU

 

I want you to hold in my arms

I want to look into your eyes

I want to feel your heart beat

I want to hear your sighs

 

I want to hear your voice

I want to feel your touch

I want to kiss your lips

Because I love you so much

Uncanny Tales – (061) Slaying the Dragon

 

In the small but thriving English county of Downshire people go about the tasks of their everyday existence in ways that range from the mundane to the extraordinary as their forebears had done for centuries before, in the varied and diverse landscape, from the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, to the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and the short but beautiful coastline to the east, but it’s in the old market town of Abbeyvale where the participants of this tale live their lives, and Morella Garcia was enjoying the early June sunshine.

It was her day off and she was taking advantage of it, she had been for a walk, and as she was a tall and slender brunette with an ample bosom, she wore a dress that showed off her assets, and her beauty combined with a complexion that betrayed her Spanish heritage meant she did not go unnoticed.

So, when the Twenty-five-year-old braless beauty was only a few doors from her house she saw her neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Brown and their pretty red headed daughter Dakota, leaving their house and as was her habit she smiled and said

“Good morning”

Genuinely expecting the customary response of echoing the greeting but instead got something quite different.

“I’ll give you good morning your Italian slut” she bawled

“You keep your eyes off my husband”

Morella was not, due to her Latin temperament, averse to the idea or indeed the execution of dragging the mouthy bitch over the fence and giving her a slap, but instead chose something that would enrage her even more.

“Actually, I’m Spanish and I have no interest in your husband” she said “I would happily entertain your daughter though”

With that Mrs. Brown launched into a tirade of abuse which was made worse by the fact Morella smiled at the woman as she was raging.

Poor Mr. Brown had to physically restrain her and manhandle her towards the front door.

 

Sitting on her patio later that day she reviewed the events of the morning, trying to discern what, if any, offence she could have caused, but could think of none, because the last thing she was expecting when she said “good morning” to the Browns was to be verbally abused and warned to stay away from Mr. Brown.

In truth Morella hadn’t really looked at him prior to the abuse and when she did look him over after the event, she didn’t think he was anything special, and she wasn’t generally fussy when it came to sexual partners.

She was just musing over whether she should go out that evening to find someone that did tick her boxes when the doorbell rang.

As she prepared to open the door, she was hoping it wasn’t “Mouthy Brown” looking for round two but when it opened, she delighted and surprised to find instead her 17-year-old daughter Dakota, and she took a moment to drink in the vision of every inch of her five-foot tall, pale skinned, slender frame, from her flame-coloured hair down to her dainty size 3 feet.

“Hi Morella” she said quietly

“Hello Dakota” she replied, “Did your mum send you?”

“Oh no” she replied, and her cheeks flushed scarlet

“I’ve come to be entertained”

It took a moment for her reply to sink in but when the penny dropped, she took hold of her hand and said

“Well, you’ve come to the right place lovely”

 

So, she didn’t need to go out to find a box ticker after all, because in the end she had a doorstep delivery, and it was well after dark when Dakota returned home.  

AS THE SUN SET OVER THE SEA

 

As the sun set over the sea

Filling the sky with an orange hue

I held your hand

And beheld that wondrous view

Then I squeezed your hand

And said “I love you”

I held my breath

Until you said “I love you too”

Mornington-By-Mere – (99) the Cello Recital

 

Mornington-By-Mere is a small country village lying in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.

It is a quaint picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.

But Mornington-By-Mere was not just a quaint chocolate box English Village it was the beating heart of the Finchbottom Vale and there were a number of cottages and small houses on the Purplemere road and Dulcets Lane which formed the part of Mornington Village known as Manorside and among them were Brooke Side Cottages where the Incles and the Kundu families lived.

 

Annemarie Incles loved music, it was her life, she played the Cello and she was a student at the Purplemere Park Music Academy, and she had aspirations to play for the Downshire Symphony Orchestra, but although music was her first love, it wasn’t her only love.

Second place in her heart went to Michael Kundu, the boy next door, the only problem was getting him to make a move.

She knew that his reluctance wasn’t because he didn’t feel the same way as her it was just that he was desperately shy.

But Annemarie had lost her heart to Paul and her failure to win his was not an option so she put her plan into operation.

 

The Purplemere Park Music Academy was funded by the Downshire Symphony Orchestra and they used the well-appointed facilities several times a year, especially the large rehearsal space as well as smaller soundproof rooms which were used for individual practice.

Michael also loved music and was also a student at the PPMA, his instrument however was the Clarinet, and although he was competent he wasn’t in Annemarie’s league, so he needed to take every chance he could to practise and was always the first one there and was the last one to leave and before he turned in he always did a walk around before he turned the lights off and locked up.

Michelle knew that and so it would be late at night and in one of the soundproof rooms where she would set her trap.

 

So it was late on Friday evening when he had finished practising and was doing his walk round that he heard the strains of Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 emanating from one of the small rooms through a partially open door.

It was Michael’s favourite piece so Annemarie knew it would get his attention.

He peered in through the half open door and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Erika sitting in the middle of the room facing him with the great polished instrument between her long black stocking clad legs, her wavy red hair dancing across her naked shoulders and brushing her alabaster skin and along with her stockings, and an emerald green dress she was wearing a smile.

His heart was pounding in his chest as she was playing his favourite piece, and looking stunning.

He had always loved her but she was out of his league in every sense so for years he had consoled himself by being her friend so he could stay close and as a friend he could admire her in secret, at least he thought it was a secret.

Without speaking he walked into the room and closed the door behind him and his eyes never left her while she played and he circled the beautiful pale skinned cellist perched on a stool and he drank in the beautiful smiling girl along with the Bach.

“Do you like the Bach?” she asked

“I love the Bach” he replied

“I know” she said “Do you like anything else?”

“Oh yes”

“Do you like what I’m wearing?” she asked seductively

“Oh yes, very much, I think you look lovely” he replied “Are you going somewhere?”

“Maybe” she replied enigmatically

“But you got dressed up just in case” he asked

“I got dressed up for you” she said and stopped playing

“For me?” he asked with surprise “Why?”

“To get your attention” she said and put her cello on its stand and stood up “I do have your attention don’t I?”

“Oh yes” he replied “but I don’t understand”

“Maybe this will help” she said and leant forward and kissed him and then added

“Did that help?”

“I’m still a little confused” he replied and then he kissed her