A Dutchie Party

Hello all,

For those of you who may recall, I have in my arsenal of friends a lovely friend from the Netherlands (also known as Holland). My friend, Lieke, inspired the post, "The Dutch," and now has inspired another. 

This past week I went over to Lieke and her husband's house to attend a Dutchie Party - a birthday party, no less. It was Like's birthday and I knew I was in for a cultural and wonderful treat.

For my long time readers, you know of my affinity for baking. Birthday cakes happen to be my specialty, but I'm not talking about your standard sheet cakes. Oh no. What I made for Lieke's birthday, was a dark chocolate tart cake with Grand Mariner and a hint of orange. It may have ended up looking like this:

Yep. It tasted as good as it looked, but we'll get to the feasting part in a minute.

While Lieke, my friend Christy and I caught up, Lieke's husband made us dinner. This is a normal routine in the household and Stephan is an AMAZING cook. Christy was given an assignment by Lieke to write her birthday card entirely in Dutch, a language that neither Christy or I could begin to speak correctly.

 But, Christy is an excellent friend and did as requested marvelously. Of course, the words that she wrote were literal (like, how in the States if we said, "it's raining cats and dogs," Americans know that to mean it is raining heavily, butt people in some countries would duck for cover because those words together do not translate to have the same meaning) and apparently she read like someone from South Africa, but the heart was there and that was evident.

We all sat down together and ate ridiculously good Dutch pancakes. What's a Dutch pancake you may be wondering? Well, unfortunately, they were so good that I did not stop to take a photo of them, but here's my attempt to define their goodness: imagine a thin pancake, not so thin as a crepe, but not so thick as your average American pancake. They are usually served with raisins in the batter, but due to the fact that the market we visited did not have raisins, we went without. They are also usually served either sweet or savory - sweets tend to have apple slices right inside of the batter, whereas savory have BACON!!!!!!!!!!!! Cooked right into them. Can you tell which was my favorite? 

With the bacon ones, we spread Dutch syrup on top and rolled them up like you would a stuffed crepe.. The syrup was thick, but not like molasses. It went perfectly with the bacon. For the apple pancakes, we put cinnamon or an apple spread, which was like apple jam.

The food was incredible and Stephan kept bringing pancake after pancake to each of our plates. I honestly have no idea how many I consumed, but it felt like a lot.

After the delightful dinner, we sat at the table a long while, planning our next adventure. During the span of this, I went to use the restroom (uh-oh, a bathroom story!). Everything was fine until I realized after flushing, that there was a significant amount of water on the floor. I looked at the toilet and realized that water was pouring out from the back tank of the toilet! I kid you not, I had just been thinking, "Wow, this is a great place to live. I hope to find a place like this where everything is cutesie and works properly." Alas, it was as though I had set up the curse intentionally.

Calmly, I approached Lieke and Christy to say, "I hate to be the bearer of this news, but the toilet is leaking from the back and there is water all over the floor."

We all went rushing into the bathroom to see what was going on. Armed with one or two towels, which were soaked in a minute's time, we flushed the toilet to see what was going on. Sure enough, the water was coming out from the top of the back tank. We lifted the top of the tank to see if the water was not draining properly, only to have a gushing tube shoot water out at all of us, getting us and the bathroom only more wet. 

Several side splitting laughs later, I was able to turn off the water going into the toilet, stopping the intense water flow from further spraying us. So what caused this unlikely oddity? Lieke and Stephan told us that the building supers had been working on the water pipes, so they were not terribly surprised that something like this would happen. Let me tell you, I still felt bad for being the lucky soul to raise their awareness to this issue, but luckily I was armed with cake.

After Lieke tested her other bathroom (it was ok) and called maintenance (they only have emergency responses to "plugged up toilets"....) we all sat down and prepared ourselves for the dark chocolate treats. 

Christy and I both asked for smallerish pieces and we knew that Lieke was likely to return with just a bite, but what she came to us with was a bit of an embarrassing amount of riches.

We laughed, we talked Lord of the Rings, and dreamed of lands void of spiders (legend has it that there are no spiders in New Zealand, and if you know the truth to this and if it is contrary to my belief, please don't crush my dreams....Christy!)

We didn't leave Lieke's place until well after midnight. Staying awake at work the next day proved to be an interesting and entertaining challenge, but it was worth it. As you all well know, my mantra is "Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit." - Henry David Thoreau.

Now go on, everyone, go eat yourself some home made chocolate cake.

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

PS - I gave myself bangs this week. As my dear readers, I trust and rely on your responses. What do you think? Should I change my picture on the blog at the top of the page, from me with Asia in the background (in the photo, I'm in Europe with Asia behind me) to the following picture depicting my "tude". As you can see, the picture is complete with cat tower and a scrimshaw necklace with a tall ship on it. It's up to you, readers, to let me know what you think! Please leave a comment below with your opinions!

A Long Holiday

Happy New Year dear readers! 

May it already have left you with a open mind and an open heart.

Three day weekends have always been an extra special treat for us working folks, but this weekend was gilded on the calendar for me. I'm averaging six days a work week, more typically seven; having a two day weekend is extraordinary, so when three full days of openness appeared in my sights, my spine began to tingle with excitement. A three day holiday, three days of freedom. It was a daunting task to wait for this weekend of liberty, but I think I performed the task and saw through the dream masterfully. Curious? Well, settle in and come along for the adventure.

The flu had been staring me in the face all week, seeping it's creeping clutches into my body, but my determination to enjoy my weekend was champion!

 

The holiday started when I hopped off a boat with ripped pants, a large new throbbing bruise on my thigh, and a broken nail. (Working on ships is not always so glamorous as Hollywood makes you believe, but it is still wonderfully fun.) Even these seemingly negative moments were nothing to weigh down my good mood. I rushed to the house of my bestie, borrowed a pair of her jeans (a thousand thank yous to you, Toriiiiii!) and we were off! I had endured a tougher than usual week at work, fighting the flu being the least of my worries, so even seeing my bestie was enough to make my weekend great. But we were off of one of our adventures - laughter, silliness, and good food are standard details in our time together. 

We drove to La Jolla to enjoy tapas and happy hour at Roppongi, an exquisit sushi bar. We shared three yummy dishes of spicy calamari, ahi tuna, and hummus. We laughed and tasted delicious food and sipped superb cocktails. 

From there we went on a little walk to find a sweet spot for wine and dessert. We found a little restaurant, called the Hake, that neither of us had noticed before, but boy were we glad when we did! Victoria enjoyed a wonderful chocolatey cake and I ate a savory cheesecake paired with a sweet port. Soooooo good! Once our bellies were full, we hopped back in the car and headed back to her house to watch Gaaaaaaalaaaaavaaaaaant! It is hard not to say it without singing it. I have never laughed so hard at a comedy as I did watching the first few episodes of Galavant. If you haven't started seeing this yet, start watching.

The next morning, I slept in before skipping off to an hour massage. After a stressful week, there is no better way to relax than with a deep tissue massage. I found a Jamba Juice on my way home and treated myself to their new ginger kale drink. It was really refreshing, but I've been consistently impressed with their new veggie line. The rest of the day, I was able to get some much needed errands done, including purchasing a new pair of jeans after losing yet another pair to the ships. At the end of the day my mom and I went on a lovely sunset walk around Mission Bay. It was beautiful. One of my favorite things to do is to inhale the sunset on the coast. There is something primordial, earthly, empowering and clarifying about the crisp, color filled hour of twilight.

It was a wonderful, peaceful day and the evening I spent working on my books and sipping tea.

The next day, I had a fun surprise planned for my mom. 

We spent an easy morning enjoying breakfast before heading out, eastward bound to a lovely mountain town known as Julian. Julian is a historic mining town in San Diego county,  but it is perhaps best known for its pies. Yep, pies. The charming town is surrounded by apple orchards and honest to goodness, the pies that come out of that town are divine! And while of course an object of this adventure was to get a pie or two, my mom and I went to Julian to enjoy a wine tasting at Orfila. (We brought home a traditional apple pie and a boysenberry apple crumble pie...soooo good.)

For my Southern California readers, you may think it odd for us to go to Julian for a winery that is in Escondido, but, indeed they have a brand new tasting room in the mountain town, and it was the cuteset and best wine tasting experience I have yet enjoyed. 

We sat at a little table and before we got our first 2 ounce round, I set up our little spread. As I would soon tell many people who were so impressed by our table, "This isn't my first time at a wine tasting." I'm sure that paints me in a flattering light, but one thing you do when you wine taste is to try to find a wine that pairs with your favorite foods, so why not bring them with you? Crackers, Brie, hummus, salted meat, and a box of See's chocolates were the spread that I set out. I'm sure you can understand why we received attention. Hopefully we served as inspiration for future wine tasters, although bringing one's own snacks is hardly innovative.

The wine we sampled was absolutely wonderful and we brought back three bottles to continue our appreciation of the wine later. 

The drive home was a long, lovely ride. The sunsets in Southern California during this time of year have something extra about them. Something beyond this world. 

We made it home safe and sound. We opened up our bottle of Grenache and after dinner heated up and gobbled down boysenberry pie.

It was a lovely holiday.

If there is to be any morale from this tale of my holiday, don't wait for planning and schedules. Maybe set a few goals, but don't marry yourself to limits or boundaries of time. We're constricted enough by the clock. Take a deep breath, take a leap, get out, and go.

Until next week dear readers, and expect big things to come from me in this new year...

Your humble author,

S. Faxon 

"A Christmas Carol"

I have recently become obsessed with "A Christmas Carol."

Last week, after a long day of work, I curled up in my chair and turned on Jim Hensen's "A Muppet Christmas Carol." I've since seen it and the 1935 version of the famous Charles Dickens about 4 times.  I'm listening to the soundtrack of the Muppet version as I blog. This is not some nutter obsession. I've always been an enormous fan of Dickens and I haven't read his works or seen renditions of his stories in a while. I was delightfully reminded of how great a story teller he was - I love how he conveyed that one's soul may be redeemed if only they turn their hearts from being filled with hate, to being filled with love. 

There could not have been a better pair than that between "A Christmas Carole" and the Muppets. Alright, if you haven't seen the movie, it is honest to goodness worth the 1.5 hours of your life, for you and your kiddos. 

The "Muppet Christmas Carole" Cast 

My favorite song and scene is "Thankful Heart" sang by Sir Michael Caine. Yep, Sir Michael Caine. He plays Scrooge and he does so brilliantly. 

Mr. Scrooge and Bob Crachet, as played by Kermit the Frog.

This movie is sooooooo sweet. Not convinced? Read through the below song and see if you're enticed:

"Thankful Heart"

"With a thankful heart, with an endless joy, 

With a growing family every girl and boy will be nephew and niece to me.

Will bring love hope and peace to me,

Yes and every night will end, and every day will start, 

With a grateful prayer and a thankful heart.

"With an open smile and with open doors, I will bid you welcome what is mine is yours,

With a glass raised to toast your health.

And a promise to share the wealth,

I will sail a friendly course, file a friendly chart,

On a sea of love and a thankful heart.

"Life is like a journey, who knows when it ends, 

Yes, and if you need to know the measure of a man, you simply count his friends.

"Stop and look arround you,

The glory that you see,

Is born again each day, 

Don't let it slip away, how precious life can be.

"With a thankful heart that is wide awake, I do make this promise, every breath I take will be used now to sing your praise.

And to beg you to share my days.

With a loving guarantee that even if we part, 

I will hold you close in a thankful heart

I will hold you close in a thankful heart."

God bless the Muppets! (And Charles Dickens and Sir Michael Caine!)

I've been in such a great mood since I first watched the Muppets - I have a bit of a stressful job and I have to deal with an hour of traffic on my commute home, but the spirit of this song and the other beautiful messages from a "Christmas Carole" have kept a grateful smile on my face. 

So go on, enjoy your recommended viewing from the Weekly Read. See if this doesn't absolutely put you in the Christmas mood. Remember, Christmas is not about the gifts, it's about the giving. 

I may not check in next week, so if I don't see you until after Christmas, may you and your loved ones, have a warm, wonderful, merry, happy, loving, Christmas! For those of you who are celebrating Hanukah, I wish you many evenings of happiness with the holiday! For those of you who celebrate Kwanza, many happy cheers to you as well! And for those of you who don't celebrate anything this time of year, may the warmth, and welcoming of the season fill your hearts with joy!

See you soon, dear readers! And thank you as always for tuning in!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

Thanksgiving

*Heaved sigh of relief* Ahh, I don't know about you all, but I'm feeling relaxed and recharged after a beautiful, restful post-Thanksgiving weekend. So many of us get caught up in the Black Friday-Don't Burn the Bird weekend, that the reason for why we have Thanksgiving becomes muddled in the dust of shoppers running for discounts. As you can likely tell, I'm not an enormous fan of Black Friday, although admittedly I did go to Verizon to get a new phone (not because of the sales, but because after 2 years with my handy-dandy Motorola, it was time to upgrade), which resulted with me leaving with a new phone and 2 tablets...so take my commentary as you may.

Anyway, back to the thanks giving aspect of Thanksgiving weekend. As I was preparing the kitchen for the family to arrive on Thursday, I had the Macy's Day parade on in the background and it was positively delightful, until, the official parade began. Honestly, please don't think I have anything against the parade, but something struck me that I had never noticed before and which was the inspiration for this post; when the announcer said, "And here are the reminders of why we have this holiday, the very first two people to celebrate Thanksgiving, the Pilgrims!" Thus followed two large headed pilgrim balloons. Indeed, I do understand that this is a parade and historical accuracy is a minor detail, but lest history slips any farther, let us not forget the other half of the party without whom so lovely a premier feast likely would not have occurred, the Wampanoag. Yes, that is the name of the tribe of Native Americans who helped to keep the pilgrims slide that winter. I remember growing up not really being taught enough about Thanksgiving and in case you're now scratching your head like I was about what children of present day are being taught, I highly suggest checking out Plymoth's website for youngsters about the first Thanksgiving. In my humble opinion, I think they've done a really nice job at making a historical event that is an integral part of our American culture interactive and informative.

For you bigger kids out there like me, here's a website that I'd also recommend, and the History Channel has a nice "did you know" type of video on their website, mostly about the tradition of Thanksgiving itself.

So there's a couple of entertaining reads and things to see for the week. I'm going g to enjoy my rainy day off by sipping coco and getting my pen to the page.

Until next week.
I hope you all had beautiful, wonderful Thanksgivings!
Your humble author,
S. Faxon

Fall

Good evening!

The autumn season is in bloom here in San Diego. It is 42' outside, 50' inside my house where we have yet to turn on the heat because this is Southern California and we are in denial that it gets cold at night. I have my steaming cup of tea, fuzzy socks, scarf and throw blanket as my "warming team" until such a time when our single wall heater comes to life.

Last night I attended the reunion dinner for the Pacifica Institute's Turkey adventure. It was a beautiful dinner and it was wonderful to see my travel companions. And wouldn't you know, the people of Nigde did it again! When we were in Nigde (pronounced 'nee-dah") we were treated like royalty and given surprise after surprise. Last night, we received the very same treatment. Four men from Nigde, including the host who allowed my friend and me to stay in his family's home, were there. After everyone ate, and after Rosemary walked us down memory lane with Walt's photos as her guide, the people of Nigde gave us one more gift. 

We each received these beautiful quotes with the Turkish tulip in the background. My frame is currently on my dresser, but it will soon take a place in my office at work.

By the way, I would like to extend my apologies for not writing in recent weeks, my dear readers. I've recently started a new job and my time at home has mostly been warmly dedicated to helping out my mom. You see, my mom is on crutches right now. She recently had surgery to repair her ACL and the Meniscus in her right knee. This is not the first major surgery my mom has undergone, in fact it is one of a few. My mother is not "injury prone," and nor is she clumsy. My mom has a condition called Osteogenisis Imperfecta, O.I. Haven't heard of it? You are not alone. Often times when my mom goes to new doctors or physicians, they haven't heard of it either. And so, as I'm sure you can imagine, it's been a frustrating road for my mom. It is a condition with many signs, but the symptoms are the troubling aspect - it is often referred to as the brittle bone disease.

Her healing this time around is going fairly smoothly, but the frustrations from the unknown have been troubling. So, my mom has done something about it. She's writing a blog and I invite and encourage you to read it. Her story is incredible and for some of you it may feel familiar. The link for my mom's blog is below, and it is entitled, "I am Not Breakable." Please check out my mom's blog, who's bones and tendants are easily damaged, but will not fall: 

http://iamnotbreakable.blogspot.com

See you soon dear readers.

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

Halloween Short

Here it is at last, the Halloween short from S. Faxon.

The Confession

Detective DiVida hated this time of year. Halloween was not a time of laughter, tricks, and treats. It was a hell-inspiring time of year when seemingly every wacko and loner struck out in demon-like or ridiculous ways. And here before midnight, this Halloween had already proved to be far more foul than anyone involved in this case could ever accept.

The gruesome scene left behind at 130 Richmond was one that would spell out nightmares for anyone who responded to this case. There were so many questions to be answered, questions that would likely never be seen through.

As he stood outside of the police station alone, taking in the last duffs of a bummed cigarette, the detective took a look up to the heavens above. The sky was black. Only a sliver of a moon glared back. On any other night, this would have been expected, but tonight, the sight of the darkness gave the detective an unexpected chill. Evil truly had touched all of them in this night.

This case would be unlike any other homicide before, although it had the makeup to be as regular as any other youth gone bad profile; a recent drastic move, a step-parent, isolation, and to top it off, the kid had a record. Possession and being involved in a knife fight on the street in his last city of residence. The kid had convinced a jury that the fight was in self-defense, but the ink on his sheet did not bode him favors tonight.

Both his parents were dead and his house lie half in rubble from a fire that most were already saying he started. How else could a sixteen year old escape from a level 3 blaze relatively untouched?

This was one of the countless questions that Detective DiVida intended to find out.

The door opened and the Detective entered the plain walled interrogation room, a scene he felt more comfortable in than at home. There were a number of things a veteran detective such as himself looked for the second he stepped into the room – first and foremost, was the detainee awake. It seemed backwards to new recruits and to those who had no experience in crime investigation, but for most, planning a murder is a sleep depriving ordeal, one that has a host of demons screaming in your head, so once the deed is done and if you’re in a quiet, safe place, the adrenaline drops you into dreams. Detective DiVida half expected this, but the kid was awake, wide awake. Though deep circles that suggested the boy had not slept in weeks, underlined his brown eyes, the kid could not have looked farther away from being dropped by adrenaline. Perhaps he was terrified that he had been caught so easily. Time would tell.

“Alright,” Detective DiVida sat down slowly at the desk, deciding to take a more firm, yet soft spoken approach with this kid who already seemed so tightly strung out on the edge. “They said you wanted to talk to me. Just take your time, there’s no rush.”

The boy's eyes never ceased their constant scanning of the room. But he did not appear to be looking for anything in particular. It was more like he was afraid of the shadows on the walls. The unsipped cup of Styrofoam between his hands that would not keep still rattled from his knee bouncing up and down unyielding beneath the table. The observers on the other side of the black window were taking bets as to what drugs the kid was on.

But after years of working VICE the detective had thought he’d seen it all until tonight. There was something so otherworldly about this case and it was all about to spill out before him.

“Okay,” the boy's shaky voice started. He pushed his ear length hair back and for a split second the detective could see some of the deep scratches that had been noted in the report the first responders made. From the file that the detective had reviewed before coming into the room, the detective knew that the boy’s skin was riddled with similar scratches that looked to have been done by fingernails. “I-I-I’ll tell you,” the boy's voice was frantic. “But there’s no way you’ll believe me. I just, I gotta tell someone.”

The detective calmly nodded his head. “I’m listening, Brandon.”

Sighing hard, the boy took several deep breaths before being able to muster up the words to tell his tale of horror.

“We moved into this stupid town from the city a few months ago. My step-dad got a new job out here, so my mom and I picked up our entire lives and moved. Aside from the fact that the town sucked, everything was fine at first. Until the day I got into a fight after school. That’s when everything all started.

“My mom and step-dad were pissed, to say the least. He started yelling at me and then my mom started yelling at him and in the midst of everything a family picture we had on the wall of the living room fell.” The boy hesitated, his shoulders drew up. The detective did not know, but this was exactly as everyone had reacted the moment the frame shattered upon the floor. “It stopped our fight and we just sorta blamed it on an earthquake that we didn’t notice– this is California, a faulty nail, or something like that. But, we could not have been more wrong.

“We’re not,” the boy stopped. His heart wondered if he should use past tense, but thinking of his parents as dead was too much for him yet. “We’re not a quote ‘religious’ family or nothing like that. We’d go to church on Christmas and Easter and that was pretty much it, but once things really started going in the house…that’s when we became believers. Clearly too late.” The boy snuffled hard, wiped his running nose with the sleeve of his loose fitting black sweatshirt.

“My parents started fighting all the time, like really bad. Screaming and yelling. They’d never been like that before. I know you probably think that I hated my step dad, but I didn’t, ok. He was alright. He always treated me and my mom right, you know? But once he started screaming at her, that was it. I knew it wasn’t right. You know? Like it wasn’t him.

“After the first few nights following the first few fights, that’s when things really started getting nuts. I’d wake up in the middle of the night. It was really weird. Like I felt like something was in there with me…staring at me. But there was nothing there.

“My mom said that there was one morning when she was getting ready for work that she was in the bathroom and when she was in the shower, there was someone in there with her. Creeping on her. She was terrified. She came out screaming. That was just a day or two before…” the boy could not finish his sentence, but he meant a day or two before Halloween. “That night, we all had another big fight, my parents and me. It was the worst. I honestly can’t remember what we fought about because of what else happened. We were in the living room and we started to hear doors slamming upstairs. Open and shut, open and shut.

“All the photos we had on the walls were shaking like there was an earthquake, but the ground, it wasn’t shaking. It was horrible. I’ve never been so scared in my life, but I was still so mad from the fight, you know? So I started screaming at the house. How I hated that place how it needed to burn.” The boy stopped because he could see the judgment in the eyes of the detective. “Look man, I know this sounds nuts, but I’m not making this up. Look what it did to me!” The boy popped up out of his chair and ripped up his shirt. All across the boy’s stomach, chest, sides and back were the terrible scratches that did not look as if caused by human fingers, but by claws. The detective was taken aback by this. He had seen the file that the EMTS, had provided in the file and they were not described half as terrible as these.

Before the detective could say or ask anything, the boy continued, “It all stopped after the scratches. Until tonight.” The boy sobbed heavily. “Everything went to hell tonight. My mom had brought home a Bible, as far back as I can remember we’d never had one before. As soon as she crossed into the front door…they knew.

“All the lights began to fade, then light up again, fade then light up. We heard what sounded like, I don’t know, a tapping? Coming from my room upstairs. So my mom, my step dad and I went up there to see what was going on. The lights wouldn’t turn on. It was pitch dark in there, but that same feeling that I’d had that something was in the room with me was back and I knew my folks could feel it to.

“Something began to speak to us, but it wasn’t right. It was somewhere between a growl and a whisper. I couldn’t hear it exactly, but I could understand it, like it was in my head. It was saying, ‘Get it out. Get it out.’ Over and over again. I knew exactly what it meant: the Bible. But that was the last thing I was about to do. I ran down stairs to where my mom had left it, leaving my folks upstairs. I grabbed it and the second I did, screams. My parents were screaming!” The tears streaming down the boy’s face were running into his mouth and down onto his heart as he spoke. “I bolted back, but half way up the stairs…there was fire. It was so hot. I couldn’t…there was nothing I could do. There was this horrible feeling like something was pulling me, pulling me in two directions. One toward the fire, one back down the stairs. It felt like I was being dragged downward, like my feet didn’t even touch the ground.

“Next thing I knew, I was out front. Watching my home, my life, my…my parents burn.” The boy looked up straight into the eyes of Detective DiVida. “I know you think I’m nuts and that you’re probably going to lock me away forever, but this is what happened. I swear to you. There was something evil in that house. And it destroyed us.”

The detective had been watching, listening to everything that the boy shared. He remained a moment more, trying to see if the boy was going to prove his madness and burst into, ‘Happy Halloween.’ But he didn’t.

“Thank you, Adam,” Detective DiVida said as he began to stand. “I’m going to um, get you some stuff to help you freshen up. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

Adam didn’t know what to think or to say. Freshening up seemed so pointless.  He nodded once. He knew that the men in white coats would soon come to take him away.

Detective DiVida removed himself from the room. He did not stop when questioned. He continued all the way back to the spot at which he had been smoking his cigarette. He wished he had bummed a second. Leaning his back against the door, the detective once more stared up in to the black sky. He thought back to the scene that he had walked in upon two hours ago: a Bible on the grass of the front lawn, the house, smouldering. Deep within the rubble and the ashes were found two collections of bones, but not complete bodies. On two separate locations in the exact positions, there lie a head and two femurs, crossed as if designed like skull and crossbones. The most unnerving aspect was that neither of the bones displayed any typical trait of having been through extreme heat and fire. It was as if the flesh had been stripped and placed at the scene of the crime.

Another wretched chill ripped through the Detective. He knew what fate awaited the boy. He knew what the juries and the CPS investigators would say. Holding on tight to the pocket Rosary his grandmother had given him when he was around about Adam’s age, he felt it as true as anything in his heart. He knew, that probably he alone with the boy, believed in the demons that haunted and tormented the former tenants of that house.

~*~*~

Happy Halloween!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

"The Red Queen"

I'm at an adorable coffee shop in Temeula called Ryan Bros. I'm enjoying their Earl Grey while writing this week's edition of z blog. I am so sorry for the delay, but I've been preparing a good one. Without further adieu, on to the dark tale of the Red queen...

The Red Queen

The queen stood stalwart, gazing out a window. The attendant that joined her in the otherwise empty dining hall watched her with fear and respect.

"Madam," his shaky, but diligent voice called, "they are here."

The queen barely tilted her head to her knowledge that she was listening. Her eyes never left the window. She inhaled deeply. Everything has been arranged. There was nothing now to be done then to see her last attempt through. "Let them come," her firm, quiet voice commanded.

The attendant that had served the middle aged queen for many years drew his back straight. The last act was bold, terribly so, but there was nothing left to do. Glancing at the table, he verified yet again that all of the nicestest dinnerware had been set. It looked as if the queen was expecting to entertain loved dignitaries, and not despised enemies. "Very well, your Majesty," the attendent bowed and left the queen alone in the hall. 

When the doors on the other side of the hall opened with the unmistakable sound of armored men entering, she remained still as a stone at the window.

"Ah, your worship," a cruel voice that the queen had long dread hearing called to her. "What would your people think to see this lavish spread when most of the men in their families are dead?"

The spread on the table was highly decorated. The queen requested the best be set up for these expected, but unwanted guest. The queen turned to face the war stained men that entered, turning away from the view of her city that lay partially in ruin. "I should think you to be glad to see the set, Lord Lastric,"using his title taste wretched on her tongue. "It is, after all, for you."

The intimidating figure complete with a sword dangling from his belt, strut slowly toward the head of the table opposite from where the queen stood. "Is this your last grab at civility? Now that your short reign is at an end, this certainly can't be a celebtration."

The queen inhaled deeply. She was careful not to greatly insult this poor excuse for a man. "Come, if civility will not appease you and your men, won't you at least allow your men to enjoy a meal?"

The men looked to their leader. The bellies were rumbling. With no rest, they had been leading the seige against this woman and her well-trained army for over a week. Obtaing this city had proven to be much more of a nightmare than planned. Sitting down and eating even if it was with their sworn enemy, was certainly tempting.

Lord Lastric was not immune to human desires, but he was hyper sensitive to human mischievousness. "This may be of no surprise to you, but being that our two sides have been at war for two years, you will understand if I do not trust you."

The queen scoffed. "Do you think I'm going to poison you?" She made a motion to one of the servants that had entered to bring in the food. Shaking her head the Queen leaned on the back of her chair. Looking straight into the eyes of her enemy she said, "Pour whatever is served into my glass. Serve whatever food you wish to me, so that I may prove that this is a meal of goodwill. A formal acknowledgment of my defeat."

The servers immediately entered bringing in and laying out numerous platters of steaming food. The men uneasily made their way around the table by the orders of their crawling bellies. Their leader was quiet. He knew his men were starved, but he knew the queen was cunning. "Very well," he said, unable to deny his men this comfort after the sacrifices they made for him. "But," he reached across the table to a teacup from the setting where one of his men was to sit. "You will drink from this, so in the event this proves to be lined with more than gold we will all be in the know." He walked the cup to the queen and exchanged it with her own. "Enjoy this, my lady," he growled. He stared at her neck as she calmly took her seat. He imagined running his blade across her pretty thin throat. It would be so easy. Too easy. He chuckled then began to return to where he would sit. "This truly will be your last look at your life as queen."

The queen poured herself a cup of tea as she would on any other day, but she decided not to add sugar or milk as was her country's customary way for taking their teas. It would be a strange break from tradition, but extraordinarily necessary. Clearing her throat, the queen said, "I'm sure your men are capable of serving themselves, so please, gentlmen, eat." Her tone was motherly, which was unexpected. It was as if she was talking to her sons, not her enemies.

The men eagerly reached for the serving utensils, but again their leader stopped them.  "Do not forget your manners, gentlemen. We are in the presence of a lady. She deserves first bite."

The queen smiled. She more than understood this hesitation; she anticipated it. The queen quietly served herself, then took a bite of the flank steak and the mashed potatoes. "So, Lord Lastric, what plans have you for me?" 

Lord Lastric watched her for a moment and after ensuring that she was tasting and swallowing all of the food, he answered, "No more than you would have done to me were our places in history switched."

The queen finished chewing her bite and whille holding her knife and fork in her hands, she mused, "I see, so you will have me destroyed so to make a final mark on your rampage. To show that this crusade you invented has only begun?"

The leader gave his men the long awaited signal to at last endulge in their much needed desire. The men attacked the food like wolves a fresh carcass. The queen watched the men eat without directly looking at them. Instead, she kept her eyes on Lord Lastric who had yet to take a sip or a bite. The queen pulled her tea cup to her lips and sipped as he said, "Here is my plan. Once the bellies of my men are full, they will escort you to the coldest, dampest cell in your prison and hurl you into its keep. We will spread word to your resistence and make them come to the event that we will have tomorrow." As he spoke, he stirred the milk and sugar into his tea. The scene seemed so eerily peaceful. The man's actions were unnervingly unfitting to his words and reputation as a violent, ruthless soldier. Lord Lastric raised his tea cup to the queen. With a smile as cruel as Satan, he said, "And once we present to them your head upon a pike, then they will have a real reason to call you the Red Queen." The leader drew the tea to his mouth and what started as a sip became several mouth fulls. He had not realized the extent of his thirst. As the warm tea, sugar and milk hit his empty belly, he deemed it safe to eat, afterall, the queen was still eating. 

The queen nursed a small bite of potatoes in her mouth as she waited for the right length of time to pass. The men had already cleared their plates and were diving in for seconds, thirds. 

The queen cleared her throat, her stomach was already burning. "Well, you've taken everything else from me, my husband, my sons, my kingdom, why not my life?" 

Lord Lastric ripped into a chicken leg, seasoned so well that his men doubted if they weren't eating plates in heaven. "Maybe I shouldn't have you killed." Lord Lastric said with a mouth full of tea and chicken. He was eating so much and so fast, he was not surprised by the slight burning in his stomach. "I imagine it'd be terribly difficult to live with those demons, knowing, as you do, that this all could have been avoided if only you and your husband had abdicated when I asked."

The queen continued to slowly eat her mashed potatoes as she listened to the increasing amount of throat clearing sounds coming from the men. "I assure you, Lord Lastric, that neither of those options are what I would do to you."

The men continued to eat regardless the growing swelling and burning in their stomachs. They all assumed the same as their leader, that their long empty bellies were angered by the sudden presence of rich, highly seasoned food. 

They could not have been more wrong.

One of the men who sat at the right of the queen began to cough violently, as if he was choking. 

A few of the men slowed their eating to see if their comrade was alright. The queen placed a motherly hand on his shoulder and said, "Drink some tea to clear your throat, lad."

The man did as told and took down as much tea as he could, though nothing was stuck in his throat. He was having a difficult time swallowing and it felt as if his esophagus and stomach were being lit on fire.

A few of the men resumed their eating as their comrade appeared to be recovering, but it wasn't a minute more before another and another man began the same coughing spell. 

Lord Lastric stopped eating. His own esophagus was begining to burn wretchedly. "What's going on here?"

No sooner had he said it, the entire table of his men were either coughing or clutching on to their stomachs. For some it felt as if their intestines and stomachs were being violently stabbed from the inside out, for others it felt as if they had swallowed red-hot coals. 

 

One man stood and vomited right on the table, spilling sick everywhere. 

The men were consumed with their sudden onsets of cramping. Two fell out of their chairs in convulsions.

Lord Lastric stood, dumbstruck by what he was witnessing and feeling. His own stomach was cramping so horribly that he was forced to bend forward and lean heavily on the table. His men were falling out of their chairs one by one, crippled and convulsing from the same gruesome pains. Everyone was clearly affected, except the queen. 

She sat stoic, though she was not completely immune. The trace amounts of aresenic that she had consumed were enough to make her stomach hurt and to leave a metallic taste in her mouth, but not nearly enough to render her doomed.

"What have you done?" Lord Lastric growled to her as he fought every urge to vomit.

The queen stood and answered calmly, "I lined every cup of tea with arsen, as well as the meat, essentially everything, sir, that is on the table, except the tea. But none so much as the sugar and milk."

The general's knees crumpled and he fell hard to the floor. Most of his men were barely moving, having consumed enough poison to ensure their deaths in minutes. 

Though she knew that hardly any were listening, the queen walked around the table so that she could see her old foe. "You see, I knew that my chances of surving this afternoon were slim to none, so if I was to die, I would have preferred to go out with dignity and in the style of my choosing. But then I realized, why stop with myself, when I could take down the whole theatre?" She stood directly beside Lord Lastric who could no longer speak from the pains consuming his body. His expression said enough; he could not believe how quickly the tables had turned against him. Grabbing the lord's unfinished cup of tea, the queen looked straight down at this demon of a man. "And that, sir, that is why they call me the red queen." From her towering position, she poured the entirety of the cup onto his face.

And then there was silence. The movement around her had ceased. 

Sighing, the queen used a cloth napkin to wipe her hands and then she returned to her original position by the window, to look out once at her sick kingdom.

Hearing the silence, the kichen staff entered the room. They were surprised at the gruesome scene upon which they entered, but not by the death of the men. The kitchen staff was, afterall, those who were most loyal to the queen desguised for the afternoon to wait however lightly on their enemies. They would do anything for this woman who was willing to die to perserve the sanctity of her people and the kingdom that she loved.

With her eyes still locked on the horizon, the queen said to her loyal group, "It looks dark now, but the seed has been saved." Turning to face her circle, she smiled and concluded, "We may hope again."

~End~

Well folks, I hope you enjoyed the dark story of the Red Queen!

I'm enjoying my day in Temecula and hope that whatever you all are up to, that you're enjoying yourselves too!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

My view from my favorite winery in Temecula, Miramonte.