The only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits.

Yet, it is not ghosts haunting this quaint dusty village.

The true spook of Miners Hill is one Owen Grabbler. A very much alive rambling drunk rancher who wanders over the hill on his horse to talk to them.

“The spirits let me see spirits. Know what I mean?” Grabbler shouted to the ghosts he knew were avoiding him.

Owen stood outside city hall relieving himself into an old dried up fountain. He fumbled with his manhood and a bottle of whiskey with the same hand while his free arm maintained a questionable balance.

A group of frustrated spirits summoned all their energy to give the drunk Grabbler a little push. Maybe face down in the dirt covered in his own urine would teach him a lesson.

The horror they must have felt when a sharp rock hidden just below the soft dust at the bottom of the fountain made Owen Grabbler their newest permanent resident.


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

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May 27th, 2015

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scuba-chicken

The crew of the Angel Flame received orders to head out.

Travers concentrated on the sub’s controls making their final descent into a deep underwater cave. They would ride just above ‘hull crush’ depth.

“What do you think is down here skip?” she asked the captain.

Captain Onslow watched the circular green sonar screen. “Doesn’t matter. We light up all the cameras and get the hell out if we find anything.”

The small crew of three each manned their stations with trepidation. A small beep echoed in the cabin and all twitched except Onslow.

“What is it Ray-Ray?” Onslow asked the sonar man.

Ray didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on the screen and large. He furiously began banging his nose into his control panel. Clucking?

“Hit the flashes and turn around Travers,” Onslow screamed but it was too late.

She was already perched on her monitor -trousers down trying to lay an egg.

To be continued…


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

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May 22nd, 2015

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MAP

“Arriving at the beach, she reflected on her life.”

Lenora squinted at the white capped sea thinking of Alerion and the Château de Montagne.

She had taken this weekend at the coast for herself. Alerion was supportive as always but this time…

Thunk!

She tossed her shovel aside. Quickly kneeling down she began scooping at the rocky sand, fighting the tide trying to rush in. Little cuts began to sting along her skin but she didn’t care.

Sun rays danced in her eyes off wet black painted steel banded around an old wooden barrel.

The map was left behind by a limping bearded guest at the Château de Montagne who had left in such a haste the map fell under the bed as he packed. She thought it odd he always wore sun glasses, even inside.

To be fair she did try to contact him but he left no number.

Turning the small barrel in her hands the initials L.J.S. were almost completely weathered away.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

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May 13th, 2015

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jack

“After losing her head, she realized that the rest of her body was falling apart!”

Lenora nodded to herself at the excited Mom panicked over the phone.

“Okay give me your address and I’ll check the Sunshine room for the leg,” she said calmly diffusing the agitated Mother.

Lenora and Alerion never had children as she wasn’t able. The doctors said she had something wrong with her insides and she choose not to be haunted by the details.

So whenever they had young guests at the Château de Montagne it was always a treat and they were urged to stay in the Sunshine room specially made for children.

Lenora rummaged around the Sunshine room toy box searching for the little girls missing doll part. The tinkle and clink of a vintage Jack in Box high on a shelf began to play.

Jack popped out startling Lenora. He was holding the missing plastic leg smiling a bit bigger than she remembered.


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

mondays-finish-the-story

May 4th, 2015

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2015-04-27-bw-beacham

“Are you laughing at me?“

John grumbled blinking his eyes open from a nap. Mary held up the small mirror to her husband’s face trying to hide her sniggering. His eyes got wide.

His lips had been transformed into blood red and his cheeks a light shade of maroon. There were dark rings around his eyes like he had just gone the distance in one of his old MMA fights.

The muscle bound white t-shirt he was wearing began to expand as the thick sinew strands of his chest filled with blood in a rage. Someone had attacked him. An old rival maybe? Was the family okay?

Jumping up to a fighting stance he was met with the big blue eyes of his little girl. Her tiny hands were covered in red lipstick and blue makeup powder.

“See how pretty you are now Daddy?” she giggled. He melted.


mondays-finish-the-story

April 29th, 2015

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