Monday, December 23, 2013

"Gold Rings"


This is the mantel in our dining room that displays
over 50 Crystal Snowflakes from my collection.




Greetings One and All - I hope this post finds everyone Happy and Healthy this Holiday Season.
 
I'm sorry that I have not been available for my story writing, as some of you know I have an online store that keeps me very busy this time of year - and I love it. I have also been working on one story that has become very sentimental to me that needed the time to develop  vs. writing many stories for the entire month of November and December. It is a piece near and dear to my heart and is a true story.
 
I hope you join me for its debut on Christmas Eve 2013.  



"Gold Rings"
 
By: Stacey L. Bolin

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

"The Seabee" Written by: Stacey L. Bolin





“The Seabee”
Written By: Stacey L. Bolin

Veterans Day – Monday November 11, 2013

 

I lay motionless next to my sleeping husband, tears slowly traveling down my cheeks to pool onto my pillow, as the darkness of an evening sky slowly allowed the morning to creep through the window into our room. Outside the wind howled while it danced through the threat of rain and snow upon this solemn day that awaited all of us. In a few short hours another brother-in-arms would be placed into the earth as his soul goes home to be with our lord and savior. A day that we had all been warned about - feared - and prayed that the angels would make an exception and grant us a miracle that once again, this brother-in-arms, would be healed and be as he once was before stricken with ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease). I try to close my eyes and convince myself that I have only awoken into a dream that is not of any reality and that when I awake again, I would find myself home in our own bed and no illness has taken anyone from us.

 My husband rolls over and pulls me deep within the loving embrace of his arms. A temporary feeling of calm and contentment warms me while I rest my head on his chest listening intently to the sound of his heartbeat. I begin to think about a wife who no longer can do the same – again the tears fight to become present.  I tell myself, I must be strong, that tears must be kept aside, but the pain that my husband’s best friend – a mother’s son – a wife’s husband – a child’s father – a child’s grandfather, will no longer live in this present life and no longer be a phone call away. It gnaws away at my strength exposing my soul to the unanswered questions of what lie on the other side of life. To know that he will always be alive in our memories, pictures and stories provide me no comfort at that moment – I’m angry! – He’s too young! – He fought a war and came home to later have to fight a new war, twenty-two years later, against his health! I just don’t understand! My face remains expressionless, while my eyes tell a different story and reveal that I am overwhelmed with my emotions – but my husband knows and understands my struggle with grief and holds me tighter as he lets out a sigh of sorrow.

 

Outside the bedroom door, the house is still, no movement, no sounds. I wonder if this family is thinking as I have, that it is all a dream and that to sleep is to awaken to the sounds of our brother-in-arms, walking through the front door from a morning of hunting and free from illness. I listen while secretly hoping for those sounds of this man’s life to be upon us once again, but the house remains silent and still inside while outside the wind wraps itself tightly around it. Eventually the family finds their inner ability to rise and prepare themselves for the drive into town for a morning funeral service.

We follow the family in our own vehicle to allow them their privacy. The ride feels longer than ever before as the weather in the area, as we drove to Yale, Michigan, has the same wet, windy and raw, appearance as hunting seasons where I grew up in New Hampshire. I find myself breaking the silence by stating this resemblance that I have noticed and feel it was a way that the heavens were telling us that our bother-in-arms, no longer suffered from the illness that disabled him here on earth. A brief, yet tender smile finds a place on my husband’s face.

Our arrival to the funeral home is met with a friendly and professional staff member who is both kind and focused while guiding us to our parking location while arranging the car line to prepare the funeral procession. My husband parks the car where instructed and then sits for a moment to collect his thoughts. Without any words - I reach out to touch him – I’m there for him. He is suffering a tremendous loss and I feel helpless when I finally muster up the ability, through the knot in my throat, and ask is there anything I can do for him. In a whisper filled with deep sorrow he replies, “You can bring my best friend back.”

From the area that we chose to sit, during the service, you could see our brother-in-arms at rest and dressed in his military dress blue uniform.  The minister speaks from quotes from the bible, but I can’t hear the words through the noise of a thousand questions all screaming for an answer in my mind. My husband sits next to me as we hold hands. For years we have had our own way to talk to each other through various grips, and this time would be no different as we helped one another deal with the loss of our dear friend and its effect on the family and friends that remain behind. Special moments were added to the service with music chosen by the wife and her family. How beautiful it was, and I couldn’t help but wonder how difficult it must have been on all of them to go through old pictures and then find the right music. They certainly had more strength than I. As the service concluded, the congregation stepped into the adjoining lobby as the attendants and the minister prepared for the final journey. As I stood in the lobby, trying to console my husband and a favorite uncle of the family, a player grand piano, began playing a melody I knew all too well and was a symbolic piece, and an emotional trigger, to a time when I myself struggled with a Cancer illness and feared what would become of my family if a cure was not found.

 I’m listening to this right now, to help with the next several paragraph that for some reason my mind wants to lock away and not deal with the pain. For me, I have found that writing is the only way I can share my true feelings –especially when it comes to a deep feeling of sorrow. So hold on and listen with me as you read. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcdcwnBUowc&list=PL752FB5D5DEBCB651

I saw years of great times, hardships, losses of friends and family, births of my boys, life in the military, California, Port Hueneme, and the first time I met my husband’s best friend and his wife Shelly - my whole world. I couldn’t hold back the emotion that was rushing in like a small town in the path of an unexpected flood. I looked up at my husband as my eyes welled with tears and told him, I needed closure, I needed to say what I needed to say, before his friend was lay to rest and I needed to do this on my own and alone.  Quickly I excused myself through the crowed room to the back and entered through a set of open doors to find myself standing beside the open casket.

Our friend was gone, and I felt so guilty that a cure had not been found for him. I put my hand on his and found the ability to just speak out loud through the cracking of my voice and from my heart. The funeral tenant granted me a moment with him and stepped aside to move the lovely arrangement of flowers to the side of the casket as the minister watched on.  I’d  like to think they knew I had not taken this moment during the viewing the day before, but desperately needed this time to help me understand what was happening and chose to deal with the situation instead of trying to block pain and hurt like I had taught myself to do for many years. I began to just let my feelings out and speak.

“Fred, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do? I don’t know how to help these people though this, but I’ll keep my continued promise to you if you keep your promise to me. I will do all that I can to help your family and watch over them, if you could just find the strength up there to watch over Ron and help him fight the war of a memory of war in his mind and the pain of losing you. He is such a wonderful person and no matter what happened over there in the Gulf, and I may never know, the fears that you both faced together, the worries of not knowing if you’d come home, what I'm trying to say Fred - he still needs a guardian angel and that angel has always been you.” I’d like to think that somewhere deep down I heard an heavenly angelic voice that replied, “Thank you and I will always be there.”

I then leaded over him, and as I had done during that July morning when I had last seen him, before my family and I headed back to Maryland, I found the strength to give him a good-bye kiss on his forehead and said, “I love you Seabee, you are so going to be missed, rest in peace.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes and then turned slowly to walk back to find my husband standing with several other veterans who were asked to be pallbearer’s. There was something about my husband, that captured my attention, and help me focus and finally see completely what it was and still is, that has me so deeply in love with him. I saw it, a moment in time that I had not seen for many years. A moment of the first time I feel in love with him mixed with a special ingredient. If you had ever been in the military you would know what the special ingredient is, as the other veterans wore the same – Military Bearing. You could feel the sense of honor, duty, pride, respect, and determination - that no matter what lay outside those doors of the building that day, no matter the weather, no matter what dangers may linger, they would see that this fallen brother-in-arms would reach his final destination.

Only the pallbearers were asked to accompany the funeral director back into the room the same way that I had chosen to enter, while the entry doors to the parlor still remained closed. I stood there, looking at the numerous faces of grief, by friends and family members that wore shrouds of bravery, to ward off the sorrows temporarily, as they anticipated the flag draped casket that would soon appear as the doors opened. They stood in silence as they watched as the Veterans escorted their brother-in-arms through the lobby. The Veterans made no eye contact as they slowly and carefully made their way to the gloss black hearse that awaited them outside. Never once loosing focus, their military bearing was at full attention to uphold the honor and the duty that had been bestowed upon each of them by the grieving family.

As I stood by the doors, I watched my husband’s face try to fight the pain he was feeling as they closed the doors to the hearse. I wanted so much to go over and put my arms around him and tell him that everything would be OK, like he had done for me for so many years, but this time it wasn’t OK - His best friend and war buddy would not be there when he needed him or just needed to hear his voice.  I knew that the only thing I could give him at this moment was time. There was nothing I could say or do as the hardest part was still ahead of him.

We walked back to our truck and waited for our time to pull into the funeral procession that would follow the hearse to the cemetery. As we drove, I saw something I have never in my life seen before. Vehicles one-by-one pulled off to the side of the road. There were no cars in a hurry to get anywhere. Nobody cut through the line. These people, who may or may not have even known who lay inside the flag draped casket, still honored him, as they sat on the side of the road in their cars with their heads down. I don’t know if they did this because it was Veterans Day, or if life there is just different and it didn’t matter what day it was. There was just a sense of utmost respect that I had not seen like that - in person – ever.

We arrived at the cemetery where the family had already taken their seats beside the grave site. My husband, without delay, immediately found his place at the head of the casket. I stood beneath a rainbow colored umbrella that clearly was out of place against the traditional brown and black ones used by others. I watched as the Veteran’s lifted the casket and carried it against the wind and the rain. None of it seemed real as I told myself to make a mental note of what I was witnessing. My husband, in spite of his daily back pain, with no jacket, no rain coat, no protect from the elements, wasn’t feeling anything but sorrow and the determination to be sure he would help be the one to see his best friend laid to rest – anything else – didn’t matter.

It was a full military funeral, and I wouldn’t have expected anything less. As the Active Duty military personally took their positions at the casket, the command was given to stand and those who were military or retired military could render a hand salute while the soft somber tone of taps being played accompanied the wind. Every one of us Veterans stood at attention and provided our best hand salute. I don’t remember when the orders for the 21 gun salute was given, but I do know that it is a haunting feeling that I had only felt one other time when my step father George had passed away in 1991. Something about that sound makes things seem so final, and that all that is left are the memories and mementos that are left behind.

To watch the strength of this now widowed wife, and longtime friend of ours, accept the perfectly folded flag seemed more like a movie that my brain kept waiting for the film director to yell, “Cut…that’s a wrap.” I didn’t want to leave; I didn’t believe that any of this was happening and I just wanted some kind of sign to tell me that although our dear friend has passed, that he no longer suffers from the horrors of ALS. I believe that those who have passed on have ways of connecting to us, we just have to be opened minded rather than brush things off with the thinking it is merely a coincidence - it's not, it is so much more. I got my sign as I had hoped for as I sat with my husband at a banquet hall at their local golf course. The family decided to put together a gathering for friends and family to come together to enjoy a warm meal and talk about the life and times of their lost loved one.

I have five loves, my husband, my two boys, family, and snowflakes. As my husband and I sat at a table drinking coffee and speaking with the minister, something outside the picture window had caught my eye – snow – the cold and dreary rain had turned to a soft billowy snow that danced effortlessly upon the wind and feel softly on the autumn leaves that had not found their way onto the earths floor.

My question had been answered. Rest in Peace – Fred, Rest in Peace.

Fred and My Husband Ron - Feb 2010
 

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Creepy Myths and Legends - Revealed


 

 

 

Below are five paragraphs that have been categorized as either a legend or a myth. Did you guess which one's were which? Did you know what was the truth or what was fiction?  You don't have to wait any longer. Oh and before I forget - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

 

 

 

#1. The Legend:
A young man is dropping off groceries at the house of an eccentric old lady when he notices an old photo that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. The photo's normal enough--a young boy in his Sunday best--but something just seems off. He asks the old lady who it is.

 "Oh," she replies, trying to stuff a cat in the dishwasher "isn't that beautiful? You can hardly tell he's dead."

 

The Truth:

While most folks today are too squeamish to take more than a glance into the casket during a funeral, in the late 19th through early 20th centuries someone dying meant it was time to break out the camera for a family photo. The practice was known as memorial photography.

And, while it all sounds like the set-up for some terrifying practical joke on the photographer, there was actually a somewhat reasonable explanation for the practice. The process used to take pictures back then was expensive enough that it was a once in a lifetime (er, or shortly after a lifetime) thing for most, and required people to sit perfectly still for a couple minutes for it to turn out properly. And if there's one thing dead people are good at its sitting still.

So, the bodies were dressed and propped up, with their eyes held open. And in case they still weren't giving off that lively "I'm not a corpse harnessed to a chair" vibe, some color was added to the faces in the photo. And just look what they could do with special effects in those days!

Some photographers also offered to add stink lines, but it never really caught on.

Eventually the practice of memorial photography went out of style, maybe because picture-taking became more affordable and didn't have to be reserved for special occasions such as death. Or, possibly everyone just sat up all at once and said, "Wait, what the fuck are we doing?"

 

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_16721_6-more-creepy-urban-legends-that-happen-to-be-true.html#ixzz2jJ0CGOKl

 

 

 #2. The Legend:
A sick woman arrives at a hospital and when the nurses withdraw blood it is so toxic that it begins making everyone around her sick too. Realizing they're dealing with the human embodiment of the creature from Alien, the nurses flee for their lives.

 

The Truth:

On the evening of February 19th, 1994, Gloria Ramirez was admitted to a California emergency room, suffering from an advanced form of cancer.

When a nurse drew Gloria's blood she detected a foul odor, so foul in fact that hospital staff started gagging and even collapsing around her. Eventually as many as 23 people were affected. The ER was evacuated and a decontamination unit brought in. So more like the creature from Alien crossed with a fart, but still.

The case was quickly written off as mass hysteria, but considering that the worst affected victim spent two weeks in intensive care suffering from hepatitis, pancreatitis and avascular necrosis (a condition which literally causes your bones to die) we'd say either this was some serious damned hysteria or the guy who decided that got his degree from Dumbass University.

As for Gloria, she died just 40 minutes after arriving at the hospital. Her autopsy was performed by men in full hazmat moon suits and, despite one of the most extensive forensic investigations in history, it's still not known what exactly turned this woman's blood into toxic sludge. Granted, the experts on the case have refused to take off their hazmat suits since that day, and have now retreated to a small island which they have surrounded with barbed wire, but those are probably just the usual precautions.

 Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_16721_6-more-creepy-urban-legends-that-happen-to-be-true.html#ixzz2jJ0f7gQf

 
#3. The Myth:
A prop at a carnival was discovered not to be made of the usual combination of papier mache and carni spit, but human skin and bone. All the little kiddies at the haunted house had been poking and giggling at a real, mummified dead body.

 

The Truth:

 Apparently the smell wasn’t just coming from the convict manning the corndog stand. Back in 1976, a camera crew filming an episode of The Six Million Dollar Man began to set up in the haunted house at the Nu-Pike Amusement Park in Long Beach, Calif.

As they were moving aside a "hanging man" prop, they accidentally knocked off its arm and discovered human bones inside. Bionic, this poor sap wasn’t.

The story gets stranger. The body was actually that of criminal mastermind Elmer McCurdy, who was killed in a shootout after robbing a train in 1911. The princely sum old Elmer got killed for? $46 (and two jugs of whiskey).

McCurdy was embalmed by the local undertaker, and apparently the guy was so darn pleased with his work that he propped up the corpse in the funeral home as evidence of his skills. People were charged 5 cents to see the corpse, which they paid by dropping a nickel in the cadaver’s mouth. Remember that little bit of history the next time somebody turns their nose up at you for liking Hostel 2.

Think it can’t get any stranger? Oh, you naïve fool. After several years of raking in the nickels (how exactly these coins were retrieved after being dropped into the corpse’s mouth is something probably best left to the imagination) our enterprising undertaker’s scheme was ruined when McCurdy's brothers showed up to claim him. Of course, these guys weren’t his brothers at all, but wily carnival promoters. From that point on, McCurdy’s mummy went on a morbid mystery tour all around America, popping up at carnivals all over the country before finally coming to rest in Long Beach.

 

 McCurdy is now buried in Oklahoma. Because McCurdy apparently had the most entertaining corpse in history, they prevented anyone else from taking him on tour by dumping concrete on top of the casket. No, really.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_15628_the-5-creepiest-urban-legends-that-happen-to-be-true.html#ixzz2jIySC7gM

 

 

#4. The Legend:

Every day, millions of us put our lives in the hands of skilled physicians, dentists and white van tattoo artists. Whether we're getting wisdom teeth removed or our boobs corrected so they're the same size, we're working under two assumptions: A) The doctor in charge knows what he's doing and B) There is no way a doctor could be a psychopath who just went through medical school so he'd have an excuse to mutilate people.

The Truth:

Glen Tucker was a terrible plastic surgeon. In fact, he was worse than that -- he was sadistically incompetent and left a trail of mangled patients behind him wherever he went. Like the man who came to see him with arm spasms and ended up having his arm amputated. Or the woman who went in for breast implants and somehow, against all odds and laws of physics, ended up with square breasts, covered in Frankenstein-like scars.

So Tucker's faults went far beyond just being a crappy doctor. Take the story of Jan Lehman, who had nothing more than a broken nose when she came to see Tucker. Midway through surgery, she WOKE UP to find the "doctor" wheeling her into a strangely dark and deserted operating room. She then passed out, but awoke again as Tucker brutally tore tubing from her nose, destroying her stitches. Later, after filing a complaint against Tucker, Lehman reported seeing him following her in his car. He wasn't just inept -- he was Cape Fear crazy.

The complaints and lawsuits mounted, and then one day Tucker tragically drowned in a boating accident. Except of course he didn't actually drown, and even if he did, it probably wouldn't have been that tragic. No, he just flew the coop to Florida, leaving numerous barely stitched together patients in his wake. Years later, a TV producer tracked Tucker to Florida, and the doctor gave this eerie statement: "If I get driven too far into a corner, if it got to the point where life was no longer worth living, then I would not want to go alone."

He didn't. Several years later, Tucker loaded his .45 and killed his wife, himself and, yes, even the cat.

 

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_20126_7-creepy-urban-legends-that-happen-to-be-true-part-6.html#ixzz2jIyyILxq

 

#5. The Legend:

Everyone knows the feeling. You're alone in your house when you get the unmistakable sense that you're being watched. It's like you can feel another human presence in the house with you, even though you know you locked the doors and windows. This spooky trick of the mind is probably why so many of our ghost stories are about someone being inside our house. There's the call that was coming from inside the house, the killer who hides under your bed, the guy who wakes up to find a note taped to his forehead or even the monsters living in our closet. But those fears are irrational, right?

The Truth:

A 57-year-old man living by himself in Japan began to notice small things amiss in his house -- objects wouldn't be where he'd left them. Food would disappear that he swore he didn't remember eating. He'd wake up to strange sounds in the middle of the night, but every time he'd go and check them out, the door would be locked, the windows tightly shut. Nobody was there.

Was he losing his mind? Being messed with by a shy poltergeist? To find out, he set up a series of spy cameras around his house. The next morning, he ran back the footage on the camera and that's when he saw it. A strange woman crawling out of a cupboard like it was the TV in The Ring. And if you think that's terrifying, imagine what happened inside his stomach when, at the end of the video, she crawled back into the cupboard. The one that was just a couple of feet away from where he was standing, watching the video.

Presumably in an effort to maintain bowel control, the man assumed the woman was a burglar who was only temporarily hiding in the cupboard, and had since left. He called the police, who pointed out that all the locks on his doors and windows were undisturbed. There was simply no evidence whatsoever that anybody had broken in -- in other words (cue dramatic strings) the woman had been in the house all along.

After a thorough search, the woman was found nervously huddled in a small cupboard. Apparently she had sneaked into the house and slept, ate and even took showers there for an entire year without being detected. Think of all the things you've done in your most private moments -- the things you thought nobody would ever see. Now imagine a homeless Japanese woman had been watching it all. Yeah. We'll let that one sink in for a moment.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_19503_7-creepy-urban-legends-that-happen-to-be-true-part-521.html#ixzz2jIzgNt71

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

You Asked for It - Creepy Legends and Myths:

Photo by: Stacey L. Bolin
Copyright 10/20/2103
 
 
8 days until Halloween
 
We'll here I am already into the middle of another week. First before we begin todays reader requested topic/s, I want to thank you all for the positive reviews on the last two stories that I posted. It's not easy to step out of ones comfort zone and take a chance on coming up with original short story ideas. Last year I relied more on the reader to share stories - which I will admit - made life so easy. Cut, paste, done. This year I wanted to test myself to see if I could meet the pressures and demands of having and meeting my deadlines. It's not easy, but I love the challenge.
 
Ok, so back to the readers request topic/s. Many of you loved the segments I did last year asking people to read small blurbs of legends and myths, and then you the reader had to decided if it was truth or fiction. Well that is what today is. Below are five paragraphs that have been categorized as either a legend or a myth. Do you know what is truth or what is fiction?  Good Luck! Come back tomorrow to find out how you scored. Until then Blog ya later.
 
 

The Legend:
A young man is dropping off groceries at the house of an eccentric old lady when he notices an old photo that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. The photo's normal enough--a young boy in his Sunday best--but something just seems off. He asks the old lady who it is.
"Oh," she replies, trying to stuff a cat in the dishwasher "isn't that beautiful? You can hardly tell he's dead."

 

The Legend:
A sick woman arrives at a hospital and when the nurses withdraw blood it is so toxic that it begins making everyone around her sick too. Realizing they're dealing with the human embodiment of the creature from Alien, the nurses flee for their lives.

 

The Myth:
A prop at a carnival was discovered not to be made of the usual combination of papier mache and carni spit, but human skin and bone. All the little kiddies at the haunted house had been poking and giggling at a real, mummified dead body.

 

The Legend:
Every day, millions of us put our lives in the hands of skilled physicians, dentists and white van tattoo artists. Whether we're getting wisdom teeth removed or our boobs corrected so they're the same size, we're working under two assumptions: A) The doctor in charge knows what he's doing and B) There is no way a doctor could be a psychopath who just went through medical school so he'd have an excuse to mutilate people.

 

The Legend:
Everyone knows the feeling. You're alone in your house when you get the unmistakable sense that you're being watched. It's like you can feel another human presence in the house with you, even though you know you locked the doors and windows. This spooky trick of the mind is probably why so many of our ghost stories are about someone being inside our house. There's the call that was coming from inside the house, the killer who hides under your bed, the guy who wakes up to find a note taped to his forehead or even the monsters living in our closet. But those fears are irrational, right?

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Hex of the VooDoo Witch - "The Gray Hair Curse" - Original story

~Hex of the Voodoo Witch~
"The Gray Hair Curse"
Original Story written by:
Stacey L. Bolin
copyright: October 21, 2013
 
 
 
 
 
Disclaimer:
Please note that the story below is for mature
readers as it contains explicit material of a sexual nature and references alcohol use.
 
 
A couple, married in their early twenties, stood before friends and family and confessed their love for one another until death did them part. She was a buxom beauty with long auburn hair, sheer beauty, flawless skin and a toned body; he was tall and tan with dark chestnut colored hair and was as handsome and as strong as any man could be. Over the years they built their lives together and did their best to follow the most traditional life plan and did just about everything their parents and their grandparents had done - Marry, purchase a home, get a car, and plan for having a family of their own. One by one over four years they acquired all of the necessary material items while at the same time - a handsome son and two beautiful girls had been created and brought into the world. It was a home filled with love and built on trust and respect.

When their children began arriving into their teen years and early twenties, this married couple found a new past time to their days spent together. Dinners out alone, long afternoon naps, and weekends filled with football and great food. They had many friends and acquaintances and often times their kids still found the time to gather together with mom and dad, and everyone and make a great time out of it. Yet along the way, as most couples do, their age began to greet them in the mirror each morning - a wrinkle here and wrinkle there and few pounds here and a few pounds there. For her, the gray came quickly, for him – his chestnut hair was still as rich in its color as the day they married.

Knowing that it was important to be together as they transitioned through each stage of marriage, the wife also realized the importance of having time away from one another. She had always suggested that her husband go out with the guys, do something with the guys and be just one of the guys. She enjoyed his company but she also enjoyed the house to herself which was sometimes hard to do, in their home, of 4.5 people instead of 5, since their oldest son spent more time with his girlfriend than at home,

It was mid-October when her husband finally decided to take his wife's advice after 20 years of marriage, and went out with the guys on a Saturday night to the local sports bar and grill located on the town dock that they lived in. He wore is best blue jeans and a nice shirt, yet with very limited girth, but he wore it just the same. He pulled on his boots and put on an old ball cap, kissed his wife good-bye and headed out the door. She was relieved that he finally decided to go and do something for himself, while at the same time she was already missing his company, but filled her small bout with loneliness with movies, popcorn and pop. During a commercial that was talking about families - she stopped to wonder what the men might be doing with their new found guy time - watching football - Drinking beer - Having their ego's stroked by female patrons? - Probably all of the above. With that she paid it never a thought again.

The owners of the bar and grill knew just want to do to create an atmosphere that would have you losing all sense of time.  There were dozens of 38" LCD thin screened televisions perfectly placed all around the rather dimly lit bar, so not to miss any golden sports moments. The moment they entered the building there was a feeling that was overwhelming, and enticing at the same time. The music in the room was a familiar tone that all the men remembered during their High School days in the 80’s. The song was “It’s a dead man’s party” and was being performed by a no name band called the – The Bone Keepers.  There where various Halloween decorations of bats hanging from the ceiling and black and orange garland that had been braided with purple lights, wrapped every pole and railing in the place. The sounds of the various bar glasses hitting together to be filled, with that perfect drink or two, was the trigger the men needed to get their night underway. The air was drenched in a stench of perfume, cologne, and alcohol and they marveled at the fact that there wasn't a kid or crying baby in the place. Being without family they bellied up to the bar and did their best to flirt with any waitress, or female species that would make eye contact. It was their guy’s night and there were no girlfriends or wives to snap at them for taking in an eye full of a nice pair of boobs. They laughed and cut up while eating all the appetizers they wanted and relished in the thought that they didn't have to share them with their wives and children, and to top it off – the frosty mugs of beer just kept on coming and they just kept on drinking without a care in the world. The biggest surprise was  the endless  special of Red Devil Tequila shots now and then, that were always on the house when the waitress brought them to their group. With each shot, the men lost their ability to think of home or anything but the enticing want to be wild and crazy. To them there was only one word to describe their night so far - Heaven.

As the men consumed the alcohol of bravery, the men who were single had no problems luring women to their section of the bar. The women would laugh and rub up against them trying to be the girl chosen to hang with them for the night, but the men who were married began to feel the effects of life known as old age. Suddenly what had been just a guy’s night began to feel like a single man’s night out in the military accompanied by some one's dad that was there to supervise the choices they made and/or be the designated driver.

As the night grew later and later, All but one of the married men found some strategic way to excuse themselves to return home, without looking like their wives had them wrapped around their finger. The only one who stayed was the one who had never gone out with the guys since his wedding day. He liked that the place helped him forget all of his responsibilities that he had forged over the years.

Occasionally women would smile and say hello to him as they passed by, while others would stop and engage in small talk that would fall into a twisted form of playful teen age banter that always became sexual.  His ego was fully charged when he caught the attention of a tall woman with curves that never ended and silky hair that harbored an illusion that it was heavenly rays of sunlight. He was smitten with her and welcomed the small talk and eye contact that cleverly turned into physical touches and suggestive questioning on what they enjoyed sexually. Deep down he knew what he was doing, but the excitement of it all placed him in a position that at any point could be a costly mistake. As they got closer the talk became whispering within each other ears, until a mysterious woman graced his attention that immediately brought the coddling to an abrupt halt. She wore a long gown of multiple exotic colors and a veiled black hat that topped her long curly red hair. Her long beautiful nails were painted a blood red that had the sheen of Patton leather. As she touched his face and slowly ran her fingernails down the back of his neck her deep green eyes, looked thought his eyes and down into the depths of his soul making his body feel paralyzed, while without any acknowledgement to the curvaceous woman - the mysterious lady waved her away like fly buzzing around a dead rodent that was more of a nuisance and needed to be squashed.

She spoke to him in a low sultry southern accent, her skin was tight and tan and her lips were full and sensual and wore the color of blood red wine. He felt a magical sensation with her near and never gave the other women a second thought. She asked why a married man would place himself in a situation filled with great sexual temptation, to which he replied, while wearing a look of confusion, “I love how it makes me feel young again.”

She continued to look deeply into his eyes that made him feel an urgency to share with her how he was struggling with the sensation that half of him wanted to enjoy the feeling of something new, something exciting, but wanted it to be nothing more than a great sexual experience with the woman without a name just a label of a wife for a night. However the trusting, faithful side of him knew that he had a true love that had been left behind in the home they made together and she was his wife for life.

She told him that she sensed great destruction if he chose the path of poison and that keeping such feelings and tempting interactions, concealed from his wife, would cause him and those around him great distress.

It was at that point he went from intrigued to irritate and he laughed at her as his eyes revealed the label of crazy that he had now placed upon her. He believed his wife had put this woman up to this.

She glared at him and without hesitation confronted him and his labeling and shared with him that if his wishes were to feel like a young man of 25 again and wanted to take comfort in the arms of another - she could grant his wishes and he could have it all for a price and his wife would never find out unless he told her the truth.

When asked what the price would be, still believing she was a drunken wacko preaching magical powers that were only there because of the alcohol that made her brain believe this. She slowly reached up to the top of his head and pulled one strand of his hair from his scalp. She placed the hair and its root into a silk scarf in her hand and sprinkled a sparkling powder over it as she spoke in a deep throaty chant. She then folded the scarf into what looked like a powder puff and then asked him again if his wishes really were to feel like a young man of 25 again and engage in an intense sexual affair that his wife would never find out about - unless he told her the truth.

 

He sat there waiting for some candid camera gotcha moment to suddenly spring out of nowhere with his wife leading the charge yelling – Surprise!

He turned to her and said in a smart ass voice, trying to call her bluff, “Sure why not, you only live once.” It wasn’t until after he said yes and many months later, did he learn the price he would pay for his choice to be wanted by women, and enjoy other women and his wife would never know or be hurt by his needs to feel young again.

Her eyes began to glow blinding neon green, blood bubbled in the palm of her hand where the sack of hair and powder were. She stood up and as she chanted in a mysterious language and padded the sack on his head until she had touched every piece of hair. He could feel the electric energy of his youthful ness that he once had in the years of his mid-twenties fill every ounce of his body. Without any hesitation, and never asking what the price would be, he went over to the curvaceous blond, whispered in her ear, and then they both left the building.  He left his friends at the bar and a belief that if she was a true witch with the powers to make a person’s desires come true, then he was going to try his new wish out on the curvaceous blond that had been ready to take their touching to another level. 

As they stood outside the bar, he told his new wife for a night that he needed to call home and check on his mother, that was staying with him on a vacation, and that she would needed to stay quiet so that his mother wouldn’t be upset that he chose to be with a lady friend instead of going home.  In his youthful mind he was certain that it was important that he tell his wife what he thought she’d want to hear, and he wasn’t about to let her learn any different. It was then he decided that his story would be that he was going to stay with one of the guys, because he had had too much to drink and didn’t want to take a chance on driving. It sounded truthful – she’d believe him.

The phone rang three times before his wife realized that the ringing was real, not in the dream she was having after falling asleep three hours earlier on the couch.

“Hello?”

“Hi Hon, your right . . . guys night out was just want I needed.” He found it hard to hide the tone in his voice that he was about to lie to his one true love.

“So I bet you all watched football and drank beer?” she said with excitement that she got to hear his voice that didn’t sound stressed or tired.

His lady friend pressed herself against him kissing his neck as she ran her hands up and down his body while he spoke on the phone. He did his best to Take long controlled breaths as he replied, “Yes, but as for the beer, I think I over did it so I’m going to stay here at one of the guys places.” His hair line across his temples began to itch.

“Hon, we only live a couple miles away . . . I can call you a cab or come and get you if you’d like.”

“No, that’s OK. I’m fine and we’re going to play some cards, maybe I could win some cash for a nice dinner out, just you and I.  How does that sound?” The itching began to feel hot and he wondered if maybe he was having an allergic reaction to the crazy voodoo wannabe’s flour head chant.

“Are you sure you’re OK? You didn’t get yourself in trouble? You are starting to sound funny.”

“Just having fun,” his voice squeaked out in a high pitch. “Gotta go, were leaving now. Love ya.”

In a sweet trusting and tired voice she replied, “I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

***

To his new found pleasure goddess music was a must when wanting good sex to be great sex. She hit the button on the room radio and was thrilled to think that it was one of her favorite groups – Depeche Mode, performing her favorite song to get down and dirty to, “Strange Love.” The hotel room was a mess. Clothes, underwear, shoes, pillows, sheets and blankets etc., were strewn everywhere as the curvaceous blonde took him over and over again in every square inch of the hotel room – including on their balcony where she wanted to introduce him to the intense sexual feeling that builds inside of a person when mixed with the notion of being caught having getting it on in public. He never once thought of his life as a father, a husband with a mortgage and his family or the wife that had always loved and trusted him for more than a decade. All he could feel was the sexual connect of their bodies becoming one and the ability to go on and on for hours and hours until their hot passionate love making would have them drop with sheer exhaustion to allow them to rest until the next waking round.  

The next morning when he had awaken, he sat up on the bed and looked around the room at the mess that he and his unknown partner had made. A note written on hotel stationary, on the pillow next to him read, “You little devil - thanks for a great night of great sex. If you're ever in the mood to screw around my numbers on the back of this note.”

He got himself up and quickly did his best to straighten the room. Took a shower to wash the smell of the other woman off him, got dressed and out the door he went. As he sat in the car, he toyed with the idea of whether to call his wife or just show up. He decided that a stop at the market for a dozen roses and a bear claw would surprise her – he was right.

She was so happy to see him when he walked into the house and even more excited when she had seen the gifts he had with him. As he turned around to sit down and take off his boots, his wife noticed something on temple of his head.

“Hon? What’s the grayish spot?” she said as she leaned in closer to get a better look. “Well, well, you’ve got few gray hairs on that head of yours, but don’t worry sweetness; I’ve got a whole head full, but that’s why I made friends with a hair dresser that can take that gray away and keep me looking good for you. It’s just part of the deal in life when we start to get old and slow down.”

“What deal?” he said shocked, while wondering what would make her think that it was all part of a deal.

“Maybe next time you and your lady of the night will go to bed earlier.” She remarked with a witty sound of humor in her voice. “Lying causes stress and will also make your hair gray.” Then she laughed and went into the kitchen to heat up the bear claw and get another cup of coffee.

He sat in the chair, battling the good and bad of whether to confess to his wife about what he had done the night before or too just pretend it never happened.

As days grew into weeks, he found himself doing all he could to cover up what had happened in the bar and grill that night. The problem he had was controlling the occasional itch that he would get with each time he spoke about that night, but as bad as it would get, he’d change his shampoo’s and get frequent haircuts hoping it would stop. A first he found it easy to say and do all he could to keep the truth from being told. He did his best to keep his wife happy both in and out of the bedroom, yet his youthful feeling desires were become more than his wife wanted and many a nights he would go to bed frustrated for the need for sexual pleasure. His friends, that had also seen him leave that night swore to never tell his wife that he had spent the night with another woman.

He had kept the unknown woman’s note at work and decided that it was time to give her a call. They agreed that one Friday he would get out of work early and they would meet at the Holiday Inn Express that was just on the other side of town. When the day had finally come for their sexual encounter again, he noticed something he had not before. She didn’t appear to be as firm and curvaceous as he had remembered. And her hair appeared dull and dry. Her Maybe she was sick or coming down with something. Her explanation was that she was getting older and noticed over the past month she was going gray, so she decided it was time to color her hair if she wanted to stay blonde. She still had the want to have sex with him, but was content with just keeping the moment simple and slow, no crazy positions, and doing it once was great - twice without a break was pushing it. He just couldn’t understand what had happened to his wild woman of the night. He decided then, it would be the last time they would get together, but for some reason he just couldn’t get himself to throw her number away, as for him it was like a memento that reminded him of a time when

By late spring of the follow year, he had noticed that his wife was looking more youthful, had more energy, she had the look that she had when they had first met. The most puzzling was she was not going out have her hair done anymore to cover up the gray, while his head was now almost 65% covered in gray hair and his bones began to feel arthritic and his energy level kept going down. He was only 47, but that youthful feeling that he enjoyed for those few short weeks, had gone from wild and wonderful to the extreme opposite that made him feel his was twice as old as he was.  

“Maybe if I went back to the Voodoo woman at the bar, she’d grant me another dose of young stud energy.” He though as he made his way home from work.

When he arrived home, he was shocked to find his wife learning a twerking move that their younger daughters were making fun of after watching the MTV awards. He couldn’t help but notice how youthful his wife looked and how soft and silky her hair appeared. He could feel himself falling in love all over again with her.

“Certainly she had had her hair done, you can’t go from gray to your natural hair color – it just isn’t possible.” he pondered.

“Hey Dad!” exclaimed their oldest daughter, “Did mom tell you that big brother is in town and he’s taking us to the bar and grill on the docks downtown for dinner tonight.”

He stood still for a moment remembering what had happened to him, and knew this could be his once chance to get a second dose of youth.

***

As they sat at a table just a few short feet from the bar, he noticed that the bartender was trying to get his attention.

“Excuse me for a moment everyone, I need to get some water.”

He walked up to the bar and did his best to scan the room without bring any attention upon him and trigger his family to questioning what his odd behavior was all about.

“Hey man, how are you doing? You never came back, did you and that hot blonde get to make it or what?” he said sounding more and more like a gossip greedy bartender.

“Ah, no, we didn’t.”

 “Wow, another lie. I think I saw another gray hair add itself to you head. I hear that she looks like shit and looks like she is 100 years old.  Did you do what the Voodoo Witch told you to do? Or did you choose option B. which was - you and anyone else would pay dearly for any lies about what happened?”

“No she never said what the payment was.”

“She tried to, but you had only one thing on the brain and one thing only. She told me after you left that she hoped when the first signs of the gray hair began to show, you would come back to learn what you could do to reverse it.”

“You mean this old man looking hair and face and the aching bones would have stayed the way she made me that night - sexually energized and young again?”

“Yeah, but you were thinking with the wrong head. I bet if I had only once guess, that women at the table with you with the beautiful skin and long silky red hair is your wife?”

“What about it?”

“If you had been honest with how you were feeling about aging, you wouldn’t be in your rapidly aging old man body your in now.” The bartender said with a laugh, “All you had to do was tell your wife the truth AND you could have been a stud whose wife would never find out about you getting it on with a new lady every night and with the energy you had when you left here – you could have accomplished it.”

“So if I just start telling the truth, then all will reverse?” He said hopeful.

“No. your honesty should have been from the very start. You would have told your wife that some Voodoo witch doctor cast a spell on your and that you would be forever young feeling and youthful with an endless sex drive. All you had to say was that. Then anything more your wife would have laughed away as a joking passive aggressive personality. But you lied from the start, so now everyone, including yourself, involved in the lies you told to hide the truth suffer the same fate as you and your once hot wife for a night.

“So what now?” he questioned, as the reality of the choices that he had made were the reasons behind his gray hair and body pain. “We would now become an old men and women faster than I would have if I had never met that mysterious witch woman that night?”

“You know man . . . I have to tell you one other thing.  Because of your all the big lies, little lies and occasional white lies you told your wife – she will forever reap the benefits of what you once had – youthfulness, great skin, healthy body and bones, and she knows the truth about who and what you have done, but does not react as she know you have given her a greater gift – the ability to be seen by others and as a loving beautiful wife that once had a truth worthy, honest husband that couldn’t handle the idea of getting older and made a deal with the devil to give up his family for the life of a youthful man of 25 with a great body at the age you are now - 47 right? What a screw up . . . this would have been for as long as you live.

“So how do you know so much about my life?” he said in a smart ass tone of voice.

“My wife and I own this bar.”

“Yeah and?”

“Didn’t you read the name on the door?”

“NO!”

“Devils Bar and Grill – My wife does the Voodoo and the devil takes the souls when the magic is over.”

“If she’s the Voodoo witch then who is the Devil? I don’t seem him.” He said in disbelief of what was being told to him.

“You know, I never introduced myself to you the last time you were here. Please accept my sincere apologies, the name is Lou. S. Cifer, owner and operator of this crazy join.”

“Wow your name sounds like Lucifer the fallen angel, when you say it fast.”

The bartender smiled his devilish grin.
_______________________________________________________________________
 
Music referenced in this story:
 Oingo Boingo - It's a dead man's party
 
Depeche Mode - Strange Love