Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

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Daughter of Ishmael by Diane Stringam Tolley

Daughter of Ishmael

by Diane Stringam Tolley

Giveaway ends April 08, 2017.

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Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Catching Up

Each week, my good friend and fellow blogger, Delores issues a challenge to her neophytes. 'Use these words, my Hardy Wordsmiths!' And we do.
But I am playing catch-up. These are last week's: Crystallize, morbid, fragrance, cling, instant, blueprint.Oh, what fun I had . . .


I sniffed. “I smell it again!” I said.
Norma looked up from her newspaper and frowned, confused. “What?”
“That fragrance! That weird fragrance!”
She pursed her lips and sniffed, audibly. “I don’t smell anything.”
“Come over here. It seems to . . . cling to this exact spot!” I stepped to one side and indicated with both hands. “Right here!”
Sighing, Norma set down her paper and heaved her bulky self to her feet. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m only doing this because you’re my sister.”
“You’re a true friend,” I cooed, giving her just a bit more space.
Obligingly, she manoeuvred herself into the designated spot. “Okay. Here I am.”
“Now sniff!”
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Then frowned and did it again. “Huh,” she said.
“Right?” I watched her.
She stepped to one side and sniffed once more. Then stepped back and repeated the procedure. “Huh,” she said again. She looked around, then slowly dropped to her knees. “I only do this because I love you,” she said, glancing up at me.
“And I love you,” I said. “So what’s making that smell?”
She bent down and sniffed the carpet. “Huh. Nothing.” She sat back on her heels and stared thoughtfully upwards. Her eyes brightened. “Maybe it’s the spirit of some former resident,” she said.
I gave her my best ‘tell-me-another’ look. “Right. A former resident who haunts only this spot?”
“Well, maybe she died right here.”
“Don’t be morbid,” I said, moving a step away.
“No! I can see it! Her body laying here, crystallizing slowly.”
"Ugh!" I said. Then grinned and picked it up. “Her spirit hanging around till her mortal remains are discovered, then deciding in that instant that it must always stay . . .”
“Exactly!”
“Pfff! What will you think of next?!”
Norma made a couple of shuffling movements, then sighed and held up her hands. “Could you?” she asked.
I shook my head and reached out to help her to her feet.
Both of us sniffed the air again.
Suddenly, a whisper of sound. A . . . hissing. It burst inside my head. “Blueprint!” it said.
I spun around, then looked at my sister. “Did you . . .?” I said no more. The look on her face told me everything.

16 comments:

  1. :-)

    Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous.

    pfft. SISTERS.

    Pearl

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ha! I love it. Especially your clever use of the word "blueprint". :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Was really wondering how to fit that one in!

      Delete
  3. Ooooohh! VERY good, especially the ending! But I also liked the image of your sister shuffling a bit before reaching for a hand up - been there :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! Yeah. There was a bit of personal pain in that for me as well . . .

      Delete
  4. Oh, I am smiling n this ne I loved it. I hope you put your stories into a book someday. You always brighten my day with your thoughts and memories.
    Blessings!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, LeAnn! I'm always so happy when you can drop by!

      Delete
  5. Wow, so good! You left me wanting to read more. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, those are the words I like to hear! Thank you!

      Delete
  6. Replies
    1. Ahem....many clearings of the throat....broken gas line?????

      Delete
  7. *Blush* You say the kindest things...
    and: A-HA!

    ReplyDelete
  8. I've smelled many a weird fragrance with no source in my time.

    ReplyDelete

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