The hell you know and the hell you don’t

 

Blog ping-pong with Random Thoughts

 

“Let me get this straight, Adelaide. Your boyfriend is married, but not to you, you’re having a recurring nightmare at a recurring time, you’re writing in your sleep, and your iphone is haunted? All this in one week?”

Addie sighed. “Yeah, except it feels closer to 4 months than just a week.”

Sophia leaned back in her chair and chuckled softly, even as her concerned gaze swept over her daughter, taking in Addie’s pale face and haggard appearance.

“You never did do anything on a small scale,” she commented lightly. “Not even when you-“

“Tell me about Hell’s Home, Mom.” Addie interrupted brusquely. She knew she’d suffer a month of guilt trips for her rudeness, but Sophia’s reminiscing would have to wait.

“Remember that story you used to tell me? About how Hell’s Home is supposed to be the gate that opens the crossroads? The place of everywhere?”

Sophia’s smile faded and she shifted uneasily. “Honey, that’s just an old ghost story. It isn’t true, you know that.” Sophia got up and began to clear the last of the dishes from the table.

“So what are you going to do about your married boyfriend? What’s his name again?”

“Mom. Please.” Addie insisted quietly. “I need to know.”

Sophia’s shoulders slumped as she sat back down and stared down absently at her folded hands.

“It wasn’t ever a good place to be, not for any length of time, Hell’s Home. When the settlers first staked it, no natives came to fight them for it. They wouldn’t come near it. Claimed it was inhabited by spirits that had never walked as humans and the place for the dead. Of course that didn’t scare the settlers, they just laughed and went on with life.”

“But things kept happening. They said time was weird there. It would stretch out for the longest or it would pass in what felt like seconds. Fires would start as if by magic and would destroy everything in their path, crops failed, livestock died, children disappeared. The settlers were desperate. The story goes that an arrangement was made.”

An arrangement with who-I don’t know. I do know those big iron gates that stood at beginning of the path leading into the woods were part of that agreement. The same gates the contractor guy demolished a couple of months ago.”

“What happens if the gates are taken down?” Addie asked and shivered, despite the heat.

Sophia shrugged, not looking away from her hands.

“The story never said. Hell on earth maybe? I don’t know. Look, why don’t you stay with me and your Dad? I know he’d love to have you around and I’d love to introduce you to my neighbor’s son.”

Addie was up and kissing Sophia before she could stop her. “Thanks Mom, maybe later. I’ve got to run. Love you.”

Addie had one more stop to make before she could call it a day. When this was all said and done, she was taking a break. Going on vacation was usually so much work, but this year it was going to be different. She would make sure of it.

For now though, it was time to rattle Aaron Stimple’s cage. He had some splainin’ to do and he’d better be fast when he did.

Hell had even less patience than Addie and a lot meaner and scarier motivators.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Observations fresh from the water park

ADHD observations from the water park
Not nearly enough payback for the coaster kerfuffle

 

Duck, The Redneck, and I went to Holiday World as a end of summer daycation. It was their idea, I didn’t really want to go. I cited my reasons, (excuses) the heat index, blah blah, but the real reason was that I had myself a whoppin’ case of middle-aged bathing suit anxiety. Duck and The Redneck were unsympathetic. Of course.

So this is…

What I learned about my bathing suit fears at the water park

Guess what? Not one single person I saw there was a perfect 10. Of course it could be that it was the Victoria Secret models day off or something, or I wasn’t looking in the right direction at the right time for the shy and elusive tenners, who knows.

1. Everywhere I looked, body flaws were on flagrant display and Nobody. Cared.

No, seriously.

I saw several third nipples, always a wonderful if slightly dangerous, wish-we-all-were-so-lucky perennial conversation starter, tons of I-know-there-must-be-a-story-behind-this tattoos in interesting and unexpected locations, and plenty of successful (and unsuccessful) dislodging the suit buttcrack ballet maneuvers going on. Hell yeah.

2. To my amazed delight, I most certainly wasn’t the only one with eye wateringly bright white summer denied skin. Far from it.

3. Not a single one of my fears came true. Nowhere was anyone was having a surprise swim suit inspection, everyone came sunglasses prepared, so there were no acrimonious accusations of spontaneous blindness or threats of seeking the advice of an attorney and best of all, being a 10 to gain admittance was not a requirement.

No one’s looking at you when there are friends doing the less than graceful, drowned rat water slide dismount off The Mammoth to howl insults at, a wave pool to dunk your kids in, either for general purposes or perhaps in payback over the regrettable and hopefully soon to be forgotten roller coaster incident.

And having the convenient option of having giant Tiki buckets nearby that dump a gazillion gallons of water from high above, to stand them under, you know…if the wave pool isn’t enough closure is a plus. Not that I’m saying I did that or anything.

Yeah with all that going on, well, you’re just part of the crowd getting sunburnt to an extra-crispy cinder in the background. For a people watching introvert with bathing suit anxieties, that ain’t half bad.

bad sunburns suck
After liberal coating in waterproof Coppertone, I might have a whole new face in a few weeks

Letting go sucks so it must be love

 

Giving up on ideas is as easy as saying Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
“Supercali-“
“Hold on loosely, but don’t let go.”

I think most everybody born before the year 2000 knows of the song by 38 Special. Call me a rock traitor if you will, but I hate that song. Just not for why you might think. My hate stems from my inability to let go.

Successful application of the concept, my letting go, is as easy for me, as it would be for you to say…

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

 

Looks and letting go can be deceptive
Yeah, sure. Doesn’t look too scary…

 

In its complete entirety with your mouth stuffed full of Saltine crackers, while your body is rocketing down the Schlitterbahn water slide at speeds alternating between the mild, ‘Non-surgical face-lift’ and the more exhilerating, ‘high colonic via bathing suit’.

The odds of your being successful in verbalizing anything other than AAHH!!, much less all those troublesome syllables during your date with terror and gforces in a clearly vain attempt to recapture your youthful glory and and that of my letting go with any modicum of grace and dignity are…

I’m thinking are roughly about the same.

Continue reading

Hell’s Home: Better run like hell

 

2 blogs, 1 story

 
Lightning pierced the sky. The air was becoming heavier and the filtered sunlight that shone down through the tree canopy within the woods was almost gone.

A storm was coming. A big one from the looks of it and Roger wanted gone. Despite these things, Roger’s truck keys remained undaunted-and hidden from view.

He had no idea how long the woman had been standing in front of him before she tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and let out a very unmanly squeal.

Just a little one, she probably didn’t even hear it, but still.

Getting startled and jumping made for a bad impression when the paranormal was supposed to be your thing.

“Hey! Pay attention when you’re being spoken to. I know who and what you are,” the woman snarled up at him without preamble, her features twisting into a mask of contempt, her hands on her hips.

“And you aren’t welcome here.”

Oh now everything was perfect. Because dealing with a harpy, a storm at night in the woods, and looking for his keys was exactly what he needed this very moment.

“Yeah? You’re at the advantage then. Who are you?” Roger asked, resigned.

The woman peered at Roger in exasperated annoyance. “Why don’t you ask Addie?”

She nodded at his surprise.

“Mmhhmm, I thought you’d run into to her. Look, what you think you know? You don’t. Go home, we don’t need you getting in the way.”

She jangled Roger’s errant keys in his face for emphasis and he jumped. Again. What was wrong with him?

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Why are you so angry? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

The woman rolled her eyes, plunked the keys in the palm of his hand and turned away from him, letting the wind carry back her answer.

“We don’t want you here. None of us do. Keep your nose out of what doesn’t concern you. You’ll be much safer.”

Rog wondered uneasily if she weren’t right, as he (ran) made his way back to towards the house and the truck.

He managed to kick off his muddy boots before he hit the bed and slept soundly, only to awaken with the feeling of someone standing next to his bed. No one was.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only 5:15am but he felt like he was already hours behind schedule.

Hell’s Home was the holder of secrets and full to the brim with the angry, the restless and agitated, and the lost.

He had the strangest feeling that time was running out. For himself and for Addie and Aaron. Trick was, figuring it out before time was up.

 

Finding humor in an ADHD life without water wings

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