Thanos Pal on Unsplash

previously

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, was been on that long, long, wonderful train, but now she was keen to arrive back to New York; she’d been listening to the two guys talking about the executor of the will and how much money they might inherent; she was still grinning as she left the train, it seemed that their late uncle had a lovely long life.

She’d been mulling in her head as she’d begun to execute a plan and a plot, as she was sitting in a taxi as it made its way to downtown New York; she’d tipped the cab and then walked across and along to the small alley.

She was ready to greet all the Proprietors, as she walked down three steps to the door; she opened the SSC&B, hearing the tinkling bell; Mimi and Tom appeared through the double doors and both of them smiled although their hands were full.

‘There’s only us here at the moment,’ said Mimi, ‘the Bartender has gone on leave with her fancy car, and the Gatekeeper with his gorgeous dog have also gone somewhere; but the tall, thin man is around somewhere – and that new woman, Ms Storme, well, she’s a dark one.’

‘Look, on the table next to the bar,’ said Tom, pointing, ‘this is for you: it’s a small parcel, it arrived yesterday.’

The Raconteuse dumped her big bag, and then stared at it, and stared again; she looked to Tom and Mimi, ‘hmm, that doesn’t look good.’

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2H Media on Unsplash

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The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, had a spring in her step as she walked from the hotel to the museum that morning, she was delighted to find that helpful man from the train yesterday, now known as Joey, and he was working in a museum in Rocky Mount – how splendid!

Joey looked up from the counter, ‘excellent,’ he said, with his strong accent, ‘there’s a good place just here, I have already made a ticket on the stand, “Time Travelled Tomahawk”, that’s right, isn’t it?’ – ‘of course,’ said the red-headed woman as she took it out from her big bag, ‘shall I attest it’s real?’ – soon everything was in order, as they looked at it together.

She wandered around looking at exhibits but she was suddenly drawn to a particular item – a small jade camel in a glass box; she stared at it as she looked at every angle and then she turned to see Joey.

He had been standing in the shadows but then he walked next to her: ‘I found that… that jade camel, I was able to get it into the museum, and that way I got a job here, but otherwise I’d never have been there.’

‘Oh gosh, look at the time, I need to go, or I will miss my train, and I really need to get to New York by tomorrow.’

‘Well, nice to see you,’ said Joey, ‘might you come again, maybe on a plane or do you not like the altitude?’

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The Jade Camel – microfiction series

it seems that this might be back again… or not

Thanos Pal on Unsplash

previously

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, was back on the long train where there were many benefits – gorgeous scenery, comfortable seats and tables, the dining car and the sleeper car; lovely coffee and a bagel (although not as nice as one of Tom’s), but there was a rather attractive man who was sitting opposite by the aisle, time to use her artful wiles.

She turned to face him: ‘do you know where this place is,’ as she smiled, ‘you see there’s an interesting museum in Rocky Mount, and of course, that’s where we will leave the train, and I’m pretty sure that I can place this in there, as she took this out from her big bag.

The man almost dropped his coffee, ‘what in the world is it?’ – he stared at it, and then to her, as she grinned.

‘It’s a tomahawk and it’s very, very old,’ as she moved to sit next to him, ‘we mustn’t be careless with this thing – you see it isn’t just a tomahawk, it’s a time travelled tomahawk, it’s handy, very handy, don’t you think? – and it actually belongs to Jenne, but it has been hanging around for years, and I’m sure it would be better in a museum.

By the way, are you from Miami originally? – you don’t sound like that… in fact, I could place that accent anywhere – you are from Liverpool, aren’t you!

She got up, beaming happily, ‘you will help me to carry all my things later, won’t you?’

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[Source: Courvoisier]

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The four vampires, plus the red-head woman, had been looking outside from their various bedrooms as they craned up to see the chateau; then they rushed up all those stairs and over the roof, as the hot air balloon came closer and closer…

‘Drop us down, please,’ said the two gargoyles who were grinning at the captain, ‘we need to get out precisely… now,’ and they jumped – ‘that was alright, wasn’t it,’ as they each turned around to brush themselves down on the roof of the wonderful chateau – ‘how lovely to see you.’

‘Come on, let’s all go back down and meet in the salon,’ said the Old Vampire, ‘time for lunch.’

Later, Scatty and the two gargoyles declined to play inside, and instead they were back to the roof; Scatty would practise walking on the very high and narrow part, while the two gargoyles took out their phones, ‘look, that’s very good reception here.’

Meanwhile, Joan and Francis perused the library, opening long and old tomes, ‘these are so precious, aren’t they,’ said Francis, ‘look at this, its “The Concise Encyclopaedic Guide to Shakespeare” and of course we both know him, don’t we.’

‘You seemed a little bored,’ said the Old Vampire to the red-head woman, ‘but how about a film?’ as he opened a large screen – ‘this one cracks me every time: ‘Bond, James Bond’ – classic!’ – come sit down; Joan looked over – ‘not this again… oh but later we’ll all watch Casablanca – now that is a good one!

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[Source: Courvoisier]

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The red-head woman looked through her many postcards which she had bought from the Frida Kahlo museum last week; it had been that the Old Vampire had given her a wedge of cash so that she could use it for whatever she wanted.

‘If you have enough money you can go anywhere you want,’ said the Old Vampire, as he looked down from lounging on the very comfy chair on the exclusive plane – ‘good isn’t it, no need to have a passport either, which is just as well,’ as he winked.

Joan, Francis and Scatty came to join them as they had been chatting to the pilot in the cockpit – ‘not far now,’ said Francis, as he looked out of the plane as it started to descend, ‘back to France and civilization.’

They had expected to hear from the two gargoyles quite soon, but nothing, nothing at all; still the pilot had landed the plane in a very small airfield, and a luxury car had appeared, the red-head woman had wedged her big bag next to her as she looked out from the car, as it drove them to the great chateau.

‘Now this is luxury,’ said Joan, as they entered the reception, as a very tall man appeared: ‘I am Georges, and I will help you with any whim,’ as he bowed; – ‘how excellent,’ beamed Scatty, as they picked their rooms.

The red-head woman stepped out and sat on the wall; she looked up… a balloon? she thought.

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unsplash.com@roger_ce77

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Ten minutes later Scatty had landed her broomstick on the edge of the quayside, right next to the rather classy boat, as the two of them stood up and looked at each other and grinned; a moment later, the old one, appeared from the boat and took off his cap, ‘ship-ahoy,’ he said, ‘I’m the Captain!’ – and of course, the red-head woman was beaming now.

Scatty and the red-head woman quickly got into the big boat as the other two – Joan and Francis – were ready to cast off.

‘So what are we doing..?’ – ‘well, we already know about pumpkins, ghouls, ghosts and whatnot, but we thought it would be really good to try the Day of the Dead?’ – ‘oh hold on, grab the phone.’

‘Sail past Cuba and continue to sail to Cancun, and beyond – that’s Mexico, by the way,’ said the two gargoyles who were explaining on their smartphone from Paris, as they were shouting, as usual – ‘you see we’re part of the travel agency on the website now, and it is going rather well – okay that should be fine, we will send all the details with the WhatsApp thing… off and out,’ as they giggled.

‘So it’s going to be great and no one would have any idea that most of us are vampires – such fun, don’t you think?’ as the old vampire began to dance.

Not far now – we’ll take the broomsticks and fly to Mexico City – oh, of course, you should visit Frida Kahlo’s museum… definitely!

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Hemingway’s Royal typewriter in Key West, Florida

previously

The red-head woman (the fictional one) had pulled away from a spider web as she stood up inside the Hemingway House.

The Gatekeeper had been standing a little way away as he continued to smoke a rather nice Cuban cigar; he had been wondering whether he could get into deep water with this one as he hardly knew her – of course he knew the Raconteuse very well and they got on brilliantly, but that other one is very different, still why not – it could be fun.

The red-head woman had already opened the back door and leaned out to see him – ‘come on, let’s go up to the library’ – they looked inside, and there was Ernest Hemingway who was sitting at the typewriter, they looked at each other and back again; then the great man stood up and looked out, as he lit a cigarette and then walked straight through them –a ghost??

The Gatekeeper’s smartphone started ringing; it was the tall, thin man and he shouted at both of them: ‘get out quickly – it doesn’t matter why, just go’ – and then they heard several sirens coming closer as the house was lit up.

The two of them ran down and out, as the red-head woman said – ‘just go, I can deal with this’ – as the Gatekeeper decided to agree.

She began to shout: ‘I’m fine, just cross, actually livid… more than that I’m outraged – oh, doesn’t matter, look, Scatty‘s just appeared – I’ll hop behind her broomstick, and we will fly away (tallyho).

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Hemingway’s Royal typewriter in Key West, Florida

previously

Now this is the red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, who had been reading on the long train more than two weeks ago; but now she had written a lovely review about Elizabeth Gauffreau called: Simple Pleasures: Haiku from the Place Just Right, it had super photos with each poem – it was wonderful.

She had been looking over the Hemingway House, just round the corner where she was staying at the rather nice villa where there was a maid and a cleaner (how posh); she had lingered around the library, particularly the old typewriter and the chaise-longue – she would have loved to sit by the great man… but at least she had met several six-toed cats; meanwhile she carried a book: Hemingway’s Boat by Paul Hendrickson (she had almost finished it).

For lunch she had had a gorgeous waiter, who had been helpful as she ordered some delightful crayfish (almost as good as Mimi’s) and also a large slice of Key lime pie (she should mention that to the Bartender next time too).

Then she wandered down to the beach to sit and read her Kindle; she’d read it before, it’s called One Day I Was by Joe Leonardi.

The Raconteuse had fallen asleep but the red-head woman was ready to work.

It was night and Hemingway House was locked, but the Gatekeeper helped her to climb up and over the railings; she quickly broke a small panel of glass on one of the bottom windows and then she was through.

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