CANDLELIT CHRONICLES: HISTORIC HAUNTS

June 11_993 wc Free Read 18+

Good news in a scary situation: sixteen-year-old solo sailor Abby Sutherland was discovered alive, and well, although with some boat problems, in the Indian Ocean. Abby is sailing on a circumnavigation of the globe since Jan. 13. I'm sorry, I just have difficulties featuring either the mindset that would encourage anyone to undertake this alone, let alone a minor, a female; and I cannot feature parents allowing this. Their publicized rationale is that they are born-again Christians, and that they believe the Lord to be in control of everything.  Her brother Zac completed the solo circumnavigation sail at age seventeen. Maybe I am just too cynical, or too imaginative, but I can think of way too many possibilities, none of them pleasant, many of them injurious, some of them fatal. I hope and pray Abby Sutherland succeeds.





http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-0611-abby-sunderland-20100611,0,5376286,...





Interesting comments on solar flares on the 13WMAZ.com Weather Blog:


http://13wmazweather.blogspot.com/





Two notes on this one:


NASA's prediction on a Solar Flare expected in 2013:


A century-class solar storm could result in 20 times more damage than the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina in the south-eastern US in August 2005. The storm killed 1,800 people and caused damages worth $81 billion.





Second: the blog writer basically says, not to worry; Earth is protected by its atmosphere. My comment: Atmosphere? If the current weather trends are NOT indicative of global warming and severe ozone layer depletion, then what do they mean? Ozone layer depletion means increasingly LESS protection via the Atmosphere for Earthlings, including wildlife, plant life, and humanity. Yes, I am worried.





Free Reading:

Chapter Twelve

         Another hard slap to the right side of his head while Monica's right hand simultaneously dropped away from his forehead, and the replay of Danny's day stopped abruptly. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't been expecting the suddenness of the sensation, and he had been deep into the emotion of the moment, watching Alice in his mind and as it really had occurred earlier in the afternoon, about one PM, at the Root Beer Stand. Everything emotion showed in his expression, and his mother saw it all. Monica wasn't brilliant, but she was cunning, a quality she attributed to her “catch” of “Mr. Joe” (conveniently forgetting that all she received from “hooking” that worthy was a stillborn child who grew to adulthood just like a living child; a house; and trust funds for their support. She did not receive marriage, a fine fancy house, nor servants. After all, she still had to do all the housekeeping herself, and they didn't even own a car. But still, in her mind, the fact that she and this boy of hers were set for life (or in his case, set for the duration of his death) signified a powerful act of cunning and cleverness on her part. In addition to her good looks and ability to dress with style when she wanted to, Monica was self-centered and vain (all qualities on which the Vice President of Personnel had counted of course).





         Popularly known as “Mr. Joe” even in the office, and to those employees on outside sites with whom he came into contact, the Vice President of Personnel was the second most powerful man in The Testament Logging Corporation, answerable only to the ectoplasmic Chief Executive Officer, Jepthah Starkes Kenneally, and of course to The Testament Core. He insisted that his inferiors call him “Mr. Joe.” They thought it was his way of being folksy; but rather it was self-protection. As a ceremonial magician, he knew full well the value of a Name, and he was not about to give away his-to anybody. So it was always “Mr. Joe.” To those outsiders, such as at an occasional Chamber of Commerce breakfast (though neither he nor CEO Kenneally were invited to the City businessmen's prayer breakfasts after the disasters of January and February 1932) He allowed himself to be called “Mr. Smith,” or “Mr. Joseph Smith” in introductions. He had adopted the pseudonym “Joseph Smith” because it secretly tickled him to take the name of the great Mormon prophet, who after all, himself didn't mind taking extraneous wives.





         Monica spewed venom at her Dead son, an eruption that must have been a long time in the formation, like a dormant volcano which deep inside is hard at work diligently creating fires and lava production, just waiting for its inevitable moment. So too had Monica Wilber become, her pasty complexion by turns peaked and fiery, her mouth open so wide her jaw must have felt stretched. She resembled at once a Great White Shark and a tiny shrew, pinched beak snapping shut on an unsuspecting vulnerable worm. Definitely not the facade she had presented to little Alice Cavendish in the Park restroom hours earlier (though Alice had found her scary enough), this Monica Wilber was someone even her Dead son had never seen. Nobody had witnessed this version. Maybe nobody else ever would.

“Disgusting! Filthy! Dead! Pig! Oooh! I hate you! Never could do nothin' right! He gives you a Concession Stand to make you a few dollars a week and you mess it up! Gives you the biggest job of your life today and WHAT DO YOU DO?


YOU MESS IT UP FOR ME!”

          By now, it would have been clear to any disinterested observer that Monica's tirade was no longer about her Dead son Danny, nor even about the “most important job” he had been given to do by “Mr. Joe.” It was not about her sudden discovery (or perhaps, not so sudden after all) that Danny had more than an inkling for Little Alice Cavendish. No, this tirade-this volcanic overflow-had now become All About Monica. And Monica was on the edge of making a very serious, and fatal, mistep; if she didn't moderate her tongue quickly, she was about to call out the very wrong name.