~ Sometimes, You Just Gotta Finish The Story ~
Monday Freewrite Prompt: Benevolent Dragon
The delivery truck groaned it's way up the steep, winding hill. The dual tires crunched loudly in the heavy gravel, then slipped and spun as Sid slammed the weary old beater's shifter back down into second gear. He wondered if the aging Studebaker would even make it to the top of the mountain.
Sid looked over at his younger brother, bouncing around on the passenger seat, always righting himself like those Bozo the Clown punching things you couldn't knock down. “You sure this is the right place? Looks a bit dicey to me. Check the address again.” Marty pulled the dog-eared clipboard out from under the worn bench seat, and glanced down at the day's work list. “Yup, written right here. Number one Castle Drive. There's even a note attached, says to make sure to stay to the right, over the old bridge, toward the top of the hill. Says it's the strongest part.”
Sid shook his head. This was definitely the oddest place they'd been sent to yet, and certainly the creepiest, since taking this gig for some extra cash. Sid pointed out the window with his left hand, until the madly jerking steering wheel reminded him he needed both hands for the crazy drive, “ever seen forest like THIS ?” The deep, dark rows of gnarly trees on either side of the road slowly marched past the truck windows, blotting out a good part of the mid-day sun as they drove on. His brother just shook his head. The truck continued struggling up the hill, finally topping out at the peak of the mountain in a clearing in the forest.
“Will you look at THAT !” The truck slid to a halt in the gravel drive, in front of an enormous, crumbly house that looked more like a storybook castle than something requiring a county address. Sid wiped his brow with his dungaree sleeve, then climbed down from the driver's seat. He shot a glance down the long, curved gravel drive, finally settling on an enormous pile of furniture and other household goods, stacked haphazardly by the old carriage garage beyond the house.
~ § ~
Marty jumped down from the running board, and caught up with his brother in front of the cab. “That stuff won't all fit in the truck, that's for sure. And why is it all grimy and black? Not sure the boss will even want it.” Sid shook his head again, as if he was well practiced in the habit. Then grabbed the clipboard from under the seat, and read the description on the sheet, “Says here, household furniture and 'other goods'. Doesn't mention nothing about damage.” It was Marty's turn to shrug, as he headed toward the enormous wooden front door on the stoop, noting the heavy metal loop of iron at the center of the door that served as a knocker. “Not sure I can even lift that thing !” But he never got the chance.
The door clunked, then slowly creaked open, the hinges obviously struggling to hold the thick oak door to the massive, stony walls. Soon, a tiny, hunched-over man dressed in an all-black robe of sorts shuffled slowly out and down the front walk, and stopped abruptly at the side of the truck. Glancing at the huge, red stenciled letters on the walls of the truck box, he blurted aloud toward the two men, in more of a statement than a question, “Salvation Army !”
Sid almost left his boots. “Yup, that's right. You called for a pickup? ”
The old man smiled, “oh, good. I'm Eugor, pleased to meet you.” He held out his bone-white, craggy hand, shaking a stiff greeting with each of them. Marty was quietly marveling at the odd little fellow, wondering if it was possible to still be alive after 150 years or so, though this seemed highly unlikely. Then again, I suppose…the pinched voice from under the black hood broke into his stream of thought, “thanks for driving up. Not many people make the trip out this way anymore. Not since the big forest fire of '27. First visitors since, oh, I don't know...”. He quietly trailed off, looking wistfully into the distance of the far horizon.
Neither of the men was sure what the heck he was talking about, and didn't get a chance to ask, as the stooped little man abruptly turned, and shuffled his way over toward the pile of household goods in front of the carriage house. Sid and Marty followed close behind, and upon further inspection, noted a slew of small burn holes in the back of the man's black tunic. Eugor suddenly spun on his heels, hand outstretched, “This is the stuff. Hope you can take it. We'd like to have someone make use of it.”
Sid and Marty wondered who the 'we' part involved.
~ § ~
The pile was enormous. Household and kitchen appliances, old wicker porch furniture, huge, block-y, very heavy wooden living room easy chairs and a couch, straight out of the 1970's. Looked a lot like the furnishings Sid and Marty's uncle Derwood had in his 'Man Den', years and years back. Only MUCH larger. The brothers looked at one another, cracking a faint smile of fond remembrance between them.
There was a LOT of other items in the pile too. Metal hand tools, yard implements, used lumber, lawn ornaments, even an old baby buggy. It was a whole household of treasures. But that wasn't the odd part. Sid and Marty had seen just about everything in the 'stuff saving' business. What really set it all apart, was the condition of each and every piece.
All of it looked like it had been in a fire. Not a BIG fire, just lightly singed. A black, greasy tinge covered the edges of everything. Accompanied by an odd, distinct odor of burnt fish and oily creosote. The brothers felt a cold shiver zip up and back down their respective spines. Marty piped up, “did you have a fire?”
The little man gave them a blank stare, then a moment of perk washed over him. He let out a quiet little puff of a laugh as he spoke, “oh, no, that's pretty normal for around here. Everything has that...um...look to it. No problem though, it'll wash off. Just a dab of baking soda and water, and some elbow grease. Be right as rain, I always say.”
Sid glanced in Marty's direction, then back at the tiny, hunched man in black. The look of downright puzzlement obvious on his face. Eugor noticed, then continued, “belongs to the owner, of the castle. He'd really like to get rid of this stuff. See it gets put to good use.”
Marty nodded in feigned understanding, still wondering about the blackened edges. Eugor flipped a piece of gravel from the edge of the driveway with is boot, then went on, “The owner, he's a bit, um, how would you put it? Different? A rather large...fellow. And a bit of a recluse. Stays to himself most times. Usually deep down in the basement. He's not overly popular with the neighbors. You know, after all those...incidents. At the turn of the last century?!”
“Oh”, was all Sid could eke out. Marty remembered reading about some of this in the County History section of the newspaper, years back. The details were a bit fuzzy. He just stood in the driveway with his mouth agape, like a bass fish up on a grassy bank, hoping someone would toss him back, before it was too late.
Eugor continued on, undaunted, “and the owner, he has a slight, um, how would you say it? Difficulty? Particularly after meals. Can't help it, I suppose. You know, those weird things you get, deep down, after eating too much...waa-aay too fast. Think some folks call them the hiccabelches. I just call it unfortunate. And darn hard on the furniture. And everything else.” Eugor waggled a finger through one of the burn holes on his tunic.
Neither Sid nor Marty had a clue what the little man was going on about, but went with it anyway, as the whole place was giving them a serious case of the heebie-jeebies. They just wanted to grab the stuff, and move on down the mountain, as fast as possible. Eugor broke into their silence once more, “can you take the whole pile? He'd LOVE to get rid of it. Would make him very happy. And it's always a good idea to keep the owner of the castle happy.”
~ § ~
Eugor didn't have to ask twice. Sid backed the truck into the pile, slightly crunching the baby buggy in the process, then the two men loaded up all that would fit in the back, tossing it in as fast as possible. Promising to return for more loads, after they got back to town. They started down the driveway, driving as fast as the old truck would take them. Sid noted Eugor in the rear view mirror, tipping his bony finger to his black hood, as they headed out of the drive and on into the dark woods.
The trip back down the curvy mountain road went a whole lot faster than the way up. I suppose a huge, heavy load of torched furniture and a serious dose of the willies will do that to a man. Or two, if you've got them both handy.
Neither spoke a word, as the old truck roared down the mountain, straining hard to stay on the road, and doing it's best to not blow a gasket while downshifted into first gear for mile after mile. I have NO idea if Sid and Marty ever returned to the castle, for the second or more loads, since I'm not privy to the delivery and pick-up records at the Salvation Army.
What I CAN say, is that they quit their jobs shortly thereafter, and headed on to other 'greener pastures'. Beyond the picking up of old, previously used, partially blackened furniture and other valuables, from scary castles in the woods.
I suppose we'll just have to assume the rest of the story is the stuff of entertaining history.
~ Finto ~
Five Minute Freewrite Post by @mariannewest
Post: Five Minute Freewrite ~ Monday Prompt: Benevolent Dragon
Author's Note:
This is not a true, Five Minute Freewrite. Or even a Standard, 28 minute- Five Minute Freewrite. So I made up a NEW category. (We seem to be expanding...). Sorry, couldn't help myself. There I was, laying in bed yesterday morning, pondering getting a start to the day, when I noted @mariannewest's Monday prompt for the 5-Minute Freewrite. And something upstairs just went 'bing', and next thing you know, this is what came out. I have NO idea exactly how long it took. All I can say is, it took. ( I punched the electro-timer off after about 5 cycles of telling me to stop. Goofy little time-clock sometimes gets in the way.)
So thank you for reading, and have a most wondrous day, if that seems like something you would like to do. -dds
Thanks for stopping in and viewing another Twenty Eight Minute, 5-Minute Freewrite, that morphed into an even LONGER thing, after the timer got tired, and went kablooee. (OK, I helped.) If you have any thoughts about fire breathing dragons, burnt home offerings (to Thrift), those odd things that emit from the gastro-tract when you eat your dinner a bit too fast, large crowds of angry neighbors with pitchforks and yard implements waking you in the middle of the night, or anything else this post reminds you of, please feel free to comment away in the spaces below. I'd love to hear from you.
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And go to @ddschteinn -- There's a whole lot more...
Posted: 06/27/2019 @ 10:20 ~ Post No. 318
Excerpts From Late-Night Conversations With A Mechanical Cat
Fact Number 153
