stanza28™

"Congratulations 250 America" Playlist

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 14:00:07 +0000

Please enjoy "Congratulations 250 America" playlist:

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLfzEf47kFj74&si=eSApeI6WtWBDoAW7

🎂🇺🇸 🎇Happy 250th Birthday, America. 🎆🎂

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 20 Jun 2026 20:00:13 +0000

🎂🇺🇸 🎇Happy 250th birthday, America. 🎆🎂

Speaking of celebrating:

Congratulations faithful reader. We've made it, to well exceeding twenty years of this nonsense. The stanza28 Guest Book™, a guest register book, which includes a 250 🇺🇸 dedication, is now available here.¹

Also, celebrate with a recipe for Turkey Meatballs Rangoon.

Turkey Meatballs Rangoon

Prepare choice of pasta (I made this with angel hair. To make this keto-ish, replace pasta w/your favorite substitute).

Prepare the Rangoon sauce, modified from Crab Rangoon:

In wok, add oil, two packets ketchup, 2 tbs soy sauce, a little water, 1 tbs sweet chili sauce, and braise small turkey meatballs in this liquid (prepare turkey meatballs). Add water, turkey stock or a bit more soy sauce to deglaze the wok, and some butter.

When the meatballs seem just about done, add 1/3 of a slab of cream cheese, as well as cilantro, to taste. When the pasta is ready (reserve a bit of the pasta water) drain and add to wok; add a bit of the pasta water (less than 1/4 cup) to smooth out the sauce.

Serve.

"Gave proof through the night

That our flag was still there"²

¹ Please see aforementioned "Fun surprises."

² Key, Francis Scott. "The Star Spangled Banner" 1814. Resolved, Official National Anthem of the United States, March 03, 1931.

“The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts” Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 29 Dec 2025 03:28:00 +0000

The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts

Part 3

They were seated at breakfast and Jinsue, though she did not call him by any name, confidently addressed her grandfather. Kineth made an exaggerated quizzical gesture with his face, which he followed up with a smile, “I didn’t realize you were having guests last night, Jinsue! Christmas supper is at five tonight, the caterer is coming at three, and we aren’t otherwise expecting anyone. You can invite your seagoblin, we could still use a little help with the meal.”

***

Rieb Damps’ exterior holiday lights emitted a hazy glow that was visible from the north-south, tree lined, two lane road that led to the heavy gates of the Damps. Most of the tree branches were bare in the wintry fog. The tree line was at about the height of a three story building and every few hundred feet there was a street lamp, illuminating the cold, dry afternoon. A short ride south on the same curved road led to town, and a bit further along led to the town’s oldest cemetery. Shepherds, vintners, merchants and war heroes had been laid to rest there long ago, not far from the town founders. A weathered plaque adjacent to a family crypt announced Maryanne and Kineth’s forefathers as the town’s founders and earliest residents.

Bebe and Richard Novena, youthful newlyweds, had been caroling the town with their traveling improvisational dancing troupe for the last couple of days. This afternoon they had splintered off from the group to carol the cemetery, which they understood to be historic.

Visiting the cemetery had been part of why they had joined the dancing troupe on this journey, away from their modest home a couple of hours north of the town by rail, however, Bebe and Richard had not able to persuade the others to carol the cemetery, and the majority of the troupe would be attending a small party at a chowder restaurant back at the town.

“Bebe, look at this inscription, it says it’s the oldest cemetery from this era to survive and still be in private hands… they keep it open a few hours a week as a courtesy, it’s not part of the town or anything. Sensational! Let’s go carol their house, Bebe, as a way to say thanks. I know where it is.”

Although at first Bebe had been concerned that Richard was wading into the wrong about invading the privacy of those spending the holidays at Rieb Damps, she also felt like she would like to try and get a look at the Damps, and thus she allowed herself to be persuaded by her more adventurous, and usually impeccably careful husband. Bebe thought of the other carolers, their agenda apparently set in stone in a manner she had felt was completely antithetical to an improvisational troupe, and decided to follow her husband’s lead. “Let’s do it!” she laughed, as she poured him and her a cup of cider and toasted their recent nuptials in the serene memorial park.

Over at the Damps, Kineth had left the gates open to accommodate the soon to arrive caterer and also, it was his custom to do so on Christmas, as well as a couple of other times a year.

The caterer had retained an assistant to help with the meal at Rieb Damps, and, as the assistant had been driving the caterer’s pick up truck as it had turned onto the road that led to the Damps, the caterer had been looking out the passenger side window, and that’s why she was able to see Bebe and Richard caroling at the front entrance of the Damps. Their costumes were first rate and their voices were melodic, powerful and beautiful, however, the caterer had wondered if they could even hear it inside the home, so, after some reflection, she made up her mind to tell Kineth about it.

“There’s carolers, Sir, at the front entrance, they look like a nice sort, I think I’ve seen her on the television before, they’re just caroling the road at the entrance to the Damps, sir, can you even hear them from here?”

Following some additional conversation, the caterer had dispatched her assistant back to the north-south road to invite the carolers in for Christmas Supper.

“Did you hear that, Jinsue? I see your Seagoblin and raise you Christmas Carolers!”

In the great room, Jinsue giggled. Next to the ornamented, glistening blue fir, she held in her arms her new kitten and made her big announcement. “The kitten’s a he and his name is “Slim Shady”.”

Maryanne had wanted to share with Kineth an anecdote about her history with Lev, over supper, and upon learning they’d be sharing Christmas supper with the complete strangers the caterer had encountered, decided to not wait until supper to share her story.

“... so there we were, at this renaissance faire that his work sponsored, in complete costume, and I was telling him all about being a leisure researcher, and about how people go on vacations for experiences, because it’s what they remember even years later, when suddenly this guy dressed as a horse, collapsed! And Lev sprang into action, and he saved his life. Because I spent some time with him after that, I realized he could be really pompous about certain things, however, when he saved that guy’s life, he was so nonchalant, so humble; that’s the person I want to remember, always. Maybe I should have given him a second chance… and then it was too late… Lev died from the plague before they were even sure what it was…”

Jinsue, dressed for Christmas, had been listening dreamily as her mother told Grandfather about Daddy. That’s the most Maryanne had ever said about him in front of Jinsue. She clutched Slim Shady and threw herself on the sofa just as the caterer’s assistant announced the arrival of Bebe and Richard Novena.

Since their costumes were intended to be worn outdoors, they were quite heavy, and Maryanne asked the carolers if they wanted to change before dinner. Bebe looked at her husband in astonishment and appreciative admiration. Bebe would never have had the nerve to drive up to a strangers house and sing, at their doorstep, practically. And now, here they were, being feted by the town’s most elite family; the reason they were all here. Bebe thought of her counterparts at a chowder restaurant and felt quite satisfied, almost smug.

Richard played the piano for them after they had changed, and the Novenas continued to sing, right until they all sat down for Christmas supper, which proceeded much more smoothly than Maryanne could have ever anticipated. Kineth had a gift for entertaining people and putting them at ease, and this skill he had, which he did not show to everyone, was fully observable as Richard excitedly shared about their recent wedding, and the places the improvisational troupe planned to visit in the coming year. Richard kept thinking about how many times, in so many different places, he had attended an opera or an exhibition at a cultural institution and read the same simple phrase, “Brought to you by Kineth Riebling Enterprises” and Richard felt so awed and happy that his wife had agreed to his plan.

They had all finished their supper, however, their plates were still in front of them, when Kineth suggested they walk over to the plum blossom patch before dessert.

“Perhaps you could indulge us on our walk by sharing the story of how you met Richard, Bebe.”

They walked.

“Well, that’s so funny that you asked! I was working a traveling renaissance faire a few years ago, and Richard was there too, dressed as a horse. I was trying to find the right person to introduce me to Richard because I already knew who he was and thought he was really handsome and funny and talented, however we didn’t have any suitable friends in common. I wasn’t in costume; I had been helping backstage with the music and lost track of him that day. A few days later it got around that Richard had collapsed and almost died at the faire. He’d had his life saved by a doctor attending the faire on a first date with his girlfriend! Well, I called and introduced myself to the doctor, a Dr. Gizmo Leandro Tigre. We had a friend in common who had also been there that day helping me with the sound. We made plans to go to dinner, so he could properly introduce me to Richard, about a month later. I tried to get the doctor to invite his girlfriend, however he was quite circumspect about that, very private; we couldn’t even get him to tell us her name, and she was in costume that day, so we didn’t really have any idea what she looked like… so that’s it, we all had dinner, and he went back to his life and we began ours, and it all went so quickly… When everything started becoming quite monstrous with the plague we were overseas, visiting family, and decided to stay there for a while. It wasn’t until we started planning our wedding last year that we learned that the doctor had died! Last month we dedicated our small wedding ceremony to him. The friend we’d had in common wasn’t there either, the plague claimed him too… I’ll show you the program with the dedication, I have one in my handbag.”

Jinsue walked, clutching Slim Shady; she leaned against Kineth, who had grown quite silent in his tuxedo. Maryanne was looking at her father, searchingly, when they arrived at the plum blossom patch, adjacent to the abandoned beachfront theme park.

Suddenly, overhead, a glow began to descend, a whirling funnel cloud of a wind, tinged in smoky light; a seagoblin howl. Misty, it began to encircle the group. The whirling apparition emitted a terrifying crashing howling sound and an already spooked Jinsue screamed.

“The seagoblin, it’s back!”

The hairs on Slim Shady’s neck stood and the tiny kitten leaped away from Jinsue as the apparition overhead grew brighter and louder.

Now lagging several feet behind the Rieblings, the carolers stood terrified; they held each other in stunned silence. The excitement they’d recently happily exuded was replaced by terror, and regret. Why had they come here? Had some evil thing possessed them in that cemetery earlier, would they ever leave Rieb Damps? No one knew where they were except the caterer!

It thundered, and then there was lightning. The sky was ghastly- completely illuminated in mordant hues of green, and choking smoke and the piercing sounds of a screaming wind that had to be more than weather. The giant lion’s head of the abandoned roller coaster at the theme park seemed to mock them in the terrifying moment.

Kineth stood up, completely straight, he placed his arms protectively around his daughter and his screaming granddaughter, and as he looked up, the violent sounds took on a slower, more melodic rhythm.

Another apparition appeared in the sky, glossier, and the wind calmed. The glossy apparition seemed to take shape as it completely surrounded what Jinsue perceived to be a giant seagoblin in the skies above Rieb Damps. It exuded an indigo light and swallowed the screaming sounds of thunder and choking smoke.

The carolers began to relax. Instinctively, they began to sing. The skies calmed overhead. Maryanne thought she saw the silhouette of a giant purple cat in the sky as the winds calmed and quieted. They were completely enveloped in this light and it was tinged with a bit of warmth and whatever it was, it pushed the seagoblin back out to the New England coast.

Jinsue was completely calm now. Her gaze went from the suddenly serene skies above her, to the apparently undisturbed plum blossom patch. At the foot of the patch was Slim Shady and very close next to him another tiny kitten, seemingly from the same litter, overlooked by the gardener, white. The kittens were untroubled.

Kineth picked them both up, he looked around to see that everybody was okay. They all started walking back towards the manse.

Back in the dining room, each in their own way recalibrating after such seemingly inexplicable events, they prepared for dessert. After a pensive dessert, throughout which Maryanne said almost nothing, the Novenas pleasantly and quietly departed.

***

Thoughtfully closing the front door after the Novenas, Maryanne tells Kineth that she and Jinsue will stay and they will name the second kitten after Lev.

***

A couple of hours later, Bebe and Richard Novena repose at the lounge of their hotel, they are reflectively playing the piano and trying to make sense of the events of dinner when members of their traveling improvisational dancing troupe arrive back from their party at the chowder restaurant.

The End

🙀 "The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" is fiction. Part 1 October 28th 2025 🙀

🙀 "The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" is fiction. Part 2 November 28th 2025 🙀

"The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 28 Nov 2025 23:04:00 +0000

The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts

Part 2

That night it stormed again and Maryanne dreamed that she was lost in an abandoned theme park and that a giant, glowing, seaweed festooned goblin was chasing her. Jinsue’s screaming woke Maryanne.

“Mommy, it’s a seagoblin! It’s chasing me!”

Maryanne was staying in her bedroom from childhood. There was a very old fireplace in it and on three of the four walls, about eight feet up, a little more than half of the way up, wallpapered newer walls covered the original walls, which were stone. The pattern on the wallpaper matched the very heavy curtains over the glass door sliders which led out to Maryanne’s slate patio. Down the hall there were some rooms that would be perfect for Jinsue, Maryanne had thought. Maryanne’s elderly aunt had lived in them and they had reposed empty and silent since Viola had died, when Maryanne had been twelve or thirteen. For now however, Jinsue was also sleeping in Maryanne’s old bedroom, because Maryanne was concerned about overwhelming her daughter with too much change.

The enormous stone home, built by Maryanne’s ancestors, featured nearly identical slate patios adjacent to all of the bedrooms. All of the bedrooms opened unto the back of the home and thus, most had at least a partial view of the ocean. Although Maryanne had not visited in many years, there wasn’t any sense of neglect to be detected within her quarters. There were other parts of the house that did feel more their age: the screening rooms where Maryanne’s mother and Kineth had wined and dined their variegated guests; a brick handyman’s “closet” larger than an urban apartment; the consecrated chapel in the cavernous, sunlit cellar. Maryanne had suspensefully watched Jinsue as she had taken it all in when they had first arrived at the Damps.

When Maryanne awoke to Jinsue screaming she had fleetingly forgotten where they were. For a moment, more than a moment, for a few scary seconds, Maryanne thought they were both being chased by a seagoblin, through the abandoned haunted house at the beachside theme park next door.

Maryanne reflexively sprang out of bed. Her hand followed the texture of the old familiar wallpaper until she was switching on the big chandelier. She then hugged Jinsue, “It was only a dream, my love, everything is okay.”

With that, Maryanne put her and Jinsue’s slippers on, as well as the wooly robes she had packed for each. She cracked open the patio sliders, activating nearby exterior floodlights. They cast a warm glow on Maryanne’s patio on that cold night. Maryanne carried Jinsue out to the patio on her hip. She pointed: “Look at the beach. Can you see that, Jinsue? That’s real. The seagoblin was fake, just a dream.”

Maryanne and Jinsue listened to the soothing sound of the waves breaking on the nearby shore. Maryanne hugged Jinsue, now in her lap, as they sat on the tufted upholstery of the iron patio chair lounger. And then… there was a ghostly sound, an eerie seagoblin sound, distorted and distant, which startled Jinsue. She hugged her mommy even more tightly.

Maryanne had never, even for a moment, felt afraid at Rieb Damps. That sound was probably just something in the distance, distorted by the night wind, it was definitely not a seagoblin, and Maryanne didn’t want to teach Jinsue to be afraid, not at home in the city and definitely not at Rieb Damps. However, it was very cold; it was late December in Rhode Island, so Maryanne, still hugging her kind, sweet, obedient daughter, took her back inside to the warmth of her childhood bedroom, and soon they were both again deeply asleep. Throughout the entire episode, at the foot of the fireplace, the as of yet unnamed kitten had not stirred from its profound and breathy sleep.

“Did you hear the seagoblin last night?”

[To be continued...]

🙀 "The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" is fiction. Part 1 October 28th 2025 🙀

🙀 "The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" is fiction. Part 2 November 28th 2025 🙀

🙀 "The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" is fiction. Part 3 December 28th 2025 🙀

"The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 28 Oct 2025 19:18:00 +0000

The Christmas Kittens.

A Winter Tale in 3 Parts.

Part 1.

Maryanne Riebling quickly glanced back to her five year old daughter to confirm her booster seat was fastened before cautiously proceeding as the light signaled green.

Behind them lay incomprehensible carnage, literally, starting around the time Jinsue’s daddy Lev had succumbed to the plague that had transformed their colorful urban enclave into an actual morgue city, a landscape of the cruelly dead, box trucks marked “Refrigerated, for fruit” that actually contained the now seemingly countless victims of the plague. So many. There wasn’t room for so many dead, lost to the catastrophic tragedy that had transformed everything.

Now, continuing to navigate Jinsue to her grandfather’s home, Maryanne enthusiastically continued her and her daughter’s sing-along.

The idyllic tableau of the sing-along, this strawberry blonde haired, nearly forty aged single mother, ponytail swaying as she bopped her head to the upbeat music, her smiling daughter giggling as she sang along with her mom in unison, emphasized their emphatic hopefulness as a trail of melody wafted in their wake, on a late bucolic December morning.

The city that was getting further and further away from them as Maryanne drove calmly along the two way, grass lined road, lay in shambles.

It had not been just the plague, which had taken Jinsue’s daddy very quickly, it was the scale of the sadness and anger that had affected, it seemed, everybody. The morgues had run out of space and the refrigerated fruit trucks had been stealthily deployed, lest the numerous dead literally litter the streets. Maryanne experienced a fleeting memory of her daughter’s now deceased daddy as she calculated two, perhaps three hours before she would arrive to her childhood home in Rhode Island.

Maryanne had never disclosed to Lev that their brief romance had left her with child; they had had a very good time and Maryanne had ghosted him long before she had learned her daughter was coming. And, in fairness, Lev hadn’t made much of an effort to stay in contact with Maryanne either; months turned into years without contact and then one day watching the news on television Maryanne had been quite startled over breakfast to learn that Lev had died. She had looked over to Jinsue, obliviously eating her cereal when Lev’s image flashed onscreen during the newscast: a doctor of some renown, felled by the plague that at that time had taken hundreds, not yet millions, of lives.

In telegraphing its cruel path, the plague took the doctors and other healthcare workers first.

Maryanne cast her eyes downward as she remembered the evening they had met.

Maryanne, still in her costume, had been making her way home from a Halloween party in the courtyard of one of her neighbor’s beautiful, historic homes. She was a few blocks from the party, almost a quarter of the way home, when she'd removed her mask. Just after Maryanne turned the corner she had nearly collided with a handsome stranger about her age. He was in street clothes and clutched a clipboard which held a patient’s chart. He had been speaking into his cellphone and Maryanne had heard him when he crisply said “I will call you back.” That’s when his piercing gaze had descended upon her: “Please accept my apology, I was too distracted.”

He was really handsome, though not in the way her last boyfriend had been and Maryanne thought, “Great, finally a decent looking guy and here I am in a ridiculous Halloween costume! At least I am not wearing a mask.” Out loud she said: “It’s totally okay, happy Halloween, good night.”

Sensing an opportunity the doctor sprang into action. “Please, let me make it up to you, how about a drink later?”

Maryanne, who had now come to a complete stop, stood, in her ridiculous Halloween costume, and looked at the incredibly handsome stranger with increasing skepticism. He continued, “I’m Dr. Gizmo Leandro Tigre, by the way. I work over there.” He nodded toward the health sciences center in the new building across the street, and Maryanne’s skepticism abated. “My friends call me Lev.”

"Well, okay, since you’re a doctor, I guess it’s okay? However, I just can’t tonight.” She tried to mask her sense of awkwardness and amusement.

“This weekend? We sponsor a seasonal renaissance faire. Come with me? On Sunday at 1:30? You can meet me right here, on Sunday at 1:30. You don’t have to be in costume, however if you want to go in costume, what you are wearing right now is perfect… Yes? I’m usually just not that careless.” Lev smiled kindly.

Maryanne had thought that if he’d ever reached out to her she might tell him she and he had a daughter, however up until that moment at breakfast she had avoided the issue and it hadn’t really come up, much. Her friends had never met him and she had been functionally estranged from her family until recently.

She was not actually estranged from them. They financially supported her; Maryanne had just stopped coming home for the holidays years ago, and they had never visited her home in the city, and eventually the only communication they had was the ongoing financial arrangement. Maryanne was now going home for the first time in sixteen years.

After Lev died she had concluded to try harder with her family, now also dwindling. She wanted Jinsue to have at least one man in her life who loved her unconditionally and Kineth had never been truly terrible to her.

Maryanne had left home when she had started college and had never returned. She had lived in four different cities in the past eighteen years, made few permanent friends and had mostly dedicated herself to her career as a leisure and hospitality researcher.

Lev had certainly been brilliant and undoubtedly fun, however Maryanne questioned if she could have abided his pompous nature for a lifetime. She had also felt uncomfortably dissonant imagining a conversation between Lev and her own father, Kineth. Lev had possessed the steely determination of one who had been in charge of many lives, and in this way, he and Kineth were alike.

Although the structure in which Maryanne had spent her first years was more castle than house, the Rieblings had lived simply. No one lived with her father at Rieb Damps any longer, not even a health aide. As a kid Maryanne had hated never having privacy from her parent’s employees; this had hastened her departure and then delayed her returns. Right about now though, she was looking forward to her father’s companionship and the weathered stone almost-castle. Maryanne wondered what Lev would have thought of it.

Kineth had sounded happy that Maryanne was coming home and he had not asked any overly personal questions about Jinsue, which had been a great source of relief for Maryanne.

“If you don’t have anything lined up, stay on through Christmas, New Year’s” her father had suggested, “It could be nice to have a child at the house again, especially over the holidays.”

Maryanne had listened carefully, reflecting on Kineth’s cautious, sober tone. That was the first time she had ever felt truly bad about not telling Lev about Jinsue.

Mother and daughter stopped for a late lunch at a rest stop about forty minutes from her childhood home before taking on the last part of the trip. Maryanne ordered an extra plate of food to bring home to Rieb Damps.

Although their stay was of an indeterminate length, Maryanne had packed light.

***

They had just finished setting up the Christmas tree when Kineth had suggested going out for a walk. “We’ll have s’mores when we get back.”

Rieb Damps had only one neighbor along the wetlands of the New England coast. It was a theme park and Maryanne remembered it from childhood. It had closed around the time she had moved away. There was cyclone fencing demarcating the property line between Rieb Damps and the theme park, running the entire length of the one side and the back of the estate.

Maryanne had long loved playing and lingering at the patch of plum blossoms on her side of the property line. She had used to hoist herself up in those trees and from there could see not just over to one of the theme park rides, a smallish roller coaster with a giant lion’s head at the entrance to the ride, she could also see all the way to the now abandoned haunted house attraction, further along, almost at the beach.

Even now, abandoned for years, she loved the sight of the theme park. It had become overgrown and ghostly and as Maryanne stood there with her father and Jinsue she thought of how much time had passed since she had distracted herself there for hours, with her friends from high school.

“MOMMY, IT’S KITTENS.” Jinsue shrieked with delight.

Maryanne’s father smiled quietly at his daughter as he addressed his granddaughter. “Let’s collect some branches for the fire so we can toast some s’mores, Jinsue.”

Maryanne quietly wondered if it was too cold for the kittens. Were they abandoned theme park kittens? Did they live on the beach? So many questions.

Abutting the theme park’s cyclone fencing on the Damps side was an eight foot tall stone and steel fence. It was stone from the ground up, and then at around the six foot point, black steel. Every ten feet or so along the fence, embedded into the stone was a marble bench, about two feet wide. When they’d erected the fence, they had skipped installing around thirteen feet of length, so as to not disturb the plum blossom patch. This was the only place along the property line from where one could see into the theme park from Rieb Damps just by looking through the gaps in the cyclone fencing.

“Mommy can I have a kitten, please!” Jinsue had her little fingers curled around the cyclone fencing, as she crouched under the plum blossom patch. Maryanne again glanced at her father serenely seated on one of the marble benches closest to the plum blossom patch. He motioned to a small pet shelter he had positioned within the plum blossom patch. Maryanne noticed it there for the first time. “Dad, do the kittens live in the plum blossom patch?”

“They sleep here at night. They were born a few weeks ago, and have started to come and go. I’ve been feeding them with the gardener’s help, for the last two weeks, after their mother never came back. He thinks he can find homes for them. They are usually all here in the early morning. Jinsue, we are going to come back here very early tomorrow morning and you are going to pick one to be your pet.”

Maryanne blinked back tears. How had she let so much time go without seeing him?

That night, after s’mores by the outdoor den fireplace, there had been a very noisy storm. Maryanne had thought she heard a ghostly howling and had struggled to sleep.

Early the next morning, coffees in hand, and a hot chocolate for Jinsue, they’d strolled back to the plum blossom patch and Jinsue had excitedly chosen a gray and white striped kitten with sparkling gray eyes, just as the gardener had placed the rest in carrying cases for transport.

“Do you already have homes for them?” Maryanne had asked him.

“The missus! She’s taking them over to our neighbors, their son is a vet; he has an entire rescue operation in place. Bye bye!”

That night it stormed again and Maryanne dreamed that she was lost in an abandoned theme park and that a giant, glowing, seaweed festooned goblin was chasing her. Jinsue’s screaming woke Maryanne.

“Mommy, it’s a seagoblin! It’s chasing me!”

🙀 "The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" is fiction. Part 2 November 28th 2025 🙀

🙀 "The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" is fiction. Part 3 December 28th 2025 🙀

🥳

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 28 Jul 2025 14:38:00 +0000

Counting Down to 20 #3

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 18 Jul 2025 14:38:00 +0000

Counting Down to 20 # 2

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 11 Jul 2025 14:38:00 +0000

Counting Down to 20 # 1

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 02 Jul 2025 18:00:00 +0000

🥧 Celebrating Pi Day 𝝅

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 14 Mar 2025 15:31:00 +0000

Wishing all well and celebrating Pi day 2025, loyal readers! On deck for 2026:

A/M 20th Anniversary Edition,

celebrating 20 years since the 1st edition.

︵‿︵‿*20*‿︵‿︵

🎉 Welcoming 2025 🎉

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 01 Jan 2025 05:00:00 +0000

Wishing you, dear readers, a wonderful year as we ring in 2025 🎉 thank you so much for joining us on this sometimes quixotic, hopefully memorable digital journey!

This year is very special for the blog because we are celebrating its 20th birthday*🎂

Fun piece of trivia: July 19, 2005 is the exact birthday, when we officially began development (Thanks POP/IMAP)!

Still our most popular post, please enjoy "A Brief History of Nino's Block"!

https://stanza28.blogspot.com/2019/07/a-brief-history-of-ninos-block.html

And Renwick is catching up to it 🦮. You can find Renwick here:

https://stanza28.blogspot.com/2021/08/renwick-exorcist-i.html

Coming up later this year:

"The Christmas Kittens: A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" and some other fun surprises as well.

Find and enjoy the stanza28™ Fausse Arcade at:

https://stanza28.creator-spring.com/ and finally, thank you past contributors; it's future time 😉.

*For the nostalgic, here is a link to our first blog post: https://stanza28.blogspot.com/2006/09/blog-post.html

The Making of a GOAT Scarf

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 28 Feb 2024 13:00:00 +0000

Prereqs:

A cashmere sweater for upcycling ( I used a purple jumper, presumably from a purple Kashmiri GOAT).

A silk dress for upcycling ( I used a sleeveless dress, about an inch below the knee length).

Needle, thread & iron.

Step 1.

Lay the sweater flat, cut the sweater across the chest in a straight line, just below the armholes. Take the bottom piece and cut open either the right or left side, whatever your preference, and iron flat (The remaining piece, use as a shrug).

Step 2.

Lay the dress flat, pin the sweater piece lengthwise along the front of the dress and cut an equally wide & long length of the dress (add an inch on each side for a seam allowance). Iron silk remnant flat.

Step 3.

Pin the two fabrics together good sides in, sew the edges together, leave about 4 inches at the bottom open. Iron flat. Turn inside out by hand. Finish by handstiching the remaining 4 inches.

Enjoy your GOAT scarf :)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium III

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 20 Jan 2024 18:20:00 +0000

Fegefeuer’s Blackout

A trembling and shaking began to overcome Fegefeuer’s Emporium. There was a loud rumbling thunderous sound as Fegefeuer’s eyes widened and perspiration collected on his brow, and then shock.

At first Fegefeuer had though it was a rare Las Vegas earthquake, however the sight he now beheld said different.

The rumbling continued, and the smoke Fegefuere had so assiduously arranged for had begun to billow away from an emerging center of activity, not far from the first aisle of the Emporium. Fegefeuer could not believe what he was seeing, and he struggled to retain his composure.

In the center of what had been the first aisle, the ground was opening and light and stone were emerging, and dirt spewed out, like a darkened volcano. The fog continued to clear and a hill began to emerge and grow out of the chasm that had erupted. It was more than a crack in the floor of the first aisle; the first aisle was gone, the carpeting was gone and a craggy hill was rapidly emerging and growing into a two story, then three story, hill.

The fog continued to clear. Fegefeuer was terrified. Still attempting to compose himself, he outstretched his hand before him.

The hill continued to emerge from the ground and pierced and then collapsed the roof of the Emporium. Streams of intense sunlight crashed the tableau. A grinding sound continued, and then louder, and louder still, and finally the desert sky was suddenly visible above Fegefeuer, who looked up in trembling horror.

Everything then became dark, as the streaming light disappeared and Fegefeuer caught his breath and clutched his hand to his chest in the unexpected moonlit desert evening.

What is happening? His mind's eye fluttered.

Below the Emporium was Fegefeuer’s cellar, where seven rows of desks and computer equipment sat, accommodating Fegefeuer’s other pursuit. When Fegefeuer wasn’t selling pool noodles he was composing and debugging lines upon lines of computer code under Las Vegas Boulevard.

His patient and analytical mind was not comprehending the vision before him. Where was the cellar? What had happened to the roof of the Emporium? How had this glittering, nearly black hill come to extrude from where the first aisle of his Emporium had been, just a few seconds ago? He clutched his chest again, wondering if he was having a stroke or a heart attack and astonished as to why he had no idea how to answer this question.

It was dark and Fegefeuer heard what sounded like shattering glass, only much louder, and he took a few steps backwards, disbelief quickly evolving into unmitigated panic.

All of the smoke gone, he looked up the glittering hill possibly six or seven stories tall, now towering before him, the parking lot nowhere to be seen, and Fegefeuere walked towards the hill, still clutching his chest and still beheld by terror and panic.

The next moment Fegefeuer was able to clearly recall went like this: he was flat on his back, in the cellar of the Emporium. He slowly looked up and saw the stairs that led to the end of the first aisle of the Emporium, which was again visible, one level above him. The lights were all out and it was stiflingly and uncharacteristically warm in the cellar. Seven rows of desks and computer equipment sat silently, with no humming, and emitting no flashing lights whatsoever. Haltingly, Fegefeuer forced himself off the linoleum cellar floor. He strained to reorient himself. Through sheer force of will, he reached for the water dispenser in the cellar. He poured a cup of it over his head, then another, and another.

There was no longer a glittering stone hill towering before him, and the illuminated dessert sky no longer shone above, it was replaced again by the nondescript ceiling of the cellar. The lights and everything else in the cellar were still all shut off. Fegefeuer, haltingly, made his way up the stairs and incredulously looked all the way across the Emporium.

The smoke from the fog machine continued to scent the air, and it was still dark, and this brought a sense of certitude to Fegefeuer’s perception.

He had made his way up the stairs in the dark easily, from memory, and also because glow in the dark paint illuminated the path on the stairs and the exits. Now, behind the register, Fegefeuer retrieved and extinguished his flashlight, and began to more carefully survey his surroundings.

Nothing looked amiss, however it was warmer, much warmer than usual in the Emporium. Everything was turned off; the overhead lights, the air conditioning. The entertainment system, which provided atmospheric moody music was similarly silenced. Slowly, as Fegefeuer continued to regain his sense of composure, he noted and listened intently to growingly clear sounds of Strip traffic just outside.

Had the heat caused him to faint and hallucinate? As his mind continued to rapidly consider the possibilities, a whirring sound caught his attention; everything suddenly blinked back on; the lights, the air conditioning, the sound system.

Still confused, however, also exhaling in sincerely held relief, Fegefeuer made his way to the front door of the Emporium, and locked it, almost simultaneously flipping the old fashioned door sign to indicate the Emporium was closed. Fegefeuer turned back around and walked back towards the cash register, quickly considering that he needed a few moments to collect his thoughts, to decide if he needed an ambulance, to consider if everything might shut off again, and what he would do if it did... he was mentally scanning all of these possible eventualities when Fegefeuer noticed, across from the register, atop the burled walnut wall unit; the terrarium sat, EMPTY.

The red, white and black milksnake Fegefeuer had named after himself had left its enclosure. Fegefeuer the Snake had exited the Emporium.

Part 2

Vencesla at the SPA

In the dimly lit spa waiting room, Vencesla was informed that her spa appointment had to be rescheduled. The hotel casino was experiencing a blackout, and they had been instructed to evacuate.

A full half hour later Vencesla sat in a pool lounger behind her hotel, awaiting permission to return to her room. The spa level was near the ground floor, so it had only been several small flights of stairs and hallway before Vencesla had been escorted to the rear courtyard of her lush accommodations. She absently watched some adults as they yelled “Marco!" “Polo!” in the dusking afternoon sun. There had been some splashing commotion afterward and she shifted her attention to her well laid plans; her spa appointment cancelled, and it seemed there was still some unrest at the resort. A man approached Vencesla, taking a seat in the lounger next to hers.

“Didn’t I see you at the “Will Call” earlier?
“Yes, I’m Vencesla.”
"Hello, I’m Keegan. I think our show tonight will probably be rescheduled due to this blackout.”

“Are you a Bunny Dolores fan?” Vencesla inquired, absolutely enchanted with this soft spoken gentleman who had struck up a conversation.

“Say, Vencesla, would you like to join me and my sister and her fiancé for dinner this evening? The show’s definitely cancelled. My sister is here on vacation with her fiancé. I was just in the pool with them, they have been engaged for a while, with no date set, and just before, he just started having chest pains while we were playing “Marco Polo.” We were passing the time until they give the all clear to return to their room. They decided to get married tonight. I sure could use an additional witness. We are getting a car to a place down the strip and then dinner in a little while. Would you like that? Two Bunny Dolores fans witnessing an impromptu wedding?”

“I would like that, thank you. Right now, or...?"

Overhead, the public address system was informing the resort guests they could return to their rooms.

“Can you meet the party at the Concierge at 6PM? We will all leave from there.” Keegan gave Vencesla a confident smile.

After Fegefeuer’s Blackout

Fegefeuer, in the aftermath of his blackout had decided against a hospital. He concluded instead to steady his nerves with a semi long drive north.

He felt almost as if he was being pulled there. He drove away from the Emporium, the sign on the door reading “Closed Due to Blackout.” He thought about Fegefeuer the Milksnake and wondered how the terrarium had shattered in the dark of what he had experienced earlier. He drove, past Charleston Peak, and continued north.

The Alien in the Desert

North of the glittering city, Hortense arrived at the alien cemetery. Hortense was more at peace now, the unease from earlier was subsiding as an earth automobile stopped, and a human emerged, a few hundred feet from where Hortense watched.

Precious & Alfonse in the Hotel Lobby III

“You have a date for our impromptu wedding.” Precious repeated back to her brother, skeptically, but not unhappily.

“Wait til you see her, sis! It’s fate she should join us, our show was cancelled tonight because of the blackout.”

“Well, the car is going to be here any minute. What time did you tell her to meet us?”

“There she is!” Precious followed her younger sibling’s enthusiastic gaze to an approaching petite woman, who was smiling calmly as she approached them.

“Thanks to my little brother, I have a Bridesmaid! So happy to meet you, Vencesla!”

“Congratulations!”

Alfonse smiled quietly as the festively attired party walked away from the Concierge, a happy group. Moments later they arrived at the valet, and briefly thereafter, in the waning sun of the American desert, the party arrived at a walk in wedding chapel.

Later, in a secluded booth at a steak house of grand repute the jovial, impromptu group toasted to Precious and Alfonse. They had been served champagne by the staff, who had been extremely accommodating about the recent nuptials. Their car awaited in the parking lot, and Precious was feeling a sense of relaxation as she took her husband’s hand and they made their way from the booth and back to the parking lot.

Alfonse, who had been subdued all night, suddenly slumped, his head rotating from one side to the other before he fell to the ground.

Precious cried out for her brother. Keegan had been walking behind his older sister, happily chatting with the lovely Vencesla and he and Vencesla had locked eyes, in panic, when Alfonse had crumpled to the ground.

The Alien in the Desert II

Hortense outstretched its upper appendage, sensing Fegefeuer as he approached in the darkness. Fegefuer gasped as his senses fully appreciated that this was no usual encounter in the desert. As Hortense' appendage continued to unfurl towards Fegefuer, their bodies touched and a sudden white bright flash of glittering light encapsulated them both, and, just as quickly disappeared. Hortense was gone, dematerialized. Fegefuer was gone, dematerialized.

Fegefuer's car sat, abandoned in the desert, and in the distance, a milksnake crawled into the night.

Precious, Her Brother, Vencesla in the ER

He wagered at a slot machine across the parking lot from the ER, where his sister, Precious, waited. Vencesla sat by him quietly, praying silently.

"I want you to visit me next month, Keegan. Stay at my home, I will show you the city and everything in it."

He smiled at Vencesla, appreciative for this gesture at a moment when so much was in flux.

"I accept, Vencesla, I will stay at your home, we will go out and see the sights!" He touched her hand, and quietly shifted his gaze to the Emergency Room entrance across the parking lot. Precious was emerging from the double glass doors. She had awoken this morning on vacation, single. She had been informed that she was now a widow, and the only next of kin to her recently deceased husband's children.

Keegan and Vencesla walked across the parking lot and embraced Precious. Keegan held his sister close and no one said anything.

(Editor's note: The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium is fiction.)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II (Available December 20, 2023)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium III (Available January 20, 2024)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 19 Dec 2023 14:11:00 +0000

The Alien

Although it did not sense light in the same way the humans did, the Alien (earth name: Hortense) knew there was a difference between the waking time and the sleeping time. The latter tended to guarantee Hortense’s security as it explored the barren and it thought, beautiful desertscape which the humans referred to as “Las Vegas.”

Hortense was not visible to the usual human eye. Some humans could see it though, it had deduced, displeased, one late night as its placid stroll through the desert had been unceremoniously disturbed, soiled really, by a screaming earthling teenager who, apparently through some genetic mutation, was able to detect its nearly three story high presence as Hortense had been enjoying its vacation from its distant home.

The teenaged mutant human female had been with her earthling male companion of similar age and rotundness, who could not see Hortense, and a terse argument between the couple had ensued.

The alien missed its significant other, who had not been able to make the journey due to administrative issues with work at the time Hortense had departed its home, magnitudes of light years from Earth.

In addition to having its equanimity disturbed the night before, by having been observed in the desert by the mutant human as Hortense had attempted to leisure, it also was currently experiencing a sense of unease. The waking time had just quite abruptly become the sleeping time. Hortense had reviewed a detailed schedule of when this was supposed to occur and the sudden darkness it was now witnessing was not on that schedule, undoubtedly.

Where was that graveyard again? With the aid of its exogalactic phone, Hortense navigated toward the alien graveyard in the unanticipated dark of the American desert. Hortense had heard it was a must see if one was to vacation in these parts. As it had been making its way to the graveyard, Hortense had sensed something unusual about the building in which Fegefuere's Emporium resided. Hortense had unexpectedly sensed the glittering building posed a threat to its existence.

The cumulative effects of: the waking time quite abruptly becoming the sleeping time, the panicked teenaged mutant, and also the unease it felt as it passed the Emporium, was a foreboding, an unexpected sense of oddity and unease which Hortense was determined to overcome, lest it undermine its trip.

Would this abrupt change of light further disrupt its vacation it wondered, inwardly groaning at the expense of interstellar travel.

Vencesla In her hotel room

Vencesla relaxed in her hotel room, in her favorite red satin bathrobe, emblazoned with her family crest, smiling up at the ceiling, greatly delighted by her accommodations. She would take the escalator to her spa appointment in less than an hour and was greatly anticipating this treat of relaxation. What kinds of products do they make available for purchase, she wondered, dreamily gazing up at the Art Deco lighting in her strip facing suite.

The night before, Vencesla had seen her Grandfather in a dream, which almost never happened. Grandfather was burning in hell and had urged her to pray for her mother, his daughter, so her afterlife could be better, perhaps comprised of cooking and dancing rather than eternal hellfire and damnation.

Vencesla, with effort, remembered with an increasing degree of specificity the unfamiliar and extremely vivid dream, recalling suddenly that in the dream she had been holding his hand as a little girl. This caused Vencesla to shudder involuntarily, recalling the many times Grandfather's behavior had terrorized her. She had spent her childhood at his enormous home. He made up lurid lies and told them to her mother in front of little Vencesla and she had grown up with ever aggrandizing fear when her mother continued to accept all of it and never questioned him. Grandfather had often acted with the intention of instilling fear in Vencesla, and in isolating her. The memory of it, of him, his power over her, had abated as the years without him accumulated, however, unexpected reminders of him were still cause for cognitive dissonance.

Vencesla smiled and patted her pillow, thinking of the cab she had taken to where she had collected her rental car. Grandfather would have been angered beyond toleration to know Vencesla was driving a car on her own; he had not allowed her mother ever to operate a car, and even now, years after his death, Vencesla’s mother did not operate machinery on her own.

Perhaps driving freely through the Las Vegas dessert, albeit very carefully, is what had brought forth the dream from her unconscious, she mused, as she quietly rode the escalator to the spa level.

Vencesla experienced a nasty jolt when, upon entering the spa, she was greeted by a male spa attendant who bore a startling resemblance to her late grandfather.

As Vencesla made her way to the spa, back home, Vencesla’s mother took her last breath, felled by an aortic catastrophe. However, Vencesla would not learn of this until later.

Another spa attendant, a woman, led Vencesla away from the Grandfather doppelgänger, to a comfortable waiting area where Vencesla was given a preparation of lemon and hot water and she sat, attempting to shake off the feeling of anxious foreboding she had intensely experienced moments earlier, upon having seen the Grandfather doppelgänger.

As Vencesla was selecting a magazine to peruse, seated in a spa issued fluffy robe, the entire spa went dark. Dios mio, she thought, frowning and clenching her jaw and placing her hands to her lips, how foolish of her to have believed, even for a moment, that seeing him in a dream would not portend greater troubles.

The last blackout for Vencesla had been back home at one of the local malls, and although she had been okay, Vencesla had later learned that several people had been mugged in the chaos. No stores had been looted, however, unlike when a much longer and more terrifying blackout had taken place two years prior.

Vencesla’s heart raced as her body unconsciously recoiled, in anticipation of a worst case scenario perhaps beyond anything she had even contemplated. The mirrored ceiling above her, which only a few brief moments before had delighted her, now reflected back the startled face of a terrified, petite, young lady.

Just as unexpectedly, a series of emergency lights began to dimly illuminate the spa waiting room. Vencesla was as astonished as she was relieved by the speed at which the blackout in the desert had been met with preparation.

Precious & Alfonse in the Hotel Lobby II

“Do you think it’s for a movie, Alfonse?”

Puzzled, Precious surveyed the glitzy din in the lobby of the five star hotel. Even as darkness had enveloped the large lounge, many patrons seemed to continue partaking.

As it was not visible to her from the two tone velvet, damask and crystal adorned bar, Precious could not tell if the gambling on the casino floor had been interrupted.

Alfonse had gotten up and Precious was able to make out his silhouette in the darkened lounge. The dim lighting was the reason she initially thought they had inadvertently entered a film shoot in progress.

It happened all the time at home, she thought, quizzically surveying her surroundings.

Fegefeuer’s Blackout

A trembling and shaking began to overcome Fegefeuer’s Emporium. There was a loud rumbling thunderous sound as Fegefeuer’s eyes widened and perspiration collected on his brow, and then shock.

At first Fegefeuer had though it was a rare Las Vegas earthquake, however the sight he now beheld said different.

The fog continued to clear. Fegefeuer was terrified. Still attempting to compose himself, he outstretched his hand before him.

The hill continued to emerge from the ground and pierced and then collapsed the roof of the Emporium. Streams of intense sunlight crashed the tableau.

A grinding sound continued, and then louder, and louder, and finally the desert sky was suddenly visible to Fegefeuer, who looked up in trembling horror.

Everything then became dark, as the streaming light disappeared and Fegefeuer caught his breath and clutched his hand to his chest in the unexpected moonlit desert evening.

What is happening? His mind raced.

Below the Emporium was Fegefeuer's cellar, where seven rows of desks and computer equipment sat, accommodating Fegefeuer's other pursuit. When Fegefeuer wasn't selling pool noodles he was composing and debugging lines upon lines of computer code under Las Vegas Boulevard.

To Be Continued

(Editor's Note: The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium is fiction)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II (Available December 20, 2023)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium III (Available January 20, 2024)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 20 Nov 2023 13:13:00 +0000

Part 1 The Emporium

The Emporium

Crossing the threshold into Fegefeuer’s Emporium from the breezy, mid afternoon sunshine of the Las Vegas spring, the smoky quality of the Emporium air was immediately palpable. Fegefeuer had installed the fog machine to achieve that effect, precisely.

The Emporium sat between the famed strip and the vintage neon downtown, closer to the strip. The one story stucco building was flanked to the north by a large parking lot for Emporium patrons. Fegefeuer’s was visited, alternately, by downtown tourists who undertook the long walk south, and strip tourists who drove, or also sometimes walked, a short distance north, either often quite without the express intent to end up there.

In the lot next to the strip an ageless restaurant operated, and sometimes the restaurant employees, as well its patrons, also wandered into the Emporium.

In addition to the capacious array of “Las Vegas” emblazoned souvenirs, such as pool noodles, coffee mugs, mouse pads, translucent red-orange sun visors, stainless steel water bottles, shot glasses, and all manner of keychains, Fegefeuer had more recently cordoned off a west facing portion of the store, which was now contributing robustly to the enterprise as a pawn shop. He had previously opened, and subsequently, recently closed a lost and found in the Emporium.

Below the artificial scented fog, in the west facing portion of the Emporium, previously owned items for purchase, mostly higher end accessories, sat inside a glass vitrine, beckoning obstreperous and silent shoppers alike.

On this particular afternoon, Vencesla Tovar, the only South American granddaughter of an absconded Nazi war criminal, was trying on a straw hat. It was her first visit to the United States, and although she took care to neither share nor perpetuate her antecedent’s widely outlawed views, she was still more like him than not, especially against the contrast of the sunny American desert.

Taking a few more minutes to pick up some trinkets for the maid and her kids, and for her elderly widowed mother, Vencesla planned to drive back to her hotel afterwards. She almost never drove in Latin America. At home, an orphan the family had taken in usually conducted this task for her. Vencesla had been unable to procure a US tourist visa for him to take the vacation with her, and thus found herself in the position of operating a rental car, slowly and carefully, along the wide, orderly Las Vegas streets.

Later, Vencesla had tickets to attend an elaborate theater like production,“The Bunny Dolores Show.” Attending that event had been the primary reason she had traveled to the United States. Vencesla had been fascinated with the elaborate stage production for years, following the artists’ growing popularity on television, and it seemed increasingly unlikely they would ever offer their performances in her hometown.

Vencesla had considered, and decided against, traveling with a tourist group. She had concluded it was best to not get mixed up with people she did not really know, particularly so far from home.

“The hat suits you” said Fegefeuer, approaching the only patron currently in the Emporium.

“Do you have any more?” Vencesla inquired, in heavily accented but well practiced English. “I would like seven, please.” At this she held up seven fingers, just in case her communication/pronunciation was more deficient than she anticipated.

Delighted, Fegefeuer assisted her in collecting six more of the “Las Vegas” emblazoned hats from the aisle display.

“If you purchase ten, I can give you a free ...”

A jolt of thunderous lightning cut through Fegefeuer’s sales pitch, startling him into silence. A moment and a half later, he had not resumed, and it began to rain loudly and voluminously— it rained, it seemed, desperately.

“A free water bottle?” Vencesla asked, smiling.

“Two free tickets to see a new tourist attraction that opens at the end of the month, they are good for a year.”

“Yes, please, thank you.” Vencesla answered, thinking about the size of her soft shell luggage and how it might accommodate the several hats.

At the register, her back to the entrance of Fegefeuer’s Emporium, the uncommon sound of heavy rain continued to pour down, crashing, splashing, dramatically punctuating their conversation. A bell jingled. It was an indication that another patron had entered the store.

Her attention momentarily drawn to the tall narrow mirror behind Fegefuere, Vencesla Tovar noticed the reflection of a couple entering the Emporium.

Precious wore a pastel velour track suit and satin high heeled sandals. He wore golf pants and a polo top in similar pastel hues. A golf umbrella he was now folding and depositing into an umbrella urn that Fegefeuer almost never had to think about had shielded the couple from the rain in the glitchy moment when they stepped between their luxury vacation car rental and the threshold of the Emporium.

“Well, Precious, what would you like to bring back for your soon to be step-children?”

“Alfonse, you are bossing me around again, you know how I don’t like that,” her silky voice conveying only mild disapproval, her lip gloss glistening.

“Take your time, Precious. Afterwards we will go for Margaritas in the hotel lobby and talk about what will become of them after our honeymoon.” He was smiling as his well manicured hands brushed a few drops of water from the front of his cashmere polo. Slowly he rotated his entire head, from one shoulder to another as he inquisitively looked up and around the Emporium. “Will you get a load of that fog, Precious?”

What could she deign to bring back as a souvenir for those brats, she wondered silently. Over a board game during the holidays one of his two children had decided it was somehow appropriate to make light of World War Two era concentration camps. She thought their natural mom must have been responsible for this malaise but at this particular moment kept her observations from her relaxed, widowed, mild mannered fiancé.

Across from the register a terrarium sat atop a burled walnut wall unit; in the terrarium lived a red, white and black milksnake, which Fegefuere had named after himself.

Fegefeuer the Snake usually went unnoticed, however on some occasions he had startled the customers.

When Precious realized she was looking at a snake she had almost cried out, and her hand momentarily, involuntarily, covered her full mouth. She wasn’t so much repulsed as surprised, and immediately walked away from the terrarium and reminded herself to resume her search for souvenirs. Her fluted heeled satin sandals left a faint indentation in the deep pink rug of the Emporium as her perception consciously followed her line of sight, to an aisle of sporting goods: Golf balls. Terrific for Alfonse, she thought, drawing a complete blank on the idea of gifting for his kids, and she started to feel anxious about it, and then she suddenly saw the ping pong paddle sets emblazoned with the words “Las Vegas” and concluded immediately they would be a perfect souvenir for them.

Precious & Alfonse in the Hotel Lobby

Later in the gilded hotel lobby, Precious and Alfonse each sat comfortably and somewhat formally in swiveling plush velveted club chairs, sipping margaritas and passing a travel tourism brochure back and forth amongst one another. An older, thin, heavily made up woman in a chartreuse sequin headdress had handed it to Precious earlier on Las Vegas Boulevard.

The rain from the late afternoon sky had briefly abated before again resuming, and traffic on the strip was a tangled and uncharacteristically slippery mess.

Although Precious carefully planned their leisure time on this, and the many vacations they took together, the couple still found the local, more impromptu possibilities intriguing. They were currently considering whether it might be worthwhile to attend “The Bunny Dolores Show.”

The heavy crystal goblet she held was faceted with images of tikki masks and encrusted with natural crystals. Precious’ coral nail fingertips left opaque impressions on the condensation on the stem of the very cold goblet as she took another long sip of her freezing, nearly colorless margarita.

“What if we find out if we can get on this Lake Mead tour last minute? We don’t have any plans for tomorrow morning.”

“We left the morning open in case we had too many margaritas and wanted to sleep in, isn’t that how you remember it, Precious? I think this one is already stronger than the last three I had at Firefly’s going away party. It’s not advisable to get in one of those tiny planes in that condition.”

“We’re in Las Vegas, Honeybear, it’s okay if we over indulge a little.”

“Agreed! We’ll take the tour next time. Let’s sleep late tomorrow and order room service.”

And, as Precious was carefully placing her heavy, condensation covered goblet back on the smoked glass cocktail table, the lights began to dim in the hotel lobby bar. The change of atmosphere was immediately apparent as there were no windows anywhere. Quiet darkness quickly and dramatically enveloped the space.

Before the blackout the well heeled crowd had basked in the light of several large overhead handmade chandeliers, as well as additional sconce lighting distributed along the walls of the chamber, underscoring the etched texture of the casino wall coverings.

The Alien

Hortense was not visible to the usual human eye. Some humans could see it though, it had deduced, displeased, one late night as its placid stroll through the dessert had been unceremoniously disturbed, soiled really, by a screaming earthling teenager who, apparently through some genetic mutation, was able to detect its nearly three story high presence as Hortense had been enjoying its vacation from its distant home.

The teenaged mutant human female had been with her earthling male companion of similar age and rotundness, who could not see Hortense, and a terse argument between the two had ensued.

To Be Continued

(Editor's Note: The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium is fiction)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II (Available December 20, 2023)

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium III (Available 2024)

🦃 Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 16 Oct 2023 11:19:00 +0000

https://linktr.ee/stanza28

Happy Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 10 Oct 2023 21:38:00 +0000

Happy Halloween! A tiny bit early 🎃

Please enjoy "Renwick The Exorcist" A Halloween Tale in 3 Parts:

Renwick is available for readers to freely enjoy on the s28 blog, now in its 18th year 🎃

and soon (details forthcoming at the appropriate time) look for Renwick, at your local bookstore 🎃

🐕 Protecting Puppy Noses 🐕

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 14 May 2023 13:14:00 +0000

Weekend salutations, all! While enjoying a lovely walk along the East River on a recent beautiful afternoon, a poisonous plant that had made its way along the river shore, and up to the concrete street level partition became apparent.

Protect your pupster’s nose, and yourself, from contracting contact dermatitis or other painful conditions.

Know a poisonous plant when you see one:

Your puppy's nose will thank you!

Poison IVY OAK SUMAC

DIY Hostess/Host Gift

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 11 Feb 2023 14:00:00 +0000

Giving A Cybersecurity Conference Swag Bag

New Life

Take that unused conference swag bag and transform it into a thoughtful special occasion hostess gift!

Utilize this simple process to create a gift for your favorite cook:

Supplies:

Hot Glue Gun

2 Extra Long Glue Sticks

18 x 14 x 4 Swag Bag

Hairpins

1/2 An Hour- 2 Hours Depending on Embellishments.

Optional:

Hook eye closure

Pockets

The Basic Plan:

Using a scissor, cut the bag vertically down its two sides. You should now be able to lay it flat. Trim to desired length, with a 1/4 or half inch seam allowance at the bottom. (You can stand in front of a mirror and use a hairpin to indicate the desired length on the now flat bag and cut across; a tape measure is not required.)

With the bag wrong side up and laid flat, use hairpins to outline a seam on each side and at the bottom hem. (Optional: Depending on the material of the swag bag, you can iron the seams into place). Using a glue gun, hem these three sides.

Take 2 equal sides of length from the unused side portion of the bag to cut two long rectangles. Pin these as if you were making fabric binding. (Fold in on each side, glue, fold again, glue. Make certain to leave a space in the middle that is not glued, this will make the adhesive more effective with some swag bag materials which may be coated).

Once each piece of binding is created, glue to each side- around where one’s ribcage is. You may desire to add a stitch or two.

That’s it! You’ve created a practical gift for your favorite cook.

Optional:

Neck Tie:

One of your swag bag handles becomes the loop that fits around the neck when this piece is utilized as an apron.

Depending on your time allotted for this activity, your skillset, and preference, you may: 1. Sever the handle so the wearer will tie it in the back 2. Not sever the handle and add a hook and eye closure to adjust the fit. You may use velcro, which is quick and easy, however you will not be able to put this item in with the rest of your laundry if you do, because it may snag the fabric of your other items.

Pocket:

Try on the apron in progress and use a hairpin to indicate where on the apron you think a pocket could be functional and aesthetically pleasing. To add one or two heart shaped patch pockets, create a paper pattern of a heart, use it to cut the desired amount of hearts from a fabric of your choosing, and affix the pockets with hot glue. Reinforce larger pockets with a few handstiches.

Utilize your glue gun to create an outline of the pocket, and paint the outline. (Here, a blue black enamel paint was used to paint the raised heart outline.)

Rooftop Like We Bringin' '88 Back 🎵

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 21 Nov 2022 20:01:00 +0000

I wanted to wish everyone a wonderful holiday week! YES, Thanksgiving is almost here, and that means whatever it means to each of us, with whatever we all may be feeling.

Historically, as a New Yorker, it would mean that I would party, with my wonderful friends, ideally while listening to VERY LOUD house music. Of course, that was a different time. To wit: I can illustrate with an anecdote about nitelife curation. Those who appreciate a good nitelife might agree, the best parties are the ones that not too many people know about. It should be what we used to call “HYPE” but not so much so that some complete outsider is going to show up and do something that ruins it for the rest of us.

How does one strike such a balance? Imagine this: 4 or five people cruising through the early NYC evening* probably in a car the 2022 me cannot afford. We are checking our beepers for text messages, because we each have friends who know someone, who knows someone, who is throwing some insane underground party, and we are enthusiastically comparing notes, trying to develop a plan of action for the later part of the evening and early dawn. One of us, the one driving, has one of those giant cellphones, and he uses it to call a phone booth, where there is a guy, in a silk, color blocked track suit and a lot of gold rings, who is giving out a password and the address of a good party, the kind we might deign to attend.

But when TrackSuit answers he sounds impaired, and keeps slurring his words, and we worry he is going to send us astray. Our guy driving, with the huge brick phone in his non steering wheel hand, waves it all off*, and calls 411. “Operator” “Yes, operator, do you know the address for *****… Oh, there’s no address listed for that. How about, did’ya try wit a different spelling? No… OPERATOR, I NEED this information. Never mind. YO, Operator? What’s slammin’ tonight?” She hangs up.

Snapshot of the late 80’s, early 90s, NEW YORK CITY. Before all the revelers had a camera in their pocket at all times… I think of what may have become of these old friends… they must love the internet.

Wherever you are my beautiful party people, be safe, have fun. Remember the time & DESIGNATE A DRIVER. 💋, MCC,ESQ.

*Pretty sure that this is frowned upon nowadays. They call it “idling” and you can get a fine for it.

*Pretty sure that this is frowned upon nowadays. Back then it was not a regulated activity to speak on the cell while driving.

🫶 Sending Love Florida! 🫶

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 02 Oct 2022 00:21:00 +0000

Sending Love Florida!

Are you sitting around, watching the Ian devastation on a screen and asking yourself, “What can I do to help!?”

After reviewing the social media feeds of persons in authority in Florida, and conducting a few searches, my independent assessment is to approach this from two perspectives:

For Floridians IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE, the Florida Division of Emergency Management shared this Tweet:

“If you or someone you know needs assistance or a safety check, please visit: http://Missing.fl.gov.”

https://twitter.com/FLSERT/status/1576211864081510402

For those seeking ways in which to assist, donations to established organizations are a preferred, time tested manner of rendering aid. Read on for links* which contain suggestions in that area, as well as additional opportunities to assist our beloved family and friends in Florida.

Links to articles listing places to make donations & additional resources:

https://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/weather/hurricane/fl-ne-hurricane-ian-how-to-help-20220929-fgop2u4kbferjkouy3276pgfwi-story.html

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2022/09/29/how-to-help-hurricane-ian/10460045002/

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/nation/how-to-help-victims-of-hurricane-ian-in-florida

*Donor and volunteer opportunities have not been independently vetted.

Happy Birthday, Baudrillard 🎂

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 27 Jul 2022 21:14:00 +0000

Birthday wishes are extended in honor of the noted late French philosopher, on what would have been his 93rd Birthday, from a time when the hyper real has, with certainty, taken on the significance Jean Baudrillard predicted.

Torta Isabella

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 18 Apr 2022 14:46:00 +0000

2 packs unflavored gelatin

1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk

1/2 cup semi sweet chocolate

1/4 cup coffee

1 tablespoon butter or margarine

2 tablespoons whole milk or heavy cream

21 danish butter cookies

1 round glass 11 inch baking dish

Cinnamon & Nutmeg to taste

Bring 2 cups of water to a boil. Empty the contents of 2 envelopes unflavored gelatin into your round glass baking dish, add boiling water & stir until gelatin is completely dissolved. Add can of condensed milk & stir until smooth & completely combined. Add coffee & stir until completely combined.

Arrange the danish butter cookies vertically along the circumference of the baking dish. Allow the cookies to absorb some of the liquid. Sprinkle nutmeg & cinnamon to taste. Refrigerate.

After about 30 minutes, with a spatula, rearrange any errant butter cookies so they are evenly lining the dessert dish; some will remain submerged in the baking dish. Continue to refrigerate for 2 more hours.

Using your preferred method (I used the microwave) melt 1/2 cup semisweet chocolate. Separately, melt 1 tablespoon butter or margarine. Pour the melted butter or margarine into the melted semisweet chocolate & combine until smooth. When fully combined, add cream or milk & continue to combine again until completely smooth.

Pour the chocolate in a circular motion, over the existing hardening dessert in the glass tray. Continue to refrigerate for an additional two hours.

Heeding an instinct for heritage this holiday season, this dessert I have devised is named in honor of my late grandmother. If your diet allows it, please enjoy it & happy holidays!

Cheers to 15+ Years!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 24 Feb 2022 22:30:00 +0000

Fifteen + years ago I devised a blog, “stanza28”. T'was born from an experimental desire to promote a pseudonymously published novel. Along the way I have been happy to actively solicit particular types of posts for the blog as well as to develop and receive blog post submissions from & with third parties.

With respect to my creative projects, "stanza28" has been in use for over two decades.

Since the novel’s first publication, a number of issues it addresses have come to prominence. Perhaps most importantly, the issue of police misconduct (the subject of my law school admission application essay, consciously dated on the birthday of a dear departed friend) has possibly finally achieved the due concern it merits.

Also finally getting its due is the decriminalization of marijuana, an issue on which I have been of the same mind as many highly regarded medical doctors and now, more than thirty of our United States.

The novel’s main character “Sal” is an homage to my best friend from childhood who died in his twenties. His name was Antonio. The character in the novel is so named to facilitate deliberation upon the idea of “savior” in Latin, as well as that of “salt” (sal is spanish for “salt”) the subject of “The Salt Prince” folklore.

Though I began writing the novel in my teens, it was alchemized and finally completed following an era of distress I experienced following Antonio’s death. Not one day has gone by in the more than twenty years since he left us that I have not reflected on what he might think about the current events of the day, or the popular music of the era or how we might have continued to share perspectives on our respective travels and favorite places of repast. His memory is the inveterate gauge by which I continue to benchmark morality, charisma, and character.

The Queens we shared and in which we grew up has been greatly transformed. Robert De Niro’s influence continues to be felt in our hometown. Recently, I am told, he is building an entire complex at the end of Steinway Street. When we were young adults Antonio had a small role in the crime drama film “A Bronx Tale” (which was De Niro’s directorial debut). The church in the background of that film is the school we attended together. In the days that film was being made, my childhood friends and I went about our young lives and curiously watched as our neighborhood was reshaped by antique cars and movie trailers. I was working at a music store and Antonio would visit me there between film takes. In order to extend some tribute to those experiences, around Thanksgiving 2020 a playlist was released on YouTube, featuring music referenced in the novel.

It may be accessed for enjoyment here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLh5fWlc3GnpOK9qSkO5bzgYWSqbRASwos .

The character in the novel “Sarena” is also an homage, to another of my oldest friends from childhood. She also distinguished herself, by appearing in “A Bronx Tale” as well as by going on to work at a super prestigious law firm in Manhattan. Out of courtesy for her and her family’s privacy, I do not identify her by her given name.

“Sal” and “Sarena” are fictional characters. The persons to whom they serve as an homage and I had, at times, extremely divergent views on the various topics addressed in the novel. We nevertheless loved each other dearly, and, until the iniquitous death, always showed up for each other.

In order to examine the events the novel considers, incidents, locations and quotes from “real life” were woven into the fictional piece of work. Literary folk call this "historical fiction" and its use is an excellent tool for teaching, generally speaking.

In 2021 the Supreme Court found for Google (Google LLC v. Oracle America, Inc., 593 US __ (2021).) in a years long litigation that considered “fair use”. Verisimilitude, so seminal to the process of devising narrative frameworks in fiction, is often the lens through which writers instinctively come to understand the concept of fair use.

At this time, of all of the legal spheres upon which the novel impinges, the fair use SCOTUS opinion is the disposition which fills me with the most optimism and confidence for our shared future.

To live in an age where sharing ones’ perspective is so accessible, is the subject of a great deal of gratitude, joy, and consternation, for many. Often I have endeavored to share, via the blog, my experiences practicing law, in order to help overcome skepticism that my literary and creative agenda was of a particularly radical or otherwise marginal nature. I have tried to maintain a tone that would be appropriate and credible for a 21st century teenager and I have tried to be a voice I wish I could have had when I was seventeen.

Thanks to everyone who ever read the novel or the blog. I hope you are being “edutained.” If you knew Antonio, I hope you remember him with as much love & laughter as I do.

Cheers to fifteen + years! XO,

Martha C. Chemas, Esq.

"Renwick The Exorcist" III

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 28 Oct 2021 04:00:00 +0000

Bonum Vir stood in front of Cleo’s residence. He was surprised and to be honest, a tiny bit annoyed that his significant other had not yet answered her door. They had plans, as well as extremely hard to get reservations for dinner and he did not want to be late. As Bonum took a few steps back from the door, he looked to the end of the street. As he used his phone to call Cleo again, he noticed smoke near the top of the hill, above the former Pound Pediatric Hospital & Research Center. Was that lot on fire again? Bonum Vir scrutinized the horizon more carefully but could not further identify anything out of the ordinary, until he observed a police car had come to a full stop, just a few feet from where Bonum Vir was standing, late model phone in his hand, tie around his neck, unaware of the very bad news which was about to be conveyed to him by the officer in the car.

Eyes narrowing, Bonum watched intently as the officer got out of the car, holding a phone. Bonum now had his phone on speaker, and it had been ringing but there had been no reply until that moment when he heard the sound that indicated Cleo’s phone answered his call. No one said anything.

Carefully, the officer, holding Cleo’s phone, took a step closer towards a confused Bonum, and addressed him: “Who were you trying to reach?”

Bonum Vir glared at the officer, with growing and uncharacteristic umbrage; “My girlfriend. What are you doing with her phone?”

“What is your name, son? You’ll be needing to come with me.”

“I’m Bonum Vir, I’m not your son, and what are you doing with my girlfriend’s phone?”

The officer sighed, mostly to himself, “This phone you’ve been calling was recently recovered at the site of the former Pound Pediatric Hospital & Research Center, where a fatal accident appears to have occurred this evening.”

Bonum had gone with the uniformed officer and identified the now late Dr. Cleo Mariniere. The authorities’ best guess was that Cleo had died of unexpected, but completely natural causes. Oddly, her nostrils and mouth had been slightly, faintly blackened with what might be soot; her remains reflected no signs of assault. There was no soot in Dr. Mariniere’s throat and there had been no indications of a large fire at the ruin. There was nothing that could burn there, anyway, all that was left of Pound was stone and dirt.

Bonum had driven back to Pound after departing the coroner, nearly in the middle of the night, to search for Renwick, and to personally confirm the details that had been relayed to him by the authorities. A portion of the area had been cordoned off.

Under the cast of the full moon, Bonum incredulously confirmed to himself there had been no large fire there recently. He surveyed the hillside with rancor; still no sign of the dog.

Several hours later Bonum Vir sat in his home office. The genetic genealogist had been crying into his hands, and now looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his home office over to the full moon glittering above the dawning metropolis.

As Bonum continued his gaze, his silk tie still around his carefully shaved neck, and what he had intended to be Cleo’s engagement ring still in his hip pocket, his adroit mind desolately recollected to that moment in time, just a few short hours ago, when the biggest problem he had, in this ever expanding world, was that his girlfriend was late for dinner.

Later that week, Bonum Vir shivered in the well lit mausoleum in continuing disbelief. Dr. Cleo Virginia Mariniere’s funeral had just concluded. Their plans, gone. Their future, vanished.

“Aren’t you that guy from the parking lot?”

“Bonum Vir. That’s right.” He collected his thoughts, self-consciously touching his face, recalling to that evening, and to the high pitched shriek that had emanated from a distance as he had happily walked hand in hand with Cleo. He studied Nurse Tusadera’s gloved hands. Bonum could see very long, pointy, dark burgundy fingernails beneath the sheerness of her black net and leather gloves; her scent hinted moribund. Involuntarily, Bonum shuddered.

Renwick ran as fast as he could, picking up improbable speed. As Renwick ran faster and yet even faster, the goldendoodle with kindly eyes, in a wide white collar, began to glitter and glow. His dog parts, to an onlooker, would have seemed to be alternating between disappearing and once again reappearing, and transforming to human parts. Renwick fully rematerialized as human. He stopped running. This was the part he had not yet fully mastered. Renwick now stood, again as a man, his personhood clothed and cloaked, and he found himself again just beyond the lobby of the Pound Pediatric Hospital & Research Center. Also again, the year was 1753, and it was the night of the fire in which Emily Ann Pound and her hospital playmates had most brutally and cruelly perished.

Father Renwick ventured only between these two worlds now. In the form of Father Renwick, the kindly and dedicated exorcist who had arrived at Pound versed of the evil with which he would spar, and in the form of a canine.

Further, as Renwick was about to perish in the fire that brutally incinerated Emily Ann Pound and her hospital playmates, just at the moment the flames were about to render him unconscious, Father Renwick, the he corporeal, would instead dematerialize, and as quickly reappear, in canine form, a goldendoodle, at the present day grounds of the former Pound Pediatric Hospital & Research Center, now a heap of ash and dejection. After this transformation Renwick was always exhausted.

Taking on canine form, in the present day, when he’d wandered to the doorstep of Dr. Mariniere, and allowed her to find him there, Renwick’s otherworldly instincts had led him to a potentially fearsome ally to the children of Pound.

However he did not have sufficient mastery over his form to have saved Cleo. It was agony for Renwick, who had successfully exorcised so many demons before arriving at Pound, to completely comprehend that he now had to recruit yet another human ally from the present day, in his continuing campaign to defeat The Nanti.

Renwick had not had any luck attempting to conduct his human allies into the past of that fiery evening, which by now he had gruesomely relived several times. Each time ended identically: about to be rendered unconscious by the rapidly engulfing flames, he found himself in the present day, in the form of a goldendoodle, wandering the ruins of the Pound Pediatric Hospital & Research Center.

Renwick thought back to the days when his body had been much younger. The higher ranked priests in his order, in lieu of an elevation in rank, had voted and agreed to issue Renwick a commendation, recognition for the strenuous work he had already performed saving the possessed souls of afflicted children near Salem, Masschussets, before his appointment to Pound. He was in no way inclined to suffer Emily Ann Pound and her playmates to fall subject to The Nanti’s demonic assaults and provocations.

Father Renwick had not been completely unsuccessful in his negotiations twixt his two worlds. That autumn evening, the first night Dr.Cleo Virginia Mariniere had fallen through to the afternoon of the fire, Renwick had been able to rescue her, carry her out, and even to take her to the front of her home, where he had originally allowed her to find him. His old stagecoach had materialized for assistance. Although Renwick had been able to spare Cleo that evening, he wasn’t certain why he’d been able to help her that way. Skies thundering in front of her home that night, he had rather suddenly, and not entirely consciously, taken on the form of the goldendoodle again, and had watched in amazement as the coach dematerialized into the evening. Cleo, with her back to the street, had been focused on opening the door and leading them inside, and thus had not seen it happen.

Perhaps, Renwick considered, it depended on the human he chose as an ally. Cleo had been particularly open to his suggestions and had on many occasions removed his leash, and otherwise complied with his unspoken requests to her.

As Father Renwick dejectedly considered past failures, he compassionately reminded himself of the many souls he had delivered from demons before he had ever arrived at Pound Pediatric Hospital & Research Center.

Renwick could only conclude that instead of trying to take his chosen human ally back to the night of the fire that brutally exterminated Emily Ann Pound and her playmates, he was instead to find some way to stop The Nanti in the present. Perhaps the past could not be changed no matter how much mastery Renwick attained over his shifting forms.

As night descended upon the Pound Ruins, Renwick as goldendoodle carefully crossed the road to the old neon lit gas station, where Bonum Vir conscientiously, yet dejectedly, filled the tires of his late model car with air.

“Where did you come from, fella? Been looking all over for you! Thought I’d never see you again, for certain. Why didn’t she chip you, Renwick?”

For the first time in the days since Cleo’s sudden demise, Bonum Vir genuinely smiled as he led the white collared goldendoodle to the back seat of his vehicle and shut the passenger door. Bonum Vir would take the dog home, give him a fragrant bubble bath, and try to sleep, for the first time in weeks.

Indefatiguedly curling up in the backseat of Bonum Vir’s coupe, Renwick’s kindly eyes blazed intensely, like the fires that had failed to consume him.

Across the road, at Croatoan Cemetery, a fisher watched jealously and howled viciously.

(Editor's note: Renwick The Exorcist is a fictional ghost story.)

🎃🎃🎃 Happy Halloween

stanza28™

"Congratulations 250 America" Playlist

🎂🇺🇸 🎇Happy 250th Birthday, America. 🎆🎂

“The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts” Part 3

"The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" Part 2

"The Christmas Kittens. A Winter Tale in 3 Parts" Part 1

🥳

Counting Down to 20 #3

Counting Down to 20 # 2

Counting Down to 20 # 1

🥧 Celebrating Pi Day 𝝅

🎉 Welcoming 2025 🎉

The Making of a GOAT Scarf

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium III

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium II

The Blackout at Fegefeuer's Emporium I

Happy Halloween

“Renwick The Exorcist” I

“Renwick The Exorcist” II

"Renwick The Exorcist" III

🐕 Protecting Puppy Noses 🐕

DIY Hostess/Host Gift

Rooftop Like We Bringin' '88 Back 🎵

🫶 Sending Love Florida! 🫶

Happy Birthday, Baudrillard 🎂

Torta Isabella

Cheers to 15+ Years!

"Renwick The Exorcist" III