[stylist] Danielle's story
loristay
loristay at aol.com
Thu Oct 14 16:45:21 UTC 2010
Hi, Danielle
To answer your question, I had to retrieve your story.
I don't want to rewrite it, but I'll give you a couple of examples of how to convert passive voice to active voice.
1) On the Battlefield that day in 1778, the battle cry rang out, and the sound of soldiers charging heralded the blood of fellow troops and enemies becoming one, soaking the earth from every wounded soldier lying upon it.
2) The sounds of guns and muskets shooting at anything and everything; mindless forces fighting as if they were soldiers themselves.
As you see, this does eliminate the use of the second person, the "You would have heard" part. It also makes it more immediate.
If you want to leave the "you," then you can bring it into the present tense: ...You hear the sound of charging feet... It's still immediate, but it's no longer passive.
I hope this idea is helpful. When I initially read the story, I did not know your age. You have a distinctive voice for a beginning writer. I'd hate to tell you what my writing was like when I was thirteen. Thanks for sharing this story.
Lori
On Oct 11, 2010, at 11:10:13 PM, "Danielle Montour" <dannivoiceangel333 at gmail.com> wrote:
From: "Danielle Montour" <dannivoiceangel333 at gmail.com>
Subject: Re: [stylist] stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 17
Date: October 11, 2010 11:10:13 PM EDT
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Hi
Here is my short story, Warrior. I know I have some things to
do, however, I'm going to fix them all at
once.
Enjoy
Danielle
Warrior
by Danielle Montour
If you were at the battlefield that day in 1778, you would
have heard a battle cry sound and soldiers charge, as the
blood of fellow troops and enemies become one, soaking the
earth, coming from every wounded soldier lying upon it. You
would have heard the guns and muskets shooting, shooting at
anything and everything; mindless forces fighting as if they
were soldiers themselves. Sensory soldiers alongside every
human soldier on the battlefield.
All men are fighting for everything they've ever lived for,
for everything their children will live for and pass down
generations to their grandchildren. You may have seen a
number of brave men killed that morning; the most violent
attack in several months directed toward the Boston. You
may have also seen a little girl, only at the tender age of
nine walking on to the field, in search of something.
What she was in search of, no one had a clue. She dodged
the guns and muskets for a while, as they all whizzed
dangerously close by her. The girl's eyes seemed to be
blindly searching for something but seeing nothing. You may
have seen her lean forward, towards the sound of a man's
voice. It seemed to be familiar to er, as if she had known
for a long time. She started walking slowly towards the
voice barely avoiding being hit by bullets and soldiers
alike as they seemed to be flung from their steeds.
As she came closer, it seemed that her streaks of not being
shot by something seemed to end, and with a sickening crack
and a trilling scream, the girl fell to the blood soaked
earth and gave way to unconsciousness.
You would see her body fighting for its life, trying to
breathe, trying to keep her heart beating. You would see
that now the man who she seemed to have been trying to find
dropped his gun and made a headlong dash for the girl. He
lifted her from the earth as a soldier took aim for one of
the strongest fighters on the field and the girl in his
arms. The shot made a sickening passage into his neck.
He tried to run, tried protect this young girl in his arms.
Tried to protect her every being. He ran, lurched tripped
toward the tents where he could lay her down and make sure
she was safe.
As he got to the tents, he collapsed with the precious girl
in his arms, and slipped into a deep coma.
The wounds took a toll on both of them; in the coming days
both almost slipped into the black of death. However, the
girl's wounds were not as bad as the man's. She awoke first
to see her father in a deep, unaware sleep.
The girl drifted in and out of sleep, and if you were there,
you would see her waiting, just waiting for the man to
awaken.
Epilogue
A few days later, the man began to stir. His body became
more aware, and he was gradually brought back to stable
health. After approximately four years when he could talk,
the girl went and visited him in the hospital. You would
have heard her say, "You saved me, Daddy. You saved me."
He was soon released from the hospital and remembered by all
of the nurses to tell the most tickling stories about his
children, especially his daughter, you know...' the girl he
saved.
----- Original Message -----
From: Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com
To: writers division <stylist at nfbnet.org
Date sent: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 21:15:37 -0500
Subject: Re: [stylist] stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 17
I know how to download attachments from Hotmail, but for some
reason when there are attachments on Stylist, Hotmail does not
recognize them. The email does not say it has an attachment, nor
are there any links within the email for the attachment. Either
something is screwy, or Hotmail, for some reason, is blocking the
attachments.
Danielle,
I would love to read your story so if it isn't a problem, I would
appreciate it if you could paste it into an email, or perhaps if
you email me directly with the attachment, it would work.
Bridgit
From: stylist-request at nfbnet.org
Subject: stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 17
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 15:43:46 -0500
Send stylist mailing list submissions to
stylist at nfbnet.org
To subscribe or unsubscribe via the World Wide Web, visit
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
or, via email, send a message with subject or body 'help' to
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You can reach the person managing the list at
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When replying, please edit your Subject line so it is more
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than "Re: Contents of stylist digest..."
Today's Topics:
1. Trying to retrieve attachment (Bridgit Pollpeter)
2. Re: Trying to retrieve attachment (Danielle Montour)
3. Re: Sense of murder (James H. "Jim" Canaday M.A. N6YR)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----
Message: 1
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 14:44:56 -0500
From: Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] Trying to retrieve attachment
Message-ID: <BLU0-SMTP20550672354DDDADC2C792AC4530 at phx.gbl
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
Hey guys,
How can I retrieve Daniele's attachment? It does not show up on
my
email as an attachment. There is no download link or anything
similar.
Again, I'm the stupid one with technology! *smile*
Bridgit
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of stylist-request at nfbnet.org
Sent: Monday, October 11, 2010 12:00 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 16
Send stylist mailing list submissions to
stylist at nfbnet.org
To subscribe or unsubscribe via the World Wide Web, visit
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
or, via email, send a message with subject or body 'help' to
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You can reach the person managing the list at
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When replying, please edit your Subject line so it is more
specific than
"Re: Contents of stylist digest..."
Today's Topics:
1. Re: Essential Office Tools (Jewel S.)
2. Re: Essential Office Tools (Jewel S.)
3. Re: Essential Office Tools (BDM)
4. Re: Essential Office Tools (Robert Leslie Newman)
5. Short story: warrior (Danielle Montour)
6. Re: Short story: warrior (Joe Orozco)
7. Re: Short story: warrior (Chris Kuell)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----
Message: 1
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:08:28 -0400
From: "Jewel S." <herekittykat2 at gmail.com
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID:
<AANLkTi=WvOJAYn=4EweVndQWJVo5qXAmd6PZSmS65uch at mail.gmail.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
One thing. If you're looking for a fully accessible computer
planner
and/or alarm clock, do a Google search for DaybyDay Planning
Calendar.
This calendar costs about $40 (and you can put it on two
computers),
allows for multiple users, has an address book and reminder
alerts
(alarms), goes from I think 400 A.D. (<_< Yes, I checked...I
wanted to
know!) to past 2400 (that's as far in the future as I went, but
it kept
going!). So, this calendar could also be sued by historians to
keep
track of a timeline, or for a history student to do the same.
In the
present time, it is very useful too! You use very basic hotkeys
(CTRL+A
is to add a note, CTRL+D is to go to the Delete menu options,
etc). You
can move by day, week, month, or year, so for example, I wanted
to put
in birthdays, and I put them in for 2010, then moved by year and
added
them each year for like 10 years! I'm not going to have to worry
about
not knowing when birthdays are for a whole decade now!
This program is usable with Windows (I don't know about Mac).
It is
compatible with JAWS and WindowEyes (I think that's what the
other one
is called?). It is also partially compatible with NVDA (the
address book
edit fields don't tell you what each one is for, and you have to
tab
onto the date to read it, but otherwise, I've not seen any
problems
using DaybyDay with NVDA, and I do it every day). This planning
calendar
is amazing and fully accessible, having been designed by a
totally
blind programmer. I definitely recommend it!
The same programmer (just look on the website for DaybyDay) has
other
programs, including a clock program that is fully accessible
(since it's
made by th e same totally blind programmer). It can do alarms
(I don't
know what the limit is, it's too large...I tried, and didn't
reach the
limit!), and has a really cool feature that I loved when I
wasn't at my
computer (it's too loud when I am at the computer). You can set
it to
speak the time, yes, but I much prefer the Big Ben choice. On
the hour,
it does the full song and a chime per hour (1:00, 1 chime, and
so on).
You can tell it if you want it to go off on the half hour and
quarter
hours or not, also. It can do a short chime on the quarter
hours, and a
longer chime on the half hour, but you can turn these off if you
don't
want them. I have found that a grandfather clock on my computer
reminding me of the time while I'm reading is great, because
then I
notice, hey it's 7pm, time to get dinner ready or such like
that.
other office tools I find essential.
-A handheld massager from Bookstone. This little vibrator is
very
compact, easy to stick in a desk drawer and very light. It runs
on two
double-A batteries, and has a single setting. Because my
muscles are so
sensitive, this single setting is perfect for me, as it has a
light
touch. It works great when you sat at the computer too long and
strained
your neck. The curvature of the device means it will even sit
on your
shoulder if you place it right, and work hands-free, so you can
keep
working! -An index card box. It's a little box made of plastic
with a
flap that snaps down (some nicer ones have a zipper or a snap
latch). I
keep a stylus in there with the index cars and a Jannus (sp?)
slate
nearby. If I need to take a note (someone's address, phone
number, where
so-and-so left my papers, or what this book sitting in front of
me is
that I need to scan). I write up the note, and the notes for
the book
get put on with tape or a paperclip (hardback versus paperback),
and the
addresses, phone numbers, and little notes like that can go in
an open
box on the desk to be sorted at the end of the day. An
important
notecard could be taped to the bottom of the keyboard at the
frong,
where it'll stick out and I'll touch it every time I type.
Another
location for notes like this is hanging from the underside of
the desk
at the frong. Every time you sit down, you're likely to brush
against
them. No more out of sight, out of mind to worry about! -My
desk doesn't
have a drawer for stuff, just for the computer, so I have a
fabric box
on the top of my desk for stuff (a nice looking one from Ikea).
It holds
tape dispenser, paperclip jar, rubber band jar, scissors,
hole-puncher
(one- and three-hole), , slate (the regular size one, not the
Jannus
slate, since the Jannus stays out for quick grab), a jar with
extra
styli (you never know!), extra packets of index cards, stamps, a
few
pens and pencils and a highlighter for other people to use,
twist ties
for cords and cables, Krammer abacus, talking calculator, and a
few
other items I can't remember...oh yea, gum! Gotta have gum.
Then, when I need something, I just stick my hand in, feel
around for
the right shape and grab. Everything's a different shape and
texture, so
I can grab quickly. -Bumpdots and circle felt stickers. I have
found
these to be essential, not just for labelling. If I'm reading a
Braille
document and I want to 'highlight' something, I put a small
circle felt
dot sticker right before the beginning and end of what I want
highlighted. if I'm reading a magazine that I know I won't read
all the
articles in (say , for example, PC World [which I don't get]), I
can put
a felt circle or small bumpdot next to the articles in the table
of
contents that I want to come back to and read).
That's all I can think of for now...
On 10/10/10, BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com> wrote:
Joe,
These are my few essential items:
1. File Management: I'm not afraid to create folders on my
computer,
and try to maintain them in a very organized manner. . I find
the
need to clean house once and a while when in a hurry creating
and
though it takes a little time, I take it.
2. Digital Recorder: A super help is a digital recorder, my
electronic
brain, my notepad of sourts. I have two of these. One cheaper
one I
bought for like $40 which is an Olympus model and is easy to use
with
no speech menus. I use it to keep numbers on the fly, notes
about my
business on the fly, I use it like an inventory sheet in my
business
marking down what I need where, I use it for anything I don't
wish to
forget or need to mark down in a hurry. I'll use it to mark
down song
titles, lines, melodies, etc. as well on the fly. The other
one I have
is a more expensive Olympus one that records in WAV format if
you
wish. I use it as both a computer microphone at times as well
to note
songs I'm working on, record conferences, live song evaluations,
and
etc. I couldn't live without one these days. A note that if
you have
a Victor Stream you can also use it for audio recorded notes
too. I've
also used the Stream to serve as note promptors when doing a
class on
songwriting. I made a txt file of my notes and put it on the
Stream
and covertly used a ear bud as a promptor. I similarly use my
digital
recorder as my set list promptor on long gigs of two hours or
more.
Everyone thinks its a sound system ear monitor :).
3. Day Timer: Probably one of my biggest things is my day
timer.
Anytime I need to be reminded of something, an appointment, a
special
day or To Do item, I'll enter it in there, have it remind me
ahead of
time and even send me an email as well pop an alert on my
screen. It
keeps my contacts, notes and details for my address book or To
Do
items and everything else. It has calendar, address book,
expense
view, glances or views by day, week, month, year and other
stuff, some
not accessible but I don't use them anyway so that's cool. The
program is one that use to be supported by Jaws, no longer
formally is
but it still works if you have the old scripts. It is Anytime
Organizer. I will say the latest version I had tried, version
13, did
not agree with my system and I am running version 12 which works
great
and I will probably not change unless major tweaks are made from
my
version. Though I've found their customer service to be
atrocious, I
still love the program and it is one of which that has kept me
from
converting to a Mac, which I am yet seriously considering. I
just need
to find a Mac anser to this and be open minded to a different,
yet
free screen reader :). I also occasionally use a free and
fairly
accessible program called Alarm Clock By Terry. It serves as a
countdown timer as well an alarm clock on board. It is pretty
accessible. I looked forever to find one that wasn't totally
graphical
and it wasnt' easy. This one has a couple buttons not labeled
but
other than that its fine.
4. Braille Tags: I am not a big Braille reader, I have trouble
falling
asleep trying to read it for any length of time , but I do use
it
around the office. I use old business cards I have and make
notes to
print papered items if I just need to file or otherwise deal
with
them.
5. Clips: One last thing I'll mention since I use to use this
and it
worked great the way I was running my business/office then. I
bought
some of those paper clips that from a profile view are shaped
like a
triangle and have two foldable wire handles on them. You can
afix
Braille dymo tape numbers to them. I'd have my reader go
through and
read a certain mail item or papered item on to a digital
recorder
starting off "Item #1:" and proceed to read it. This way I
could go
and file or attend to it later when I had time and not pay
someone to
do that for me.
Hope that helps.
Brad
At 09:16 AM 10/10/2010, Joe Orozco wrote:
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools for
writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep notepads,
paper
files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep things
organized and spread
out through their office. Last year when I switched jobs and
took one
where
I have the luxury of working from home, I was a little pleased
and
somewhat
disappointed to realize that the two main information storage
devices
I
needed was a laptop and an external hard drive. I recently
invested
in an
embosser for those times when I'd like to be able to read hard
copy,
but I
somehow don't see pasting Braille stickies on a board as all that
productive, out of sight is out of mind and so forth. The
trouble
with
working primarily from home is that the work is always there.
Similarly,
working out of a single laptop makes it seem as though my work
has
never
really disappeared after 6:00 PM. I suppose I should accepted
when my
office tried to buy me a Mac. It's not too late, but I'm not
ready to
explore a new operating system. So what do you use to keep
things
compartmentalized and organized in your office? Any tips and
tricks
would
be appreciated. I'm reading this time-management book and want
to see
if
there's a different way of arranging my information to boost
general
productivity. Thanks much in advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam Ewing
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
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bradd
unsemusic.com
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Check out my blog at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
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<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
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%40gmail.com
--
~Jewel
Check out my blog about accessibility for the blind!
Treasure Chest for the Blind:
http://blindtreasurechest.blogspot.com
------------------------------
Message: 2
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:08:59 -0400
From: "Jewel S." <herekittykat2 at gmail.com
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID:
<AANLkTik6zXXXjKXkLgcsJ_BrLwcg=Twp9=HNo5kAjY_8 at mail.gmail.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
On 10/10/10, BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com> wrote:
Joe,
These are my few essential items:
1. File Management: I'm not afraid to create folders on my
computer,
and try to maintain them in a very organized manner. . I find
the
need to clean house once and a while when in a hurry creating
and
though it takes a little time, I take it.
2. Digital Recorder: A super help is a digital recorder, my
electronic
brain, my notepad of sourts. I have two of these. One cheaper
one I
bought for like $40 which is an Olympus model and is easy to use
with
no speech menus. I use it to keep numbers on the fly, notes
about my
business on the fly, I use it like an inventory sheet in my
business
marking down what I need where, I use it for anything I don't
wish to
forget or need to mark down in a hurry. I'll use it to mark
down song
titles, lines, melodies, etc. as well on the fly. The other
one I have
is a more expensive Olympus one that records in WAV format if
you
wish. I use it as both a computer microphone at times as well
to note
songs I'm working on, record conferences, live song evaluations,
and
etc. I couldn't live without one these days. A note that if
you have
a Victor Stream you can also use it for audio recorded notes
too. I've
also used the Stream to serve as note promptors when doing a
class on
songwriting. I made a txt file of my notes and put it on the
Stream
and covertly used a ear bud as a promptor. I similarly use my
digital
recorder as my set list promptor on long gigs of two hours or
more.
Everyone thinks its a sound system ear monitor :).
3. Day Timer: Probably one of my biggest things is my day
timer.
Anytime I need to be reminded of something, an appointment, a
special
day or To Do item, I'll enter it in there, have it remind me
ahead of
time and even send me an email as well pop an alert on my
screen. It
keeps my contacts, notes and details for my address book or To
Do
items and everything else. It has calendar, address book,
expense
view, glances or views by day, week, month, year and other
stuff, some
not accessible but I don't use them anyway so that's cool. The
program is one that use to be supported by Jaws, no longer
formally is
but it still works if you have the old scripts. It is Anytime
Organizer. I will say the latest version I had tried, version
13, did
not agree with my system and I am running version 12 which works
great
and I will probably not change unless major tweaks are made from
my
version. Though I've found their customer service to be
atrocious, I
still love the program and it is one of which that has kept me
from
converting to a Mac, which I am yet seriously considering. I
just need
to find a Mac anser to this and be open minded to a different,
yet
free screen reader :). I also occasionally use a free and
fairly
accessible program called Alarm Clock By Terry. It serves as a
countdown timer as well an alarm clock on board. It is pretty
accessible. I looked forever to find one that wasn't totally
graphical
and it wasnt' easy. This one has a couple buttons not labeled
but
other than that its fine.
4. Braille Tags: I am not a big Braille reader, I have trouble
falling
asleep trying to read it for any length of time , but I do use
it
around the office. I use old business cards I have and make
notes to
print papered items if I just need to file or otherwise deal
with
them.
5. Clips: One last thing I'll mention since I use to use this
and it
worked great the way I was running my business/office then. I
bought
some of those paper clips that from a profile view are shaped
like a
triangle and have two foldable wire handles on them. You can
afix
Braille dymo tape numbers to them. I'd have my reader go
through and
read a certain mail item or papered item on to a digital
recorder
starting off "Item #1:" and proceed to read it. This way I
could go
and file or attend to it later when I had time and not pay
someone to
do that for me.
Hope that helps.
Brad
At 09:16 AM 10/10/2010, Joe Orozco wrote:
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools for
writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep notepads,
paper
files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep things
organized and spread
out through their office. Last year when I switched jobs and
took one
where
I have the luxury of working from home, I was a little pleased
and
somewhat
disappointed to realize that the two main information storage
devices
I
needed was a laptop and an external hard drive. I recently
invested
in an
embosser for those times when I'd like to be able to read hard
copy,
but I
somehow don't see pasting Braille stickies on a board as all that
productive, out of sight is out of mind and so forth. The
trouble
with
working primarily from home is that the work is always there.
Similarly,
working out of a single laptop makes it seem as though my work
has
never
really disappeared after 6:00 PM. I suppose I should accepted
when my
office tried to buy me a Mac. It's not too late, but I'm not
ready to
explore a new operating system. So what do you use to keep
things
compartmentalized and organized in your office? Any tips and
tricks
would
be appreciated. I'm reading this time-management book and want
to see
if
there's a different way of arranging my information to boost
general
productivity. Thanks much in advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam Ewing
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
stylist at nfbnet.org
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info
for
stylist:
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/lists%40
bradd
unsemusic.com
__________ Information from ESET Smart Security, version of virus
signature database 5518 (20101009) __________
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Brad Dunse
Check out my blog at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
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--
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Treasure Chest for the Blind:
http://blindtreasurechest.blogspot.com
------------------------------
Message: 3
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:15:11 -0500
From: BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com
To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID:
<6.2.3.4.2.20101010141350.02c0f170 at www.braddunsemusic.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"; format=flowed
Jewel,
I did a search but couldn't come up with anything by that name.
Do
you have the name of the person, or perhaps in the help menu
there's
a web address for the program
Thanks.
Brad
Brad
At 01:08 PM 10/10/2010, you wrote:
One thing. If you're looking for a fully accessible computer
planner
and/or alarm clock, do a Google search for DaybyDay Planning
Calendar.
This calendar costs about $40 (and you can put it on two
computers),
allows for multiple users, has an address book and reminder
alerts
(alarms), goes from I think 400 A.D. (<_< Yes, I checked...I
wanted to
know!) to past 2400 (that's as far in the future as I went, but
it kept
going!). So, this calendar could also be sued by historians to
keep
track of a timeline, or for a history student to do the same. In
the
present time, it is very useful too! You use very basic hotkeys
(CTRL+A
is to add a note, CTRL+D is to go to the Delete menu options,
etc). You
can move by day, week, month, or year, so for example, I wanted
to put
in birthdays, and I put them in for 2010, then moved by year and
added
them each year for like 10 years! I'm not going to have to worry
about
not knowing when birthdays are for a whole decade now!
This program is usable with Windows (I don't know about Mac). It
is
compatible with JAWS and WindowEyes (I think that's what the
other one
is called?). It is also partially compatible with NVDA (the
address
book edit fields don't tell you what each one is for, and you
have to
tab onto the date to read it, but otherwise, I've not seen any
problems
using DaybyDay with NVDA, and I do it every day). This planning
calendar is amazing and fully accessible, having been designed by
a
totally blind programmer. I definitely recommend it!
The same programmer (just look on the website for DaybyDay) has
other
programs, including a clock program that is fully accessible
(since
it's made by th e same totally blind programmer). It can do
alarms (I
don't know what the limit is, it's too large...I tried, and
didn't
reach the limit!), and has a really cool feature that I loved
when I
wasn't at my computer (it's too loud when I am at the computer).
You
can set it to speak the time, yes, but I much prefer the Big Ben
choice. On the hour, it does the full song and a chime per hour
(1:00,
1 chime, and so on). You can tell it if you want it to go off on
the
half hour and quarter hours or not, also. It can do a short
chime on
the quarter hours, and a longer chime on the half hour, but you
can
turn these off if you don't want them. I have found that a
grandfather
clock on my computer reminding me of the time while I'm reading
is
great, because then I notice, hey it's 7pm, time to get dinner
ready or
such like that.
other office tools I find essential.
-A handheld massager from Bookstone. This little vibrator is
very
compact, easy to stick in a desk drawer and very light. It runs
on two
double-A batteries, and has a single setting. Because my muscles
are so
sensitive, this single setting is perfect for me, as it has a
light
touch. It works great when you sat at the computer too long and
strained your neck. The curvature of the device means it will
even sit
on your shoulder if you place it right, and work hands-free, so
you can
keep working! -An index card box. It's a little box made of
plastic
with a flap that snaps down (some nicer ones have a zipper or a
snap
latch). I keep a stylus in there with the index cars and a
Jannus (sp?)
slate nearby. If I need to take a note (someone's address, phone
number, where so-and-so left my papers, or what this book sitting
in
front of me is that I need to scan). I write up the note, and
the notes
for the book get put on with tape or a paperclip (hardback versus
paperback), and the addresses, phone numbers, and little notes
like
that can go in an open box on the desk to be sorted at the end of
the
day. An important notecard could be taped to the bottom of the
keyboard
at the frong, where it'll stick out and I'll touch it every time
I
type. Another location for notes like this is hanging from the
underside of the desk at the frong. Every time you sit down,
you're
likely to brush against them. No more out of sight, out of mind
to
worry about! -My desk doesn't have a drawer for stuff, just for
the
computer, so I have a fabric box on the top of my desk for stuff
(a
nice looking one from Ikea). It holds tape dispenser, paperclip
jar,
rubber band jar, scissors, hole-puncher (one- and three-hole), ,
slate
(the regular size one, not the Jannus slate, since the Jannus
stays out
for quick grab), a jar with extra styli (you never know!), extra
packets of index cards, stamps, a few pens and pencils and a
highlighter for other people to use, twist ties for cords and
cables,
Krammer abacus, talking calculator, and a few other items I can't
remember...oh yea, gum! Gotta have gum.
Then, when I need something, I just stick my hand in, feel around
for
the right shape and grab. Everything's a different shape and
texture,
so I can grab quickly. -Bumpdots and circle felt stickers. I
have found
these to be essential, not just for labelling. If I'm reading a
Braille
document and I want to 'highlight' something, I put a small
circle felt
dot sticker right before the beginning and end of what I want
highlighted. if I'm reading a magazine that I know I won't read
all the
articles in (say , for example, PC World [which I don't get]), I
can
put a felt circle or small bumpdot next to the articles in the
table of
contents that I want to come back to and read).
That's all I can think of for now...
On 10/10/10, BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com> wrote:
Joe,
These are my few essential items:
1. File Management: I'm not afraid to create folders on my
computer,
and try to maintain them in a very organized manner. . I find
the
need to clean house once and a while when in a hurry creating
and
though it takes a little time, I take it.
2. Digital Recorder: A super help is a digital recorder, my
electronic brain, my notepad of sourts. I have two of these.
One
cheaper one I bought for like $40 which is an Olympus model and
is
easy to use with no speech menus. I use it to keep numbers on
the
fly, notes about my business on the fly, I use it like an
inventory
sheet in my business marking down what I need where, I use it
for
anything I don't wish to forget or need to mark down in a hurry.
I'll use it to mark down song titles, lines, melodies, etc. as
well
on the fly. The other one I have is a more expensive Olympus
one
that records in WAV format if you wish. I use it as both a
computer
microphone at times as well to note songs I'm working on, record
conferences, live song evaluations, and etc. I couldn't live
without one these days. A note that if you have a Victor Stream
you
can also use it for audio recorded notes too. I've also used
the
Stream to serve as note promptors when doing a class on
songwriting.
I made a txt file of my notes and put it on the Stream and
covertly
used a ear bud as a promptor. I similarly use my digital
recorder as
my set list promptor on long gigs of two hours or more.
Everyone
thinks its a sound system ear monitor :).
3. Day Timer: Probably one of my biggest things is my day
timer.
Anytime I need to be reminded of something, an appointment, a
special day or To Do item, I'll enter it in there, have it
remind me
ahead of time and even send me an email as well pop an alert on
my
screen. It keeps my contacts, notes and details for my address
book
or To Do items and everything else. It has calendar, address
book,
expense view, glances or views by day, week, month, year and
other
stuff, some not accessible but I don't use them anyway so that's
cool. The program is one that use to be supported by Jaws, no
longer formally is but it still works if you have the old
scripts.
It is Anytime Organizer. I will say the latest version I had
tried,
version 13, did not agree with my system and I am running
version 12
which works great and I will probably not change unless major
tweaks
are made from my version. Though I've found their customer
service
to be atrocious, I still love the program and it is one of which
that has kept me from converting to a Mac, which I am yet
seriously
considering. I just need to find a Mac anser to this and be
open
minded to a different, yet free screen reader :). I also
occasionally use a free and fairly accessible program called
Alarm
Clock By Terry. It serves as a countdown timer as well an alarm
clock on board. It is pretty accessible. I looked forever to
find
one that wasn't totally graphical and it wasnt' easy. This one
has a
couple buttons not labeled but other than that its fine.
4. Braille Tags: I am not a big Braille reader, I have trouble
falling asleep trying to read it for any length of time , but I
do
use it around the office. I use old business cards I have and
make
notes to print papered items if I just need to file or otherwise
deal with them.
5. Clips: One last thing I'll mention since I use to use this
and it
worked great the way I was running my business/office then. I
bought
some of those paper clips that from a profile view are shaped
like
a triangle and have two foldable wire handles on them. You can
afix
Braille dymo tape numbers to them. I'd have my reader go
through and
read a certain mail item or papered item on to a digital
recorder
starting off "Item #1:" and proceed to read it. This way I
could go
and file or attend to it later when I had time and not pay
someone
to do that for me.
Hope that helps.
Brad
At 09:16 AM 10/10/2010, Joe Orozco wrote:
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools
for writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep
notepads,
paper files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep
things organized and spread
out through their office. Last year when I switched jobs and
took
one
where
I have the luxury of working from home, I was a little pleased
and
somewhat
disappointed to realize that the two main information storage
devices I
needed was a laptop and an external hard drive. I recently
invested
in an
embosser for those times when I'd like to be able to read hard
copy,
but I
somehow don't see pasting Braille stickies on a board as all that
productive, out of sight is out of mind and so forth. The
trouble
with
working primarily from home is that the work is always there.
Similarly,
working out of a single laptop makes it seem as though my work
has
never
really disappeared after 6:00 PM. I suppose I should accepted
when
my
office tried to buy me a Mac. It's not too late, but I'm not
ready
to
explore a new operating system. So what do you use to keep
things
compartmentalized and organized in your office? Any tips and
tricks
would
be appreciated. I'm reading this time-management book and want
to
see if
there's a different way of arranging my information to boost
general
productivity. Thanks much in advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam Ewing
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
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b
raddunsemusic.com
__________ Information from ESET Smart Security, version of virus
signature database 5518 (20101009) __________
The message was checked by ESET Smart Security.
http://www.eset.com
Brad Dunse
Check out my blog at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
E Mail: brad at braddunsemusic.com
Website: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1464323555
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/braddunse
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
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http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
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info
for
stylist:
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ykat2
%40gmail.com
--
~Jewel
Check out my blog about accessibility for the blind!
Treasure Chest for the Blind:
http://blindtreasurechest.blogspot.com
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site:
http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
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for
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braddu
nsemusic.com
__________ Information from ESET Smart Security, version of virus
signature database 5518 (20101009) __________
The message was checked by ESET Smart Security.
http://www.eset.com
Brad Dunse
The greatest composer does not sit down to work because he is
inspired,
but becomes inspired because he is working
E Mail: brad at braddunsemusic.com
Website: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1464323555
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------------------------------
Message: 4
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:23:17 -0500
From: "Robert Leslie Newman" <newmanrl at cox.net
To: <jsorozco at gmail.com>, "'Writer's Division Mailing List'"
<stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID: <008e01cb68b0$979ea340$c6dbe9c0$@cox.net
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
Joe and others- To keep something in my face, a "to do list," I
use 3 by
5 cards and Braille a single task on each one. I have an old
fashion
spike that I poke them down onto.
I also to remind me, I use the calendar in Outlook and sometimes
Tasks,
which is found within Windows.
IN working up a draft of a new article, writing project, I'll
often
start it in my PAC Mate or net book, then polish it in the
desktop. I
always do my last editing on the Braille display (there is where
you can
see your words as they appear within a sentence, you can make
sure of
what is capitalized or not, what the punctuation looks like, the
formatting can be checked out.
I've also used my Victor Stream as a recorder too capture my
thoughts as
I run; I carry it in my hand and hold it up to my mouth when I
feel the
words a flowing.
And soon, I will be retired and I'm thinking that I'll be doing
even more organizing and pushing the technology, both hard and
soft.
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Joe Orozco
Sent: Sunday, October 10, 2010 9:17 AM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools for
writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep notepads,
paper
files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep things
organized
and spread out through their office. Last year when I switched
jobs and
took one where I have the luxury of working from home, I was a
little
pleased and somewhat disappointed to realize that the two main
information storage devices I needed was a laptop and an
external hard
drive. I recently invested in an embosser for those times when
I'd like
to be able to read hard copy, but I somehow don't see pasting
Braille
stickies on a board as all that productive, out of sight is out
of mind
and so forth. The trouble with working primarily from home is
that the
work is always there. Similarly, working out of a single laptop
makes
it seem as though my work has never really disappeared after
6:00 PM. I
suppose I should accepted when my office tried to buy me a Mac.
It's
not too late, but I'm not ready to explore a new operating
system. So
what do you use to keep things compartmentalized and organized
in your
office? Any tips and tricks would be appreciated. I'm reading
this
time-management book and want to see if there's a different way
of
arranging my information to boost general productivity. Thanks
much in
advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up
their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam
Ewing
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site:
http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
stylist at nfbnet.org
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account
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%40cox.
net
------------------------------
Message: 5
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 20:52:47 -0400
From: Danielle Montour <dannivoiceangel333 at gmail.com
To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Message-ID: <4cb25fee.8482e50a.1d89.ffffa6eb at mx.google.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1"; Format="flowed"
Hi,
I wrote this story two years ago when I was 11, and I want to
improve it. I still want to keep it a short story, I just want
to make it better. Could anyone help me with this? Also, if I'm
not supposed to send attachments to this list, I'm sorry. I
never heard I couldn't, so I'm assuming that it's ok.
Danielle
-------------- next part --------------
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Size: 3494 bytes
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/76a706bd/attachment-0001.obj
------------------------------
Message: 6
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 08:26:22 -0400
From: "Joe Orozco" <jsorozco at gmail.com
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Message-ID: <E380573AD34E4279A14CC35AE2951C4D at Rufus
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII"
Danielle,
Excellent writing for an eleven-year-old. It seems you sent us
a
portion of the story? I would give some more information about
the
girl, perhaps more clues about why she was on the battlefield
and at
least a hint of what she might've been looking for. I think she
may've
been looking for her father, given how the story ended, but the
guy
picking her up seems like a random act until we discover later
that he's
in fact her father. The setting leads me to believe we're
talking about
an earlier time given the choice of horses and weapons.
Finally, the
reason I asked if this might be a portion is because of the
epilogue.
Is this perhaps a novel you started? Great job so far. Keep it
up.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up
their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam
Ewing
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Danielle
Montour
Sent: Sunday, October 10, 2010 8:53 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Hi,
I wrote this story two years ago when I was 11, and I want to
improve it. I still want to keep it a short story, I just want
to make it better. Could anyone help me with this? Also, if I'm
not supposed to send attachments to this list, I'm sorry. I
never heard I couldn't, so I'm assuming that it's ok.
Danielle
------------------------------
Message: 7
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 10:00:24 -0400
From: "Chris Kuell" <ckuell at comcast.net
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Message-ID: <A9D4F0F926FD45AFA59399A2D4A6B820 at ChrisPC
Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed; charset="iso-8859-1";
reply-type=original
Hi Danielle,
Thanks for sharing your story with us. You write very well, and
personally,
I don't think this story needs a lot of work. Below I'll make
some
general
comments for you to consider.
Firstly, I commend you for writing in the second person. Hardly
any
books or
stories are written in this point of view, as it's hard to do
and hold
the
reader's attention. Since your story is pretty short, and
exciting, you
managed to hold my attention the whole way through.
If you were at the battlefield that day, you would've heard a
battle
cry... - Your writing has a formal voice, so I would recommend
not using
the
contraction, 'would've' and go with 'would have' instead.
You would hear the guns and muskets... - Since you are telling
your
story in
the past tense, you need to keep that consistent. So this
should read
'you
would have heard...
Soldiers alongside every human soldier on the battlefield.- I
get what
you
mean here, that the guns and sounds are like soldiers
themselves, but
still,
I found this sentence a little awkward. Perhaps Sensory
soldiers
alongside...? Or maybe, The war itself a soldier alongside...?
All men are fighting for everything they've lived for, and for
everything
their children will live for and pass down generations to their
grandchildren.- this sentence is a little clunky, and I think
'generations'
is the problem--you don't really need it. If you want to keep
it,
consider :
All men are fighting for everything they've ever lived for, for
everything
their children and grandchildren will live for and pass down
through the
generations .
Readers will likely be interested in when your story takes
place. Horses
and
guns and the United States makes me think of civil or
revolutionary war,
but
since it's an attack on the US, I'd say it must be the
revolutionary
war--although in that war there weren't really attacks on
America, as
America didn't exist yet and was merely a colony. The colony
was under
attack by England and the Hessian soldiers the Brits paid to
fight for
them.
There were attacks on Boston, on Manhattan, on various forts,
etc... and
you
might want to clarify this. A simple red coat or British flag
would
help, as
would a short (3 to 5 words) description of what the little girl
was
wearing.
Good fiction is a balance between character, plot and setting.
I'd like
to
see you add just a touch of setting to help ground the reader in
the
place
and time of your story.
It seemed to be familiar to er, as if she had known for a long
time.-
this
sentence is incomplete, you need to tell us what she knew for a
long
time.
We can infer it was the voice, but we can't be sure. Consider :
It drew
her
in, a familiar, gruff baritone , long distant in her memory -
something
like
that.
Watch out for the word 'seemed', which you use quite often, and
should
try
to avoid. Fiction writers need to be firm and concrete. For
example:
Danielle took a bite of toast. Or, Danielle seemed to take a
bite of
what
seemed to be toast.This isn't the best example, but the second
sentence
is
wordy and less definitive.
(consider a sentence where the soldier drops to one knee after
being
shot,
maybe touches the wound in his neck, grits his teeth, gets up
and keeps
going) He tried to run, tried (to) protect this young girl in
his
arms.
Tried to protect her every being (this sentence says pretty much
the
same
thing as the previous one, so either delete it or change it to
make it
different). He ran, lurched (and) tripped toward the tents
where he
could
lay her down and make sure she was safe.
Stories this short don't usually have epilogues. Those are
generally for
novels or 'longer' short stories. Some writers will separate
sections of
text by using asterisks * * *, but in this case, I don't think
you
really
need that. You could simply start your next paragraph as you
do, and it
will
become apparent to the reader that time has passed. I'd also
recommend
deleting 'approximately'. Again, fiction writers need to be
concrete,
not
wishy-washy. Say, Four years later..., or Four years and two
months
later...
which make the story more real to your readers.
Finally, I'm not sure why you ended with a question mark. I'd
go with a
period.
Nice job, and thanks again for letting us read your work.
chris
------------------------------
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stylist mailing list
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End of stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 16
***************************************
------------------------------
Message: 2
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 16:09:21 -0400
From: Danielle Montour <dannivoiceangel333 at gmail.com
To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Trying to retrieve attachment
Message-ID: <4cb36f01.896ae50a.4ee8.2d11 at mx.google.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1; format=flowed
Hi Bridgit,
If you want, I can paste the attachment into an Email. However,
above the Email text, there should be a place where it shows the
attachments and download links. I have a hotmail as well. I
can
just paste it into another Email if that doesn't work. You can
contact me if you want to retrieve it like that.
HTH
Danielle
----- Original Message -----
From: Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org
Date sent: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 14:44:56 -0500
Subject: [stylist] Trying to retrieve attachment
Hey guys,
How can I retrieve Daniele's attachment? It does not show up on
my
email as an attachment. There is no download link or anything
similar.
Again, I'm the stupid one with technology! *smile*
Bridgit
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of stylist-request at nfbnet.org
Sent: Monday, October 11, 2010 12:00 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 16
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"Re: Contents of stylist digest..."
Today's Topics:
1. Re: Essential Office Tools (Jewel S.)
2. Re: Essential Office Tools (Jewel S.)
3. Re: Essential Office Tools (BDM)
4. Re: Essential Office Tools (Robert Leslie Newman)
5. Short story: warrior (Danielle Montour)
6. Re: Short story: warrior (Joe Orozco)
7. Re: Short story: warrior (Chris Kuell)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----
Message: 1
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:08:28 -0400
From: "Jewel S." <herekittykat2 at gmail.com
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID:
<AANLkTi=WvOJAYn=4EweVndQWJVo5qXAmd6PZSmS65uch at mail.gmail.co
m
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
One thing. If you're looking for a fully accessible computer
planner
and/or alarm clock, do a Google search for DaybyDay Planning
Calendar.
This calendar costs about $40 (and you can put it on two
computers),
allows for multiple users, has an address book and reminder
alerts
(alarms), goes from I think 400 A.D. (<_< Yes, I checked...I
wanted to
know!) to past 2400 (that's as far in the future as I went, but
it kept
going!). So, this calendar could also be sued by historians to
keep
track of a timeline, or for a history student to do the same.
In
the
present time, it is very useful too! You use very basic hotkeys
(CTRL+A
is to add a note, CTRL+D is to go to the Delete menu options,
etc). You
can move by day, week, month, or year, so for example, I wanted
to put
in birthdays, and I put them in for 2010, then moved by year and
added
them each year for like 10 years! I'm not going to have to worry
about
not knowing when birthdays are for a whole decade now!
This program is usable with Windows (I don't know about Mac).
It
is
compatible with JAWS and WindowEyes (I think that's what the
other one
is called?). It is also partially compatible with NVDA (the
address book
edit fields don't tell you what each one is for, and you have to
tab
onto the date to read it, but otherwise, I've not seen any
problems
using DaybyDay with NVDA, and I do it every day). This planning
calendar
is amazing and fully accessible, having been designed by a
totally
blind programmer. I definitely recommend it!
The same programmer (just look on the website for DaybyDay) has
other
programs, including a clock program that is fully accessible
(since it's
made by th e same totally blind programmer). It can do alarms
(I
don't
know what the limit is, it's too large...I tried, and didn't
reach the
limit!), and has a really cool feature that I loved when I
wasn't
at my
computer (it's too loud when I am at the computer). You can set
it to
speak the time, yes, but I much prefer the Big Ben choice. On
the hour,
it does the full song and a chime per hour (1:00, 1 chime, and
so
on).
You can tell it if you want it to go off on the half hour and
quarter
hours or not, also. It can do a short chime on the quarter
hours, and a
longer chime on the half hour, but you can turn these off if you
don't
want them. I have found that a grandfather clock on my computer
reminding me of the time while I'm reading is great, because
then
I
notice, hey it's 7pm, time to get dinner ready or such like
that.
other office tools I find essential.
-A handheld massager from Bookstone. This little vibrator is
very
compact, easy to stick in a desk drawer and very light. It runs
on two
double-A batteries, and has a single setting. Because my
muscles
are so
sensitive, this single setting is perfect for me, as it has a
light
touch. It works great when you sat at the computer too long and
strained
your neck. The curvature of the device means it will even sit
on
your
shoulder if you place it right, and work hands-free, so you can
keep
working! -An index card box. It's a little box made of plastic
with a
flap that snaps down (some nicer ones have a zipper or a snap
latch). I
keep a stylus in there with the index cars and a Jannus (sp?)
slate
nearby. If I need to take a note (someone's address, phone
number, where
so-and-so left my papers, or what this book sitting in front of
me is
that I need to scan). I write up the note, and the notes for
the
book
get put on with tape or a paperclip (hardback versus paperback),
and the
addresses, phone numbers, and little notes like that can go in
an
open
box on the desk to be sorted at the end of the day. An
important
notecard could be taped to the bottom of the keyboard at the
frong,
where it'll stick out and I'll touch it every time I type.
Another
location for notes like this is hanging from the underside of
the
desk
at the frong. Every time you sit down, you're likely to brush
against
them. No more out of sight, out of mind to worry about! -My
desk
doesn't
have a drawer for stuff, just for the computer, so I have a
fabric box
on the top of my desk for stuff (a nice looking one from Ikea).
It holds
tape dispenser, paperclip jar, rubber band jar, scissors,
hole-puncher
(one- and three-hole), , slate (the regular size one, not the
Jannus
slate, since the Jannus stays out for quick grab), a jar with
extra
styli (you never know!), extra packets of index cards, stamps, a
few
pens and pencils and a highlighter for other people to use,
twist
ties
for cords and cables, Krammer abacus, talking calculator, and a
few
other items I can't remember...oh yea, gum! Gotta have gum.
Then, when I need something, I just stick my hand in, feel
around
for
the right shape and grab. Everything's a different shape and
texture, so
I can grab quickly. -Bumpdots and circle felt stickers. I have
found
these to be essential, not just for labelling. If I'm reading a
Braille
document and I want to 'highlight' something, I put a small
circle felt
dot sticker right before the beginning and end of what I want
highlighted. if I'm reading a magazine that I know I won't read
all the
articles in (say , for example, PC World [which I don't get]), I
can put
a felt circle or small bumpdot next to the articles in the table
of
contents that I want to come back to and read).
That's all I can think of for now...
On 10/10/10, BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com> wrote:
Joe,
These are my few essential items:
1. File Management: I'm not afraid to create folders on my
computer,
and try to maintain them in a very organized manner. . I find
the
need to clean house once and a while when in a hurry creating
and
though it takes a little time, I take it.
2. Digital Recorder: A super help is a digital recorder, my
electronic
brain, my notepad of sourts. I have two of these. One cheaper
one I
bought for like $40 which is an Olympus model and is easy to use
with
no speech menus. I use it to keep numbers on the fly, notes
about my
business on the fly, I use it like an inventory sheet in my
business
marking down what I need where, I use it for anything I don't
wish to
forget or need to mark down in a hurry. I'll use it to mark
down song
titles, lines, melodies, etc. as well on the fly. The other
one I have
is a more expensive Olympus one that records in WAV format if
you
wish. I use it as both a computer microphone at times as well
to note
songs I'm working on, record conferences, live song evaluations,
and
etc. I couldn't live without one these days. A note that if
you have
a Victor Stream you can also use it for audio recorded notes
too. I've
also used the Stream to serve as note promptors when doing a
class on
songwriting. I made a txt file of my notes and put it on the
Stream
and covertly used a ear bud as a promptor. I similarly use my
digital
recorder as my set list promptor on long gigs of two hours or
more.
Everyone thinks its a sound system ear monitor :).
3. Day Timer: Probably one of my biggest things is my day
timer.
Anytime I need to be reminded of something, an appointment, a
special
day or To Do item, I'll enter it in there, have it remind me
ahead of
time and even send me an email as well pop an alert on my
screen. It
keeps my contacts, notes and details for my address book or To
Do
items and everything else. It has calendar, address book,
expense
view, glances or views by day, week, month, year and other
stuff, some
not accessible but I don't use them anyway so that's cool. The
program is one that use to be supported by Jaws, no longer
formally is
but it still works if you have the old scripts. It is Anytime
Organizer. I will say the latest version I had tried, version
13, did
not agree with my system and I am running version 12 which works
great
and I will probably not change unless major tweaks are made
from my
version. Though I've found their customer service to be
atrocious, I
still love the program and it is one of which that has kept me
from
converting to a Mac, which I am yet seriously considering. I
just need
to find a Mac anser to this and be open minded to a different,
yet
free screen reader :). I also occasionally use a free and
fairly
accessible program called Alarm Clock By Terry. It serves as a
countdown timer as well an alarm clock on board. It is pretty
accessible. I looked forever to find one that wasn't totally
graphical
and it wasnt' easy. This one has a couple buttons not labeled
but
other than that its fine.
4. Braille Tags: I am not a big Braille reader, I have trouble
falling
asleep trying to read it for any length of time , but I do use
it
around the office. I use old business cards I have and make
notes to
print papered items if I just need to file or otherwise deal
with
them.
5. Clips: One last thing I'll mention since I use to use this
and it
worked great the way I was running my business/office then. I
bought
some of those paper clips that from a profile view are shaped
like a
triangle and have two foldable wire handles on them. You can
afix
Braille dymo tape numbers to them. I'd have my reader go
through and
read a certain mail item or papered item on to a digital
recorder
starting off "Item #1:" and proceed to read it. This way I
could go
and file or attend to it later when I had time and not pay
someone to
do that for me.
Hope that helps.
Brad
At 09:16 AM 10/10/2010, Joe Orozco wrote:
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools for
writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep notepads,
paper
files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep things
organized and spread
out through their office. Last year when I switched jobs and
took one
where
I have the luxury of working from home, I was a little pleased
and
somewhat
disappointed to realize that the two main information storage
devices
I
needed was a laptop and an external hard drive. I recently
invested
in an
embosser for those times when I'd like to be able to read hard
copy,
but I
somehow don't see pasting Braille stickies on a board as all
that
productive, out of sight is out of mind and so forth. The
trouble
with
working primarily from home is that the work is always there.
Similarly,
working out of a single laptop makes it seem as though my work
has
never
really disappeared after 6:00 PM. I suppose I should accepted
when my
office tried to buy me a Mac. It's not too late, but I'm not
ready to
explore a new operating system. So what do you use to keep
things
compartmentalized and organized in your office? Any tips and
tricks
would
be appreciated. I'm reading this time-management book and want
to see
if
there's a different way of arranging my information to boost
general
productivity. Thanks much in advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up
their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam Ewing
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
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bradd
unsemusic.com
__________ Information from ESET Smart Security, version of
virus
signature database 5518 (20101009) __________
The message was checked by ESET Smart Security.
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Brad Dunse
Check out my blog at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
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_______________________________________________
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<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
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http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account
info for
stylist:
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ykat2
%40gmail.com
--
~Jewel
Check out my blog about accessibility for the blind!
Treasure Chest for the Blind:
http://blindtreasurechest.blogspot.com
------------------------------
Message: 2
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:08:59 -0400
From: "Jewel S." <herekittykat2 at gmail.com
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID:
<AANLkTik6zXXXjKXkLgcsJ_BrLwcg=Twp9=HNo5kAjY_8 at mail.gmail.co
m
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
On 10/10/10, BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com> wrote:
Joe,
These are my few essential items:
1. File Management: I'm not afraid to create folders on my
computer,
and try to maintain them in a very organized manner. . I find
the
need to clean house once and a while when in a hurry creating
and
though it takes a little time, I take it.
2. Digital Recorder: A super help is a digital recorder, my
electronic
brain, my notepad of sourts. I have two of these. One cheaper
one I
bought for like $40 which is an Olympus model and is easy to use
with
no speech menus. I use it to keep numbers on the fly, notes
about my
business on the fly, I use it like an inventory sheet in my
business
marking down what I need where, I use it for anything I don't
wish to
forget or need to mark down in a hurry. I'll use it to mark
down song
titles, lines, melodies, etc. as well on the fly. The other
one I have
is a more expensive Olympus one that records in WAV format if
you
wish. I use it as both a computer microphone at times as well
to note
songs I'm working on, record conferences, live song evaluations,
and
etc. I couldn't live without one these days. A note that if
you have
a Victor Stream you can also use it for audio recorded notes
too. I've
also used the Stream to serve as note promptors when doing a
class on
songwriting. I made a txt file of my notes and put it on the
Stream
and covertly used a ear bud as a promptor. I similarly use my
digital
recorder as my set list promptor on long gigs of two hours or
more.
Everyone thinks its a sound system ear monitor :).
3. Day Timer: Probably one of my biggest things is my day
timer.
Anytime I need to be reminded of something, an appointment, a
special
day or To Do item, I'll enter it in there, have it remind me
ahead of
time and even send me an email as well pop an alert on my
screen. It
keeps my contacts, notes and details for my address book or To
Do
items and everything else. It has calendar, address book,
expense
view, glances or views by day, week, month, year and other
stuff, some
not accessible but I don't use them anyway so that's cool. The
program is one that use to be supported by Jaws, no longer
formally is
but it still works if you have the old scripts. It is Anytime
Organizer. I will say the latest version I had tried, version
13, did
not agree with my system and I am running version 12 which works
great
and I will probably not change unless major tweaks are made
from my
version. Though I've found their customer service to be
atrocious, I
still love the program and it is one of which that has kept me
from
converting to a Mac, which I am yet seriously considering. I
just need
to find a Mac anser to this and be open minded to a different,
yet
free screen reader :). I also occasionally use a free and
fairly
accessible program called Alarm Clock By Terry. It serves as a
countdown timer as well an alarm clock on board. It is pretty
accessible. I looked forever to find one that wasn't totally
graphical
and it wasnt' easy. This one has a couple buttons not labeled
but
other than that its fine.
4. Braille Tags: I am not a big Braille reader, I have trouble
falling
asleep trying to read it for any length of time , but I do use
it
around the office. I use old business cards I have and make
notes to
print papered items if I just need to file or otherwise deal
with
them.
5. Clips: One last thing I'll mention since I use to use this
and it
worked great the way I was running my business/office then. I
bought
some of those paper clips that from a profile view are shaped
like a
triangle and have two foldable wire handles on them. You can
afix
Braille dymo tape numbers to them. I'd have my reader go
through and
read a certain mail item or papered item on to a digital
recorder
starting off "Item #1:" and proceed to read it. This way I
could go
and file or attend to it later when I had time and not pay
someone to
do that for me.
Hope that helps.
Brad
At 09:16 AM 10/10/2010, Joe Orozco wrote:
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools for
writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep notepads,
paper
files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep things
organized and spread
out through their office. Last year when I switched jobs and
took one
where
I have the luxury of working from home, I was a little pleased
and
somewhat
disappointed to realize that the two main information storage
devices
I
needed was a laptop and an external hard drive. I recently
invested
in an
embosser for those times when I'd like to be able to read hard
copy,
but I
somehow don't see pasting Braille stickies on a board as all
that
productive, out of sight is out of mind and so forth. The
trouble
with
working primarily from home is that the work is always there.
Similarly,
working out of a single laptop makes it seem as though my work
has
never
really disappeared after 6:00 PM. I suppose I should accepted
when my
office tried to buy me a Mac. It's not too late, but I'm not
ready to
explore a new operating system. So what do you use to keep
things
compartmentalized and organized in your office? Any tips and
tricks
would
be appreciated. I'm reading this time-management book and want
to see
if
there's a different way of arranging my information to boost
general
productivity. Thanks much in advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up
their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam Ewing
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
stylist at nfbnet.org
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account
info
for
stylist:
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bradd
unsemusic.com
__________ Information from ESET Smart Security, version of
virus
signature database 5518 (20101009) __________
The message was checked by ESET Smart Security.
http://www.eset.com
Brad Dunse
Check out my blog at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
E Mail: brad at braddunsemusic.com
Website: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1464323555
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/braddunse
_______________________________________________
Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
stylist mailing list
stylist at nfbnet.org
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account
info for
stylist:
http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/herekitt
ykat2
%40gmail.com
--
~Jewel
Check out my blog about accessibility for the blind!
Treasure Chest for the Blind:
http://blindtreasurechest.blogspot.com
------------------------------
Message: 3
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:15:11 -0500
From: BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com
To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID:
<6.2.3.4.2.20101010141350.02c0f170 at www.braddunsemusic.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"; format=flowed
Jewel,
I did a search but couldn't come up with anything by that name.
Do
you have the name of the person, or perhaps in the help menu
there's
a web address for the program
Thanks.
Brad
Brad
At 01:08 PM 10/10/2010, you wrote:
One thing. If you're looking for a fully accessible computer
planner
and/or alarm clock, do a Google search for DaybyDay Planning
Calendar.
This calendar costs about $40 (and you can put it on two
computers),
allows for multiple users, has an address book and reminder
alerts
(alarms), goes from I think 400 A.D. (<_< Yes, I checked...I
wanted to
know!) to past 2400 (that's as far in the future as I went, but
it kept
going!). So, this calendar could also be sued by historians to
keep
track of a timeline, or for a history student to do the same.
In
the
present time, it is very useful too! You use very basic hotkeys
(CTRL+A
is to add a note, CTRL+D is to go to the Delete menu options,
etc). You
can move by day, week, month, or year, so for example, I wanted
to put
in birthdays, and I put them in for 2010, then moved by year and
added
them each year for like 10 years! I'm not going to have to worry
about
not knowing when birthdays are for a whole decade now!
This program is usable with Windows (I don't know about Mac).
It
is
compatible with JAWS and WindowEyes (I think that's what the
other one
is called?). It is also partially compatible with NVDA (the
address
book edit fields don't tell you what each one is for, and you
have to
tab onto the date to read it, but otherwise, I've not seen any
problems
using DaybyDay with NVDA, and I do it every day). This planning
calendar is amazing and fully accessible, having been designed
by
a
totally blind programmer. I definitely recommend it!
The same programmer (just look on the website for DaybyDay) has
other
programs, including a clock program that is fully accessible
(since
it's made by th e same totally blind programmer). It can do
alarms (I
don't know what the limit is, it's too large...I tried, and
didn't
reach the limit!), and has a really cool feature that I loved
when I
wasn't at my computer (it's too loud when I am at the computer).
You
can set it to speak the time, yes, but I much prefer the Big Ben
choice. On the hour, it does the full song and a chime per hour
(1:00,
1 chime, and so on). You can tell it if you want it to go off
on
the
half hour and quarter hours or not, also. It can do a short
chime on
the quarter hours, and a longer chime on the half hour, but you
can
turn these off if you don't want them. I have found that a
grandfather
clock on my computer reminding me of the time while I'm reading
is
great, because then I notice, hey it's 7pm, time to get dinner
ready or
such like that.
other office tools I find essential.
-A handheld massager from Bookstone. This little vibrator is
very
compact, easy to stick in a desk drawer and very light. It runs
on two
double-A batteries, and has a single setting. Because my
muscles
are so
sensitive, this single setting is perfect for me, as it has a
light
touch. It works great when you sat at the computer too long and
strained your neck. The curvature of the device means it will
even sit
on your shoulder if you place it right, and work hands-free, so
you can
keep working! -An index card box. It's a little box made of
plastic
with a flap that snaps down (some nicer ones have a zipper or a
snap
latch). I keep a stylus in there with the index cars and a
Jannus (sp?)
slate nearby. If I need to take a note (someone's address,
phone
number, where so-and-so left my papers, or what this book
sitting
in
front of me is that I need to scan). I write up the note, and
the notes
for the book get put on with tape or a paperclip (hardback
versus
paperback), and the addresses, phone numbers, and little notes
like
that can go in an open box on the desk to be sorted at the end
of
the
day. An important notecard could be taped to the bottom of the
keyboard
at the frong, where it'll stick out and I'll touch it every time
I
type. Another location for notes like this is hanging from the
underside of the desk at the frong. Every time you sit down,
you're
likely to brush against them. No more out of sight, out of mind
to
worry about! -My desk doesn't have a drawer for stuff, just for
the
computer, so I have a fabric box on the top of my desk for stuff
(a
nice looking one from Ikea). It holds tape dispenser, paperclip
jar,
rubber band jar, scissors, hole-puncher (one- and three-hole), ,
slate
(the regular size one, not the Jannus slate, since the Jannus
stays out
for quick grab), a jar with extra styli (you never know!), extra
packets of index cards, stamps, a few pens and pencils and a
highlighter for other people to use, twist ties for cords and
cables,
Krammer abacus, talking calculator, and a few other items I
can't
remember...oh yea, gum! Gotta have gum.
Then, when I need something, I just stick my hand in, feel
around
for
the right shape and grab. Everything's a different shape and
texture,
so I can grab quickly. -Bumpdots and circle felt stickers. I
have found
these to be essential, not just for labelling. If I'm reading a
Braille
document and I want to 'highlight' something, I put a small
circle felt
dot sticker right before the beginning and end of what I want
highlighted. if I'm reading a magazine that I know I won't read
all the
articles in (say , for example, PC World [which I don't get]), I
can
put a felt circle or small bumpdot next to the articles in the
table of
contents that I want to come back to and read).
That's all I can think of for now...
On 10/10/10, BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com> wrote:
Joe,
These are my few essential items:
1. File Management: I'm not afraid to create folders on my
computer,
and try to maintain them in a very organized manner. . I find
the
need to clean house once and a while when in a hurry creating
and
though it takes a little time, I take it.
2. Digital Recorder: A super help is a digital recorder, my
electronic brain, my notepad of sourts. I have two of these.
One
cheaper one I bought for like $40 which is an Olympus model and
is
easy to use with no speech menus. I use it to keep numbers on
the
fly, notes about my business on the fly, I use it like an
inventory
sheet in my business marking down what I need where, I use it
for
anything I don't wish to forget or need to mark down in a hurry.
I'll use it to mark down song titles, lines, melodies, etc. as
well
on the fly. The other one I have is a more expensive Olympus
one
that records in WAV format if you wish. I use it as both a
computer
microphone at times as well to note songs I'm working on, record
conferences, live song evaluations, and etc. I couldn't live
without one these days. A note that if you have a Victor Stream
you
can also use it for audio recorded notes too. I've also used
the
Stream to serve as note promptors when doing a class on
songwriting.
I made a txt file of my notes and put it on the Stream and
covertly
used a ear bud as a promptor. I similarly use my digital
recorder as
my set list promptor on long gigs of two hours or more.
Everyone
thinks its a sound system ear monitor :).
3. Day Timer: Probably one of my biggest things is my day
timer.
Anytime I need to be reminded of something, an appointment, a
special day or To Do item, I'll enter it in there, have it
remind me
ahead of time and even send me an email as well pop an alert on
my
screen. It keeps my contacts, notes and details for my address
book
or To Do items and everything else. It has calendar, address
book,
expense view, glances or views by day, week, month, year and
other
stuff, some not accessible but I don't use them anyway so that's
cool. The program is one that use to be supported by Jaws, no
longer formally is but it still works if you have the old
scripts.
It is Anytime Organizer. I will say the latest version I had
tried,
version 13, did not agree with my system and I am running
version 12
which works great and I will probably not change unless major
tweaks
are made from my version. Though I've found their customer
service
to be atrocious, I still love the program and it is one of which
that has kept me from converting to a Mac, which I am yet
seriously
considering. I just need to find a Mac anser to this and be
open
minded to a different, yet free screen reader :). I also
occasionally use a free and fairly accessible program called
Alarm
Clock By Terry. It serves as a countdown timer as well an alarm
clock on board. It is pretty accessible. I looked forever to
find
one that wasn't totally graphical and it wasnt' easy. This one
has a
couple buttons not labeled but other than that its fine.
4. Braille Tags: I am not a big Braille reader, I have trouble
falling asleep trying to read it for any length of time , but I
do
use it around the office. I use old business cards I have and
make
notes to print papered items if I just need to file or otherwise
deal with them.
5. Clips: One last thing I'll mention since I use to use this
and it
worked great the way I was running my business/office then. I
bought
some of those paper clips that from a profile view are shaped
like
a triangle and have two foldable wire handles on them. You can
afix
Braille dymo tape numbers to them. I'd have my reader go
through and
read a certain mail item or papered item on to a digital
recorder
starting off "Item #1:" and proceed to read it. This way I
could go
and file or attend to it later when I had time and not pay
someone
to do that for me.
Hope that helps.
Brad
At 09:16 AM 10/10/2010, Joe Orozco wrote:
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools
for writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep
notepads,
paper files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep
things organized and spread
out through their office. Last year when I switched jobs and
took
one
where
I have the luxury of working from home, I was a little pleased
and
somewhat
disappointed to realize that the two main information storage
devices I
needed was a laptop and an external hard drive. I recently
invested
in an
embosser for those times when I'd like to be able to read hard
copy,
but I
somehow don't see pasting Braille stickies on a board as all
that
productive, out of sight is out of mind and so forth. The
trouble
with
working primarily from home is that the work is always there.
Similarly,
working out of a single laptop makes it seem as though my work
has
never
really disappeared after 6:00 PM. I suppose I should accepted
when
my
office tried to buy me a Mac. It's not too late, but I'm not
ready
to
explore a new operating system. So what do you use to keep
things
compartmentalized and organized in your office? Any tips and
tricks
would
be appreciated. I'm reading this time-management book and want
to
see if
there's a different way of arranging my information to boost
general
productivity. Thanks much in advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up
their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam Ewing
_______________________________________________
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Brad Dunse
Check out my blog at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com
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--
~Jewel
Check out my blog about accessibility for the blind!
Treasure Chest for the Blind:
http://blindtreasurechest.blogspot.com
_______________________________________________
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The greatest composer does not sit down to work because he is
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------------------------------
Message: 4
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 14:23:17 -0500
From: "Robert Leslie Newman" <newmanrl at cox.net
To: <jsorozco at gmail.com>, "'Writer's Division Mailing List'"
<stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Message-ID: <008e01cb68b0$979ea340$c6dbe9c0$@cox.net
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
Joe and others- To keep something in my face, a "to do list," I
use 3 by
5 cards and Braille a single task on each one. I have an old
fashion
spike that I poke them down onto.
I also to remind me, I use the calendar in Outlook and sometimes
Tasks,
which is found within Windows.
IN working up a draft of a new article, writing project, I'll
often
start it in my PAC Mate or net book, then polish it in the
desktop. I
always do my last editing on the Braille display (there is where
you can
see your words as they appear within a sentence, you can make
sure of
what is capitalized or not, what the punctuation looks like, the
formatting can be checked out.
I've also used my Victor Stream as a recorder too capture my
thoughts as
I run; I carry it in my hand and hold it up to my mouth when I
feel the
words a flowing.
And soon, I will be retired and I'm thinking that I'll be
doing
even more organizing and pushing the technology, both hard and
soft.
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Joe Orozco
Sent: Sunday, October 10, 2010 9:17 AM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: [stylist] Essential Office Tools
Dear all,
I'm curious about what people think are the essential office
tools for
writers who are blind. Our sighted counterparts keep notepads,
paper
files, bulletin boards and all manner of things to keep things
organized
and spread out through their office. Last year when I switched
jobs and
took one where I have the luxury of working from home, I was a
little
pleased and somewhat disappointed to realize that the two main
information storage devices I needed was a laptop and an
external
hard
drive. I recently invested in an embosser for those times when
I'd like
to be able to read hard copy, but I somehow don't see pasting
Braille
stickies on a board as all that productive, out of sight is out
of mind
and so forth. The trouble with working primarily from home is
that the
work is always there. Similarly, working out of a single laptop
makes
it seem as though my work has never really disappeared after
6:00
PM. I
suppose I should accepted when my office tried to buy me a Mac.
It's
not too late, but I'm not ready to explore a new operating
system. So
what do you use to keep things compartmentalized and organized
in
your
office? Any tips and tricks would be appreciated. I'm reading
this
time-management book and want to see if there's a different way
of
arranging my information to boost general productivity. Thanks
much in
advance.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up
their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam
Ewing
_______________________________________________
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<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/
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net
------------------------------
Message: 5
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2010 20:52:47 -0400
From: Danielle Montour <dannivoiceangel333 at gmail.com
To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Message-ID: <4cb25fee.8482e50a.1d89.ffffa6eb at mx.google.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1"; Format="flowed"
Hi,
I wrote this story two years ago when I was 11, and I want to
improve it. I still want to keep it a short story, I just want
to make it better. Could anyone help me with this? Also, if I'm
not supposed to send attachments to this list, I'm sorry. I
never heard I couldn't, so I'm assuming that it's ok.
Danielle
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------------------------------
Message: 6
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 08:26:22 -0400
From: "Joe Orozco" <jsorozco at gmail.com
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Message-ID: <E380573AD34E4279A14CC35AE2951C4D at Rufus
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII"
Danielle,
Excellent writing for an eleven-year-old. It seems you sent us
a
portion of the story? I would give some more information about
the
girl, perhaps more clues about why she was on the battlefield
and
at
least a hint of what she might've been looking for. I think she
may've
been looking for her father, given how the story ended, but the
guy
picking her up seems like a random act until we discover later
that he's
in fact her father. The setting leads me to believe we're
talking about
an earlier time given the choice of horses and weapons.
Finally,
the
reason I asked if this might be a portion is because of the
epilogue.
Is this perhaps a novel you started? Great job so far. Keep it
up.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up
their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam
Ewing
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Danielle
Montour
Sent: Sunday, October 10, 2010 8:53 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Hi,
I wrote this story two years ago when I was 11, and I want to
improve it. I still want to keep it a short story, I just want
to make it better. Could anyone help me with this? Also, if I'm
not supposed to send attachments to this list, I'm sorry. I
never heard I couldn't, so I'm assuming that it's ok.
Danielle
------------------------------
Message: 7
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 10:00:24 -0400
From: "Chris Kuell" <ckuell at comcast.net
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Short story: warrior
Message-ID: <A9D4F0F926FD45AFA59399A2D4A6B820 at ChrisPC
Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed; charset="iso-8859-1";
reply-type=original
Hi Danielle,
Thanks for sharing your story with us. You write very well, and
personally,
I don't think this story needs a lot of work. Below I'll make
some
general
comments for you to consider.
Firstly, I commend you for writing in the second person. Hardly
any
books or
stories are written in this point of view, as it's hard to do
and
hold
the
reader's attention. Since your story is pretty short, and
exciting, you
managed to hold my attention the whole way through.
If you were at the battlefield that day, you would've heard a
battle
cry... - Your writing has a formal voice, so I would recommend
not using
the
contraction, 'would've' and go with 'would have' instead.
You would hear the guns and muskets... - Since you are telling
your
story in
the past tense, you need to keep that consistent. So this
should
read
'you
would have heard...
Soldiers alongside every human soldier on the battlefield.- I
get
what
you
mean here, that the guns and sounds are like soldiers
themselves,
but
still,
I found this sentence a little awkward. Perhaps Sensory
soldiers
alongside...? Or maybe, The war itself a soldier alongside...?
All men are fighting for everything they've lived for, and for
everything
their children will live for and pass down generations to their
grandchildren.- this sentence is a little clunky, and I think
'generations'
is the problem--you don't really need it. If you want to keep
it,
consider :
All men are fighting for everything they've ever lived for, for
everything
their children and grandchildren will live for and pass down
through the
generations .
Readers will likely be interested in when your story takes
place.
Horses
and
guns and the United States makes me think of civil or
revolutionary war,
but
since it's an attack on the US, I'd say it must be the
revolutionary
war--although in that war there weren't really attacks on
America, as
America didn't exist yet and was merely a colony. The colony
was
under
attack by England and the Hessian soldiers the Brits paid to
fight for
them.
There were attacks on Boston, on Manhattan, on various forts,
etc... and
you
might want to clarify this. A simple red coat or British flag
would
help, as
would a short (3 to 5 words) description of what the little girl
was
wearing.
Good fiction is a balance between character, plot and setting.
I'd like
to
see you add just a touch of setting to help ground the reader in
the
place
and time of your story.
It seemed to be familiar to er, as if she had known for a long
time.-
this
sentence is incomplete, you need to tell us what she knew for a
long
time.
We can infer it was the voice, but we can't be sure. Consider :
It drew
her
in, a familiar, gruff baritone , long distant in her memory -
something
like
that.
Watch out for the word 'seemed', which you use quite often, and
should
try
to avoid. Fiction writers need to be firm and concrete. For
example:
Danielle took a bite of toast. Or, Danielle seemed to take a
bite of
what
seemed to be toast.This isn't the best example, but the second
sentence
is
wordy and less definitive.
(consider a sentence where the soldier drops to one knee after
being
shot,
maybe touches the wound in his neck, grits his teeth, gets up
and
keeps
going) He tried to run, tried (to) protect this young girl in
his
arms.
Tried to protect her every being (this sentence says pretty much
the
same
thing as the previous one, so either delete it or change it to
make it
different). He ran, lurched (and) tripped toward the tents
where
he
could
lay her down and make sure she was safe.
Stories this short don't usually have epilogues. Those are
generally for
novels or 'longer' short stories. Some writers will separate
sections of
text by using asterisks * * *, but in this case, I don't think
you
really
need that. You could simply start your next paragraph as you
do,
and it
will
become apparent to the reader that time has passed. I'd also
recommend
deleting 'approximately'. Again, fiction writers need to be
concrete,
not
wishy-washy. Say, Four years later..., or Four years and two
months
later...
which make the story more real to your readers.
Finally, I'm not sure why you ended with a question mark. I'd
go
with a
period.
Nice job, and thanks again for letting us read your work.
chris
------------------------------
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Message: 3
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2010 15:43:20 -0500
From: "James H. \"Jim\" Canaday M.A. N6YR" <n6yr at sunflower.com
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Sense of murder
Message-ID: <201010112043.o9BKhRhZ007803 at smtp.sunflower.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"; format=flowed
Bridgid,
I'm working through your story, it is very good!
I'm making comments as I read.
so, I expect to have comments for you soon.
nice job with characters of Ayden and Salma.
jc
At 04:01 PM 10/8/2010, you wrote:
Brad,
To address some of your points:
Ayden is a recluse in that he does not develop intimate
relationships
with people until meeting Salma. He goes through the motions,
but
never emotionally or mentally connects with anyone. Salma
provides a
deeper friendship than he has cultivated so far.
Ayden begins by tapping along the brick building which sounds
differently from tapping against the glass door. This is a
description
of how we use a cane. No one sighted who has read this was
confused by
it. If writing for a blind audience only, it would not make
sense, to
me, to include these descriptions at all since we know how we do
things. On the other hand, having an audience who may not have
exposure to blind people and/or their skills, they would wonder
how a
blind character does certain things. We all know how people have
simple
questions for us so it seems like these descriptions would be
more
appreciated by those who do not know how a blind person acts or
thinks.
Plus, making Ayden blind (which he was not originally) readers
will need
to know certain things. Like I can't just sit my blind character
at a
computer and expect some people to understand this.
Ayden leaned across the table looking straight in the direction
where
Sheriff Jenkins sat. "I thought Henry was a catch. You know, a
lawyer
from a wealthy family."
"He was a playboy. Always was, never changed."
Eache of these is its own para. When action is included with
dialogue
in a para, it is attached to the speaker. Since the first para
begins
with Ayden, the following dialogue is attached to Ayden.
Again, so far sighted readers have appreciated the descriptions
dealing
with things specific to blind people. Most people have no idea
what a
slate and stylus is even when looking at one. It makes sense, to
me,
to give a brief description of visually what it looks like while
at the
same time explaining how one uses it.
Salma's comment about figuring out the case without technology is
clearly sarcasm. During this whole portion of dialogue, Salma is
reaching impatience with Ayden for not picking things up quick
enough.
She shows her playful side so this comment does not seem to fit
into the
serious considering her attitude with everything else. Also, it
is
common knowledge that people use to conduct life without all the
technology we have now, so I assumed readers would get it. And
the
following "Ayden smirked at her," kind of gives one a clue that
they are
joking with one another. Accessible is in italics which means
Ayden is
stressing the word playing along with Salma's sarcasm.
Ayden and Salma are not from this small town. There are numerous
places
throughout where they talk about being from a city and Ayden
mentions
not having visited here often. Regardless, people in a town of
10,000
still use phone books and the like to look up contact info.
Alice was in love with Henry and he died before they could
resolve their
relationship. When she sees Ayden, who looks just like Henry,
she is
presumably thrown off guard and utters this before she knows what
she
is doing.
It does not seem that unnusual for a person to remark on the
uncanny
resemblence a person might bear to some one else they knew.
People
constantly come up to my sister to tell her that her daughter is
the
spitting image of her.
I established early on that Salm and Ayden live across the hall
from one
another. I did not clarify the point that they were or were not
living
together, but I do make it clear that they are dating.
So far, a lot of people have enjoyed this aspect of the story
since
Henry was a bit of a cad. Sort of a redemptive quality in a
sense.
I wanted their relationship to happen quickly. They are in this
situation together and subconscience feelings begin to rise to
the
surface. Most mysteries include a love element anyway.
FYI, my husband and mine's relationship happened quickly like
this.
*smile*
First, no this is not a conclusion, but I purposefully meant to
place
suspicion on Alice, Henry's lover, Sheriff Jenkins and Nick,
Ayden's
father. It is clear in the end that Ayden is not done looking
into
Henry's death, but it takes a reprieve. Plus, Ayden is not a
detective
so he may not have the same obsession to finish a case especially
if he
felt he knew some of the answers.
I probably won't continue this story since I merely wrote it for
a
class, but Ayden is a character I have been working on for a
couple of
years. I may deal with him again, but not in the context of a
mystery.
I'm too focused on non-fiction right now to develop a fiction
unfortunately.
Bridgit
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Sent: Friday, October 08, 2010 12:00 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 5
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"Re: Contents of stylist digest..."
Today's Topics:
1. detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some language,
alludes to sexual content (Bridgit Pollpeter)
2. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some language,
alludes to sexual content (Priscilla McKinley)
3. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
language,
alludes to sexual content (Joe Orozco)
4. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
language,
alludes to sexual content (Robert Leslie Newman)
5. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some language,
alludes to sexual content (BDM)
6. no more mystery (Pat Harmon)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----
Message: 1
Date: Thu, 7 Oct 2010 21:05:39 -0500
From: Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com
To: writers division <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID: <SNT136-w5394EB83769ED4F1912F90C4500 at phx.gbl
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="Windows-1252"
Hey guys,
I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an upper
lit
credit. We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would
share
mine with you. Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also,
I wrote
it in about a 12-our time span. Yes, I'm a procrastinator!
*smile*
It was fun though so enjoy.
Bridgit P
Sense of Murder
Ayden sat in his father?s leather wingback chair rolling a large
key
between his fingers. The metal key had been cold, but now was
warmed by
his hands. He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb
across the
rough , rusty surface. Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely been
researching the mysterious death of his grandfather for a book he
was
writing. Now, he sat among items wondering if his grandfather
had been
murdered. Ayden?s father, Nick, had found Henry, his
grandfather, lying
at the bottom of the staircase in his home. Nick never spoke
about the
incident after reporting it to the police. He would not speak to
Ayden
about Henry?s death either, but he was allowing Ayden and Salma
to
search through any items Nick kept. No one had been sure what
happened.
Lucy, Ayden?s grandmother, had been present too when Henry?s body
was
found. The police recorded the death as an accidental fall.
Many
silently pointed fingers at Lucy though. Lucy had grown
distraught
during the past few months before Henry?s death. Friends and
family
reported that she had been distracted often or in an irritated
mood.
This was unlike the warm and tender grandmother Ayden had grown
up with.
When Nick found his father?s body, Lucy had gone wild, screaming,
unable
to leave Henry?s lifeless body. Eventually Nick placed her in a
care
home. Here Lucy had reached an almost catatonic state until she
too had
passed. Gossips spread the news, sweeping far and wide. Lucy
was crazy,
they said. She went mad, she killed her husband. It was juicy,
just
what a small town needed. The police never looked into the
possibility,
but Lucy died with a scarlet letter attached to her memory.
Ayden could
never believe that Lucy would hurt anyone. Lucy had been fond of
Ayden,
guiding him, encouraging him. ?You?re so full of potential,
Ayden. I
can see fire in your eyes,? she used to tell him. When Ayden
lost his
vision, Lucy had been the one person who supported him, still
encouraging. For years, though, there had been whispers of foul
play,
but no one ever spoke about the rumors. Vague insinuations were
the
closest anyone came to mentioning ?murder.? Ayden, though, had
never
played by the rules. His mother referred to him as the ?black
sheep of
the family? whenever she threw a dinner party. Ayden never felt
like he
fit in his family?s world of snobbish dinner parties, elite
country
clubs and preferential treatment at most Ivy League universities.
He
had already been a disappointment to his family before a car
accident
left him blind. Seven-years later, Ayden had come to terms with
his
blindness, but his family accepted him only out of duty. His
father had
been clear when saying, ?This condition of yours is not suitable
for the
courtroom, but the firm can take you on in a capacity for
research,
perhaps. Maybe a paralegal position will be suitable.? Ayden was
not
able to live with this attitude hanging over him. After
completing his
bachelor?s in literature, Ayden took up a career writing for any
newspapers or journals that accepted his entries. Writing for a
small
literary journal allowed Ayden to work on his novel which had
turned
into a fictionalized account of his grandfather?s death. Asking
his
father for any information about his grandfather?s life, was the
reason
Ayden now sat in his father?s study. He found more, he thought,
than
his father knew about though. ?So what?s next?? Salma asked.
Salma
lived across the hall from Ayden in his building. They had
become
friends, and Salma now was helping him research his grandfather?s
life.
Tapping the key in his palm, Ayden said, ?I?m not sure. This
letter
says a lot.? Ayden closed his eyes thinking on this letter. It
was
evidence, even if circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew
about it,
she could have killed Henry. There was a pause then paper
crackled
before Salma spoke. ?It?s pretty clear from this letter that
your
grandfather was having an affair. I wonder if we can figure out
these
initials, A. W.? Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to
remember anyone
he had ever met with A. W. for initials. ?I don?t know,? he
sighed. As
Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they had found
an old
copy of Wuthering Heights. Ayden remembered the year Henry had
given
the third edition book to Lucy for Christmas. Lucy had sat
unwrapping
the gift, then exclaimed, ?Oh,? before looking up with tears in
her
eyes. Wuthering Heights had always been her favorite novel.
Lucy had
been the one person to encourage Ayden to follow his dream and
take up
writing instead of joining the family law firm. ?You?re meant to
follow
your own path,? Lucy had told Ayden once. Twenty-years later,
Ayden and
Salma found a letter enclosed in the pages of the book. Ayden
touched
the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it out to Salma to
inspect.
She told him the letter appeared old, but not as old as the book.
A few
of the torn edges of the letter were turning yellow. The letter
was
simple as she read:
Henry, my love,
I can not wait to see you again. I hoped and when I saw you
coming down
the road, my heart leaped. I still feel your touch. How much
longer
must we wait? Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is
too
late.
Love, A. W.
?What now? Where do we go next?? Salma asked.
Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him. ?We visit
the old
Templeton mansion.? The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home
Henry
and Lucy had lived in for years. The family still owned it, but
it had
sat empty for years. Ayden thought that maybe more secrets were
hidden
within the walls of the Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove. Neither spoke as Ayden?s
fingers
slid across the pages on his lap. Reading his Braille notes,
Ayden
wondered where to start once they reached the small town where
his
grandparents and father had grown up. Henry had started a small
law
firm in town, but eventually it grew. Henry and Lucy had moved
when
Nick had been ten. Nick never spoke about his childhood though.
Ayden
really didn?t know much about his family?s past. Lucy and Henry
had
moved back to their old house once Nick took the firm over, but
Ayden
had rarely visited the home. After Henry had died, Lucy, unable
to cope
with his death, had moved into an upscale nursing home in the
City, and
Nick left the house untouched. The house had sat empty now for
ten
years. As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma. ?Are we
there??
?Yes. What?s our first stop?? ?I?m figuring this out as we go
along.
I guess the police station.? Salma was silent before saying, ?You
okay?
I know your dad wasn?t happy.? Ayden had questioned his father
about the
letter, but Nick had gone quiet and cold before telling Ayden,
?Leave it
alone. We don?t dig up family history.? Ayden tried to coax Nick
to say
more, but the subject was closed. ?Yeah. I wish he would have
told us
more. Explained something,? Ayden said. ?Maybe he just wants to
keep
your family secrets, well, secret. Some people don?t like giving
out
info about anything.? ?I just feel like he knows more than he?s
letting
on. Mom just played dumb too.? ?We?ll find something. Don?t
worry.?
Salma was always reassuring Ayden. She had become a constant in
his
life. The only real constant he had. She had shown up one day,
knocking on his door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden
some
home made enchiladas. That had been the beginning of their
friendship.
They had spent many nights talking until three in the morning and
hanging out on weekends. Salma was the one connection Ayden had
to the
outside world. Once moving away from his family, he had become a
recluse of sorts. He showed up to the office for work, attended
cocktail parties required for work and even dated a couple of
girls, but
Salma was the one person he truly felt comfortable with. Her
infectious
way of always looking at things positively seemed like a novelty
to
Ayden. She could always make him smile. When he began writing
the book
about Henry, Salma had offered to assist in anyway she could.
?I?m
really glad you?re here,? Ayden said.
?Yeah, yeah. I?m waiting for my pay check.? Salma giggled as she
pulled into a parking stall. ?I think we?re here.? While Salma
dropped
coins into the parking meter, Ayden tapped his cane along the
brick
walls looking for the door. Hearing the clink of glass as his
cane
tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door. ?No Braille, is this
it?? he
shouted back to Salma. ?I believe so,? she answered rushing to
catch up.
They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere of the police
station. Ayden moved towards the sound of clacking as some one
pressed
keys on a computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency. This,
he
thought, must be a reception desk. Stepping up to a smooth
feeling
counter, Ayden said, ?Excuse me.? ?Can I help you?? a woman?s
bored
voice said. ?We were wondering if we can speak to some one who
worked
the Henry Templeton case,? Ayden said. The woman stopped typing
and a
long silence followed. ?Who?s asking?? ?I?m Ayden Templeton,
Henry?s
grandson.? ?One minute.? A chair creaked as the woman stood. Her
shoes
clacked as she walked away. Salma touched Ayden?s arm. ?She had
a weird
look when you mentioned your grandpa?s name.? Ayden said nothing,
not
sure what he was doing there in the first place. The woman?s
shoes
clacked once more as she returned. Another footstep joined hers,
but
this person shuffled slightly. The person shuffled towards
Salma,
saying, ?Hello. I?m Sheriff Jenkins. How can I help you?? Ayden
stepped closer towards Salma, extending his arm to Sheriff
Jenkins.
?I?m Ayden Templeton and this is Salma Juarez. We have some
questions
about my grandfather?s death.? There was a pause before Sheriff
Jenkins
shook Ayden?s hand. ?Step into my office please.? Ayden followed
the
sheriff into a room off the main section of the department. His
cane
swep the inside of the door frame, indicating the width so Ayden
avoided
bumping into the edges of the frame. Ayden asked where a chair
was and
turned in the direction Captain Jenkins indicated. Once again,
his cane
found the chair and sliding the cane across the seat, Ayden
determined
where the front of the chair was. Salma?s arm brushed his as she
sat
next to him. ?Can I get you anything?? Sheriff Jenkins asked.
?No, but
thank you. Salma?? ?I?m good,? Salma replied. Ayden felt a
tension fill
the room as the three sat there, not speaking. Sheriff Jenkins
began
tapping the edge of the metal table in the interrogation room.
Ayden
twisted his cane between his fingers. Salma bobbed her foot
which was
lightly kicking Ayden?s shin. ?We?re hoping to learn as much as
we can
about Henry Templeton?s death. I?m researching the story for a
novel
I?m working on,? Ayden started. ?I worked the case. There?s not
much to
tell,? Sheriff Jenkins said. ?I know you eventually reported it
as an
accidental death, but was there ever any evidence suggesting
otherwise??
Ayden asked. ?No. We questioned friends and family and there
was no
reason to believe Henry Templeton was murdered,? Sheriff Jenkins
said
sharply. Ayden shifted his head towards Salma before saying, ?I
know
there was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it.? ?Lucy
Baldwin? She never hurt anyone. We were all shocked when she
married
Henry. She could have had anyone she wanted.? Ayden leaned
against the
table looking straight in the direction where Sheriff Jenkins
sat. ?I
thought Henry was a catch? You know, a lawyer from a wealthy
family.?
?He was a playboy. Always was, never changed.? ?Who did you
question
about his death?? Salma broke in. The sheriff?s chair creaked as
he
leaned back. ?Well, of course Lucy and her boy Nick. They were
there.
Found his body and all.? Ayden shot the sheriff a questioning
glance.
He was talking like he had forgot who Ayden was. ?Then there was
Zelda,
the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he came around about once a
week to
help Lucy with the lawn. She loved her garden. Her roses won
prizes
around here,? Sheriff Jenkins continued. ?Anyone else?? Ayden
asked.
?Oh, his work associates, but Henry was retired so they didn?t
see much
of him anymore. Alice Whitley, she had been his personal
secretary for
years. She still did stuff part-time for Henry.? Ayden had
pulled out a
three-by-five plastic device that had six rows of cells
containing three
holes on each side of the cells. A pop-pop-pop sound was made as
Ayden
poked a pointed awl-like object called a stylus through the holes
as he
took Braille notes. ?Are any of these people still around?? ?Not
everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton?s to leave
town.
Other than Henry?s work associates, I think most of them still
live
around here. At least the one?s who are still alive.? ?Is there
anything else you can tell us? Was there anything strange you
noticed?
Any evidence that suggest something other than an accidental
tumble down
the stairs?? The sheriff laughed. ?I know you city folk like to
dream
up seedy happenings in small towns, but Henry Templeton?s death
was
nothing more than an accident. Nothing dark about it.? ?Thank
you for
your time,? Ayden said extending his hand again to shake Sheriff
Jenkins?s. Sheriff Jenkins sighed. ?Look, don?t go digging
anything up.
Just let the dead rest.? Salma?s bracelet tinkled as they stood.
?We
understand. I?m just trying to find things out about my
grandfather for
the book. You know, no stone uncovered,? Ayden said. ?Are you
two
married?? Sheriff Jenkins asked. Ayden, confused by the switch,
replied,
?No.? The sheriff chuckled. ?Like your grandpa, I see.? Ayden
blushed,
but Salma said, ?Ayden is nothing but a gentleman. Clearly
something he
did not pick up in this town.? ?I know the kind of men the
Templeton?s
are,? the sheriff said. Unsure of what to do, Ayden turned to
leave. ?At
least he has a better chance of touching what you have been
admiring
this whole time,? Salma snapped. She turned quickly and Ayden
felt a
rush of breeze as she left the room.
Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
?I?m sorry. I didn?t know what to say.?
?It?s okay. He was a pig.?
?I didn?t realize-?
?I know, its okay. Where to next??
Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone. ?The
house, I
guess.? As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of
traffic,
Ayden wondered why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had.
Was it
simply said in a moment of anger, or was there any truth in her
words,
he thought. He has a better chance of touching what you have
been
admiring. For the first time, Ayden thought of the possibilities
with
Salma.
Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it had
been
during the few visits he had made during his childhood. The
house had
always stood out even among the street full of bright, cheery
houses
complete with emerald lawns and award winning gardens. The
Templeton
house had a wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening
onto a
large lawn complete with a British garden. Its three stories
reached
majestically towards the sky.
Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house. The
feel of
the railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark
wooden
banister. The stairs creaked as he stepped on them. Reaching
the
porch, he felt a slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear
of
falling through the porch. Children played nearby and cars
languidly
drove down the street, but a strange silence surrounded the
house. It
was as though Ayden were underneath water trying to make out the
distant
sounds. The scent of jasmine passed briefly through his nose as
Salma
stood next to him. ?How does it look?? Ayden asked ignoring the
scent.
Salma took a deep breath. ?It?s run down, that?s for sure. I
can?t
believe no one has lived here for years.? ?My family still owns
it, but
after my grandfather?s death, no one wanted to do anything about
it.?
Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of the dilapidated
Victorian
house. He dug in his pockets for the rusty key he had found in
his
father?s office. As he inserted the heavy key in the lock, a
quiet
click was heard. Ayden pushed the solid door open. He looked in
Salma?s direction before stepping inside. Shutting the door, the
house
engulfed all sound like a tomb. ?Creepy,? Salma said as she
shivered.
Ayden walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide so
as to
not run into anything. Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as
he
inhaled. ?This has been sitting for years,? Ayden rasped.
?What?s it
look like?? Salma looked around. ?It?s really dark, but it?s
almost
completely empty. What do you think you?ll find?? ?I?m not sure.
Sheriff Jenkins wasn?t much help. I just thought, maybe
something??
Salma?s sandals clipped-clopped as she walked over to a window to
open
it. ?Well, if we are going to be here long we need fresh air.?
Ayden
felt a rush of summer breeze as the window clambered up. The
sound of
kids jumping rope ruined the house?s stolid silence. Life
entered the
house again as Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue.
Salma
clumped up the stairs as Ayden moved from room to room feeling
walls and
any remaining furniture, hoping to find something, anything. He
rifled
through drawers and cupboards. So far his hands had only found
dust and
cobwebs. ?Ayden, Ayden!? Salma shouted a couple of hours later.
Ayden
hurried towards the staircase. ?Salma! Are you okay?? ?Get up
here! I
found something!? Ayden clambered up the grand staircase.
Reaching the
top, he shouted, ?What room?? ?Um, it?s a bedroom.? Hearing her
voice
off to his left, Ayden moved down the hallway. At the end, he
found a
door open. ?Salma?? Salma?s clapping sandals moved towards
Ayden. ?Look
at this,? she said excitedly. Her bracelet tinkled and paper
crackled
as she shoved something in Ayden?s hand. Ayden grinned. ?Um??
He
handed the paper back to Salma. ?Oh-sorry. I just-you won?t
believe
this.? It was another letter; a love letter to Henry. Henry, My
love, I
miss you. I grow restless with each day. I have waited years to
be
with you, really be with you. Let?s stop the pretending, stop
the lies.
Don?t be mad with me. I would do anything for you, but we must
stop
hiding. There is no harm in this. I will wait to hear from you,
but
don?t take long. Love,
A. W.
Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath. Ayden was
not
quite sure what her excitement was for. ?We already know Henry
was
having an affair of sorts,? he said. Salma sighed impatiently.
?Ayden,
think about it. Don?t you see?? ?Not really,? he said slowly.
She
grabbed his wrist. Her slender fingers gripped him with a
strength
Ayden would not have guessed at. She moved in closer and once
again,
Ayden took in the scent of jasmine. This time he smelled
something else
with it. Vanilla, he thought. Salma shook his arm slightly
bringing
him back to attention. ?Ayden, A. W. Don?t you see it yet??
?A. W.??
?The initials,? she said exasperated, ?A. W. Alice Whitley.?
?Who?s
Alice Whitley?? Salma smacked her forehead. ?Ay-where are your
notes
from today?? Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from
his back
pocket. ?Now read through it,? Salma said as though talking to a
small
child. Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked
sharply up
at Salma. ?See?? Salma asked. ?I can?t believe we didn?t
realize it
then. His secretary. And Sheriff Jenkins said she?s still
living in
town.? ?Think we can find her?? ?Give me a minute,? Ayden said
reaching
for his mobile phone tucked away in his pocket. An electronic
hum came
from his phone as he maneuvered through the menus on his phone.
A
screen-reading program specific to mobile phones, helped Ayden
utilize
the functions on his phone. ?Got it. There?s only one Alice
Whitley
that shows up in town.? ?Thank God for technology,? Salma said.
?No
wonder no one could ever solve this case.? Ayden smirked at her.
?Thank
God for accessible technology. Come on. She doesn?t live far
from here
and it?s not too late.?
Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door. The house
was
less substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described
its
well-kempt lawn and cheery exterior. The door opened and a
woman?s voice
gasped, ?Oh.? ?Miss Whitley? I?m Ayden-? ?Templeton,? she said.
?You
look like Henry.? Smiling, Ayden said, ?Miss Whitley, this is my
friend
Salma. We?re working on a book about my grandfather, and we
would like
to ask you some questions.? ?Oh, of course. Come in, come in.?
As the
door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower scent that
he
couldn?t place and a clock ticked nearby. Alice Whitley ushered
them
into a sitting room off the entryway. Salma sat next to Ayden on
the
soft couch while Alice sat across from them. ?Can I offer you
anything?
I just made lemonade.? ?That would be wonderful,? Salma said. As
Alice
left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma. ?I?m sorry, I didn?t
even
think to ask if you were hungry.? ?Hon, it?s okay. I didn?t
think about
it myself until now.? ?We?ll have dinner after this; I promise.?
?Promise?? Ayden grinned as Alice returned. She placed an
ice-cold
glass in Ayden?s hand. Ice chinked against the side as he took a
gulp.
The cold liquid felt good down his throat after the dust of his
family?s
house. He could only imagine how dirty he and Salma looked. He
felt
the mingled grime of sweat and dirt on his body. Why had it not
occurred to them to stop somewhere first and wash up, Ayden
thought.
?So, what can I help you with? Henry was a dear friend and I miss
him.
You must call me Alice.? ?Well, Alice, we specifically are
interested in
his death,? Ayden said. Alice choked on her lemonade. ?Why
would you be
interested in that?? ?I believe that maybe his death wasn?t
accidental.?
?Oh dear, don?t buy into those silly rumors. Pete Jenkins
conducted a
thorough investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at.?
?And yet
the rumors persist,? Ayden said. ?Silly gossip. Housewives
bored out of
there minds.? ?You know Sheriff Jenkins?? Ayden asked. ?Darling,
it?s a
town of ten-thousand; everybody knows everybody.? Ayden sipped on
his
lemonade as Salma clicked her nails against the side of her
glass. ?We
have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story,? Ayden
said.
He affected his best courtroom demeanor. He had seen his father
like
this hundreds of times. Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her
glass.
Her voice had lost some of its cheeriness when she responded by
asking,
?What makes you say that?? Ayden found the love letter in a
folder. He
removed the Braille label, setting the letter on the coffee table
dividing Ayden and Salma from Alice. The room grew still. The
letter
rustled as Alice picked it up. When she spoke, she sounded
choked as
though she were holding back tears. ?Where did you find this??
?It was
in some old boxes in the Templeton home,? Salma said. A long
silence
followed in which Ayden could hear Alice sniffling. ?I suppose
the truth
has to come out sooner or later,? Alice said quietly. ?We don?t
need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason to think
Henry was
killed?? Ayden soothed. ?Your grandfather hired me when I was
eighteen,?
Alice began, ignoring Ayden. ?I instantly fell in love with him,
but he
was that type. Dashingly handsome, charming to a fault. He was
a few
years older than me, but I knew how all the girls waited for
their
chance to rope Henry into marriage. I felt so lucky to see him
everyday. I started out as a simple receptionist, but eventually
he
promoted me to his personal secretary.? ?Did you move with my
grandparents then, when they moved?? Ayden asked. Alice sighed.
?Yes,
but after-things happened-I moved back. I remained in his
employ,
working from the office here in town. Before your father took
charge,
Henry?s headquarters had always been based from here.? Ayden
nodded his
head. ?I never meant to hurt anyone. Things happened. Henry
loved us
both, Lucy and I. I tried to end it for years, but Henry always
showed
up with that smile of his. Then I tried to make him choose. I
should?ve known better, but I was in love.? Alice continued to
spill her
story, hoping for redemption perhaps. ?The final straw came
right before
his death. We had carried on for almost forty-years and I knew
it had
to stop. We fought. I threatened to tell Lucy and that was
that. He
left me promising to choose. I waited for an answer, but a week
later,
Henry was found dead.? ?Did you ever tell anyone?? Ayden asked.
?No.?
Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice?s house. A breeze
tousled Ayden?s hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through
his
dark tresses. ?Seems like all you Templeton men are
irresistible,? she
said teasingly. Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he
grinned, but
before he could make a remark, Ayden heard her car door click
open. He
slid into the passenger seat, heart pounding. ?You promised me
dinner,?
Salma whined playfully.
After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and Salma
found
themselves walking through the downtown area. Salma kept up with
Ayden?s stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc.
?Sometimes I
think it would be nice to live in a small town,? Salma mused.
?Really,
you? Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day,? Ayden joked. ?I
could
drive to the city. I don?t know. It seems like a nice place to
raise a
family.? Ayden had never heard Salma speak about kids or
families. As
well as he knew her, Ayden realized there was plenty he still had
to
learn about Salma. ?Yes, we could raise happy little kids who
will grow
up to cheat, lie and murder,? Ayden scoffed. ?We, huh?? Ayden
blushed,
feeling the heat creep up his neck to his face. He hadn?t caught
his
blunder. He sputtered, but before he could make sense of his
words,
Salma grabbed his hand. ?Maybe we can live in the Templeton
mansion,?
she said. They walked silently back to the car. ?It?s pretty
late, what
should we do?? Salma asked. Ayden flipped the crystal face of
his watch
up. Feeling the raised dots and arrows with his pointer finger
on his
Braille watch, he said, ?It?s a quarter to eleven. I?m beat.?
?Me too.
I don?t really feel like driving back tonight though.? Ayden
scratched
his head. ?I guess we can stay at casa-de-Templeton.? ?Okay, but
no
funny business,? Salma joked. Sitting in the car, Ayden said,
?By the
way, unlike some men in my family, I?m more of a one-woman type.?
They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master
bedroom.
?Sure you don?t want to sleep in another room?? Ayden asked.
?Hell no!
This house is creepy.? ?I thought you wanted to raise children
here??
?Shut-up. Scared to sleep with a girl?? The bed creaked as Salma
lay
down on it. ?A bit musty.? They had found spare bed linens in a
box and
had attempted to shake them out as best they could. Ayden had
noticed a
lingering wispy scent of flowers that he could not place. It may
have
been the remnants of something used to launder the linens years
ago, he
had thought. Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and
handed it to
Salma. ?Here. You can wrap your pillow in it.? ?Thanks,? Salma
said
drawing the word out. Realizing what he had just done, he
blushed for
the millionth time that day. Not able to turn back what he had
done,
Ayden lay slowly down, sticking close to the edge. ?Keep your
hands
above the blankets,? Salma yawned.
Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly dawned
as he
felt Salma?s small body nestled against his. She snored quietly
and
Ayden smiled. This was nice, he thought. He extracted himself
gently
from the bed, trying to not wake Salma. He needed to use the
bathroom,
but it struck him that the bathrooms would not be in working
order. It
was primitive, but it would have to do, he thought as he found
his way
downstairs and out into the back garden. Hoping no neighbors
were awake
to see him, he relieved himself. Half asleep still, his eyes
snapped
open as a slight shuffle came from behind him. Finished with his
midnight chore, he listened intently, but no sound came again.
He
turned around, gripping his cane in one hand. ?Hello,? he said.
No
response came. He turned back towards the house and as he
walked, Ayden
felt his back tingle. It was the sensation he felt as a child
when
terrified, feeling a presence behind him. He was an adult now,
he
chided himself. Forcing himself to walk calmly back into the
house, he
reached the French doors and entered. As he went to shut the
doors, a
soft shuffle started in the darkness again. It could have been
the long
dead foliage rustling in the breeze, but Ayden placed himself in
the
doorway again. The noise instantly stopped. Slamming the door
and
locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs, taking three steps at a
time.
Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, Ayden felt a cool
breeze cut
through the stuffy air of the bedroom. DeMint, he swore to
himself.
They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping to air out
their
lodgings for the night. Salma still was sleeping peacefully on
the bed.
He sat on the bed resting his head on the large carved headboard,
listening. Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the
leaves of
trees from time to time. Salma continued her snoring. Silence
loomed
around the house. Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again
or a
step on the stairs, but nothing came. He relaxed after fifteen
minutes
of vigilante guarding. Laying back down on the bed, one arm
behind his
head, he smiled when Salma threw an arm across his chest.
Thinking only
of Salma by now, Ayden drifted back off to sleep.
The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something
was not
right. Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but an
acrid
odor filled his nostrils. A loud crack made him bolt up in bed.
?Salma!
There?s a fire!? He shook her until she woke up. ?We need to get
out of
here,? Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a conscience state.
Ayden
flew to the open door. Smoke filled his nose and made his eyes
water.
?Salma, I can?t tell if we can make it down the stairs.? Standing
next
to him, she said, ?All I can see is smoke. Can we jump out the
window??
?We?re on the second floor. It?s pretty high up.? Now across the
room,
Ayden heard Salma cry, ?Oh-my-god! Ayden!? ?What?? ?I can see
flames
around the base of the house.? ?Shit.? Trying to think, Ayden
gathered
up the sheet from the bed. Dousing it with water from the couple
bottles purchased last night, he threw the sheet at Salma. ?Wrap
yourself in this.? ?Why?? ?Just do it.? Making sure her long hair
was
covered, Ayden threw Salma over his shoulder. Grabbing his cane
by the
door, he moved into the hallway. Hoping the shirt tied around
his face
would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top of the stairs.
Despite the
situation, Ayden could not help notice the harlequin-romance-like
predicament. He heard Salma say something, but her face was
muffled and
he could not understand her. Tucking his cane underneath his
arm, he
groped the banister which still seemed intact. Finally reaching
the
bottom, he found his way to the front door and opened it. A rush
of
fresh air greeted him. Feeling heat, he hoped he could make it
off the
porch. At the top of the stairs, panicked, he placed Salma
upright
again. She struggled to loosen the sheet around her. ?Are the
flames
here too?? Ayden asked. ?No, but there coming from behind.? At
the end
of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone. Neighbors could be
heard
coming from their own houses. A few ran up to Ayden and Salma
asking if
they were okay. Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the
roar of
flames. Salma held his hand as they waited in silence for the
sound of
sirens.
Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins?s police
cruiser.
The mid-morning sun warmed his face. Still shirtless, a blanket
draped
his shoulders. A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and he could
still
smell the smoke embracing his body. Once the firemen had
extinguished
the fire, Sheriff Jenkins and his deputy, a man about Ayden?s
age, drove
Salma and Ayden to the police station. Each gave a report before
Nick
was contacted. Salma approached Ayden now offering a cup of
water. He
gulped the cool liquid down as Salma rested her head against his
shoulder. Sniffing her hair laced with a flower scent and smoke,
Ayden
protectively placed an arm around her. ?Ayden,? Salma said in
quiet
surprise, ?Alice Whitley is here.? Ayden pulled the blanket
closed as he
waited for Alice to approach. A new scent filled his nostrils.
This
too smelled of flowers, but it was not the framiliar jasmine and
vanilla
Salma wore. Through the fog of his brain, he tried to place
where he
had smelled this scent before. ?I?m glad you two are alright,?
Alice
spoke quietly. ?I can?t believe this. Do you need anything??
?Thank
you, but we?re okay,? Salma said warmly. ?Pete phoned me this
morning-?
?Sheriff Jenkins? Why?? Ayden asked. Alice didn?t respond.
Waiting for
an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower scent that had
lingered
in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens. ?Alice,
did you
visit the house after we left you yesterday?? Alice made a noise
as
though she were suppressing it in her throat. She never answered
and
before Ayden could ask anything else, he heard her muffled
footsteps on
the grass as she walked briskly away. ?Ayden?? Salma puzzled.
?Her
perfume, it?s the same smell I noticed in the closet last night.?
?Ayden, that?s where I found the letter too,? Salma whispered.?
Ayden
heard the swish of grass as someone else walked towards them. It
was
Nick. ?Are you crazy?? Nick asked, bewildered. ?I?m fine. Nice
to see
you too, Dad.? Nick let out a long breath before saying, ?Your
mother
and I went crazy when we heard what happened. We?re glad you?re
okay.?
?Is the house ruined?? Ayden asked. Salma shifted and sat
upright next
to Ayden. ?It?s mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is
damage
to the house.? Ayden felt his chest tighten. The garden had been
Lucy?s
favorite place. Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and
tall
bushes as Lucy tended to her beloved flowers. Interrupting his
thoughts, Ayden heard a shuffling footstep approach. Another
memory
pushed itself front and center in his mind. As Sheriff Jenkins
stopped
his pace, Ayden gave him a hard look. ?Tom says it will take a
few weeks
to get reports back, but there is some structural damage to the
house,
Nick,? the sheriff said. ?Taken any midnight strolls to clear
your mind
lately?? Ayden directed to Sheriff Jenkins. No one spoke. Salma
gripped
his hand. ?Any reason why you?d call Alice Whitley early this
morning??
Ayden continued. ?Drop it,? Nick hissed at Ayden. Thrown off by
Nick?s
tone, Ayden squeezed Salma?s hand, unsure what to do. ?I?m sure
we?re
all tired and need to collect our thoughts,? Sheriff Jenkins
said.
?Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick.? Ayden heard the
lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
Ayden sat in front of the computer. A buzz issued from the
speakers as
JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command
Ayden
typed. ?Still working?? Salma asked from behind. Ayden leaned
his head
back against her stomach. She was wrapped in a large soft towel.
He
slipped his hand through the folds, but she turned swiftly away,
laughing. Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled.
?That
just turns me on more.? ?I called you a great big moron whose
brain is
the size of his-? ?Doesn?t matter. Still sounds sexy.? Salma
whipped
another towel at him before scampering to the bedroom. Turning
back to
his work, Ayden decided to check his email. As he clicked on the
necessary links using Hotkey commands, he thought over the past
few
weeks. Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said
that
everything was circumstantial. Ayden knew this, but he also knew
he had
opened something up. Something that had been meant to remain
secret.
Nick refused to open any investigation and he remained
tight-lipped
about anything he knew. The fire was officially reported as an
unknown
accident since no evidence, either way, had been found
determining a
cause. This, at least, was how the police report read. Ayden,
though,
had inquired into the fire-chief?s report. It too was
inconclusive, but
this report did mention that a match book had been found near the
premises. Salma had advised Ayden to wait before attempting any
further
investigation. Salma had been the reason he was able to let the
weeks
slip by without searching for more clues. Once they had returned
to the
city, Ayden had found the courage to express his budding feelings
towards Salma. They had sat on the couch talking; a typical
Friday night
for them, except this time Ayden could feel a growing
anticipation
between them. Salma had stood to get another beer from the
kitchen when
Ayden reached for her wrist. His large palm had felt bigger next
to her
slim wrist. Both had stared silently at one another. Ayden,
thinking
he would win this game since he couldn?t see, broke first.
Grinning
with a smirk, he had pulled Salma to him and kissed her. Three
weeks
later, their routine was continued as normal, yet something was
different. They had transitioned into this new element with
ease, as
though it were meant to be. Their friendship was strengthened by
the
new romance. Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name
given
for the first email he came across. Opening it up, he read the
following: Your journey has just begun, but it is advisable that
you
stop your investigation immediately. Heartache and harm can only
befall
you. Thank your luck and live long and well with your beautiful
new
love. There was no signature. Alarmed, Ayden checked the From
field,
but the only information this provided was
aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.
Ayden?s pulse quickened. Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the
room,
he closed the window he was in. He thought it was best to not
alarm her
just yet. Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a
bear hug,
Ayden knew this was just the beginning.
------------------------------
Message: 2
Date: Thu, 7 Oct 2010 22:58:25 -0500
From: Priscilla McKinley <priscilla.mckinley at gmail.com
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder"
some
language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID:
<AANLkTi=iDNLqd5JgFQGiLT8M3UKuuWAS2HjBP-P0NnBH at mail.gmail.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=windows-1252
Bridgit,
I really enjoyed reading your piece. I was very much engaged by
the
story. The only part I had issues with was the beginning. It
seems as
though too much history is packed into a few paragraphs. Perhaps
you
could incorporate some of the details in other parts and
introduce the
characters and stories as they come up? Plus, it might be
interesting
to let your readers wonder for a while what is going on, leading
them in
to discover that they are in the middle of an amateur murder
investigation.
Nice work!
Priscilla
On 10/7/10, Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com> wrote:
Hey guys,
I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an upper
lit
credit. We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would
share
mine with you. Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also,
I
wrote it in about a 12-our time span. Yes, I'm a
procrastinator!
*smile*
It was fun though so enjoy.
Bridgit P
Sense of Murder
Ayden sat in his father?s leather wingback chair rolling a large
key
between his fingers. The metal key had been cold, but now was
warmed
by his hands. He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb
across
the rough , rusty surface. Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely
been
researching the mysterious death of his grandfather for a book
he was
writing. Now, he sat among items wondering if his grandfather
had
been murdered. Ayden?s father, Nick, had found Henry, his
grandfather,
lying at the bottom of the staircase in his home. Nick never
spoke
about the incident after reporting it to the police. He would
not
speak to Ayden about Henry?s death either, but he was allowing
Ayden
and Salma to search through any items Nick kept. No one had
been sure
what happened. Lucy, Ayden?s grandmother, had been present too
when
Henry?s body was found. The police recorded the death as an
accidental fall. Many silently pointed fingers at Lucy though.
Lucy
had grown distraught during the past few months before Henry?s
death.
Friends and family reported that she had been distracted often
or in
an irritated mood. This was unlike the warm and tender
grandmother
Ayden had grown up with. When Nick found his father?s body,
Lucy had
gone wild, screaming, unable to leave Henry?s lifeless body.
Eventually Nick placed her in a care home. Here Lucy had
reached an
almost catatonic state until she too had passed. Gossips spread
the
news, sweeping far and wide. Lucy was crazy, they said. She
went mad,
she killed her husband. It was juicy, just what a small town
needed.
The police never looked into the possibility, but Lucy died with
a
scarlet letter attached to her memory. Ayden could never
believe that
Lucy would hurt anyone. Lucy had been fond of Ayden, guiding
him,
encouraging him. ?You?re so full of potential, Ayden. I can
see fire
in your eyes,? she used to tell him. When Ayden lost his
vision, Lucy
had been the one person who supported him, still encouraging.
For
years, though, there had been whispers of foul play, but no one
ever
spoke about the rumors. Vague insinuations were the closest
anyone
came to mentioning ?murder.? Ayden, though, had never played by
the
rules. His mother referred to him as the ?black sheep of the
family?
whenever she threw a dinner party. Ayden never felt like he fit
in
his family?s world of snobbish dinner parties, elite country
clubs and
preferential treatment at most Ivy League universities. He had
already been a disappointment to his family before a car
accident left
him blind. Seven-years later, Ayden had come to terms with his
blindness, but his family accepted him only out of duty. His
father
had been clear when saying, ?This condition of yours is not
suitable
for the courtroom, but the firm can take you on in a capacity
for
research, perhaps. Maybe a paralegal position will be
suitable.?
Ayden was not able to live with this attitude hanging over him.
After
completing his bachelor?s in literature, Ayden took up a career
writing for any newspapers or journals that accepted his
entries.
Writing for a small literary journal allowed Ayden to work on
his
novel which had turned into a fictionalized account of his
grandfather?s death. Asking his father for any information
about his
grandfather?s life, was the reason Ayden now sat in his father?s
study. He found more, he thought, than his father knew about
though.
?So what?s next?? Salma asked. Salma lived across the hall from
Ayden
in his building. They had become friends, and Salma now was
helping
him research his grandfather?s life. Tapping the key in his
palm,
Ayden said, ?I?m not sure. This letter says a lot.? Ayden
closed his
eyes thinking on this letter. It was evidence, even if
circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew about it, she could
have
killed Henry. There was a pause then paper crackled before
Salma
spoke. ?It?s pretty clear from this letter that your
grandfather was
having an affair. I wonder if we can figure out these initials,
A.
W.? Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to remember anyone he
had
ever met with A. W. for initials. ?I don?t know,? he sighed.
As Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they had
found
an old
copy of Wuthering Heights. Ayden remembered the year Henry had
given
the
third edition book to Lucy for Christmas. Lucy had sat
unwrapping the
gift,
then exclaimed, ?Oh,? before looking up with tears in her eyes.
Wuthering
Heights had always been her favorite novel. Lucy had been the
one
person to
encourage Ayden to follow his dream and take up writing instead
of
joining
the family law firm. ?You?re meant to follow your own path,?
Lucy had
told
Ayden once. Twenty-years later, Ayden and Salma found a letter
enclosed in
the pages of the book.
Ayden touched the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it
out to
Salma
to inspect. She told him the letter appeared old, but not as
old as
the
book. A few of the torn edges of the letter were turning
yellow. The
letter was simple as she read:
Henry, my love,
I can not wait to see you again. I hoped and when I saw you
coming
down the
road, my heart leaped. I still feel your touch. How much
longer must
we
wait? Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is too
late.
Love, A. W.
?What now? Where do we go next?? Salma asked.
Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him. ?We visit
the
old
Templeton mansion.?
The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home Henry and Lucy had
lived
in for
years. The family still owned it, but it had sat empty for
years.
Ayden
thought that maybe more secrets were hidden within the walls of
the
Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove. Neither spoke as Ayden?s
fingers
slid across the pages on his lap. Reading his Braille notes,
Ayden
wondered where to start once they reached the small town where
his
grandparents and father had grown up. Henry had started a small
law
firm in town, but eventually it grew. Henry and Lucy had moved
when
Nick had been ten. Nick never spoke about his childhood though.
Ayden really didn?t know much about his family?s past. Lucy and
Henry
had moved back to their old house once Nick took the firm over,
but
Ayden had rarely visited the home. After Henry had died, Lucy,
unable
to cope with his death, had moved into an upscale nursing home
in the
City, and Nick left the house untouched. The house had sat
empty now
for ten years. As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma.
?Are we
there?? ?Yes. What?s our first stop?? ?I?m figuring this out as
we
go along. I guess the police station.? Salma was silent before
saying, ?You okay? I know your dad wasn?t happy.? Ayden had
questioned his father about the letter, but Nick had gone quiet
and
cold before telling Ayden, ?Leave it alone. We don?t dig up
family
history.? Ayden tried to coax Nick to say more, but the subject
was
closed. ?Yeah. I wish he would have told us more. Explained
something,? Ayden said.
?Maybe he just wants to keep your family secrets, well, secret.
Some
people
don?t like giving out info about anything.?
?I just feel like he knows more than he?s letting on. Mom just
played
dumb
too.?
?We?ll find something. Don?t worry.?
Salma was always reassuring Ayden. She had become a constant in
his
life.
The only real constant he had. She had shown up one day,
knocking on
his
door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden some home made
enchiladas.
That had been the beginning of their friendship. They had spent
many
nights talking until three in the morning and hanging out on
weekends.
Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside world.
Once
moving
away from his family, he had become a recluse of sorts. He
showed up
to the
office for work, attended cocktail parties required for work and
even
dated
a couple of girls, but Salma was the one person he truly felt
comfortable
with. Her infectious way of always looking at things positively
seemed like
a novelty to Ayden. She could always make him smile. When he
began
writing
the book about Henry, Salma had offered to assist in anyway she
could.
?I?m really glad you?re here,? Ayden said.
?Yeah, yeah. I?m waiting for my pay check.? Salma giggled as
she
pulled into a parking stall. ?I think we?re here.? While Salma
dropped coins into the parking meter, Ayden tapped his cane
along the
brick walls looking for the door. Hearing the clink of glass as
his
cane tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door. ?No Braille, is
this
it?? he shouted back to Salma. ?I believe so,? she answered
rushing to
catch up. They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere
of the
police station. Ayden moved towards the sound of clacking as
some one
pressed keys on a computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency.
This, he thought, must be a reception desk.
Stepping up to a smooth feeling counter, Ayden said, ?Excuse
me.?
?Can I help you?? a woman?s bored voice said.
?We were wondering if we can speak to some one who worked the
Henry
Templeton case,? Ayden said.
The woman stopped typing and a long silence followed. ?Who?s
asking??
?I?m Ayden Templeton, Henry?s grandson.?
?One minute.? A chair creaked as the woman stood. Her shoes
clacked
as she
walked away.
Salma touched Ayden?s arm. ?She had a weird look when you
mentioned
your
grandpa?s name.?
Ayden said nothing, not sure what he was doing there in the
first
place.
The woman?s shoes clacked once more as she returned. Another
footstep
joined hers, but this person shuffled slightly.
The person shuffled towards Salma, saying, ?Hello. I?m Sheriff
Jenkins.
How can I help you??
Ayden stepped closer towards Salma, extending his arm to Sheriff
Jenkins.
?I?m Ayden Templeton and this is Salma Juarez. We have some
questions
about
my grandfather?s death.?
There was a pause before Sheriff Jenkins shook Ayden?s hand.
?Step
into my
office please.?
Ayden followed the sheriff into a room off the main section of
the
department. His cane swep the inside of the door frame,
indicating
the
width so Ayden avoided bumping into the edges of the frame.
Ayden
asked
where a chair was and turned in the direction Captain Jenkins
indicated.
Once again, his cane found the chair and sliding the cane across
the
seat,
Ayden determined where the front of the chair was. Salma?s arm
brushed his
as she sat next to him.
?Can I get you anything?? Sheriff Jenkins asked.
?No, but thank you. Salma??
?I?m good,? Salma replied.
Ayden felt a tension fill the room as the three sat there, not
speaking.
Sheriff Jenkins began tapping the edge of the metal table in the
interrogation room. Ayden twisted his cane between his fingers.
Salma
bobbed her foot which was lightly kicking Ayden?s shin.
?We?re hoping to learn as much as we can about Henry Templeton?s
death. I?m
researching the story for a novel I?m working on,? Ayden
started.
?I worked the case. There?s not much to tell,? Sheriff Jenkins
said.
?I know you eventually reported it as an accidental death, but
was
there
ever any evidence suggesting otherwise?? Ayden asked.
?No. We questioned friends and family and there was no reason
to
believe
Henry Templeton was murdered,? Sheriff Jenkins said sharply.
Ayden shifted his head towards Salma before saying, ?I know
there
was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it.?
?Lucy Baldwin? She never hurt anyone. We were all shocked when
she
married
Henry. She could have had anyone she wanted.?
Ayden leaned against the table looking straight in the direction
where
Sheriff Jenkins sat. ?I thought Henry was a catch? You know, a
lawyer from
a wealthy family.?
?He was a playboy. Always was, never changed.?
?Who did you question about his death?? Salma broke in.
The sheriff?s chair creaked as he leaned back. ?Well, of course
Lucy
and
her boy Nick. They were there. Found his body and all.?
Ayden shot the sheriff a questioning glance. He was talking
like he
had
forgot who Ayden was.
?Then there was Zelda, the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he came
around
about once a week to help Lucy with the lawn. She loved her
garden.
Her
roses won prizes around here,? Sheriff Jenkins continued.
?Anyone else?? Ayden asked.
?Oh, his work associates, but Henry was retired so they didn?t
see
much of
him anymore. Alice Whitley, she had been his personal secretary
for
years.
She still did stuff part-time for Henry.?
Ayden had pulled out a three-by-five plastic device that had six
rows
of
cells containing three holes on each side of the cells. A
pop-pop-pop
sound
was made as Ayden poked a pointed awl-like object called a
stylus
through
the holes as he took Braille notes. ?Are any of these people
still
around??
?Not everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton?s to
leave
town.
Other than Henry?s work associates, I think most of them still
live
around
here. At least the one?s who are still alive.?
?Is there anything else you can tell us? Was there anything
strange
you
noticed? Any evidence that suggest something other than an
accidental
tumble down the stairs??
The sheriff laughed. ?I know you city folk like to dream up
seedy
happenings in small towns, but Henry Templeton?s death was
nothing
more than
an accident. Nothing dark about it.?
?Thank you for your time,? Ayden said extending his hand again
to
shake
Sheriff Jenkins?s.
Sheriff Jenkins sighed. ?Look, don?t go digging anything up.
Just
let the
dead rest.?
Salma?s bracelet tinkled as they stood.
?We understand. I?m just trying to find things out about my
grandfather for
the book. You know, no stone uncovered,? Ayden said.
?Are you two married?? Sheriff Jenkins asked.
Ayden, confused by the switch, replied, ?No.?
The sheriff chuckled. ?Like your grandpa, I see.?
Ayden blushed, but Salma said, ?Ayden is nothing but a
gentleman.
Clearly
something he did not pick up in this town.?
?I know the kind of men the Templeton?s are,? the sheriff said.
Unsure of what to do, Ayden turned to leave.
?At least he has a better chance of touching what you have been
admiring
this whole time,? Salma snapped. She turned quickly and Ayden
felt a
rush
of breeze as she left the room.
Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
?I?m sorry. I didn?t know what to say.?
?It?s okay. He was a pig.?
?I didn?t realize-?
?I know, its okay. Where to next??
Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone. ?The
house, I
guess.? As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of
traffic,
Ayden wondered why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had.
Was it
simply said in a moment of anger, or was there any truth in her
words,
he thought. He has a better chance of touching what you have
been
admiring. For the first time, Ayden thought of the
possibilities with
Salma.
Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it had
been
during the few visits he had made during his childhood. The
house had
always stood out even among the street full of bright, cheery
houses
complete with emerald lawns and award winning gardens. The
Templeton
house had a wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening
onto
a large lawn complete with a British garden. Its three stories
reached majestically towards the sky.
Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house. The
feel of
the railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark
wooden
banister. The stairs creaked as he stepped on them. Reaching
the
porch, he felt a slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear
of
falling through the porch. Children played nearby and cars
languidly
drove down the street, but a strange silence surrounded the
house. It
was as though Ayden were underneath water trying to make out the
distant sounds. The scent of jasmine passed briefly through his
nose
as Salma stood next to him. ?How does it look?? Ayden asked
ignoring
the scent. Salma took a deep breath. ?It?s run down, that?s
for sure.
I can?t believe no one has lived here for years.? ?My family
still
owns it, but after my grandfather?s death, no one wanted to do
anything about it.? Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of
the
dilapidated Victorian house. He dug in his pockets for the
rusty key
he had found in his father?s office. As he inserted the heavy
key in
the lock, a quiet click was heard. Ayden pushed the solid door
open.
He looked in Salma?s direction before stepping inside. Shutting
the
door, the house engulfed all sound like a tomb.
?Creepy,? Salma said as she shivered.
Ayden walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide so
as to
not
run into anything. Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as he
inhaled.
?This has been sitting for years,? Ayden rasped. ?What?s it
look
like??
Salma looked around. ?It?s really dark, but it?s almost
completely
empty.
What do you think you?ll find??
?I?m not sure. Sheriff Jenkins wasn?t much help. I just
thought,
maybe
something??
Salma?s sandals clipped-clopped as she walked over to a window
to open
it.
?Well, if we are going to be here long we need fresh air.?
Ayden felt a rush of summer breeze as the window clambered up.
The
sound of
kids jumping rope ruined the house?s stolid silence. Life
entered the
house
again as Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue.
Salma clumped up the stairs as Ayden moved from room to room
feeling
walls
and any remaining furniture, hoping to find something, anything.
He
rifled
through drawers and cupboards. So far his hands had only found
dust
and
cobwebs.
?Ayden, Ayden!? Salma shouted a couple of hours later.
Ayden hurried towards the staircase. ?Salma! Are you okay??
?Get up here! I found something!?
Ayden clambered up the grand staircase. Reaching the top, he
shouted,
?What
room??
?Um, it?s a bedroom.?
Hearing her voice off to his left, Ayden moved down the hallway.
At
the
end, he found a door open.
?Salma??
Salma?s clapping sandals moved towards Ayden.
?Look at this,? she said excitedly. Her bracelet tinkled and
paper
crackled
as she shoved something in Ayden?s hand.
Ayden grinned. ?Um?? He handed the paper back to Salma.
?Oh-sorry. I just-you won?t believe this.?
It was another letter; a love letter to Henry.
Henry, My love,
I miss you. I grow restless with each day. I have waited years
to be
with
you, really be with you. Let?s stop the pretending, stop the
lies.
Don?t
be mad with me. I would do anything for you, but we must stop
hiding.
There is no harm in this. I will wait to hear from you, but
don?t
take
long.
Love,
A. W.
Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath. Ayden was
not
quite
sure what her excitement was for.
?We already know Henry was having an affair of sorts,? he said.
Salma sighed impatiently. ?Ayden, think about it. Don?t you
see??
?Not really,? he said slowly.
She grabbed his wrist. Her slender fingers gripped him with a
strength
Ayden would not have guessed at. She moved in closer and once
again,
Ayden
took in the scent of jasmine. This time he smelled something
else
with it.
Vanilla, he thought. Salma shook his arm slightly bringing him
back
to
attention.
?Ayden, A. W. Don?t you see it yet??
?A. W.??
?The initials,? she said exasperated, ?A. W. Alice Whitley.?
?Who?s Alice Whitley??
Salma smacked her forehead. ?Ay-where are your notes from
today??
Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from his back
pocket.
?Now read through it,? Salma said as though talking to a small
child.
Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked sharply up
at
Salma.
?See?? Salma asked.
?I can?t believe we didn?t realize it then. His secretary. And
Sheriff
Jenkins said she?s still living in town.?
?Think we can find her??
?Give me a minute,? Ayden said reaching for his mobile phone
tucked
away in
his pocket.
An electronic hum came from his phone as he maneuvered through
the
menus on
his phone. A screen-reading program specific to mobile phones,
helped
Ayden
utilize the functions on his phone.
?Got it. There?s only one Alice Whitley that shows up in town.?
?Thank God for technology,? Salma said. ?No wonder no one could
ever
solve
this case.?
Ayden smirked at her. ?Thank God for accessible technology.
Come on.
She
doesn?t live far from here and it?s not too late.?
Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door. The house
was
less substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described
its
well-kempt lawn and cheery exterior. The door opened and a
woman?s
voice gasped, ?Oh.? ?Miss Whitley? I?m Ayden-?
?Templeton,? she said. ?You look like Henry.?
Smiling, Ayden said, ?Miss Whitley, this is my friend Salma.
We?re
working
on a book about my grandfather, and we would like to ask you
some
questions.?
?Oh, of course. Come in, come in.?
As the door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower
scent
that he
couldn?t place and a clock ticked nearby. Alice Whitley ushered
them
into a
sitting room off the entryway. Salma sat next to Ayden on the
soft
couch
while Alice sat across from them.
?Can I offer you anything? I just made lemonade.?
?That would be wonderful,? Salma said.
As Alice left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma. ?I?m sorry,
I
didn?t
even think to ask if you were hungry.?
?Hon, it?s okay. I didn?t think about it myself until now.?
?We?ll have dinner after this; I promise.?
?Promise??
Ayden grinned as Alice returned. She placed an ice-cold glass
in
Ayden?s
hand. Ice chinked against the side as he took a gulp. The cold
liquid felt
good down his throat after the dust of his family?s house. He
could
only
imagine how dirty he and Salma looked. He felt the mingled
grime of
sweat
and dirt on his body. Why had it not occurred to them to stop
somewhere
first and wash up, Ayden thought.
?So, what can I help you with? Henry was a dear friend and I
miss
him. You
must call me Alice.?
?Well, Alice, we specifically are interested in his death,?
Ayden
said.
Alice choked on her lemonade. ?Why would you be interested in
that??
?I believe that maybe his death wasn?t accidental.?
?Oh dear, don?t buy into those silly rumors. Pete Jenkins
conducted a
thorough investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at.?
?And yet the rumors persist,? Ayden said.
?Silly gossip. Housewives bored out of there minds.?
?You know Sheriff Jenkins?? Ayden asked.
?Darling, it?s a town of ten-thousand; everybody knows
everybody.?
Ayden sipped on his lemonade as Salma clicked her nails against
the
side of
her glass.
?We have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story,?
Ayden
said.
He affected his best courtroom demeanor. He had seen his father
like
this
hundreds of times.
Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her glass. Her voice had
lost
some of
its cheeriness when she responded by asking, ?What makes you say
that??
Ayden found the love letter in a folder. He removed the Braille
label,
setting the letter on the coffee table dividing Ayden and Salma
from
Alice.
The room grew still. The letter rustled as Alice picked it up.
When
she
spoke, she sounded choked as though she were holding back tears.
?Where did you find this??
?It was in some old boxes in the Templeton home,? Salma said.
A long silence followed in which Ayden could hear Alice
sniffling.
?I suppose the truth has to come out sooner or later,? Alice
said
quietly.
?We don?t need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason to
think
Henry
was killed?? Ayden soothed.
?Your grandfather hired me when I was eighteen,? Alice began,
ignoring
Ayden. ?I instantly fell in love with him, but he was that
type.
Dashingly
handsome, charming to a fault. He was a few years older than
me, but
I knew
how all the girls waited for their chance to rope Henry into
marriage.
I
felt so lucky to see him everyday. I started out as a simple
receptionist,
but eventually he promoted me to his personal secretary.?
?Did you move with my grandparents then, when they moved?? Ayden
asked.
Alice sighed. ?Yes, but after-things happened-I moved back. I
remained in
his employ, working from the office here in town. Before your
father
took
charge, Henry?s headquarters had always been based from here.?
Ayden nodded his head.
?I never meant to hurt anyone. Things happened. Henry loved us
both,
Lucy
and I. I tried to end it for years, but Henry always showed up
with
that
smile of his. Then I tried to make him choose. I should?ve
known
better,
but I was in love.?
Alice continued to spill her story, hoping for redemption
perhaps.
?The final straw came right before his death. We had carried on
for
almost
forty-years and I knew it had to stop. We fought. I threatened
to
tell
Lucy and that was that. He left me promising to choose. I
waited for
an
answer, but a week later, Henry was found dead.?
?Did you ever tell anyone?? Ayden asked.
?No.?
Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice?s house. A
breeze
tousled Ayden?s hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through
his
dark tresses. ?Seems like all you Templeton men are
irresistible,? she
said teasingly. Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he
grinned,
but before he could make a remark, Ayden heard her car door
click
open. He slid into the passenger seat, heart pounding. ?You
promised
me dinner,? Salma whined playfully.
After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and
Salma
found themselves walking through the downtown area. Salma kept
up
with Ayden?s stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc.
?Sometimes I think it would be nice to live in a small town,?
Salma
mused. ?Really, you? Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day,?
Ayden
joked. ?I could drive to the city. I don?t know. It seems
like a
nice place to raise a family.? Ayden had never heard Salma speak
about
kids or families. As well as he knew her, Ayden realized there
was
plenty he still had to learn about Salma. ?Yes, we could raise
happy
little kids who will grow up to cheat, lie and murder,? Ayden
scoffed.
?We, huh??
Ayden blushed, feeling the heat creep up his neck to his face.
He
hadn?t
caught his blunder. He sputtered, but before he could make
sense of
his
words, Salma grabbed his hand.
?Maybe we can live in the Templeton mansion,? she said.
They walked silently back to the car.
?It?s pretty late, what should we do?? Salma asked.
Ayden flipped the crystal face of his watch up. Feeling the
raised
dots and
arrows with his pointer finger on his Braille watch, he said,
?It?s a
quarter to eleven. I?m beat.?
?Me too. I don?t really feel like driving back tonight though.?
Ayden scratched his head. ?I guess we can stay at
casa-de-Templeton.?
?Okay, but no funny business,? Salma joked.
Sitting in the car, Ayden said, ?By the way, unlike some men in
my
family,
I?m more of a one-woman type.?
They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master
bedroom.
?Sure you don?t want to sleep in another room?? Ayden asked.
?Hell no!
This house is creepy.? ?I thought you wanted to raise children
here??
?Shut-up. Scared to sleep with a girl?? The bed creaked as
Salma lay
down
on it. ?A bit musty.?
They had found spare bed linens in a box and had attempted to
shake
them out
as best they could. Ayden had noticed a lingering wispy scent
of
flowers
that he could not place. It may have been the remnants of
something
used to
launder the linens years ago, he had thought.
Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and handed it to
Salma.
?Here.
You can wrap your pillow in it.?
?Thanks,? Salma said drawing the word out.
Realizing what he had just done, he blushed for the millionth
time
that day.
Not able to turn back what he had done, Ayden lay slowly down,
sticking
close to the edge.
?Keep your hands above the blankets,? Salma yawned.
Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly
dawned as
he felt Salma?s small body nestled against his. She snored
quietly
and Ayden smiled. This was nice, he thought. He extracted
himself
gently from the bed, trying to not wake Salma. He needed to use
the
bathroom, but it struck him that the bathrooms would not be in
working
order. It was primitive, but it would have to do, he thought as
he
found his way downstairs and out into the back garden. Hoping
no
neighbors were awake to see him, he relieved himself. Half
asleep
still, his eyes snapped open as a slight shuffle came from
behind him.
Finished with his midnight chore, he listened intently, but no
sound
came again. He turned around, gripping his cane in one hand.
?Hello,?
he said. No response came. He turned back towards the house
and as he
walked, Ayden felt his back tingle. It was the sensation he
felt as a
child when terrified, feeling a presence behind him. He was an
adult
now, he chided himself. Forcing himself to walk calmly back
into the
house, he reached the French doors and entered. As he went to
shut
the doors, a soft shuffle started in the darkness again. It
could
have been the long dead foliage rustling in the breeze, but
Ayden
placed himself in the doorway again. The noise instantly
stopped.
Slamming the door and locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs,
taking
three
steps at a time. Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears,
Ayden
felt a
cool breeze cut through the stuffy air of the bedroom. DeMint,
he
swore to
himself. They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping to
air
out
their lodgings for the night.
Salma still was sleeping peacefully on the bed. He sat on the
bed
resting
his head on the large carved headboard, listening.
Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the leaves of
trees
from
time to time. Salma continued her snoring. Silence loomed
around the
house. Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again or a step
on the
stairs, but nothing came. He relaxed after fifteen minutes of
vigilante
guarding.
Laying back down on the bed, one arm behind his head, he smiled
when
Salma
threw an arm across his chest. Thinking only of Salma by now,
Ayden
drifted
back off to sleep.
The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something
was not
right. Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but an
acrid
odor filled his nostrils. A loud crack made him bolt up in bed.
?Salma! There?s a fire!? He shook her until she woke up. ?We
need to
get out of here,? Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a
conscience
state. Ayden flew to the open door. Smoke filled his nose and
made
his eyes water. ?Salma, I can?t tell if we can make it down the
stairs.? Standing next to him, she said, ?All I can see is
smoke. Can
we jump out the window??
?We?re on the second floor. It?s pretty high up.?
Now across the room, Ayden heard Salma cry, ?Oh-my-god! Ayden!?
?What??
?I can see flames around the base of the house.?
?Shit.? Trying to think, Ayden gathered up the sheet from the
bed.
Dousing
it with water from the couple bottles purchased last night, he
threw
the
sheet at Salma. ?Wrap yourself in this.?
?Why??
?Just do it.?
Making sure her long hair was covered, Ayden threw Salma over
his
shoulder.
Grabbing his cane by the door, he moved into the hallway.
Hoping the
shirt
tied around his face would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top
of the
stairs. Despite the situation, Ayden could not help notice the
harlequin-romance-like predicament.
He heard Salma say something, but her face was muffled and he
could
not
understand her. Tucking his cane underneath his arm, he groped
the
banister
which still seemed intact. Finally reaching the bottom, he
found his
way to
the front door and opened it. A rush of fresh air greeted him.
Feeling
heat, he hoped he could make it off the porch. At the top of
the
stairs,
panicked, he placed Salma upright again. She struggled to
loosen the
sheet
around her.
?Are the flames here too?? Ayden asked.
?No, but there coming from behind.?
At the end of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone.
Neighbors
could be
heard coming from their own houses. A few ran up to Ayden and
Salma
asking
if they were okay.
Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the roar of flames.
Salma
held his
hand as they waited in silence for the sound of sirens.
Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins?s police
cruiser.
The mid-morning sun warmed his face. Still shirtless, a blanket
draped his shoulders. A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and
he
could still smell the smoke embracing his body. Once the
firemen had
extinguished the fire, Sheriff Jenkins and his deputy, a man
about
Ayden?s age, drove Salma and Ayden to the police station. Each
gave a
report before Nick was contacted. Salma approached Ayden now
offering
a cup of water. He gulped the cool liquid down as Salma rested
her
head against his shoulder. Sniffing her hair laced with a
flower
scent and smoke, Ayden protectively placed an arm around her.
?Ayden,? Salma said in quiet surprise, ?Alice Whitley is here.?
Ayden pulled the blanket closed as he waited for Alice to
approach. A
new
scent filled his nostrils. This too smelled of flowers, but it
was
not the
framiliar jasmine and vanilla Salma wore. Through the fog of
his
brain, he
tried to place where he had smelled this scent before.
?I?m glad you two are alright,? Alice spoke quietly. ?I can?t
believe
this.
Do you need anything??
?Thank you, but we?re okay,? Salma said warmly.
?Pete phoned me this morning-?
?Sheriff Jenkins? Why?? Ayden asked.
Alice didn?t respond.
Waiting for an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower scent
that
had
lingered in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens.
?Alice, did you visit the house after we left you yesterday??
Alice made a noise as though she were suppressing it in her
throat.
She
never answered and before Ayden could ask anything else, he
heard her
muffled footsteps on the grass as she walked briskly away.
?Ayden?? Salma puzzled.
?Her perfume, it?s the same smell I noticed in the closet last
night.?
?Ayden, that?s where I found the letter too,? Salma whispered.?
Ayden heard the swish of grass as someone else walked towards
them.
It was
Nick.
?Are you crazy?? Nick asked, bewildered.
?I?m fine. Nice to see you too, Dad.?
Nick let out a long breath before saying, ?Your mother and I
went
crazy when
we heard what happened. We?re glad you?re okay.?
?Is the house ruined?? Ayden asked.
Salma shifted and sat upright next to Ayden.
?It?s mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is damage to
the
house.?
Ayden felt his chest tighten. The garden had been Lucy?s
favorite
place.
Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and tall bushes as
Lucy
tended
to her beloved flowers. Interrupting his thoughts, Ayden heard
a
shuffling
footstep approach. Another memory pushed itself front and
center in
his
mind. As Sheriff Jenkins stopped his pace, Ayden gave him a
hard
look.
?Tom says it will take a few weeks to get reports back, but
there is
some
structural damage to the house, Nick,? the sheriff said.
?Taken any midnight strolls to clear your mind lately?? Ayden
directed
to
Sheriff Jenkins.
No one spoke. Salma gripped his hand.
?Any reason why you?d call Alice Whitley early this morning??
Ayden
continued.
?Drop it,? Nick hissed at Ayden.
Thrown off by Nick?s tone, Ayden squeezed Salma?s hand, unsure
what to
do.
?I?m sure we?re all tired and need to collect our thoughts,?
Sheriff
Jenkins
said. ?Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick.? Ayden
heard
the
lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
Ayden sat in front of the computer. A buzz issued from the
speakers
as JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command
Ayden
typed. ?Still working?? Salma asked from behind. Ayden leaned
his head
back against her stomach. She was wrapped in a large soft
towel. He
slipped his hand through the folds, but she turned swiftly away,
laughing. Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled.
?That
just turns me on more.?
?I called you a great big moron whose brain is the size of his-?
?Doesn?t matter. Still sounds sexy.?
Salma whipped another towel at him before scampering to the
bedroom.
Turning back to his work, Ayden decided to check his email.
As he clicked on the necessary links using Hotkey commands, he
thought
over
the past few weeks.
Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said that
everything
was
circumstantial. Ayden knew this, but he also knew he had opened
something
up. Something that had been meant to remain secret. Nick
refused to
open
any investigation and he remained tight-lipped about anything he
knew.
The fire was officially reported as an unknown accident since no
evidence,
either way, had been found determining a cause. This, at least,
was
how the
police report read. Ayden, though, had inquired into the
fire-chief?s
report. It too was inconclusive, but this report did mention
that a
match
book had been found near the premises. Salma had advised Ayden
to
wait
before attempting any further investigation.
Salma had been the reason he was able to let the weeks slip by
without
searching for more clues. Once they had returned to the city,
Ayden
had
found the courage to express his budding feelings towards Salma.
They had sat on the couch talking; a typical Friday night for
them,
except
this time Ayden could feel a growing anticipation between them.
Salma
had
stood to get another beer from the kitchen when Ayden reached
for her
wrist.
His large palm had felt bigger next to her slim wrist. Both had
stared
silently at one another. Ayden, thinking he would win this game
since
he
couldn?t see, broke first. Grinning with a smirk, he had pulled
Salma
to
him and kissed her.
Three weeks later, their routine was continued as normal, yet
something was
different. They had transitioned into this new element with
ease, as
though
it were meant to be. Their friendship was strengthened by the
new
romance.
Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name given for
the
first
email he came across. Opening it up, he read the following:
Your journey has just begun, but it is advisable that you stop
your
investigation immediately. Heartache and harm can only befall
you.
Thank
your luck and live long and well with your beautiful new love.
There was no signature. Alarmed, Ayden checked the From field,
but
the only
information this provided was aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.
Ayden?s
pulse
quickened. Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the room, he
closed
the
window he was in. He thought it was best to not alarm her just
yet.
Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a bear hug,
Ayden
knew this
was just the beginning.
_______________________________________________
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http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/priscill
a.mck
inley%40gmail.com
------------------------------
Message: 3
Date: Fri, 8 Oct 2010 07:53:42 -0400
From: "Joe Orozco" <jsorozco at gmail.com
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder"
some
language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID: <8CB6CFF16AAB48FDBCFCFE4B7CB7F925 at Rufus
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
Bridgit,
Excellent writing as always. For me, there are only a couple
comments.
First, there seemed to be too many issues wrestling for center
stage.
This is part of the restriction of a short story, but I felt
tumbled
about a little attempting to debate between attaching to the
romantic
plot, his blindness abilities, and the mystery. I guess I'd
rather have
a center element that captures me and holds me from beginning to
end.
Second, because the story moves at a fleeting clip, I wonder if
you
could rearrange the events a little. Perhaps you could start
with Aiden
and Salma meeting with an unidentified person, flash back to the
unfolding events and then return to the present where the suspect
is
revealed? I guess I'm looking for something that would package
the
story in the same length but rearrange it so that the meal feels
more
balanced. Finally, and this just might show my ignorance, but
although
I don't mind hanging conclusions, I really have no idea how the
plot was
resolved. Right now I think the sheriff may have been
responsible, but
then, funny business about his father not pursuing an
investigation.
Maybe this was the point, to keep people guessing, but with
multiple
themes going on, I guess I'd like the presumed main theme to be
resolved. All of this having been said, I really enjoyed the way
Ayden's being blind did not detract from the general painting of
the
setting. If the narrator is going to be so descriptive about
Ayden's
other blindness skills, I may have described people's voices a
little
more in the dialogue, but all in all, this was a great way to
start my
Friday. Great job.
Best,
Joe
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at
all."--Sam
Ewing
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Priscilla
McKinley
Sent: Thursday, October 07, 2010 11:58 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of
Murder" some language, alludes to sexual content
Bridgit,
I really enjoyed reading your piece. I was very much engaged by
the
story. The only part I had issues with was the beginning. It
seems as
though too much history is packed into a few paragraphs. Perhaps
you
could incorporate some of the details in other parts and
introduce the
characters and stories as they come up? Plus, it might be
interesting
to let your readers wonder for a while what is going on, leading
them in
to discover that they are in the middle of an amateur murder
investigation.
Nice work!
Priscilla
On 10/7/10, Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com> wrote:
Hey guys,
I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an
upper lit credit.
We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would share
mine with you.
Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also, I wrote it in
about a
12-our time span. Yes, I'm a procrastinator! *smile*
It was fun though so enjoy.
Bridgit P
Sense of Murder
Ayden sat in his father's leather wingback chair rolling a
large key between
his fingers. The metal key had been cold, but now was warmed
by his hands.
He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb across the
rough , rusty
surface. Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely been researching
the mysterious
death of his grandfather for a book he was writing. Now, he
sat among items
wondering if his grandfather had been murdered.
Ayden's father, Nick, had found Henry, his grandfather, lying
at the bottom
of the staircase in his home. Nick never spoke about the
incident after
reporting it to the police. He would not speak to Ayden
about Henry's death
either, but he was allowing Ayden and Salma to search through
any items Nick
kept.
No one had been sure what happened. Lucy, Ayden's
grandmother, had been
present too when Henry's body was found. The police recorded
the death as
an accidental fall. Many silently pointed fingers at Lucy
though.
Lucy had grown distraught during the past few months before
Henry's death.
Friends and family reported that she had been distracted
often or in an
irritated mood. This was unlike the warm and tender
grandmother Ayden had
grown up with.
When Nick found his father's body, Lucy had gone wild,
screaming, unable to
leave Henry's lifeless body. Eventually Nick placed her in a
care home.
Here Lucy had reached an almost catatonic state until she too
had passed.
Gossips spread the news, sweeping far and wide. Lucy was
crazy, they said.
She went mad, she killed her husband. It was juicy, just
what a small town
needed. The police never looked into the possibility, but
Lucy died with a
scarlet letter attached to her memory. Ayden could never
believe that Lucy
would hurt anyone. Lucy had been fond of Ayden, guiding him,
encouraging
him. "You're so full of potential, Ayden. I can see fire in
your eyes,"
she used to tell him. When Ayden lost his vision, Lucy had
been the one
person who supported him, still encouraging.
For years, though, there had been whispers of foul play, but
no one ever
spoke about the rumors. Vague insinuations were the closest
anyone came to
mentioning "murder." Ayden, though, had never played by the
rules. His
mother referred to him as the "black sheep of the family"
whenever she threw
a dinner party. Ayden never felt like he fit in his family's
world of
snobbish dinner parties, elite country clubs and preferential
treatment at
most Ivy League universities. He had already been a
disappointment to his
family before a car accident left him blind. Seven-years
later, Ayden had
come to terms with his blindness, but his family accepted him
only out of
duty. His father had been clear when saying, "This condition
of yours is
not suitable for the courtroom, but the firm can take you on
in a capacity
for research, perhaps. Maybe a paralegal position will be
suitable."
Ayden was not able to live with this attitude hanging over him.
After
completing his bachelor's in literature, Ayden took up a
career writing for
any newspapers or journals that accepted his entries.
Writing for a small
literary journal allowed Ayden to work on his novel which had
turned into a
fictionalized account of his grandfather's death. Asking his
father for any
information about his grandfather's life, was the reason
Ayden now sat in
his father's study. He found more, he thought, than his
father knew about
though.
"So what's next?" Salma asked. Salma lived across the hall
from Ayden in
his building. They had become friends, and Salma now was
helping him
research his grandfather's life. Tapping the key in his palm,
Ayden
said, "I'm not sure. This
letter says a
lot."
Ayden closed his eyes thinking on this letter. It was
evidence, even if
circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew about it, she
could have killed
Henry.
There was a pause then paper crackled before Salma spoke.
"It's pretty
clear from this letter that your grandfather was having an
affair. I wonder
if we can figure out these initials, A. W."
Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to remember anyone he
had ever met with
A. W. for initials. "I don't know," he sighed.
As Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they
had found an old
copy of Wuthering Heights. Ayden remembered the year Henry
had given the
third edition book to Lucy for Christmas. Lucy had sat
unwrapping the gift,
then exclaimed, "Oh," before looking up with tears in her
eyes. Wuthering
Heights had always been her favorite novel. Lucy had been
the one person to
encourage Ayden to follow his dream and take up writing
instead of joining
the family law firm. "You're meant to follow your own path,"
Lucy had told
Ayden once. Twenty-years later, Ayden and Salma found a
letter enclosed in
the pages of the book.
Ayden touched the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it
out to Salma
to inspect. She told him the letter appeared old, but not as
old as the
book. A few of the torn edges of the letter were turning
yellow. The
letter was simple as she read: Henry, my love,
I can not wait to see you again. I hoped and when I saw you
coming down the
road, my heart leaped. I still feel your touch. How much
longer must we
wait? Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is too
late.
Love, A. W. "What now? Where do we go next?" Salma asked.
Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him. "We
visit the old
Templeton mansion."
The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home Henry and Lucy
had lived in for
years. The family still owned it, but it had sat empty for
years. Ayden
thought that maybe more secrets were hidden within the walls of
the
Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove. Neither spoke as
Ayden's fingers slid
across the pages on his lap. Reading his Braille notes,
Ayden wondered
where to start once they reached the small town where his
grandparents and
father had grown up. Henry had started a small law firm in
town, but
eventually it grew. Henry and Lucy had moved when Nick had
been ten. Nick
never spoke about his childhood though. Ayden really didn't
know much about
his family's past. Lucy and Henry had moved back to their
old house once
Nick took the firm over, but Ayden had rarely visited the
home. After Henry
had died, Lucy, unable to cope with his death, had moved into
an upscale
nursing home in the City, and Nick left the house untouched.
The house had
sat empty now for ten years.
As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma. "Are we there?"
"Yes.
What's our first stop?" "I'm figuring this out as we go along.
I
guess the police station." Salma was silent before saying, "You
okay?
I know your dad
wasn't happy."
Ayden had questioned his father about the letter, but Nick
had gone quiet
and cold before telling Ayden, "Leave it alone. We don't dig
up family
history."
Ayden tried to coax Nick to say more, but the subject was
closed.
"Yeah. I wish he would have told us more. Explained
something," Ayden
said.
"Maybe he just wants to keep your family secrets, well,
secret. Some people
don't like giving out info about anything."
"I just feel like he knows more than he's letting on. Mom
just played dumb
too."
"We'll find something. Don't worry."
Salma was always reassuring Ayden. She had become a constant
in his life.
The only real constant he had. She had shown up one day,
knocking on his
door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden some home
made enchiladas.
That had been the beginning of their friendship. They had spent
many
nights talking until three in the morning and hanging out on
weekends.
Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside world.
Once moving
away from his family, he had become a recluse of sorts. He
showed up to the
office for work, attended cocktail parties required for work
and even dated
a couple of girls, but Salma was the one person he truly felt
comfortable
with. Her infectious way of always looking at things
positively seemed like
a novelty to Ayden. She could always make him smile. When
he began writing
the book about Henry, Salma had offered to assist in anyway she
could.
"I'm really glad you're here," Ayden said.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm waiting for my pay check." Salma giggled
as she pulled
into a parking stall. "I think we're here."
While Salma dropped coins into the parking meter, Ayden
tapped his cane
along the brick walls looking for the door. Hearing the
clink of glass as
his cane tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door.
"No Braille, is this it?" he shouted back to Salma.
"I believe so," she answered rushing to catch up.
They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere of the
police station.
Ayden moved towards the sound of clacking as some one
pressed keys on a
computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency. This, he
thought, must be a
reception desk.
Stepping up to a smooth feeling counter, Ayden said, "Excuse
me." "Can
I help you?" a woman's bored voice said. "We were wondering if
we can
speak to some one who worked the Henry Templeton case," Ayden
said.
The woman stopped typing and a long silence followed. "Who's
asking?"
"I'm Ayden Templeton, Henry's grandson."
"One minute." A chair creaked as the woman stood. Her shoes
clacked as she
walked away.
Salma touched Ayden's arm. "She had a weird look when you
mentioned your
grandpa's name."
Ayden said nothing, not sure what he was doing there in the
first place.
The woman's shoes clacked once more as she returned. Another
footstep
joined hers, but this person shuffled slightly. The person
shuffled
towards Salma, saying, "Hello. I'm
Sheriff Jenkins.
How can I help you?"
Ayden stepped closer towards Salma, extending his arm to
Sheriff Jenkins.
"I'm Ayden Templeton and this is Salma Juarez. We have some
questions about
my grandfather's death."
There was a pause before Sheriff Jenkins shook Ayden's hand.
"Step into my
office please."
Ayden followed the sheriff into a room off the main section of
the
department. His cane swep the inside of the door frame,
indicating the
width so Ayden avoided bumping into the edges of the frame.
Ayden asked
where a chair was and turned in the direction Captain Jenkins
indicated.
Once again, his cane found the chair and sliding the cane
across the seat,
Ayden determined where the front of the chair was. Salma's
arm brushed his
as she sat next to him.
"Can I get you anything?" Sheriff Jenkins asked.
"No, but thank you. Salma?"
"I'm good," Salma replied.
Ayden felt a tension fill the room as the three sat there,
not speaking.
Sheriff Jenkins began tapping the edge of the metal table in the
interrogation room. Ayden twisted his cane between his
fingers. Salma
bobbed her foot which was lightly kicking Ayden's shin. "We're
hoping
to learn as much as we can about Henry
Templeton's death. I'm
researching the story for a novel I'm working on," Ayden
started. "I
worked the case. There's not much to tell," Sheriff Jenkins
said. "I
know you eventually reported it as an accidental death,
but was there
ever any evidence suggesting otherwise?" Ayden asked.
"No. We questioned friends and family and there was no
reason to believe
Henry Templeton was murdered," Sheriff Jenkins said sharply.
Ayden
shifted his head towards Salma before saying, "I know there
was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it." "Lucy
Baldwin?
She never hurt anyone. We were all shocked
when she married
Henry. She could have had anyone she wanted."
Ayden leaned against the table looking straight in the direction
where
Sheriff Jenkins sat. "I thought Henry was a catch? You
know, a lawyer from
a wealthy family."
"He was a playboy. Always was, never changed."
"Who did you question about his death?" Salma broke in.
The sheriff's chair creaked as he leaned back. "Well, of
course Lucy and
her boy Nick. They were there. Found his body and all." Ayden
shot
the sheriff a questioning glance. He was talking
like he had
forgot who Ayden was.
"Then there was Zelda, the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he
came around
about once a week to help Lucy with the lawn. She loved her
garden. Her
roses won prizes around here," Sheriff Jenkins continued.
"Anyone
else?" Ayden asked. "Oh, his work associates, but Henry was
retired so
they
didn't see much of
him anymore. Alice Whitley, she had been his personal
secretary for years.
She still did stuff part-time for Henry."
Ayden had pulled out a three-by-five plastic device that had
six rows of
cells containing three holes on each side of the cells. A
pop-pop-pop sound
was made as Ayden poked a pointed awl-like object called a
stylus through
the holes as he took Braille notes. "Are any of these people
still around?"
"Not everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton's
to leave town.
Other than Henry's work associates, I think most of them
still live around
here. At least the one's who are still alive."
"Is there anything else you can tell us? Was there anything
strange you
noticed? Any evidence that suggest something other than an
accidental
tumble down the stairs?" The sheriff laughed. "I know you city
folk
like to dream up seedy happenings in small towns, but Henry
Templeton's death was
nothing more than
an accident. Nothing dark about it."
"Thank you for your time," Ayden said extending his hand
again to shake
Sheriff Jenkins's.
Sheriff Jenkins sighed. "Look, don't go digging anything up.
Just let the
dead rest."
Salma's bracelet tinkled as they stood.
"We understand. I'm just trying to find things out about my
grandfather for
the book. You know, no stone uncovered," Ayden said.
"Are you two married?" Sheriff Jenkins asked.
Ayden, confused by the switch, replied, "No."
The sheriff chuckled. "Like your grandpa, I see."
Ayden blushed, but Salma said, "Ayden is nothing but a
gentleman. Clearly
something he did not pick up in this town."
"I know the kind of men the Templeton's are," the sheriff said.
Unsure
of what to do, Ayden turned to leave. "At least he has a better
chance
of touching what you have
been admiring
this whole time," Salma snapped. She turned quickly and
Ayden felt a rush
of breeze as she left the room.
Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say."
"It's okay. He was a pig."
"I didn't realize-"
"I know, its okay. Where to next?"
Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone. "The
house, I
guess." As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of
traffic,
Ayden wondered
why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had. Was it simply
said in a
moment of anger, or was there any truth in her words, he
thought. He has a
better chance of touching what you have been admiring. For
the first time,
Ayden thought of the possibilities with Salma.
Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it
had been during
the few visits he had made during his childhood. The house
had always stood
out even among the street full of bright, cheery houses complete
with
emerald lawns and award winning gardens. The Templeton house
had a
wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening onto a
large lawn
complete with a British garden. Its three stories reached
majestically
towards the sky.
Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house.
The feel of the
railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark
wooden banister.
The stairs creaked as he stepped on them. Reaching the
porch, he felt a
slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear of falling
through the
porch. Children played nearby and cars languidly drove down
the street, but
a strange silence surrounded the house. It was as though Ayden
were
underneath water trying to make out the distant sounds. The
scent of
jasmine passed briefly through his nose as Salma stood next to
him.
"How does it look?" Ayden asked ignoring the scent. Salma took
a deep
breath. "It's run down, that's for sure.
I can't believe
no one has lived here for years."
"My family still owns it, but after my grandfather's death,
no one wanted to
do anything about it."
Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of the dilapidated
Victorian house.
He dug in his pockets for the rusty key he had found in his
father's
office. As he inserted the heavy key in the lock, a quiet
click was heard.
Ayden pushed the solid door open. He looked in Salma's
direction before
stepping inside. Shutting the door, the house engulfed all
sound like a
tomb.
"Creepy," Salma said as she shivered.
Ayden walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide
so as to not
run into anything. Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as
he inhaled.
"This has been sitting for years," Ayden rasped. "What's it
look like?"
Salma looked around. "It's really dark, but it's almost
completely empty.
What do you think you'll find?"
"I'm not sure. Sheriff Jenkins wasn't much help. I just
thought, maybe
something."
Salma's sandals clipped-clopped as she walked over to a
window to open it.
"Well, if we are going to be here long we need fresh air." Ayden
felt
a rush of summer breeze as the window clambered
up. The sound of
kids jumping rope ruined the house's stolid silence. Life
entered the house
again as Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue.
Salma
clumped up the stairs as Ayden moved from room to room
feeling walls
and any remaining furniture, hoping to find something,
anything. He rifled
through drawers and cupboards. So far his hands had only
found dust and
cobwebs.
"Ayden, Ayden!" Salma shouted a couple of hours later.
Ayden hurried towards the staircase. "Salma! Are you okay?"
"Get up
here! I found something!" Ayden clambered up the grand
staircase.
Reaching the top, he
shouted, "What
room?"
"Um, it's a bedroom."
Hearing her voice off to his left, Ayden moved down the
hallway. At the
end, he found a door open.
"Salma?"
Salma's clapping sandals moved towards Ayden.
"Look at this," she said excitedly. Her bracelet tinkled and
paper crackled
as she shoved something in Ayden's hand.
Ayden grinned. "Um." He handed the paper back to Salma.
"Oh-sorry.
I just-you won't believe this." It was another letter; a love
letter
to Henry. Henry, My love,
I miss you. I grow restless with each day. I have waited
years to be with
you, really be with you. Let's stop the pretending, stop the
lies. Don't
be mad with me. I would do anything for you, but we must stop
hiding.
There is no harm in this. I will wait to hear from you, but
don't take
long.
Love,
A. W.
Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath. Ayden
was not quite
sure what her excitement was for.
"We already know Henry was having an affair of sorts," he said.
Salma
sighed impatiently. "Ayden, think about it. Don't you see?"
"Not
really," he said slowly. She grabbed his wrist. Her slender
fingers
gripped him with
a strength
Ayden would not have guessed at. She moved in closer and
once again, Ayden
took in the scent of jasmine. This time he smelled something
else with it.
Vanilla, he thought. Salma shook his arm slightly bringing
him back to
attention.
"Ayden, A. W. Don't you see it yet?"
"A. W.?"
"The initials," she said exasperated, "A. W. Alice Whitley."
"Who's
Alice Whitley?" Salma smacked her forehead. "Ay-where are your
notes
from today?" Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from
his
back pocket. "Now read through it," Salma said as though
talking to a
small child. Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and
looked
sharply
up at Salma.
"See?" Salma asked.
"I can't believe we didn't realize it then. His secretary.
And Sheriff
Jenkins said she's still living in town."
"Think we can find her?"
"Give me a minute," Ayden said reaching for his mobile phone
tucked away in
his pocket.
An electronic hum came from his phone as he maneuvered
through the menus on
his phone. A screen-reading program specific to mobile
phones, helped Ayden
utilize the functions on his phone.
"Got it. There's only one Alice Whitley that shows up in town."
"Thank God for technology," Salma said. "No wonder no one
could ever solve
this case."
Ayden smirked at her. "Thank God for accessible technology.
Come on. She
doesn't live far from here and it's not too late."
Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door. The
house was less
substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described its
well-kempt
lawn and cheery exterior.
The door opened and a woman's voice gasped, "Oh."
"Miss Whitley? I'm Ayden-"
"Templeton," she said. "You look like Henry."
Smiling, Ayden said, "Miss Whitley, this is my friend Salma.
We're working
on a book about my grandfather, and we would like to ask you
some
questions." "Oh, of course. Come in, come in."
As the door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower
scent that he
couldn't place and a clock ticked nearby. Alice Whitley
ushered them into a
sitting room off the entryway. Salma sat next to Ayden on
the soft couch
while Alice sat across from them.
"Can I offer you anything? I just made lemonade."
"That would be wonderful," Salma said.
As Alice left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma. "I'm
sorry, I didn't
even think to ask if you were hungry."
"Hon, it's okay. I didn't think about it myself until now."
"We'll
have dinner after this; I promise." "Promise?"
Ayden grinned as Alice returned. She placed an ice-cold
glass in Ayden's
hand. Ice chinked against the side as he took a gulp. The
cold liquid felt
good down his throat after the dust of his family's house.
He could only
imagine how dirty he and Salma looked. He felt the mingled
grime of sweat
and dirt on his body. Why had it not occurred to them to
stop somewhere
first and wash up, Ayden thought.
"So, what can I help you with? Henry was a dear friend and I
miss him. You
must call me Alice."
"Well, Alice, we specifically are interested in his death,"
Ayden said.
Alice choked on her lemonade. "Why would you be interested in
that?"
"I believe that maybe his death wasn't accidental." "Oh dear,
don't
buy into those silly rumors. Pete Jenkins conducted a thorough
investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at." "And yet
the
rumors persist," Ayden said. "Silly gossip. Housewives bored
out of
there minds." "You know Sheriff Jenkins?" Ayden asked.
"Darling, it's a town of ten-thousand; everybody knows
everybody."
Ayden sipped on his lemonade as Salma clicked her nails
against the side of
her glass.
"We have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story,"
Ayden said.
He affected his best courtroom demeanor. He had seen his
father like this
hundreds of times.
Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her glass. Her voice had
lost some of
its cheeriness when she responded by asking, "What makes you
say that?"
Ayden found the love letter in a folder. He removed the
Braille label,
setting the letter on the coffee table dividing Ayden and
Salma from Alice.
The room grew still. The letter rustled as Alice picked it
up. When she
spoke, she sounded choked as though she were holding back tears.
"Where did you find this?" "It was in some old boxes in the
Templeton
home," Salma said. A long silence followed in which Ayden could
hear
Alice sniffling. "I suppose the truth has to come out sooner or
later," Alice
said quietly.
"We don't need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason
to think Henry
was killed?" Ayden soothed.
"Your grandfather hired me when I was eighteen," Alice began,
ignoring
Ayden. "I instantly fell in love with him, but he was that
type. Dashingly
handsome, charming to a fault. He was a few years older than
me, but I knew
how all the girls waited for their chance to rope Henry into
marriage. I
felt so lucky to see him everyday. I started out as a simple
receptionist,
but eventually he promoted me to his personal secretary." "Did
you
move with my grandparents then, when they moved?"
Ayden asked.
Alice sighed. "Yes, but after-things happened-I moved back.
I remained in
his employ, working from the office here in town. Before
your father took
charge, Henry's headquarters had always been based from here."
Ayden
nodded his head. "I never meant to hurt anyone. Things
happened.
Henry loved
us both, Lucy
and I. I tried to end it for years, but Henry always showed
up with that
smile of his. Then I tried to make him choose. I should've
known better,
but I was in love."
Alice continued to spill her story, hoping for redemption
perhaps.
"The final straw came right before his death. We had carried
on for almost
forty-years and I knew it had to stop. We fought. I
threatened to tell
Lucy and that was that. He left me promising to choose. I
waited for an
answer, but a week later, Henry was found dead."
"Did you ever tell anyone?" Ayden asked.
"No."
Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice's house. A
breeze tousled
Ayden's hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through his
dark tresses.
"Seems like all you Templeton men are irresistible," she said
teasingly.
Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he grinned, but
before he could
make a remark, Ayden heard her car door click open. He slid
into the
passenger seat, heart pounding. "You promised me dinner," Salma
whined
playfully.
After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and
Salma found
themselves walking through the downtown area. Salma kept up
with Ayden's
stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc. "Sometimes
I think
it would be nice to live in a small town,"
Salma mused.
"Really, you? Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day," Ayden
joked.
"I could drive to the city. I don't know. It seems like a
nice place to
raise a family."
Ayden had never heard Salma speak about kids or families. As
well as he
knew her, Ayden realized there was plenty he still had to
learn about Salma.
"Yes, we could raise happy little kids who will grow up to
cheat, lie and
murder," Ayden scoffed.
"We, huh?"
Ayden blushed, feeling the heat creep up his neck to his
face. He hadn't
caught his blunder. He sputtered, but before he could make
sense of his
words, Salma grabbed his hand.
"Maybe we can live in the Templeton mansion," she said.
They walked silently back to the car.
"It's pretty late, what should we do?" Salma asked.
Ayden flipped the crystal face of his watch up. Feeling the
raised dots and
arrows with his pointer finger on his Braille watch, he said,
"It's a
quarter to eleven. I'm beat." "Me too. I don't really feel
like
driving back tonight though." Ayden scratched his head. "I
guess we
can stay at casa-de-Templeton." "Okay, but no funny business,"
Salma
joked. Sitting in the car, Ayden said, "By the way, unlike some
men
in my family,
I'm more of a one-woman type."
They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master
bedroom.
"Sure you don't want to sleep in another room?" Ayden asked.
"Hell no!
This house is creepy." "I thought you wanted to raise children
here?"
"Shut-up. Scared to sleep with a girl?" The bed creaked as
Salma lay down
on it. "A bit musty."
They had found spare bed linens in a box and had attempted to
shake them out
as best they could. Ayden had noticed a lingering wispy
scent of flowers
that he could not place. It may have been the remnants of
something used to
launder the linens years ago, he had thought.
Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and handed it to
Salma. "Here.
You can wrap your pillow in it."
"Thanks," Salma said drawing the word out.
Realizing what he had just done, he blushed for the millionth
time that day.
Not able to turn back what he had done, Ayden lay slowly
down, sticking
close to the edge.
"Keep your hands above the blankets," Salma yawned.
Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly
dawned as he felt
Salma's small body nestled against his. She snored quietly and
Ayden
smiled. This was nice, he thought. He extracted himself
gently from the
bed, trying to not wake Salma.
He needed to use the bathroom, but it struck him that the
bathrooms would
not be in working order. It was primitive, but it would have
to do, he
thought as he found his way downstairs and out into the back
garden. Hoping
no neighbors were awake to see him, he relieved himself.
Half asleep still, his eyes snapped open as a slight shuffle
came from
behind him. Finished with his midnight chore, he listened
intently, but no
sound came again. He turned around, gripping his cane in one
hand.
"Hello," he said. No response came. He turned back towards the
house
and as he
walked, Ayden
felt his back tingle. It was the sensation he felt as a child
when
terrified, feeling a presence behind him. He was an adult
now, he chided
himself. Forcing himself to walk calmly back into the house,
he reached the
French doors and entered. As he went to shut the doors, a
soft shuffle
started in the darkness again. It could have been the long
dead foliage
rustling in the breeze, but Ayden placed himself in the
doorway again. The
noise instantly stopped.
Slamming the door and locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs,
taking three
steps at a time. Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears,
Ayden felt a
cool breeze cut through the stuffy air of the bedroom.
DeMint, he swore to
himself. They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping
to air out
their lodgings for the night.
Salma still was sleeping peacefully on the bed. He sat on
the bed resting
his head on the large carved headboard, listening.
Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the leaves of
trees from
time to time. Salma continued her snoring. Silence loomed
around the
house. Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again or a step
on the
stairs, but nothing came. He relaxed after fifteen minutes
of vigilante
guarding.
Laying back down on the bed, one arm behind his head, he
smiled when Salma
threw an arm across his chest. Thinking only of Salma by
now, Ayden drifted
back off to sleep.
The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something
was not
right. Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but
an acrid odor
filled his nostrils. A loud crack made him bolt up in bed.
"Salma!
There's a fire!" He shook her until she woke up. "We need to
get out
of here," Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a conscience
state.
Ayden flew to the open door. Smoke filled his nose and made
his eyes water.
"Salma, I can't tell if we can make it down the stairs."
Standing
next to him, she said, "All I can see is smoke. Can
we jump out
the window?"
"We're on the second floor. It's pretty high up."
Now across the room, Ayden heard Salma cry, "Oh-my-god! Ayden!"
"What?" "I can see flames around the base of the house."
"Shit." Trying to think, Ayden gathered up the sheet from
the bed. Dousing
it with water from the couple bottles purchased last night,
he threw the
sheet at Salma. "Wrap yourself in this."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Making sure her long hair was covered, Ayden threw Salma over
his shoulder.
Grabbing his cane by the door, he moved into the hallway.
Hoping the shirt
tied around his face would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top
of the
stairs. Despite the situation, Ayden could not help notice the
harlequin-romance-like predicament. He heard Salma say
something, but
her face was muffled and he
could not
understand her. Tucking his cane underneath his arm, he
groped the banister
which still seemed intact. Finally reaching the bottom, he
found his way to
the front door and opened it. A rush of fresh air greeted
him. Feeling
heat, he hoped he could make it off the porch. At the top of
the stairs,
panicked, he placed Salma upright again. She struggled to
loosen the sheet
around her.
"Are the flames here too?" Ayden asked.
"No, but there coming from behind."
At the end of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone.
Neighbors could be
heard coming from their own houses. A few ran up to Ayden
and Salma asking
if they were okay.
Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the roar of flames.
Salma held his
hand as they waited in silence for the sound of sirens.
Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins's police
cruiser. The
mid-morning sun warmed his face. Still shirtless, a blanket
draped his
shoulders. A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and he could
still smell
the smoke embracing his body.
Once the firemen had extinguished the fire, Sheriff Jenkins
and his deputy,
a man about Ayden's age, drove Salma and Ayden to the police
station. Each
gave a report before Nick was contacted.
Salma approached Ayden now offering a cup of water. He
gulped the cool
liquid down as Salma rested her head against his shoulder.
Sniffing her
hair laced with a flower scent and smoke, Ayden protectively
placed an arm
around her.
"Ayden," Salma said in quiet surprise, "Alice Whitley is here."
Ayden
pulled the blanket closed as he waited for Alice to
approach. A new
scent filled his nostrils. This too smelled of flowers, but
it was not the
framiliar jasmine and vanilla Salma wore. Through the fog of
his brain, he
tried to place where he had smelled this scent before.
"I'm glad you two are alright," Alice spoke quietly. "I
can't believe this.
Do you need anything?"
"Thank you, but we're okay," Salma said warmly.
"Pete phoned me this morning-"
"Sheriff Jenkins? Why?" Ayden asked.
Alice didn't respond.
Waiting for an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower
scent that had
lingered in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens.
"Alice, did you visit the house after we left you yesterday?"
Alice
made a noise as though she were suppressing it in her
throat. She
never answered and before Ayden could ask anything else, he
heard her
muffled footsteps on the grass as she walked briskly away.
"Ayden?"
Salma puzzled. "Her perfume, it's the same smell I noticed in
the
closet last night." "Ayden, that's where I found the letter
too,"
Salma whispered." Ayden heard the swish of grass as someone else
walked towards
them. It was
Nick.
"Are you crazy?" Nick asked, bewildered.
"I'm fine. Nice to see you too, Dad."
Nick let out a long breath before saying, "Your mother and I
went crazy when
we heard what happened. We're glad you're okay."
"Is the house ruined?" Ayden asked.
Salma shifted and sat upright next to Ayden.
"It's mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is damage
to the house."
Ayden felt his chest tighten. The garden had been Lucy's
favorite place.
Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and tall bushes
as Lucy tended
to her beloved flowers. Interrupting his thoughts, Ayden
heard a shuffling
footstep approach. Another memory pushed itself front and
center in his
mind. As Sheriff Jenkins stopped his pace, Ayden gave him a
hard look.
"Tom says it will take a few weeks to get reports back, but
there is some
structural damage to the house, Nick," the sheriff said. "Taken
any
midnight strolls to clear your mind lately?" Ayden
directed to
Sheriff Jenkins.
No one spoke. Salma gripped his hand.
"Any reason why you'd call Alice Whitley early this morning?"
Ayden
continued. "Drop it," Nick hissed at Ayden.
Thrown off by Nick's tone, Ayden squeezed Salma's hand,
unsure what to do.
"I'm sure we're all tired and need to collect our thoughts,"
Sheriff Jenkins
said. "Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick." Ayden
heard the
lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
Ayden sat in front of the computer. A buzz issued from the
speakers as
JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command
Ayden typed.
"Still working?" Salma asked from behind.
Ayden leaned his head back against her stomach. She was
wrapped in a large
soft towel. He slipped his hand through the folds, but she
turned swiftly
away, laughing.
Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled. "That
just turns me on
more."
"I called you a great big moron whose brain is the size of his-"
"Doesn't matter. Still sounds sexy." Salma whipped another
towel at
him before scampering to the bedroom. Turning back to his work,
Ayden
decided to check his email. As he clicked on the necessary
links using
Hotkey commands,
he thought over
the past few weeks.
Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said that
everything was
circumstantial. Ayden knew this, but he also knew he had
opened something
up. Something that had been meant to remain secret. Nick
refused to open
any investigation and he remained tight-lipped about anything he
knew.
The fire was officially reported as an unknown accident since
no evidence,
either way, had been found determining a cause. This, at
least, was how the
police report read. Ayden, though, had inquired into the
fire-chief's
report. It too was inconclusive, but this report did mention
that a match
book had been found near the premises. Salma had advised
Ayden to wait
before attempting any further investigation.
Salma had been the reason he was able to let the weeks slip by
without
searching for more clues. Once they had returned to the
city, Ayden had
found the courage to express his budding feelings towards Salma.
They
had sat on the couch talking; a typical Friday night for
them, except
this time Ayden could feel a growing anticipation between
them. Salma had
stood to get another beer from the kitchen when Ayden reached
for her wrist.
His large palm had felt bigger next to her slim wrist. Both
had stared
silently at one another. Ayden, thinking he would win this
game since he
couldn't see, broke first. Grinning with a smirk, he had
pulled Salma to
him and kissed her.
Three weeks later, their routine was continued as normal, yet
something was
different. They had transitioned into this new element with
ease, as though
it were meant to be. Their friendship was strengthened by
the new romance.
Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name given for
the first
email he came across. Opening it up, he read the following:
Your
journey has just begun, but it is advisable that you stop your
investigation immediately. Heartache and harm can only
befall you. Thank
your luck and live long and well with your beautiful new love.
There
was no signature. Alarmed, Ayden checked the From
field, but the only
information this provided was aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.
Ayden's pulse
quickened. Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the room, he
closed the
window he was in. He thought it was best to not alarm her just
yet.
Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a bear hug,
Ayden knew this
was just the beginning.
_______________________________________________
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------------------------------
Message: 4
Date: Fri, 8 Oct 2010 07:57:43 -0500
From: "Robert Leslie Newman" <newmanrl at cox.net
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder"
some
language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID: <000801cb66e8$65d00ad0$31702070$@cox.net
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII"
Bridget
A good story! I like the blindness descriptors. And that scene
and lines
that you had Salma use while in the office of the sheriff,
"At least he has a better chance of touching what you have been
admiring
this whole time," Salma snapped.
And yeah, I read the comments of Priscilla and Joe and I can see
that
their observations would only enhance the story.
Thanks for sharing!
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Bridgit Pollpeter
Sent: Thursday, October 07, 2010 9:06 PM
To: writers division
Subject: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
language, alludes to sexual content
Hey guys,
I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an upper
lit
credit. We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would
share
mine with you. Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also,
I wrote
it in about a 12-our time span. Yes, I'm a procrastinator!
*smile*
It was fun though so enjoy.
Bridgit P
Sense of Murder
Ayden sat in his father's leather wingback chair rolling a large
key
between his fingers. The metal key had been cold, but now was
warmed by
his hands. He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb
across the
rough , rusty surface. Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely been
researching the mysterious death of his grandfather for a book he
was
writing. Now, he sat among items wondering if his grandfather
had been
murdered. Ayden's father, Nick, had found Henry, his
grandfather, lying
at the bottom of the staircase in his home. Nick never spoke
about the
incident after reporting it to the police. He would not speak to
Ayden
about Henry's death either, but he was allowing Ayden and Salma
to
search through any items Nick kept. No one had been sure what
happened.
Lucy, Ayden's grandmother, had been present too when Henry's body
was
found. The police recorded the death as an accidental fall.
Many
silently pointed fingers at Lucy though. Lucy had grown
distraught
during the past few months before Henry's death. Friends and
family
reported that she had been distracted often or in an irritated
mood.
This was unlike the warm and tender grandmother Ayden had grown
up with.
When Nick found his father's body, Lucy had gone wild, screaming,
unable
to leave Henry's lifeless body. Eventually Nick placed her in a
care
home. Here Lucy had reached an almost catatonic state until she
too had
passed. Gossips spread the news, sweeping far and wide. Lucy
was crazy,
they said. She went mad, she killed her husband. It was juicy,
just
what a small town needed. The police never looked into the
possibility,
but Lucy died with a scarlet letter attached to her memory.
Ayden could
never believe that Lucy would hurt anyone. Lucy had been fond of
Ayden,
guiding him, encouraging him. "You're so full of potential,
Ayden. I
can see fire in your eyes," she used to tell him. When Ayden
lost his
vision, Lucy had been the one person who supported him, still
encouraging. For years, though, there had been whispers of foul
play,
but no one ever spoke about the rumors. Vague insinuations were
the
closest anyone came to mentioning "murder." Ayden, though, had
never
played by the rules. His mother referred to him as the "black
sheep of
the family" whenever she threw a dinner party. Ayden never felt
like he
fit in his family's world of snobbish dinner parties, elite
country
clubs and preferential treatment at most Ivy League universities.
He
had already been a disappointment to his family before a car
accident
left him blind. Seven-years later, Ayden had come to terms with
his
blindness, but his family accepted him only out of duty. His
father had
been clear when saying, "This condition of yours is not suitable
for the
courtroom, but the firm can take you on in a capacity for
research,
perhaps. Maybe a paralegal position will be suitable." Ayden was
not
able to live with this attitude hanging over him. After
completing his
bachelor's in literature, Ayden took up a career writing for any
newspapers or journals that accepted his entries. Writing for a
small
literary journal allowed Ayden to work on his novel which had
turned
into a fictionalized account of his grandfather's death. Asking
his
father for any information about his grandfather's life, was the
reason
Ayden now sat in his father's study. He found more, he thought,
than
his father knew about though. "So what's next?" Salma asked.
Salma
lived across the hall from Ayden in his building. They had
become
friends, and Salma now was helping him research his grandfather's
life.
Tapping the key in his palm, Ayden said, "I'm not sure. This
letter
says a lot." Ayden closed his eyes thinking on this letter. It
was
evidence, even if circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew
about it,
she could have killed Henry. There was a pause then paper
crackled
before Salma spoke. "It's pretty clear from this letter that
your
grandfather was having an affair. I wonder if we can figure out
these
initials, A. W." Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to
remember anyone
he had ever met with A. W. for initials. "I don't know," he
sighed. As
Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they had found
an old
copy of Wuthering Heights. Ayden remembered the year Henry had
given
the third edition book to Lucy for Christmas. Lucy had sat
unwrapping
the gift, then exclaimed, "Oh," before looking up with tears in
her
eyes. Wuthering Heights had always been her favorite novel.
Lucy had
been the one person to encourage Ayden to follow his dream and
take up
writing instead of joining the family law firm. "You're meant to
follow
your own path," Lucy had told Ayden once. Twenty-years later,
Ayden and
Salma found a letter enclosed in the pages of the book. Ayden
touched
the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it out to Salma to
inspect.
She told him the letter appeared old, but not as old as the book.
A few
of the torn edges of the letter were turning yellow. The letter
was
simple as she read:
Henry, my love,
I can not wait to see you again. I hoped and when I saw you
coming down
the road, my heart leaped. I still feel your touch. How much
longer
must we wait? Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is
too
late.
Love, A. W.
"What now? Where do we go next?" Salma asked.
Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him. "We visit
the old
Templeton mansion." The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home
Henry
and Lucy had lived in for years. The family still owned it, but
it had
sat empty for years. Ayden thought that maybe more secrets were
hidden
within the walls of the Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove. Neither spoke as Ayden's
fingers
slid across the pages on his lap. Reading his Braille notes,
Ayden
wondered where to start once they reached the small town where
his
grandparents and father had grown up. Henry had started a small
law
firm in town, but eventually it grew. Henry and Lucy had moved
when
Nick had been ten. Nick never spoke about his childhood though.
Ayden
really didn't know much about his family's past. Lucy and Henry
had
moved back to their old house once Nick took the firm over, but
Ayden
had rarely visited the home. After Henry had died, Lucy, unable
to cope
with his death, had moved into an upscale nursing home in the
City, and
Nick left the house untouched. The house had sat empty now for
ten
years. As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma. "Are we
there?"
"Yes. What's our first stop?" "I'm figuring this out as we go
along.
I guess the police station." Salma was silent before saying, "You
okay?
I know your dad wasn't happy." Ayden had questioned his father
about the
letter, but Nick had gone quiet and cold before telling Ayden,
"Leave it
alone. We don't dig up family history." Ayden tried to coax Nick
to say
more, but the subject was closed. "Yeah. I wish he would have
told us
more. Explained something," Ayden said. "Maybe he just wants to
keep
your family secrets, well, secret. Some people don't like giving
out
info about anything." "I just feel like he knows more than he's
letting
on. Mom just played dumb too." "We'll find something. Don't
worry."
Salma was always reassuring Ayden. She had become a constant in
his
life. The only real constant he had. She had shown up one day,
knocking
on his door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden some
home made
enchiladas. That had been the beginning of their friendship.
They had
spent many nights talking until three in the morning and hanging
out on
weekends. Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside
world.
Once moving away from his family, he had become a recluse of
sorts. He
showed up to the office for work, attended cocktail parties
required for
work and even dated a couple of girls, but Salma was the one
person he
truly felt comfortable with. Her infectious way of always
looking at
things positively seemed like a novelty to Ayden. She could
always make
him smile. When he began writing the book about Henry, Salma had
offered to assist in anyway she could. "I'm really glad you're
here,"
Ayden said.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm waiting for my pay check." Salma giggled as she
pulled into a parking stall. "I think we're here." While Salma
dropped
coins into the parking meter, Ayden tapped his cane along the
brick
walls looking for the door. Hearing the clink of glass as his
cane
tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door. "No Braille, is this
it?" he
shouted back to Salma. "I believe so," she answered rushing to
catch up.
They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere of the police
station. Ayden moved towards the sound of clacking as some one
pressed
keys on a computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency. This,
he
thought, must be a reception desk. Stepping up to a smooth
feeling
counter, Ayden said, "Excuse me." "Can I help you?" a woman's
bored
voice said. "We were wondering if we can speak to some one who
worked
the Henry Templeton case," Ayden said. The woman stopped typing
and a
long silence followed. "Who's asking?" "I'm Ayden Templeton,
Henry's
grandson." "One minute." A chair creaked as the woman stood. Her
shoes
clacked as she walked away. Salma touched Ayden's arm. "She had
a weird
look when you mentioned your grandpa's name." Ayden said nothing,
not
sure what he was doing there in the first place. The woman's
shoes
clacked once more as she returned. Another footstep joined hers,
but
this person shuffled slightly. The person shuffled towards
Salma,
saying, "Hello. I'm Sheriff Jenkins. How can I help you?" Ayden
stepped
closer towards Salma, extending his arm to Sheriff Jenkins. "I'm
Ayden
Templeton and this is Salma Juarez. We have some questions about
my
grandfather's death." There was a pause before Sheriff Jenkins
shook
Ayden's hand. "Step into my office please." Ayden followed the
sheriff
into a room off the main section of the department. His cane
swep the
inside of the door frame, indicating the width so Ayden avoided
bumping
into the edges of the frame. Ayden asked where a chair was and
turned
in the direction Captain Jenkins indicated. Once again, his cane
found
the chair and sliding the cane across the seat, Ayden determined
where
the front of the chair was. Salma's arm brushed his as she sat
next to
him. "Can I get you anything?" Sheriff Jenkins asked. "No, but
thank
you. Salma?" "I'm good," Salma replied. Ayden felt a tension
fill the
room as the three sat there, not speaking. Sheriff Jenkins began
tapping
the edge of the metal table in the interrogation room. Ayden
twisted
his cane between his fingers. Salma bobbed her foot which was
lightly
kicking Ayden's shin. "We're hoping to learn as much as we can
about
Henry Templeton's death. I'm researching the story for a novel
I'm
working on," Ayden started. "I worked the case. There's not
much to
tell," Sheriff Jenkins said. "I know you eventually reported it
as an
accidental death, but was there ever any evidence suggesting
otherwise?"
Ayden asked. "No. We questioned friends and family and there
was no
reason to believe Henry Templeton was murdered," Sheriff Jenkins
said
sharply. Ayden shifted his head towards Salma before saying, "I
know
there was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it." "Lucy
Baldwin? She never hurt anyone. We were all shocked when she
married
Henry. She could have had anyone she wanted." Ayden leaned
against the
table looking straight in the direction where Sheriff Jenkins
sat. "I
thought Henry was a catch? You know, a lawyer from a wealthy
family."
"He was a playboy. Always was, never changed." "Who did you
question
about his death?" Salma broke in. The sheriff's chair creaked as
he
leaned back. "Well, of course Lucy and her boy Nick. They were
there.
Found his body and all." Ayden shot the sheriff a questioning
glance.
He was talking like he had forgot who Ayden was. "Then there was
Zelda,
the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he came around about once a
week to
help Lucy with the lawn. She loved her garden. Her roses won
prizes
around here," Sheriff Jenkins continued. "Anyone else?" Ayden
asked.
"Oh, his work associates, but Henry was retired so they didn't
see much
of him anymore. Alice Whitley, she had been his personal
secretary for
years. She still did stuff part-time for Henry." Ayden had
pulled out a
three-by-five plastic device that had six rows of cells
containing three
holes on each side of the cells. A pop-pop-pop sound was made as
Ayden
poked a pointed awl-like object called a stylus through the holes
as he
took Braille notes. "Are any of these people still around?" "Not
everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton's to leave
town.
Other than Henry's work associates, I think most of them still
live
around here. At least the one's who are still alive." "Is there
anything else you can tell us? Was there anything strange you
noticed?
Any evidence that suggest something other than an accidental
tumble down
the stairs?" The sheriff laughed. "I know you city folk like to
dream
up seedy happenings in small towns, but Henry Templeton's death
was
nothing more than an accident. Nothing dark about it." "Thank
you for
your time," Ayden said extending his hand again to shake Sheriff
Jenkins's. Sheriff Jenkins sighed. "Look, don't go digging
anything up.
Just let the dead rest." Salma's bracelet tinkled as they stood.
"We
understand. I'm just trying to find things out about my
grandfather for
the book. You know, no stone uncovered," Ayden said. "Are you
two
married?" Sheriff Jenkins asked. Ayden, confused by the switch,
replied,
"No." The sheriff chuckled. "Like your grandpa, I see." Ayden
blushed,
but Salma said, "Ayden is nothing but a gentleman. Clearly
something he
did not pick up in this town." "I know the kind of men the
Templeton's
are," the sheriff said. Unsure of what to do, Ayden turned to
leave. "At
least he has a better chance of touching what you have been
admiring
this whole time," Salma snapped. She turned quickly and Ayden
felt a
rush of breeze as she left the room.
Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say."
"It's okay. He was a pig."
"I didn't realize-"
"I know, its okay. Where to next?"
Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone. "The
house, I
guess." As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of
traffic,
Ayden wondered why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had.
Was it
simply said in a moment of anger, or was there any truth in her
words,
he thought. He has a better chance of touching what you have
been
admiring. For the first time, Ayden thought of the possibilities
with
Salma.
Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it had
been
during the few visits he had made during his childhood. The
house had
always stood out even among the street full of bright, cheery
houses
complete with emerald lawns and award winning gardens. The
Templeton
house had a wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening
onto a
large lawn complete with a British garden. Its three stories
reached
majestically towards the sky.
Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house. The
feel of
the railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark
wooden
banister. The stairs creaked as he stepped on them. Reaching
the porch,
he felt a slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear of
falling
through the porch. Children played nearby and cars languidly
drove down
the street, but a strange silence surrounded the house. It was
as
though Ayden were underneath water trying to make out the distant
sounds. The scent of jasmine passed briefly through his nose as
Salma
stood next to him. "How does it look?" Ayden asked ignoring the
scent.
Salma took a deep breath. "It's run down, that's for sure. I
can't
believe no one has lived here for years." "My family still owns
it, but
after my grandfather's death, no one wanted to do anything about
it."
Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of the dilapidated
Victorian
house. He dug in his pockets for the rusty key he had found in
his
father's office. As he inserted the heavy key in the lock, a
quiet click
was heard. Ayden pushed the solid door open. He looked in
Salma's
direction before stepping inside. Shutting the door, the house
engulfed
all sound like a tomb. "Creepy," Salma said as she shivered.
Ayden
walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide so as to
not run
into anything. Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as he
inhaled.
"This has been sitting for years," Ayden rasped. "What's it look
like?"
Salma looked around. "It's really dark, but it's almost
completely
empty. What do you think you'll find?" "I'm not sure. Sheriff
Jenkins
wasn't much help. I just thought, maybe something." Salma's
sandals
clipped-clopped as she walked over to a window to open it.
"Well, if we
are going to be here long we need fresh air." Ayden felt a rush
of
summer breeze as the window clambered up. The sound of kids
jumping
rope ruined the house's stolid silence. Life entered the house
again as
Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue. Salma clumped
up the
stairs as Ayden moved from room to room feeling walls and any
remaining
furniture, hoping to find something, anything. He rifled through
drawers and cupboards. So far his hands had only found dust and
cobwebs. "Ayden, Ayden!" Salma shouted a couple of hours later.
Ayden
hurried towards the staircase. "Salma! Are you okay?" "Get up
here! I
found something!" Ayden clambered up the grand staircase.
Reaching the
top, he shouted, "What room?" "Um, it's a bedroom." Hearing her
voice
off to his left, Ayden moved down the hallway. At the end, he
found a
door open. "Salma?" Salma's clapping sandals moved towards
Ayden. "Look
at this," she said excitedly. Her bracelet tinkled and paper
crackled
as she shoved something in Ayden's hand. Ayden grinned. "Um."
He
handed the paper back to Salma. "Oh-sorry. I just-you won't
believe
this." It was another letter; a love letter to Henry. Henry, My
love, I
miss you. I grow restless with each day. I have waited years to
be
with you, really be with you. Let's stop the pretending, stop
the lies.
Don't be mad with me. I would do anything for you, but we must
stop
hiding. There is no harm in this. I will wait to hear from you,
but
don't take long. Love,
A. W.
Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath. Ayden was
not
quite sure what her excitement was for. "We already know Henry
was
having an affair of sorts," he said. Salma sighed impatiently.
"Ayden,
think about it. Don't you see?" "Not really," he said slowly.
She
grabbed his wrist. Her slender fingers gripped him with a
strength
Ayden would not have guessed at. She moved in closer and once
again,
Ayden took in the scent of jasmine. This time he smelled
something else
with it. Vanilla, he thought. Salma shook his arm slightly
bringing him
back to attention. "Ayden, A. W. Don't you see it yet?" "A.
W.?" "The
initials," she said exasperated, "A. W. Alice Whitley." "Who's
Alice
Whitley?" Salma smacked her forehead. "Ay-where are your notes
from
today?" Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from his
back
pocket. "Now read through it," Salma said as though talking to a
small
child. Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked
sharply up
at Salma. "See?" Salma asked. "I can't believe we didn't
realize it
then. His secretary. And Sheriff Jenkins said she's still
living in
town." "Think we can find her?" "Give me a minute," Ayden said
reaching
for his mobile phone tucked away in his pocket. An electronic
hum came
from his phone as he maneuvered through the menus on his phone.
A
screen-reading program specific to mobile phones, helped Ayden
utilize
the functions on his phone. "Got it. There's only one Alice
Whitley
that shows up in town." "Thank God for technology," Salma said.
"No
wonder no one could ever solve this case." Ayden smirked at her.
"Thank
God for accessible technology. Come on. She doesn't live far
from here
and it's not too late."
Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door. The house
was
less substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described
its
well-kempt lawn and cheery exterior. The door opened and a
woman's voice
gasped, "Oh." "Miss Whitley? I'm Ayden-" "Templeton," she said.
"You
look like Henry." Smiling, Ayden said, "Miss Whitley, this is my
friend
Salma. We're working on a book about my grandfather, and we
would like
to ask you some questions." "Oh, of course. Come in, come in."
As the
door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower scent that
he
couldn't place and a clock ticked nearby. Alice Whitley ushered
them
into a sitting room off the entryway. Salma sat next to Ayden on
the
soft couch while Alice sat across from them. "Can I offer you
anything?
I just made lemonade." "That would be wonderful," Salma said. As
Alice
left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma. "I'm sorry, I didn't
even
think to ask if you were hungry." "Hon, it's okay. I didn't
think about
it myself until now." "We'll have dinner after this; I promise."
"Promise?" Ayden grinned as Alice returned. She placed an
ice-cold
glass in Ayden's hand. Ice chinked against the side as he took a
gulp.
The cold liquid felt good down his throat after the dust of his
family's
house. He could only imagine how dirty he and Salma looked. He
felt
the mingled grime of sweat and dirt on his body. Why had it not
occurred to them to stop somewhere first and wash up, Ayden
thought.
"So, what can I help you with? Henry was a dear friend and I miss
him.
You must call me Alice." "Well, Alice, we specifically are
interested in
his death," Ayden said. Alice choked on her lemonade. "Why
would you be
interested in that?" "I believe that maybe his death wasn't
accidental."
"Oh dear, don't buy into those silly rumors. Pete Jenkins
conducted a
thorough investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at."
"And yet
the rumors persist," Ayden said. "Silly gossip. Housewives
bored out of
there minds." "You know Sheriff Jenkins?" Ayden asked. "Darling,
it's a
town of ten-thousand; everybody knows everybody." Ayden sipped on
his
lemonade as Salma clicked her nails against the side of her
glass. "We
have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story," Ayden
said. He
affected his best courtroom demeanor. He had seen his father
like this
hundreds of times. Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her
glass. Her
voice had lost some of its cheeriness when she responded by
asking,
"What makes you say that?" Ayden found the love letter in a
folder. He
removed the Braille label, setting the letter on the coffee table
dividing Ayden and Salma from Alice. The room grew still. The
letter
rustled as Alice picked it up. When she spoke, she sounded
choked as
though she were holding back tears. "Where did you find this?"
"It was
in some old boxes in the Templeton home," Salma said. A long
silence
followed in which Ayden could hear Alice sniffling. "I suppose
the truth
has to come out sooner or later," Alice said quietly. "We don't
need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason to think
Henry was
killed?" Ayden soothed. "Your grandfather hired me when I was
eighteen,"
Alice began, ignoring Ayden. "I instantly fell in love with him,
but he
was that type. Dashingly handsome, charming to a fault. He was
a few
years older than me, but I knew how all the girls waited for
their
chance to rope Henry into marriage. I felt so lucky to see him
everyday. I started out as a simple receptionist, but eventually
he
promoted me to his personal secretary." "Did you move with my
grandparents then, when they moved?" Ayden asked. Alice sighed.
"Yes,
but after-things happened-I moved back. I remained in his
employ,
working from the office here in town. Before your father took
charge,
Henry's headquarters had always been based from here." Ayden
nodded his
head. "I never meant to hurt anyone. Things happened. Henry
loved us
both, Lucy and I. I tried to end it for years, but Henry always
showed
up with that smile of his. Then I tried to make him choose. I
should've known better, but I was in love." Alice continued to
spill her
story, hoping for redemption perhaps. "The final straw came
right before
his death. We had carried on for almost forty-years and I knew
it had
to stop. We fought. I threatened to tell Lucy and that was
that. He
left me promising to choose. I waited for an answer, but a week
later,
Henry was found dead." "Did you ever tell anyone?" Ayden asked.
"No."
Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice's house. A breeze
tousled Ayden's hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through
his
dark tresses. "Seems like all you Templeton men are
irresistible," she
said teasingly. Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he
grinned, but
before he could make a remark, Ayden heard her car door click
open. He
slid into the passenger seat, heart pounding. "You promised me
dinner,"
Salma whined playfully.
After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and Salma
found
themselves walking through the downtown area. Salma kept up with
Ayden's stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc.
"Sometimes I
think it would be nice to live in a small town," Salma mused.
"Really,
you? Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day," Ayden joked. "I
could
drive to the city. I don't know. It seems like a nice place to
raise a
family." Ayden had never heard Salma speak about kids or
families. As
well as he knew her, Ayden realized there was plenty he still had
to
learn about Salma. "Yes, we could raise happy little kids who
will grow
up to cheat, lie and murder," Ayden scoffed. "We, huh?" Ayden
blushed,
feeling the heat creep up his neck to his face. He hadn't caught
his
blunder. He sputtered, but before he could make sense of his
words,
Salma grabbed his hand. "Maybe we can live in the Templeton
mansion,"
she said. They walked silently back to the car. "It's pretty
late, what
should we do?" Salma asked. Ayden flipped the crystal face of
his watch
up. Feeling the raised dots and arrows with his pointer finger
on his
Braille watch, he said, "It's a quarter to eleven. I'm beat."
"Me too.
I don't really feel like driving back tonight though." Ayden
scratched
his head. "I guess we can stay at casa-de-Templeton." "Okay, but
no
funny business," Salma joked. Sitting in the car, Ayden said,
"By the
way, unlike some men in my family, I'm more of a one-woman type."
They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master
bedroom.
"Sure you don't want to sleep in another room?" Ayden asked.
"Hell no!
This house is creepy." "I thought you wanted to raise children
here?"
"Shut-up. Scared to sleep with a girl?" The bed creaked as Salma
lay
down on it. "A bit musty." They had found spare bed linens in a
box and
had attempted to shake them out as best they could. Ayden had
noticed a
lingering wispy scent of flowers that he could not place. It may
have
been the remnants of something used to launder the linens years
ago, he
had thought. Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and
handed it to
Salma. "Here. You can wrap your pillow in it." "Thanks," Salma
said
drawing the word out. Realizing what he had just done, he
blushed for
the millionth time that day. Not able to turn back what he had
done,
Ayden lay slowly down, sticking close to the edge. "Keep your
hands
above the blankets," Salma yawned.
Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly dawned
as he
felt Salma's small body nestled against his. She snored quietly
and
Ayden smiled. This was nice, he thought. He extracted himself
gently
from the bed, trying to not wake Salma. He needed to use the
bathroom,
but it struck him that the bathrooms would not be in working
order. It
was primitive, but it would have to do, he thought as he found
his way
downstairs and out into the back garden. Hoping no neighbors
were awake
to see him, he relieved himself. Half asleep still, his eyes
snapped
open as a slight shuffle came from behind him. Finished with his
midnight chore, he listened intently, but no sound came again.
He
turned around, gripping his cane in one hand. "Hello," he said.
No
response came. He turned back towards the house and as he
walked, Ayden
felt his back tingle. It was the sensation he felt as a child
when
terrified, feeling a presence behind him. He was an adult now,
he
chided himself. Forcing himself to walk calmly back into the
house, he
reached the French doors and entered. As he went to shut the
doors, a
soft shuffle started in the darkness again. It could have been
the long
dead foliage rustling in the breeze, but Ayden placed himself in
the
doorway again. The noise instantly stopped. Slamming the door
and
locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs, taking three steps at a
time.
Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, Ayden felt a cool
breeze cut
through the stuffy air of the bedroom. DeMint, he swore to
himself.
They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping to air out
their
lodgings for the night. Salma still was sleeping peacefully on
the bed.
He sat on the bed resting his head on the large carved headboard,
listening. Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the
leaves of
trees from time to time. Salma continued her snoring. Silence
loomed
around the house. Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again
or a
step on the stairs, but nothing came. He relaxed after fifteen
minutes
of vigilante guarding. Laying back down on the bed, one arm
behind his
head, he smiled when Salma threw an arm across his chest.
Thinking only
of Salma by now, Ayden drifted back off to sleep.
The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something
was not
right. Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but an
acrid
odor filled his nostrils. A loud crack made him bolt up in bed.
"Salma!
There's a fire!" He shook her until she woke up. "We need to get
out of
here," Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a conscience state.
Ayden
flew to the open door. Smoke filled his nose and made his eyes
water.
"Salma, I can't tell if we can make it down the stairs." Standing
next
to him, she said, "All I can see is smoke. Can we jump out the
window?"
"We're on the second floor. It's pretty high up." Now across the
room,
Ayden heard Salma cry, "Oh-my-god! Ayden!" "What?" "I can see
flames
around the base of the house." "Shit." Trying to think, Ayden
gathered
up the sheet from the bed. Dousing it with water from the couple
bottles purchased last night, he threw the sheet at Salma. "Wrap
yourself in this." "Why?" "Just do it." Making sure her long hair
was
covered, Ayden threw Salma over his shoulder. Grabbing his cane
by the
door, he moved into the hallway. Hoping the shirt tied around
his face
would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top of the stairs.
Despite the
situation, Ayden could not help notice the harlequin-romance-like
predicament. He heard Salma say something, but her face was
muffled and
he could not understand her. Tucking his cane underneath his
arm, he
groped the banister which still seemed intact. Finally reaching
the
bottom, he found his way to the front door and opened it. A rush
of
fresh air greeted him. Feeling heat, he hoped he could make it
off the
porch. At the top of the stairs, panicked, he placed Salma
upright
again. She struggled to loosen the sheet around her. "Are the
flames
here too?" Ayden asked. "No, but there coming from behind." At
the end
of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone. Neighbors could be
heard
coming from their own houses. A few ran up to Ayden and Salma
asking if
they were okay. Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the
roar of
flames. Salma held his hand as they waited in silence for the
sound of
sirens.
Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins's police
cruiser.
The mid-morning sun warmed his face. Still shirtless, a blanket
draped
his shoulders. A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and he could
still
smell the smoke embracing his body. Once the firemen had
extinguished
the fire, Sheriff Jenkins and his deputy, a man about Ayden's
age, drove
Salma and Ayden to the police station. Each gave a report before
Nick
was contacted. Salma approached Ayden now offering a cup of
water. He
gulped the cool liquid down as Salma rested her head against his
shoulder. Sniffing her hair laced with a flower scent and smoke,
Ayden
protectively placed an arm around her. "Ayden," Salma said in
quiet
surprise, "Alice Whitley is here." Ayden pulled the blanket
closed as he
waited for Alice to approach. A new scent filled his nostrils.
This
too smelled of flowers, but it was not the framiliar jasmine and
vanilla
Salma wore. Through the fog of his brain, he tried to place
where he
had smelled this scent before. "I'm glad you two are alright,"
Alice
spoke quietly. "I can't believe this. Do you need anything?"
"Thank
you, but we're okay," Salma said warmly. "Pete phoned me this
morning-"
"Sheriff Jenkins? Why?" Ayden asked. Alice didn't respond.
Waiting for
an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower scent that had
lingered
in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens. "Alice,
did you
visit the house after we left you yesterday?" Alice made a noise
as
though she were suppressing it in her throat. She never answered
and
before Ayden could ask anything else, he heard her muffled
footsteps on
the grass as she walked briskly away. "Ayden?" Salma puzzled.
"Her
perfume, it's the same smell I noticed in the closet last night."
"Ayden, that's where I found the letter too," Salma whispered."
Ayden
heard the swish of grass as someone else walked towards them. It
was
Nick. "Are you crazy?" Nick asked, bewildered. "I'm fine. Nice
to see
you too, Dad." Nick let out a long breath before saying, "Your
mother
and I went crazy when we heard what happened. We're glad you're
okay."
"Is the house ruined?" Ayden asked. Salma shifted and sat
upright next
to Ayden. "It's mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is
damage
to the house." Ayden felt his chest tighten. The garden had been
Lucy's
favorite place. Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and
tall
bushes as Lucy tended to her beloved flowers. Interrupting his
thoughts, Ayden heard a shuffling footstep approach. Another
memory
pushed itself front and center in his mind. As Sheriff Jenkins
stopped
his pace, Ayden gave him a hard look. "Tom says it will take a
few weeks
to get reports back, but there is some structural damage to the
house,
Nick," the sheriff said. "Taken any midnight strolls to clear
your mind
lately?" Ayden directed to Sheriff Jenkins. No one spoke. Salma
gripped
his hand. "Any reason why you'd call Alice Whitley early this
morning?"
Ayden continued. "Drop it," Nick hissed at Ayden. Thrown off by
Nick's
tone, Ayden squeezed Salma's hand, unsure what to do. "I'm sure
we're
all tired and need to collect our thoughts," Sheriff Jenkins
said.
"Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick." Ayden heard the
lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
Ayden sat in front of the computer. A buzz issued from the
speakers as
JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command
Ayden
typed. "Still working?" Salma asked from behind. Ayden leaned
his head
back against her stomach. She was wrapped in a large soft towel.
He
slipped his hand through the folds, but she turned swiftly away,
laughing. Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled.
"That
just turns me on more." "I called you a great big moron whose
brain is
the size of his-" "Doesn't matter. Still sounds sexy." Salma
whipped
another towel at him before scampering to the bedroom. Turning
back to
his work, Ayden decided to check his email. As he clicked on the
necessary links using Hotkey commands, he thought over the past
few
weeks. Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said
that
everything was circumstantial. Ayden knew this, but he also knew
he had
opened something up. Something that had been meant to remain
secret.
Nick refused to open any investigation and he remained
tight-lipped
about anything he knew. The fire was officially reported as an
unknown
accident since no evidence, either way, had been found
determining a
cause. This, at least, was how the police report read. Ayden,
though,
had inquired into the fire-chief's report. It too was
inconclusive, but
this report did mention that a match book had been found near the
premises. Salma had advised Ayden to wait before attempting any
further
investigation. Salma had been the reason he was able to let the
weeks
slip by without searching for more clues. Once they had returned
to the
city, Ayden had found the courage to express his budding feelings
towards Salma. They had sat on the couch talking; a typical
Friday night
for them, except this time Ayden could feel a growing
anticipation
between them. Salma had stood to get another beer from the
kitchen when
Ayden reached for her wrist. His large palm had felt bigger next
to her
slim wrist. Both had stared silently at one another. Ayden,
thinking
he would win this game since he couldn't see, broke first.
Grinning
with a smirk, he had pulled Salma to him and kissed her. Three
weeks
later, their routine was continued as normal, yet something was
different. They had transitioned into this new element with
ease, as
though it were meant to be. Their friendship was strengthened by
the
new romance. Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name
given
for the first email he came across. Opening it up, he read the
following: Your journey has just begun, but it is advisable that
you
stop your investigation immediately. Heartache and harm can only
befall
you. Thank your luck and live long and well with your beautiful
new
love. There was no signature. Alarmed, Ayden checked the From
field,
but the only information this provided was
aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.
Ayden's pulse quickened. Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the
room,
he closed the window he was in. He thought it was best to not
alarm her
just yet. Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a
bear hug,
Ayden knew this was just the beginning.
_______________________________________________
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Message: 5
Date: Fri, 08 Oct 2010 09:27:43 -0500
From: BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder"
some
language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID:
<6.2.3.4.2.20101008081531.02bc0150 at www.braddunsemusic.com
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"; format=flowed
I'm enjoying this story. Below are some notes as I read...
Conflicting feeling/message:
..That had been the beginning of their friendship. They had
spent many
nights talking until three in the morning and hanging out on
weekends.
Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside world.
Once
moving away from his family, he had become a recluse of sorts.
He
showed up to the office for work, attended cocktail parties
required for
work and even dated a couple of girls, but Salma was the one
person he
truly felt comfortable with...
BD: It sounds like he had all kinds of connections to the outside
world to me here. Work, dates, business parties. Not the image
of a
recluse in my view.
Blindness accessibility commentary:
..his cane tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door.
"No Braille, is this it?" he shouted back to Salma...
BD: If a sighted reader was reading they actually might not get
this
without spoon feeding... 'He slid his hand along the door
jamb/front/address plate/whatever..."no Braille...'"
instead of just "no Braille". But it sort of stood out as a jab
or
inside perspective at there aren't Braille on many doors which to
me
seemed unnecessary in this context.
Travel descriptions: Again if this is meant for general
consumption
the "inside baseball" descriptions of the travel motions seem to
stand out of place to me. For example...
Ayden followed the sheriff into a room off the main section of
the
department. His cane swep the inside of the door frame,
indicating the
width so Ayden avoided bumping into the edges of the frame.
Ayden asked
where a chair was and turned in the direction Captain Jenkins
indicated.
Once again, his cane found the chair and sliding the cane across
the
seat, Ayden determined where the front of the chair was. Salma's
arm
brushed his
BD: However I think the below example is very natural...
..interrogation room. Ayden twisted his cane between his
fingers.
Salma bobbed her foot which was lightly kicking Ayden's shin.
BD: I will say if this book is targeting blind readers then the
travel discriptions are probably more appreciated in the
storyline.
These aren't story killers by anymeans but I'm just looking at a
real
good story here and looking how it might be better from a general
readers perspective.
Dialog confusion:
Ayden leaned against the table looking straight in the direction
where
Sheriff Jenkins sat. "I thought Henry was a catch? You know, a
lawyer
from a wealthy family." "He was a playboy. Always was, never
changed."
"Who did you question about his death?" Salma broke in.
BD: I was confused who said what about the catch and playboy. I
assume its the Sherriff but the dialog was set up as if it were
Ayden stating it.
slate and Stylist: I think the description of the slate and
stylist
is a good thing in that showing how he's noting stuff but not
sure
a sighted person will understand the "cells" part. Perhaps
describing
it as a series of rectangular holes with indents underneath
similar
to the number six on a dice. I don't know it would be easy to go
too
far in description here.
Sarcasm or not?: At this part...
his phone. A screen-reading program specific to mobile phones,
helped
Ayden utilize the functions on his phone. "Got it. There's only
one
Alice Whitley that shows up in town." "Thank God for technology,"
Salma
said. "No wonder no one could ever solve this case." Ayden
smirked at
her. "Thank God for accessible technology. Come on. She
doesn't live
far from here and it's not too late."
BD: I was confused at the "No wonder no one could ever solve this
case"
comment. Was it sarcasm of some sort or a plug for
technology? The Sherriff admited this was a small town, and in
small
towns everyone knows everyone who is around so while Ayden would
need technology, the locals wouldn't need it to find Ms Whitley
or solve the case. So I was just a bit baffled there.
Conversation reality: At...
"Miss Whitley? I'm Ayden-"
"Templeton," she said. "You look like Henry."
BD: I doubt a stranger would tell another they looked like
someone
right out of the gate like that. Even if she thoght it, and
perhaps
that ought be what is said here to add to the mysteriousness of
the
story, but even if she thought it, I doubt she'd say it out loud.
Love growing: I like the flirty playfulness of Ayden and Salma
but it
seemed to move pretty fast from the apparent long friendship they
had
going, granted this is a short story so things might need to move
along but love stories/flirting likes tensionand release subtlies
and
it just seemed to move a bit fast... sort of like gulping a
chunk of
chocolate without savoring it :). . I got the impression they
were
living together when he was at the computer and she wore a towel
behind him then slipped off to the bedroom. Maybe just a little
clarity. I wondered whose place they were in, why was she in a
towl
in the first place. But I did like the playfulness of the scene.
Overall I really like this story. I'm intrigued how the puzzle
pieces
are going to fit. There are lots of mysteries at once with all
the
characters, very nice writing IMO.
Are you going to or had you finished the mystery?
Brad
con
------------------------------
Message: 6
Date: Fri, 8 Oct 2010 12:19:43 -0400
From: "Pat Harmon" <pharmon222 at comcast.net
To: "Jennifer Harmon" <jennifer.harmon at SourceMedia.com
Cc: NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] no more mystery
Message-ID: <000a01cb6704$9e652530$bab15144 at default3gx6vng
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1"
I went to bed with the "pewter" on my mind, although it did not
cost me
any sleep. Foolish not to look below. There is was, the little
figures
I love. Memories are endless.
Perhaps the housecleaners moved them. I don't know. They are
best on
display. I thought maybe they were in your apartment, but I had
no
recollection of that. My mind creates tales.
Now, I am searching for breadcrumbs. Eleanor gave me a recipe
for
cauliflower. It was out on the counter, and it is the biggest
I've ever
bought.
I am hoping to hear from the newest Grandma I know! I might have
a ride
to Mahwah occasionally. A fellow Lion has a daughter there.
Maybe that
could work out.
Ah, luck shall be with me for new flooring tomorrow. Then, I
must walk
gingerly across it
Did I pay for your latest hairdo? There was a bill and the name
had
something to do with coiffures. It was two hundred or so.
How Do you spell pewter anyway? I'm feeling spelling impaired!
Smile, Hobo! It is Fabulous Frrivolous fantastic fine foolish
fortunate
Friday!!
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