[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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When replying, please edit your Subject line so it is more 
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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
stylist-owner at nfbnet.org

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
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Check out my blog at: http://www.braddunsemusic.com

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_______________________________________________
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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


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_______________________________________________
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--
~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


_______________________________________________
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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stylist:
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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
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

_______________________________________________
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
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

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/braddunse

MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/braddunse




------------------------------

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
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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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/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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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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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/

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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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: 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:

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) __________

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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<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/

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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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<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/

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signature database 5518 (20101009) __________

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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

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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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%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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<http://www.nfbnet.org/pipermail/stylist_nfbnet.org/attachments/2
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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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***************************************


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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

-----Original Message-----
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[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
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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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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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------------------------------

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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