Hidden Secrets_Hot Peppers and Weenies_The Bowtie_The Reckoning
Catalog Guide:
Hidden Secrets
November 17, 2021Javier walked across his large yard as usual, taking his Australian shepherd Zooloo out for her morning run. It was still early, the sun was just beginning to rise through soft hazy shades of pinks in the sky, frosted puffs of cotton breath in the air, promising a crisp day ahead. Zooloo ran ahead of him, through the piles of leaves on the far side, near the maple and apple tree's, now darkened with the onset of winter; leaves fallen to the ground, branches bare and cold. Except for the wind rustling, silence permeated his surroundings. The frigid air moved through him, like ...
Hot Peppers and Weenies
I am sitting here at the most popular southern style cuisine restaurant the farthest corners from where I grew up. The atmosphere is comfortable, energetic and the smells are strong of Cajun spices, heavy paprika, hot peppers, and freshly fried summer squash. On their specials menu I notice they have “Spicy, Pickled Peppers and Links”. Calling the waiter over with a wave of my hand I ask, “What is this like?” “It is our new idea for what to do with hot dogs, they are pickled in spicy hot sauce with hot peppers and pickling stuff I think”, he tells me with a juvenile enthusiasm that travels to...
The Bowtie
Peggy coughed lightly, fanning away years of dust from the crumpled box she retrieved from the dark, dank attic. This better be those Christmas lights or I give up, she thought to herself. Pulling frantically on the flaps, she was dismayed—but only for a moment—that no old Christmas lights or tree ornaments stared back at her. Instead, a puffy dress—once beaming white, but now yellowed with age—sprang from the box as if it had been waiting to jump out and yell “surprise!” from behind a couch as the guest of honor at a party finally arrived. Well, it’s been waiting a long time. This...
The Reckoning
“The Reckoning” The Trailside Diner looked like so many small, nondescript cafes that dot the highways all over the country; white clapboard siding, an asphalt shingle roof and a tired old neon sign that was barely bright enough to read. Mark was only a few steps inside the entrance when a sturdily built red haired woman with a black apron wrapped around ample hips walked up to him. “Mornin’, hon, you can sit anywhere you’d like.” “I’m meeting someone here”, he replied, just as a man in a suede jacket, waving at him, caught his attention. “Oh, I think that’s him there in the first booth.” He s...