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Flash Fiction Friday – October 19, 2018

When I heard the rumors about witch’s founding our town, I didn’t believe it. How could that be? Those kind of things don’t happen in our little part of the world. We’re a small town in the middle of nowhere.

The more I think about it, maybe it does make sense…

There is a woman in our town named Waylynn Wilson. She has the uncanny ability to make every man in a room drool. Even the old men too senile to remember why they are drooling, drool. Every woman in Watson Wyoming gets fighting mad if you just mentioned her name.

Oh sure, she’s beautiful. Tall, blond, blue eyes and has curves in all the right places.  But, that can’t be the only reason men rush to pull out chairs and buy her drinks. Waylynn is like a man magnet. Men are attracted to her like magic. But here’s the interesting part, no one can put their finger on exactly what makes her so appealing.

One day I asked my great-grandmother Eurlene Watson what she thought of Waylynn and her ability to have men eating out of her hand. Grannie shook her head and said, “Honey, somethings never change.” Then, Grannie didn’t want talk about it anymore. When I asked why, she shook her boney finger at me and told me she didn’t want the curse to follow us like it did those Wilson women. What? No matter how I begged, Grannie wouldn’t say another word.

I’m the curious type and I was determined to find out what my Grannie knew but wouldn’t share. Little did I realize I would be digging up a long buried secret from our little town’s sordid past.

Flash Fiction Friday - Sharon Michaels

It seems a few hundred years ago a wagon train of fifty women journeyed from Salem Massachusetts to the high plains of what is now our town of Watson Wyoming. Here, in the middle of nowhere, the women built a community. Scuttlebutt has it they’d come here looking for isolation and isolation was what they got. That was until the government started building the railroad a few miles to the east.

Well as the tale goes, the same fifty women who settled this area in the early 1700’s were the same fifty women who were here when the railroad started building in the 1850’s. Yes, you read that right. The women never aged, not one day. They were still vibrant, young and beautiful. So, these entrepreneurial women decided to use their best assets to make a little money.

Within weeks they opened their town to the hundreds of men working on the railroad. The fifty women with their own hands, and almost overnight, built a saloon and dancehall. All of them worked in the business and shared equally in the profits.

According to the men who frequented the saloon, it was like seeing double. All the women looked exactly alike. All were tall, blond, blue eyes and had curves in all the right places. And, all were named Waylynn Wilson. The Wilson women made a fortune with their little saloon and dancehall. They became wealthy and each built a big Victorian home on the outskirts of town.

Of course word spread of these wealthy look alike women living in Wyoming. Eventually a professor from Harvard had to come see for himself.  His name was Harry Watson. To make a long story short, Professor Watson was fascinated by what he saw and decided to make his home among these women. Watson was determined to build the town bigger and name it after himself. Why the women didn’t stop him, I have no idea.

He gained their trust and documented everything he could learn about these look alike women who never seemed to age. He kept a detailed journal about each woman and when he died, the journal mysteriously disappeared.

Shortly after Professor Watson passed on, the women began to disappear from Watson Wyoming – one-by-one. Today there seems to be only one woman named Waylynn Wilson left to tell the tale and she’s not talking. In fact, Waylynn Wilson never talks – ever.

Six months ago as I dug through my great-grandmother’s attic looking for something or another, I stumbled across a weathered old wooden hope chest filled with antique fancy dresses, elaborate feathery hats and a leather bound journal. I was pretty sure it was Professor Watson’s missing journal. I carried my new found treasures to my room.

My curiosity got the best of me and I opened the journal first. The ink on the pages was fading into nothingness, but I could still make out a few words. It seemed these fifty women had been cast out by the elders of Salem Massachusetts. Why? They were judged to be the wanton women of Salem. Too many men were being drawn to their magnetic charms.

The elders cursed them to live a life of boredom and isolation. The journal went on to say, the curse could only be broken if one of the women fell in love and married the man of her dreams. If this happened, the other Wilson women would slowly age and begin to die off one-by-one.

Putting two and two together, I’m pretty sure our town’s Waylynn Wilson is the last of the original witch’s. Waylynn has lived alone in the big Victorian on Winston Street for as long as I can remember and, she has never aged a day. She must be the one who broke the curse. According to the professor’s journal, once the man of her dreams dies she will always be young and beautiful, but will remain isolated and alone forever and a day.

Sounds pretty far-fetched, doesn’t it?
I keep telling myself it couldn’t possibly be true, could it?
 
 
 
© Copyright 2018 SharonMichaels.com – All Rights Reserved
 
 
This is a work of fiction.
None of it is real. All names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
 
 
I invite you to stop by and check out all the books in my Amazon Author Page:https://amazon.com/author/sharonmichaels
 
 

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Halloween story hintCould this be a story about Oscar?

I’ll keep you posted…

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Halloween story coming soonI’ll keep you posted…

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Hi, I’m Lady a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel living in Happy Hills Arizona and I love dancing. Yes, I’m a d-o-g. The problem is, as a dog I don’t have many opportunities to dance. Honestly, I could dance all day and all night and not get tired. I am a born dancer!

Let me start at the beginning so you’ll understand why I am so passionate about dancing. Three years ago my human Cynthia rescued me from an overcrowded animal shelter. I spent long days staring at the paint peeling off the walls and looking through the rusty metal bars. I found myself constantly shaking in fear. My coat was matted and tangled. I was all skin and bones. I’d been neglected and unloved for a very long time.

Flash Fiction Friday - Sharon MichaelsFamilies would walk up to me shaking their heads. They’d actually laugh in my face and keep moving on. I wanted to hide in the corner and never come out. Then one Thursday morning Cynthia stopped by my cage and asked to meet me. To make a long story short, we’ve been together ever since. I love my Cynthia and every day I make sure to go out of my way to show my love and appreciation.

With all that said, I don’t feel like a dog. I feel like a human trapped in a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel’s body. The thing is, I have more memories of being human than I have of being a dog. Sounds crazy doesn’t it?

I remember as if it was yesterday dancing in Las Vegas in one of the finest showrooms on the Strip. Back in the day I was a statuesque five foot eleven inches tall, with silky long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. I was a Vegas showgirl. I had my own apartment and I made good money. Lately, there’ve been days I sit and pout because I miss being the star of the most popular show in Las Vegas. All and all I had a really good human life.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not complaining, but life as a dog has been an adjustment. I love dancing more than running after a stupid stick or chasing a smelly ground squirrel. Cynthia tells me when I’m asleep I move my legs and look like I’m dancing. She’s right. In my dog dreams, I’m in my human body dancing to the applause of my adoring fans.

I love when Cynthia puts on her rock and roll music and we dance around the living room. I believe I’ve even taught her a few new dance moves. We also belong to the Happy Hills Line Dancing Club. I go to every class at the clubhouse and stand on the sideline moving right along with the rest of the dancers. A couple of times I’ve run to the center of the room and showed them how I danced in Vegas. Everyone applauded and I think I blushed. It felt wonderful to perform. I don’t want to sound conceited, but I bet I could teach that dance class and show all of them a few sexy moves.

Well, here’s something I’d like you to think about…

Does your dog try to tell you about their human life?

Do they move and whimper in their sleep?

Do they sing when you’re singing?

Do they dance when you’re dancing?

Do they try to communicate with special looks or sounds?

Take it from me, don’t discount your pet’s actions. They’re most likely trying to share something special with you.

If I have a regret, it’s that I wish I could speak human. If I spoke human, I’d share my special Las Vegas memories with Cynthia. I know she’d enjoy hearing all my showgirl stories.
 
 
 
© Copyright 2018 SharonMichaels.com – All Rights Reserved
 
 
This is a work of fiction.
None of it is real. All names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
 
 
Oscar Book 4 - Kindle Cover

Here’s a link to the Paperback Book 4 –
The Oscar Imposter Mystery in Paperback

Here’s a link to the Kindle Book 4
The Oscar Imposter Mystery on Kindle
 
I invite you to stop by and check out all the books in An Oscar the Doxie Detective Mystery Series An Oscar the Doxie Detective Series
 
 

Protected by Copyscape

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As a dog I have a pampered life living in Happy Hills Arizona. My human Fred calls me his little princess. The story goes that Fred was picking up sushi for lunch at the local grocery store when he saw me sitting on the sidewalk tied to a shopping cart. I had my dish and a squeaky toy next to me. There was a note taped to the dish that read: This Shih Tzu is now homeless. Fred picked me up and took me home. That’s how I got my name Sushi. I didn’t have a collar or tag and I wasn’t microchipped. We never did find who left me at the store. I don’t remember much of my dog life before I started living with Fred. All I know is that my life is wonderful and Fred is my forever human.

My friends in the Detective Club and I solve mysteries here in Happy Hills. In fact, we’re considered quite the local celebrities. I have to be honest with you, this isn’t the first time I’ve been a celebrity. In my human life, before I ended up in the body of a twelve pound Shih Tzu, I was a world famous swim suit model. Really, I’m not kidding you. I was on the cover of a famous sports magazine several times and voted the most beautiful woman in the world two years in a row.

Flash Fiction Friday - Sharon MichaelsI’ve been having flashbacks to my human life. Sometimes I feel like I’m caught between two worlds – the past and the present. I think part of remembering the past is about making peace with how my human life ended.

Sure, I was a beautiful woman. I can thank my mother and father for my high cheekbones, blue eyes and long graceful legs. You know what I quickly realized? Beauty is only skin deep and it doesn’t last forever. Sounds like I’m negative, doesn’t it? Well, I am.

Toward the end of my human life I was treated more like a piece of merchandise than a person. I was a paycheck for so many people, that most of them lost sight of me as a human being. I don’t want you to jump ahead and think I took my own life, I didn’t. I do though think I may have worked myself to death. That’s probably why I’m so laid back and mellow in my new dog life. I’ve learned that there’s more to life than fame, fortune and fabulous hair.

Let me start at the beginning. Growing up in a tiny Midwest farming town surrounded by corn and cows I dreamt of being a beauty queen. Not just any beauty queen mind you, I set my sights on becoming Miss Universe. I trained day in and day out. I learned to walk, talk and look like a beauty queen.

No, I didn’t become Miss Universe. I did though become one of the richest women in the world. I was young, gorgeous, wealthy and famous! I couldn’t go anywhere without the paparazzi following me. I was on the cover every popular magazine in the world. I dated movie stars, billionaires and Wall Street moguls. I was living my dream life. Or so I thought.

In my early thirties I learned quickly there was a price to pay for my lifestyle, and I paid it.

I was obsessed with my weight, my clothes, my hair, my makeup and my press coverage. I ate next to nothing and by the time I was twenty-five I’d had so much plastic surgery my own mother could hardly recognize me. I was young and foolish and I didn’t care. Life was one party and one photo shoot after another. Then one day it all came crashing down around me.

When I was thirty-one I found a sore spot and bruise on my spine, but I decided to ignore it. Then, six months later I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed. The diagnosis was cancer. I started treatment immediately. I lost my hair and my looks faded. My famous friends ignored my calls. My agent went on to her next upcoming meal ticket and dropped me as a client. The public forget about me. I was a washed up has been.

I moved back to the tiny Midwest farming town and my family nursed and cared for me. A year later to the day of my diagnosis I was buried in the small family cemetery on my grandparent’s farm. I know, it’s probably not the happy ending you were expecting – me either. Life sometimes throws you curve balls. It’s what you do with the curve balls that count.

I decided to leave my wealth to my family and to the local children’s hospital. The hospital now has an entire wing devoted to caring for children with life threatening illnesses.

My human Fred has given me a fantastic life here in Arizona. I’m a pampered and loved dog. There’s a special fellow in my life named Oscar who is a funny, smart and caring mini-dachshund. I also have great friends and together we help our community stay safe. My dog life is full of simple pleasures for which I’m extremely grateful.

I am grateful for you too. Thank you for reading my story and I invite you to read more about my Happy Hills friends and our adventures in the Oscar the Doxie Detective mystery series.
 
 
 
© Copyright 2018 SharonMichaels.com – All Rights Reserved
 
 
This is a work of fiction.
None of it is real. All names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
 
 
Oscar Book 4 - Kindle Cover

Here’s a link to the Paperback Book 4 –
The Oscar Imposter Mystery in Paperback

Here’s a link to the Kindle Book 4
The Oscar Imposter Mystery on Kindle
 
I invite you to stop by and check out all the books in An Oscar the Doxie Detective Mystery Series An Oscar the Doxie Detective Series
 
 

Protected by Copyscape

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