‘Home at last!’ she whispered. Paspatoo grunted in agreement and dragged the heavy cases of contriband towards the taxi rank.

Once I caught my breath I brewed up my courage to peer from behind the curtains. Light rain had begun to fall but the moonlight exposed nothing unusual. I watched the bushes in my garden but nothing moved. I looked up and down the street, holding my breath for no other reason than expecting a scare. No one was there, no cat or dog and certainly not the person who I thought spoke to me.

After a time I dropped the curtain and left the window. It was late and I busied myself getting ready for bed, all the while trying to make out what it was I heard in my ear. The words just did not make sense, well, I did not understand at all. Unable to sleep, I made myself a cup of hot chocolate and sat at the kitchen table reading the mornings paper. I flicked through the pages, read the notices and obituaries and ignored the sports as usual. My eyes started closing so I made my way to bed and tried to sleep. It did not come easy, the whisper haunted my dreams and I woke constantly, peering through the darkness at the window, wondering what was out there and if I had imagined it.

Morning came with great relief.  I rose and headed to the bathroom. I knew a quick shower would clear my mind. After my shower, I dressed and left the house. My usual Sunday routine, I headed to the bakery for a nice brewed coffee and a sweet bun. From the bakery I headed to the cemetary where I found a bench, bathed in dappled sunshine.  I enjoyed my coffee, steam rising high from the cup.  I sat and watched the birds dig through the leaves and fresh turned earth, I listened to their songs and fed them the crumbs from my bun. 

On finishing my breakfast, I stood then walked the well worn paths. I read the tomb stones, old and new and stopped every now and then to offer words to the newly buried. I came to the end of the large plots then started on the lawn plots, I knew most of them by heart but still took the time to read each brass plate.  Dotted amongst them were some graves that held no plate, just well manicured grass and an occasional dead flower arrangement.

I came to the end,  a new grave with a plastic number marking its position and a large mound of earth covered with artificial grass. I smiled gently when suddenly the whisper came back… “help” it said. “Help Me” A quiet young voice desperatley asking for help. I looked up and around for the source when my eyes spied it; small fingers protruding from beneath the artificial turf.  I lent forward to confim it. Yes, they were indeed fingers.  My mind falshed back to the front page of the paper I had read: “Missing!”  I stumbled back and took my phone from my pocket to dial the emergency services, fingers trembling.

It seemed to drag on forever, I was ushered away, yellow police barricade tape had been erected around the grave. Men in white hazard suits were gathered around the plot, digging, holding things up, bagging them.  A police woman kept asking me what seemed the same question over and over.  I knew nothing more other than the headlines I had read, a young girl taken from her home in broad daylight.

My typical Sunday was no more. The whisper was a cry for help,  one I could not understand. I stood, dumbfounded, wondering what more I could have done.  Something that would haunt me forever.

Spot - king of the outdoors!

Today Spot – the kitten – went for his first foray into the backyard. He has been a total house cat up to this point but snuck out when I let the girls outside.  He walked around for a bit – grass! bugs! fence!!!! He ran at the fence.  At the same time the alpaca (ossie) saw spot and ran to investigate. As spot put his nose through the fence, so did ossie.  Spot is now totally traumatised!Fluffed up like a furry beach ball and jumping at his own shadow, he now believes in aliens!!!!!  Spot has not settled yet, and keeps running up and down the hallway then rushing off to the window to stare at the backyard.

the truth is out there!

Squirt doing her Puss n Boots impersonation

Our youngest cat died on Saturday morning.  Squirt was a sweet cat who craved human company, she will be greatly missed by us.  Here she is pictured in my arms (her favourite position) about two weeks ago as I tried to use the computer.

Wrapped in Crochet: Scarves, Wraps, & Shawls

I am in love with nearly everything in it.  I cannot wait to finish my shawl to start another one.  Oh, I have to finish those socks too.  I think I have worked it out.  I just need to remember to use stitch markers.  John has been patient with my sewing, he knows the material and patterns are there and won’t go anywhere.  I know it too but I am really needing a pair of trousers that fits over my brace… my jeans just won’t cut it any more… c’est la vie!  Knit in health