The Murderer

  • Note: For those of you who are followers of my other post “annelisplace,” please excuse the duplication. If you like to read about books, authors, and writing, you may want to follow that blog as well as this one.
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On Marlie’s first day of moving onto the Queen Charlotte Islands, her car has a flat tire. All her belongings are stuffed in the trunk on top of the tire changing equipment. Once removed, they don’t fit back into the trunk, but a passing islander stops to help change her tire and as the sky opens and rain threatens to soak everything, he offers to bring the excess belongings to Masset for her.

Here is the scene that follows (taken from the novel “Marlie”)

*****

“Okay, you go sit in the car and I’ll take care of the rest.” When she nodded, Brent grabbed a few things from the roadside and walked to the back of his truck. She was right behind him with an armful of odds and ends.

Brent opened the canopy door and as she shrieked, he whirled around. “Oh my God! You killer!” Her face was contorted into a mask of horror.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You murderer! How could you kill that sweet little thing? Give me my stuff.” She tried to grab the bags from his hand but dropped what she was carrying. They both bent to pick the things up and bumped heads.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Brent stared at her in disbelief. The popstar image was fading fast and she was looking more like one of those angry protestors he’d seen on TV.

Her hazel eyes were huge as she glared at him. “You killed that helpless animal.”

“Yeah, I shot a deer. So what? I eat venison.”

“Is that even legal?”

“Lady, what planet did you beam down from? Of course it’s legal. Everybody eats venison here.”

“Not everyone! Not me!” She picked up her things and stomped back to her car but there was no place to put anything. She threw him a disgusted look, frowned, shook her head. She opened the back door and punched and pushed and shoved her belongings, desperate to cram her things into the Corolla’s back seat. No room. She squeezed out a growl of frustration, and looked back at Brent again. Her shoulders sagged and that’s when the tears came.

He blew out a long breath. “Look. Nothing is going to happen to your stuff in the back of my truck. The deer won’t do anything to it. You don’t even have to think about it being there. We’ll load up and you can follow me to Masset.” He waited and she appeared to mull that over. It was taking too long. “Oh, piss on it. This was a mistake. I’m leaving. You can wait for another car to pull over to pack your stuff to Masset for you. I don’t need this shit.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist and sniffed. “No wait! Yes, okay. Would you please bring my stuff for me? I guess I have to trust that you won’t take off with my belongings.”

“Have to trust me?! Jeezus you’ve got some bloody nerve. What the hell would I want your stuff for?” Brent turned to get into the truck.

“Please.” She closed her eyes and pulled herself up straight. “I’m sorry. I do need your help. If you could take some of my things in your truck…. I do trust you.”

“This is the only road that goes up or down the island, so you won’t lose sight of your boxes.” What does she think I’d do with a bunch of ladies’ clothes? Christ! What a loonie! How did I get myself mixed up with this nutcase?

“Of course. You’re right.”

“Where in Masset are you headed?”

“The teachers’ trailer court,” she said.

He straightened up and inhaled a long slow breath through his nose. Oh man. One of those! “That explains a lot.”

Find MARLIE on amazon and smashwords.

Underwater Quilting

No, I didn’t quilt these placemats underwater, but I felt like I was drowning in my work at times. Here are two finished and six not finished placemats I worked on while at the quilting retreat.

I wanted to make up the scenes as I went along, so no two placemats are the same. (The one below is finished except for the binding.)

However, you may notice a reappearance of the dark invader, my Darth Vader fish, in several of the placemats. His job is to see that you don’t eat too much at one sitting.

Miss Prissy Fishy below lets the others know that she has special protection from Darky. Who knows what favours she supplies?

So Darky concentrates on other unearthly looking fish for his supper.

And yet, he must wonder why he has no friends. Look at them scramble to get away.

“Miss Prissy Fishy,” says Pretty Boy, “why are you ignoring me?  See how talented I am. I can touch my toes. And anyway, don’t you know that good things come in small packages?”

“I heard that, Pretty Boy,” bubbles Darky, “but in the case of eat or be eaten, just remember that size matters. Oh dear, now look what I’ve done. I’ve upset Little Blue Wonderfish.”

Disclaimer via Darky: Not responsible for any fish swimming upside down.

More “Whatever-they-are”s

A few years ago, I saw only brown llamas or alpacas in our neighbourhood. The other day as I drove down to the spit to take pictures of the seiners at the wharf, I passed the “llama place” and was surprised to see only one brown one.
I think this black one is new – at least “new” to me. Its buddies were of assorted colours.

I had to wonder though, if this brown one is one of the originals. They didn’t have name tags, and they wouldn’t answer when I asked. I guess it’s because they were busy eating.

This is their view. Pretty nice place to have lunch, on a little hillside by the sea. Life could be worse.

Alpaca or llama

Oh what a dilemma,

I wish I could tell,

But then, “Oh what the …heck.”

Herring Time 2019

Two years ago to the day I did a post about the herring fishery. If you are interested you can find it here. https://wordsfromanneli.com/2017/03/08/herring-time/

At that time a fisherman lost his life working in this dangerous job.

However, the fishery goes on. The pressure is on the fishermen to set their nets and catch what they can in the short time allowed.

As seiners from all along the coast of BC gather to await the herring opening, the wharf at Comox, on Vancouver Island, is congested at this time of year. You can see the seiners in the center of the photo above in the government fish wharf, and the toothpick-like masts of the sailboats on the far right, tucked away in their private marina.

How do these boats not get tangled!?

At one time the herring fishery was lucrative, but see, below, the problem facing the herring fishermen now.

These are a few of the sea lions left after a herring season three years ago. Since then the number of sea lions has exploded to the point where the fishermen lose nets repeatedly from dozens of these giants tearing through them to get at the herring in the seine nets.

Every animal needs to eat, but the fishermen are now finding it difficult to make a living when all they seem to do is feed sea lions and pay for very expensive nets. The staggering number of sea lions that have moved in to take up permanent residence on the coast of Vancouver Island has become an overwhelming problem for the fishermen.

Solutions are hard find, as the remedies are all controversial.

What is it?

Certainly not native to Vancouver Island, these animals live just down the street from me on the island. As I drove past one day, I did a double take, thinking at first I was seeing grizzlies (also not native here) on the hillside. I apologize for the poor quality, as these were taken some years ago.

It turned out that they are … er … what? People in the neighbourhood have called them llamas (Spanish pronounciation – yamas), but they look more like alpacas to me. These two animal types are so closely related that I can’t tell one from the other. Alpacas are supposed to be smaller than llamas, but without one of each standing side by side, it is hard to make a comparison.

Llamas are said to have longer ears that point forward. These ears look quite small to me, but who knows?

I have read that alpacas (and, presumably, llamas) have bad reactions to many of the plants that are commonly found in our area, bracken fern, fireweed, and azaleas to name a few. The ones in these photos are unlikely to find much of anything that will disagree with them, as the pickings are pretty sparse on this rocky hillside.

If you’re ever not sure how to spell the name of these animals – lamas or llamas – think of the little poem by Ogden Nash:

The one-l lama,
He’s a priest.
The two-l llama,
He’s a beast.
And I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn’t any
Three-l lllama.

But I still don’t know how to tell the difference between a llama and an alpaca.

I yama gonna have to go sit on a rocky hillside and think about that. It could take me a while to figure out, so I think alpaca lunch.

Reckoning Tide

If you’ve read The Wind Weeps, you’ll remember that I left you hanging at the end of that story. Now you can find out what happens to our pretty, but naive Andrea.

The tide will turn in the sequel of this coastal drama, and there will be a reckoning.

Pure natural beauty, but it was Andrea’s prison.

Robert is becoming more dangerous by every turn of the page. He is desperate to win back his wife, whom he considers his chattel. How dare she run away? Didn’t she know how much he loved her? He would never share her.

When he kept her in his cabin on the coast, he took great care to maintain isolation. No phone, no radio, no human contact. She was his beautiful prize and no one could take her away.

Yes, Andrea was a lovely girl, and now she was malleable too. She would bend to his every wish. She knew what would happen if she didn’t.

But the human spirit can find surprising reserves of inner strength. Desperation and despair drove Andrea nearly to the point of giving up. From somewhere deep inside, a surge of survival instinct welled up in her.

Robert hadn’t counted on her being so gutsy as to try a daring escape. He would do anything to get her back. Anything!

The Wind Weeps is free on amazon (and on smashwords.com for those with e-readers other than Kindle). Be sure to follow up with the sequel, Reckoning Tide, for the exciting conclusion to this coastal drama.

eBOOK_RECKONING_TIDE

Reckoning Tide is available at amazon.comamazon.ca, amazon.deamazon.co.uk in paperback and Kindle,  and at smashwords.com in all formats.

For more info, visit my website at http://www.anneli-purchase.com

Treats for All

These Oregon juncos are probably wishing they were in Oregon, but they have been wintering on Vancouver Island, as usual. I felt very sorry for them when that last snowfall covered most of their natural food sources. Sitting beside a well filled bird feeder, they can’t be starving, but they must be feeling a bit chilly. Their feathers are fluffed out for more insulating power, and I suspect they are not expending any more energy than necessary.

Feeling the same shivery chill, the Captain said, “This is the perfect weather for smoking some salmon.”

It was a lot of work, but after hours of preparation, and timing the brining and smoking process, he brought in a wonderful treat for us. Smoked spring salmon, or as the Americans call it, king salmon. It is properly called a chinook salmon, or if you want to get technical, Oncorhynchus tshawytscha.

Here is what it looked like once upon a time. This is an old photo from MANY years ago. You can only guess how seasick I felt, but catching this big spring salmon made me happy. If I don’t look overjoyed, well, that’s as good as it got for me as long as the boat was moving.