Americana
Redux
Pleasant
Valley Sunday
Rosa smiled as
she chatted with the pastor, and then made her way over to the Pontiac where
her daughter Carol was waiting. The
eighteen year old was wearing a white smock top over brown corduroy pants, her long
black hair hanging loosely over it, and a pair of what were known as Jesus
sandals on her feet.
She was a
complete contrast to her mother, her own dark brown hair carefully coiffured
into the style of the time, her long sleeved dress with the blue, white and red
geometric pattern coming to her knees, the white pumps with the kitten heels.
“Can we go home
now,” Carol said with a slight hint of exasperation in her voice.
“Of course – I
am sure you have assignments to complete,” Rosa said as she got behind the
wheel, not noticing the blue car that moved out and followed them when they
turned onto the main road…
As they entered
the house, Carol made her way to her room, Rosa shaking her head as she put her
handbag down and switched on the coffee maker.
She then turned to out on an apron – and slowly raised her hands into
the air…
Carol was sitting
on her bed, a copy of Little Women on her knees as she wrote notes on the pad
next to her. She heard the door open,
and said without looking up “I don’t need anything, Mom.”
“I’m not your
Mom.”
She looked up
when she heard the deep male voice, her eyes wide when she saw the man standing
there with a stocking pulled down over his head. He had a pistol in one hand, with something
attached to the barrel, and in his other hand he held some lengths of rope.
“Do me a
favour, kid,” he said quietly, “lie face down, and put your hands behind your
back.”
Carol slowly
nodded as she closed the book and turned over, too scared to say anything as
the man walked over and put the gun down where she could see it. She then felt him pull her hands behind her
back, and the rope on her wrists as they were forced together.
Whoever this
man was, he was making it tight as she bit her lower lip, and then felt her
ankles being for4ced together in the same way as her wrists. She glanced down to see the flared bottoms of
her pants spread out under the tight ropes, and as he tried to move the
material squeaked as he legs moved together.
She was then
rolled over, and made to open her mouth as a rolled up tube sock was pushed in
to silence her. Making her stand, she
was then made to jump across the corridor, and into her parent’s bedroom.
“MHmmmm?”
“Hnnhhh,” Rosa
said as she wriggled round on the bed.
Carol could see the bands of rope holding her ankles together, and her
mother’s wrists behind her back, as well as the stocking which had been pulled
between her teeth and tied round her head.
The white material of a second tube sock was sticking out from between
her lips as well.
Carol was pushed
over, falling onto the mattress as she saw the man begin to search through her
mother’s drawers. The two women wriggled
round, unable to call for help as Rosa watched her rings, earrings and other
items disappear into the man’s pocket, before he left them to try and escape,
the sounds of people sitting and playing in their backyards coming in through
the open window…
Yesterday
“So why don’t
you take me through what happened again, Mrs Blake?”
“Do I have to?”
“Just for the
records…”
“All right – I
was relaxing at home, not a care in the world…”
“Can you state,
for the record, what you were wearing?”
“My work
uniform – it’s a sleeveless short tunic, fastened with a zip at the front from
hem to shoulder. V-necked, white trim
and with a pocket, the material has a floral pattern. I also had on a pair of black heeled
sandals.”
“Thank you –
so, you were at home…”
“Yeah –
watching Days of Our Lives, having some coffee – and then I was grabbed from
behind, and a gloved hand was over my mouth.”
“What sort of
glove was it?”
“Woollen – no,
cloth. Anyway, it stopped me screaming
as this voice told me to lie face down on the seat I was on. I looked up to see a young man – dark curly
hair, green eyes, wearing a bandana over the lower half of his face.”
“What was he
wearing?”
“I could see a
denim shirt – and I later saw the jeans, when he had finished taping me
up. Anyway, he told me again to lie face
down, so when he took his hand away I did as he asked – and then I started to
feel something sticking to my skin as my wrists were forced together.”
“Did you see
what he was using?”
“Not at first –
but whatever it was, it was sticky, and it was tight. I really could not get my wrists to move –
and then I realised he was doing the same thing to my ankles, making sure they
stayed together. I remember being glad I
had waxed the night before?”
“Why is that?”
“Officer, how
would you feel if someone put tape round your leg – and then ripped it off?”
“Point taken –
so he taped your ankles together. Then?”
“He made me
roll over, which was when I saw his jeans – and the white tape that held my
ankles together. The same tape that he
was now using to hold my legs together below my knees.
“Anyway, when
he had done that… I watched as he tore
strip after strip from the roll, and covered my mouth with the material. It certainly kept me quiet, as he patted my
cheek, and then ransacked the room, turning everything out in order to find – I
guess whatever he would find.”
“So what did he
take?”
“My purse, some
money, not a lot really – he then just left me there, struggling and trying to
call for help.”
“So how were
you found?”
“My neighbour –
she sometimes pops in for a drink, and she found me covered in sweat on the
couch. Cut me free, called the police –
I’m just glad all he did was rob me.”
“as are we –
thank you Mrs Blake.”
Mrs Robinson
She was known
to everyone – the young widow, who appeared to be living the Beatnik
lifestyle. Martha Robinson was actually
in her late forties, her red-brown hair cut short, and on this particular day
shew as wearing a black roll neck sweater and stirrup pants, with a leopard
print blouse over the jumper. She was
also wearing a pair of flat black shoes, and large red earrings.
As she walked
into the office, she was curious as well – the letter had only mentioned a
publishing opportunity, and her poetry had indeed attracted some attention at
the cafes and bars. It was amazing what
her recent bereavement had meant for her – and she was enjoying life to the
full.
And to heck
with anyone who tut-tutted her.
So as she
walked in, she was full of hope. The man
sitting up at the desk looked up at her, as she said “I’m here to see the
editor?”
“one moment,”
he said as he picked up the handset, Martha noticing the music playing in the
background as he talked.
“You may go
through now,” he said as he put the handset down, Martha smiling as she walked
through the door.
“Mrs Robinson?”
“Yes,” Martha
said as she looked round the inner office – and then opened her eyes wide as a
damp cloth was pressed down over her nose and mouth, the fumes sweet smelling
and cloying as she inhaled in her attempts to call for help.
Almost instantly,
her mind started to fog over and she felt her body starting to relax. She tried to struggle, but with little effect
as her eyes slowly closed, and she slumped to the floor…
Martha slowly
came to, her mind feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton wool, as she
wondered what had happened. She walked
into the room, saw it was empty, and then…
And then…
“Hmmhhdddd…”
She hear the
mumbled sound, and wondered who had made it – before she realised to her horror
it was her who had made it. There was
something in her mouth, damp, heavy – and as her senses returned, she felt the
pressure on her cheeks.
Lying still,
she allowed her eyesight to stop playing like a Jackson Pollock painting and
the dots faded – and that was when she discovered she was lying on her side in
the room. Glancing down, she saw thew
bands of rope round her upper body, the front of her blouse open and pulled to
the side, and then bands round her legs and ankles.
“Whtthsghhnhnn,”
she mumbled as she realised her hands were behind her back, and as she searched
with her long fingers she realised her wrists were also bound tightly together
with the rope.
She twisted
round, the ropes rubbing on her and tried to call for help- before a man walked
in and knelt by her side.
“Good – you’re
awake,” he said as she glanced at the mirror he was holding, seeing the knotted
scarf that sat between her teeth, the band tied round her head. “It is always less of a shock when our new
members wake up before they depart.”
“Whkkhp…. Nhwwmhmbhhrss… Whtsghnnhn?”
“Welcome to
Objects of Beauty, Mrs Robinson - our client promises you a new life, a new
career, as his personal muse.”
Martha stared
at her, before she started to scream and struggle, the sweat making her clothes
stick to her body. The man just smiled
as the door opened, and two black clad men came in, carrying the captive woman
out between them...
Downtown
Barnstable in
the summer is hot, and Bobbie certainly was feeling the heat as she lay back on
the sun lounger, a cold drink on the table by her side. The thirty five year old was wearing a
sleeveless black top and yellow pants, a yellow chiffon scarf tied round her
neck, and white plimsolls.
She could hear
the children playing in nearby yards – but Mister Right had not turned up as of
yet, so she was alone in the afternoon sun.
And that was just the way she wanted it to be.
“Good
afternoon.”
Bobbie turned
her head to the side as she” heard the young girl talking, before she said
“Chloe – what can I do for you today?”
Chloe was the eleven year old daughter of her neighbour, cute, blonde
hair, wearing a blue top and shorts.
Next to her was her sister Betsy, wearing a yellow top and shorts.
“Will you play
a game with us?”
“Oh – what sort
of game?”
“Chloe stopped
Mom talking,” Betsy said, “can we do the same to you?”
Bobbie looked
at them, and then said “why doesn’t your mom talk?”
“I stopped her,”
Chloe said with a smile, “so will you play as well?”
Bobbie was
intrigued, as she said “okay – how.”
“Betsy, help me
for a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Betsy
said as she put Bobbie’s arm palm down on the armrest of the recliner, while
Chloe produced a roll of white tape and made sure Bobbie could not raise her
arm.
“Girls, why are
you doing this,” she said as the two girls walked to the other side and Chloe
taped her wrist down as well.
“To make sure
you can’t stop us,” Chloe giggled as she put Bobbie’s ankles together, and
wound the tape round them as well.
“Well, this
is…” Bobbie then saw Betsy smile as she untied and removed her scarf – before
she watched Chloe remove her shoes, and start to tickle her feet.
“Hey – I’m
ticklish, girls, don’t that – NOIDHHNNHNNHHHHHHHHHH!”
As she opened
her mouth, Betsy stuffed the scarf into the mouth, the yellow material sticking
out between her teeth as Chloe and Betsy looked at her.
“Come on,”
Chloe said as they ran off, Bobbie calling out “GHRRLSLSSS!! DHNTLFMHLHKTHSSSS!”
“Hgrrhtth -
uhshwhwlll?”
Bobbie turned
her head to see the girls’ mother, jumping in from the back yard of their
house, her wrists taped together behind her back, her ankles and legs taped
together, and a white scarf sticking out from her mouth.
“Whtthhlll?”
Mrs Brown
You’ve Got A Lovely Daughter
I was so proud
of how she was coping with what was happening.
My daughter had just returned home from college, and we had gone out for
a celebratory meal – dressing up for the occasion. She had let her brown hair grow long, and she
was wearing a black dress with a white square collar and bow, as well as black
bumps with a bow fastening.
They were the
same style of shows I was wearing, but my dress was a classic black evening
dress with cap sleeves, a brooch at the point of the V-neck. My husband was in his suit – he is, after all
my husband.
The shock came
when we returned home to find three men waiting there, also smartly dressed –
but wearing dark glasses and carrying guns.
One of them made my husband go with him, while we were both told to sit
down on dining chairs.
One of the men
who remained opened a large canvas bag, and took out lengths of brown rope, one
of which he held in his hands as he walked behind me and took my arms round the
chair back. I felt the rope rubbing on
my bare wrists as he bound them tightly together, and then to the centre spar
of the chair back – but I looked at my daughter, and she was calm, composed,
not panicking.
I was so proud
of her.
I tried to find
the knot with my fingers, as he took another length of rope from the bag and
walked behind her chair. I watched,
concerned as he took her arms round the chair back and started to tie her
wrists together, but she looked over at me and nodded. She knew we had no choice in the matter, and
had accepted what was going to happen.
She only winced
a little as he pulled the rope between her arms, and then tied the ends to the
chair back, before he collected more rope and knelt in front of me. I had my ankles together and to the side, as
I had learned, so I watched as he bound them tightly together, and then secured
them to the chair leg.
My daughter was
then bound in the same way, before he took longer ropes, and secured out upper
bodies to the chair backs. I – do not
wish to recall what he did, but suffice to say when he had finished neither of
us could stand up from the chair back, and we really did not want to move.
They then made
sure we could not call for help, by using two white scarves as – I believe they
call them cleave gags. Rolled up and pulled
between our lips, and then tied round our heads, the ends tickling the back of
my neck as they blew in the breeze moving between the rooms.
They watched us
for a while, and then just left us – and not once did we panic, not once did we
call for help until the police arrived.
My husband had let the man with him take the contents of his safe at
work – in exchange for our safety.
Valerie
“There’s a girl
I know, who makes me feel so good,
And I couldn’t live without her, even if I would…”
The song was
playing on the radio as Valerie walked down the stairs, making sure the diamond
drop earrings were firmly in place. She
was wearing a white silk ball gown, with purple lace ruffs at the cuffs of her
sleeves, the hem of the skirt reaching the floor. The only reason it did not touch the floor
was the silver heeled sandals giving her that extra height.
It was the
night of the Anniversary Ball, and she was just waiting for her – her partner
for the night to arrive. So when she
heard the doorbell, she smiled as she made her way to the front of the house,
and opened it to see who had arrived.
“Good evening
Valerie – I trust I find you well.”
She looked him
up and down – tall, broad-shouldered, wearing the required tuxedo, the black
bow tie neatly knotted under the wing collar.
“You do
indeed,” she said with a smile, “but you are not Bernard.”
“No – my name
is Samuel, Bernard is unwell. I trust I
meet with your approval?”
“You most
certainly do,” Valerie said as she looked at him, “allow me to fetch my coat.”
“Actually, I
have a better idea – walk back in, and raise your hands in the air.”
“What did
you…” Valerie looked at Samuel as he pointed
a small gun in her direction, and then raised her hands as she stepped back in,
Samuel closing the door behind himself.
She also noticed the large coil of brown rope that he was carrying in
his free hand.
“Oh no – are
you robbing me?”
“I am indeed –
and I apologise that you will miss the ball.”
He looked round the front room, and said “excellent – I want you to
stand perfectly still, your arms by your sides.”
“Why?”
“So that I may
tie you up and take your valuables,” Samuel said as he put the gun down on a
high table, and then played the rope out, making a lasso as Valerie looked at him. He then passed it over her head and down her
body, before he pulled it tight under her chest and forced her arms into her
sides.
Valerie stood
still, controlling her breathing as Samuel took the rope round her body above
her chest, and then fed the rope under both bands between her breasts, pulling
it up and down before he made a knot under the lower band.
“Please – lie
down on the recliner.”
Valerie looked
at Samuel who was smiling, and then walked over to the leather recliner,
sitting down and then turning as she stretched out with her head resting on the
armrest. She watched as Samuel crossed
her wrists on her lap, and then tied the rope around them to hold them
together. He then played the ripe out,
bending her legs slightly as he wrapped the rope round her legs above her knees,
and then wrapped the remaining rope around and between her ankles so that they
were unable to be separated.
“There –
comfortable?”
Valerie said
nothing as he removed her earrings and put them into his jacket pocket, before
he removed from the other pocket a roll of Elastoplast. Tearing a strip off, he pressed it down
firmly over her mouth, then removed her rings and watch before he turned the
radio up.
She could only
watch as he went to search the rest of the house, twisting round as a new song
started.
“My life has
been a tapestry
Of rich and royal hue
An everlasting vision
Of the ever-changing view
A wond'rous woven magic
In bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see
Impossible to hold”
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