You might be amused to read one of my early fiction efforts. I think I wrote this piece when I was in high school. Here it is and I’ll give some commentary on it at the end.
THE CYCLOPS OF TYRANNOSAURUS PEAK
I am going to tell you the most blood-curdling story that has ever been written into the annals of time. Back into the mists of prehistoric ages the story will take you on a horrifying journey into that which has previously been unknown to man.
But wait! We must begin in a different time, where this all began. It begins with a stranger on a spring night. His name was David Koestler. He walked slowly down the Main Street in the little town of Charlottesville. His hat was pulled down and the shadow it created made his features indistinct and unrecognizable. H seemed to have no particular destination in mind until he reached the Butler house on the corner. He paused as if not quite sure; then took a decisive step towards the door. We must leave him now to pursue his quest alone.
Another important event must be duly noted in the course of this history. Across the street is a brightly lighted house from which one can hear the sounds of joyous laughter from both children and adults. Inside is the happy family of Mr. Bartholomew, the music teacher in the local high school. His oldest daughter is sitting on the rocking chair. Her face is bright with reflected laughter as her sister makes a fool out of herself by pretending to be their mother. Their oldest brother is rolling on the floor, a far cry from his usual dignified self. their other brother is holding the baby in an extremely precarious position as he joins in the fun. Their mother and father are watching the entire proceedings from the kitchen. She is pretending to be offended while his eyes are twinkling with mirth, the tired lines in his face relaxing for the first time in months.
Into this happy domestic scene we must inject a note of tragedy. A shadow is about to pass over this house. It will not be lifted until each has undergone many heart-breaking trials.
The unsuspecting Bartholomew’s did not know of the lurking evil that might have been just minutes away. But David Koestler did. He was sent to crush, kill or destroy it. But there was one thing he did not know, and that was what it was. He had also been sent there to find that out too. He was prepared for something big enough and strong enough to kill him with one blow, but as he used his binoculars, he saw something on Tyrannosaurus Peak. It was big. It was huge. He put the binoculars down and rubbed his eyes, then put the binoculars on again. It was still there, but most fantastic, was that it looked far more bigger and stronger than he had ever expected. But then it disappeared. His eyes strained to find some traces of it, but he could find none. It had just disappeared and that was that.
He then knocked on the door of the Bartholomew house. The oldest daughter, Leslie, answered the door.
“Hello,” he said, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in rough country like this?”
Leslie blushed a rosy red. Then she answered him.
“Well, you darling thing, I’m not rightly pretty at all,” she said, as if expecting another compliment. And he seemed to read her mind, for that is what he gave her.
“Why yes you are and you know it” he said. “You’re just modest.” Leslie blushed again, this time a poppy red.
“Well, whoever you are,” she said, “What do you want?” Her manner was surprisingly rough and she seemed to forget that he just gave her a compliment.
“You see,” she tartly said, “I don’t rightly take to young men that just come up to a woman that he hardly knows and acts like they’s married. It just ain’t right. And you ought to know it, too.”
The young man looked at her in surprised and said, “I have to offer you my deepest apologies to you. I guess I just wasn’t thinking right. You see, I’ve just taken the long way up the mountain to find a house to rest at in the town of Charlottesville, and yours was the first one in sight, so I just figured if I say nice things to you maybe you will let me stay here for the night.” This said, he backed off as if he were going to look for another house to stay at.
“Wait!” Leslie cried, “I didn’t mean to scare you off with all my rough talk. I guess you can stay tonight. But I’ll have to ask Ma or Pa first.” With this she disappeared into the house to ask her parents. As soon as she disappeared out of sight, she went to her Pa and said, “Oh, Pa, there’s just the handsomest man you ever saw at our door, and he wants to stay overnight. Isn’t that grand? Will you let him stay Pa? Please?” She then stopped for a breath.
“Well,” said Pa, “Let me have a look at him first. For all you know, he might be a criminal type or something. Let’s just think things over carefully, okay?”
“Oh, Pa!” She said mournfully, “How could you think he was an indecent man or something like that? Iffen only you could see him.”
I desperately want to believe that I wrote this in a satirical fashion, but alas, I think it’s the real deal. I don’t know about you, but I laughed my whole way through as I read this. So many things promised and not delivered – although I suppose one may assume that I had planned to write more. The “dialect” is hilarious! This is clearly written by a young girl, since nobody else would write a story in which a mysterious young man comes to the house wanting to stay overnight and “Pa” doesn’t immediately turn him out on his ear.
I hope you were as entertained as I was.
The best part of the whole post is the drawing my son Ian did many years ago, not realizing it would be so appropriate for this story.
Iffen the handsomest stranger comes to the door asking to stay overnight, I’ll have my husband turn him out on his ear before deleting this post.
Lynniebeemuseoday 