I am out to sea painting from the deck of the American Eagle. Schooners were never built with the internet in mind, so my blog has entered nautical twilight. I have left you a few super-short short stories. I challenge you, dear readers, to finish them. The only rules:
- Don’t send me your endings by email or text message—I won’t get them. Instead, leave them in the comments section below.
- Keep it clean. This is a family newspaper. I have enough trouble coloring inside the lines as it is.
A Mystery in a Few Short Lines
The main point my Realtor impressed on me was to not let in any looky-loos in the door without an appointment. “Tourists are just dying to get into these historic homes,” she warned. “If they were really looking, they would call an agent.”
So, of course, practically the very first thing I do is let in a neatly-pressed middle-aged couple. They told me that her great-great-grandfather had actually built this pile and they wanted to see it one more time before it was sold and probably cut up into condos.
And that, my friends, is how I came to be separated from $160,000 worth of uncut stones. You’d think after 44 years in the Diamond District I would know better, but Maine has a way of dulling the senses.
But let me back up for a few minutes here…
Over to you, afictionados!