Anecdote Love

Stories and Musings from a girl named Harvey


Leslie’s Morning Part 2 – A Very Nice Dog

The next part of Leslie’s morning was written for the Trifecta: Week 107 challenge.  This weeks word is melt third definition: to make tender or gentle.  To read the beginning of Leslie’s morning or more of her adventures in general  you  can find them here:

A Very Nice Dog

Agates chimed as Leslie cautiously entered the small café.

“Mabel?” she called, approaching the pastry display case.

“Leslie, how ever are you?”  Mabel bustled towards her.

“Did you get a dog?” Leslie asked.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The sign said you have a very nice dog, what happened to Claudius?”

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Leslie’s Morning Part 1

So I am now attempting to write Leslie’s story somewhat chronologically.  This bit is nearish to the beginning and I obviously had a tearoom craving when I wrote it.  Written for Friday Fictioneers.

No cream.  Her small striped jug contained a speck.  It was a “C.C’s” morning Leslie decided and promptly went out.  Leslie first went to “C.C’s” because they advertised “a very nice cat”.  She continued to go because at “C.C’s” she found sunny nooks, a feline to snuggle, exquisite scones, and Devonshire cream for her morning tea.  Plus Mabel, the proprietor, was chatty.  Thus the sensible decision upon running out of cream was not the market, but “C.C’s”.  Upon approaching “C.C’s” on that drab morning Leslie noted an oddity. The purple sign with cream lettering was advertising “a very nice dog”.


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Beginning of the Story

Oh my goodness my story has a beginning !  And here it is the first paragraph to precede all those other paragraphs in Leslie’s ongoing adventures.  The beginning is inspired by this week’s Friday Fictioneers.  To read more of Leslie’s adventures you can check it out here

The front door to her small Victorian townhouse was green.  Leslie bought it for that door.  Forest green with stained glass panels of Art Nouveau flowers.  Green as the grass she read in as a child.  Green as her memories of travels and bruises. Green as his eyes and her heart.  Everyday opening the heavy creaking green redwood Leslie stepped into her blue parlor.  The picture rail holding nostalgic watercolors of now concrete vistas, bookshelves with pleasantly molding words, the yellow pinstripe armchair with a snugly ginger tom ensconced, smell of dahlias and lavender.  Until one day the door didn’t.


A tad about Gregory

This snippet in the unraveling tail of Leslie focuses on Gregory. That most ignominious of polymaths. Written for Trifecta: Week Ninety Six challenge.   This weeks word is animal third definition: a human being considered chiefly as physical or nonrational; also: this nature.   To read more of Leslie’s tails you can jump down the rabbit hole here:

“We’re going to join the warren.” Ed had smiled under his bushy eyebrows and rotting tophat.  “There’s nothing left for us to do here” added Mel in her soft velvet voice, smoothing her skirt.  Their lined faces had looked at him expectantly.  That was at least a century ago.

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A Green Dress

Another little confusing bit of the Leslie puzzle written for Friday Fictioneers I haven’t quite decided where to take this storyline I’m slowly building yet. So interpretations and ideas would be most appreciated!

The dress in the window seemed familiar to Leslie.  Dark green in silk.  Typical 50’s with a petticoat. V-neck and elbow length sleeves trimmed in boisterous ruffles.   She had to have it, despite the $450 price tag.

At home Leslie swayed in the mirror.  The dress fit perfectly, it brought out the amber in her eyes and hair.  It was labeled “G.G. designs”.

The room shifted and a woman in 50s attire handed Leslie a drink.  A crowded room with cigarette smoke clinging to surfaces.  As if she had stepped into a living vintage photograph.  A party?


Leslie in NYC

This story was written for Friday Fictioneers.  Check it out here:  Slightly over word count this week at 107.  Also I had an extreme fascination with the film “Man on Wire” a few years back which also inspired this story.   More on that:

Leslie in NYC, visiting mother.  She intensely disliked both.

Sitting on mother’s white sofa, drinking mocha, staring at the skyline from the penthouse.

“Cheerio” greeted Gregory.

Leslie raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you see it’s an interesting day?”

She shook her head.

“There’s a man on a tightrope at the top of the world.”  He leaned towards her.

Leslie looked in the direction indicated, toward Ground Zero.

“A hole” she said flatly. “A big hole.”

“You’re not looking hard enough.” Gregory adjusted his red bowler and flickered away.

Looking she saw a man on a tightrope between the towers.  Their gaze met.  The next instant he was gone.


Leslie Tills

Leslie was tilling her garden and heard a thunk.  She had hit a rectangle of rotting wood.   Pulling it up she gasped at a gas mask staring back at her.  Grabbing her trowel she started to unearth the mask.  Slowly the top half of a skeleton unveiled.

The bones gleamed white.   The top half wore: a red bowler hat with remaining brown curls of hair, a gray suit jacket with a red silk pocket handkerchief, a yellow and white shirt in small plaid, a black tie, and jet cuff links.  The skeleton was eccentric, well-mannered and familiar to her.

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