Crosswords2 mins ago
A Novel Idea.
6 Answers
The Haunting of Chalet 49.
It was a strange case indeed, mused private investigator Steve Glandular. Stroking his ample chins thoughtfully. Whatever was happening, smacked of the paranormal, either that, or a cunning, and clever opponent…..or opponent’s were indulging in a free vacation.
Let me elucidate, or even explain.
This is an average holiday chalet rental site, consisting of about two hundred occupied and unoccupied chalets. It was enjoying a wet and windy summer on the South coast of England. Except that one of these holiday lettings wasn’t behaving as is usual in the circumstances.
Chalet 49, looked the same as all the other one hundred and ninety nine breeze block, and casually rendered rentals. Except that it was rumoured by a strange and snivelling gardener to be haunted. Weird noises, as if of suppressed giggles were heard, the chink of glasses often rang out around midnight. There was also a strong odour of wine lurking` each morning. I was reliably informed by a passing alcoholic that it was Prosecco. There was also the scent of expensive perfume lingering upon the wallpaper. Yet, nothing nor anyone was ever seen. Neither by the old blind couple that rented next door, nor by the special needs family that kept wondering around the site looking for a bus stop.
The sites owner a Mr Stroke’me assured me that chalet number 49 was not being rented out because the leaseholders, a couple of Nigerian pocket pickers had disappeared up the Mekong Delta with several bundles of pockets in their possession.
So what in blaze’s was going on?
I decided to stake out the place, surreptitiously, I secretly secreted myself securely in an oversized deck chair that I covered over in a rather fetid tarpaulin….
I would wait until the chinks at midnight!!!.
Unfortunately, I fell asleep. I awoke around 2am, fell asleep again until 4.30 when I was woken by the smell of toast. I immediately shed my disguise, including the blonde wig and golden monocle that was a family inheritance. This was now time for disclosure…..
A fine looking couple looked at me rather bemused, as I opened the chalet door….without knocking. Yes, can I help you? said a rather striking lady, striking me with a baguette. ‘Glass of wine old bean’? said the man with a cheeky grin and a worldly expression. Mistaking the grin for a sneer, I sneered back and fell over the carpet.
It transpired that Mr and Mrs Peabody, for it was they, had purchased number 49 from an auction site on the internet. It was all bona fide as the Romans used to say.
We met as strangers, we parted strangely. Ben, for it was he, had insisted that I measured his waistline. I did, we hugged, he said he would write. Jane, for twas she, looked rather aloof, but it turned out she was watching a pigeon. She was charming, erudite, but her elegance masked, In my opinion a certain disdain for the lower orders of humanity, or even to humanity in general.
To which I heartily concur. Happy travels.
It was a strange case indeed, mused private investigator Steve Glandular. Stroking his ample chins thoughtfully. Whatever was happening, smacked of the paranormal, either that, or a cunning, and clever opponent…..or opponent’s were indulging in a free vacation.
Let me elucidate, or even explain.
This is an average holiday chalet rental site, consisting of about two hundred occupied and unoccupied chalets. It was enjoying a wet and windy summer on the South coast of England. Except that one of these holiday lettings wasn’t behaving as is usual in the circumstances.
Chalet 49, looked the same as all the other one hundred and ninety nine breeze block, and casually rendered rentals. Except that it was rumoured by a strange and snivelling gardener to be haunted. Weird noises, as if of suppressed giggles were heard, the chink of glasses often rang out around midnight. There was also a strong odour of wine lurking` each morning. I was reliably informed by a passing alcoholic that it was Prosecco. There was also the scent of expensive perfume lingering upon the wallpaper. Yet, nothing nor anyone was ever seen. Neither by the old blind couple that rented next door, nor by the special needs family that kept wondering around the site looking for a bus stop.
The sites owner a Mr Stroke’me assured me that chalet number 49 was not being rented out because the leaseholders, a couple of Nigerian pocket pickers had disappeared up the Mekong Delta with several bundles of pockets in their possession.
So what in blaze’s was going on?
I decided to stake out the place, surreptitiously, I secretly secreted myself securely in an oversized deck chair that I covered over in a rather fetid tarpaulin….
I would wait until the chinks at midnight!!!.
Unfortunately, I fell asleep. I awoke around 2am, fell asleep again until 4.30 when I was woken by the smell of toast. I immediately shed my disguise, including the blonde wig and golden monocle that was a family inheritance. This was now time for disclosure…..
A fine looking couple looked at me rather bemused, as I opened the chalet door….without knocking. Yes, can I help you? said a rather striking lady, striking me with a baguette. ‘Glass of wine old bean’? said the man with a cheeky grin and a worldly expression. Mistaking the grin for a sneer, I sneered back and fell over the carpet.
It transpired that Mr and Mrs Peabody, for it was they, had purchased number 49 from an auction site on the internet. It was all bona fide as the Romans used to say.
We met as strangers, we parted strangely. Ben, for it was he, had insisted that I measured his waistline. I did, we hugged, he said he would write. Jane, for twas she, looked rather aloof, but it turned out she was watching a pigeon. She was charming, erudite, but her elegance masked, In my opinion a certain disdain for the lower orders of humanity, or even to humanity in general.
To which I heartily concur. Happy travels.
Answers
1 to 6 of 6
It is certainly entertaining - I enjoyed it very much on second reading --- but it is rather sparse and short for a novel. There is a good basis for a short story here.
T.b.h. I don't know if you are genuinely seeking advice - or having us on!
If you want to really write a short story (anything from 15,00 - 3,500 words), I repeat that it is a promising scenario.
I look forwards to seeing the finished product. :)
T.b.h. I don't know if you are genuinely seeking advice - or having us on!
If you want to really write a short story (anything from 15,00 - 3,500 words), I repeat that it is a promising scenario.
I look forwards to seeing the finished product. :)
1 to 6 of 6
