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soufcakmistress · 2 years

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Charleston Blues

Part III

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

The tide of the Cooper river rippled towards the sandbank—the water’s surface tension was barely breached. A large animal lurked under the water, its huge paws paddling through beds of lily pads and tall grass. Its massive jaws opened wide and clamped down on a good sized bass and climbed up to the shore. An overgrown jaguar with a drenched coat filled its mouth with fish guts, and easily ripped the spine from the flesh. The cat shook the excess water off and swallowed the rest of the bass whole.

Crickets and lightning bugs swarmed the early Charleston dawn. Frogs hopped around the beach, nursing their tadpoles. The Carolina sun started to peek over the horizon and the cat’s bones began to shift. The jaguar roared as its back elongated and its paws extended into tactile fingers.

Badoru gave Erik the power to shapeshift, which made sense. Erik was always capable of being mutable—he could blend in with any crowd. The jaguar was his father’s favorite animal—this was his way of honoring him and his memory.

It was difficult at first. The first few attempts, he would pass out before he could make the transition fully. Badoru’s explosive power intimidated and overpowered but Erik would always put up a brave face. Badoru pushed him to his limits to conquer this new skill. Badoru spoke of Erik possessing many qualities that could be harnessed, but he had to crawl before he could walk.

Months and months of training and Erik could finally shift on a whim with just a thought. Badoru trusted him enough to roam in public with the full use of his skill. Erik had plenty of laughs scaring white foreign tourists in the Hallasan mountain range when he would run for hours, free as he’d ever been. There wasn’t a Black man alive who could do what he did and live to see another day. He didn’t take it for granted.

Today was opening day for Erik. He’d hired Jerry Brown, an old country sailor from Georgia he ran with overseas to be a full time sales associate. It was a scorcher that day, the temperature amounting to 87 degrees before noon. The store was pristine with navy shag carpet, beige walls with polished wooden shelving, perfectly folded military paraphernalia and jet black mannequins with various Navy and Army sweatsuits. Erik put a sign in his window saying “Coloreds Allowed”, to let the public know where he stood.

Being from Oakland and having his formative years in the North, he wasn’t sure how it would go down in the Jim Crow south. More people seemed to be leaving the South than coming to start a new life. But everybody didn’t have a vicious God protecting their every step.

“All right, J, how do I look?”

Erik fixed his collar in the small mirror in his office and smoothed down his mustache. He wore a navy and white gaucho shirt with the top two buttons loosened, and a white undershirt underneath. There was a solid gold chain that lay right on his pecs, matching the gold watch on his left wrist and the gold tooth in his mouth. The slacks he wore were impeccably pressed with a crease that could cut diamonds. His loafers were shined to perfection, with bright white socks and a tapered haircut slicked down.

“You a bad man, boss!” Jerry teases Erik and he inspected the floor for the last time. He turned the sign over from Closed to Open, and cracked the door open to let in the salty breeze.

“We’re open for business!”

The day was extremely busy and Erik was eternally grateful for Badoru making it happen. The naval base wasn’t far from downtown and he was thankful for the sailors who had the weekend off. Several connections were made with enlisted men and officers looking for rare paraphernalia. Even more, there were several civilian Black men who found their way inside and expressed their interest in purchasing what Erik had to offer in the back. He appreciated that the men of Charleston wanted to protect their families and communities at all costs. Most of all, he encountered people who were held in high esteem in the colored community and welcomed him to the lowcountry with open arms.

Lot of those men also had pretty little wives accompanying them with eyes that wandered. Jerry and Erik were almost overwhelmed with offers of pies and cakes to be brought over to properly welcome the Yankee to Charleston. He couldn’t help it; he was so magnetizing. One woman in particular was the wife of the barber on Meeting Street. She saw Erik’s skin dotted with keloids, and gasped aloud when she caught sight of them. Mrs. Warner had already been gazing at Erik’s broad chest, away from her husband’s watchful eyes. A wink and a flash of those stunning white teeth and Mrs. Warner was a goner.

Chantilly was getting the hang of her new life. She indeed thought differently and utilized parts of her brain that hadn’t been used before. She was cunning now. Drunk with a bloodlust. A bloodlust for vengeance.

She was expected at the Jenkins Institute in an hour and she wanted to get there early. Ursilene revealed to her that this was the time of the month Pastor Dunne dropped off canned goods from Second Presbyterian’s food drive. Tilly planned to volunteer on a regular basis and kill two birds with one stone—support Marla as best as she could and erase Pastor Dunne from all existence. She got her gloves and hat together when the phone in the hall rang.

“Hello, Davenport Residence.”

“Now cousin, the whole Lowcountry been buzzing about you and you ain’t had nan sense to call me and tell me about your newfound wealth! You my blood!”

Chantilly couldn’t do anything but throw her head back in laughter. Her favorite big cousin, Frieda Davenport-Foster, always knew how to brighten her mood. They were inseparable until Frieda’s parents moved them from the island across the bridge. Frieda graduated high school two years before Tilly and she was married to her high school sweetheart, Sammy Foster. Over a decade and four kids later, Tilly and her were finally getting close again.

“Whew lord knows y’all Geechies be nosy! I just blessed to be a soldier fighting in the army of the Lord, cousin! I hope you and Sammy and the chirren are faring well!”

Nothing but babies crying and the clang of a skillet could be heard in Frieda’s background as usual. “I tell you, I been bout tired of these chirren. They run me ragged, I ain’t lie! But that’s not what I called about! It’s about the CNWL. Missy told me to ask you again about you joining us.”

Tilly immediately rolled her eyes. The Club for Negro Women of the Lowcountry had three chapters across Charleston and Dorchester counties of single and married women over the age of 18. They were a civic group focused on empowering colored women in the Lowcountry by culture enrichment, engaging in charity, and uplifting the next generation of colored women. The Greater Charleston chapter of the CNWL was ran by Melissa Owens, Tilly’s childhood archenemy.

“Now Free, I tell you that I don’t fit in with that crowd. They all men obsessed with half a brain cell between them!”

“I gonna ignore that comment since I am the secretary! Listen, you would be a shoo-in. We need some new blood. Badly. With your amazing baking skills, hell we could start a couple initiatives with that alone! It would be good for you! Being around some people your own age, you can’t just give up on life, Tilly.”

Tilly looked at her watch and almost fell out at the time. “Look, I’m running late for an errand Free. I will come to one meeting. If I hate it, I will not return, you hear?”

Frieda squealed like a pig and told Tilly she would let the board know. Their next meeting was in a few days and she would be calling soon to give more details.

“And this is Pastor Dunne. Pastor Dunne, I’d like you to meet Chantilly Davenport.”

Pastor Dunne was tightlipped and very hasty with introducing himself to Tilly. He shook her hand and immediately started barking orders to his outreach volunteers. Not very friendly. Tilly came prepared however. Frieda’s mother, Tilly’s aunt Eunetta, worked roots and taught Frieda everything she knew. In turn, Frieda taught Chantilly. Rose, chamomile, licorice root, damiana, poppy seed, and a pinch of Black pepper ground up in a black sachet, sitting cozy in her left sweater pocket. With the right prayers and incantations, that powder could place anyone under the influence of the worker.

Mrs. Charles, headmistress of the Jenkins Institute was a cantankerous old woman with an incredibly short temper. However, she was one of the most educated colored people in town, and well respected by the white community as well. Her girls were known for being exceptionally well mannered, and if they weren’t adopted before 18, they would go into society as proper young ladies. Tilly saw Marla studying in the common room next to Sheila, whispering secrets and giggling like young girls do. How could that monster want to take away that beautiful light from that girl?

Tilly assisted the volunteers from Second Presbyterian by setting out silverware and plates. Today, the volunteers cooked a hearty lunch for the children, which Mrs. Charles insisted that the children thank Pastor Dunne and the volunteers aloud for their kindness.

Pastor Dunne asked everyone to circle up and stand for prayer. He strolled right to Marla, and Tilly wanted to explode. His clammy sausage fingers enclosed Marla’s delicate hand, and squeezed tightly. The child was clearly perturbed and nervous. And yet, none of the other adults could sense anything was out of the ordinary. The pastor’s prayer was longwinded and hollow. Tilly felt Ursilene’s presence nearby. It was almost time.

After the prayer, Tilly and the other volunteers served the children until everyone was seated. Tilly sat alone at a table not far from some high school aged girls. She didn’t pay them any mind until one of them mentioned Pastor Dunne in their conversation.

“I can’t stand Pastor Dunne. He hands always clammy and nasty. And he always play with my hair. Do he do that to y’all?”

“Yes girl, he try to get me to pray with him alone one time. I told him I feeling ill. I ain’t like how he looked at me.”

Tilly had heard enough. She finished her food and made sure to clear her tray. Pastor Dunne had began hauling some of the heavier catering trays to the church van. Surely, a man of God can appreciate some assistance from a Good Samaritan .

“Pastor Dunne. Let me help you there!” Tilly gathered a box and filled it with napkins, flatware and plates. It was easily over 50 pounds and Tilly didn’t struggle at all, thanks to her powers. Her little feet scampered behind the pastor, while the first streetlight of the evening began to flicker on in the parking lot.

Pastor Dunne had been hot and cold with Tilly all day. At first she wasn’t sure if she would get the chance to be alone with him; he was very cozy with a female volunteer who waited on his every word. Wonder what his wife thought about that.

(This is your chance, Chantilly. Use your power.)

Tilly dropped the box into the back of the van, and tapped the pastor on his shoulder.

“Theodore…”

“Now Miss Davenport, I need to let you know that I am a married man. You colored women are beautiful but you’re so…..aggressive—“

Chantilly blew the compelling powder into Dunne’s face. His eyes immediately rolled back and then dazedly focused on Tilly. The power of suggestion. The power of persuasion. Ursilene knew Tilly’s strengths and weaknesses; one look into her big chestnut eyes, and no one could resist her. This time would be no different.

“Oh Theo. If there’s anything you white boys have, it’s audacity. I wouldn’t let you fuck me with another man’s dick. As a matter of fact…..slap yourself.”

Dunne slapped himself hard, leaving his cheek beet red.

“Again.”

*SLAP*

“Again.”

*SLAP*

“Ahahahahahahaha! You’re pathetic. Get in the van. Drive to Johns Island. Park on Sullivan Avenue, and walk past Ol’ Ravenel’s store. Meet me at 357 Cannonborough. Do not stop for a red light. Do not stop for a stop sign. Exactly 15 minutes. Use the key under the mat and sit in the cellar until I get there. You hear me, boy?”

The pastor nodded like a dunce; any trace of what he was had gone. He was totally under her spell and influence. Her own personal puppet. Theodore’s eyes were aloof and glazed over, and Tilly pulled his handkerchief from his coat pocket to wipe the drool from his mouth. She closed up the back of the van, and sent him on his way.

Fuck those racist tramps, they can find their own way home. Tilly got in her car and drove at a leisurely pace.

Her victim would get there before her. She had to prepare herself. Ursilene required blood to sustain her power. However, she had no physical form and would need a conduit for her power to grow. That was where Tilly came in.

A banshee. When Ursilene inhabits her avatar’s bodies, they turn into banshees. A raging woman with death in her mouth and a blood curdling scream to signify the beginning of the end for her victim. Tilly crossed the bridge onto the island, clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles.

Her mama brought her up to be a good church girl. They believed in the Lord at 357 Cannonborough. However, she wasn’t always under her mama’s thumb. Her daddy’s side kept their abilities and beliefs very close to the chest. A rootworker, at worst, could be arrested and charged for fraud on account that the South Carolina government found no merit in these ancient African traditions that had been retained by the Geechie people. At the least, they could be cast out of the community, labeled as a pariah.

She wasn’t afraid anymore. Her mama was dear to her heart and a newly cherished ancestor. But she had to live her own life, and as a Black woman in this country, she was done taking orders from mere mortals who didn’t live as they preached.

Driving past Ravenel’s convenience store, she saw the van parked very badly around the corner on Sullivan. Pulling up to the property, she kissed Pepper, and poured out some food for her for the night. “You stay in the doghouse for a while, k? Mommy has to go kill a man.”

Tilly walked into her home, and pulled her coat and gloves off. There was a record player in the drawing room and she put on her favorite, Miss Ella Fitzgerald. She turned it up loud. Deafeningly loud. The bop of her scatting followed Tilly to the cellar. Her stacked heels clack down the rickety basement stairs, and who else does she find but the pastor sitting there like a bump on a log.

“Stand up.”

He damn near fell over himself complying with her command. He was like a giant puppy, red faced and eager.

“I’m bored with you. Theodore. Snap out of it.” Tilly snapped and Theodore came to. Those hazel eyes grew big as saucers once he realized where he was. Oblivious to how he got there and what this Black woman was up to, he called her everything but a child of God. Which was true. Ursilene was her mother now.

“Oh Theo, such colorful language. Such a shame that red face of yours aint gon see another day. I know what you did. What you do. You sick fuck. They’re CHILDREN.”

“You black bitch! You’ll be swinging from Angel Oak once I’m through with you! You’re gonna wish you were dead!” Tilly rushed the man and picked him up by his throat. Her strength was off the charts and the man was quickly losing air.

(Focus, Chantilly. It’s time. Open yourself up. We shall be one.)

Tilly dropped the sad excuse for a man to the ground, gasping and hacking for air. Tilly breathed deep and closed her eyes. The light green smoke entered the basement and swirled around Tilly. The pastor cowered and hid behind the furnace and Tilly began to rise. Her eyes rolled back and the green smoke infiltrated her mouth and nose, winding down her throat.

Another set of eyes formed under her brow bone, the whites of them disappearing completely. Her hair stood straight up on its ends, her back bent unnaturally and she let out a howl that shattered every window and mirror in the basement. She was bare now, naked as the day she was born. Tilly, possessed by Ursilene, landed gently on the floor and spotted her prey.

(Come here, you scum.)

The pastor screamed for his life as he was forcibly floating towards her. Chantilly’s voice combined with Ursilene’s terrified the pastor, causing him to soil himself.

(I relish in your terror. There is no greater joy for me knowing that your life will end in pain and suffering. Look into my eyes. For the last time, witness the terror you’ve caused and accept your fate.)

The pastor was babbling like an idiot for his life. His pleas went unanswered. Ursilene showed Dunne the atrocities he wreaked on Marla. And just as Tilly suspected, it wasn’t just her. It was multiple girls throughout the years. And not just at the orphanage. Members of his congregation……..even his twelve year old daughter. Death was almost a mercy for him. But with an ego as large as his, this would hurt him most.

Ursilene had Tilly unhinge her jaw, showing her newly serrated teeth more than an inch long. She ripped his throat out, and what was left of his esophagus bled profusely down her chest and stomach. Chantilly was no longer present. Ursilene’s true nature was revealed. She lapped at his spurting throat, grunting and groaning at the flow of power. Her eyes were crazed, only focusing on sustenance.

Her first kill. The blood flow slowed. Pastor Dunne finally croaked. The seafoam green smoke belted out of her mouth, causing Tilly to stumble on her feet. The extra set of eyes disappeared and her skin no longer felt overheated. Her head wouldn’t stop spinning and her mouth and nose had the distinct taste and scent of metal.

(Justice has been served tonight. Rest, child. You have done wonderfully. I will take care of this. Go, go. Your slumber awaits.)

Tilly looked down at herself. She looked as if she’d bathed in blood. She should have been terrified. At what she’s done. At what she’s capable of. But she wasn’t. Maybe that’s what scared her the most.

“Yes, Ursilene.”

Three weeks later..

“Hey suga. It’s your fav big cousin. Yes it is.” Chantilly cooed over Frieda’s new baby boy Dalzell, named after her favorite uncle. They finally got up together and walked all around downtown. Chantilly assured her that no one would mess with them, and it was true. They showed Dalzell the Battery and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Rainbow Row with all the colorful houses. Market Street with the open air market and former slave market that their ancestors were brought through. Their heritage and history. Fellowshipping with family in peace.

“Let’s go on King. I put my last layaway payment on this dress at Boston’s and that thang coming home with mama!” Frieda exclaimed.

Jewelry stores, pawn shops, convenience stores, old Geechie woman weaving sweet grass, and sweet sweet sunshine. A beautiful summer afternoon. Chantilly’s A line dress was made of linen, and perfect for the scorching day. Her cat eye sunglasses matched perfectly. At the end of the block was that new military surplus store. There was talk that it was supposed to be owned by a colored man. That didn’t happen often.

“Let’s get some ice cream, cuz.” Tilly suggested. It was right next door to the store and there was outside seating. Tilly and her cousin were made to wait after every white person was served before they could get some assistance. Tilly almost said something before Frieda restrained her.

“Tilly…..I got the baby with us. Let it alone.” She was right of course.

Vanilla bean for Frieda and Rocky Road for Tilly. Baby Dalzell was finally drifting off and a bell caught Tilly’s attention.

“Jerry, I’m getting me some ice cream, you want any?”

“I’m good boss!”

Erik closed the front door of his business and swaggered to the ice cream parlor entrance. The sight of him made Frieda halt her sentence completely.

“So Tilly, I was thinking—“

They both stopped and stared. How could they not? This Black man walked like a king and looked like a bodybuilder. He was gorgeous, and the scent of his cologne made Tilly tingle. There were white people inside already waiting to be served and he walked right up to the counter. The worker seemingly took his order and he was taken care of right away! Who was this man???

He strolled out of the parlor, and adjusted the tight shirt on that wide chest of his. The man cradled two large scoops of strawberry ice cream, and lapped at it with the biggest tongue she had ever seen. Tilly had never seen skin like his. Tiny bumps all along his arms and forearms. The outlines of bumps on his pecs formed through his shirt. Apparently the man was a gentleman. He felt two sets of eyes on him, and he tipped his hat to Frieda. But when he looked at Tilly……..sparks flew without her knowing. He scanned her up and down—enticed and intrigued. She sat cross legged, her round thighs warranting a long look.

She pushed her sunglasses down, and he winked at her, and smiled. A ray of sunlight reflected off his gold tooth and nearly blinded her. She gulped as she watched him enter his store and close the door behind him.

Frieda’s ice cream damn near melted away through her fingers. “Goddamn. That’s him?”

Tilly pushed her sunglasses up and resumed eating her ice cream cone. “I reckon so.”

“I saw that, you know. You ain’t slick.”

“What?! What foolishness you caterwauling about now?” Chantilly loudly denied and ate at the waffle cone.

“Admit it, you think he’s handsome! You’re blushing like a damn school girl!”

“My name is Wes and I ain’t in the mess, now leave me alone Free!” She held her laugh in while her cousin teased her. Wasn’t no harm in looking, right?

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rosareversa · 2 years

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Radio Dismuke

Vintage 1920s & 1930s Popular Music & Jazz

Radio Dismuke is devoted to vintage popular recordings from the 1920s and 1930s decades. From the boom times of the "Roaring '20s" to the hard times of the Great Depression...from frantic Charlestons danced to by a generation of flappers to sentimental ballads performed by the early crooners...from the hot jazz bands of the top Harlem nightclubs to the popular dance bands of the formative years of the swing and big band eras, the great music of the 1920s & 1930s lives on and is entertaining a new generation of enthusiastic listeners. Radio Dismuke features original 78 rpm era recordings from the 1925 - 1935 decade and can be heard at no cost from any place in the world where there is an Internet connection.

Travel back in time with Radio Dismuke! Click here to listen 📻

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livingincharleston · 2 years

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Things to Do in Charleston South Carolina

Charleston, South Carolina offers a wide variety of attractions and entertainment for people of all ages and interests. Take a look at some of the most popular attractions in the Charleston area and start planning your next weekend getaway today.

Beaches - Charleston, South Carolina is home to two very popular beaches along the Carolina Coast. Folly Beach and Isle of Palms both offer beautiful scenery and very unique atmospheres. Whether you are looking to spend a day sunbathing, or participating in outdoor recreational activities, these beaches are for you! Folly Beach tends to attract a younger, college crowd, while Isle of Palms tends to attract visitors on family vacation. It is worth taking a trip to both beaches to experience the distinctive features that make them unique. If you decide to head to Isle of Palms, be sure to stop by the Windjammer to catch a great volleyball match and enjoy some live music.

Plantations - Charleston, South Carolina is very well known for beautiful plantations that tell the stories of Charleston's past. They offer a special glance in the past as you tour their grounds and take a step back in time to learn about life in the Colonial South. There are several plantations that are regularly open to the public so that guests may learn more about Charleston's rich history. Plantations that are open to the public include: Boone Hall Plantation and Gardens, Charleston Tea Plantation, Magnolia Plantation and Gardens, and Middleton Place. Learn about day to day activities on a plantation and explore the beautiful scenery at these local plantations.

Shopping - If you enjoy shopping, Charleston is the place for you. Downtown Charleston offers locally owned shops and designer stores that keep visitors shopping for hours on end. From clothing stores, to book stores, to art galleries, to jewelry stores, there is a place for shoppers of all interests! Plus, the Tanger Outlets are just a short distance from downtown Charleston. Tanger Outlet Mall is located in North Charleston and there are several nice hotels in that area. It is a great place to stay because you can avoid the parking fees of downtown hotels, and you have great shopping just around the corner!

Historic Downtown - Historic downtown is filled with rich history and beautiful architecture. There are countless tours available for the local community and visitors alike. Whether you are looking for a romantic horse drawn carriage tour, a walking tour, or a bus tour, there are Charleston tours available for all ages and interests. There are also several themed tours in historic downtown including pirate tours, jail tours, ghost tours and more! After a tour of the city, visitors will want to explore Charleston's restaurants and nightlife. The fresh, local cuisine is delicious and there are countless bars and clubs that offer live music and entertainment.

And there you have it! A quick glimpse of the exciting opportunities available to visitors in Charleston, South Carolina. There are attractions and activities to entertain the entire family for weeks at a time. It is just a matter of narrowing down your options to figure out which attractions interest you most!

Want to know the Cost of Living in Charleston? If you’re among the many people who are intrigued with Charleston, SC, practical matters must occasionally punctuate the romance of this historic city. We provide a breakdown of Charleston’s average cost of living. You’ll see why it’s an average person’s dream retirement community, college town, or place to raise a family.

#Cost of Living in Charleston

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radioactivepeasant · 2 years

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Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Spooky Season is nearly upon us, my loves! And so in advance celebration of the air finally freaking cooling down a couple degrees, I bring you badly retold ghost stories from my home state of South Carolina!

I'd have suggested Florida, since that's where I spent my early childhood, but tbh Florida is just so...Florida...that ghosts can't upstage the shenanigans of the living.

1. The Lizard Man of Scape Ore Swamp

My dude starts out in 1988 with police reports about a woman's car having claw and teeth marks, with muddy footprints and hair left behind. Ah yes, lizards: famously hairy creatures. After a teenager calls the cops about a seven foot tall "green" "wet-ish" critter doing its darndest to go car surfing -- and maybe snack on some teenage drivers if he gets the munchies -- the two reports kinda get conflated and the Lizard Man was born. Very shortly thereafter, the local chamber of commerce realized they could capitalize on a local cryptid, and he’s been a regional meme ever since.

Worth noting: 2 years before our scaly friend debuted, The Swamp Thing was filmed in the same state 🤔

2. Lavinia Fisher, the Demon Barber Innkeeper of Fleet Street Charleston

Because who doesn't like beds that are secretly trap doors, right?

That's the legendary modus operandi, at least. This was the 1800s, so what we know now might be as badly retold as anything I could make up, as a disclaimer.

The story goes that John and Lavinia Fisher ran an inn called Six Mile House, which is a strange thing to name a house, except when you have built it six miles from Charleston. Nice little place, but people started noticing that it seemed to be a branch of the Hotel California: you could check in anytime you liked, but you were never going to leave. But considering the lack of a Yelp column in the newspaper, this took a while to be noticed.

Lavinia would welcome wealthy guests in, make them comfortable, make them feel at home, and then make them poisoned tea. Not enough to immediately kill, just enough to drug them.

Now, you may be wondering what I initially wondered: But Radio, wouldn't they have tasted something odd?

And now I regret to inform you of the peculiarity that is South Carolina Sweet Tea.

Sweet Tea is definitely a Southern Thing around here, but I'll say this: the sweet tea I've had in other typically southern states at least tasted like tea. The stuff we have here around the capitol? It's syrup in a cup. You could put it in a feeder and attract hummingbirds. Pour it on some decorative ivory and your knickknacks will develop cavities. Its served cold because if you drank that much sugar while hot your teeth would instantly mutiny and flee your mouth.

Lavinia could've put whatever she wanted in that stuff and it probably would've been hard to tell. And Southern Manners would mean those poor saps would just pretend not to notice the taste. Either that, or their taste buds were already so destroyed by their own preferred blends of sweet tea that they wouldn't have known the difference anyway.

Once a guest got sleepy, John and Lavinia would show them to a guest room and leave them to go to bed. But seeing as you read the beginning of this section, you already know where that bed is going: straight through the floor.

I don't know how they set that up, but I'm picturing like, the frame just opening and dropping the whole kit and caboodle down.

Supposedly, they kept a row of spikes in the basement for the guest to drop onto. Honestly though, that would tear up the mattress or pallet wouldn't it? That's not a cost effective way to mug your inn guests and still hide evidence. So unless they had an unlimited supply of replacement bedding, we can probably ignore the spikes in favor of the rather more Sweeney Todd theory: that John was waiting downstairs with an axe to finish what the blunt force trauma started.

It all had to come crashing down eventually, of course.

The scheme, not the trapdoor, mind you.

Eventually a guest with taste came along: a word here used to indicate that he could tell the difference between tea and syrup in a cup. When Lavinia made her special brew, he took a sip and had a perfectly reasonable reaction:

But he didn’t want to hurt his host's feelings. After all, we can't all be skilled in measuring an Appropriate Amount of Sweetener. So he waited until Lavinia was busy, and dumped the tea down the sink. Of course, this had the side effect of him not being sleepy when he went to his room. He was still up and puttering around when John and Lavinia pulled the lever, and saw his bed disappear into the floor.

Naturally, he beat feet and informed the authorities that Six Mile House was not, strictly speaking, up to code. As a result, John and Lavinia were arrested and charged with highway robbery and mass murder, for which both were later executed. Nobody actually knows how many people died in the inn, nor exactly how involved Lavinia actually was.

3. One more for the road: Bigfoot

Yes, I said Bigfoot.

Generally, we stick to our Lizard Man, and maybe the Catawba River Runner. But there have been just enough Bigfoot Incidents for police in 2017 to put out a warning for locals not to shoot at any Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) Lest they harm a prankster in a monkeysuit.

Aaaaaand then September arrived. And with it, a surprise cameo by the big fella himself at Hunting Island State Park. I, personally, stand by my theory that many "Bigfoot" sightings are Regular Animals In Places They Definitely Shouldn't Be (like the monkeys that live in Wekiwa Springs, FL). I personally find that explanation both technically still a cryptid, and also very entertaining. Brownish black fur, five or so feet tall, walking upright, according to witnesses.

The park superintendent says he's taking it as a "credible incident", so make of that what you will.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #folklore friday #explaining folktales badly #explaining ghost stories badly #no actual ghosts though #cryptids #bigfoot #scape ore lizard man #sc lizard man #true crime #true-ish crime

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thewinchestergirlblog · 2 years

Text

Hey, y’all! I wrote a book on Wattpad that I am actually quite proud of. This is an exclusive post to help promote it!

SUMMARY:

Ronnie Hennessey is nothing like her friend Tami Spier. She's not a partier, a drinker, and definitely doesn't do hook-ups. And that's how she likes it.

Then there is her brother Tanner. He parties, drinks, and rebels. All along with his best friend Jay Collin- his childhood friend who lives right next door to the Hennessey family.

And Tanner only has two rules regarding his sister and best friend:

1. They must get along.

2. No macking on my sister/best friend.

Ronnie and Jay never got along and they could never see eye to eye.

But when secret feelings are revealed and a relationship blooms- a relationship that could cost a friendship- they must decide how long they can keep the secret from Tanner and prepare themselves for his reaction.

And the heartache that could come with that.

FACE CLAIMS:

KAITLYN DEVER as VERONICA “RONNIE” HENNESSEY

RUDY PANKOW as JASON “JAY” COLLIN

CHASE STOKES as TANNER HENNESSEY

RAIN SPENCER as TAMI SPIER

CHAPTER ONE

I could feel the ocean breeze coming through the classroom window and dance across the room. The smell of the sea was just as strong. It reminded me of what I was missing while I was cooped up in this hot as fuck classroom in a school that didn't seem to know what air conditioning was.

The skin that was exposed around my tank-top (that just passed the dress-code) kept sticking to my chair. I wouldn't be surprised if when I stood up there would be one large puddle of sweat covering the seat. No amount of water chugging could erase the heat.

I fanned myself with the worksheet that Mr. Turner handed out to us at the beginning of class. We were supposed to use it to follow along with the lesson. To me, it was the best source I could find to replace a fan. Other students in the class had the same idea. I could hear the movements of the papers as they went up and down, sending each student a cool breeze to fan their faces.

Mr. Turner was discussing The Fall of the Roman Empire or something Italy culture from a few thousand years ago, when the classroom door creaked open slowly. I looked over, as with everyone else, to see Jay Collin crouching his way into the classroom, his University of Charleston cap shielding his face from Mr. Turner. He was the only senior in junior year history, and it was a class that he always found himself being late for.

Mr. Turner crossed his arms as he sent a deadly glare towards Jay. "Just because you're crouching doesn't mean I cannot see you."

Jay was near the back row of desk when he received Mr. Turner's statement. He stood up with a cocky grin, like always. He lifted his cap up, finally making eye contact with Mr. Turner. "Sorry, Mr. T. I had family stuff going on."

Mr. Turner nodded slowly, not at all convinced. "That is your excuse every time. Try to be creative every once in a while," Mr. Turner exclaimed, annoyed. Whenever Jay was late for class, he would make up some excuse that involved family problems. And it was always about the same family member which made it even more unbelievable.

"My grandmother died," Jay said, obviously lying. And that was the family member.

"That's your seventh grandmother to die this semester." Before Jay could badly defend himself any further, Mr. Turner pointed towards Jay's regular seat, signaling him to sit down. "See me after class, Jason." Jay absolutely hated being called Jason. He told teachers at the beginning of every the semester that he preferred to be called Jay. But most didn't shy away from calling him Jason when they were annoyed with him. Which was frequent.

"Not if I see you first," Jay said sarcastically and leaned back on his chair. Perspiration already coating his skin. Out of all the classrooms at that Godforsaken school, Mr. Turner's was the hottest and most humid. Not even having the windows open could help reduce the unbearable heat.

"And take off the hat," Mr. Turner ordered.

Jay removed his hat from his head dramatically and placed it down on his desk. "Are we good now?" Mr. Turner ignored him and immediately went back into the lesson.

"Hey, Hennessey," I heard a whisper from behind me.

I turned to see Jay leaning forward on his desk a couple rows behind me. "What?" I asked, annoyed.

"What are we learning right now?"

I scoffed and pointed my pen towards the front of the room. "Look at the board, dipstick."

He imitated my scoff. "Who are you calling dipstick, dipstick?"

"Just focus on the lesson. I can always help you with it later," I tried to assure him.

Jay has lived next door to my family for over ten years. We were friendly to each other but that was at the request of my brother, Tanner. Jay is one of Tanner's closest friends. They became close after Tanner invited Jay over to play video games on his new system shortly after Jay and his family moved in. Our home was like his second home. I woke up in the morning and there was a big fat ass of a chance that he was sitting with my family, eating breakfast. He stayed at our house more than he stayed at his. But he did annoy the shit out of me.

I was so relieved when the bell rang, signaling the end of class. As I predicted, my bare skin was peeling away from the chair. I was glad that I had a free period, meaning I could take a detour towards the cafeteria and grab a new water bottle from the vending machine outside the doors.

"Jason, come here," Mr. Turner called out to Jay when he noticed that he was trying to sneak out of the classroom to avoid the lecture Mr. Turner seemed to have prepared for him.

Jay sighed and walked over to Mr. Turner, imitating his stance as they both watched the students file out of the classroom.

Jay saluted me as I walked passed. "See you later, Ron-nosaurus Rex." One of the many nicknames he had given me over the years. And one of the many nicknames from him that I hated.

Without saying a word, I flipped him off and left the room. I could hear him cackle from inside the classroom.

I got a cold water from the vending machine as I planned. I wasn't surprised to see that other students had the same idea. I had to wait for a few minutes just to press a button and get a water.

"Hey, Ron." I turned my head at the sound of my brother's voice. I leaned aimlessly against the wall outside the cafeteria and drank my water, trying to preserve it. "I'm just wondering, at Mom's request anyway, if you are getting a ride home with me or Tami." Tami was my best and oldest friend at the school. She was also my only friend with a license and a car.

I took a large gulp of my water before answering. "Tami's sick. So I guess you're stuck with me."

"Okay. I'm driving Jay home too," he started. "Call it now and you get shotgun and you can be in charge of the radio."

I scoffed at the idea of sitting in my brother's hot car with Jay for the twenty-minute ride home. "I guess I'm calling shotgun."

"Okay, I'll meet you in the parking lot after school." He began to turn away when I stopped him.

"Tan," I called out. "Tell your boyfriend to stop being a pain in the ass to me in class. It's annoying."

He laughed and walked back over. "He's not that bad."

I motioned an accusing hand at him. "The fact that I said, 'your boyfriend' and you knew exactly who I meant is truth enough."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Fine. I'll talk to him."

"Good," I said and took another sip from my water bottle.

Tanner didn't say another word. Instead he took his route to his next class. I shrugged it off and took another sip from my water bottle before heading to the library.

***

Jay was waiting beside Tanner's car when I reached the parking lot. Tanner was never in a rush to get out of school. He was that kid who had many friends. Pretty much tried to be friends with everyone. Jay, on the other hand, was never much of a people-pleaser. It always seemed as if he didn't get the concept of making friends. Only the ones that let him win at Mario Kart when he was seven years old. He was still convinced he won that game fair and square. In other words, my brother was just a huge softy towards him.

He was leaning against the front passenger door of my brother's beat up old Chevy that was older than him and that he bought for an incredibly low price from a sketchy dealer. Jay's hat was back on his head, and he wore his douchey sunglasses.

"Move it, boy who should've been a stain on the bedsheets," I scowled, trying to get to the front passenger door.

He scoffed and leaned off of the door. "Nice insult, Ronald McDonald," he replied, sarcastically. We very rarely called each other by our real names. He always tried to put some version of my name into his nicknames for me. Ronald McDonald was one of his regulars. And also the least creative.

"Do I look like a creepy-ass clown trying to sell food and toys to children to you?" The Ronald McDonald insult would have been even worst if I was a red head.

He tilted his head at me, considering my question. "Kind of. You already got the feet."

I looked down at my feet. Size nine and a half. All thanks to my dad. "I really want to kick you in the balls right now."

He chuckled and took off his sunglasses. The perspiration on his face somehow made his already bright blue eyes look even brighter. "You're just setting this conversation up for a bunch of dick jokes."

Could Tanner be anymore slower getting out here? "I swear, you better not talk to me when we get into the car."

He laughed and put his sunglasses on the collar of his shirt. "You know, you're supposed to be nice to me?"

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. My foot tapping impatiently for my brother. "You and I both know that's only valid when Tanner is around."

"Me and Tan are going surfing after we drop off our stuff," Jay said, changing the subject. "You should come."

"No, thank you," I answered. I enjoyed surfing with my brother. What I didn't enjoy was surfing with Jay Collin. "Tami's home sick and I am going to video call her as soon as I get home."

"She can come too," he countered. Was he serious?

"She's sick, dipshit."

He narrowed his eyes. Not looking too convinced. "Is she though?"

I groaned. My hands forming into tight fists at my sides. "I swear to god, if there weren't so many people around, I'd-"

He smirked. "You'd do what?"

Before I could say, "I'll kick your nuts in," Tanner approached, swinging his keys around his index finger.

"You two ready?" Tanner asked once he was at the driver's door.

"Can you just open the car doors already?" I asked, ignoring his question.

He mouthed an "Okay" and opened his door, clicking the unlock switch. "Were you guys arguing again?" he asked once we were all situated in the car.

"Your sister told me I should've been a cum stain," Jay said, being a bit too over-dramatic.

"I did not say it like that," I tried to defend myself. "And he said I have clown feet."

"I was just stating facts," Jay defended his case.

I could see Tanner roll his eyes as he started the car and rolled down the windows to let some air inside. "I seriously only have two request for you both. One: No macking on my sister. And Two: Be friendly to one another."

"Which would you rather have, Tan?" Jay started in a sarcastic tone. "Me calling your sister a clown or screwing her?"

"I would prefer neither," Tanner said seriously. "And don't talk about screwing my sister. That's gross."

Jay leaned forward in his seat. "Bro, can you stop at the hardware store? I need to get some things for my dad."

"No problem," Tanner said and took the first turn that led towards town.

Tanner soon pulled up to the curb of the hardware store. "Thanks, I won't be long," Jay said and left the car, closing the door a little too roughly for my comfort.

Tanner pulled into a front parking space. When Jay said he won't be long, what he really meant to say was you have enough time to go catch a movie and grab dinner. I pulled out my phone and began texting Tami. All I had to do was text her I am in hell, and she was quick to reply and she always knew what I meant.

"How's Tami doing, Ron?" Tanner asked as he impatiently drummed his hands on the steering wheel.

"She's doing better," I answered, not taking my eyes off of my phone screen. "She may stay home another day or two though."

"Does she know what she has?"

I nodded. "Stomach flu mixed with food poisoning."

He grimaced. "Eck."

"I know, right?"

"Can I ask you something?" he asked after a moment of silence.

I wrote Tami a quick reply to one of her texts and put my phone down. "Sure."

"Can you try to be a little bit nicer to Jay?"

His question caught me by surprise. It wasn't as if he never asked me that before. But I guess the twentieth times the charm. "He starts it half the time."

He huffed. "Yeah, I know. It's fifty-fifty with you two. And I'll talk to him. I'd just really appreciate it."

I reached over and soothingly rubbed his shoulder. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you." He paused for a moment. "You know his parents are going through a divorce, right?"

I was pretty sure everyone knew. "Yeah. But haven't they been going through this divorce for like three years?"

"Yeah. But Jay's dad just got the papers back from the court to sign. He just needs a break is all."

"Fine."

Our lovely sibling bond was ruined when Jay jumped into the car with a grunt. "Now, if we could stop by my dad's mechanic shop so I could drop this shit off. Thank you."

Tanner scowled and turned around in his seat to cast a warning gaze at Jay. "Do I look like a personal chauffer to you?"

Jay actually seemed skeptical for a moment. "Not quite. You need one of those hats that look like a Frisbee."

Tanner groaned. "Fine. Is it still at the same location?"

Jay laid down in the backseat. "Yup, sir." He moved his cap down to cover his face.

This was going to be one long twenty-minute car ride home.

***

The boys were quick to grab their surfboards and drive down to the beach as soon as we got home. Tanner dumped his book bag in the entryway, almost making me trip over it. I kicked it to the side to get it out of the way. Mom would have a fit if she was the one to trip over his bag.

I finally had the house to myself once Tanner closed the front door when he left. At least for another hour.

I pulled out my phone as I walked into the kitchen to get a snack. I opened up Tami's contact and sent her a video call request. She answered a couple seconds later.

"Hey, girlie," she greeted me in a raspy voice followed by a cough.

"Hey, to you too," I greeted back. She coughed again. "You sound awful." I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. My fifth one that day. My water intake had to be through the roof.

"It's this damn medicine they gave me," she replied and held up a medicine bottle. "It burns the shit out of my throat. I guess it's supposed to fight bad bacteria in the stomach or some shit."

I hopped up to sit on the counter, swinging my legs over the side. "Awe. Well, I hope you get better soon. School has been awful without you."

She took a gulp from her water bottle, trying to sooth her aching throat. "Yeah? How's motor dick treating you?"

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. I knew who she meant. "He annoyed me in history class and then after school he told me I have clown feet."

"What is he? Five?"

"I mean, he did say this after I told him he should've been a stain on his parents' bedsheets."

She nearly choked on her water. "Is it just me or are his comebacks getting dumber? I have better material than clown feet."

I laughed while grabbing an apple out of the plastic bowl beside me. "I think it's the both of us. He's running out of material."

Her eyes glistened as if she had an idea. "You should make him sexually frustrated. That will be a sure-fire way to get him to shut up."

"Yeah, I'm not doing that."

She groaned in frustration. "You are no fun."

I laughed again. I loved talking to her. "I am not going to tease him to make him sexually frustrated. That's gross."

She scoffed and took another chug of her water. "Am I the only one who senses some major sexual tension between you two."

I pretended to think for a moment. "Yes, you are."

She rolled her eyes. She knew I would never admit to something like that. Mostly because it wasn't true. "Whatever. Are you still going to drop off my homework tonight?"

I smiled, so glad she was changing the subject of the conversation. "Yeah. My mom will drive me over once she gets home from work."

"Okay," she said before coughing into her elbow. "You can just leave it in the mailbox. It's germ central here."

"Noted. We have to read chapters five through nine by Friday for English."

She held up a finger to tell me to wait a second while she took a long chug from her water bottle. "Sounds good. It will give me something to do. I've been cooped up in this house for two days. I'm bored."

I gave her a soft laugh. "I promise, we'll do something amazing once you're feeling better."

She lifted her water bottle as if she was calling a cheers. "I'll hold you to that."

I heard the front door open and close with a near slam. At first, I thought it was Mom, but she wasn't due to come home for a while. When I heard their voices, I knew right away that Tanner and Jay had come back. My guess was that the waves were sucky when they got there.

I groaned. "The boys are back."

Tami laughed followed by a cough. "They weren't gone that long."

I shrugged. "I guess the waves weren't that good today. I'll see you soon."

She blew me a kiss. "Love you, girlie."

I blew a kiss back. "Love you too. Bye." I hung up right as the boys entered the kitchen. "You're back early."

"The waves sucked," Tanner said while pulling two waters out of the fridge for him and Jay. "They barely hit two feet."

"Yeah," Jay began. "We should've checked the site first. We don't surf unless it's at least six feet."

"Maybe we can head to Charleston and Folly Island this weekend. Maybe their surf is better. It always seems to be," Tanner told Jay right before he took a sip of his water, Jay following suit.

Jay slapped Tanner on the chest. "No way. There's that bonfire Saturday night. We can't miss that."

I could tell Tanner was mentally slapping himself for forgetting. "What about Sunday? We'll have all day."

Jay shook his head. "Can't. My dad wants me to come into the shop and help out or some shit."

"Since when is he open on Sundays?" Tanner asked.

Jay shrugged. "Since he needed the money. He's open seven days a week now and he works all of them."

"Shit." Tanner shook his head and took another sip of his water. "We can work up a plan to go to Charleston."

Jay turned to look at me as if he was just then noticing I was there. "Are you going to come to the bonfire? It's just drop-in."

I shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" Jay asked. "It's going to be pretty chill and it's right on the beach."

"Maybe if Tami is feeling better by then, sure."

"There's going to be drinking," Tanner warned. "If you come, you promise to stay away from that shit?"

I smirked, mostly to annoy him. "Depends. Will you be drinking?"

"That's not the point." He was definitely planning to be drinking. "I just don't want to explain to Mom why you're hungover on a Sunday."

I crossed my arms. "I don't drink. You don't drink."

Jay burst out in a fit of laughter. "Dude, you're getting scolded at by your little sister."

"Shut it, ball sack," I warned him.

"Can I at least smoke?" Tanner asked, trying to meet me halfway.

I thought for a moment. "Fine. Just don't come home as high as a kite." I hopped off of the counter and headed for the stairs. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."

Tanner gave me the finger as he chugged his water. I rolled my eyes and proceeded up the stairs, wanting to get all of the notes for Tami in order before I headed over to her place.

TO READ THE FULL STORY, GO TO WATTPAD AND SEARCH UP “RIPTIDE”. MY USERNAME IS SarahSwartz (I’m having trouble posting the link on here)

#wattpad #writing #writer #writing community #kaitlyn dever #rudy pankow #chase stokes #rain spencer #riptide #author #south carolina

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nyc-cpw · 2 years

Photo

How Lincoln Center Was Built (It Wasn’t Pretty)

Lincoln Center officially opened in 1962. The remainder of the construction project surrounding it was completed by 1969.

By Keith Williams Dec. 21, 2017

Q. How many people were displaced by the construction of Lincoln Center, and what happened to them?

A. Lincoln Center was the crown-jewel project of the Mayor’s Committee on Slum Clearance, which was overseen by Robert Moses, the man who reshaped the city in the mid-20th century. The “urban renewal” plan, which leveled 18 city blocks on the Upper West Side, also included educational, commercial and residential facilities.

The project displaced more than 7,000 lower-class families and 800 businesses. Few, if any, of the 4,400 new housing units were intended for the area’s previous residents, who were almost exclusively black and Hispanic. Even worse, the relocation assistance promised by the committee never materialized.

“Moses was not making even a pretense of creating new homes for the families displaced,” Robert A. Caro wrote in “The Power Broker,” the Pulitzer-winning biography of the planning czar’s life and career.

Many of these evicted New Yorkers instead crammed into other low-income areas like Harlem and parts of the Bronx, deepening the rift of segregation and, ironically, creating new slums in a different part of the city.

“Slum clearance has increased overcrowding among the lowest income groups; low-cost public housing has often created new ghettos,” said James R. Dumpson, the city’s first black welfare commissioner, in a 1959 speech.

Before President Dwight D. Eisenhower broke ground on the new project in 1959, the neighborhood, called Lincoln Square, was a vibrant one. It was here that James P. Johnson introduced the Charleston, the dance craze of the 1920s, and Thelonious Monk perfected his bebop style of jazz. It was also incredibly crowded: as many as 5,000 people lived on a single block.

The area was informally known as San Juan Hill, possibly in honor of a black cavalry who fought in Cuba during the Spanish-American War.

More likely, the name came from the violent street battles that often broke out along Amsterdam Avenue, which was a racial dividing line: whites to the east, blacks to the west, many of whom lived in a sunken area called “The Gut” on West End Avenue.

“The feeling between the two is always hostile,” The Times wrote in 1905 of the two neighboring groups. “It comes out on this borderland.”

After World War II, Puerto Ricans began moving to the neighborhood. Leonard Bernstein based the “Sharks” in “West Side Story” on this group; the opening scene of the 1961 film adaptation was recorded in the ruins of Lincoln Square.

The city had already targeted San Juan Hill for redevelopment once, evicting more than 1,100 families, most of them black, across three blocks to build the Amsterdam Houses in 1948.

By the late 1950s, the Metropolitan Opera had outgrown its home on 39th Street; Fordham University in the Bronx wanted a satellite campus near midtown Manhattan; and the New York Philharmonic was about to be evicted from Carnegie Hall. All three looked to Moses for help.

As they had in other parts of the city, notably the Lower East Side, Moses and his Committee on Slum Clearance used a provision of a federal program to claim this land through eminent domain. The law, Title I of the 1949 Housing Act, gave federal backing to “urban renewal” projects that created middle-class housing.

The 16.3-acre Lincoln Center campus was inaugurated in 1962; the remainder of the project was completed by 1969.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/12/21/nyregion/how-lincoln-center-was-built-it-wasnt-pretty.html

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mouseclarke · 2 years

Note

I got sent here for David headcannons.

YES I GOT ONE. I FUCKIN GOT ONE. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. He has been on my mind for months now.

- For his appearance, I think it differs between pre and post-war. The general gist of his appearance being white, with light reddish-brown hair starting to turn grey and light blue eyes. He was probably clean shaven before the war, but after the war he probably has a lot of stubble on his face, a lot of combat scars, and a large scar across his right eye that has caused him to lose vision in said eye.

- At some point, he bought his way into getting a vault spot for him and his family. As well as Rosaylnn. Except we all know he was on holiday when the bombs dropped. (I didn’t make this one up. This was @chaosintheavenue)

- Going off that one, I believe he had a reservation at the Sierra Madre Casino & Resort maybe a few months after the opening.

- Bastard has definitely been to Vegas a few times, either because he wants to party or on business. (You know that one episode of "Don’t Tell The Bride" where the wee guy tries to plan a wedding in Vegas but it cost so much that the bride's brother couldn’t be invited? Well, the follow-up interview with him said that he and his mate went to Vegas multiple times after it.) That’s David.

- He’s 100% from West Virginia but has been out of state for so many years that his accent has been diluted. But still, he’s a local.

- I don’t think he grew up in a working class household, nor do I think he was extremely wealthy. Probably in a comfortable middle class, leaning to upper class, household.

- Likely grew up in the comfortable suburbs of Charelston. His father was a business man (likely a junior executive or a marketing agent (Think “Mad Men”)) and his mother a stay-at-home wife.

- Defentintly had a few siblings. Maybe an older brother, a twin (*COUGH* Josef, *COUGH*) and a half sister from one of his Dad’s affairs.

- I don’t think his father was a good man and likely shaped him into who he was. I’m not saying his dad was a terrible parent, but I do think he was a cruel husband. Constant cheating and a lack of respect for his wife since he fell out of love with her, yet he was too scared to divorce her.

- Inittally went to VTU for a year and a half because his best friend was going there before they transferred. So David took up his Dad's offer and went to some Ivy League university (Idk where. He probably went to Dartmouth College or Brown University.)

- He would 100% be one of those kids to be on the debate team.

- He has lived in a fair number of states. New York, Connecticut, Maryland, Pennsylvania.

- I do think his children were still young when the war happened, but I don’t think they were extremely young. Maybe around 8-13.

- I also think he only had two children with Rita. A boy and a girl.

- Now to get into the Rosalynn stuff. I firmly believe she and David met at some university career fair and it became love at first sight.

- Rosaylnn joined Arktos as an intern to get some extra credit for her chemistry degree, and David couldn’t have been more ecstatic.

- Of course, David kept his professional manner up the entire time, but he wanted Rosalynn so badly and all her casual flirting made it way worse.

- Likely at some work party, Rosalynn acted on her feelings and kissed David. Thus the start of their affair.

- They frequently vacationed at the Whitesprings or Pleasant Valley because 1) David enjoys golf and 2) Rosalynn enjoys the snow up near the mountains.

- David’s a pipe smoker. He’s also a man who quite often drinks (not like full blown alcoholism, but it’s slowly leading down that path).

- After the war, David was desperate to get off the ski resort. I'm thinking of any plan or scheme to get him and Rosaylnn off. When Harland and a few other survivors went down to Charleston for help, David went with them since he knew what the city was like.

- There in Charelston, he found out that his daughter had died, and it made something snap inside of him. David changed that day from a high-ranking business executive to the possible future CEO of Arktos Pharma into a caulatuing monster.

- Soon after taking over Pleasent Valley, he soon turned into a stone-cold man, refusing to show any emotion and desprate to keep all the power he had in his firm grasp.

#thanks for the ask!#anon #fallout 76 #David Thorpe #Rosalynn Jefferies #headcannons

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makeoverhomes · 4 days

Video

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Makeover HUD Consult - Mike Grossman - Convert Fellowship Hall to Home -...

Consultant - Mike Grossman - #A1229 - Makeover Consulting and Inspections Contractor - Kyle Moriarty - Collaborative Construction Lender - Terry Terzakis - Cross Country Mortgage Realtor - Andrew Williamson - Andrew Williamson Realty This was a pretty cool project. If you want to live in a nice city like Charleston, SC you sometimes have to get creative. With a vibrant real estate market, finding a suitable home was difficult as is any many markets around the US today. If you are able to be creative you can pull off a project like this! This borrower took what was once upon a time a place/house of worship with a large meeting room and public restrooms and converted it into a single family home with a full kitchen, beds, baths, and everything. The Makeover Process really saved the day and allowed this borrower to move into a location they otherwise would not have been able to. If you need help being creative or bringing a house back to life give us a call at 463.252.0027 Reno Cost $230,000 Masonry - $450 Siding - $14000 Roof - $6500 Ext Painting - $9500 Windows - $900 Int Doors - $5000 Framing - $16500 Drywall - $11000 Int Painting - $9000 Wood Trim - $7200 Closets - $2000 Flooring - $12000 Tile - $9000 Bath Accessories - $3000 Plumbing - $16000 Electrical - $21000 Heating and Cooling - $25000 Insulation - $5000 Cabinetry - $18000 Appliances - $6500 Demo - $10000 Other - $22000 Order a HUD Consultant https://makeover-app.com/Marketing/Coverage/HudCoverageMap For help building a 203k Dream Team https://makeover-app.com/Main/Web/ClientIntake Check out our Website www.makeover-homes.com #makeovermortgage #makeoverfinefinishes #hoosiers #columbus #indiana #realtor #realestate #house #fixerupper #fliporflop #flippingcolumbus #realty #home #rental #investment #biggerpockets #realestateagent #hgtv #property #commercialrealestate #buyandhold #rentals #landlord #carhartt #dewalt #makeoverhomes #makeoverrenovation #makeoverrealty #203k #203kcontractor #203kconsultant #203kindiana #203klender #203kloanofficer #203krealtor

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noelcollection · 1 month

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Memorial Remembered

The last weekend in May for many Americans is a celebration for the start of summer, it marks the opening of boating ventures, open pools, and the opening of beach houses. However, how well do we know the history of this American holiday? The observance of the last Monday of May is a call for friends and family to remember the fallen war heroes, all over the world there is a day selected to moan and remember the uglier side of history with the laying of wreaths and poppies penned on lapels. It is likely that we may think that this is a day originally dedicated to the lives given for World War I or WWII.

The U.S. National Cemetery Administration website (https://bit.ly/3yJdNow) has the history of Memorial Day in great detail; but it will briefly be given here. In years following the Civil War, communities throughout America decorated the soldiers’ graves with floral wreaths in the spring as decoration days, which can be traced to Roman and European traditions. The federal holiday was originally called “Decoration Day.” The Grand Army of the Republic, an organization of Union veterans, proposed the Memorial Day Act, or General Order No. 11, as a way of formally establishing a day for the nation to remember the soldiers fallen during wartime with flowers on May 5th, 1868. GAR was led by Major General John A. Logan. The Major General had been aware of the informal memorial efforts and their origins, even citing the practice in a speech he gave in Salem, IL on Independence Day in 1866. However, The Grand Army of the Republic formally accredited an anonymous comrade, it was another member of the organization that recounted their native German traditions of paying homage to cemeteries by spreading flowers on graves. The act of remembering the lost as a result of the Civil War was happening throughout the affected States, a trio of women in Boalsburg, PA would adorn graves of soldiers in October 1964, while another group in Charleston, SC held a large memorial on May 1st, 1865.

General Order No. 11 called for May 30th to be the observation day to ensure that the best springtime floras would be available for all graves all over the country. Major General John A. Logan’s additions to Order No. 11 urged the nation to never forget the Civil War’s human cost. It was New York that became the first state to officially recognize the holiday in 1873; and other formally Union states followed in the observance of Decoration Day by 1890. It would not be until 1966 when President Lyndon B. Johnson recognized 100 years of Memorial Day event held on May 30th in New York, that the full observance of Memorial Day. The occasion changed from Decoration Day to Memorial Day, and officially became Uniform Monday Holiday Act in 1968, designated the last Monday in May as Memorial Day in 1971.

The James Smith Noel Collection does have a hardy collection of print resources that discuss the American Civil War, we also have one text that focuses on Major General John Alexander Logan. The book in discussion is the Life and services of Gen. John A. Logan as soldier and statesman by George Francis Dawson (https://bit.ly/3QWR1zO), the edition house within the collection was published in 1887 by Belford, Clarke and Co. The boards are in a deep green with a black embossing with some gold decoration on the spine and cover. The end pages are printed with floral decoration. There is a frontispiece photograph of John A. Logan. There is also a personal letter written by his wife as a preface. The Major General was born February 1826 in Murphysboro, Illinois to Dr. John Logan and his second wife, Elizabeth. John A. Logan began his military career after enlisting in the 1st Illinois Infantry during the Mexican-American War.

The book details his life in several parts; before, during, and after war. He was accused of being a Succession sympathizer. His efforts at Bull Run, the Battle of Belmont, Northern Mississippi Campaign, and many others are greatly detailed. Logan remained strongly political after the Civil War. There is a particular portion of the book which is “Part IV.-Logan on the Presidential Ticket.” Logan was a Demarcate before the war and sided with the Republicans post-war. He was one of the House managers in the impeachment trial of U.S. President Andrew Jackson. He was also the second Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic from 1868 to 1871. Logan was nominated for Vice-President in 1884, though he personally was not in favor of the nomination.

The Major General began to experience illness in December of 1886, his cause of death is not given but by mid-December his arms began to swell and he experienced pain in his lower limbs. Doctors said his condition was fatal, John A. Logan reposed on December 26, 1886. His body lay in state in the Capitol and was formally buried in the mortuary chapel of the United States Soldiers’ and Airmen’s Home National Cemetery in Washington in 1888.

#special collections #books and libraries #rare books #american civil war #american history #memorial day

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