Episode 3

Grimm Times
7 April (that was only last week)

ETTERSBURG: Constable Dickens of the Ettersburg police has asked for civilian assistance in the apprehension of two suspected villains.

The Ettersburg police are looking for two men. The first is in his mid-30’s. He stands 5 foot 7 inches tall and weighs approximately 130 pounds. He has shoulder length red hair and is clean shaven. He was last seen in a well-tailored, purple coat of tails. He goes by the name of John Richardson.

The other is a 6 foot 2 inch male who goes by the name of Amin Rsika. He is reported to be 54 years old with dark hair and notable facial hair. Mr Rsika often dresses as a cowboy.

The two men are sought in relation to fraud and kidnap.

Any information leading to their arrest will be greatly rewarded. If you have information that can help the police in this or any other crime, please call 1 800 435787.


And now I had names for two of the men in the photos. And these are the types of things that I have had shoved through my door’s mail slot since I moved to the city.

The other three articles were similar to the first. At least they didn’t add any additional information other than these two men were traveling across the continent from East to West. Four cities, each closer to mine.

The contract was interesting, if short.

You, Jack Hill, will be employed by GBH to locate the men known as Amin Rsika and John Richardson. Upon supplying the current location, you will be rewarded with $40,000 for each man.

Good luck, Mr Hill.

And was signed by Mr HC Andersen.

I headed to my den and flipped my computer on. I scanned the paperwork again. There was currently no contact details for Mr HC Andersen. I wondered if that would change with the information on the computer disk.

Episode 2

As the fog in my mind began to clear, I found out that, in fact, my day could get worse. Much worse. Okay, technically it wasn’t the same day but I hadn’t gone to bed yet…so…

I did a body check. I hurt but what hurt was the question. My legs and arms seemed to work and my body, though undoubtable bruised, was okay; but my head was experiencing perhaps the most savage pain I have felt as an adult. As I sat up, my vision spun and my stomach threatened to reveal the contents of my lunch.

I rolled over onto my knees and hands and crawled to my couch. I’m not quite sure how I got up on it or how long I was there before I came back to the real world, but it was well past morning when I woke.

I still hurt but my head was less cloudy and painful. I sat up and the world stayed steady, so I figured that things were okay.

My front door was still wide open. I was fortunate that my stuff was still here. Obviously no one had seen it open. As I walked over to shut it, I realised that I must have slipped on the several envelopes that were now spread about the entry.

I reached down and collected them. Most were the general bills and junk mail that seems to be shoved through my door more regularly than I would like. The last was a large manila envelope, sealed and with a careful block lettering: Jack Hill, private investigator.

I dropped the letters on my kitchen table, grabbed a snack and headed to the shower. The bathroom mirror revealed that I had cracked my head hard enough to draw blood.

After I was clean and changed, I went back down to the kitchen, made a cup of strong coffee and sat down with the manila envelope. I turned it over and had a better look at it. My name was in purple ink. There was no post mark and no return address. I hesitated before opening it. I love mysteries so leaving the contents unopened for a while played on my interests. The heel of my boot had squarely on the corner of the envelope and there were a few drops of blood on the envelope back.

As I slipped my finger under the lip of the paper and pulled, it came as no surprise that I cut myself. I really should have just used the letter opener on my desk but that would have required a walk to my den. So, the paper cut was my reward for being lazy.

Inside the contents included several photos, clippings from newspapers, what looked like a contract and a CD. I stood and wondered into my den, flipped on the computer and shuffled through the photos and clippings while I waited for it to boot.

There were three photos. One was of a wealthy looking man, nicely presented but otherwise unremarkable. The other two were photos of this man with two others. The two others were far more interesting. One was dressed in long flowing black clothing that recalled the old west of yore. He was a man of maybe 50, with dark hair and a long waxed moustache and waxed eyebrows. I instantly thought of the villain in the old vaudeville stories. The other was a much younger man. Maybe 30, he was weedy and clean shaven. His red hair formed ringlets to his shoulders and they brushed his red and purple morning suit. His gloved hands held a grey top hat with a brilliantly bejewelled hatband.

Then I turned my attention to the news article.

Episode 1

I looked at the golden letters on the glass of the door - Jake Hill, Private Investigation - This cemented the knowledge that I have the worse luck of any living human being on this planet. Two thousand dollars that I can't afford and they couldn't even get it right.

'I'm sorry, Mr Hill,' said the incompetent signage worker. 'The earliest we can fix the spelling is Tuesday fortnight.'

I shut the door and locked it. A quick glance at my watch confirmed that I am, yet again, late. I had promised to walk my neighbour's dog tonight. Evidently the little monster had a ritual and being late means a mess.

***

Moggs, the feral little biter, lived up to the hype. It took me an additional 40 minutes to clean up the dog poo, what was once a potted plant, and a pillow from the bed.

It was well past dark when I headed home and I was elated to stumble into my door as I unlocked it. As I stepped through, I felt my feet slip out from under me in the gloom of the doorway. I sailed through the air and collided with the floor. My last thought - How can this day get any worse? - then blackness.

A breakdown in the schedule

I would like to apologize for the missing updates to this blog.

I have had some user issues with the program I use to blog and have managed to delete the story (amazing, I know). So, I will be posting the first three episodes over the next three days to catch up.

This means that on Friday I will be reposting episode 1, on Saturday I will be posting episode 2 and on Sunday I will be posting episode 3 and a new poll.

Again, I am sorry for being unreliable on posting. I am currently looking into ways to avoid this in the future and to be more reliable.

~ Nixie

Episode 1

Nixie, where the heck is my story?!?

'Where's the story?' I hear you say.

Well, it's not long now. I have a rough outline and some words have been written...so I thought that I would give you a quick update (or more truthfully, I would tell you when you will have a story).

New 'episodes' of Keeping Tales will be published on Sunday evenings (Australian time). A poll will accompany each post and that poll will close on Wednesday. Then I will write the next episode to be published on the following Sunday.

I believe that this will work well, but if it doesn't, I will let you know the changes via another of these information posts.

My whole objective of this blog is to have fun. So please vote and post comments. I look forward to hearing from you. Oh, and if you are not liking the story, make sure to let me know so that I can write something that you will enjoy.

Talk to you all soon.

~ Nixie

Your First Poll

First off, thank you for coming to this blog. I am looking forward to writing this; I just hope you like it.

Now it's time for your first task (hey, this is not just my story). Please vote on the poll below. It will be active for a week. You may vote for more than one. If your favorite is not listed, feel free to post a comment.

Regarding comments: there may be teens reading the blog so please keep it clean. I will moderate things if I have to... If you are under 18, please speak with your parents about commenting before you do so.

Okay, time for you to get busy. Off you go...I can't write this until I know what to write.