The Apology

Hello there. Glad to meet you. Sorry about that, I haven’t hurt anyone before. What’s going on? Well, my story is straight forward. I’ve been here a long time, so I guess I’m the expert on what’s going on. My name? You can call me Gray, if you must call me anything. I am not sure why I was posted here. I was given a choice between this place and another one. I didn’t know. I just chose this one.

I admit that it was all very different when I first arrived. You should have seen it then. It was a private residence, of course. There was so much land, the nearest neighbor was a mile away, at least. There was park land with manicured lawns and trees. Gorgeous. Formal gardens with flowers and shrubs. Oh there was even a pond with a fountain. All of it was so pretty.

There were delicate ladies dressed in satin and lace, who screamed so loudly over the slightest thing. And the men, so handsome and gallant. Their screams were delicious. Things are just not the same now. The men are so surly and the women, well they act more like men then the refined ladies I had so much fun torturing.

They were so snooty but their screams were so satisfying. I never laid a finger on them. I didn’t need to. No one ever took any physical harm from me. I suppose the snooty people who owned the place lost their money because they started selling off the land. Other houses were built around the house. Then they turned it into a boarding house, which was fun. I had a more esoteric clientele then. The people weren’t so snooty. The children were the most fun. They screamed so delightfully.

Then they tore the original building down and put up a bowling alley of all things. By then most of the land had been sold and more houses built. The bowling alley wasn’t as much fun. It was too noisy and I couldn’t compete. After a while, people stopped bowling here and it was empty for a long time. It was all so boring. They tried a theater here but it didn’t last long.

I can’t tell you why I haven’t been transferred elsewhere. Things are so different now. I guess I was forgotten, but I kept trying to follow the rules as I was told to do. Anyway, they tore down the bowling alley and built this place. Honestly, I don’t know why it has to be open all the time. But, here we are, me a gray lady from times long gone and you, a stock clerk with a bad heart. You are the first person I’ve scared in about a century. Sorry about the heart failure. It wasn’t my intention to cause you any physical harm. Would you mind doing me a favor when you go for assignment and remind them that I am still here? I’d like a transfer. It’s rather demeaning for someone of my skill and refinement to be haunting a twenty-four hour grocery store.

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About

I am not one who is comfortable talking about myself but here goes. I enjoy writing, family history, and reading. I decided to do this blog because I wanted to try something new. I decided to make it a weekly blog because I wasn't sure that I could keep up with a daily one, and monthly seemed like I was writing a magazine. I think I did ok with my choices. You'll notice that there are not a lot of graphics on my site. That's because there are graphics plastered everywhere on the Internet and those sites sometimes take forever to load. This blog is a place where you can kick back, relax and be ready to be amused. At least I hope I willbamuse you. This blog is on a variety of subjects from my ficitional cat agency, the FFL, which is monthly, to instructional blogs to editorials, which are my opinions only. I admit that I don't know everything and could be wrong -- I frequently am. Now, stop reading about me and read what I have to say!

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Posted in Fiction

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© Lisa Hendrickson and Pebblepup's Writing Den, 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lisa Hendrickson and Pebblepup's Writing Den with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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