Martha's Side Of The Make Believe Mountain

They hit the halfway mark and Milan’s tourist rest stop graced the scene, welcoming guest with an achievement accomplishment message, “you hungry?” Cora asked Tina.

“Nah,”

“Wanna continue? Thirteen more and the castle is our conquering goal at twenty-six miles,”

“Nope, let’s do something different,” Tina hinted, drawing attention towards an enchanting forest, haunting the background property, hoarding debatable secrets.

“Take the scenic hike,” Cora clarified.

“Get off the exercise interstate?” Tina laughed.

Leaving the recreation friendly paved route, Cora and Tina ventured towards the gothic woods, curiously invading the tempting trail. Shady confines defined the area where Milan created his historical museum home; allowing Cora and Tina a skipping opportunity through the dirt laden path.

As their peachy clean running shoes confronted nature’s reality, the student athletes discovered something they had no idea existed.

“What is this?” Cora blurted out,

“A cottage mansion, mansion cottage,” Tina defined.

“Actually, the structure is called a one bedroom,” crackled a voice, “and it is mine.”

Quickly turning around, they saw the antagonistic character standing, pridefully returning from completing her protagonist duties, “who are you?”

“My dears, I am Milan’s sister, Martha, the one he took care of, by giving me a roof over my head.”

“Your Martha?” Cora always heard about Milan’s hidden hush hush mystery, following him around like a nasty closet skeleton.

“That is right, I am Martha, not some medal Milan ‘strategically’ earned,” she responded, digging finding keys, “and that is my living quarters.”

“This is where you reside?” Tina asked.

“All year round, my brother’s kind act,” Martha repeated, opening the door, “come in children, hear my side.”

Accepting the invitation, the pair followed Martha, encountering sweet small comfort, “nice,” Cora noted.

“Lovely,” Tina added.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Martha offered and graciously received a reply, ‘yes’.

Once Cora and Tina secured the miniature refreshment gift China cups, Martha started an honest soap box monologue, “Milan as you know was the competitor, I instead just wanted to look confident by acting devious, pretending, portraying someone I am not,”

“Which is?”

“Leather jacket cool, skipping school classes,” Martha stated, “my actions infuriated Milan, and it got so bad he needed to separate me from what he considered the town’s history.”

“How is yours different?”

“Unlike Milan’s objective success determinator using wins or losses, I believe sitting around, discussing things should be prioritized and deemed important,” Martha explained.

“Discuss things?”

“Never ending conversations,” Martha continued.

“Until?”

“The last puff,” Martha smiled.

“Last puff?”

“Cigarettes,” Martha giggled, “the great dialogue prop. Makes you elitist and powerful.”

“Cigarettes kill,” Cora mentioned.

“They will bring the ‘C’ word into your daily conversation,” Tina referenced.

Suddenly, the quaint setting heated up, forcing Cora and Tina to ponder leaving the scene, “We better go,” they informed.

“Before departing, please accept my confession,” the sinister grin entered Martha’s image, “I have done the unbelievable,”

“What?”

“Unleashed the balloon sculpture earlier today,” Martha warned, “a flying cigarette machine filled with smokes.”

“You didn’t,”

“Yes, I did,” Martha confirmed, escorting Cora and Tina, letting them exit without any reason.

Outside darkness fell upon the situation, rendering the verdict, committing not to go any further, especially up to the twenty-six-mile marker podium. Cora and Tina contemplated the issue before surveying their challenging course.

“Cora,” Tina instigated retreating.

“What? A gigantic cigarette machine balloon is headed our way,” Tina nervously expressed, “what are we going to do?”

“I do not know,” Cora suggested.

“Let’s talk to Milan,” and they both agreed, seeing the local exhibition collection center’s evening lights flicker.