Mystery
A place in the country
A place in the country. Peace and tranquility. The garden looked neat and tidy, too regimented for a real country cottage garden, but appealing to “city” types looking for a home in the countryside. The whole cottage had been tarted up to sell to incomers. Local people could not afford the price demanded and would not find the strict order and magazine decor fitted to their real rural way of life. Muddy boots and sweat stained jackets would spoil the appearance for incomers while the locals had to live with mud and muck as part of their everyday work. The prim and organized estate agent, who called herself a life style adviser; would be horrified to think of herself as a sales person, pure and simple. Yet that was her job, selling overpriced country cottages to people who did not actually belong in the rural working community. She earned a hefty commission from the actual sales and from organizing the refurbishment work, mostly done by a firm owned by her brother, working from his fancy office in a large town fifty miles away, she regarded the cash he paid her as simply family gifts and not as a kick back for the blatantly inflated prices paid for the work done by his casually employed, on basic minimum wage, immigrant labour force. A work force who followed orders and patched up and painted over areas that really needed rebuilding. “New” kitchen appliances were sourced from a reconditioning, without guarantees, workshop belonging to her brothers brother in law. This whole enterprise was very profitable and the suitability of the purchasers to the noise and activity of a working agricultural area were never even considered, Most viewings took place when the tractors were silent and the cattle safe in the fields. The conveyancing lawyer was her husband and nearly all buyers could be persuaded that things would go much quicker if they used the same firm for their side of the legal formalities. There was also another money stream in this operation. The original owners of the property did not get a fraction of the price paid by these incomers. They sold to a property developer who technically purchased the property before refurbishment. This firm was based in a tax haven and the administrative details were dealt with by the same law firm as handled the later sales. When the original seller eventually got their money, they found a lot of expenses, which they had not anticipated, drained thousands from the money they banked.
By Peter Rose5 years ago in Fiction
East Texas Barn of Wonders
All my life I lived in Texas. My parents were attorneys and both of them wanted me to follow in their footsteps. This was not what I wanted, but I completed law school and worked with my parent’s in their law firm. I did not want to disappointment them, and this was the only path to take at the time.
By Silvia C Corella5 years ago in Fiction
Saving Senna
The wind swirled and the darkening clouds slowly rolled in over the bay, but Senna couldn’t see behind the tears welling in her eyes as she blindly ran towards the open water. Hitting the waves like a raging bull in a china shop, she lost her balance and fell into the foamy but shallow water, and prayed the waves would take her far away. Letting herself float for a few minutes while she closed her eyes, her brain replayed the incident automatically.
By Ashleigh Holmes5 years ago in Fiction
The Song from Outside
Nursing her coffee for warmth, Teresa sits on the porch swing to enjoy the serenity of the dark forest. With a sigh, she gently pushes back with her pedicured feet to start swinging. She smiles contently, resting her head on the seat back and draping her long brown hair over it.
By K. T. Scott5 years ago in Fiction
Wrong Place at the Right Time
Sophie raised her head at the shuffling sound from outside and flicked off a wood chip that was stuck to her cheek. She rolled over onto her back and with her non handcuffed hand, shovelled a few pieces of wood chips from her bed. She was lucky enough to be given a blanket and a crib mattress, yet somehow, she still couldn’t keep the wood chips off of it.
By Rachel Aikema5 years ago in Fiction
