My journal of big words and pretty pictures
Goodwood Duxford tales… Goodwood Duxford approached the somber burial crypt with as much anxiety as the first time he went out to wrangle a wayward Gramberly spirit. Knocking on the heavy iron gate, he wasn’t sure if the dearly departed Grace Leighton would answer his entreaty. She had earned her long, peaceful rest. What Goody … Continue reading Another man’s wife
Goodwood Duxford tales... Late into the night, Goodwood Duxford, caretaker and ghost wrangler for Gramberly Cemetery, and Lilith Trotter, Goody’s best friend and recently departed, perused old cemetery records, Duxford family scrapbooks, and internet resources, trying to recover the names of each of the 13 fatalities in the 1954 Gallatin Bros. Circus and Sideshow Fire. … Continue reading To mask the grim
Goodwood Duxford tales… Foregoing any pretense of calm or daring, Goody and his eclectic group scrambled away from the brick piles, across the open field, racing over the footbridge and back into Gramberly Cemetery proper. Goody closed the rustic gate, setting a binding on it in an attempt to keep the Banished spirits in the … Continue reading Gambling man
Goodwood Duxford tales… The sound of clicking dice echoed around the woods and open wild grass field. Absent were birdsongs and cricket chirps. No squirrels, no rabbits, no fox, nor raccoon chittering warnings to the unseen intruders. Two unsubstantial men, dressed in an odd formal suit and dirty work clothes respectively, kneeling inside a broken … Continue reading Odd man out
Goodwood Duxford tales... The mound of bricks was a haphazard scatter of broken masonry columns mixed with single terra-cotta bars, still a vibrant burnt orange. Tuffs of green poked up through cracks along the outer perimeter, but the weeds and field grass were remarkably tame considering the decades of opportunity to overwhelm the pile. The … Continue reading The walls came tumbling down
Goodwood Duxford tales... The group of ghosts and living stood at the trail head of a path that wended through old growth oaks draped in curtains of Spanish moss. That it was mid-day, and the sun was blazing in a cloudless sky, did not take away from the eerie atmosphere of the woods. A representative … Continue reading A load of bricks
Thin spiral notebook 