Wicked Strange: A Collection of Short Stories

By Pam Lesemann

Wicked Strange: A Collection of Short Stories allows the reader to enter a world that tickles the imagination, where the impossible becomes possible, and wishes really do come true. The stories stretch from the paranormal to the fringes of futuristic science. You will meet Pennewyk, a cat who has a way of solving unpleasant issues, a greedy couple of antique store owners who get more than they bargained for, a miserable housewife dreaming of a better life, an elderly woman and an old lover, a teen who has a haunting summer vacation, a woman of the future who is obsessed with keeping up with the Joneses, and a couple of strangers who change a little mountain community forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pam Lesemann
• Release date: Sep 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311973955

Pam Lesemann

Pam was born in Charleston, SC into a military family. She has lived all over the United States and in Japan and Germany. Much of her early life was spent traveling from post to post with her parents and four sisters, instilling in her an appreciation for other cultures and the history of the world. She has been a voracious reader all of her life. Her interests include ancient history, alternative science, anthropology and archaeology.Presently Pam spends her time writing, researching and painting. She lives in a small town near Atlanta, Georgia with her husband, Steve, her three dogs, Carly, Clyde and Willie, and her cat, Koko.

Book preview

Chapter One

Damnedest thing I ever saw, the grizzled old man told the policewoman. I was taking my daily walk past her house when I saw the body. I could tell he was dead, his head all twisted around like that and his eyes open.

Detective Amy Armstrong wrote in her notebook and then paused. She looked at the desolate old shack where the man’s body had been found lying at the bottom of the worn brick steps. It was getting colder and the wind was starting to pick up. The dead, dry leaves made crackling sounds as they skittered across the yard. She shivered, not sure if it was because of the fingers of icy wind reaching into her jacket or the macabre scene she had recently witnessed.

A loose tendril of brown hair, an escapee from the tight ponytail she wore while in uniform, whipped across her vision. She impatiently brushed it aside and focused once more on the stooped man who gazed at her through watery blue eyes. And what did you do then, Mr. Bennett?

Well, I stepped around him, real careful-like – I watch the police shows on TV and I know you’re not supposed to touch anything – and went into the house to check on Mabel. I saw her lying on that old couch of hers and I could tell she was dead. Such a shame. Nice old lady. Never did anyone any harm. She was beat all to hell and back, just lying there, her cat right up next to her just a-purring. That man must have tripped when he was running out and fell down those steps. Damnedest thing I ever saw.

And then what did you do? the detective asked.

I high-tailed it out of there and went back to my house and called you.

Did you recognize the deceased male? Detective Armstrong asked without looking up, continuing to write in her notebook.

No. Never seen him before. We don’t get many people out this way. I think someone in town must have told him Mabel lived out here, a recluse, and he figured she might be hiding some money.

How long had you known Ms. Morgan?

Lord, I guess it’s been twenty years or more. She was living here when I moved in down the road. Always felt sorry for her. No family. At least, I never saw anyone visit her. Kids around here all thought she was a witch. Kids can be mean, you know. Wouldn’t go to her house on Halloween but stood out front and called her names, then ran.

The detective looked again at the shack, half hidden by bushes and dark skeletal trees, and thought back to the crime scene, the shabby interior, the savagely beaten old woman sprawled across the tattered couch, cat toys scattered around on the threadbare rug. What a sad end to a long life, she thought. She turned back to the old man.

Thank you, Mr. Bennett, for your help. I’ll be in contact with you if we need anything more.

As Detective Armstrong put her notebook away, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Coming around the side of the weathered shack was the largest cat she’d ever seen. Dark with a bushy tail, he slowly walked up to her and rubbed his side against her pants leg and then looked up at her with golden eyes.

Is this Ms. Morgan’s cat? she asked Mr. Bennett.

Yeah, that’s Pennewyk. Don’t know what will happen to him now. Guess he’ll go to the pound.

No, the detective said as she bent to scratch the purring cat behind the ears. He’s been through enough. It just so happens that my sister has been thinking of getting a cat. I’ll take him, and if any of Ms. Morgan’s family come forward and want him, we’ll see to it that they get him.

Wouldn’t hold my breath, Mr. Bennett commented. All that poor old woman had was her herb garden out back and that cat. Don’t understand why anyone would hurt her. She didn’t have anything worth stealing. Seems to me that man got what he deserved.

The old man looked at where the dead man’s body had lain sprawled at the bottom of the brick steps and softly mused, God works in mysterious ways.

That He does, Mr. Bennett. That He does.

Chapter Two

Pennewyk was stretched out with his head resting on the edge of the loft over the living room. His golden eyes were trained on the front door as he waited patiently for Andrea to come home. He heard the car, then the click-click of high heels on the cement walk. Keys jangled in the door lock and the door opened. Momma was home.

Pennewyk was beautiful and he knew it. His human petted him and told him so all the time. A large Main Coon cat, he was a dark sable in color and had a thick ruff around his neck and a bushy tail that signaled his moods. He stretched and with tail held high, he rushed down the stairs to greet Andrea.

Andrea leaned down and caressed Pennewyk’s sides as he rubbed against her bare legs. It was nice to have someone to come home to after a day at work, she thought. A silent thank you went out to her twin sister for putting them together.

He followed her as she went into the kitchen, took a can of his favorite tuna from the cabinet and served it to him in his special bowl. She leaned down and petted him again, saying, You’re Momma’s sweet boy, aren’t you?

Pennewyk lifted his hind quarters in response to the pressure of her hand and continued to eat.

It was Friday and Andrea was tired. It had been a rough week at work and she was relieved that the weekend was finally here. She walked back into the living room and kicked off her high heels, shrugged out of her suit coat and threw it across the back of the sofa. She climbed the stairs to the loft where she had set up her desktop computer, turned it on, and with some excitement accessed the dating site’s email.

Her match had emailed her to confirm tonight’s date. She smiled and responded to his email, telling him that she was looking forward to finally meeting him in person. With that done, Andrea showered and began to get ready for her date.

Pennewyk had finished his dinner and gone in search of Andrea. He found her applying makeup in front of the bathroom mirror and he perched on the marble countertop to watch this mysterious ritual. When she turned the faucet on, he leaned over and drank from the spigot while she petted him. They exited the bathroom together and he ran down the stairs in front of her, hoping that Momma may want to give him a treat; after all, he was her sweet boy and beautiful, too.

The doorbell rang. Andrea’s date was early. She went to the door and opened it with a prepared smile on her face. A tall attractive man stood there and Andrea was pleasantly surprised that he looked exactly like the photo of himself that he had posted on his dating site profile. He wore his blond hair combed back from his forehead and the brilliance of his blue eyes competed with his smile.

Hi, she said brightly, You must be Dan. Come in.

Andrea Armstrong, I presume? Or her twin sister? he replied. Andrea dutifully laughed and led him into the living room.

She offered Dan a seat, but since Pennewyk was stretched out on the back of the sofa, he settled into the club chair. Andrea sat on the sofa with Pennewyk at her neck, his golden eyes staring unblinkingly at the stranger.

This is Pennewyk, Andrea said. She gestured with her outstretched hand which then settled to pet the cat along his back.

How do you do, Pennewyk? Dan said to the cat with a smile. He looked back at Andrea and said, Time to go or we’ll be late for our reservation. I thought we could have a drink before dinner.

Okay, I’ll go grab a coat in case it cools off later, Andrea said as she disappeared up the stairs.

Pennewyk jumped down from the sofa and slowly approached Dan. When he got to Dan’s pants leg, he sniffed and Dan reached down to pet him. Pennewyk backed away. His smell was wrong. Something was bad about this person, but Pennewyk wasn’t sure what it was. It was a smell he’d encountered before. Pennewyk hissed and retreated underneath the coffee table, the hair on his back raised up.

Little bastard, Dan whispered.

Andrea came down the stairs with a light coat draped over one arm and holding a purse. I’m ready, she sang out.

Dan got up to walk with her to the door, his hand on her back.

Oh, wait a minute! I forgot to leave Pennewyk something to play with while we’re gone.

Andrea walked over to a table, pulled out a drawer and withdrew three small brightly colored balls. Bending down, she rolled the balls toward Pennewyk. He ignored the balls but came out from under the coffee table and sat at a distance, small meows issuing from his mouth as he stared at Andrea.

Momma will be home soon, baby, Andrea placated Pennewyk.

She and Dan left through the front door leaving Pennewyk staring at the closed door, tail twitching.

Chapter Three

Pennewyk was bored. It had been a long time since Momma left with the stranger and he had tired of playing with his toys. His favorite game was to carry the tiny balls, one by one, up the stairs and then bat them with his paw until they bounced down the stairs. He liked to watch them until they were almost at the bottom of the stairs and then he would run to see if he could catch them.

He never left the tiny balls on the steps. He knew that bad things could happen if he left his toys on the stairs. When he first came to his new home, he