Everyday Musings

By Sharon C. Williams

The little things in life are worth remembering.

There are moments in life that stir the senses. Moments of joy, moments of surprise, and moments that can cause great fear. Moments that cause us to reflect on the experiences we’ve encountered.

Dive into various worlds of the author’s own making. Everyday Musings is full of tales of the unexpected, heart-warming stories, and bittersweet poetry. Come in and turn the page. Discover the little things that make everyday worthwhile.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LDB Press
• Release date: Sep 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370496631

Sharon C. Williams

Sharon C. Williams is a native of New England, raised in Northern Maine. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and son. She is also owned by a flock of seven birds.Sharon has a B.S. degree in Chemistry. She loves to read, sketch, take pictures, walk, exercise, go to the movies, and listen to music. She is a budding bird watcher, and knits on the side. She is a huge sports fan of baseball, basketball, hockey, and football.Two of her short stories were published in the anthology, "Cassandra's Roadhouse” and two in “Dragons in the Attic” which was written by her writing group. The Wonder Chicks. Her children's chapter book “Jasper, Amazon Parrot: A Rainforest Adventure” was released by Fountain Blue Publishing in September of 2013.Sharon stays busy as her comedy novel about her war with her backyard squirrels, “Squirrel Mafia” was just released in Spring of this year.

Book preview

A Short Story & Poem Anthology

Copyright © September 2016 Sharon C. Williams

Published © September 2016 Lysestrah Press

Cover Art Design By: L. B. Cover Art Designs

Edited & Formatted By: S. H. Books Editing Services

All rights reserved.

The author retains sole copyright to her contributions to this book.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the publisher.

For information and inquiries, please address: Sharon C. Williams, via [e-mail].

Any similarities to any persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cassandra’s Roadhouse Anthology

Squishing The Tatas (Short Story)

The Other Woman (Short Story)

Dragons In The Attic Anthology

The Door In The Tree (Short Story)

Jasper Series (Children’s Book)

Jasper, Amazon Parrot: A Rainforest Adventure

Jasper: Rainforest Friends And Family

Root Canal (Short Story)

Squirrel Mafia Series (Nonfiction)

Squirrel Mafia

The Wedding Bouquet (Short Story)

To my husband and son, who bear with me whenever I have the need to write.

Cover

Copyright

Also By

Dedication

Acknowledgments

The Howler Of Aroostook County

Fooled By Appearances

Jake

The Waiting Game

Root Canal

Chapter 1: Something Isn’t Right

Chapter 2: A Painful Existence

Chapter 3: A Temporary Reprieve

Chapter 4: Pain-Free . . . Maybe?

Chapter 5: Smooth Sailing

Chapter 6: A New Leaf

Dream On

The Bird Fluffer

ICU

Memere

Burnt Money

A Haunted Bugaboo

Gone

Squishing The Tatas

Seven Days

The Man In The Tree

The Other Woman

Why

The Wedding Bouquet

Father O’Leary

Birds Of A Feather

About The Author

To my beta readers, who helped me tighten up these stories inside the book. I thank you.

To my lovely editor, Nancy, whose is truly worth her weight in gold and then some. Thank you for your time and dedication with this project.

To those who have supported me with this project by giving me their time and patience.

THE LEGEND passed on down from generation to generation was what folklores were made of. It started when a couple of hunters went camping in the forest surrounding the town.

The first night was uneventful. The second night, as the two friends turned in for the night, a howling penetrated the woods. Wolves were not known to be a part of that section of the state. Thus, the sound caught them by surprise.

The two men decided to let it slide. In their minds, the howling was nothing more than a figment of their imaginations.

Several minutes later, they heard it again. The howling sounded like it was close to camp, directly from the side of their tent. Full of curiosity, they decided to check things out.

A shadow, caused by the flickering fire, was cast against the canvas of the tent. The outline filled the entire canvas, its size unknown. Before they could react, claws ripped through the material.

Not concerned with leaving anything behind, the two men bolted, hoping to make their escape. They turned along the way and caught a glimpse of a creature they had never seen before.

It stood on two legs, a small tail swishing back and forth behind it. The creature tilted its head and stared at the men. Moments later, it howled, its eyes glowing in the moonlight.

Both men ran as fast as they were able. They made it back to their truck, starting it as quickly as possible. In seconds, they were gone, leaving the unknown creature behind.

The next day, the men told anyone who would listen about their encounter. No one believed them.

Bringing the sheriff and other hunters back to their base camp, they found the camp in disarray. Things had been tossed about. The tent was tattered, and footprints that no one recognized were embedded in the mud.

The renowned hunter, Stephen Bullock, was soon sent a casting of the footprints. Even he was stumped.

From that day on, a strange howling could be heard throughout the woods.

I WILL never forget what happened one night while I was out with my cousin, John. I mean, who could possibly forget? No one had ever seen one of these creatures to date, though John and I had heard the stories told from generations before us all our lives.

The older generation called it the Howler of Aroostook County. The county was where John and I grew up. Only a few had ever seen what this creature looked like. Those who did either didn’t believe in what they’d seen, or their descriptions of the creature were sketchy at best.

The more reliable story came from a young man named Turner, who would hunt in the woods with his friends. One afternoon, he and his friends piled into his pick-up truck, ready for what they all thought would be just another hunt. In their minds, they’d be having a little fun with pals who’d grown up together in the small town of Sinclair. Plans had been made to leave on Friday night and camp at the location where the hunt for deer would be done until Saturday morning.

The men set up their tents, unpacked their goods, and got a fire going, talking trash to each other as they cooked their evening meal. Most were tired from a long week of work at the paper mill in the next town over.

It was soon time for the friends to go to bed and get a full night’s sleep. The next day would be there soon enough.

Everyone had heard about the Howler. Most thought it was just a legend the old men talked about when they gathered around a checkerboard at the neighborhood store to pass the time. No one knew where the creature came from, or if he was the only one of its kind.

The loud wailing that could be heard from the woods did the townsfolk no favors. People who camped in the area reported food being taken from their campground, tents being slashed to pieces, as well as footsteps being heard outside their tents.

Turner and his friends didn’t believe in the stories they’d been told. Tales told by old men, is what he would say when asked if the stories were true.

That all changed the night they went to bed. Turner was awakened by the sound of a few branches snapping near the fire pit. He was a light sleeper, and the unexpected sound jolted him awake. Convincing himself that it was nothing, he turned around in his sleeping bag and tried to go back to sleep.

More twigs snapped closer to where his tent was pitched. Goosebumps formed on Turner’s arms.

This is ridiculous, he said to himself. It’s probably nothing.

The flickering fire outlined a shadow against the side of his tent. Raising his eyes, the shadow extended all the way up to the top of the frame.

Turner gulped. Getting out of his sleeping bag, he quickly crawled to the back of the tent, intent on pulling up the material so that he could escape. The fabric didn’t budge. Damn, he had to be good at tying knots!

Turning around, he saw that the shadow was still standing outside of the tent.

Using its claws, the creature started to tear through the front part of the tent.

Shit!

A sudden howl pierced the night air.

Without wasting any more time, Turner pulled out his knife and sliced the ropes as fast as he could. He slid under the tent’s edge and ran, afraid to look behind him.

His friends had also heard the sound and were busy hightailing it back to their vehicle as fast as they could, leaving everything they’d brought with them behind.

Getting to the vehicle, Turner fished the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

The men piled in.

Turning on the lights, the head beams lit up the area in front of them.

The Howler stood snarling in front of them. Standing at about eight to ten feet tall, the creature was hairy from top to bottom. Each hand had five claws, one just as long as the other. Its eyes glowed bright and yellow. Drool dripped out of the corners of its mouth. The creature raised its chin and emitted another loud yell.

Turner panicked and backed up the truck as fast as he could before turning around and racing back to town.

Depending on whom you asked, a good many had a hard time believing in the boys’ words. To this day, Turner and his friends haven’t returned to the woods.

The stories were just stories, right? These things couldn’t possibly exist. At least, that’s what I believed until the night of the big thunderstorm.

Lightning hit so fast that we were afraid to wander too far from the path we were on. Our car had broken down yet again, leaving us stranded in the hills of Black Bear Lake. The nearest neighbors were roughly ten miles away, and no offense, I wasn’t walking that far. The only other alternative was to wait for a car to pass us by. We both laughed at that idea, for the odds of that happening were rare.

Though we had lived our whole lives in the country, the sounds we heard coming from the forest were unfamiliar to us. I had seen my fair share of X-Files and Supernatural. After watching enough of these shows, combined with my active imagination, I was in full crazy mode. I had been told by my family that I shouldn’t blame the shows for the things my imagination comes up with. I was crazy enough on my own.

Family, gotta love them!

The legends passed on down to us had devastating endings. Each grew more tragic as they were retold. I lost count as to how many people had disappeared throughout the years, natives and visitors alike. The visitors we paid little mind to, but the natives, that was different.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a woman’s scream. It sounded