ANOTHER WHARF AT PORT TOWNSEND BAY

By Cal McCune

The book is about a gravedigger in Port Townsend, Washington, who wishes to try to write a novel. In the book he slowly does write out a novel about an evil man who comes to Port Townsend who attempts to capture a pod of killer whales. When the grave digger completes the novel he does not like it and destroys it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798369417096

Cal McCune

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ANOTHER

WHARF AT PORT

TOWNSEND BAY

CAL MCCUNE

Copyright © 2024 by Cal McCune.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/22/2024

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

858406

CONTENTS

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

W HY DO YOU want to write a novel? You have no skills. You flunked out of junior high school. All you do is dig at the Port Townsend Valley Cemetery. You are so inadequate you do not even use machinery to dig the grave sites, you shovel.

She is right, he thought to himself, I really am the dim switch of the family. But I would like to write a story, even a failure of a novel. He sat at one end of the couch and she at the other, watching her favorite horror movie on TV. She had seen the film many times yet each time she became terrified. Towards the end of the film a spider crawled across the forehead of the main character and then advanced over an eyeball and then cut its way into the interior of the eye. Winston noticed his wife unbuttoning her blouse and reaching inside. She pulled a breast up to where she sucked on the nipple. As the spider floated inside the eyeball she screamed and involuntarily bit down on her nipple, causing it to bleed. Winston glanced over from time to time and observed his wife entranced by the movie, blood dripping down from her chin onto a fluffy, white blouse.

That night, after they went to their separate bedrooms, Winston stared up at the ceiling and, as he had done many times before, he wondered, if he wrote a novel, what would it be about? Maybe as the writing went the story could unfold. Maybe he could just start and his subconscious would feed the conscious and some sort of novel could be told.

All I need is a pencil and a piece of paper and the patience to sit down, He left his bed and moved to a small desk from which he took out a sheet of paper and a pencil. Then he sat there, wondering what to write. That night and the next he wrote nothing. The third day he had to dig six graves, one for a grade school classmate, one for a lady he had dated in high school, another for a former mayor of Port Townsend, and the remaining three holes for people he did not know. As he worked he thought about what to write. Could I write this, that, or something else? he pestered himself.

The third night he wrote:

"Dear Jennifer,

Thank you for your letter. How many letters have we written? Sister to brother. Brother to sister. So many years of correspondence. We both miss our parents and I suppose grieving will change to a simple appreciation of being, years back, with them. I do not know. I do know you hate your husband and that you hope to kill him. Please, Jennifer, stop thinking that way. Consider the Chinese proverb: If you are out to kill your enemy, dig two graves. Your husband is physically stronger than you and he packs a revolver. He would kill you if he knew your mind. My own health is OK and my marriage is fine. Harriet will be released from prison in about a month and I will be happy to see her. The long trips to see Harriet at Purdy were expensive and time consuming. Her gums are swollen and her teeth are falling out, so once she is released I will take her to the free dental clinic.

Please take care, Your loving brother, Zack."

Winston stared at what he had written and a smile slowly formed ---for out of nowhere --- out of nothing ---he had created a scene between two siblings. He took the paper and hid it under his mattress.

A few nights later he wrote:

"Dear Zack,

Without a doubt my husband would kill me if he saw my letters to you. I do not keep copies. When I write to you I do not leave the letter just lying around. I write and then place the letter in an envelope and then seal the envelope. Yes, I do hope to kill my husband, Donald. You told me not to marry Donald. You warned me that as his 6th wife I could expect nothing. I should have asked his prior five. He intrigued me. Donald served as President of Cryptocurrency USA and that is no small thing. He had math skills and success investing. But, Zack, my husband, Donald, still breathes, bad as his breath may be. He, instead of being remains, remains. I wish I had a loving relationship as you do with Harriett. Take care, Love, Jennifer."

"Dear Jennifer,

Thank you for your letter. Harriett is home. She is a bit bruised up and scratched as she got into several fights during her final day in prison. I took her to the dental clinic and most of her teeth were extracted. She insisted on keeping the extracted teeth that contained gold fillings. For a while I am doing most of the cooking so the meals are simple, like sweet potatoes, oatmeal, and cow tendons, all soft food. At night we go out for soft ice cream. We mostly sit and stare at whatever is on the TV. How are you doing?

Love, Zack."

"Dear Zack,

Two week ago we went to bed with the lights on and when Donald was asleep on his back I happened to glance at him. His mouth was open and there appeared to be a red, silk thread caught between his front teeth. I rolled over and looked closely and saw it was a human hair. I pretended to have to go to the bathroom and went and got a pair of tweezers. When I thought he was fully asleep I moved up next to him and placed the tweezers toward his face. Slowly I moved the tweezers toward his lips and then inside his mouth and just as I pressed the tweezers over the hair and pulled, one of Donald’s eyes opened and looked right at me. Then the other eye opened. I was scared out of my tree. In a mellifluous voice I said Hi. You are awake. How are you? What?, he replied. He rolled over and went back to sleep. I kept pressure on the tweezers and in a few minutes I left the bed and went to my desk and placed the tweezers over a sheet of white paper and taped down the end of the hair. The next day