A message for my Facebook MysteryNuts

2010-08-29T18:53:00.000-07:00

I hope all my Facebook MysteryNut friends will contribute to my blog and share their love of mysteries by telling about your favorite mystery true or contrived. :)

A sample of one of my stories ...

2009-05-16T13:48:00.000-07:00

PARANOIA by C.B. Swartz

As I am unpacking my suitcase in my room at the Seashell Bed and Breakfast in Seashell Bay, Florida, I hear a knock at the door. I can't imagine who it would be. No one knows I'm here, but my roommate Lisa and I swore her to secrecy. As I put my suitcase back on the floor I notice I haven't changed my name and address on the tags. I need to change it since I'm no longer Mrs. Jack Lyle and I'm very happy to be Katie Miller again. The divorce was a good thing. Jack and I were heading for disaster, so his affair with his business partner Sylvia Barstow was the last straw.

Opening the door a crack, I see that it's Mr. Clark in his signature bright yellow fishing jacket. The Clarks, a sweet retired couple, bought this place and transformed it into this beautiful inn several years ago.

"Hello, Mr. Clark, it's great to see you again."

Hi Miss Katie; I don't mean to be a bother, but Annie (Mrs. Clark) asked me to bring you this basket of fruit that was just delivered."

"No bother at all; it's sweet of you to bring it up. I must say that you and Mrs. Clark have done an amazing job on the bed and breakfast. It is so charming."

"Thanks for the kind words. Be sure to tell all your friends about it."

"I certainly will. My roommate, Lisa Bernsen stayed here last summer for a couple of weeks and she loved it."

"Yes, I remember Miss Bernsen. Nice girl, but a little on the chatty side."

"Yes, I suppose she can be ."

OK, then, I'll let you get back to unpacking. I know you're anxious to get your toes in the sand and don't you worry you're perfectly safe here." He turned and closed the door behind him leaving me with an uneasy feeling.

I really needed this getaway. City life was really beginning to get to me. Since I was attacked just outside my apartment building in Atlanta, I've really been spooked. I wasn't really hurt, just bumps and bruises, but they never found out who did it or why. I think if the mugger hadn't been interrupted by a Good Samaritan, who seemed to come out of nowhere; the injuries would have been much worse. The only thing I could remember about his appearance was that he was very tall. He was wearing a grey hoodie, blue jeans, sneakers and some sort of Halloween mask that looked eerily like Richard Nixon. Since that night I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm being followed. All those hang up phone calls we've been getting just add to the anxiety. Why do people call and just hang up? They could at least say wrong number. Lisa says it's probably my Ex trying to unnerve me. I have to admit it is the kind of intimidation tactic he would enjoy using. But the divorce is over now, why are the phone calls continuing

Looking out the window I can see its just beginning to get dark outside; so I think, I still have time for a short walk up the beach. Maybe I'll even go to the coffee shop on the wharf and have a cappuccino. This being the off season there shouldn't be many tourists around. I put on a sweater against the chill evening air, step out onto the veranda, making sure to lock the door behind me. Even here in this quaint little seaside town I can't let my guard down.

The screeching of seagulls and lapping of water over encrusted rocks are evident, as my feet pat a brisk pace on the cool wet sand along the waters edge. The water temperature in the Atlantic is still in the mid sixties in February in northern Florida. In the distance, the clang of the bell on a buoy reverberating through the darkness, along with the chill in the air, adds to the eeriness. I hadn't noticed anyone else on the beach when I started my walk, but now I feel a presence not far behind me. I don't want to obviously turn my head and look back, but I know now that I can hear the faint footfalls. Could someone have followed me here from Atlanta?

Pungent salt, from the moisture in the air, jabs at my lips like tiny daggers, while the quickening footsteps behind me narrow the distance between us. A brisk wind brings with it evidence of the now absent anglers who populated the wharf farther down the beach. My mind jumps back to the night of the attack. Accelerating my pace in an effort to elude my pursuer, I suddenly twist my ankle and I go tumbling face down on the wet sand, my tender legs tangled in a thick rough rope. I right myself while spitting noxious sand mixed with coppery tasting blood as it flows from my injured nose into my mouth.

I quickly assess my surroundings and I notice an abandoned dinghy tied to the end of the rope. I begin to pull, trying to get the boat into the water before being overtaken. I know I can't outrun my pursuer on my injured ankle, but if I get the boat into the water I can row to safety. Blisters form and my hands begin to bleed, and still I'm barely moving the dinghy toward the waters edge. The labored breathing of the predator draws horrifyingly close as panic becomes a vile lump in my throat. All of a sudden, the old boat lurches and I fall back gulping a mouthful of the cold, brackish seawater. Direfully, I jump into the dinghy, wipe the seawater from my burning eyes with the back of my wet hand and grab the oars. As I begin to row feverishly in the chill night air, I chance a look back at the dark shoreline.

With only the moon for illumination in the dusk and with great effort, I make out the faint form of Mr. Clark, still wearing the bright yellow jacket, waving a fishing rig and shouting what sounds like, "Miss Miller, where are you going with my dinghy?"

Welcome to MysteryNut Blog ¡

2008-07-28T00:40:00.000-07:00

You will come to know after having been here for awhile that everything is a mystery to me. That’s not to say that I’m always in the dark, but I am usually searching for enlightenment.

Come on all you mystery bloggers start shining!