Hoarder (Edits)

Mrs. Helms was some kind of hoarder, stacks of newspapers and magazines lined the halls, jars of batteries and soda tabs filled every table top, containers of cleaning solvents and nail polish remover, balls of yarn, too many for a cat, in every nook and cranny.

“Poor Salem. He was the best friend I ever had. He was the best cat there ever was,” Mrs. Helms muttered as she clicked and clanged in the garage mixing together solvents and chemicals into a vile concoction.

“Don’t worry, Salem, I got the rotten vermin who poisoned you. I had to use some of my magic to catch him before he could run away, but I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. And then I’ll get the others who put him up to it,” she continued as she stirred the fowl mixture. Once her concoction was ready, Mrs. Helms expertly navigated the crags of trinkets and knick-knacks that had long replaced the walls of her home to the basement ventilation. She cleared off a spot next to the vent hole, laid the pot of poisonous liquid next to the ventilation lighting the vile concoction on fire. She then placed a fan next to the flambé so that the noxious fumes would make it down to the murderous Joseph, whom she had chained in the basement.

Deep in the treacherous cavern filled with stalagmites of trade magazines and overdue library books that Mrs. Helms hoarded, Joseph screamed, kicked, and twisted. Feeding Mrs. Helms’s black cat, Salem, a saucer of rat poison wasn’t so funny anymore.

“How had he not been quick enough to escape the old woman who needed cane?” Joseph mused his elderly neighbor’s sudden fleetness, failing to notice the slightly sour odor creeping into the basement. He continued to tug at the large rings that bound him to the cold, damp wall of the basement until he lost consciousness.

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Just editing this story that I’ve been writing in bits and pieces trying to put it all together. I didn’t include the rescue mission, because it just didn’t flow with the first part when I put it all together. Almost like I need to add a transition scene in between the two. I did take part from the rescue mission scene describing Mrs. Helms’s hoarding and add it to the beginning as an intro.
 
https://zennjennc.wordpress.com/2013/01/12/basement-escape/
https://zennjennc.wordpress.com/2012/11/16/entering-the-hoarders-lair/
https://zennjennc.wordpress.com/2012/09/30/story-a-day-sept-30-horders-revenge/
https://zennjennc.wordpress.com/2012/09/07/horder/
 

 

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Basement Escape

As Alex slipped further into Mrs. Helms’s lair, the shelves were overflowing, forcing him to crawl on all fours. A noisome haze settled between the stacks of magazines and books. Alex altered his course away from the source and approached the basement door with caution. He quietly opened the door and rolled down the basement stairs. The haze was constant and choking in the basement. On the far wall, Alex spotted a small window. He spotted a heavy can. Fixing his sights on the window. He threw, loudly shattering the window.

“I hope the old witch, Mrs. Helms, doesn’t hear that,” he muttered as the fumes began escaping to the yard. A moan brought his attention back to the mission at hand. Joseph was chained to the wall barley conscience. Alex pulled at the changes up was able able to release his friend. He found another heavy can and pounded the ring anchors out the wall.

“Man she is definitely going to hear that. Wake up, Joseph, I can’t get you through that window on my own.” Alex shook his friend. Joseph regained some consciousness, but not his wits.

“Wha…”

“Window. Escape. Now.” Alex commanded as he gave his friend a boost and hoisted himself out the window as Mrs. Helms came down the stairs shouting ancient curses at them.

The boys ran across the yard and hopped the fence only to turn around when they were safely down the block to see the house up in flames.

Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #298

Entering the Hoarder’s Lair

Friday Fictioneers: Every Friday authors from around the world gather here to share their 100-words based on the photo prompt and offer constructive crit and encouragement to each other. This creates a wonderful opportunity for free reading of very fresh fiction! Readers are encouraged to comment as well. Read my Entry Below:

Copyright-Sean Fallon

 

 

Mrs. Helms was some kind of hoarder, stacks of newspapers and magazines lined the halls, jars of batteries and soda tabs filled every tabletop, containers of cleaning solvents and nail polish remover, balls of yarn, too many for a cat.  Just what was she saving this all for anyway? Alex just hoped he could get in, find his friend Joseph, and they could both get out alive. Urban legends around town said this old woman was a witch. Alex wished his sister would have told him that before him and his friends accidentally tortured the old witch’s cat to death.

Story A Day Sept 30: Hoarder’s Revenge

“Poor Salem. That cat was the best friend I ever had. He was the best cat there ever was.” Mrs. Helms mused as she mixed together clicked and clanged in the garage mixing together solvents and chemicals into a vile connection.

“Don’t worry, Salem, I got the rotten vermin who poisoned you. I had to use some of my magic to catch him before he could run away, but I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. And then I’ll get the others who put him up to it.” she continued as she stirred the fowl mixture.

Once her concoction was ready, Mrs. Helps expertly navigated the crags of trinkets and nick-knacks that replaced the walls of her home to wear the ventilation to the basement lay. She cleared off a spot next to the vent hole, laide the pot of poisonous liquid next to it, and lit it on fire. She then placed a fan next to the flambé so that the noxious fumes would make it down to the murderous Joseph, whom she had chained in the basement.

Story A Day Sept 7: Hoarder

The basement was treacherous cavern filled with stalagmites of trade magazines and overdue library books that Mrs. Helms hoarded. Joseph screamed, kicked, and twisted against the stacks. He tugged and the large rings that bound him to the cold, damp wall of the basement. Feeding Mrs. Helms’s black cat, Salem, a saucer of rat poison wasn’t funny anymore.

“How had he not been quick enough to escape the old woman who needed cane?”

As Joseph mused his neighbor’s sudden fleetness, he failed to notice the slightly sour odor creeping into the basement.