Gnome Dinner Song-By Susan Thomas

We are going to eat you

Please don't worry

It won't hurt...much

We're going to roast you

so you're tender and juicy

So we can eat you

We're going to use 

your bones as toothpicks

We are going to eat you

do us a favor

please sit still

and don't scream

We are going to eat you

and screaming 

won't stop us

It may be painful

but please don't cry

Tears ruin the flavor

We are going to eat you

So sit still

and don't put up a fight

because we are going to eat you

You'll be yummy in our tummy

I look forward to 

digesting you

because we are going to eat you

(Gnomes freak me out and this song popped into my head.)

Broken Walls-By Susan Thomas

I sat there tied to a metal chair with leather straps. The thickness of the straps left little hope of wiggling free. I was in a huge, run down, barren room that appeared to be a warehouse of some sort. A warehouse that had long ago been abandoned. Five feet directly across from me was my sister Abby also strapped to a chair.
We found ourselves here after being chloroformed by some weird guy who blocked our path with a van on our way home. Now here we were. My sister was panicked like any other normal rational person. The crazy weird guy was just pacing back and forth while mumbling to himself.
I on the other hand hadn't really bothered to really look at my attacker or to pay to close attention to my sister I was to concerned with myself. I had harbored a dark secret for years. I had always wanted to kill someone. The urge had always been there. Just beneath the surface. When I was a teen I took that dark part of myself and walled it up inside of me.
In the situation I was in every fiber of my being was screaming that it was kill or be killed. I was happy to be here. I was happy that someone was giving me an excuse to finally give in to this urge I'd been fighting for so many years.

I could hear the walls inside me begin to crumble as the deranged man came towards me. My ears were filled with the sounds of a crumbling brick wall and my mind was swarming with wonderfully bloody ways to kill the man that stood before me. As I became lost in it I smiled.
"Why are you smiling! Have you heard a word," shouted the man as his demanding voice forced me to listen.
"Sorry. Thinking of a happy place," I said quietly.
He smirked and slapped me across the face. I felt a rage begin to build inside of me.
"I was saying I'm willing to let one of you go. All you have to do is kill your sister. Your sister here has already said no. While you were in your happy place. Do this and prove to me you deserve to live. Show me how much you want to live," he said inches from my face.
I said nothing and just stared at him blankly. I couldn't move. The crashing of the walls inside was overpowering and had me paralyzed. I was in awe of it and terrified of the thing I had locked up inside.
"I guess that's a yes. So Abby I guess you love your sister more than she loves you."
I felt him undoing my leather straps and heard my sister burst into tears. I felt him place a knife in my hand. I gripped it and fell to the floor and began to cough.
I couldn't stop coughing. Soon chunks of black goo began to spew from my mouth. Then chunks of brick came out with the the black goo. I felt myself disappearing a little at a time.  Till I found myself in a dark place. I was in a barren metal cell with a window. Through the window I saw myself. The self I locked up years ago. The part of me I had been trying to keep locked up was free.
"Oh it feels good to let go. Being a goody two shoes is not my style. Time for fun," I said. Then I watched as I turned at lightening speed and slit the man's throat. He grabbed his throat in shock and fell to the floor and I watched him bleed to death.
Then I walked over to my sister. She was overjoyed with tears in her eyes.
"I knew you wouldn't kill me. I knew you loved me," she cried.
"Of course I love you," I said in a eerie voice,"but I'm not going to kill you. He killed you. I simply avenged your death dear sister."
I then was forced to watch as my dark self went to work on my defenseless sister. Soon she was so carved and deformed she barely resembled a human. She died two hours into the torture. My dark self strung her up from the rafters for everyone to see. Then stabbed herself three times in the stomach and ran.
We were found half dead by a stranger and portrayed as a hero to all the papers. I have now reversed roles with my dark half. Somehow I let her win and take control. Now I'm in a stronger cell and I can only hope that one day I'll have an opportunity to seize control once more. Hopefully someone stops me before to many people die.

Nothing of Love-By Elsie Heberling Chapter One Final Part

As she walked away, he could not believe what he had heard. Yet she had expressed no pleasure over the prospect of a new home. He sat stunned for several minutes, then told himself, "All right, I'll build it to suit my taste, and you can find fault afterwards."
Phillip was hurt and bewildered with her failure to offer any encouragement, or express pleasure over the prospect of a new home. The thing that would have made the average woman wildly happy, left his wife uninterested. But he would begin the work at once.
Through the next several months it was a source of pleasure and pride to Phil, and of excitement and interest to his growing family. As last, after five months of labor, the beautiful new house was completed and ready to be occupied. Secretly, Maggie was proud of the house, but never once gave Phillip a word of praise or appreciation.
The day of moving into the new home was one of great excitement for the DuFrow children, and pride for Philip. Maggie was noncommittal, but secretly pleased, busy with getting things in order. When a neighbor stopped to offer congratulations, she replied, "Oh, he didn't build this for his family, he just wanted to impress the neighbors."
Philip remained silent, but when alone with her, demanded "What satisfaction do you get from always trying to belittle me before other people?" Her only reply was her mocking laugh as she turned away. This laugh he had heard before more frequently of late, and it never failed to hurt him like the thrust of a sharp knife. Now it left him feeling numb.
Later in the day, while arranging furniture on the second floor, Maggie entered the largest and brightest room, saying gaily, "At last I can have a room all my own, and you Phil, can use the one at the end of the hall."
With a strange expression on his face, he said "You don't mean that, Maggie."
"Of course I mean it, so you may as well get used to the idea."
He turned away with bitter thoughts, "Everything I do to contribute to her happiness serves only to drive us further apart. Is there nothing at all that will please her?"
Through all these years, Philip DuFrow had kept up his church activities, being respected and looked up to by everyone. Maggie and her children were regular attendants, and she entered into the work of the church with increasing interest. Being entirely without spiritual foundations or values, she soon developed into a religious fanatic.
The truth was , that Maggie was jealous of her husband's popularity, and decided to gain some for herself. Her family not having the background or standing in the town that the DuFrow's had, gave her a feeling of inferiority, and she meant to overcome that at all costs, even to the point of destroying her own husband.
Needless to say, all this was unnecessary. She had been graciously accepted as Philip's wife by the townspeople  She could have been happy with this marriage, standing by her husband's side with pride and helpfulness, being sensitive to his need to improve himself in the economic world, and together caring for their family, as other women.
But Maggie was not like other women. There was a driving need to live her own life, in her own way, and to give expression to her religion as she understood it. She would begin by helping other people. That she would be neglecting her children and home by this procedure, seemed not to have occurred to her, or if it did, was not allowed to deter her decision. She would nurse sick people.
Now let it be said that Maggie was twenty-one years of age when she married, and up to that time, she had no inclination to be a nurse-or anything else in particular. She had lived at home, helping her mother, seemingly content in that role. Now, when there was a sickness in the neighborhood, the families were often surprised  when Maggie would appear, offering her services. Sometimes this help was welcomed, other times not, but those who were the recipients of her kindness, had nothing but praise for her work, which proved her capability.
But one thing she that often irritated many people was, when entering a a home, she would call all the members of the family present to kneel while she would pray a long, fervent prayer. Many people thought, and rightly so, that this was unnecessary. There were good Christian people in this town who believe in prayer, but to be required to leave their work at Maggie's call was not always appreciated.
One evening when Phillip came home from his work, he found the children alone, with no sign of dinner being prepared, and little Eddie crying, and Paul trying to comfort him.
"Where is your mother," he asked
"I don't know," the boy answered.
Ruth said, "She has been gone all afternoon and I'm hungry."
"You children stay here, and I'll see if I can find her. Perhaps she is at her mothers."
Phillip was sure she was not at the Kenwick home, and he was growing very angry, to know she was placing the importance of others ahead of her own children, who at this moment were in need of her.
Out on the street he met Jim Barton, who stopped to chat. He was in no mood for chatting, but stopped momentarily to speak to his friend. He had scarcely bid Jim the time of day when he saw Maggie walking toward them. Philip didn't remember was said next until Maggie stood before them.
Without waiting for her to speak, he asked "Where have you been Maggie? Don't you know the children are alone and hungry?" With an unconcerned manner, she replied, "Oh, I guess they'll not starve."
Her indifference drove Philip's anger to an uncontrollable point, and for the first time in their lives together, he raised his hand against her. His open palm came in sharp contact with her face, and Maggie was no more surprised than he was. His act of violence was completely involuntarily  but his wife was quick to take advantage of the situation, as she turned to Jim, who had been a witness to this unpleasant scene.
Actually, there was a small note of triumph in her voice as she cried, "Now you see how he treats me! I am the mother of his children, and he treats me-you saw, didn't you?" The big man looked frankly into her face. "Yes, I saw it, and by heaven, if you were my wife, I'd beat the devil out of you." He turned away in disgust, and Maggie learned that her trick had failed to gain her any sympathy.
When she entered  her home a moment later, she found her husband pouring a glass of milk for little Eddie. She spoke at once.
"I hope you are proud of what you did to me out on the street."
"No, Maggie, I'm not. I'm very much ashamed, and I'm sorry."
"You should be, and what will the children think when they hear of it?"
"He looked at her in astonishment. "They needn't know, they didn't see it happen, and I know Jim won't tell them."
"But I will, I want them to the kink of father they have." she laughed her strange mocking laugh. "You wait and see."
Philip left without continuing the discussion, and went to his room. He stretched out on his bed with a sickness in his stomach. What had happened to Maggie? Why had she changed so drastically- or had she changed? Was it possible for a woman to change from a sweet considerate person into what she had become-sly, cruel, and vindictive? He had loved her, and still did, he had given her everything possible for one is his position, which was equal to any of the resident of their town, and better than most. He had always been kind, it was his nature to be so.
Of course, there were four children, but many families had more, There were four in his own family and he had never heard his mother complain. But Maggie wanted to marry. What did she expect? She looked on her children as punishment, and she was taking her revenge on him. That truth now dawned on him in all its ugliness. But what could he do, he loved his children, and their neglect was something he found hard to endure. His religious teaching made it impossible to face the prospects of separation, and besides, he wanted to keep his family and home intact. To do otherwise was sheer torture just to think of.
In the Barton home, Jim was telling his wife Bess, of the incident he had witnessed so unwillingly, between Phil and Maggie. Bess Barton was, womanlike, inclined to side with Maggie.
"Now really, Jim, don't you think you are being a little harsh on Maggie?"
"No, Bess, I don't. I tell you, the woman has a cruel streak in her. She will never convince  me that Phil beats her, I know him too well for that."
"But a cruel person would never have the care and kindness to give to others, that she does."
He patted his pretty wife on her arm, as he said, "Don't be fooled by that, sweetie, that is Maggie's act."
"I think you are growing cynical."
Good natured Jim Barton smiled at his wife. "Keep your bright eyes open wide, honey-bun."
"Well, maybe you are right."
"I know I'm right. Now how soon are you going to feed your starving husband?"
"Just as soon as I can get it on the table."

Nothing of Love-By Elsie Heberling Part Four

"But Maggie, I think that will be wonderful, little Paul will have a playmate."
"You don't know anything about it Susan, you don't know all the pain and work that goes with having a baby, and it's all Phillips' fault."
Susan was sure she didn't know all the things Maggie was complaining about, but she knew she wanted to hear no more of it. She left the house and the young mother to her weeping. Susan's understanding of these things was rather vague and fora a reason she was not sure of, a feeling of great sympathy swept over her for her brother. The DuFrow family was a closely knit one, and Philip was especially loved by Susan. For that reason, she decided to say nothing concerning Maggie's troubles. After all, she was a married woman, and many of them had babies, and didn't act like Maggie was now. And Susan, being young, soon forgot the situation in her brothers' home.
However, in due time, a baby girl was born to Philip and Maggie DuFrow. A beautiful child, they named her Ruth. When little Ruth, dark-eyed and lovely, was two years of age, another baby girl was born to them. This one was named Jennifer, and blond like her mother.
Through all this, Phillip treated his wife with the tenderest consideration, but at times grew impatient with her continual complaining and tears. He wanted to find a maid to relieve her of household work, but she would have none of it. If she needed help, her mother would come anytime.
In two more years their fourth child was born. A healthy little boy. This one was named Edward, the name of his grandfather DuFrow. Phil did not question Maggie as to her needs this time, but found and brought home a housekeeper.
In her secret heart, Maggie was pleased, but gave no signs of appreciation-only a protest that she needed no one. In less than a month she discharged the woman after a quarrel with her. Philip was angry over this, and swore an oath to himself that there would be no more children, feeling a great sympathy for his wife.
Maggie loved her children after her own fashion, but resented the time it required to care for them. She preferred  activities  outside her home, and being with other people, which often led to conflict between them.
Philip was patient. He loved his wife and babies, therefore their differences were soon passed  over, because  he hated bickerings and quarrels, especially when the children were present. For this reason, often he gave way to her, leading Maggie to believe her husband was weak. Maggie liked big brawling men like her father.
One day when Philip had been pondering these matters, it dawned on him that his wife's nature had changed entirely. Through the following days he became more keenly conscious of her domineering and belligerent nature. And this he avoided as much as possible , often feeling shame for her in her disregard for the children's feelings. The sad part of it was that she really enjoyed this situation.
Phillip had prospered over these years, in a moderate way, being made manager of the large lumber company for which he worked. Now he decided to build the new home he had been dreaming of for a long while. He would build it for his wife. Perhaps it would change her whole attitude and make her happy once more. He could scarcely wait  to put his dream into reality. The next day he went into the small bank and talked  his plans over with Mr. Crowley, a owner of the bank.
"Of course, Phil, we'll help you out, nothing safer than real estate, and I'm a great believer in young people owning their own homes as soon as possible. It's a great stabilizer, makes for a sounder marriage."
""Thank you, Mr. Crowley, I appreciate this more than I can say."
"Don't try. I'm glad to be able to help."
When Phillip had left the bank, Mr. Crowley said to himself , "Spunky fellow, he could have gotten that from his father if he had asked. DuFrow is a safe risk."
Philip was enthused over his plans and hurried home to talk them over with Maggie, who listened attentively but made no comment.
"And now Maggie, I want your ideas as to the type of home you need and want. A woman knows how a house should be built better than a man."
He was astonished when she left her chair and without looking at him and said, "It's your house, build it the way you want it."

Nothing of Love By Elsie Heberling Chapter One Part 3

Chapter One-Part Three

Phillip DuFrow was nineteen years old, above average in height, slender of build, with very dark brown hair that on first glance looked black. His dark eyes were serious when serious matters were concerned, but quickly could dissolve into merriment when a humorous situation arose. His family consisted of his parents, Edward and Nelda DuFrow, a younger brother, Teddy, and two sisters, Susan the older and Betsy, the youngest of the group.

The small town of Bellfield consisted of a population of perhaps, a thousand. The four  families who first arrived, gave it the name it still retained, because from the surrounding hills one could hear cattle bells from the cows and sheep that grazed all day long in the warm sunshine.

DuFrows were of the original four families who built their homes here, but gradually others came, finding it an ideal  place for rural living. The people came now from different nationalities, attracted  by the new industrial town that was springing up ten miles to the northwest of Bellfield. 

The DuFrows were a deeply religious family, living their faith every day, by their concepts, illustrating their Christian character. They came to America with the Huguenots from which the present family were descended, being proud of their heritage as as this, their native country. 

On Nelda DuFrow side were an aristocratic and wealthy heritage of England and Scotland, whose first members came as British officers to rule certain colonies of the Americas, thus fighting in the Revolution. When England bowed her royal head to the Yankee Doodlers, two of the British officers preferred remaining with their conquerors.

This, briefly, was the heritage of Phillip DuFrow, handsome, proud, and independent.

As is all small communities in the middle twentieth century, the social life was centered in the church, with young peoples meetings, which consisted for the most part, of singing, games, an occasional prayer, and sometimes heated arguments. There would be picnics in summer and ice cream socials.

Maggie Kenwick never joined the church, nor had she ever been a member of any church, as her family were not church-going people. But always she attended church service and social gatherings, since coming to Bellfield. Every opportunity found Maggie and Phillip DuFrow together, falling more deeply in love with each meeting.

Maggie's parents were pure Irish, having come to America twenty years previously. Maggie and brother Kerry had attended public school, and in all activities were as interested as other young people in the rapidly growing town.

Their mother was a small, patient and kind woman, being occupied much of the time with trying to cope with her husbands' temper. Tall, sturdy and re-haired, belligerent Thomas Kenwick would rather fight than make a friend. Somewhere in their Irish back round  they were of Catholic extraction, but had never belonged to that persuasion since coming to America, nor did they ever attend church.

Phillips' parents found this situation a matter of no little concern, but welcomed shy, sweet Maggie as a possible member of their family. Phillip went to work with a new vigor to save money to marry on, as his parents insisted he must do, at the building supply company where he was employed.

At the end of the year, they were married quietly by the Rev. Richardson, and went directly to housekeeping in a small cottage they were fortunate enough to find for rent. Thus their marriage was happily begun, and in the eleventh month their son was born, bringing to a greater degree, their personal happiness. The grandparents DuFrow were overjoyed with a grandson, as were the other members of the young fathers' family.

Over the following year, Maggie was finding the task of caring for her infant son a tiring and never-ending occupation. When he was fourteen months old, and the young mother again found herself pregnant, she had began to rebel. Somehow, which was hard to account for, her shy sweet nature gradually changed to one of self-pity and rebellion.

It was in this state of mind that Susan DuFrow, aged 16, found Maggie, when she went to the home of her brother one day, and found her sister-in-law in tears. Susan was very much concerned. "What is wrong, Maggie, are you sick?"

Maggie lifted flooding eyes to the young sister as she replied, "Yes, I'm sick. Phillip promised to care for and protect me, and now I'm going to have another baby!"

Susan was somewhat bewildered by this demonstration, as Maggie emphasized her displeasure by tramping the floor one  side of the room to the other, and back again.

Nothing of Love Continued-By Elsie Heberling

Chapter One-Part Two

Phillip was a little awed and with the visitor, but answered, "Thank you, sir, won't you sit down?" Bishop Bosworth sat down in the pew, speaking at once.

"I'll come right to the point, Phillip, and save time for both of us. To start with, I have been hearing  of you for a long time through your minister, and was invited here today to hear for myself, and as I said I am deeply impressed with what I have heard." He spoke rapidly without waiting for a response from Phillip.

"Half the young men who have been ordained have not interpreted the gospel as well as you have done today."

Phillip was embarrassed, but managed to say "Thank you, sir, but I think you are overrating me."

"Not at all, my boy, and now I would like your consent to attend theology school for one year, and I will ordain you to a full fledged minister." This was a new approach to Philip, and a small feeling of resentment rose in him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I must decline that offer. I think I made that clear to Reverend Richardson some time ago."

"You would not take time to consider it?"

"No, sir."

"I'm sorry, Phillip, because I am sincere when I tell you, the world will be losing something very important if you refuse."

"Then I am sorry, sir, to inflict on the world such a great loss." Phillip was amused and this was accompanied by a laugh, but he sobered instantly, and continued to speak more earnestly. "But I prefer not to consider it. If it will help, I promise to keep up my work here as usual, but I am deeply grateful, and humbled with your estimate of me, and I thank you."

Bishop Bosworth slowly got to his feet, speaking very quietly. "I'm greatly disappointed with your decision, but if you should ever change your mind..." He left the sentence unfinished as he held out his hand to the young man. 

Nothing more was spoken between them and the bishop departed the church, leaving Philip standing alone, with his thoughts on a blue-eyed, brown-haired girl. He smiled to himself, wondering, was she visiting here, or had her family moved into the town as permanent residents? He hoped it was the latter. He wanted to see her again.

Entering his home a short time later, he found his mother busy preparing the special noonday dinner they always enjoyed on Sunday. He spoke at once to her.

"Did you notice the strange man in church this morning?"

This was a small town church, therefore everyone knew everyone else, and a stranger was quickly observed. His mothers' hands were busy as she replied, "No outsider except Bishop Bosworth, who is not exactly a stranger."

"Oh, you knew he was there?"

"Yes, Philip, I knew two days ago he would be here."

"And you never told me."

Nelda DuFrow turned then, and looked at her son. 

"No, because I was asked not to do so. Rev. Richardson thought it best that you didn't know, in order not to embarrass you."

"How do you think I felt when he introduced himself to me?"

"You talked to him then."

"Yes, and I don't mind telling you, I didn't appreciate the arrangement. And I'll tell you once again, mother, I am not going to enter the ministry."

Phillip DuFrow felt that to be his final word on the subject, and turned to leave, then turned back to question.

"Do you know of any new families who have moved to town recently?"

Nelda DuFrow thought a moment, "I believe Edith Graham told me a family moved into the vacant Gross home down the street--an Irish family, I've forgotten the name."

"Would it be Kenwick?"

"It could be, I've forgotten."

Phillip turned to leave again, and his mother said "Don't go away, your dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Nothing of Love-By Elsie M. Heberling

Chapter One-Part One

The young girls' eyes never wavered from the young man standing behind the pulpit. She really was not conscious of what he was saying. It was his handsome, earnest face that attracted and held her interest. It was a young face, and his voice throbbed with the intensity of his words, spoken with the idealism of, as yet, his limited contact with the harsh outside world. 

Phillip DuFrow was not an ordained minister of the gospel, being a lay speaker, as such a one is designated in some churches.

He had been a member of this congregation since his early childhood, being of a religious nature, inherited and taught by his parents. The Reverend Richardson was deeply impressed with Phillip since he first knew him, and had urged him the parents to allow him to study for the ministry. But the young man himself had declined, very firmly, this honor. The good man was disappointed, but did not entirely give up.

A year before, he had said to Phillip, "You see, my boy, I know good material when I see it, so I am going to ask you to help me. On next Sunday, I must be away, and I am asking you to take over for me."

"Oh, no, sir! Not me!"

"Yes, Phillip, as a very special favor to me."

"But sir, I couldn't do it!"

"Of course you can. I have watched you closely, teaching your class of young me, and if I did not know you were capable, I wouldn't have asked you."

It was then that Phillip DuFrow had consented, doing such an a outstanding work, that he had been returned several times to fill in for the Reverend Richardson.

On this particular day, the bishop of the church had been invited to hear the young lay preacher, all unknown to Phillip. Never having met Bishop Bosworth, he did not recognize him in the congregation. The service was over now, and Phillip walked to the the open doorway to greet the parishioners as they left for home.

The long line of his friends and neighbors who cordially took his outstretched hand, was almost gone, when he found himself looking into a pair of soft blue eyes shining from a pretty face, a wealth of light brown curls drawn to the back of her head and tied with a bright blue ribbon. 

A shy smile curved her lips as he took her hand in his own, saying "I believe you are a newcomer here."

"Yes sir, my name is Maggie Kenwick."

"I'm glad you came, Maggie." He released her hand and she passed on through the open door.

The very last one in the line was a man who was unknown to Phillip, but his warm handclasp and friendly manner at once gave him a renewed confidence in himself.

"I want to offer my congratulations to you for the splendid piece of work you have done, and if you have the time, I would like to talk to you." The older man, seeing the puzzled look on the younger ones' face, quickly introduced himself. "I am Bishop Bosworth, and am impressed with what you have done today."