Category Archives: Mystery

The Talisman: Part Three by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez

Photograph by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez
From The Talisman
From The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

Continued from: https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2019/11/27/the-talisman-part-two-by-mark-alberto-yoder-nunez/

I returned to the town on the west coast from which I had started before my journeys.  I took a job in the office of an import, export business.  I oversaw the merchandise at the unloading and loading on the docks and kept track of the inventory in the warehouse.

I frequented a restaurant at the harbor.  There was a beautiful, young waitress there who waited on me.  She seemed to give me special attention, always filling my coffee cup.  She asked me if I wanted raisin bread for toast even though she said the cooks did not like her running raisin bread through the toaster.  She said the raisins got stuck in the toaster.  I said yes more to please her than myself.  I was generous to her with my tips since her attention to me was rather flattering.  Sometimes she would give me a glass of orange juice for free.  She was going to the local junior college and studying business. 

I lived in a cozy but tiny apartment in the harbor with a view of the docks and ocean from my window.  I loved to wake up in the morning, drink coffee and look out of the window.  I loved to breathe in the fresh, sea air.  My whole life was in the harbor.  

I decided to take classes at the community college after work.  I took a beginning business class and a creative writing class.  When I told the blonde waitress that I was taking classes at the city college she looked at me strangely. 

It cost a pretty penny to take these classes.  I struggled with my finances.  The students in my creative writing class appreciated my work but the teacher was overly critical.  I tried to satisfy the teacher’s criteria but I felt that he was jealous that he did not have the experiences to be able to tell the stories that I did.  At one point he said words that implied that my stories were too fantastic to be believable.  I suppressed my anger.  I had to remind myself that my goal was to just make it through the class.  To my surprise he gave me an A in the class despite his criticisms. 

I had hoped that by going to the city college I might run into the blonde waitress and actually see her someplace else besides when she was working at the restaurant.  This never happened.  It was a little depressing going to school at night in the winter when it was dark and cold.  When I awoke in the morning all I could do was drink some coffee and try to make it to work on time.  I had to grab whatever snack food I could to make it through the day.  Fortunately the harbor had its amenities.  There was a hole in the wall restaurant close to work where I loved to buy fish tacos.

I told the blonde waitress that I had finished my classes.  She seemed very interested in the things I had to talk about.  She seemed especially interested in my creative writing.  She would ask me questions about it.

After a few more months of working and trying to save money I started to pressure my bosses to let me take two weeks of vacation so I could visit my mother.  They weren’t happy.  Finally they agreed to one week.  I took it.

Soon I was on an eastbound train.  I arrived in the little, land bound town with rolling green hills.  I had spent a lot of time wandering in the woods here all alone.  When I found the house she was not there.  I was told that she had passed away.  I returned back on the train with a little package she had left me.  In it were my birth certificate, baptismal certificate, some report cards from school, honor roll certificates, my baby book and photographs.  I stared out the window of the train at the countryside passing by.  Would I ever pass this way again? 

I reported back to my job on Monday morning.  I was told I was not needed.  When I asked why I was told that my job had been given to someone new.  This was not an answer to my question but the real reason was obvious.  I had dared to stick up for my rights and ask for some vacation time.  When I had previously asked for a raise I had been told that business wasn’t so good.  I knew that this was a lie because I had overheard the owner telling his brother that their accountant had told him that their profits had never been better.  I knew this was because of me and my high level of professionalism.  My knowledge of the import, export business from my years of working the freighter ships was what made me so valuable.  

I went to the harbor restaurant.  The blonde waitress was not there.  I returned to the restaurant the next morning for breakfast.  She was not there again.  I thought this was unusual.  I asked about her.  I was told that she had graduated from school and had gone back to the inland town that she came from.

I found myself on the same familiar pier again looking at the ships and gazing out to sea.  I found myself once again wandering aimlessly along the narrow lanes of the waterfront.  I came to a narrow lane and looked along it to my right.  There was the curio shop, three shops down, on the left side of the lane!  I wasn’t in a mood to question.  My mind had been sullen.  I walked toward the door of the curio shop.  Inside I saw the oriental carpets, tapestries, silk, carved wooden figurines and beads.  These were things I now knew too well from my travels in the Orient. 

The elegant, Oriental lady was there again standing behind the counter.  Once again I looked at her with her perfect oval face and curious smile with her lips sensuously turned up slightly at the corners of her mouth.  I gazed deeply into her dark eyes.  She did the same with me in response.  I don’t know why but I reached into my inner coat pocket and pulled out the talisman.  I asked her if I could sell it back.  She nodded and said she could only give me half of the original price that I had paid.  I said, “Okay”.  She took the silver talisman from my hands.  As she put the bills and coins into my hand she held the soft skin of her hand against mine for a moment while looking into my eyes.  Then she drew her hand back and said, “It always comes back”.  She smiled and bowed her head a little.  All I could think of to say was, “Thank you”.  She nodded twice and smiled.  She looked off to the side so that I admired the beauty of her face in profile.  I walked away to the door looking back at her over my shoulder.  I went through the door to the world that was waiting for me outside.

To be continued.

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The Talisman: Part Two by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez

Photograph by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez
From The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

Continued from: https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2019/08/14/the-talisman-part-one-by-mark-alberto-yoder-nunez/

Perhaps it was the talisman but I took my savings and signed up to join the merchant marines.  Soon I would be leaving everything that was familiar behind.  People said I was still a young man so it was a good thing to see the world.  I wrote a letter to my mother who was in the land bound town I grew up in, the place I left because I couldn’t stand the thought of always wondering what was over the next hill.  This thought had vanished when I found the open sea stretching out before my eyes.

Before I was to leave I went back to find the curio shop where I had found the talisman.  It wasn’t there.  I traced my exact steps from the pier that day when I had encountered the little shop with the beautiful, oriental lady.  I knew these little lanes along the waterfront by heart.  I tried to find the corner I turned but only found the same familiar lanes and shops.  There was no oriental curio shop.  There was no vacant shop in its place.  It was as if I had imagined it or dreamed it but the talisman was in my possession.  I had it in my inner coat pocket.  I felt delirious.  Had I been lost?  I wandered farther in surrounding areas but these places, also familiar to me, did not make sense with the memory I had of that day when I found the shop, the lady and the talisman.

     With the merchant marines I traveled the world over and over.  I realized the dream of mine to visit the South Seas and the Orient.  This was only after many a cold journey in Northern waters to places like Finland and Sweden.  I enjoyed England, France and the Mediterranean.  My first storm at sea was the most incredible display of the power of Nature, beyond my imagination.

     When I finally was bound to the South Seas of the Pacific and the Orient beyond I was overjoyed at the leaping dolphins in the sparkling blue waters.  I was amazed by the flying fish skimming over the waves amid bright reflections.  There were the hot, summer nights so balmy with the iridescent glowing spots of mysterious night fish.   I felt in a wonderland.

And then there was the Orient.  I found myself wandering down streets and narrow lanes in Hong Kong and Shanghai.  These were places I had heard of and read about and I was there.  It was like hundreds of Oriental curio shops.  I was surrounded by them.  Mysterious Oriental men, mysterious Oriental women and children.  The children looked intently at me as I went walking by with mysterious little smiles on their upturned faces.  When I went to sleep at night I thought of the dream I had when I first acquired the talisman in which I felt I was lost in a foreign land and could not find my way back.  I did not however feel anxious about it as I had when I dreamed it.  I was living my dream and everything was as it should be.  I knew I would be able to find my way home or at least I thought I was sure of that.

     I tried to stay in the Orient for as long as I could but my contract with the shipping company that had brought me there required for me to continue on to India and Africa.  In fact I was to circumvent the globe returning to the cold Atlantic and ending my journey on the east coast of America.

From there I spent time traveling and living in parts of America I had not known before.  I had many adventures and fulfilled a dream of visiting the East coast and learning of it.  However since the only way I could make my living was as a sailor I had to find a ship that needed a hired hand.  Soon I was on my way to parts unknown.  From Norwegian fjords to tropical atolls, from cosmopolitan cities to farming communities I satisfied my curiosities about the world and the people in it.

      Everywhere I traveled I met the most beautiful and interesting women.  Sadness came at last when I thought how none of my love interests stayed in my life.  I wrote many romantic letters.  I gave significant gifts.  I had happy memories but in the end they all turned bittersweet.  The more I loved a woman, the more fleeting she became.  When I thought of all the possessions I had lost along the way in my travels curiously the talisman had always remained.

Continued on: https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2020/02/16/the-talisman-part-three-by-mark-alberto-yoder-nunez/

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The Ghost Ship: A Scary Story For Halloween

From The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

by Mark Alberto Yoder Nuñez

Illustration by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez
From The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

There were omens, I suppose, that superstitious sailors should have been attentive to when preparing for a voyage.  The feeling was so good at the time that all of us, ebullient at the prospect of the venture, just ignored the usual attention to superstition.

And so we set sail, fully confident that the captain and navigator knew their business.  Instead of seagulls there were crows, cawing incessantly.  A thought crossed my mind that I would see an albatross.  I put the silly thought out of my mind.

We were confident and we had a great sailing ship.  We set sail in northern waters but it was the beginning of summer.  We were bound with manufactured goods to trade for exotic items in the Orient.  The huge and awesome Ocean engulfed and surrounded us as usual.  However the chill, ocean air soon let go after only a week at sea and it became warmer.

One night with the light of a full moon illuminating the deck I saw the albatross circling and even hovering in the sky.  I knew I would keep this to myself but upon turning to my right I saw an aging sailor.  As my eyes fell upon his grizzled face in the semi-darkness he said, “Aye! And it is an omen!”

Since we were out at sea there was nothing I could do.  In fact as we got more into tropical waters the happiness of the crew grew by measures but there were no dolphins leaping from the water.  I felt a sense of foreboding.

As one of the days at sea started to approach twilight after a fiery red sunset great, storm clouds grew in the sky.  Their grey, blue colors and increasing darkness seemed unusually powerful.  The sailors prepared for the storm.  Soon the falling of the storm and onset of night completely surrounded us with darkness.  The captain, first mate and second mate took turns at the helm.  They turned the wheel of the vessel to keep the ship aimed directly into the huge, ocean waves so the ship would stay afloat.  The huge, ocean swells crashed against the bow with white water spraying but the skill of keeping the vessel turned toward the oncoming swells kept the ship from being pushed over from the side and capsizing.  The storm was more fierce than any veteran sailor among us could remember.  And so we were to weather the darkest of nights.  Yet there was confidence among this experienced crew.

As desperate as the night was the early grey of morning created hope.  There was still a storm but it had eased and it was not nearly so violent.  The officers of the ship and even a senior crew member manned the helm with confidence although their alertness could still not waiver.  Our survival depended upon it.  The crew members looked to the man at the wheel with trust.

In the late afternoon the darkness descended upon us again.  The masts bare against the ominous sky with sails furled.  The wind howled.  The vessel with the tiny lives of men on it creaked, cracked and moaned.  It was a voice that spoke to the innermost feelings of my heart.  My conscious mind reeled.  The night descended into a darkness as I had never known.  It was the ultimate humility to fall to sleep in a state of exhaustion not knowing who would live or die or if any of us would survive at all.

I awoke knowing that the water was still rough but the worst danger was over, at least if we were not hit with another such atrocious storm.  My logical mind thought that the time of year was wrong for such incredible storms and we had set sail at the correct time of year.  The other side of my mind acknowledged that every sailor knows the unpredictability of the sea.

I instinctively went out on deck to see what the true story was.  It was a miserable day of wet spray, rain, wind and grey clouds but the only danger was that a careless sailor might be washed overboard.  There was none that was careless among us so this was not a concern.  The night was similar with officers and sailors on alert.

Finally a dawn broke when it felt that the danger was over.  The sea was more as what we had expected it to be and periodic rays of sunshine broke through.  The next day pale blue sky was contrasted by shreds of dark clouds fleeing like phantoms in the speeding winds of the upper sky.  The white caps abated but the rumor was that our tiny, fragile, ocean vessel had been pushed far off course by forces much greater than ourselves.

At last we were able to hoist a few main sails.  In spite of the still lurking clouds, large swells and drizzles of rain it was time to get back on course.  It would still be hard to find our position on the globe until we could see the stars at night.  I went to sleep that night feeling confident that the navigator and captain would find our location and we would be able to be on course again.  The ship made a loud, creaking sound.  “Curious”, I thought.  The wind seemed to let out a moan.

When I awoke I saw bright sunlight through the portholes.  I went out on deck to see blue skies and feel warmth from the sun.  I took a deep breath of fresh, sea air.  I looked about.  “Something is wrong”, I thought.  I looked up at the helm.  The captain and navigator were talking.  Their faces were grim.  “What could be the problem?”

I looked about.  The ocean was as still as I had ever seen it in my entire life.  I looked up at the sails.  There was no wind.  We were adrift.

Continued on:

https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2019/10/26/the-ghost-ship-a-scary-story-for-halloween-final-episode/

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the spider lady: episode three

The Spider Lady
Excerpt

Continued from: https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2016/05/12/the-spider-lady-episode-two/

     I didn’t receive this taxi call again.  One night when after I got off work and got home about three in the morning I sat down in my canvas, director’s chair and started sipping on a beer.  I did this when I came home from work just to unwind and think about all the things that happened that day.  I often called taxi driving condensed cream of life.  One night of it was that intense.

     As I thought about all the amazing things I had experienced that day on the job I thought of “the spider lady” as I had come to think of her.  A poem came into my mind.  A very short poem but I felt compelled to write it down.  Perhaps I was on my second beer but my mind in the subdued lighting of my apartment where I was contemplating seemed to be in the darkness of the universe and I wrote down the poem:

                                 She turns herself into a spider

                              And spins a web

I don’t know why I felt compelled to write it in my notebook or why so few words seemed so important to write down.  I sat and my thoughts wandered to other things.

     One night at the end of the taxi swing shift some of the taxi drivers were congregated in the dispatch office to pay their lease money to the company after the bar rush was over.  A young woman cab driver who was known to be a lesbian said something because the conversation had come around to talking about the spider lady.  Other drivers had done deliveries to her, also.  The young woman cab driver’s friend, Janice, was there.  Janice was a friend of hers from college.  They had been on the women’s volleyball team together.  The taxi dispatcher on duty was a lady named Norma, a petite blonde woman who worked the graveyard shift.  She was one of the most skillful and crooked of dispatchers.  The young lesbian woman started talking about the spider lady.

     She said that the woman was a poetess and she was well off because of the sales of her poetry.  She said that her poetry was really weird and that it sold well in the San Francisco area.  She said that she knew about this because some of her friends knew about the woman and her poetry and recognized her name.

     They asked me why I called her the spider lady and I told them the story.  They loved the story and when some of the men cab drivers coming off of their shift walked into the office they told them that I had a great story about the woman that I called the spider lady so I repeated the entire story.  The men cab drivers who had many cab driver stories of their own were impressed.

Continued on:

https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2019/08/31/the-spider-lady-final-episode/