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    Blue Lake and Selected Short Stories
    Blue Lake and Selected Short Stories
    Blue Lake and Selected Short Stories
    Ebook97 pages1 hour

    Blue Lake and Selected Short Stories

    By Vernon E. Beall

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    About this ebook

    Blue Lake and Selected Short Stories
    1. Blue Lake––is a story that should warms the heart of the reader. Whimp, a crippled resident living in rural mountain poverty, meets a bank president fishing. One man fishes to survive, the other for sport. When they help each other, both men are rewarded.
    2. Money Hill––Local folks have good reason to avoid the cave on a mountain they call Money Hill. Visitors that had gone there refused to talk about their experience. Rumors said a treasure in gold was hidden inside the cave guarded by a powerful ghost. Robert McKenna was employed for the summer on a farm that bordered the mysterious mountain. On a dare from the farmer Robert agreed to visit the cave. He barely survived. This is his story.
    3. Breaking Rules—Confidentially is a cardinal rule in the world of banking. It takes a certain type person willing to break that rule and with impeccable reason.
    4. Bean’s Cove––recalls heritage of Old World immigrants. Traits inherited from ages past still survive in hidden hamlets and rural places long forgotten by politicians. These hardy people live simple lives respectful to their neighbors. Such is the tale of folks in the small village of Bean’s Cove. If you enjoy a laugh or a glance back memory lane, that’s okay too.
    5. Clay Pigeons—can’t really fly or eat vegetable gardens, but try to tell that to one irate woman!
    6. Ghost of Wegroan County. Folks of Wegroan County began missing things when Hose Winters moved his brood to an abandon shed on Fikes’ Ridge. Winters, who has never worked a day in his life, intends to stay as long as neighbors provide his needs. Local ‘good ole boys’ devised a plan to change his mind.
    7. Haunted Mansion––Stories of the spiritual world seems to always fascinate elements of the public. Perhaps that is why members of the Bedford Road Vagabonds set mischievous sights on Blakley Mansion. The eloquent building stood vacant that once offered hospitality to famous and talented guests. If anyone doubted tales the house was haunted, women members of a church choir could attest that it was so—except maybe for one woman.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherVernon E. Beall
    Release dateFeb 4, 2016
    ISBN9781311474582
    Blue Lake and Selected Short Stories
    Author

    Vernon E. Beall

    Vernon E. Beall entertained grade school classmates with harrowing tales of air duels with the Red Baron, wrote short plays for radio broadcast in high school, was an Army correspondent for the 29th Division, and wrote original musical productions in college. His stories are somewhat different today, but he still enjoys the thrill of bringing new characters to life. Mr. Beall served with the 3rd Army in Germany during WWII, created the credit department for a national bank, and served as the bank’s vice president. He also served as credit manager for Westinghouse Credit Corporation and Motorola in Baltimore, Maryland. He is a graduate of Potomac State College, University of West Virginia, and University of Virginia. He resides with his wife on a lake in Wisconsin where he continues to write.

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      Book preview

      Blue Lake and Selected Short Stories - Vernon E. Beall

      Blue Lake

      and other short stories

      Blue Lake

      and other short stories

      Published by Vernon E. Beall at Smashwords

      Copyright 2016 Vernon E. Beall

      Cover design, photograph and digital services provided by

      Bob Damon

      Damon Digital Services, LLC

      damon.digital.services@gmail.com

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Excerpt from: Mark Coker. Smashwords Style Guide. iBooks.

      Table of Contents

      Blue Lake

      Money Hill

      Breaking Rules

      Bean’s Cove

      Clay Pigeons

      Ghost of Wegroan County

      Haunted Mansion

      About Vernon E. Beall

      Blue Lake

      He was old and tangles of briars forced him to step carefully as he walked at a steady pace over a narrow footpath deeply shadowed under towering trees.

      His small fragile figure gave the appearance of a misplaced Lilliputian as he threaded his way beneath giant oak, maple, and hickory; still he moved with the wizened confidence of one long accustomed to his surroundings.

      An antique fishing rod with a missing ferrule and damaged handle was used alternately as a balancing pole, or to clear obstructions blocking the narrow path and slowing his progress. One leg was bent into a grotesque shape at his knee. The deformed stump seemed to dangle as an appendix under his frail body, rather than support it.

      His eyes held steady to a path secure in dark shadows, seemingly immune to peaceful and natural scenes that surrounded him. Lumber had been thinned from the area for a dozen years allowing occasional islands of brilliant light to filter through high leafy roof foliage.

      The man paused only when he reached a rusty water pump provided by the state’s park service. Stones surrounding the pump were covered in layers of moss. The pump got only limited use from seasonal hikers and campers whose arrival could be timed with the arrival of pesky black flies and swarms of newly hatched mosquitoes.

      Setting his pole aside he picked up a rusty can setting on a decaying wooden splashboard. A small nest of weeds had taken root in a broken corner of the board. Vigorous pumping on an iron handle, worn smooth from use generated a coughing sound deep from under the pump. Water shot out in jerky streams as if from a chocking monster. The spray of cold water quickly filled the can. The can was then carefully emptied into the top of the pump to prime it. Additional swift pumping was rewarded with a more steady steam of water. A glass bottle was removed from a hip pocket of faded and patched overalls. A corncob stopper was removed and the bottle was filled as pristine water ran down the man’s hand. Pumping stopped as soon as the bottle was filled in a frugal act to save water.

      The can was returned to its original place. The cob was twisted into the bottle top before it was replaced in a hip pocket. The last trickles of water were gathered in callused and weathered hands. The cool liquid was rubbed over his face, arms, and neck. His hand brushed a wisp of gray hair that had fallen across a forehead bronzed with time.

      He resumed his quest after retrieving his pole and a can of worms. A casual glace skyward told him it would be another hot day, but a smile worked the corners of his wrinkled face feeling the refreshing effects at the pump.

      When he was about to slide his sweating body over a thick tree that had fallen across the path, he stopped with a foot hanging in mid-air. Sounds like seed rattling in a hollow gourd were heard coming from under the log. Carefully he moved back gaining perch with both feet. Bending with a hand shading his eyes he saw a dark, coiled rope-like object. Tiny hostile eyes fixed on him, its tail vibrating a warning to leave.

      The man moved to the end of the log and continued on. The path narrowed and sloped down a leafy hillside. Before him a tree-lined shore exposed a wide mountain lake. The lake’s bright blue water sparkled like broken frosted crystal. He limped to a place already chosen. He stopped where a large oak lay partly submerged, its leafy branches spread across the water. Three feet from shore the water was a blended color of emerald green and navy blue.

      A red tail hawk floated high above and a mixture of chirping birds completed the Elysian setting. He placed his worn fishing pole against a tree. Ripples’ glistening across the lake’s surface, illuminated by a summer’s sun, was a postcard setting.

      From a crumpled brown paper bag a #6 fishhook was removed and tied to a ten-pound fishing line. A four-inch stick was removed from a faded denim shirt pocket. Bark had been trimmed from the stick. It was bleached chalk white by long hours in the sun. Hardened hands tied the stick two feet above the hook. When the line was baited and cast into the water, the wooden float could be seen clearly floating on the lake’s sapphire surface.

      After seating himself on a log the man began a methodical, but futile, search through each pocket in hopes of finding a particle of tobacco. He calmly accepted the fact with a look of defeat. He tried to remember the last time Nel had walked with him to Grover’s store. Three weeks? Must have been a day or so before that last thunderstorm he figured. The date escaped him but not the event. Nel had looked long at a blue cotton dress that hung on a pipe rack. Standing alone in back of the store, both knew they could not afford the twenty-nine dollar price tag.

      After Nel’s medicine was paid at Baker’s drugstore, he had only one dollar and twenty-three cents left from their monthly insurance check. There was no money for tobacco that day—or since.

      Nel was all he had left now. She had shared years of devoted love in spite of what she was forced to endure. His work in

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