Master Bath - Modern Bathroom

Bloody Terrible: Chapter 1

I've been writing a lot more lately and am genuinely, earnestly making headway on a few projects including: This Thing, a supernatural fantasy crime thriller starring vampires and sad teens and stepdads and weird magical folk, taking place in an alternate 1992 Chicago. Enjoy chapter one as a preview!

Fried Mackerel Sandwich

Monday Brunch special: Crunchy fried mackerel, thin sliced red onion, sunny side up egg, sweet mayo sauce, shaved carrot and cabbage on a baguette

Lieutenant Beuller looked over the mess, flicking a cigarette butt into the gutter with two thick, calloused fingers. Rain beat down, helping the fire department with their job- the building was a lost cause, but at least it hadn't spread.

"What a shit show." He muttered, moving alongside a fellow health officer- one of the field Scales- watching as a handful of survivors were shuffled into vans and ambulances, cast in Six AM sunrise glow. "What's it looking like?" Beat. "And can they shut those alarms off?"

"They're working on it." The younger man let out a deep, disappointed sigh. "But it looks like this was one of the modifier dens."

So they'd have magical contraband coming out their ears; they'd have to call the wizards. "But what happened in there?"

"Something, sir. We're still working it out- we can look around properly when the Salamanders clear us to enter."

"What's it look like so far?"

"A lot of bodies. Infighting is the guess, but there's possible signs of vampire interference."

"How's that?" He quirked dense peppery grey eyebrows. Infighting, sure.

"The usual signs on a few corpses, one of the guys we're taking to the hospital. Either way, it’s gonna make a hell of a story." So it would be an even bigger pain in the ass, and the reporters probably would be swarming in any minute. A thick underbelly of organized crime got a lot of bottom feeders, and god forbid they ever sleep.

Beuller adjusted his wide-brimmed hat, using its safety as cover to light another cigarette, pocketing the lighter again. "Get it sorted. I want those guys in shock blankets, assessed for residual magic or brainwashing and comfy enough to be singing like canaries by the time I get back. I'm going to ask a couple locals if they saw anything- before some snot with a mic wants a statement. Someone had to be up for their paper route or something."

He started to stroll to the front of the apartments next door, past a barrier keeping gawkers in sleepwear safe and at bay, trying to look a little more serene. The officer he'd been speaking to let his walkie buzz, picking it up, nodding once, before muttering something and raising a hand. "And, uh, Lieutenant Beuller- sir?"

"What is it Hatchet?" He halted, scowling again.

"Pachis just put in his resignation, apparently."

◊◊◊◊

Muriel Rampersand stared out through the shades of his secondary office, fingering open the slats to get a better view, squinting radioactive yellow eyes into the harsh sunlight. It was too early. He was tired. There was blood splattered across his nice white jacket, in the tangle of his silver hair. He smelled like ash, wet footprints tracked across the office carpet where he had entered.

He nearly hunched under the ceiling, the tips of short black horns brushing occasionally against mineral fiber tile. He needed this raised a few inches. Another problem for another day.

The lights were out, wide oak desk cast only in those bars of orange that leaked in with otherwise cold, ambient early daylight. No need to let anyone know he was here, not yet. The receptionist could put together the pieces. Muriel picked up the chunky cellphone he'd slammed onto the counter upon entry, mindlessly dialing Darcy and waiting on him to pick up.

"It’s Muriel." He spoke quietly, trying not to sound as wet and exhausted as he felt. His tone hardened slightly, setting his teeth. "I'm not down yet. But I think our little problem isn't either. I don't care what price we have to set;" He could probably throw five bucks at the problem and make it disappear, considering goodwill was in such little supply for Mr. Forba. "I want that old man dead."

◊◊◊◊

"Do you have your resume? One page, right? I left a messenger bag for you on the table."

"Yes, mom." Renee nodded, flipping through a few dot matrix copies of a very sparse resume- Seventeen. Highschool early graduate. No jobs, no qualifications. Soccer for two years. Member of the Future Leader's club. A few AP classes. Auto shop star. She tucked them into her bag, opening the refrigerator and picking up the plate with a few slices of cucumber topped with a dollop of cream cheese and a single pepperoni, tucking one into her mouth. "Thanks for making breakfast, too."

"Of course." Ginger nodded, relaxing slightly into her early morning train seat on the other end of the line. "I wanted to make sure you got something before I left. There's some frozen dinners. And stuff for soup, if you want to grab a rotisserie chicken with the dinner budget. I'll be home in a few days."

"Uh-huh. I'll take my applications to the Carter building, like you said. And Tito's." Renee smoothed out her pencil skirt a little uncomfortably. She felt like a little mini-version of her mother, caramel-colored panty hose and all.

"Fine, and Tito's.” Her mother sounded a tad exasperated, almost amused. “But I don't think you'll really fit in. If all else fails, there's still my office downtown-"

"No!-" The teen cut herself off, looking down and realizing she had a white-knuckle grip on the thick phone cord. "It's just- I don't want your name to do all the work. And the Tito's guys know me, I was there all the time with dad."

'I know, but-"

Ginger had to concede when her daughter was right. "Okay. But if you get an offer from anywhere in the carter building, please take it."

"Of course, mom." Renee put on a melancholy smile and a softer tone, trying not to sound too worked up. "Promise. Next time you see me, I'll be a working woman."

"That's the attitude!" She laughed as her mom belted over the phone. "Be good, Nene. And don't take a no personally, if it happens. And tell Tyson hello for me, he might stop in for dinner or TV one night. No wild parties."

"Yes mama- I've got to run, talk to you soon."

Renee sat the phone down, finishing off her cucumber breakfast and going to find the peanut butter cup stash she kept hidden behind the breadbox, taking one for the road. This was her first day playing the game of adulthood, and she was in it to win.

◊◊◊◊

"Tostones Huevos rancheros." Tyson Pachis looked over the diner menu, pulling from his mug of watered down black coffee. "And, uh- a waffle. With whipped cream." He tapped nervously at the laminate menu before handing it back.

The waitress quirked an eyebrow at him momentarily before moving on, scribbling down his order. Could have been a stranger order. Could have been a stranger man. Instead it was a nervous looking middle-aged dad-type in a Scales sweatshirt and baseball cap, fingers drumming the countertop.

Tyson was affixed on the corner TV. The radio in his office got shit signal and he had run out for breakfast the moment breaking news turned around to a fire in the sub-basement of a local office building. Magic venting, illegal body mod spell production, suspected monster attacks, bodies. He had expedited his frankly very late resignation call from the landline and come straight to the nearest cafe with a tv to watch the story develop.

He let out a soft, anxious breath. He'd been up all night, worrying about work, the new office, where and what parts of his life and reputation had been preserved. What he had been preparing for for months.

Ha, what reputation.

His rough old sneakers clattered quietly against the barstool footrest, restlessly tapping. He wanted to make himself relax- get a big meal to help as he watched the morning news reports and a sixth or seventh cup of coffee in the last so-many hours to, well, not help.

The diner was mostly quiet; on a weekday mid-morning, post-rain most people were already on the last stretch of their commute. He sighed again, clenching a fist to stop tapping at the countertop again when the waitress shot him a dirty look.

It was fine- shame about the actual staff Muriel had lost, but that was going to be lost either way. Finally, importantly, he had that weight off his back. Probably. He had to keep telling himself that.

◊◊◊◊

When did he black out?

Nostriano came to, huddled in on himself where he had apparently collapsed behind a dumpster. His body ached, clammy hands clawing at rough pavement until he was somewhat upright.

His head hung unnaturally to one side, feeling at the ragged wound where he had been stabbed, fingers coming away from the crook of his neck tacky with near-black blood. It burned there, his teeth set on edge by the effort of moving, of irritating it.

The man struggled to stand, grateful he had managed to find someplace not even pervasive mid-morning sun reached when he fell. Grateful no one had found him while he was out.

He needed to get home, to evaluate where was safe since things had gone sideways. He'd barely escaped that shitshow with his life, trying to find where his carefully calculated plan had slipped-

Where Muriel had gotten that knife. Why he didn't remember it, among other tacky antiques on the shelves of his office.

But memory of mere hours ago was fogged by smoke and pain and failure, places he didn't want to go. Not while this weak.

Pathetic.

He clawed his way up the wall until he was standing, acknowledging his ruined clothes with a quiet hiss of disgust. He needed to feed, to expedite the healing process so he could solve this little conundrum of failure. Muriel may well have someone posted at the bank, he couldn't risk turning up so injured alone in public. Nostriano felt a short shock of revilement at the idea of slinking around out of fear.

Forget the bank. What was the point of drinking blood if you didn't spill it yourself?

◊◊◊◊

Arthur Beuller prepared to step into the alley between the brunch place Joel insisted on and the tax office, cutting through the back with his fried-mackarel-and-egg sandwich in hand. These meetings had become routine, nonthreatening, and he may as well get his meals on the clock. It was barely nine, he was early for once, and his contact should be here any moment.

Nostriano's ear flicked, hearing the door hinges creak before it even began to open. He was still hunched over his victim, blood seeping into cool dark tarmac and brick. It was daylight, someone was bound to find the body abducted into a humming business's back alley relatively quickly. He had had his fill of prey, gotten some strength back- though it was not enough- and it was time to flee. The stolen coat and hat could help brave daylight fine.

His form shifted, fingers grotesquely outstretched, back arching, a quick process to allow a relatively unnoticed getaway as a bat-

Until it stalled, the alternate shape his curse afforded halting and stuttering, beginning to ache. The vampire began to pant, gasping and kicking, trying to force what was usually painless and simple as a two-step dance. He was stuck, maw hanging open, panting, still man-sized and animalistic with a blonde ruff of fur extending down his bony, near-exposed spine. He snarled, voice caught in his throat, trying desperately to backpedal as oft-malleable flesh became chorded and stiff. Panic hit him hard, eyes rolling, as things went sideways again in the moment it took for Arthur to push open the door and actually look up.

He was met with a shriek, something freakish swinging at him with claws and teeth, blood splattering against the wall next to him as it moved. He wasn't processing all of it, didn't have time to, stumbling not back the way he came but toward the alley’s mouth, daylight, a street surely teeming with witnesses.

The thing didn't give chase, anchoring claws into rock and scrambling up the building, over the roof and away with a furious series of huffs, dragging a trail of wet, stinking crimson up the wall behind it.

Arthur tripped as he made it out of the alley, falling over himself and stumbling into the man he was meant to meet- Joel Guerra. A short dwarf giant at over eight feet, he towered over Arthur’s stout just-under-five. He caught the panicked, stuttering smaller man by the back of his shirt collar, standing him back up and staring off into the alley.

"What's happening, Arty?" He looked down, usual grin punctuated by one gap tooth on the left side pulling hesitantly at his mouth. He was wearing a striped tank top, showing off the guns- full length sleeves of scalemail tattoos punctuated with pink, seafoam, and blue in the gray over broad boxer’s muscles. Young and punchy as always, but he hadn't just seen what Arthur had.

"There's some goddamned thing back there-" He shook. "Or there was. It jumped me! I coulda been monster chow-" He fixed his thick-framed square glasses, looking down at the splatter of red flung across his white polo, and the sandwich he had accidentally crushed in hand. "Aw hell."

Joel scowled, hands crammed into his pockets. He moved past Arthur, into the alley, looking at the blood and stopping at something behind the dumpster, humming softly. "You interrupted it eating, by the look of it."

Arthur's stomach turned. He immediately whirled around, digging the Scales badge out of his pocket and finding the chunky satellite walkie at his belt, calling in. "Hey, uh. We've got a crime scene at tenth. Yeah, we need someone out here asap before a crowd gathers. I think I saw the culprit too."

Joel moved back, not wanting his hands on a murder site. His own beeper buzzed, picking it up to once over and quirking one eyebrow. "I've gotta bounce, Arty. Got an appointment with some kid who wants to go pro in boxing. You know how it is."

"Hey!" Arthur prickled, panic setting at the back of his voice. He wasn't a field guy. Someone was dead less than ten feet away. "You can't just go, you're a witness!"

"Call me later." The giant began to stroll away into the slow mid-morning foot traffic, studying his pager. "Can't miss this job."

"Hey!"

◊◊◊◊

Renee arrived in city central on the bus line, dropped off at a covered station next to a news stand. The carter building loomed in the center of the block, an immense black tower of business and commerce, gilded in gold. A very large, very busy directory was mounted by the door, listing a variety of law, tax, investment, and other business offices. Very respectable places to get your career started.

She dug into her bag for the stack of resumes, checking once more that her home number was on each; they may not have time for her today after all. Hopefully they wouldn't. Bookkeeping or reception was fine, but it was static. Whiling away at papers and money forever, in the mind of a teenager at least.

She picked away at the tractor hole-lined edges and folded one resume in half, slipping it into a side pocket of her bag, for Tito's. That bike shop had practically been her daycare, watching her dad spend his free time outside of inter-department government liaison desk jockeying, restoring an old beetle-green vintage bike. She had learned not to get underfoot; it was the or Mrs. Bo down the street for babysitting after all, and her house smelled like lemon cleaner and moth balls. They had also had a garage cat, and that kept her occupied when the regular mechanics were busy around the water cooler.

She had absorbed the rev of engines after repair, the careful reconstruction of shrapnel after one of the monthly scrap-robot fighting league matches, the name of every tool and wrench and wire, and she knew that the garage was where she was meant to be. Maybe they wouldn't let her take on full-time technician work right away, but an apprenticeship-

She had walked into the Carter building and entered the elevator without thinking about which offices she planned on going to. She wound one thick, neat braid of black hair around her fingers in thought. May as well just hit a button and see what was there. Out of the options, law didn't sound so bad. Maybe investment. Had to be some excitement there, some technical interest in bank runs or lawsuits and buyouts. She would see what was willing to take a kid’s resume, and who didn’t bore her to death.

◊◊◊◊

Nostriano had made it, crawling and sprinting alternatively along rooftops, away from that alley to a public restroom slightly further away under the flimsy protection of his stolen coat. His body burned and fought like a wild animal, but it did return to its original shape by the time he arrived next to a black monolith eyesore of a building, taking advantage of now mid-morning quiet.

The room was cool and blessedly unoccupied, panting and staring at himself in the mirror. Nostriano had never been without a reflection in his afterlife, as mirrors had long since stopped being made with silver backing by the time he died, and water was rarely the only available surface for looking at oneself. It still didn’t always reflect good things, though. He looked haggard, miserable; The coat hung off his skinny form, his golden blonde hair flat and scraggly, blood spilled down the front of his shirt like a bib. His meal had been for naught, the botched change and effort having ripped his wound freshly open again.

One solid wave of dizziness hit him and the vampire's knees buckled, catching himself on the sink and barely halting the fall. His flats slid back on the tile, claws digging into countertop and hissing at his reflection. "Get it together Nostriano." He snarled at himself, trying to formulate a plan to get home with his dignity intact.

His expression in the mirror fell, getting his strength back enough to crawl towards the reflection and examine it more closely, chest tight. His normally rich, light brown eyes had flushed red- beyond the sign of desperate hunger. It covered the whites, the pupils, solid red like wells of blood.

He needed help.

◊◊◊◊

Only one place wanted an interview right away, and Renee found herself largely leaving her resumes with friendly front desk people in nice waiting rooms.

She had practiced with her mom for these sorts of questions and found herself reeling off practiced answers almost robotically.

"I want to start my career and somewhere I see myself staying at-"

"Passionate about organization-"

"Here's my extracurriculars"

"I graduated early with AP honors-"

The interviewer nodded, smiled, told her about how they managed investment portfolios and so-on. She was in and out of the interview in under half an hour, unsure of what else to say when their basic questions were done. The waiting rooms and lobbies of the carter building blended together in a way that felt alien as she wandered through them; not even her mother's work was so... sterile. The governor's office had history, or at least a cozy leather couch.

As she wandered back out to the front Renee jotted down the names of where she had applied. Only one resume remained, the one reserved for Tito's. She was sure she wouldn't need it.

She found herself back outside the imposing office building just under two hours after arriving, staring up at towering city blocks of mixed high-rise apartments, businesses, and more. Greenery hung off the porches and banks of high-up planted rooftop parks, and the wide sidewalks were dotted with food carts and news stands. It was sunny, early summer, and late-morning the streets were not yet abuzz with lunchgoers and break-takers. The Chicago city center was hers for the taking before she needed to catch the hourly train back to the more open residential area she had grown up in.

Oh, she was going to shop, and explore. There was an automobile museum she planned to hit, the soda fountain across the street, there had to be a place offering hair accessories or other fashionable bits and bobs nearby. If she was going to wear business formal, she was at least going to find some way to primp without it getting in the way. And there was always lunch, already very aware her lightweight breakfast was wearing off.

But first-

Renee located a nearby public restroom, withdrawing a more comfortable pair of faded shorts and a polo from her bag and entering before she glanced up and found herself stopped short.

At the sinks, outside of the solid-walled private bathrooms, was a very haggard looking man. He was barely holding himself up by the counter, face and sharp goatee wet from washing and blonde hair hanging in a curtain over his forehead. His coat hung askew but he quickly adjusted it as she entered, unnaturally red gaze unsteady but still piercing as it fixed on her.

His hunched form looked like it was about to fall in on itself, largely obscured by the oversized clothing. He started to move forward, expression somewhere between an animal's grimace and absolute horror.

She didn't really think before she went to catch him, seeing, mostly, an older man in clear need even as the hair on the back of her neck prickled.

"You-" He snatched at her arm, teeth gritted. "Are going to help me.”

The Head and the Heart, Part 3

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1….You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online– or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly–I created the title art–LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go…

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies– or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair– you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 4200

Part Three: Delmar Hospitality

        Antha slowly raised her hands in surrender. It was the best she could do in this unforeseeable situation. Beads of sweat rolled down her chest and back. The searing chill sobered her instantly. “We—we—” She found her mouth desert-dry and unable to form a coherent sentence.

        “Well, are you trespassing or are you lost?” The silken voice demanded.

        “We’re—we’re lost.” Antha panted. A light tumble sounded in the wooded brush as Tessa’s mouth fell open with a gasp, only her teeth could be seen. She fainted.

        “Oh.” The voice sighed. Before Antha understood what was happening long cool fingers wrapped around her wrist and brought her up to stand. “Here.” Those same fingers handed her the gun. She violently shook, her nails impulsively tapping against the metal of the barrel.

        The clouds shifted intermittently, splashing eerie washes of light across the blackness. Long, ethereal white arms appeared out of the dark as the stranger pushed up his sleeves. These bodiless limbs wrapped about Tessa. Am I watching Fantasia? Antha thought—it didn’t even occur to her that she was now armed and could defend them, though she was hardly capable in her muddled state. She stepped back to see him lift her unconscious sister.

        The moonlight poured over something akin to a roman statue come-to-life, with a long column neck and limbs. It frightened Antha to see this otherworldly man peer down from his full height—his great silver-colored eyes burning amidst the night. Despite logic, she had the distinct feeling that he could see more of her than she could of him. “I presume you’ve spoken to the police?” He asked calmly.

        She patted her legs instinctually and realized her sundress had no pockets. Somewhere far, far away her cellphone was nestled in her messenger bag, in the back of Tessa’s car. She shook her head ‘no’ as she was still at a loss for words. “Well, come along then,” replied the stranger. His accent was clean; obviously he wasn’t born of this slower-lower side of the world but seemingly mimicked their colloquialisms.

        Like a white knight he led Antha from darkness and into a comfortably lit yard in the middle of the woods. The well-kept grass stretched in front of them toward a darling little house. There were candle lights in every dormer window, a white-slatted porch with rocking chairs and a sign that said “No Vacancy” to greet them. The stranger turned, “Welcome to Hollow House,” he stated neutrally, not exactly instilling hospitality. Antha clutched the gun in her arms, scanning her surroundings when she could manage to tear her eyes from him.

        Tessa looked like a beloved ragdoll, her long braids swinging peacefully with every step. The stranger held her tenderly as if an appendage of himself, her head cradled to his chest. Why couldn’t I have fainted? Why am I always the one to sort everything out? Antha thought. He carried her with ease up the porch steps and hesitated. He hovered over Tessa’s face for a moment as if he was going to plant a magical kiss that would awaken her from slumber. Then he turned to Antha, brows knitting together for a brief moment.

        “You’re twins.” He chuckled to himself as if something about that was charming. “Would you please?” He motioned to the screen door. She stood frozen in place as if the simple instruction was too much to fathom. “Antha,” he crooned, “when I take you inside, I will lay your sister down, get you cleaned up, and then we will call the authorities. I will help you sort everything out in no time.”

        Thick waves of auburn hair tucked behind his ears and one errant curl falling in his eye line drew her in. His excellent hair aside, he seemed normal enough. Given the monsters she encountered thus far, the normalcy of the house and this stranger were beyond comforting. Additionally, the fact that he held Tessa to his chest made him simply irresistible to deny.

        She shook as she reached for the screen door and held it for him, then he swooped Tessa over the threshold into a lovely foyer. A lean spindle-legged table held brochures for Hollow House Bed and Breakfast. The simple cottage layout and plate of cookies at the door all confirmed for her that she was in fact standing in a bed and breakfast. She followed slowly and watched as he laid her sister down in the Hibiscus Room, right off the foyer and overlooking the back patio. The peach tapestries, brick fireplace, and mahogany wooden furniture framed Tessa, making her nothing short of a sleeping beauty with her mane cascading across the crisp pillows.

        Antha paced backward as he turned to her, leaving the guest room door cracked open. “I assure you she is fine. How about we set this down?” He carefully approached her to take the gun but she clenched it as if she suddenly couldn’t imagine parting with it.

        She didn’t like how he filled up the foyer, frame blocking the dim ceiling light the way an oak tree does the sun. “I’m very sorry about how I approached you before. I heard you two stomping through my woods—and you alarmed me.” He said coolly, not an ounce of excitement in his eyes or face, not even a flush in his cheeks. “Tell me what happened.” When he asked she strangely felt beholden to him. She couldn’t help feeling that he was reading her mind—she knew that was a stupid thought—but something about the way those big eyes held her in place.

        “There was a fight, and, and Tessa ran and so I chased after her—we fell and you found us.” She spilled all of the highlights as if she were reading a teleprompter. The prying feeling lessened when he broke eye contact.

        “I see. Well, please come sit down, allow me to help.” His voice dripping like honey down the back of a spoon. He went to the small dining room off the foyer, pulled out a chair and politely beckoned her to sit. She wagered the risk for a moment but ultimately leaned the gun against the table—within reach—when she accepted the offered seat.

        Feeling naked without the weapon, she held herself as he explained he would bring water. He did everything he said he would and within seconds she found herself staring bewildered into a glass of tap water. Antha felt more at ease when he finally removed the gun from the table and promised to put it away. The kitchen was right off the dining room and she listened as he retreated to the phone, setting the gun down. “…two young women—yes, here at Hollow House. Yes, this is Mr. Smith… Mmm-hmm… No one is harmed. Yes, of course, I understand. Thank you.”

        Antha heard the click of the landline phone being holstered and thought about how long it had been since she had heard such a noise. Since her grandmother’s house she supposed. Her eyes continued their investigation as she waited. Trying to remind herself that she was just on-guard from the hellish night Tessa had put her through.

        The cottage was fine, everything in place. A fruit bowl on display, frills on every corner, the carpet vacuumed. He did everything he said he would, she reminded herself again as she sat on her shaking hands. She was fine. They would wait for the police. They would be fine, she convinced herself.

        He returned to the table with a plate and towel in hand. The plate was placed in front of her and then he bent with a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. For a moment Antha found herself quite overwhelmed, quaking in her seat, the adrenaline threatening to keep her on the run until her heart gave out.

        “I believe your story checks out Miss Antha,” he said humorously, “the police said that there was an awful scuffle at the bar out by the road. Once they’re done cleaning that up, they will come to get you two.”

        “Mr. Smith, how did you know my name?” She asked, just over-hearing his from the phone call.

“I could hear you calling to each other.” He explained. “You two created quite the ruckus out there.” He was leaning closer than Antha would have preferred. She never recalled Tessa calling out for her. She also didn’t think she told him about the bar either—stop being stupid Antha, the police told him about the bar, obviously, she chastised herself, her paranoia getting the better of her.

        After pulling the twigs from her braids, wiping the dirt from her forehead and neck he bent to one knee to clean her hands. She sipped her water and stared down at him. His hair was a bit longer than how most men would wear it now, wing-tipped behind his ears and lending to the romance of an Edwardian fashion. The long bridge of his nose and well-placed lips made him truly worth staring at, like the classical paintings in her textbooks.  When he wrapped the cloth over one of her palms his nostrils flared. “That’s a nasty scrape.”

        Antha didn’t realize she was bleeding from when she caught herself on the pavement of the parking lot. Before he sat, she observed his dark button-down shirt partially tucked into slacks; his musculature was not consistent with his occupation. This guy works out for serving cookies and delivering extra pillows, she thought and continued sipping her water. Those great nocturnal eyes never left her, even as he reached toward a bowl on the table, his eyes stayed with her.

        “Here, you must be starved,” he showed his hand to reveal a whole pomegranate. Before she could deny the fruit he tore it open between his large hands. The leathery skin shredded apart as the sanguine juice dotted his pale fingers, the table, and the plate in front of her. Antha could hear herself swallow as the little massacre happened right before her eyes. “Eat, Persephone, and never be released from my palace.” He laughed.

        “I know that myth,” she forced a scoff despite how anxious she felt. She was compelled to be still, attempting to plan her next moves. She wasn’t sure if she was still out of fear or if he was willing her to sit. There was this scratching at the back of her mind again, like a dog at the backdoor, relentlessly trying to get into her subconscious.

        “I had a feeling you would.” He replied knowingly. He leant into his palm on the table, as if fearing she would be too far from him. His offering seemed forced as if he had just read a beginner’s manual of cordiality. Nothing felt organic or friendly. Everything is fine, was what she thought, but something in her gut told her, but not safe. As if an ocean could not quench her thirst Antha finished the water and jolted upward from her seat.

        “I need more water,” she stated blatantly and made her way to the kitchen before he could offer. She felt she could breathe for a moment without those curious gray orbs on her. The kitchen was outdated, but appeared older due to the orange cast of the overhead fan light ticking away, struggling to cool the space. She clutched the sink as if it was her last anchor to the earth. Her eyes kept shooting upward to the dark window in front of her. All she could see was her reflection and the open doorway to the dining room behind her; she was trying to watch her back, making sure nothing suddenly moved.

        While the tap poured foggy water into her glass her eye caught a picture on the counter with a little old white-haired man and woman, their wrinkles holding their sunglasses in place, with Rehoboth Beach in the backdrop. “When are the cops coming?” She called weakly, trying to appear conversational and unsuspecting.

        “Realistically tomorrow morning, not long from now.” His voice carried. He was still at the dining table. Good, stay there, she thought.

        “Oh, we couldn’t trouble you for that long!” Her voice broke against her will, unsure why panic was suddenly rendering her immobile, holding white-knuckled to the sink. Why was there an empty room for Tessa? The sign said ‘no vacancy’.

        Staring at the picture, she saw it said The Smiths 2016. The water was streaming over her hand, overflowing from the already full cup. Her eyes found the reflection of the gun leant up against the ancient landline phone on the wall in the window; it wasn’t the phone itself that made the blood drain from her face, it was the severed phone line dangling from the receiver like a noose. Her heart plunged into her stomach as she pieced together the clues—they were in very real danger.

        “I insist you stay,” the rich-timbered-inflection was too close, and cold breath trickled down the back of Antha’s neck. There was no reflection of the man behind her in the window, all she could see was the terror on her face.

        Glass shards and water exploded against the sink as her hand lost her cup. Her feet left the ground as she found herself turned, and lifted to the counter, her back against the cabinetry. “There’s no possible way we can stay—you see—I, I have misplaced my wallet!” She stammered, attempting to rationalize the situation.

“I’m positive we can agree on an alternate arrangement.” He wedged himself between her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the counter, his nails growing and sinking into her lower back like meat hooks. She had never seen someone so malevolent and beautiful in equal measure as he loomed over her mouth.

        “—Please, I must take my sister home—” she begged, not knowing what was to come. “I can’t leave her—we have to go home!” Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to pull away from the stranger, but found herself latched to him with nowhere to run. His hands held strong as his lips reached the shell of her ear.

        “I wouldn’t dream of separating a pair—she will follow you shortly.” He promised. “Stay.” He told her as if commanding her soul. She found herself unable to fight, her muscles waning as if under a spell. The cold of his cheek dragged across hers as he pulled back to look over her face, his feral irises dilating, impersonal and hungry. His grin displayed a mouth-full of pearly teeth as he sunk to the floor and splayed open Antha’s legs. He hummed gluttonously when he kissed the inside of her knee. His canine teeth grew outward, revealing pristine fangs the closer he drew to her apex. This isn’t real—what is he doing? Her mind raced, her fingers searching blindly on the counter for aid. He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and Antha mustered the last of her will to kick him in the face before she could find out.

        She launched herself from the counter clumsily as the stranger recoiled, her muscles waking up from their enchantment. After snapping his broken nose back into place, he caught a second wind and lunged for her neck. Instinctively, her wrapped hand shoved the stray piece of glass from her broken water cup into the corner of his mouth. He leant against the counter, retracted his fangs and smiled through it, as if he had been pleasantly surprised.

        She snatched the gun as she darted to a nearby door in the kitchen. Her hands frantically locking the door and then searching for a light. Rickety wooden stairs bowed under her feet as she followed carefully forward, her gun-hand sliding down a railing and the other on its mission for a light switch. She could hear him groan as he pulled forth the glass and the blood spilled to the linoleum floor. “Antha, darling,” that same penetrating voice hummed above her as he gathered his bearings, “stay and fight me off—I do so enjoy this.” She could hear him gagging and spitting—she could only hope the glass shard spliced his gums.

        Finally, as if her prayers had been answered, her hand found what it had been seeking. She flipped the light switch on to find one lone dangling bulb above her. For the third time of evening, Antha’s feet left the earth and she toppled over a pile of laundry at the base of the stairs. She saw nothing to defend her, no place to hide. When she scooted back from the heap, she saw fuzzy white tufts. To her horror she recognized old Mr. Smith crumpled atop other bodies, their throats and wrists torn out, blood pooling across the floor.

        Antha covered her mouth to stop from screaming. Her tear ducts working hysterically as she distanced herself from the carnage. How did I end up here? This can’t be happening! The cautious twin thought to herself, why me? The rattle of the door knob broke through her shock as the perpetrator tried to gain access to the basement. The foundation shook as he began ramming himself into the basement door—BAM—BAM—BAM—the door and frame failing under his inhuman force, the wood splintering and the drywall crackling.

        Searching again for anything to save her, as if she was swarmed in answers that her brain could not comprehend in its panic—Antha finally noticed a cellar door. Rushing to it, she undid the inside latch and pushed upward to get out. She could hear the basement door explode, the skittle-like bounce of nails and screws as it finally gave way under his might. Throwing the door back down she jammed the handle with a nearby shim.

        Scrambling through the backyard she hid behind a tree, knowing that it was only a temporary delay for him. The stranger was much too keen for her to outrun she guessed, she definitely couldn’t fight him—perhaps hiding would give her a moment to develop an escape path back to Tessa, an element of surprise—or anything—against him. Antha’s pulse hammering, the vein in her neck thick like an anaconda as the adrenaline coursed through her. She cocked the gun blindly, praying she did it right—worst case scenario she was going to go out swinging the damn thing. How will I get to Tessa?

        Antha pressed her back into the large tree, her gun readied. Trickles of blood ran hot down her legs from his vicious claw marks. She tried to control her breath, but his fury found the cellar doors faster than she wanted. The slamming began again until one of the cellar door’s peaked upward, his elbow bending it as if mere tinfoil. Seconds later the door flew into the yard, mangled.

        “I imagined Tessa to be the runner!” He laughed as he emerged from the ground, taking his time. “Antha, come back to me.” His voice fell into a low growl as he scanned the yard. Her hands shook with resentful readiness.

        Then there was silence, abrupt and oppressive. Her ears strained but could not hear his panther like steps. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping it would aid her hearing—but she was met with complete nothingness. She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and the faint hiss of her exhale trumpeted amongst the stifling stillness. It must have given her away as the lean, wiry fingers found her throat and ripped her up from the ground like a dandelion.

        She shoved the gun tip to his chest, ready to take out his heart. But to her unfathomable dread, the gun failed her. The dead click of an ammo less shotgun became nothing more than a toy prop in her dire moment. She did what she could to wield it like a bat, but was unsuccessful as he caught it and crushed it in his other hand. Suffocating in his grip she tried to break free.

        “You’re insufferable,” he sneered, his mouth growing its tissue back and reconstructing the damage he endured moments prior. “Did you think I would leave it loaded?” His bright steely eyes scouring over her struggling frame. “As enjoyable as this was, our time is unfortunately over. I will make you a promise.” He pulled in closer, “I will take my time with Tessa.”

        Without cue a wet, meaty sound cut through the woods. The stranger gasped, full of horror and rage as he reached to his chest. A fire iron pierced through from his back. His eyes, nose, ears, and mouth began to bleed. Antha pushed out of his grasp when he lurched forward to the ground. She was on the brink of unconsciousness as she wheezed for breath. She found Tessa was the great impaler. “I’m—not done with—you foolish girls…” He hissed like a deflating tire, his immortal sinews collapsing like a bowl of spaghetti dumped onto the lawn.

        Tessa skirted the rapid decay and pulled Antha into her arms. Stock-still they watched. They bared witness as he writhed, his porcelain skin dripped with taffy-like stretch and slid off his bones. He melted into a puddle, with nothing recognizable left except lumps of clothing and two silver eyes. Tessa reached toward the eyes, but her sister stopped her.

        All that could be heard was their panting and the fizzle of a creature dissolved. They looked to each other, wordless and beyond repair. After a moment or two they drug themselves around the side of the house and toward the driveway. Hearts still punching against their ribcages, the girls numbly followed the long-wooded drive.

        When they finally made it to the main road they found the next street lamp was another mile off. All that could be heard was the rustle of the surrounding crops. They followed the road back toward the light of civilization. Antha couldn’t shake the horror of the Smith’s being slaughtered by that thing. She shivered again, feeling the stranger’s eyes on her. She tried to push the thought down. It’s dead, she thought.

After sometime Tessa began to speak, “I woke up and saw a little old lady on the side of the bed. Her neck was covered in strawberry jam,” she paused strangely, “but I knew it wasn’t jam Ant.” She whined.

        “I know, I know.” Antha stopped to soothe her. Tessa buried her head into her sister’s neck and they held strong for barely a moment before weeping. Antha had never been so relieved to have her sister. She couldn’t believe Tessa was the one to save them. From now on she would abandon her role as the babysitter. All of her safe-keeping and methodical avoidance of danger had failed them both. It was Tessa’s wild heart that saved them.

        “I couldn’t believe you kicked him in the face.”

        “You saw that?”

        “I almost lost my shit—hey, what was he doing down there?” Tessa finally asked.

        “The femoral artery is—well and when you factor in gravity—” Antha’s analytical side kicked in but then quickly dissipated from the stress. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” She finally sighed, unable to comprehend the fact that she was almost drained by her crotch. Both of them smirked but within a breath were crying again.

        “I’m so tired.” Tessa grumbled and then called for Zoey three times, wishing she would appear to take them home.

“Doug… Doug… Doug…” Antha whispered to herself.

        Just as they thought the night would never end and their blood-stained clothes would never dry, they heard the familiar wheeze of Doug’s old Buick.

        After a deluge of crying, embracing, and the erratic retelling of the whole evening, the twins found themselves buckled in the backseat on their way to the emergency room. Tessa finally sighed when Doug stopped looking at them in his rear-view mirror. He must have mumbled to himself “…vampires?” at least a dozen times as he drove. She sidled into Antha, holding her hand with an iron-clad grip and closed her eyes. Antha couldn’t relax. Her nerves were beyond frayed and she grew uncomfortable under the weight of her sister’s weary head. Something blunt was stabbing into her backside and she shifted in her seat.

        The bright lights of the emergency room entrance burned the teary-eyed passengers. Doug pulled up and jumped out of his car, opening the door for them. “What the hell is in this car—you got rocks back here?” Antha sassed him about cleaning his Buick as she dug out the troublesome object in her seat. Tessa did the same, unbuckling herself and wriggled in discomfort.

        “I just vacuumed, like last year,” he defended, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In the commotion of the two digging around and shuffling old coke-a-cola bottles and vintage DVDs, they suddenly ceased. A strange silence fell between them. “What is going on back here?” He stared anxiously at them.

Each twin opened a hand to find one silvery, gleaming eye.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn @plastic-heart​ @confusednerd09​

RADTASK002: A GIRL AND HER DOG

March was a month without a season. Couldn’t call it spring yet; most of the trees were still bare, their long, dark limbs scraping up against the sky. Temperatures hovered indecisively around the low-fifties, then plummeted steeply each night. But there was something stirring: a birth of new smells, a trace of green in the yellow grass. A feeling of change, or the very brink of it, which had possessed him like an infusion of fresh blood and driven him outdoors— despite his three-hour block of afternoon classes, despite all the half-finished projects waiting for him in the studio. Outside, clouds skimmed the blue sky and squirrels tightrope-walked the phone lines. Birds huddled on exposed branches, returned from their long winter vacations. There was a smell of mulch in the air, fertile and earthy. A warm wind was blowing— as he walked outside the art building, Marlowe could feel it blowing through him as if through an open window, airing out all the trapped gloom in his soul. 

Gloom could accumulate even in him, of all people. There was something elemental about his need for sun and fresh air and open space; it was a quality he shared with all the other wild creatures who, after several long months deprived of all these things, were now also emerging from their dens and burrows, hungry and restless, desperate to roam. 

Today he was wearing a paisley bandana fashioned around his head, Springsteen-style, and a silver hoop through his ear. Both of these accessories gave his appearance a swashbuckling, pirate-y effect. Marlowe seemed to embody the part as he cleared a railing one-handed like a rodeo clown, then took the rest of the stairs two-at-a-time to where a girl waited for him at the bottom, her blonde hair lifted by the breeze. She kept her head bowed over her hands, deeply engrossed in the cat’s cradle she was weaving. 

Spacey Kasey. She was a junior in the Comp-Sci program. Sometimes people reacted to this information with a slow raise of their brows, or an actual laugh— more out of surprise than anything else, but that didn’t make it any kinder. No one really knew what to make of her. She could write code like Mozart wrote symphonies, but might also ask you if you knew how pineapples got their name, since they looked nothing like apples? Marlowe had met her at a party where she’d wondered precisely that, out loud, before turning her wide eyes to him; she had a child’s inquisitive stare. Why not pinefruit? He’d been fascinated from that moment on. His love for her had been a product of that fascination; he’d sensed something dreamy and outcast in her, something rare, easily misunderstood. They’d coupled up in late September, lasted till early November, the days dwindling and the nights lengthening by the time his old restlessness caught up with him— not her fault or his, just the natural progression of these things. Now, their relationship had lapsed into something easy, casual. Friends, sometimes more. He still found her endlessly fascinating. It was just a matter of how many other things in this endlessly fascinating world were also competing for his attention.

At the sound of cowboy boots smacking the pavement, Kasey looked up. The thread between her fingers went slack and her blue eyes brightened the way they always did whenever she saw him coming. Marlowe could not prevent a smile in response. Blue, he’d once heard, was the true color of the sun.

He whistled a short, upwards swoop. “Kase the Ace! Right time, right place!”

She was wearing an outfit almost as egregious as his own, tie-dyed shirt in sorbet shades of pink, purple and blue with only a pair of Lycra bike shorts underneath, exposing legs pale and goosebumped. There was a face looking at him from the front of her shirt, sinister drippy eyes loaded with glamorous make-up. Kasey’s own face was bare, her fair eyelashes almost invisible. Her earrings were a pair of mismatched plastic dinosaurs— one a red triceratops, one green T-Rex. Marlowe watched with visible amusement as she struggled to untangle the knots around her fingers. 

“Jeez, I used to be so good at these! I once taught all the girls at my summer camp how to do a ten-step cradle and I was like, their guru.” 

Eventually the two of them set off for the trees that hemmed the edges of campus. He briefed her about the reason for today’s outing—  a hunt for materials, looking for found objects not yet found—  but knew it wasn’t necessary, because Kasey could always be counted on to show up when he invited her. She was always happy to tag along, if only he asked. The quad they passed looked soggy and matted down in parts, the streaming sunlight revealing all the bald patches of mud and first sprigs of dandelion shoots. Marlowe kept his gaze ahead, away from that wide expanse of grass, letting Kasey’s idle chatter filter pleasantly through one ear and out the other. His gait was lopey but brisk, hers uneven as she skipped ahead, long blonde hair streaming behind her like a scarf thrown to the wind. 

“So what are we looking for today?”

Marlowe angled his face up to the sky, watching a bird disappear into a cloudbank. “Y’know, the usual. Hidden treasure, lost artifacts. Ancient ruins. Maybe a secret Amazon warehouse deep in the woods, that’d be useful. Could steal a lifetime supply of bubble wrap.” Rarely did he embark on such expeditions with a specific item in mind; mostly he just wandered around, expecting unusual things to find him and reveal their significance. Maybe it’d be a loop of blue ribbon, snagged on a wire fence. Or a child’s plastic bucket abandoned by the side of the road, handle broken, too lost to find its way back to the nearest sandbox. He searched for these banal objects that existed somewhere between tenderness and neglect— overlooked by so many who passed them by without any idea what they might’ve been before, what they could be next.

Kasey had begun walking backwards. There was a white patch of vitiligo on her forehead. Combined with her skipping and prancing, she often reminded him of a painted palomino. “I brought granola bars! They’re a little stale, you’ll have to use your back teeth.”

Marlowe flashed her two-thirds of a grin, revealing teeth that were good and strong, if a little crooked. “What if I told you I don’t have any? Will you mash them into a pulp and spit ‘em in my mouth?” He mimed the open-mouthed, head-back position of a hungry fledgling.

Kasey made a retching sound, dissolving into a giggle.

Soon they were stepping off the paved campus sidewalk and crossing the marshy grass towards the surrounding woods. The trees were sparse, still just skinny bodies stripped in the cold, but slowly the forest became denser the deeper they went; thick-trunked oaks and dark beeches grew here, close together, their twigs sprouting tiny green buds and unfurling fists of leaves. Branches criss-crossed the sky. Marlowe led the way through the corridor between trunks, but Kasey immediately began crashing through the skeletal undergrowth off to the side. 

“How about this?” Marlowe looked to where she’d hiked her leg up onto a large boulder like a big-game hunter posing with a kill. The stone jutted out of the ground at an odd angle, making him think of a dislocated jawbone. Kasey looked down at it, her expression deeply pensive. She tapped the toe of her sneaker. “You could like, give it a face. Glue eyes on it!”

Marlowe imagined an oversized pet rock in the likeness of Rocky Balboa, Stallone’s heavy scowl painted on. Shaking his head, he rewarded her sincere effort with an equally sincere smile. “Babe, I’m flattered that you think of me as some kind of circus strongman, but I’d need like, triple my current muscle mass to carry that.”

They found other things. An empty gallon jug, the kind used to hold water or milk, split almost in half. A tattered piece of fabric too muddied to even tell the original color. And most interestingly, a thin sheet of metal with torn edges, sharp as shrapnel. It leaned against a tree like a large canvas; the patterns of corrosion on its surface— oxidized red, blue rings of mold— made it seem less like a raw material and more like an already-finished work. Marlowe stood back with one finger resting against his chin, head tipped to the side as he appraised it like an art collector at a gallery. But in the end, he decided not to carry it either. He wasn’t up-to-date with his tetanus shots. 

They began to follow their own trail, no map or compass, forging a path through the woodsy vegetation that grew close to the ground and left long, raking scratches on arms and legs, resisting intrusion. Kasey swept back the flexible branches of saplings and peered into rotted tree hollows. Marlowe was more inclined to follow a few steps behind her, no urgency in his loose-limbed stroll. He tilted his head back and admired how the naked branches looked like slats of a broken roof letting most of the sky in. By now, the chill on his face had turned itself inside out; he grew warm, renewed in some vital way. He wanted nothing more than to walk deeper and deeper through these woods and never turn around, never retrace his steps, never go back. If he had to, he could survive out here. He’d exist just like the wild birds and foxes, on a diet of small, hard berries and foraged mushrooms. 

It was often in these moments of complete distraction that discoveries happened. The trees stood back. A secret flagged him down from behind them, kept until today, confessed now in this partial glimpse. “Hey, I think I got somethin’,” he said out loud. He didn’t look to see if Kasey heard or noticed. Eyes fixed on the gap between trunks, Marlowe forced his way through a thicket of mulberries to get to the other side. 

In the clearing, there was a statue of a little girl. One arm outstretched, sunlight on the crown of her head. Her empty eyes grazed the sky. Some kind of moss crawled up her legs, giving her the appearance of wearing knee socks. There was a dog at her feet— a terrier with perked ears. 

“What did you find!” called Kasey, still wrestling her way through the brambles. The sound of snapping twigs and a soft ow! told him she was making slow progress of it.

“Something,” Marlowe replied. Unusual, he added only to himself. “Some kind of statue.”

The pose of the statue, he thought, must’ve been intended to look like the girl had just thrown a stick in a game of fetch, but there was something about the frozen gesture that told a different story. It was an open grasp, fingers straining; he almost turned around to see what she was reaching for.

“Woah.” Kasey exhaled the word in a single breath. She had finally spilled out into the clearing behind him, looking disheveled but no less enthused, tugging one checkered sock up around her ankle. “Who’s that?”

Marlowe was already crouched. He brushed dirt off the foot of the statue but there was no inscription; if there’d ever been one, time had worn it away. Now she was as nameless as the trees around her. Standing up, he slid hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked backwards, giving the girl the same look he’d given that piece of rusted sheet metal: eyes slant with a certain sharp curiosity, their color like a jar of dark honey with sunshine in it. “Don’t know. Maybe a memorial or something. Or,” He began to pace around the statue, boots leaving sunken footsteps in the loam. When his phone buzzed in his back pocket, he reached for it absently. “Maybe she got turned to stone by some wicked Baba Yaga ‘round these parts. Her, and her little dog, too.”

It was hard to read anything through the disaster of the cracked screen. His eyes scanned Syd’s incoming messages and when he got to the last two, Marlowe stopped walking. His heart stalled.

SYD: also ?? im at the studio and haven't seen my sculpture anywhere SYD: r u sure you dropped it off?

Of course she had noticed by now; of course she was looking for it.

“Who’re you texting?” Marlowe raised his eyes to find Kasey observing the standstill he’d come to; she was leaning down to give the little stone dog a scratch under his chin. “Syd,” he answered, simultaneously dropping his eyes back to his phone. “She named her cat Martin. I’m expressing my deep, deep disappointment with her lack of imagination.” I did, at the gallery, he texted back. forgot 2 text you but the eagle safely landed. 

The thing about lying was that it came so easily, so naturally, he usually felt no guilt doing it.

“Tell her I say hi!” Losing interest in the statue, Kasey had found a divining rod. She was sweeping it back and forth now with brisk efficiency, like a metal detector. “How ‘bout this? Look, it’s almost perfectly symmetrical,” she asked. 

Message sent, Marlowe let his hand drop back to his side. He used his laugh to distract them both. “Does that thing have a crude oil setting? Fuck making art, let’s start fracking. I’d rather be a Texas millionaire.” Kasey whipped around, face lit by a wide, genuine smile; but as another text from Syd arrived, his own smile barely skimmed the surface of his face, too distracted to really stick. He typed back another answer. 

i'm sure it's just misplaced syd don't sweat

worst comes to worst, we can case the frats and make sure no one stole it to be their new beer pong deity or whtever the fuck those guys do

Like any good liar, he prided himself on being truthful most of the time— which made it that much easier for a lie to slip through, unsuspected. A wolf in honesty’s clothing. No less convincing than everything else he said. And wasn’t it a little bit of a favor, in this case? Better that Syd think some hulking frat brothers had stolen into the art studio under the cover of night and carried off her sculpture for a ritual sacrifice, some dark summoning to help the university through its football championships. Better that than the truth. 

Marlowe glanced over his shoulder in the same direction as the statue’s outstretched fingertips. Clouds worked across the sky, ragged and white, and behind them there was only blue, but now he felt like he could see what wasn’t there; a new, bad darkness, descending fast out of the western sky. Like those sudden thunderstorms in Virginia that rolled over the mountains, pouring like smoke over the lip of a bowl. The knowledge of the storm’s inevitable arrival sank low in his chest: present, but not yet fully understood. 

Even if she asked him in person, he’d deny it. He’d lie again. He’d help her look for a sculpture that he knew was already unsalvageable, dissolving with each cold rain that swept over the campus, turning to paste beneath the soil.

“Hey, c’mere.” Eager for distraction, Marlowe lowered himself down to the base of the statue, where there was deep cold beneath the velvety moss. Obediently, Kasey trudged closer, still holding the forked branch; when he pulled her down, she fell giggling and side-saddle across his lap. She circled his neck with her arms. He wrapped his own loosely around her waist.

“Would you ever hate me if I did something, like, really bad?”

Kasey pulled back to look at him, the wrinkle in her brow implying that she didn’t understand. “Like what?” 

Marlowe shrugged beneath the weight of her arms. “I don’t know, I don’t have an example. But like… bad. Something that really hurt you.”

Thoughtfully, she thumbed the silver hoop in his ear. The light was full on her face— she wore no make-up, and her lips were chapped. She must’ve been chewing them before, because he could see the faint bitemarks. His heart twinged, suddenly protective.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.” Her expression went away for a moment. There was a soft vacancy in her eyes that he’d gotten used to in their time together. When she returned, the look she gave him was earnestly sweet. Whatever the imaginary hurt, she was looking at him like she’d already forgiven him for it. “Because I’d know you didn’t mean to.”

Because you wouldn’t mean it, Syd had said close to his ear that one night at Splatterhouse. He did things without thinking. Did them so often, it had become his defining trait. Marlowe knew he escaped accountability because of it; he was one of those people the world tended to forgive too easily, meaning he’d always be protected from himself, sheltered from the consequences of his actions, because there was no real intention to hurt behind them— and that alone absolved him. You couldn’t blame the tornado that destroyed your home, not when it was only doing what tornados did.

Marlowe kissed the stain on her forehead, where the skin was pinkish like a newborn’s. He kissed her between the eyebrows, then lower, just underneath the chin, on the pulse that beat like a hummingbird’s heart. Kasey pulled away to look at him again. Her hands had strayed to the back of his neck, toying with the hair curling up at the nape.

“Ew, Marlowe, in front of a little girl?” Her big eyes lifted up towards the statue. The shadow of that reaching arm fell over them both. 

“It’s spring,” he replied in a what-can-you-do tone, though it was still only the end of winter. It was only March. His eyes met hers, glinting with uncivilized suggestion. There was a faint smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. “And y’know, considering how long she’s been here, she’s ancient. A withered old crone, hundreds of years old. If anything it’s weirder to have a dead dog watching us.”

She frowned. “Why’s the dog dead?”

“Dogs don’t live for hundreds of years.”

She pouted at it. Poor thing. It didn’t seem to occur to her that humans didn’t live for hundreds of years either. Then she leaned back in, meeting him in his daring with another kiss, hands twining into hair, one bare leg swinging over to straddle him. And all around there was the sound of unseen birds, calling to each other from the trees: mimicking, teasing, pleading. A riotous awakening of spring. The next text from Syd would go unread for several hours, left without an answer. The Burger King meal she’d promised him would be forgotten. And the encroaching darkness would also recede, withdrawing to the far-back reaches of his mind— for now, the coming storm was only a dim, gauzey threat on the horizon, rumbling with the promise of distant thunder.

The house designed by Manuel García Asociados is located at the base floor floor within the complex of the REAL CLUB DE GOLF DE CAMPOAMOR. It is completely stick to the golf greens, enjoying unbelievable view. This project consists of the partial refurbishment of the apartment, playing almost exclusively with the ex-professed design of different carpentry elements, as well as the re-furnishing of different pieces of furniture and lighting. The result is a neutral and peaceful house, in which the white with its different textures, coexists as a protagonist with the warmth of the wood. Photography: Miguel Ángel Cabrera.

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DINING ROOM The dining room was configurated as the heart of the house, the favourite meeting place to enjoy the desktop which occupies the central and most open space of the house. It consists of a simple and large corner bench that also offers lower storage. The bench is supported on the one side in a lattice that hides different heating and climate installations. In the other side, there is a large floor-to-ceiling storage module that represents the day area. Its design, with different types of doors and openings, responds to the internal use of each module. In addition, two black oak slats emphasize the game of planes and the asymmetry of its composition. The square table, also designed by studio MGA, has been made with the same bleached oak as the storage module and plays with a superposition of solid planes that configure its volume. In line with the rest of the elements.

KITCHEN It is made with the same materials as are present in the rest of the house, subtly integrating into it. As a counterpoint, the existing black ceramic floor has been maintained in alignment with the new distribution. From this point, the storage made with a white lattice becomes an area of natural oak columns that also hides the exit to the laundry. The countertop, frontally is topped by a breakfast bar also aligned to the material change between floors. From the breakfast area it continues to the work area which is arranged in a U-shape facilitating usability and travel within this space. The walls are completely covered with the same material as the countertop, Dekton Zenith in white. In addition, thanks to the almost non-existence of joints and the integration of all installations, completely smooth surfaces facilitate its functionality and cleaning.

LIVING ROOOM This area is the most adjusted in dimensions, but also the one with the best natural light thanks to the magnificent outdoor terrace. In the front of it there is a simple sofa with a chaise longue upholstered in broken white colour. In the front of him we found the television area. This one has hung of a wall that is totally panelled in natural oak, emphasizing the warmth of this corner. Below we find a container furniture made of black stained oak that hides all multimedia equipment. Bordering this wall, there is a panelling made of white stained oak that integrates, almost invisibly, the access door to the master bedroom. Next to it, a new latticework made at medium height and concealed by another radiator, is topped by two perpendicular black slats. That gives this element a certain neoplasticist air similar to Mondrian’s paintings.

BEDROOMS The master bedroom has been designed as a continuity of the rest of the house. The carpentry separating elements are made again in white stained oak. On the other hand, the headboard of the bed has been finished in natural oak and integrates two “flying” tables and the backlight that bathes the wallpaper which is used to cover the top of the wall behind the bed. The selected bed sheets continue with the set of different grey tones. The kid´s bedroom makes greater use of the white colour which gives peace to its small inhabitants and serve as a perfect playground for their games.

Location: Campoamor Floor area: 90 m2 Year of realization: 2019 Interior design: Manuel García Asociados

Apartment near the golf course by Manuel García Asociados The house designed by Manuel García Asociados is located at the base floor floor within the complex of the REAL CLUB DE GOLF DE CAMPOAMOR.

The 9 Best End Table Dog Crates & Furniture-Style Kennels

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Top Pick: Crown Pet Products Wood End Table Dog Crate

Made from sustainable rubberwood, this end table dog kennel by Crown Pet Products is good for the environment, your dog, and your wallet.

Plus, it’s available in both Espresso and Mahogany!

Check Price

I love sharing my home with my dogs.

However, I have always tried to keep my house looking like the dogs haven’t completely taken it over.

Sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I fail.

There have been numerous occasions over the years that I have had to set up a crate in the house, and quite honestly, I hate the look of them.

Usually, I will use a crate cover to soften the appearance, but at the end of the day, we still have a giant wire box sitting in our room. 

My dogs love resting in crates; it’s their safe place[1].

So, when I take down the unneeded kennel, my dogs are generally disappointed.

My solution to the problem was to invest in three end table crates. Though this was a fair investment, it met my needs of being functional and looking good.

Most people don’t even realize the tables are crates until they look closer at them. 

Because my dogs have free run of the house, we took the doors off of two of the crates.

We left one door on for Ginger as she has some behavioral issues that require her to take some time to self soothe, but that’s a long story for a different article.

Also, if you are wondering why I have a gate across the staircase rungs, it’s because Sophie likes to eat cat food and is wonderfully tenacious about getting what she wants.

I know it detracts from the décor, but as I said earlier, sometimes I fail.

What are End Table Dog Crates?

The best invention in the dog crate world!

Simply put, they are dog crates that are also functional furniture.

They make having a dog crate in any living space far more bearable and aesthetically pleasing. 

There is a fair variety of furniture-style dog crates to choose from, ranging in style, size, and color.

Dog crate furniture can be an investment, but when you combine the costs of an end table and crate, it’s usually the better deal.

Why You Should Buy an End Table Dog Crate

Furniture style dog crates are the perfect solution for having a dog crate and retaining the décor of any room.

I recommend this style table to all my friends and family that crate their dogs.

They blend well into any home and meet the needs of the dogs.

They say (please don’t ask me who they are) a picture is worth a thousand words. Below is visual proof of why you should buy an end table crate:

Unfortunately, we do have the big wire crate set up in the living room.

It is far more bearable than the X-Pen we had up before.

We are currently using this wire crate as a temporary training tool for Miss Ginger (I can’t wait to tear it down and put my end table crate back in its place!).

Looking for a soft-sided crate for temporary or travel use? Click here for the best!

What to Look for when Buying a Furniture Style Dog Crate

Like with all buying situations, different factors need to be taken into consideration.

For the end table crate, here’s a pretty comprehensive list to ponder:

Color/Style

There is a multitude of colors and styles to choose from.

Since you’re making this investment, you will want to find one that matches your room perfectly.

Material

These crates come in a variety of materials from different wood types to recycled polymers

You want to choose one that will both match your interior decorating preferences as well as the wear and tear from your dog.

Ease of Use

Depending on the space you plan on putting the crate, you will want to be sure the door is oriented to open easily.

Some crates have multiple entrances.

Size

This comes down to two factors: the size of your dog and the size of the space.

Be sure to consider height when looking for a crate as you don’t want it to sit too high or low.

Another item of note is there are two sets of measurements: One set is for the inside of the crate, and the other is for the overall table size.

For example, my crate has a 4-inch difference in the length and depth of the crate interior versus table exterior.

Sturdiness

The sturdiness of a crate is vital.

You don’t want the table collapsing on your dog, and you don’t want a flimsy crate your dog can easily escape.

As much as I love furniture crates, the reality is if you have a dog with separation anxiety or barrier anxiety, these crates won’t hold up against a dog that desperately wants out.

Price

These furniture style crates range in price from a little under $100 to over $1000!

The price usually depends on the material and size of the crate.

The Best Furniture-Style Dog Crates

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ModelMaterialColorsRatingPrice Crown Pet Products Wood End Table Dog CrateSustainable RubberwoodEspresso, Mahogany4.5$$$ Check Price Casual Home Dog Crate End TableSustainable WoodBlack, Espresso, Taupe, White4.0$$ Check Price Omlet Fido Studio Luxury Dog Crate with WardrobeWood and WireWalnutN/A$$$ Check Price Boomer and George Wooden Dog Crate End TableEngineered Wood & MetalEspresso3.9$$$ Check Price Zoovilla Dog Crate End TableMDFBlack, White3.6$$ Check Price Polar Bear's Pet Shop Double Door Extra Large CrateWood & MDFEspressoN/A$$$ Check Price Pinnacle Woodcraft Amish Dog Crate Entertainment CenterMaple & OakNatural or Stained4.7$$$$ Check Price Merry Products Dog Crate and TableWood VeneerBlack, White4.0$$$ Check Price Southern Crafted Furniture Custom Indoor KennelWalnut & MetalCustomN/A$$$$$ Check Price

Top Pick

Crown Pet Products Wood End Table Dog Crate

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

The overall style of Crown Pet Products’ Wood End Table Dog Crate is nonintrusive and would easily match most homes’ décor.

The Crown Pet Table is a solid wood crate that comes in two colors and two sizes. 

Also, the door to the crate can swing in or out, making it easy to keep the door out of the way when not being used.

Another excellent feature on this crate is the base

It is made of waterproof melamine, making it a breeze to clean in the case of an accident.

The overall crate allows for excellent airflow, to better keep your pup comfortable.

Pros

Made from rubberwood, a hardwood from rubber plantations[2]

Waterproof floor

Swing through door

Cons

Only comes in two sizes

Only comes in two colors

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Budget Pick

Casual Home Dog Crate End Table

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

What first caught my eye was the conservative style of Casual Home’s Dog Crate End Table.

This mission-style crate would fit in with a variety of interior decorating styles. 

The second thing I noticed was that this crate comes in five different sizes and four different colors.

The smallest crate will fit dogs under 25 pounds, and the largest can hold dogs up to 90 pounds.

The color options available vary on crate sizes.

Pros

Open slats on all four sides, allowing for sufficient airflow to keep your pup comfortable

Made from sustainably-sourced solid wood 

Moderately priced

Cons

It is not made for chewers, so if your dog chews on wood or their crate, this will not be the right choice

It is not scratch-resistant

Check Price

Read Reviews

Upgrade Pick

Omlet Fido Studio Luxury Dog Crate with Wardrobe

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Why It’s the Best Choice

Omlet’s Fido Studio crate comes in a walnut color, giving any room a warmer feel.

What makes this crate unique is that it comes with a wardrobe to keep all of your pup’s stuff neatly tucked away.

The crate features two doors allowing for easier access to get your dog in and out.

While the wires aren’t disguised, this crate may be a better choice for dogs who like to chew on their crate.

Pros

Multiple entries

Wardrobe 

Easy wipe down finish

Cons

It isn’t made from solid wood

The wire sides don’t disguise the overall appearance

Limited sizes

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best End Table Crate for Small Dogs

Boomer and George Wooden Dog Crate End Table

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

The Boomer and George crate has a dark espresso finish and metal accents, giving the crate a luxurious look.

The overall design would fit great in most homes and would easily tuck in nicely next to a sofa.

The metal bars give it a sturdier feel, and though it’s far from indestructible, it would hold up well against mild chewers.

The crate sits well off the floor, allowing airflow around the entire crate, ensuring the greatest amount of comfort for your dog. 

The wood veneer makes it easy to wipe down and keep clean.

Pros

Unique design

Well vented for natural airflow

Easy wipe down finish

Cons

Made from wood veneer

Limited size and color

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best End Table Crate for Medium Dogs

Click the image for more info

 Zoovilla Dog Crate End Table

Why It’s the Best Choice

The Zoovilla dog kennel is a nicely sized medium crate.

It has a beautiful design that is aesthetically pleasing and easy to fit in any home.

This crate has a couple of unique features:

First is that this is a multi-door crate; it opens from the end and the side.

The second feature is the removable tray to make cleaning a lot easier.

This crate comes in multiple sizes and colors.

Unlike many of the crate end tables, this one comes in white or black instead of natural wood.

Pros

Stylish design

Multiple entries

Removable bottom tray

Cons

Made from MDF, which has certain disadvantages compared with solid wood[3]

The latch is not as sturdy as other models

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Read Reviews

Best End Table Crate for Big Dogs

Polar Bear’s Pet Shop Double Door Extra Large Crate

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Why It’s the Best Choice

This espresso colored crate by Polar Bear’s Pet Shop is quite spacious and would comfortably fit most large dogs.

This crate is solid wood and features a double door front to allow even the chonkiest doggers to get into the crate.

The wide-set slats allow for airflow and light to keep the crate cozy.

Pros

Double door front

Exceptionally wide and deep

Classic rich design

Cons

Only available in one color

Not sturdy enough to use for crate training

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best Nightstand Dog Crate

Pinnacle Woodcraft Amish Dog Crate Entertainment Center

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

The Amish dog crate entertainment center by Pinnacle Woodcraft is perfect for any bedroom.

It stands slightly taller than most crates.

This nightstand is solidly built from hardwood.

Additionally, this crate has the option of a flip-up top allowing for a storage area under the tabletop.

Pros

Can be customized

Chew and scratch-resistant

Multiple color options

Solid wood

Cons

Only one size

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best Coffee Table Dog Crate

Merry Products Dog Crate and Table

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

Though the Merry Products dog crate would make a slightly taller than classic coffee table, it would still easily work.

It has a slide away door, so it won’t be in the way when the door is open.

This table comes in two different colors and has a classic clean line style, allowing it to blend well in most rooms.

Pros

Slide away door

Moderately priced

The tabletop crate can hold up to 300 lbs

Durable

Cons

Made with solid wood veneer

Comes in only one size

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best Multi-Dog Crate

Southern Crafted Furniture Custom Indoor Kennel

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

This rustic handmade crate can also double as a side or sofa table.

Southern Crafted Furniture’s indoor kennel is custom made and can hold two medium-sized dogs. 

There is an option to have a divider in the middle to keep your pups separate, or it can be left open so they can mingle.

Pros

Handmade pine crate side table

Can be customized in size and color

Allows for multiple dogs

Durable

Cons

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Conclusion

If you are ready to ditch the metal or plastic crate for something more useful and aesthetically pleasing, then choosing a furniture style crate is your best bet.

Just because you share your home with dogs doesn’t mean you have to live in a dog house.

The dog crate furniture is an excellent compromise between pleasant décor and functionality.

I have had my crate end tables for a few years; they have held up magnificently and work perfectly.

I love the way these crates look and blend into the main room. My dogs love them and spend hours snoozing away in their crates.

In truth, the only thing negative I can say about these is that they are not made as durable as traditional crates, so wouldn’t be the best choice for dogs who are not fully crate trained.

 Resources

https://sarahwilsondogexpert.com/creating-safe-place/

https://www.wood-database.com/rubberwood/

https://www.paradeofhomes.org/blog/mdf-solid-wood-furniture-advantages-disadvantages/

The post The 9 Best End Table Dog Crates & Furniture-Style Kennels appeared first on Central Park Paws.

from https://www.centralparkpaws.net/dog-crates/best-end-table-dog-crates/

Fargo's Museum Ranch: Chapter 4

Visually, the ranch was pristine but weathered, much like Fargo. They both have withstood storms, and it showed. The twisting winds are brutal coming off the nearby Chiricahua Mountains. At one moment you see a sand storm in the distance, swirling tornados, ejecting white plumes high in the air. Then in seconds, the swirl overtakes you. There is no light. It is like someone ripped the sun from the sky and you are being blasted and tossed by sand at 40 to 60 mph. You are blinded. Becky and I have experienced such a storm driving our bus on I-10 in the New Mexican desert. The most terrifying 30 seconds of my life.

But the Museum Ranch stands as it has for decades, everything in its place choreographed by a master set director. There are a dozen or so sheltered gathering spaces (sitting areas) around the ranch. Each unique and all displaying memorabilia and photos of movie stars with their arms draped on the shoulder of a younger Fargo. These gathering spots are in the corner of barns, under carriage sheds, by fire pits, attached to a hen house or upstairs over a storage shed. In each one, there are places and porches to sit and talk. Some have a few chairs and benches, while others have a few metal milk crates turned on end, or maybe a log for us to straddle. But most notably, in every space there was a single armed chair with a padded seat were Fargo would hold court to a captive audience of us.

There was always music playing in the background. Radio set to a Mexican station or a phonograph player softly emitting vocals of Patsy Cline, Hank Snow, Rex Allen, and Ernest Tubb. Signature cowboy songs. A perfect underscore to match our cinematic imaginations, while Fargo told stories of the old west.

While Becky and Fargo were chatting, I was admiring a Stetson hat and removed it from a hook on a post. Barton was quick to tell me that I should "replace it like I found it" because if it were 1/8 inch off, or rehung askew Fargo would notice.

Fargo and his ranch hands each had a few trucks. Quattro even had a Cadillac. But all vehicles were stashed behind a grove of mesquite or under the back side of a shed, not distracting from the perception that we were back in the late 1800's. An electric golf cart was the only hardware that belied the visual genera. Fargo needed it's assistance to get around and check on things. He would fatigue quickly and often pulled out an inhaler from his jeans to allay coughing and breathlessness. But at 89, he was still leaner and keener than most of our friends just reaching retirement age.

We climbed aboard the electric cart and set out to see the ranch. He rode us to where stagecoaches and chuck wagons were stored. The one carriage with a large frame, Jonny Cash liked best. Quartto pointed out the chuck wagon used by Lee Marvin and Brian Keith in The Quest and Monty Walsh. There was the stagecoach Maureen O'Hare while swishing her petticoats climbed in and rode off, in Big Jake. He pointed out items used in McClintock, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, wagons from the Little House pilot, saddles and spurs from Three Amigos and yokes and harnesses that accompanied the mule teams in Bonanza. Most, he said, he had sold or left back in Old Tuscon where we visited last year. But he still had an amazing collection of important antiquities from the silver screen.

He called our attention to an old blacksmith's anvil. "That thing weighs 350 pounds," he said with half grin half grimace. "You know how I know?" To which I gave a shrug. "Arnold Schwarzenegger picked the damn thing up and told me," Fargo grinned, adding emphasis by raising his eyebrows up and down three or four times making his hat bob on his head.

Homing pigeons moved in and out of their roosts. Fargo explained how intelligent they were and their dependable characteristics. He supplied Old Tuscon with birds for many movies. So if you are watching an old John Ford western and you see birds a flight, they were probably trained by our friend Fargo to fly on cue.

Once he was commissioned to provide deer for a scene of the animals running through prairie. The scene was to be shot from above from a helicopter. However, the producers were prohibited from herding or using live game in a shoot. So Ole' Fargo rigged antlers on his goats, placed them at one end of a canyon and put Barton at the other end of the canyon with the pappa goat to call the "deer herd." The helicopter lifted off and the scene was captured in one take.

We headed down a fence line on the safe side of longhorn steer and bulls to a wood-hewn building with a cross on the front. Quattro hobbled in with us as we entered the chapel.

At the front, centered between two wood beams was a large print of the last supper, the one depicting the servant in the foreground. On the right was a pulpit draped in a colorful sarape blanket with two wooden slats tied in a cross on the front. Behind the pulpit was a statue of The Madonna and another cross above it. On the walls were Indian ceremonial feathers and bells, a menorah, a yarmulke, and plastic flower arrangements. Beside the pulpit was a photo of Mother Teresa and The Pope.

On the left side of the chapel was a firebrick altar with a leaded glass backdrop. A brass cross leaned against a wood mantle and two tin cups dangled below. Fargo retrieved a now extinct, Blue Diamond self-striking match from a Ball Jar, scratched it across the brick, and began lighting several candles. I was about to cross myself or genuflect when Fargo broke my reverence and uttered, "Yeah, I've got all kinds of religious shit in here. I've got Protestant shit, Catholic shit, Jewish shit, Indian shit, and we've even had a few weddings. Quattro there's a minister, and he officiates," gesturing to Quattro who was now standing behind the podium gripping both sides firmly.

Quattro, the minister, told us a little of his story while standing behind the pulpit. He had originated in Pensylvania and came out to Arizona to visit his brother at UofA in Tucson. He met Fargo on set at Old Tucson, fell in love with the west and never went back. He helped Fargo with the animals, worked as a bronc rider and stuntman, and fit into the movie business as Fargo's sidekick.

After blowing out the candles on the altar, we left the church and headed down the lane, opening and closing gates behind us. We drove onto open range where fifty miles of sagebrush, tumbleweed, and sand lay in front of the jagged Chiricahua mountains where we hiked just days before. We arrived at a clump of mesquite trees that shaded seven grave sites. We sat on benches and listened as Fargo told us stories about each ranch hand who was buried there. His words were kind with a deep appreciation for their service.

We carted back to the coffee pot area. It was 2 pm. Fargo moved his chair from in front of the padlocked door and opened it. The door swung inward to reveal a saloon right out of the movies. Four stools, a swinging door, and a bar lined with bottles of whiskey, bourbon, and tequila in front of mirrored glass. Hanging behind the bar were cowboy hats, Indian headress, scores of photographs, lanterns, spurs, feathers, beads and oh yes, an Indian scalp. I wasn't too surprised when he pointed out the spur marks in the oak bar top.

We looked through his stacks of 12-inch long-play records. An impressive collection. Becky chose Hank Snow and we enjoyed a few cold ones while Fargo told more stories of movies and the stars he knew.

We had spent the entire day with three of the most interesting men I've ever met. We learned more about animals, birds, Indians, history and movies, than I had in a lifetime. But this was just the first day of three. The next day we were to bring our forty-foot Allegro Bus (our Home On Wheels) and park right in the middle of The Museum Ranch, 12 miles and a hundred years from town.

Bi Apartment by Francesc Rifé

Visual silence defines this new dwelling in Barcelona. A few whispers, such as the irregular rhythm of the oak wood slats and intended details, bring a singular narrative to the whole project.

Balancing lines aim to wrap the residents in an intimate and warm environment, while the use of white creates a simple and calm atmosphere. Precisely, to favour the place’s calmness, most of the container elements and shelves are located close to the ground, focusing attention on the lowest part of the house. In this way, the walls are transparent and undecorated, with only natural light bathing their surfaces daily.

The Bulthaup kitchen, open to the dining and living room, shares the straightforward and clean narrative of the rest of the project, while the application of some of its surfaces in Calacatta white marble makes it more sophisticated and gains personality. The entire space is accompanied by white linen curtains that soften the light and define the border between the intimate interior and a more exposed exterior.

All the rooms have direct access to a U-shaped terrace where a large metal pergola has been installed in an anthracite gray finish, which seeks to provide shade. Next to this structure is the swimming pool and a volume of built-in natural stone that integrates the Jacuzzi and a seating area. The exterior space is completed with a bar counter, a large table, and a support piece of furniture that incorporates the barbecue. Vegetation embraces the project, orienting the views, and consciously isolating them from the urban environment.

All images by Javier Márquez Courtesy of Francesc Rifé Studio

20 Galaxies: Legend in the Sky Chapter 7

Breckenridge was a few miles from Quarterhill's main tourist strip, and the Breckenridge girls rarely visited. The house mothers preferred museums and historical landmarks over the gaudy glory of Main Street. Ru's mother used to take Colleen to Main Street every once in a while. Colleen remembered the haunted houses the most, though they never scared her. She admired the props and wondered how much time it took to build them.

Main Street wasn't anything special, Ru said. Just ice cream shops and haunted houses and five different T-shirt stores all selling the same ten designs. Colleen silently argued she'd take an ice cream shop any day over Breckenridge. For once, she thought most of her housemates would agree.

Breckenridge itself was an attraction, though it didn't get as much traffic as Main Street or Tanager Park. It was a historical site with very limited tours. Most people saw the house only from the street. A stark iron-spear fence lined the property, taller than any person Colleen had met. The gate was wide, made of a labyrinth of flat, uneven curls. Mother Fontaine told Colleen it was designed with the leaves of a tree in mind. Colleen thought of it more as the inner workings of a lock.

She wished Mother Fontaine was still there. Most of the girls knew her as Laura; she had been the only house mother who let the girls call her by her first name. She was also the only one who ever tried to talk to Colleen without giving up. Mother Fontaine had bought Colleen her first paint set. The two of them spoke more often in pictures than in words.

Colleen shoved the memory away. Tears threatened when she thought too long of Mother Fontaine. Proper young ladies hold themselves with dignity, Mother Kendrick said. They don't blubber or whine.

The Breckenridge manor seemed miles away from the bottom of the hill, surrounded by towering oaks and maples. A few willows dragged their branches along the edges of a small pond. The manor was as wide as the high school gym, with lavender walls and navy shutters, the tall windows barred with white slats. Crew cut hedges and rosebushes wreathed the house. The porch had a railing like a ribbon of white lace, and a neat row of wicker chairs, all of which stood abandoned at the moment. Neatly abandoned. Proper young ladies do not leave their chairs facing every which way, Mother Kendrick said. The rest of the house had the same symmetry to it, as if Mother Kendrick had spoken to it personally.

Mother Grace herded the girls through the gate. She was a tall and narrow woman, whose physical presence was about as scant as her mental one. Colleen could have easily mistaken her for a figure on TV rather than someone actually standing next to her. Under her eyes the girls wandered about the property and lingered on the porch before her plaintive instructions finally nudged them all through the door. Colleen was last. Her feet crunched slowly on the glittering gravel path, her eyes dragged over the ants climbing through the porch boards, on the coral roses bobbling in the breeze. Sunlight grazed the stained glass on the front door and cast a wheel of color on the floor.

Mother Grace disappeared as soon as the group was in the entry hall. Colleen looked everywhere but at the other girls, at the marble floor, velvet furniture, the chandelier with crystals like melting icicles. Most of all, the stairs to the second floor. Until Mother Kendrick came to take roll, Colleen would have to hide, then make her escape to the stairs. Once she reached her room, she would be safe. Mostly.

"Aww, look who made it home. And all by herself, too."

Too late.

Ronnie Kale leaned in the doorway to the south wing, where only the house mothers were allowed. She was careful not to speak loud enough for her voice to carry to the next room. Colleen knew better than to acknowledge her, but there was nowhere else to go. The other girls were watching now, most with scorn, a few with pity.

Ronnie stepped in front of Colleen, her brown curls bouncing. She had a small face with huge eyes that made her look half her age, the perfect front for her snide, sharp tongue. Only Mother Kendrick seemed aware of Ronnie's true nature. "What'd you learn in school today? Numbers, or letters?"

Mutters fluttered in Colleen's ear. It was her own fault, bringing their attention on her with those supposed nightmares. Or maybe she really was scared of the dark. Maybe if she didn't have to have a room to herself, she wouldn't be such a crybaby. The whispers of those who believed Colleen's nightmares were worse. What if she dreams about me? What if she dreams about the house burning down? Don't let her see me.

"Hi, Colleen!"

She turned, surprised by a new voice. Misty was now in full Breckenridge uniform. She looked strange in it, like she was too tall for it and at the same time too thin. It draped off her like it would on a hanger. "I saw you have a Carmody."

Something shined in Misty's hand. In the many lights of the chandelier, the object seemed to gleam on its own. "I collect them. Maybe we can trade."

The room fell silent. Dozens of eyes locked on Misty.

"It's not a Carmody," Colleen said, voice tremulous. She brushed the tail of the dolphin with her fingertip. "My mother bought it for me when I was a baby."

"You still are a baby," Ronnie said.

That, on top of Misty's perplexed and disappointed look, sent Colleen scurrying for the nearest corner with tears brimming in her eyes. The only thing that kept the tears from falling was the peculiar expression that wiped out all emotion on Misty's face. Misty's pale eyes went unfocused, her lips open, as if she was on the verge of speaking, but to no one.

Ronnie put on her sweetest smile and put a hand on Misty's shoulder. Colleen was fairly certain that Ronnie was warning Misty not to make friends.

Misty's face froze over. She slapped Ronnie's hand away. Ronnie scowled, but then Misty replied.

Colleen didn't hear what was said, but all the girls in earshot flinched. Ronnie actually recoiled, wincing, as if she'd been slapped in the face instead of the hand. Colleen had never seen Ronnie afraid. Colleen liked it a lot less than she assumed she would.

Her stomach fluttered with Misty's eyes found her again. Misty had the same calculating expression Ru had when working on a tough math problem. Not malicious, but without empathy, either. By experience, Ronnie would have Misty seeing straight in a week. Ronnie was in charge of the house mothers, Quarterhill students were ignorant slobs, and the only one worse was Colleen Amundsen. Ronnie was at the other end of the room now. Contempt laced her voice, but her hands trembled. It did seem awfully cold in the hall.

Once the house mothers took attendance, Colleen sprinted for her room. Well, as close as she could to a sprint without being scolded about her manners, which was little more than a stiff, brisk walk. She hurried past the sunburn-pink walls and fluff-filled rooms without looking twice. Her room had not always been on the far end of the north wing. At a doctor's request, she had been moved. She had a vague, unpleasant memory of the doctor and Mother Fontaine asking questions about her nightmares, and what she remembered about her parents.

The lone room suited Colleen well. She minimized contact with her housemates anyway. Early in the morning, usually before the sun rose, she peered down the hall, looking for lights under the other doors. She went through supper at the very end of the long, lace-covered table with her eyes firmly fixed on her plate. Whether she liked or hated what was served to her, she ate as fast as she could without being upbraided for table manners. At least most of the girls ignored her there. It was hard to get away with anything under the hawk eyes of Mother Kendrick. Colleen didn't like being under her watch any more than being scrutinized by the girls her own age. She was always excused first. Whispers followed her up the stairs. There were no locks on the doors of the bedrooms; when Colleen wasn't the first upstairs, she found things missing. A picture of her parents, one of her diaries. She stopped writing those after she found Ronnie reading the entries aloud to her roommate. The only house mother who didn't act like the theft was Colleen's fault was Mother Fontaine.

For this reason, she kept the dolphin pendant around her neck at all times, even when she slept. Mother Kendrick made her take it off, afraid she'd choke to death in her sleep, but she put it back on after bed check was complete. She could not afford to lose it, especially if it turned out to be made of precious stone. It might be the only thing she had with enough worth to get her away from Quarterhill when she was old enough. Or when she escaped.

Her mind wandered from the World War I battle she was supposed to be studying. One summer night, she would pack all her things in her art supply bag. She would sneak some food away from the dinner table or kitchen, climb that tree on the west side of the property that leaned over the gate, and run as fast as she could before sunrise. Ru could lend her clothes so she wouldn't be running in her easily-recognized uniform. She brought the subject up at school once with Ru, and dropped it after her little brother overheard.

"First of all, Quarterhill's curfew is 11."

"Who says someone'll see her?" Ru shot back. "Besides, she's tall, they might think she's too old for curfew."

Jayson shrugged his sister off. "Second, there's no way you'll get out of Quarterhill before sunrise, even if it is kind of small. You might be able to hide in Tanager Park for a little while, if you don't think the Blue Star is coming to get you," he rolled his eyes, "but I bet that's the first place they'll look for you. Joe Ackerman's dad says that's where they find the most runaways."

The idea had already crumbled in Colleen's head, but Ru wasn't ready to give up. "Did Joe tell you that, or did you hear it from his dad?"

"His dad, when he was here on Career Day. A cop would know, right? Third, no one's going to buy a tourmaline necklace from a kid. They'll either think you stole it, try and find out where you came from and who your parents are, or they'll try to steal it from <i>you.</i>"

"How do you know?" Ru asked heatedly.

Jayson sighed. "Remember that time Randy broke a window on his dad's van?"

Colleen had only met Randy Fresnel a few times, and was happy for so few meetings. He seemed like a compressed spring ("That'd explain why he's so short," Ru said) ready to launch with his mouth or his fists.

Colleen's room was small and her possessions scant. A few carbon copies of her uniform hung in the closet, along with a puffy white parka and her pajamas, freshly cleaned. There was a set of plastic drawers, mostly full of things Ru's mother scavenged from the Amundsen home before everything was auctioned off. A picture of Colleen's parents and distant relatives, her great-grandfather's engineering textbook with brown pages and a crumbling leather cover, a tiny wooden pot Colleen liked to play with when she was younger, a tape of Colleen's mother playing violin. Ms. Hadley said Colleen's mother had been a songwriter, and the money that was still being made by those songs would pay for Colleen's entire stay at Breckenridge.

The room was different today. The floor had been covered by a plain yellow rug, but Colleen made a mess of it after the dream about Kelly. Her stomach still turned at the memory. At least the smell was gone, though it was replaced by the choking scent of sanitizer. All this she had expected. She was startled to find the other bed in the room occupied.

Three small, worn leather suitcases squashed the frilly comforter on the other bed. One case had its contents spewed across the bedspread, clothes, a pair of frayed, filthy sneakers, and a small makeup kit. The owner of that kit would have to learn to hide it, or it would end up in Mother Kendrick's contraband bin, never to be seen again.

"Oh, so you're my roommate?" Misty scoffed. "Good, I thought I'd end up with one of the annoying ones. Your name's Colleen, right?"

Misty resumed emptying her luggage. She handled her things in a strangely business-like manner, something Colleen would have expected from a house mother. Colleen's nerves buzzed as she sat down on her own bed. She rummaged through her bookbag, her long hair obscuring everything but the sandy carpet. She heard Misty walk to the closet and back. Metal hangers clanged softly as they were set on the bar.

"Why are the other girls afraid of you?" Misty asked suddenly.

Colleen's head jerked up. "Afraid of me?" she blurted.

"Yeah. Especially that girl, Ronnie."

"Um -- I don't think she's afraid. But I do have bad dreams sometimes. And my birthday's October 31st."

Misty gave a short, confused laugh. She had her eyes on her things, but Colleen couldn't help but feel watched. "That's it? Is 31 an unlucky number or something?"

Colleen stared in disbelief. Was Misty trying to make fun of her? "You don't know about Halloween?"

Misty flung her hands into the air. "I don't know about anything! Do you know how many times the house mothers yelled at me today? Over really petty stuff, too. Especially the old one."

"That's Mother Kendrick," Colleen said. "She's on second watch. She's here until ten every day."

"Does she let you have any fun? Or is that something 'proper young ladies' don't do, as she would say?"

Misty's voice flashed into an impersonation of Mother Kendrick's, near-perfect only ten times more cantankerous. Colleen giggled, despite her shock and nervousness that Mother Kendrick could have easily heard. Misty smirked at her. "Really, do you just study when you get home?"

"I like to draw."

Normally Colleen was hesitant about showing her works to the other girls, but Misty actually, genuinely seemed interested. She pulled out her sketchbook. The images within were mostly of outdoor scenery, different angles of the Breckenridge property with the house and birds and flowers she'd seen. Misty's face lit up as she shuffled through the pages. "These are so pretty! Could you draw me something, maybe?"

That was a common request, one Colleen usually turned down. "I could, maybe," she said quietly. "But you have to hide it from the other girls. They might rip it up."

Misty's silver eyes widened with shock. She almost seemed offended. "Why would they do that?"

Colleen's voice came out thin through a suddenly tight throat. "Ronnie did, anyway. The other girls just laugh at it. They, um - they tell me my artwork isn't any good. I'm not smart enough to make anything good. Maybe I never will be."

Misty smiled, a bright, warm smile. Colleen wondered why she assumed Misty wasn't capable of such a friendly face. "Oh come on! Don't say things like that. You're the nicest one here I've met so far, and you really do have talent. You should stand up for yourself more."

"You think I'm nice?" Colleen said. "Even after I wouldn't trade with you?"

Misty waved her hand dismissively. "I'd be mad if I found out it wasn't a Carmody, except maybe if yours is made of diamond. But then I'd just feel bad because yours is probably worth a lot more. Hey, want to see my favorite?"

She tucked her fingers into her collar and pulled on a string beneath. It must have been the thing she'd showed Colleen in the common room, a gray, silvery cloud pendant with an iridescent sparkle. Though it was easily the prettiest raincloud Colleen had seen, it was still sad. "A friend of mine back home gave it to me. It's the only one I'd never trade."

"It doesn't look like the other Carmody jewelry I've seen," Colleen said.

Misty's eyes looked beyond Colleen, her cheeks rosy. "It's not."

There was a quiet moment before Misty noticed Colleen's soft, questioning stare. Misty turned nearly as red as her hair. "Uh, anyway! Have you ever tried origami?"

Colleen let her question go unspoken. "Never heard of it."

A binder of colorful paper squares came out of Misty's suitcase. Misty chose a silver leaf, smoothed it out, and went to work on it. She folded, pressed, flipped, pulled hidden prongs from under the paper's umbrella-like folds, until a bird sprang to life out of the sharp corners and points. "It's a crane," Misty said. "You want to learn how to make one?"

A smile cracked Colleen's face. "Sure."

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Comfortable Family Home With Gentle Accents (Includes Floor Plan)

Gentle accent colours uplift this comfortable 71.2 square metre family home interior, located in Moscow, Russia. Designed by Natalia Rybakova, this modern space is warmed through with mellow green, yellow and blue infusions, alongside dominant light wood tone elements. Whilst compact in dimensions, this floor plan encompasses all of the practical necessities for a happy family life. The open concept living space brings family members together with a combined dining, cooking and lounging arrangement. Peripheral furniture is pared back to ensure the environment doesn’t feel overcrowded or complicated. Bedrooms are peaceful, and the fitted bathroom cleanly precise. Apartment floor plan included at the end of the tour.

Visualizer: Tasha Rizanova  

With the dining room and kitchen located so close to the lounge area, accent colours and textures take on increased importance in the visual division of space. Perhaps most useful in this quest is the split grey and wood tone finish across the one wall kitchen. Grey kitchen cabinets make a cool backdrop behind the dining area, whilst light oak effect cabinet fronts create a cosy background behind the lounge.

An assortment of buttery yellow and foliage green throw pillows draw the eye to the end of the sofa that’s furthest away from the dining spot, which is another effective widening and dividing technique for a compact living space. A small coffee table nestles into the crook of the L-shaped sofa here, further signalling the area’s separate role. A Tetra candle holder by Naoto Fukasawa for B&B Italia makes an curious display piece.

Lack of a TV builds a sense of peace in living room dining room combo, although a blank wall leaves opportunity for projection. With that said, focus is on reading here, with an elegant glass bookcase in one corner and a simple white floor lamp to provide reading light over the couch.

The Mekko pendant light by Market Set provides a strong visual anchor for the dining area.

Gently colourful artwork builds happy vibes without visual overwhelm.

A wood slatted ceiling treatment over the kitchen makes effective zoning.

Open shelving and two different styles of Scandinavian furniture shape a laid-back, eclectic dining room scheme.

Tiles lay down a hard wearing walkway across the kitchen, and create cohesivity with the matching tiled backsplash.

Glass tumblers, a carafe and a modern chrome kitchen tap gleam beneath a under cabinet LED strip light. See more unique faucets here.

The sleek wood slatted ceiling treatment reoccurs in the home entryway. Wood cladding warmly encases the walls. A small entryway seat slides the wood accent onto a crisp white tiled floor treatment.

Modern wardrobes store coats, with shoes slipped underneath.

In the master bedroom, wood slatted panelling is no longer utilised as a ceiling treatment but instead comes down to form a stylish headboard feature wall.

White modern wall sconces are mounted over each bedside table, and can be reangled for reading light.

A muted green comforter and soft blue throw create layers of calming colour on the platform bed.

A grey bedside drawer unit is adorned with a L’Oiseau bird figurine designed by Ronan & Erwan Bouroulle for Vitra in 2011.

The opposite bedside table offers a completely different and contrasting look, with a linear, warm wood tone finish. A modern planter houses a green beside flourish.

At this side of the bed, the headboard has been routed to complement the slatted wood aesthetic.

The enclosed balcony has been transformed into a comfortable reading nook with a built-in bench and upholstered seat cushions.

Inside the bathroom, fully-fitted furniture makes the absolute most of the compact room dimensions. A small farmhouse sink springs forth from a countertop with an attractive tile overlap, which also forms the tap mount for the bathtub.

A matching grey linear tile is situated across the vanity backsplash area in a vertical orientation.

Scented candles and filled decorative vases evoke an air of pampered tranquility

Light grey tile fills in the floor area too, and a small shower enclosure.

A vertical two-bar towel heater squeezes into the remaining narrow wall space.

Gentle blue paintwork and a matching upholstered backboard sets a tranquil backdrop for the kids’ bed. A geometric duvet cover combines all of the room colours together in a blue, brown, grey and white print.

Knitted poufs scatter the blue and brown accents across the oak floor, creating cosy hang out spots. A fabric pinboard offers the opportunity for the youngest member of the household to display artwork and treasures right up by their pillow.

A kid’s study area is laid out opposite the bed, with a unique kids’ desk, practical table lamps” title=”50 Unique Table Lamps That Help You Lighten Up Your Interior”>table lamp and a contemporary blue desk chair. An Avro Shackleton drawing makes a spectacular and educational focal wall behind the desk.

A glass bookcase keeps the dust off the kids’ library and special collectibles. A Baymax lamp gives off a friendly glow.

Another wood slatted ceiling panel establishes the study area as its own separate zone in the bedroom.

The small bathroom design situated off the home entryway follows the same aesthetic as the family bathroom, with light grey tile and custom-built oak cabinetry. A chrome towel heater dries off the hand towel.

This small bathroom space also serves as a functional laundry room, with a stacked washing machine and tumble dryer set. A tall storage unit provides plenty of space for the obligatory armoury of detergents, fabric softeners and stain removal products.

Apartment floor plan.

Recommended Reading:  Capturing The Cosy Home Vibe In Apartments Under 80 Sqm (Includes Floor Plans)

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A Tour Through The 2021 Kips Bay Decorator Show House Palm Beach

The living room by Kentucky-based Benjamin Deaton is full of color and p[attern

Nickolas Sargent

The fourth annual Kips Bay Decorator Show House in Palm Beach is all about color, pattern, whimsey, drama and personality. If we follow the lead of the 20 designers whose work is showcased in the 4,400 square foot Mediterranean villa located at 7417 South Flagler Drive, we will reach for saturated color, big patterns, wallpaper and fabrics that are scalloped, fringed and tasseled. Lighting fixtures will be the dramatic jewels to a room’s décor; floors and ceilings will be fifth and sixth walls, to be decorated with as much abandon as the four walls enclosing a room.

The Show House is open to the public April 8- May 9, 2021. Due to the Corona virus, this year’s Show House is a hybrid event, offering both first-hand and virtual experiences. For those visiting in person, the Show House is implementing precautions to protect participating designers and guests, including limiting the number of attendees. Admission tickets will be sold for specific dates and times to ensure that guest count allows for ample social distancing. In addition, all guests and employees of the house will be required to wear masks and health screenings will be conducted for all staff, as well as increased cleaning and sanitation throughout the house. 

Entering by way of Palm Beach-based Fernando Wong’s Hollywood-inspired front motor court and pool terrace, we step into a two-story foyer, staircase and hallway designed to evoke a Colonial hothouse by Casa Gusto of West Palm Beach. Vines wreathe along the walls between ceramics, and colorful mosaics frame antique botanicals.

The living room by Kentucky’s Benjamin Deaton has azure walls, a chocolate lacquered fireplace mantel and an inviting bar. Lorna Gross, a DC-based designer, made the dining room lush with a décor based on a gorgeous silk rug populated by whimsical, colorful critters. A step to the rear courtyard and garden is hardly a step down: SMI Landscape Architecture, a local firm, pays homage to the historic Palm Beach slat house of the Hotel Royal Poinciana with teal vine-patterned lattice, a pebble mosaic koi pond, a limestone and gravel checkerboard floor, potted maho trees and, hung on the walls, masses of yellow orchids.

The primary bedroom nods to the Palm Beach location

Nickolas Sargent

The kitchen designed by Atlanta-based Mark Williams is the only neutral room in the house. With traditional tiled walls, white oak cabinets and marble-hued Consentino countertops, the room has a horizontal orientation that makes for a sense of luxurious calm and ease.

A dramatic, botanicals-inspired bedroom

Nickolas Sargent

Laundry meets luxury in the utility room, reached via a pair of custom walnut and brass barn doors. HW Interiors installed a dramatic onyx floor backlit with LED bulbs, an extravagant counterpoint to the very practical dog shower. Another small space with huge impact is the powder room designed by Atlanta-based Forbes+Masters, where gray marble-like tiles tinged with pink and cream line the walls.

New York City’s Mikel Walsh created a primitive, modern family room furnished with his own Cradle Chairs and crowned with a tasseled chandelier. Next door, the vestibule leading from the public family room to the private bedroom is called “Flock Hall” by designer Harry Heissmann, also of NYC. 

Afro-chic glam in a closet by Nicole White

Nickolas Sargent

The primary bedroom, by Courtney Giles of Atlanta, is all about the Palm Beach location with palm tree wallpaper and a beachy vibe. The primary bathroom was designed by Miami-based Nicole White with dark, moody colors; the adjoining closet showcases Afro-chic glam with dramatic art and lighting. 

A tropical bathroom in blue

Nickolas Sargent

The guest bedroom by local design firm Kemble Interiors is a stunner with larger-than-life hand-painted flora and fauna on the walls and a metal bed that mimics a bougainvillea vine. No less colorful and dramatic, the adjoining guest bath and closet by Ontario-based Alexandra Naranjo is a symphony of blues and tropical vegetation. Another guest room evokes a modern European sensibility as interpreted by Houston designer Nina Magon. A guest suite by Amy Morris of Atlanta has a bed placed in a corner and a pale blue painted floor. Westchester-based Brittany Bromley treated another guest room to hand painted scenic wallpaper and classic French elements. The adjoining bathroom is drama itself, mirrored with Mercury glass.

Mally Skok’s cheerful upstairs sitting room

Nickolas Sargent

A second-floor seating area is lively and sunny, yet serene. Massachusetts designer Mally Skok, who is also a fabric and wallpaper designer, lined the walls with her latest botanically-based wall covering, while the ceiling and trim wear a sunny shade of terra cotta. 

The house is blessed with a number of outdoor spaces, including a loggia off the guest bedrooms designed by Atlanta-based Anna Braund and featuring a custom banquette, as well as an awning-covered balcony designed to evoke Caribbean chickee huts by Ellen Kavanaugh of Palm Beach.

Tickets for the Kips Bay Decorator Show House Palm Beach must be purchased on line at www.kipsbaydecoratorshowhouse.org/palmbeach. General admission hours are Monday through Sunday,10a.m.-4p.m. All proceeds will benefit Kips Bay Boys & Girls Club in the Bronx, New York and Boys & Girls Clubs of Palm Beach County, who together serve 20,000 youth, ages six through 18.

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Have an Endless Summer With These 35 Beach House Decor Ideas

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Have an Endless Summer With These 35 Beach House Decor Ideas

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Want to infuse your home with a little bit of beach chic for the summer (or year round)? Wait until you see these 35 beach house decor ideas. You can bring a little bit of coastal living into your home or apartment, even if you’re not beach-adjacent, with just a few tweaks! Here’s how:

Add some nautical stripe beach house decor

A blue and white stripe is a fresh beach house decor idea. Here are some ways to add a coastal living stripe to your space:

Add a beach-style striped throw to your bed or sofa. Image: Julia Sperling

For a coastal chic living room, add a large and bold woven striped rug. Image: Elle Decor

The hand-dyed rug and window treatments of this beach house themed living room feature a stripe pattern that ties everything together. Image: Better Homes and Gardens

Layer your everyday bedding for a coastal living vibe with a striped blanket or linen striped pillows. Image: John Lewis

A simple footstool in a blue and white stripe may be all you need to add a little beach style to your space. Image: Hoister

Add some wicker, rattan or sisal beach theme decor

Materials like seagrass, rattan and sisal give a room an instant coastal living feel. The materials are rope-like and add texture to the space, perfect for the beach style effect you’re looking for.

Bamboo and wicker bar stools add a coastal cottage feel to this modern kitchen. Image: Style Craft Homes

The bed of this beach house theme bedroom is made with seagrass inserts in the headboard and footboard. Image: Homeclick

Woven wicker chairs are lightweight, inexpensive and durable. Group them with other beach house decor pieces like seaglass pendants, a beadboard-finish island and a pale seafoam blue wall color and you have a modern coastal space. Image: Stephen Alexander Homes

The classic bamboo and wicker hanging basket chair is a great way to add a cool, coastal vibe to a room. Image: Kate Jackson Design

This coastal living room features two wicker armchairs and a two-tone sisal area rug to complete the beach style look. Image: Style Craft Homes

Add indigo for a modern coastal space

Blue is the quintessential beach theme decor color. Seafoam, light blue, navy and turquoise are just a few shades you can use. But for a modern coastal look, give the shade of indigo a try. It’s similar to navy blue, but a little richer and more saturated. The color works beautifully with wood tones, whites and black.

The indigo color is repeated in patterns on the chest and bedding of this coastal style bedroom. Image: Reliance Design Build Remodel

A modern coastal dining room features simple yet contemporary beach theme decor on the wall in indigo tones. Image: Tamara Magel

Textured indigo tones are found on the pillows and floor rug. Image: Natalia Kupsova

Don’t like blue? You can still enjoy beach style

Although blue is the most typical color for beach house theme decor, you can skip the blue altogether and still have a stylish beach style space. Here are some ideas:

A restful beach style living room is inspired by the pale shades of sand: cream, ivory, beige and soft pink. Image: Affordable Decorators

Natural wood tones, whites and a tropical print featuring a bright lime green create a coastal living vibe in this dining room. Image: Better Homes and Gardens

This elegant living room interprets coastal modern by using woven textures in natural tones and the color white. Image: Elle Decor

Minimal amounts of blue are seen in this beach house theme. Instead, texture in the form of stripes, beadboard panels and whitewashed brick are used to create a coastal-chic space. Image: House Beautiful

Slipcover furniture for a modern coastal living look

For an easy and relaxed beach vibe, add slipcovers to your sofas and chairs. Cotton or linen slipcovers in white, khaki or beige are the most beach-themed. Finish off the modern coastal living look with some beach-theme pillows.

White slipcovers and crisp indigo throw pillows create a modern coastal chic look. Image: Better Homes and Gardens

Overstuffed contemporary sofas are slipcovered in ivory linen for a relaxed beach look. Image: Blackband Design

White cotton slipcovered sofas and slate blue linen chair covers can be removed and washed or changed out for heavier fabric covers in winter. Image: Elle Decor UK

This stylish modern coastal dining room features several beach style elements: the color indigo, wicker chairs, a whitewashed wood table and slipcovered linen armchairs on wheels. Image: Blackband Design

Decorate your dining table with beach theme decor

Even if you live far from the beach, you can re-create a lovely beach theme dining experience by creating a coastal tablescape. All you need are some tabletop elements to layer with your everyday plates and silverware. Some beach house decor items you can add include:

Beach-style napkin ringsLinen, striped or nautical napkinsHurricane candle holdersChargers or a small accent plate in a nautical styleHand-blown glasses that look like seaglassA table runner or table cloth in a coastal look or color of your choice

The wine glasses on this table look like seaglass. The color theme of aqua and sand of this tablescape replicates a day at the beach. Image: Between Naps On The Porch

Layering beach theme decor like netting as a table runner, starfish and coastal-inspired plates creates a fun beach-themed table. Image: Southern Family Fun

Add whitewashed accents to your room

Whitewashing means adding a translucent stain of white to an item. It’s different from painting the piece because a whitewash is more see through and looks more natural. Choose pale and whitewashed accents for an updated coastal vibe. The look is similar to the tone of driftwood and adds the light and bright effect of a beach house to your room.

The wood accents in this home were left in their natural wood tones for a surfer-chic vibe. The most striking of all is the modern whitewashed oak coffee table. Image: Helen Bainbridge

The bookcases of this home office are natural teak but the two seagrass ottomans under the console were given a white paint wash. Image: Style Craft Homes

A monochromatic white on white bedroom with pale woods and sisal expand and brighten the space. Image: Etsy

Two-tone walls are very ‘beach house’

There are many ways you can get the two-tone beach house look. You can paint the walls in two contrasting colors. Or wallpaper the upper or lower half and paint the other one. Or you can add classic, nautical beadboard panels to the lower half of the wall. Here are some examples:

The two-tone wall was achieved by using paint and wallpaper. Image: House Beautiful

The easiest way to add two colors to your walls is by painting them. When painting, use painter’s tape to create a crisp, sharp line. Image: Bernhard Woodwork

Use driftwood for a beach house theme

Recycle found objects like driftwood and bamboo by using them as wall art or as the base of an occasional or coffee table.

The homeowners collected driftwood on a beach walk and hung them freeform over their breakfast nook. Image: House Beautiful

Driftwood over the mantel and as the base of a table add to the modern coastal look of this open floor plan living space. Image: House Beautiful

Use beadboard panels for a modern coastal effect

Beadboard or wainscoting are panels of vertical wood that have been used for years to insulate and serve as walls. Found at most home improvement stores, they can be painted and are easy to work with. Here are some ways you can add beadboard for a beach style look:

A small home features crisp, white beadboard walls. The vertical panels enhance the small space’s ceiling height. Image: Elle Decor

A coastal theme bed is made with beadboard slats. Image: Bedroom Fresh Decor

You can’t have too many beach theme decor items

For the ultimate beach house look, layer plenty of blues, stripes, woven materials and other beach home decor.

A coral replica and various decorative objects in blue and white make a beach style statement. Image: Maegan Swabb

Throw pillows are often the least expensive and most dramatic way to create a modern coastal living space. Image: Coastal Living

A wall collage of shells and soft, pale blue and beige tones make this entry an inviting stop in the home. Image: Our Boat House

Just a small amount of beach theme decor can transform your space into a summer vacation getaway. Are you planning on adding a little beach style to your home? What’s your favorite beach house decor idea?

The post Have an Endless Summer With These 35 Beach House Decor Ideas appeared first on Freshome.com.

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The Hotel Maritim designed by Dom Arquitectura is located on Roses beach promenade wanted to renovate the entire ground floor. Updating the common spaces, while still maintaining their same existing uses. The hotel’s ground floor is divided into three areas: the hall and reception, the bar, and the terrace.

“We have conceived the reception and hall area as an open space, and we have designed the walls and furniture, through panels, slats and straight volumes. For the stairs and elevator access is we have used a panelling white lacquered dm in order to give consistency to the currently irregular set of walls and some doors. As we enter the hall, we find a wall separating the bar area, formed by vertical oak slats that accompanies us to the reception, and generates a large wooden frame, that highlights the sea views at the end. We have designed the reception furniture, including a bench with the same oak wood as the vertical slats, unifying materials. The reception furniture is combined with a white corian volume that forms the countertop.

The bar area is distributed to accommodate all the activities required by the hotel: meetings, dance, performances, and other events that require a lot of versatility. Therefore, we have created an open space with mobile furniture that allows and enhances flexibility and multiple uses, as well as, a relaxation area with sofas for reading, and a bar area with tables.

The last bay before the facade is designed as a continuation of the terrace, where we have used the same floor in ipe. Thinking about the extensive use of the hotel in summer, we have proposed a set of folding glass doors without frames, that allow us to leave the entire façade open, creating a semi covered area. Hence we have created an area that may have a bar related as well to the outdoor terrace, as if it were a large covered porch.

The lighting is made out of indirect linear leds lights, and adjustable spotlights combined as well with table and foot lamps with lampshades that create a warmer atmosphere and cosier spaces.

The terrace area with a wood ipe flooring, is elevated over the village’s seafront promenade, allowing a continuous visual connection with the beach and the sea beyond. The pre-existing stainless steel railing is eliminated, and a new glass railing is installed without stilts, accentuating this greater connection. We proposed as well a new horizontal awning structure, with three bays that allows us to have a large outdoor shaded area. Finally, in the same ipe wood, we form several fixed planters, with various plants that help us to separate spaces and create various zones, privatizing the terrace area from the existing pool.”

Architect: Pablo Serrano Elorduy Interior Designer: Blanca Elorduy Surface: 600 m2 Photo: Pablo Serrano Elorduy Date: 2018

Collaborators: Contract Deco – Lighting Grass, Pilma and Ego – Furniture

Hotel Maritim by Dom Arquitectura The Hotel Maritim designed by Dom Arquitectura is located on Roses beach promenade wanted to renovate the entire ground floor.

The Dezeen guide to wood in architecture, interiors and design

Thinking of using timber in your architecture or design project? Our guide to 15 of the most popular types of wood and wood products has links to hundreds of examples for inspiration.

Ash

Ash is a deciduous hardwood that produces a beautiful pale timber with a grain similar to oak. Versatile, shock-resistant and with no odour, it is widely used for furniture and objects.

Architect R2 Studio used solid ash to create a staircase with a perforated plywood bannister in a London domestic extension while Hannah clad an off-grid cabin in upstate New York with infested ash wood. In Valencia, Francesc Rifé Studio used ash throughout the interiors of a facial and dental clinic named Swiss Concept (above).

See projects featuring ash ›

Bamboo

Bamboo is a type of grass rather than a tree but its fast-growing canes are widely used in architecture and design both in their natural state and processed into wood-like lumber and fibres.

Bamboo canes are used for the structure, walls and doors of this clothing factory in Colombia by Ruta 4 (above), while designer David Trubridge has reissued his Cloud lighting collection using bamboo strips instead of plastic.

See projects featuring bamboo ›

Beech

Native to Europe, beech is a hard, heavy, fine-textured hardwood widely used in furniture making and as a flooring material. It is also commonly used as a veneer and the timber is suitable for steam bending. Beech wood ranges from creamy white to pink or red in colour.

Designer David Ericsson created the Madonna chair from solid beech for Swedish brand Gärsnäs while Peca designed cylindrical furniture with beech wood dowels (above.)

See projects featuring beech ›

Cedar

This coniferous softwood is weather-resistant, making it suitable for cladding including shingles as well as outdoor furniture. It has a fragrant aroma and insect-repelling qualities.

The wood comes from a handful of species of genuine cedar trees that grow at high altitudes including Lebanon cedar and Cyprus cedar.

Additionally, there is a range of American conifers that are commonly described as cedars, including western red cedar and Atlantic white cedar, which are technically different species.

Cedar-clad buildings are particularly common in America. Bates Masi Architects used oversized cedar shingles for the cladding of this home in the Hamptons (above and top) while HGA Architects and Engineers covered these Vermont dwellings in cedar boards.

See projects featuring cedar ›

Cherry

The wood of the cherry tree has a warm reddish colour that darkens with age. It is fine-grained and easy to work, making it a popular choice for furniture and homewares as gives a rich tone to interiors.

Azman Architects used cherry wood to create partitions in a London apartment while John Pawson paired the timber with limestone for his Jil Sander store in Tokyo (above.)

See projects featuring cherry ›

Chestnut

The sweet chestnut tree produces timber with a brown or reddish-brown colour and a coarse texture. It is suitable for outdoor uses including cladding, shingles, decking and outdoor furniture, as well as for indoor furnishings and objects.

Architect K-Studio used chestnut wood for the lattice of a Greek holiday home, (above,) while designer Mikyia Kobayashi built an electric mobility scooter from the timber.

See projects featuring chestnut ›

Cork

The bark of the cork oak tree has come into favour in recent years as a material for both architecture and design projects. As well as having a pleasantly musty smell it has good insulation properties and is fire resistant, making it appropriate for internal and external cladding.

Its noise reduction properties, sponginess and durability make it suitable for flooring as well while the sustainable way cork is harvested without damaging the tree gives it good environmental credentials. On top of this, cork can be recycled.

Architect Matthew Barnett Howland demonstrated the versatility of cork by building a recyclable house from the material, (above,) while Jasper Morrison is one of the designers who has used cork conglomerate to make furniture.

See projects featuring cork ›

Douglas fir

Native to western North America, Douglas fir is an evergreen conifer. A softwood, it is a type of pine rather than a true fir and is commonly grown as a Christmas tree. Its timber is pinkish to red in colour.

Douglas fir, which is also known as Oregon pine, is widely used in construction. Architectural uses include the cladding on this barn-like house in England (above) by Elliott Architects and the exposed structure of this cabin in the Netherlands by Crafted Works.

See projects featuring Douglas fir ›

Larch

Larch is a deciduous conifer that grows throughout the northern hemisphere. The heartwood is usually red or brown in colour. Tough and durable with waterproof qualities, larch is widely used outdoors for fencing and cladding as well as boat-building.

Projects using larch include Arklab's twin houses in Germany that are clad in untreated larch and a house in Scotland by Mary Arnold-Forster Architects that is clad in burnt larch (above.)

See projects featuring larch ›

Maple

There are around 200 species of maple, ranging from shrubs to large trees identifiable by their pairs of winged seeds and five-lobed leaves.

This deciduous hardwood is widely harvested for timber, which has a fine grain and ranges in colour from white to golden or red. The wood is used for a variety of indoor purposes including furniture and objects and is particularly prized as a flooring material for sports halls and dance venues.

Designer Thomas Heatherwick created a modular desk with wooden planter legs made from maple (above), while architect Naturehumaine clad a staircase in angular panels of solid timber as part of a renovation of a Montreal apartment.

See projects featuring maple ›

Oak

There are around 500 different species of oak tree, many of which produce hard, durable, versatile timber that can be used structurally, for external and internal cladding, for doors and windows and furniture and flooring.

Architect Thomas-McBrien used oak to clad the interior of this kitchen extension in London (above), while this off-grid cabin by Out of the Valley has a structure of oak beams constructed using traditional joinery techniques.

Oak furniture includes Cecilie Manz's Workshop table for Muuto, which has a solid oak frame and an oak veneer top.

See projects featuring oak ›

Pine

There are dozens of species of pine. It is a coniferous softwood, often with a yellow or reddish colour and containing many small knots that give pine objects and interiors a rustic look, plus a distinctive sharp scent.

Many types of pine trees grow quickly, making their wood cheaper than other timbers. This partly explains pine's widespread use in construction and joinery. More hardwearing than other softwoods, pine is also widely used for flooring and staircases.

Architectural uses include the slatted cladding on this beach house in Chile by LAND Arquitectos (above), and this Swedish lakeside house by Dive Architects, while design projects that use pine include a furniture collection by Studio Sløyd that attempts to revive interest in a type of timber that has fallen out of fashion in recent years.

See projects featuring pine ›

Spruce

Spruce is a genus of evergreen coniferous tree native to the northern hemisphere. One of the most widely used of all timbers, spruce wood is often confused with pine but is generally lighter and softer with a creamy white, pale yellow or red-brown colour.

A softwood, spruce is easy to work with and is used extensively in construction, including structural elements and internal and external cladding, in the production of plywood and in carpentry.

Architectural uses include the cave-like interior of this suite at a luxury resort in Greece designed by Tenon Architecture and the panelled interior of Kvadrat's design studio in Copenhagen (above) by Caruso St John.

See projects featuring spruce ›

Sycamore

Sycamore is the name given to a range of deciduous hardwood trees including the European sycamore, maple sycamore and American plane. It is often confused with maple and has similar-shaped leaves and winged seeds.

The timber is white to light brown with a fine grain, sometimes featuring a speckled pattern.

Susceptible to rot if it gets wet, the timber is not generally used for construction or outdoor purposes but as it has no odour and does not stain it is widely used for kitchen implements as well as furniture and objects.

Designer Faye Toogood used sycamore for a range of furniture while architect Giles Reid used the timber for a bar in a Japanese restaurant in London (above).

See projects featuring sycamore ›

Walnut

Walnut is a dense hardwood that polishes well and often has an attractive colour and an intricately patterned grain. It is particularly suitable for carving and furniture making while walnut veneers are prized by luxury car brands and cabinet makers.

Popular varieties include European (also known as English) walnut and black walnut, which is native to the USA.

Furniture that makes use of walnut includes the 50th-anniversary edition of Arne Jacobsen's Lily Chair, which is finished in a walnut veneer, while architect Scott Whitby Studio designed a bedroom that features bespoke walnut furniture (above.)

See projects featuring walnut ›

Wood products

Numerous material products are made from wood and there are many ways of treating wood to change its appearance and performance. Here are some of the best-known.

Blackened wood

Blackened wood is increasingly popular as a way of finishing natural timber, particularly for cladding and furniture. The surface of the timber is blackened by singeing it.

Cross-laminated timber

Cross-laminated timber (CLT) is an engineered construction product made of strips of wood bonded together with their grains at right angles to each other for rigidity. It can be used for small buildings like the woodland cabin by Otraum Architects (above), and is strong enough to use structurally, including for tall buildings such as the proposed 13-storey Dock Mill tower by Urban Agency.

Plywood

Plywood is made of thin veneers of wood glued together with crisscrossing grains to produce sheets that can be used for internal cladding, structures and even for external use when protected from the weather adequately, plus a wide range of products.

Birch plywood is particularly prized due to its fine grain and silky appearance.

Architects Diana Salvador and Javier Mera used plywood to build a cabin in Equador for themselves beside a river in Puerto Quito (above), while Toledano + Architects used steam-bent plywood to create a sinuous partition in this Paris apartment.

Steam-bent timber

Some types of wood can be formed into curves by subjecting them to steam, which softens the material and allows it to be bent in a mould. Steam-bent timber is widely used to produce furniture as well as cladding and features such as bannisters.

Chipboard

Chipboard, also known as particle board, is a cheaper engineered product consisting of small pieces of wood bonded together into boards.

Oriented strand board

Oriented strand board (OSB) is made of larger strands of wood arranged so their grains run in different directions and then compressed and bonded. It can be used for larger architectural projects, like this house in Alicante, Spain (below).

Recent popular wooden projects on Dezeen include a cork and cross-laminated timber extension to a traditional Catalan house, a pair of timber-clad cabins on a coastal hillside in Chile, a cosy woodland cabin in Finland and a wooden tofu factory in the mountains of eastern China.

The post The Dezeen guide to wood in architecture, interiors and design appeared first on Dezeen.

Arplis - News: Picturesque Wall Mounted Dish Rack

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