Nightingale Floor

                                             Nightingale Floor 

Some of you may remember my Nightingale Floor. The hallway to my bedroom has some squeaks, even when I'm not walking on it. The carpenters say it's the temperature or humidity. I beg to differ.

I finished writing my manuscript, Texas Cakewalk-Wyoming Lynchings, which will be published soon. So all the characters have been put to bed. No more nighttime visits and I look forward to sleep.

However, the characters John, Lydia, Amanda, and William (oops Billy) marched into my room just as I got settled and started to drift off into slumber. I heard them coming and sighed. I got rid of one set of characters and now a new set tromps in making the floor creak. 

"What do you folks want?" said I.

"We were on vacation, and our car died on a lonely dirt road in the desert. While walking, a sandstorm arrived. Then we met Whiskers."

At the mention of this name, the floor squeaked loudly, and in walked a weather-beaten man whose age is indeterminate from his appearance. He wore a decidedly worn Stetson. His blue eyes held a mysterious mirth, and his face told me his smile was as natural as honey to the honeycomb. He also had whiskers, hence the name I suppose, which were short and had more white than brown. 

I had to listen to the first set of characters as they went on and on and on. Whiskers smiled and nodded like a slow-moving bobblehead. He didn't enter into the tale. 

Finally, I had enough. I was tired and achy and wanted to sleep, so in a very demanding voice, I said, "That's enough. My brain can't take in any more of your story. Get out of here and come back another time. Now! I'm tired."

They all smiled and nodded their heads as they left. I listened to the creaks in the hallway to be sure they were gone and finally fell asleep.

This all means I need to write their story before they leave me alone. I wonder how many nights it will be with the nightingale floor alerting me to their coming?

Stay tuned.