So I posted this yesterday:
For months, there were mysterious signs — an unlatched gate and the inexplicable odor of smoke inside Velma Kellen’s three-bedroom home in Yelm, Wash.
and I commented thusly:
How fabulous is that for a writing prompt!!! The best part is, it is a true story.
I might have to do something with this…
Despite all her efforts, Velma could not get to the bottom of the mystery. She was an avid gardener and often spent hours with her hands in the rich, dark, pungent Washington soil; she was no stranger to crawling about the yard, and had been doing so for most of her 73 years on Earth. She meticulously inched through the flower bed that surrounded her home, looking for traces of an intruder; she found not a footprint, not a granule out of place. Each night as she watched the evening news and did the Times crossword, she was accosted by the smell of smoke; there was no visible evidence of it–no tell-tale bits of soot on the doilies–but every so often the smell would reach deep into her sinuses. Again, she readied herself for bed and after turning off the living room light and television, sighing deeply. And then, two sounds. She looked up as her eyes adjusted to the winter night gloom: a glimmer through the ancient floorboards above her head and another below her feet; who or what was moving up on the second floor and below, under the house?