The Old Lady in the House on the Hill

Old lady Maude had been brought up much different than most children in her area. Her parents were suspicious of everyone. Dogs and cats weren’t even allowed as pets. The fear was they may become rabid and bite through the full moon nights, and someone wouldn’t wake up.

The odd family lived down a long lane at the edge of town. At night; the curving road would send shivers down your spine, just staring down the long, empty vine. The owners felt like they mattered to no one because people just didn’t seem to understand their views on life. They went about their business and seemed to only exist in the world.

When Maude grew up; she became her parent’s likeness. She lived in the old house her parents had left her. She lived alone within the walls. The spiders and anything that crept through the house on the darkest of nights, became her friends.

She hated people in general; except the one neighbor on her right side. When she would walk to the mailbox, and if he was outside, he would wave and say good day. At first; she ignored him, but after repeated gestures, she did wave and eventually said her first hello.

Maude was in the attic one day and came across some trunks that had been her parents. She opened the hunched lids and found various clothing. She spent the better part of the afternoon trying them on.

She took the best ones and the next day when she went to the mailbox, she was wearing an A-line dress, with a brooch and matching shoes and hat, which had a big, floppy flower dangling off it.

The neighbor was out and instead of doing his usual good day, he stared and said nothing. She noticed, but said nothing, making her way to get the mail. When she was about half-way back to the house, he met her.

He stuck his hand out to shake hers. “I guess we have never been formally introduced. I am Jake and of course you know where I live. It is my pleasure to meet you, and your name is”?

She let a small smile sneak out and said, “Maude”. From that day on, the two kept company at the mailbox, chatting about nothing, and then without thinking she invited him to supper, and he agreed.


It came to be that on Wednesdays and Saturdays, they dined at each others homes. Each gave a guided tour of their homes, and it was a month later, the intimacy followed. Maude had never felt that way in her entire life.

This was love, she just knew it, and she fell hard for him. On the other hand, he had had many relationships in his life. He was what we would call a “gold digger”, and he wanted her gold. Stories had been told that her parents hid money all over their house. They never spent any money on anything other than necessities.  He wanted it, he tasted it, and he would do what ever he had to do, to get his grubby hands on it, even if it meant courting Old Lady Maude.

As the months passed, the invitations passed by, and Maude made her presence known by a knock at his door. It was a blustery day in March. It was Monday evening. He wasn’t expecting her and when she knocked; their was no answer.

After waiting became a problem, she turned the handle and it opened. She walked in and without calling his name, she walked the rooms until she happened upon the door to his bedroom.

There, she heard moans. Raised voices, pleading for more. Maude listened until she could stand no more. She quietly turned the brass door knob and opened it just enough that her eyes could take in the view.

There on the bed was a woman and her man. Her face became hot. Her heart started beating fast and hard. She quietly closed the door and exited the way she had entered. Once back in her home, the words of mistrust came rushing back to her.

Her parents had been right. You could trust no one in life, not even the people you thought would never hurt you. She had to pay him back. She had to get revenge. She thought and thought. She paced the floors.

She thought of the most painful ways to hurt him. Should she make him suffer? Should she make it quick and clean? She went to bed with no supper and continued thinking out her plans.

It was on the next planned date night, he was to have supper at her house. He arrived on time. She smiled at him as she let him in the front door. She led him to the familiar dining room where an already pulled out chair awaited him.


He sat and she began bringing him the planned menu. A bowl of soup, with a trace of arsenic in it. Next came a tender slice of roast beef, with a spice of rat poison sprinkled on top. A salad of greens with just the smallest trace of anti-freeze, mixed in with the salad dressing.

She sat with her plate and watched eagerly as he ate bite by bite. After his plate was cleaned, she saw his face turn pale white, then blood red. She smiled as he grabbed his stomach and then vomit a green, foaming mass onto the floor.

“What? What did you give me? Are you trying to poison me”?

Maude asked him one simple question. “Aren’t you trying to poison me? You with your skilled words and manners. Reeling me in like a fish on a hook. The moment my back is turned, you have your penis in another”.

He tried to stand. He wanted to choke her. How dare she accuse him of such things. Look at how he had wined and dined her. He even bedded the old woman, and this is how she returned his favors?

As he stood, he fell to the floor. White foam dripping from his nose and mouth. He lay there lifeless. Maude checked his breath; there was none. He was dead. She rose and cleared the dishes. She rinsed everything in the hottest of water and washed them in bleach.

After the evidence was erased, she rolled the body onto a rug and drug him out to her back yard. She pulled  him to the edge of the cliff and with a giant push, he went cascading over the edges; bouncing off of rocks on his way down.

The wild animals would eat him alive. She smiled and rubbed  her hands against her clothes as if to erase all fingerprints. She walked back to the house, and took a bath. She knelt at her bed and thanked her parents for showing her the way people were. She promised her parents no one would ever touch the money hidden in the walls. After her prayer, she crawled into bed, covered up and went to sleep without another thought.




It’s Christmas eve

The children in bed

Mama and papa

Sipping drinks in the shed.
Bike put together 

Doll house stands tall

Let’s eat some more rum balls

Then time to put in the call.
Hello? Santa? It’s us

The Millers on Main

We’re ready for deliveries 

Now grab hold of the reins.
We’ve done all we could

Spent money we had

Could you help our small children,

Cuz they haven’t been  bad.
I am sure you’ve been looking

Over the naughty and good

I promised the young ones

You wouldn’t bypass our hood.
So please Mr. Clause

Don’t forget our small street 

We’ll stay awake and be listening

For your sleigh and the reindeer feet.
Written by, 

Terry Shepherd 

December 24th, 2016
Picture painted by, Terry Shepherd 

Giving Thanks 

​Shopping done

Coffee in hand

Gazing at bows

Lights so grand.
Menu is complete 

Cookies are baked

Candies are perfect

Why am I still awake.
Music is playing

Most are in bed

I have to give thanks 

To those in my head.
I feel your presence  Daddy

Mom, I hear your voice

I see Alvin is smiling 

Playing with Coca-Cola toys.
I will celebrate here

While you feast with God above

Merry Christmas to all;      

To all those I love

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

What a Difference Life Can Be

I will be returning home today; but coming back in a few days to spend Christmas with my family. 

When I am home and spending more time with my thoughts than the day; I tend to be more sad.

Reliving sad moments of when my parents and brother slipped out of my life and going to heaven.

I am one of those people who cried so much after losing my brother;  I haven’t cried once in the past two years.

I almost wish I would though.  Heaviness of the heart can bring the soul to the knees and sadness becomes as thick fog, with a clear view of less than a quarter mile.

When I have the opportunity to spend time with my son and his family, the veil is lifted. The heart beats stronger.

The smile returns and sadness is eliminated from the word count. I feel needed and loved. I feel I belong.

I won’t be sad when I return home. I have projects that need completed and I know I will be returning back to a sound environment. 

What a difference life can be when you are surrounded by positive and loving people. 

Merry Christmas to all of my WordPress friends and if you party on New years eve;  stay safe.

Eggnog Fudge – Shugary Sweets




  • 2 cups granulated sugar
  • 3/4 cup eggnog
  • 3/4 cup unsalted butter
  • pinch of salt
  • 1 jar marshmallow cream, (7 oz)
  • 1 11 ounce package white chocolate chips
  • 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1 teaspoon rum extract


  1. Line a 9-inch square baking dish with parchment paper. Set aside.
  2. Prepare your mixing bowl by adding the marshmallow cream, white chocolate morsels, nutmeg, and rum flavoring. Place these ingredients into the mixing bowl and set aside.
  3. In a large saucepan, melt butter with sugar, eggnog, and salt over medium high heat. Bring to a boil. Stirring continuously, boil for a complete 4 minutes (rolling boil). Remove from heat.
  4. Pour mixture over ingredients in mixing bowl. Using an electric mixer with whisk attachment, beat on medium until smooth and white chocolate is melted (about one minute). Pour into prepared baking dish.
  5. If desired, sprinkle with extra nutmeg for garnish.
  6. Refrigerate for 3 hours, or until set. Remove parchment paper and cut into bite sized pieces. ENJOY.






Daily Prompt, One Word Prompt


The word for today is BESPOKE

Learner’s definition of BESPOKE
: made to fit a particular person : custom-made

also : producing clothes that are made to fit a particular person


Are we custom made people? Are we able to be molded? Can others conform us to be what they want? How do we feel when others try to make us bespoken? I think deep down inside, it would hurt. It may make us angry when others don’t seem to get us.

I think for the most part we all want to be unique people. We want to stand our for who we are and be accepted for we believe and how we act. I know for me, I want to just be me. I don’t want to ever be bespoken.

Fixable? Hopefully

I am sitting here listening to my favorite, all-time group; The Carpenters. My heart is heavy tonight. No it’s not because of Al or any losses in my life. It is because I have placed myself in a position where I tend to beat myself up.

What did I do? What wrong thing did I say? What should I have done more of? I hate it and I am hating myself for allowing this to happen. I wonder if at my age, I will ever learn about myself.

I have to fix me. I can’t belittle myself any longer. I am worthy. I was happy once, I can be again.