One More Bankruptcy


“Oh, it’s not much of a place, as I told you, Audrey. Just a small cabin built on the side of a slight-rising hill here in Prudence, Indiana, the next town over, and the cabin’s been here longer than I have. Two older men, derelicts supposedly at one time, live there and have been there since 1965, from what I hear about them. The story says they built the place way back when, from the first stone up.”

The young lady speaking, a smothering dark-haired beauty of 21, and a burgeoning writer of essays and newsletters galore, Tricia Colbert, was showing a cousin and college classmate, Audrey Bardry, around the local area, highlighting places that had sparked her interest in younger years and still worked their way on her.

Audrey responded, after studying the cabin, hefty logs atop a stone foundation, a permanence evident in the rugged structure, “Who are they, Tricia? What are their names? What do you call them? Where did they come from?  Why land here, practically buried in the forest?” Her head shook in wonder as her gaze continued in study.

“I call them Peter and Paul, or Pick and Pat, or Mick and Mac, makes no difference. Other folks have other names, but none of us have been in there … ever,” the last word stretched her articulation. “It’s like taboo, if you want to know. You’re new here, so don’t go near there or them.”  A pause introduced another thought: “We didn’t even go near there on Halloween nights, even though we went right past the place.”

She oops and pointed at two old men, bent over, scraggly, somewhat disturbed, who came out the door in tandem, saw the two gawking girls, and went back inside, movements curiously quick and nimble in their haste.

Tricia, more curious than her cousin, and eagerly looking for a new tale on which to twist her mind around, began to organize a list of questions in her mind, knowing she had found a new target for her energies, and her intrusive curiosity.





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