Samuel’s Collection

O.K. Here’s story number one – or the story my husband thought too grisly. Thanks to anyone interested in reading.

Samuel had never collected hats because he’d never thought of it before. Rather disgusting in the end. All the hairs caught in the wool: red, blonde, black, gray.
And tiny flecks of skin.

Red-haired Anya, the seamstress. Blonde-maned Margo, the butcher’s wife. Old man Peterson, hair black as coal and his brother Thomas, gray-headed and scaley.

It wasn’t the fact that they were all dead now, it was how they died, shoved into a pit and shot, one-by-one. Samuel remembers how they lay bleeding in the snow. The only unstained clothing? Their woolen caps, now stacked neatly in his closet.

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Rooked

As a child, Judy collected all manner of things: fossils, petrified wood, bird wings, seeds. At twenty she began work at the Seattle Art Museum, donating her massive collection, collecting more through travels abroad – used her own money to purchase the most exotic pieces in the museum. Fifty years passed and there wasn’t a building in the world housing anything close to what Judy brought home. Today she opens a box from Africa with her rarest find, a Lintzer Spider mummified with its catch. Down the hall she can hear the governor saying, “To Mr.Evans and his fine collection!”

(Author’s note: To the best of my knowledge there’s no such thing as a Lintzer Spider)

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