Phantom

I am so happy to announce that @carolkean is getting in on the WeWrite contest this week, by continuing my story! For those of you who don't know what a WeWrite is check out this post: https://steempeak.com/wewrite/@freewritehouse/we-write-12-october-partner-week-last-week-s-winners-announced
It's a great contest where the two luckiest writers win a 5 sbi prize!

The prompt by @owasco for @carolkean to continue:

Elsie hated sunflowers. Everyone who knew her knew this, but every single time a new person came to her beautiful house on the sea cliffs of Northampton, they would have stopped at the farm stand just outside the winding dirt road to her house and picked up an armload of sunflowers for her. When Elsie answered the door and the guests delightedly handed her the huge bouquet, her face would drop, she'd toss them in a corner of the mudroom much to the visitor's dismay, and she'd usher the gawkers in without so much as a smile. She would then caution them to avoid the hooked wool rugs that were strewn throughout the house right where it would be easiest to step, so that the deflowered visitors would have to creep, hop, sidle and leap to get to the studio on the far side of the house overlooking the bay.

Her hubby, you see, had been famous, a prolific and beloved musician confined to a wheelchair. Edgar Viscardo was his name, and Moog synthesizer was his game. He'd made the instrument famous back in the seventies when he could still walk, but it wasn't until after the accident that his music became the trans-formative stuff it was in his later years. His devoted sunflower-toting followers just had to see his studio now that he was gone.

Edgar had been a bit odd. He held ones gaze with a green-eyed and intense stare. He never felt he got his fill of sea urchin at dinner, and he insisted that everyone in his presence at sunset do a celebratory dance to salute the twilight. But his oddest trait of all was that he was known to blurt out the word "Phantom!" without warning or apparent cause at socially unacceptable times, such as at funerals and civic association meetings. These outbursts, although fairly rare, were always followed by prolific periods of musical composition.

It was after these periods of mad music making that he and his wife Elsie would work together on yet another rug.

And here is @carolkean's continuation! A beautiful love story for Halloween:
https://steempeak.com/wewrite/@carolkean/phantom-we-write-12-with-owasco

Thanks so much for reading them both!

All images are my own unless otherwise stated.
The blue rug was made by my mother. The dachshund is mine, but I bought the rug.