the news

Suspicious Signals

Today started like any other. I woke from my bed, moved downstairs and turned on the television. It’s still on the news like any other day. But today felt different for me. I went through my normal routine, but there were strange stirrings next door. I opened the door, and there was this moving company hauling everything out and using scrub brushes on the floor.

the open door

They were escorting everything out in barrels labeled ‘YBDCO’ and carting them out to their unmarked truck. They were scrubbing a puddle by the door and scraping large chunks of black liquid out from another a little farther down the hall. It was hard to see, but I’m certain they were placing a worn out hat in a plastic bag for disposal.

I asked them all what happened, and no one would respond to me. They kept moving, their faces obscured by their hats. I approached one of them, and before I could turn them around, I heard a sticking sound from my apartment. Like tape unfurling itself.

When I arrived, the top level of red tape had fallen to the floor. A fine line of moisture lining it. When I felt the air coming from the closet, it was quite warm, humid in fact. I peeled the rest of the tape off and revealed an awful but fleeting stench escaping it. When I finally flung open the door, I found nothing in the room at all. It didn’t have any ominous feelings or draft like before; it was just a room.

A little later in the day, I received a package. Another manilla envelope from my mysterious benefactor. This was sent a lot sooner than my previous envelopes, and I was very intrigued. I held it in my hands until my eyes were taken back to the television.

“Breaking News,” they said. “Catastrophe,” they said. “Freak Accident,” they said. Until they spoke no more and the only sound that came from the television were screams and that awful sound that came from my work. The image on the screen was a ship dipping into the ocean. People jumping off from the bow into the waters as a fire began to swim up from the belly of the machine.

the sinking

There was an escalating number in the corner, a score keeper for the boatman. I sat there, watching in terror as the ship slipped into the oblivion. I felt such slight relief when that awful scream of my whistle was squelched within the waves. Drowned by the same waters, I swam in not one week before.

I sat there, in agony and confusion. Disbelief washes over me as I saw all of those lives disappear in front of me. There is a strange sensation when I look down at my hands to find blood. I had cut my finger on the envelope.

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the man

A Provocative Proposal

A Provocative Proposal

Today I was visited by a stranger. He knocked on my door, a stately man who chose to hide in the darkness. He told me that we had a mutual partner who thought it best the two of us meet. At first, I was off-put and questioned whether he mistook me for the previous owner. He told me “I’ve been looking for me for a long time.”

But that doesn’t mean you can come into my home. I told him that I’d need to know more about him. He made a remark about the smell. I told him that it was probably the puddle under the napkin, and he assured me that it was coming from inside the door.

Eventually and perhaps my better judgment I let the stranger in. He never took his hat or his coat off. He sat down on the couch and stared at me with these very milky eyes. His cataracts stared trough me and he told me about how he works for a canning company and that his employer thinks it might be a good idea to manufacture the whistles that I make.

I don’t consider myself to be very proud but I don’t think they could make the price worthy of that incentive. When I stated this to him, he smirked and told me that it would be worth so much more than I was accustomed to. Which made no sense to me, money is money.

the key

Then he lifted his briefcase up and opened it. He withdrew a single key and slid it across the table from me. IT was just a plain looking key with the letter M on it. I lifted it and nothing spectacular happened, and he stayed completely silent until I asked him what it went to.

“Anything you want.”

Then he closed the briefcase and spun it to face me. The key was for the briefcase, but I have no idea how he opened it. Then the man stood up, grabbed a napkin from the table and walked out, closing the door behind him.

I remember sitting there for a moment dumbstruck as to what to do next. I sat the key back on the briefcase and got a glass of water. The silence bugged me, so I turned on the TV. The election was on so I turned the local news on instead. There I heard the words I never thought could affect me.

the glass

A maiden voyage of a cruise line had set sail and of the footage, they showed my whistle was on that voyage. I sat there for a moment watching my fine work let out this awful sound. I tested the whistle; it wasn’t supposed to make that sound, and it is for certain my handiwork. As I’m watching this live feed,

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the box

Whistle in the Wind

Today I sent the whistle. But the events preceding this moment were bizarre. The whole day has just been littered with a crazy amount random occurrences. Firstly, my phone has been ringing off the hook since I finished it. The most common calls, real estate companies. I wonder if the cash deposit rang some alarm that I had money to spend.

the weather

Real Estate Agents from everywhere in America are practically begging me to move out to them. This one company even offered to pay half of real estate for me.

Then when I left, I smelled the worst thing in my life. I looked down, and that cat was in front of my neighbor’s door, dead. I knocked several times, but they wouldn’t open, I didn’t hear a single thing out of them. To be respectful, I went back in my house and unfolded a napkin on the cat.

Then I was on my way, and my car wouldn’t start. Nothing, it felt dead. I popped the hood to see what the problem was, and somebody had scrapped my car. They took the battery and cut brake lines and completely decommissioned my car.

So I had to walk. Each step I took was hell; it was so hot, and I kept sweating everywhere, but I didn’t have to walk far. My shadow stretched far ahead of me as I finally got to the post office. Then it was your average post office. Then I waited in line.

After a few people, I found my way to the front where a postal worker was paying more attention to the clock than me. I stated that it was a whistle and had to be at this place as soon as possible. He opened the package and held the whistle in his hand, and then his phone rang. He apologized and took it, then after a moment a different worker finished and apologized citing some personal emergency.

It’s none of my business what classifies as an emergency as long as the package gets sent. But this new guy was a little weird. He pulled out the whistle and told me how beautiful it was. Then it got sent, and I went home. The walk home was just uneventful and whatever, but when I got home, I heard on the news that the very same post office, was shot up in some disgruntled postal worker spree.

what's on

Just an crazy day. So now I guess it’s like any other day now. I sit here, and I watch tv. It was fun having the whistle to work on; it might be my best work yet. But what do I do in the mean time? Do I just sit here plugging away on the blog? I think I will. Or maybe I should try and talk to my neighbors again.

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beneath

Locked out of My Room

Today I was locked out of my room. It was surprising because I never even knew that my door had a lock on it. At first, I thought it was just jammed and wouldn’t budge. But I almost broke my shoulder trying to enter.

Keyhole

So I called the locksmith. The person on the phone sounded very enthusiastic, but I also think that I may have been rather clumsy. I’m relatively certain that they knocked over a cup or something.

They told me they’d be at my location by 12:30 and at 12:28 I heard a knock at my door. They were the most peculiar looking people; one had no ears, and one had no mouth. As soon as I let them in, the one with no-ears (Mark) remarked about how cold it was. The thinner one (who I’m told likes to be called Tim) nodded in approval.

They were inspecting the door when they told me to find the deed or master key. I left and came back empty handed and when I returned I saw Tim leaning into Mark’s neck, and I heard a hushed whisper. He must have had something in his eye because there was a small red part in the center of his eye.

Then the door slid away from Marks’ hands as his eyes slowly fixated to mine. A calm, cold spread it’s way from the floor up. Bathing us in the coldness. A small cat slid itself into our presence and skirted down the stairs. When I turned the corner to see where it had gone, I saw it sitting in front of the door. It’s rear firmly places on the red tape of the front door closet.

Down Stairs

When I approached the kitty to let it out of my house, I noticed it was blind. The cat stared right at me though and opened its mouth as if to speak, but no noise left. Then, as if it heard something it scurried back up the stairs again. The residential locksmiths stepped down in sync from the stairs and told me that they hadn’t seen the cat come back up, that it must be with me.

Then the most bizarre thing happened. I withdrew my wallet to pay them, and they told me it was free and only told me one thing. “Terminar la bocina.” Then they left, I have no idea what that means but I’m just happy to be able to enter my room again, though I don’t know if I will because it’s so cold!

So I bundled up as best as I could, and I went back to my room. There it was sitting on my desk, the little whistle I’m working on. Standing right on top where I left it. I grabbed my polish and I got back to work.

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A Draft from my Closet

I like the house that I live in, but I found a peculiar thing earlier. I felt this chill reaching out to me from the front door closet. When I entered there, it was freezing. Like my breath was showing, and it was the coldest place I’ve been in since Wisconsin in February. I investigated, and the place was airtight. There is no place that is especially cold in the way that would hint at being the location of the cold itself.

The faucet

So I did the only thing that I know how. I called around and asked for help. Eventually settling on this one local company for help, which they offered up graciously. When the worker arrived, I had a hard time speaking to them because I don’t speak Spanish. But he said something about Gato? Then he proceeded to sneeze all throughout the service.

When the worker came in, he did a general overview before checking the closet. He said something about it being very cold, but he had a hard time speaking, probably because of the cat. But he asked me for a glass of water and then shut the door. I went to grab the water and took my time. But it was strange. The faucet almost wouldn’t work. The water just came out very slow.

I could barely finish a glass, and I wasn’t going to offer a guest a drink without preparing myself one too, so I had to stand there and fill up another glass of water, and it probably took about two minutes while I was filling up the glasses. Then when I got to the closet, he was gone! He left his bag and just left. I don’t understand; I didn’t even hear him leave.

To make up for it, I’ve just decided to check through his bag and was able to find some red duct tape. So I just took the duct tape and sealed off the door, made sure none of that cold air could escape. From there I just went back to what I usually do. I sat down in my chair and stared at the manilla envelope. I haven’t opened it yet; I’m not sure that I want to. Maybe tomorrow.

the envelope

EDIT: Okay, so I decided to open the envelope. There are two pages, one is written in something presumably Arabic, and the other is in plain English. Brass Whistle, Low B. It’s hard to be clearer than that. So I just have to make it happen, also in the manilla envelope was probably half a million dollars. But that’s pretty standard at this point; I only make a whistle every couple of months, and I’ve only just recently started to make these. I had no idea that boat whistles would be that expensive otherwise I would have jumped into this profession much sooner. 

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Ice Cubes in Dark Rum

I’ve always said that my sister might be a gorgon. Her thick, gross hair always tended to be ropey and every time she would stare at me I felt this cold snap of danger. However, when she calls me and asks me if I’ve heard of a company called Aqua hair extensions and their human hair tape in extensions. I simply made gargling sounds until she hung up the phone on me.

the tub

It’s an old joke that we used to do because when she was born she was supposed to have a twin but she never made it. Something about the umbilical cord, we don’t talk about it. But I guess indirectly referencing it is a good way for her to cope with the situations of her life.

I wish I could talk to her about it though because when I was younger, she would hang out in the corner and just sort of talk to herself. And not like quiet whispering talk like how movies like to show. She would just sit and have full on conversations with herself while staring right at me. But she would never be talking to me, and when I think about it, I don’t know if she was ever actually staring at me because her eyes were white. I couldn’t quite see her pupils.

Anyway, it’s irrelevant, she’s trapped up in Wisconsin right now while I’m down here, thumbing this post in through my WordPress app. I’m living the life; I have to open that envelope and the money will start pouring in. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to work yet. It’s been a few months since I made my last whistle.

It’s funny; I’ll receive these strange requests for whistles usually from foreign countries. The last time I sent a whistle out was in February. It was a replacement whistle for a boat called the Azule or something like that. It was shipped to Indonesia, and I was paid by the usual broker. I’ve never met the man but the money is good, so I’m happy.

cats eyes

As for me, life is going pretty good right now. I just get to hang out and live my life. I’m going to go back later and probably have a drink to myself and try to watch a show or something. I’ll always have to turn my tv way up because my neighbors cat just end up being so loud.

Still, I see them streaming in there. I don’t know how many cats must call that place home, but it sounds like there are hundreds of them. And you know what the most bizarre part? It never smells like cat. You know how some places have that cat smell? This always smells nice, like lavender or something. They must spend a fortune on air fresheners to keep this place smelling so good.

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Cold in My Apartment

I got to meet my neighbors today. This old lady and her sister live together. They told me that a few of my boxes were left in their care and that if I wanted them, I would have to “come and get them.” So I went next door probably five minutes later and had to look around their house for it to their consent. They were both wearing matching clothes and drinking lemonade in opposite hands. They had around ten cats, all Persian, running around and scratching me while I had to look for my boxes.

they are

After about 10 minutes of this, all in complete silence, I find out that the boxes had blankets tossed over them and were being used as regular furniture. I folded the blanket and left it on the couch next to a cat grooming itself. One of the old ladies nodded while the other shook her head. But they both took a sip from the lemonade. It took me close to another ten minutes just to escort the boxes out of the apartment. All the while cats kept streaming in from the outside whenever I opened the doors. No cats ever left.

When I finally got back to my apartment, which shouldn’t have been a journey considering it’s right next door, I had missed a call. I didn’t know that I had a land line connected, yet somehow I had both a phone with service and a missed call. So I called the number back and at first, all I heard was heavy breathing. Then it was someone saying my mother wanted to speak to me, so I said dial her through, and then the voice simply said that she was about to call me right now. Then my cell phone went off.

I answered the phone and heard the muffled complaints of my mother. She was either being smothered while she spoke or she was eating cheese again. She loves Wisconsin with all of her heart; that’s what the cardiologist told me anyway. After I had got done getting chewed out for never calling and also not inviting her to her new home and not telling her that I don’t life where I used to live, I was able to finally hangup on her. But this only happened after I reassured here that it was all very intentional.

Speak to me

Then after all that time I finally got to sit in my large, mostly vacant house all by myself. On the glass table in front of me rests an unopened manila envelope. It’s another contract to make a whistle. All around me are boxes from the move that I have yet to unpack, now with two additional ones covered in fur from animals I don’t own. I sneezed.

So aside from the bizarre meetings, strange phone calls and apparent allergies, I’ve had a good day overall.

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My Time Whistling in Sunny Isles Miami

a whistle, i made thisHello. My name is Alan Macey, and this is my blog. I sell whistles. But not the whistles you would think. I sell whistles to boats. I’ve been working on my craft for years. When I was little, I would widdle holes into sticks and then find a way to turn it into a whistle. It wasn’t till I was a few years older that my mother, Taylor, told me how gross it was, and I stopped, for a time.

I’ve loved whistles all of my life. I set out to be a great whistle salesman where I’m from up in Wisconsin. But there’s not much use for them there. I make custom whistles, usually for coaches or factories. But once you’ve made them, you’ve made them all. My sister sells belts and between the automotive industry and men with increasing waistlines, she’s enjoyed bashing me at family events.

So after having years of being tormented by my mother and my sister, Jean. I decided to move away. I contacted The Realtors at Brosda and Bentley and they had a house arranged for me. Small scale, for them, large scale for those not in the whistle industry. One of my favorites of the properties were The Acqualina Mansions, and trust me, if I had the money to rent a single night there, I would have. It might sound like I’m joking, but I spend a month creating the whistles that end up being the iconic sound for millions of peoples adventures. The time has to be right and yet unique. No two whistles can sound the same.

So I’m new in town down here, and I have no intent on going back to Wisconsin or the snow. I hate the snow, and I love the sand. I also love the heat, the way it feels on my face, the way it stings my hands when I’ve been working with the iron for too long. It’s been something I’ve dreamt of forever.

im a pawnAs for Miami itself, it’s alright. There are plenty of beautiful women here, but the drivers are awful. There are plenty of good places to eat, but very few things that agree with my stomach. I do like that there is plenty of time for sports and activities, but I don’t think I can enjoy the heat for that long. Overall, I’m happy to be here. I may need some time to adjust to the permanent summer of Florida, but I prefer it. Let it become my season, let the sand become part of me, let the world surround me.

Let the ocean splash around me and let my body be taken from it. I want to be absorbed into this; I want who I am to erode in the dunes. I want my northern feet to be changed by the southern sun. I’m tired, and I’m filled with hate for where I came from.

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