IN SEARCH OF FRANK MILLER: a sIN SEARCH OF FRANK MILLER: a semi true ghost story
I still remember the day when fate presented me with the opportunity that would eventually lead to my murder. We were living in a three bedroom house that Papa and his friends built in less than a month. Each man happened to be skilled in the fine arts of carpentry and architecture. Despite the fact that they were each drinking four to six beers a day, the house rose swiftly from the ground up. A mixture of the detailed, ornate layout and Mama’s beautiful flower and vegetable garden caused plenty of envy among the residents of Woodville. Pity it’s now decomposing under the murky waters of Lake Texoma.
I awoke the morning of my journey, to the mid-morning sun pouring through the homemade linen curtains in the bedroom I shared with my younger brother. I could smell the lingering aromas of fried bacon and fresh-brewed coffee. My siblings had awoken earlier and left for school. As usual,
FINDING FRANK--PrologueIN SEARCH OF FRANK MILLER: a semi true ghost story
Lake Texoma-Present Day
They say that when a person passes on, their spirit is given two portals that connect them to the world of the living: the place where their soul left their body, and their grave. I chose the first.
The old town of Woodville, Oklahoma once stood in between Texas and Oklahoma. My parents moved us there after I graduated high school from Kentucky Town, Texas. Papa went to work on the railroad, and demanded I get a job as well. I would be turning twenty-one in only a few months. Papa also liked to remind me that I was lazy, and when he was my age he had already married my Mama, and she had me. Oh, and he happened to be one of the most profitable farmers in our small town. That seemed nice, but I didn’t care for a farming lifestyle.
In the early nineteen-forties, Woodville was submerged underwater when the Red River was dammed to create Lake Texoma. By then, my parents had settled in Platter, Oklah
Don't Ever Do It Again*See end notes for historical accuracies.
Setting: Miami Beach 1942
Clyde stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his lower body. His friend, Guy, stood in front of the mirror carefully rearranging his hair. They had to act fast. Clean up, pull some clothes on, and quickly leave the bungalow before Eddie woke up.
Two days ago, Guy decided to set them up on double dates with a pair of twin models.
"Beautiful women with long, blonde hair and Ava Gardner figures," Guy whispered to Clyde as they brushed their teeth. "You need a break from Eddie. Hell, you spend every waking minute with him, and then you go home to your house and the two of you "
Clyde cut him off. "I know. I've never been with a woman." He screwed the cap back on the toothpaste and placed it back on the shelf. "Eddie's never even allowed me to look at one. He needs me."
"Does he know you like men and women?" Guy smiled.
Clyde frowned and pulled on a long-s
Are You Now or Have You...Are You Now or Have You
Today I started reading a biography about Roy Cohn, and it said something like several people believed he had an affair with Joe McCarthy, but there is no evidence to support this. I also took the rumors that Roy and Hoover would attend orgies at The Plaza Hotel, and created this short little story. Warning: the last part can get graphic.)
Parings: Hoover/Tolson & McCarthy/Cohn
Place: Hoover and Tolson's house in Washington
"Your bedroom is upstairs next to ours."
Roy placed his two suitcases on the tiled foyer floor and gazed up the stairs. Edgar and Clyde stood silently by the front door. Outside, he could hear Joe's limo as it rambled down the street. An eerie sensation filled the air as he was dropped off. Joe couldn't stay, not even for a minute. He had to be at work. Roy had been sent to live, against his wishes, with Edgar and Clyde until this whole thing blew over. He couldn't stay at his mother's house in New York; it wasn't safe. He co