Mystery & Suspense - Daily Short Stories

A Quicksilver Cassandra copy

Listen Ad Free https://www.solgood.org - Listen to hundreds of audiobooks, thousands of short stories, and meditative sounds.

Duration:: 13m
Broadcast on:: 22 Jun 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

Owning a rental property sounds like a dream until you realize how much work goes into getting it ready. Determine a competitive rent price, market the property, schedule the showing screen, tenants drop the lease at a rent collection, handle maintenance request, maintenance application. Whew! Sound complicated? Renner's Warehouse is here to take the hard work off your rental to-do list. Qualify tenants, check, rent collection, check, maintenance coordination, you got it. Go to Rennerswearhouse.com for a free rental analysis to find out how much your home can rent for. Or call 303-974-9444, because from now on, the only thing you need on your to-do list is to call Renner's warehouse. Lucky Land Slots asking people what's the weirdest place you've gotten lucky? Lucky? In line with the deli, I guess? Uh-huh, in my dentist's office. More than once, actually. Do I have to say? Yes, you do. In the car before my kids' PTA meeting? Really? Yes. Excuse me, what's the weirdest place you've gotten lucky? I never win and tell. Well, there you have it. You can get lucky anywhere, playing at luckylandslots.com. Play for free right now. Are you feeling lucky? No purchase necessary. VGW Group, would everybody buy law 18+ terms and conditions apply? A Quick Silver Cassandra by John Kendrick Banks. It was altogether queer, and Jingleberry, to this day, does not entirely understand it. He had examined his heart as carefully as he knew how, and had arrived at the entirely reasonable conclusion that he was in love. He had every symptom of that malady. When Miss Marion Chapman was within range of his vision, there was no room for anyone else there. He suffered from that peculiar, optical condition, which enabled him to see but one thing at a time when she was present. And she was that one thing, which is probably the reason why, in his mind's eye, she was the only woman in the world. For Marion was ever present before Jingleberry is mental optic. He had also examined, as thoroughly as he could, in hypothesis, the heart of this, only woman, and he had, or thought he had, which amots to the same thing, reason to believe that she reciprocated his affection. She certainly seemed glad always when he was about. She called him by his first name, and sometimes quarreled with him as she quarreled with no one else. And if that wasn't a sign of love in woman, then Jingleberry had studied the sex all his years, and they were thirty-two, for nothing. In short, Marion behaved so like a sister to him that Jingleberry, knowing how dreams and women go by contrarians, was absolutely sure that a sister was just the reverse from that relationship which in her heart of hearts she was willing to assume toward him, and he was happy in consequence. Believing this, it was not at all strange that he should make up his mind to propose marriage to her, though, like many other men, he was somewhat chicken-hearted in coming to the point. Four times had he called upon Marion for the sole purpose of asking her to become his wife, and four times had he led up to the point, and then talked about something else. What quality is it in a man that makes a coward of him, in the presence of one he considers his dearest friend, is not within the province of this narrative to determine, but Jingleberry had it in its most virulent form. He had often got so far along in his proposal as Marion, will you, will you, and there he had often stopped, contenting himself with such commonplace conclusions as go to the matinee with me tomorrow, or ask your father for me if he thinks the stock market is likely to straighten soon, and other amazing substitutes for the words he so ardently desired yet feared to utter. But this afternoon, the one upon which the extraordinary events about to be narrated took place, Jingleberry had called, resolved not to be balked in his determination to learn his fate. He had come to purpose, and the purpose he would, Rouette Colium. His confidence in a successful termination to his suit had been reinforced that very morning, by the receipt of a note from Miss Chapman, asking him to dine with her parents and herself that evening, and to accompany them after dinner to the opera. Surely that meant a great deal, and Jingleberry conceived that the time was ripe for a blushing yes to his long, deferred question. So he was there, in the Chapman parlor, waiting for the young lady to come down and become the recipient of the interesting interrogatory, as it is called in some sections of Massachusetts. "I'll ask her the first thing," said Jingleberry, buttoning his prince Albert, as though to impart a possible needed stiffening to his backbone. "She will say yes, and then I shall enjoy the dinner and the opera so much more. Uh-huh. I wonder if I am pale. I feel sort of—uh—there's a mirror. That will tell." Jingleberry walked to the mirror, an oval, guilt-framed mirror, such as was very much in vogue fifty years ago, for which reason alone, no doubt, it was now admitted to the gold and white parlor of the house of Chapman. "Blessed things these mirrors," said Jingleberry, gazing at the reflection of his face. "So reassuring. I'm not at all pale. Quite the contrary. I'm red as sunset. Good omen, that. The sun is setting on my bachelor days. And my scarf is crooked. Ah! The ejaculation was one of pleasure, for pictured in the mirror Jingleberry saw the form of Marion, entering the room through the portières. "How do you do, Marion, bid admiring myself in the glass?" he said, turning to greet her. "I—uh—" Then he stopped, as well he might, for he addressed no one. Miss Chapman was nowhere to be seen. "Dear me," said Jingleberry, rubbing his eyes in astonishment. "How extraordinary! I surely thought I saw her—why, I did see her—that is, I saw her reflection in the gla—ha-ha-ha! She caught me gazing at myself there, and has hidden." He walked to the door and drew the portières side, and looked into the hall. There was no one there. He searched every corner of the hall and the dining-room at its end, and then returned to the parlor, but it was still empty, and then occurred the most strangely unaccountable event in his life. As he looked about the parlor, he, for the second time, found himself before the mirror. But the reflection therein, though it was of himself, was of himself with his back turned to his real self, as he stood gazing amazesly into the glass. And besides this, although Jingleberry was alone in the real parlor, the reflection of the dainty-room showed that there he was not so, foreseeded in her accustomed graceful attitude, in the reflected armchair, was nothing less than the counterfeit presentation of Marian Chapman herself. It was a wonder Jingleberry's eyes did not fall out of his head, he stared so. What a situation it was, to be sure, to stand there and see in the glass a scene which, as far as he could observe, had no basis in reality, and how interesting it was for Jingleberry to watch himself going through the form of chatting pleasantly there in the mirror's steps, with the woman he loved. It almost made him jealous, though, the reflected Jingleberry was so entirely independent of the real Jingleberry. The jealousy soon gave way to consternation, for, to the wandering suitor, the independent reflection was beginning to do that for which he himself had come. In other words, there was a proposal going on there in the glass, and Jingleberry enjoyed the novel sensation of seeing how he himself would look when passing through a similar ordeal. All together, however, it was not as pleasing as most novelties are, for there were distinct signs in the face of the mirrored Marian, that the mirrored Jingleberry's words were distasteful to her, and that the proposition he was making was not one she would entertain under any circumstances. She kept shaking her head, and the more she shook it, the more the glazed Jingleberry seemed to implore her to be his. Finally, Jingleberry saw his quick silver counterpart fall upon his knees before Marian of the glass, and hold out his arms and hands toward her in an attitude of prayerful despair, whereupon the girl sprang to her feet, stamped her left foot furiously upon the floor, and pointed the unwelcome lover to the door. Jingleberry was fairly staggered. What could be the meaning of so extraordinary a freak of nature? Surely it must be prophetic. Fate was kind enough to warn him in advance, no doubt; otherwise it was a trick. And why should she stoop to play so paltry a trick as that upon him? Surely fate would not be so petty. Now, it was a warning. The mirror had been so affected by some supernatural agency that it divined and reflected that which was to be, instead of confining itself, to what Jingleberry called "simular tenuity." It led instead of following or acting coincidentally with the reality. And it was the part of wisdom, he thought, for him to yield to its suggestion and retreat. And as he thought this, he heard the sweet soft voice behind him. "I hope you haven't got tired of waiting, Tom," it said, and, turning, Jingleberry saw the unquestionable real Marian standing in the doorway. "No," he answered shortly, "I have had a pleasant, a very entertaining ten minutes; but I must hurry along, Marian," he added, "I only came to tell you that I have a frightful headache, and I can't very well manage to come to dinner or go to the opera with you tonight." "Why, Tom," pouted Marian, "I am awfully disappointed. I had counted on you, and now my whole evening will be spoiled. Don't you think you could rest a little while, and then come?" "Well, I—I want to, Marian," said Jingleberry, "but to tell the truth, I—I really am afraid I am going to be ill. I've had such a strange experience this afternoon. I—tell me what it was," suggested Marian sympathetically, and Jingleberry did tell her what it was. He told her the whole story from beginning to end, what he had come for, how he happened to look in the mirror, and what he saw there, and Marian listened attentively to every word he said. She laughed once or twice, and when he had done she reminded him that mirrors have the habit of reversing everything, and somehow or other, Jingleberry's headache went away, and—and—well, everything went. The End of A Quick Silver Cassandra by John Kendrick Bangs Owning a rental property sounds like a dream, until you realize how much work goes into getting it ready. Determine a competitive rent price, market the property, schedule the showing screen, tenant's draft at the lease at a rent collection, handle maintenance request, maintain communication—phew! Sound complicated? Runners' warehouse is here to take the hard work off your rental to-do list. Qualify tenants? Check. Rent collection? Check. Maintenance coordination? You got it. Go to Runnerswarehouse.com for a free rental analysis to find out how much your home can rent for. Or call 303-974-9444, because from now on, the only thing you need on your to-do list is to call Runners' warehouse. Okay, round two. Name something that's not boring. Laundry? Ooh! A book club! Computer Solitaire, huh? Ah, sorry, we were looking for Chumba Casino. That's right, Chumba Casino.com has over 100 casino-style games, join today, and play for free for your chance to redeem some serious prizes. Chumb@Casino.com No more disaster. Over with the Bylaw, 18+ starts a condition to apply. See website for details.