Tales From The Park-Side is a series of horrific short stories inspired by places and artifacts that can be found inside a certain little theme park in central Florida. These stories are written by members of the Orlando area entertainment and theme park industry and were curated by Audrey Brown-Willaims.
"My Beloved Jord"
by Tiffany Grimm
With a startled gasp, Enora shot up in bed, her small hand flew to her bosom. Ragged breathing filled the room until Enora felt her heart rate slow. As she lay back, she glanced over to the other side of the bed. An undented pillow lay – pristine and unused for the last 6 months.
Her eyes wandered to the picture on the bedside table. Ah Jord, her beloved husband of fifty years. Enora’s eyes misted as she remembered their wedding day. She, clad in her grandmother’s gown, and Jord, dressed in his Sunday best. Fifty years later, in the photo by the bed, she could see traces of the young man he used to be. Face scrubbed and beaming from the picture across to her, Jord smiled as she lay back down and drifted to sleep, thinking of him as she nodded off.
Ah Jord, how she loved him.
They married young. Enora was happy running her own home. When the tantalizing smell of fresh bread filled the house, so did her sense of accomplishment. The same as when the last tiny stitch was placed in a multipatterned quilt to adorn their bed.
Jord was many things, but a handyman he was not. He worked hard at the little bank in town. He was reasonably good with numbers but hopeless around the house. Oh, he always tried his best but somehow the window shutters never hung quite straight - letting in a chilly breeze on winter evenings. The back door didn’t quite close properly, allowing all the neighborhood cats to wander through her clean kitchen.
Enora laughed gaily at the memory of how angry she’d become with all those little cat paws pouncing on her bread dough or nibbling at the still-warm dinner on the kitchen table. The memory of frigid winter nights as the air whistled through the windows – icy tendrils slithering under the bed covers. Oh, how she would rail at Jord in the dead of the night. Not that he cared. He slept the sleep of the dead.
Ah Jord, how she loved him.
Enora thought fondly of her husband as she plucked runner beans from the vine. Bumbling along in the garden, Jord would weed, his large mustache trembling like the bees dancing around their vegetable plants. The fact that he pulled more vegetables than weeds was another matter entirely. He did love eating the vegetables even if he couldn’t discern a tomato plant from a weed. Even with large plump tomatoes hanging off the stems.
Ah Jord, how she loved him.
Or how he tended to the woodstove in winter. Off in his own world, the fire either died a sputtering slow death or Jord would ply the fire with so much wood it suffocated on itself. “Oh, silly Jord!” Enora reminisced.
Or how he would “chop” wood out back for their woodstove. Standing in their little back yard, arms straining from the lack of real physical labor, he would bring down the ax with a resounding thunk, missing the wood entirely of course, but oh how he tried. Enora never wanted Jord to feel underappreciated. Her eyes glinting, she would watch him struggle, fighting her own urge to push him out of the way and do the job herself. Enora was handy with the ax, cutting most of the wood to heat their little home. It really was a surprise the day she went out to help him with the latest woodpile. A surprise when his confused eyes turned to her as she raised the ax high above her head. Surprise was Jord’s last look as the ax came whistling down upon his head.
Ah Jord, how she loved him.
Loved him to death.
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