Preparing for Another cold, wet Melancholy 5k

Botendaddy Manor Estates is a sprawling cliff side estate with eerie, dark woods that sits perched high atop a foreboding mountain ridge in the ancient town of Markleysburg, above a lonely, ethereal, melancholy, misty riverbend


The endless sky

The old Victorian house rises amidst the trees and can not be perceived from the main road, well hidden it lies behind an old orchard mixed with giant deciduous trees, maples and oaks.


The grounds of the Estate

I was getting to be bed early so I might run the 5k in the cold morning rain. I received a long and heartfelt electronic mail correspondence from the librarian. She had gone back to greater Washington, back to her real life.

I sat at the end of a long cherrywood table, my daughter at the other, as the servants attended to our evening repast.

I looked at the Librarian’s email on my wireless telephone, as my daughter was equally focused on her Marconian device.


The Mansion

Our dinners had become quiet, empty and sad affairs, casting an endless pallor across the once joyous house. Only the voiceless movements of the staff could be heard as I silently read the correspondence.

‘Mlle. M. Johnson


The Twentieth of MAY, The year of our risen Lord, this being the Two Thousand and Sixteenth,

‘My Dearest Beloved Botendaddy, I hope this correspondence finds you well.’

‘May I thank you again for our most delightful and affectionate interlude. May I confess, most ashamedly, that I had not theretofore experienced any form of male, physical affection upon my person since the 3rd of October, in the year 2007.

Nine years of stoic abstinence is an eternity. My fear of physical intimacy, having grown to a trepidation, yea terror, so great due to my feelings of feminine inadequacy, and concern about the proper functioning and capabilities of my most intimate womanly apparatus, that I would not have been at all sorely afflicted or disappointed, had I never again known the delicate conjugal delights.

May I be so forward as to say that for a woman of my high social station, the seemingly endless hours of your hulking, undulating, perspiring and foul-smelling, rotting corpse devoured my innocent person with such vulgarity, such vile and inhuman depravity, like vicious hyenas ravenously attacking a  soft, defenseless baby gazelle, that I was so befouled, degraded and robbed of my barest sense of dignity as a human being, let alone as a member of the fairer sex, such that I have now lost all fear of the human intertwining.

Yea, cruel, sensual son of Eros! Thou knowest not that a woman’s delicate form is a rare gift to a hirsute and crude male! O! savage, primitive creature who is named the Botendaddy! You have so despoiled the deepest most intimate recesses of my person with your otherworldly, demonic masculine fluids that you have forever freed me of my proper Victorian inhibitions, for which I shall be forever in your debt.

That I consented to such an encounter only demonstrates the utter depths of desperation and despair to which I sank, to sacrifice myself upon the hideous altar of the evil, eternal Yog Sothoth! Yea, surrendered, like fair Andromeda of mythic lore, to the vile, loathesome, drooling, Lovecraftian goblin that is named the Botendaddy! No amount of prayer, nor spiritual or physical cleansing can ever relieve me of the satanic contamination of my delicate senses and my once pure physical form!

I pray we may meet again on this earth when we both find ourselves in loftier and more joyous circumstances, but until such time, I must bid you, a fond Adieu.

Please agree to accept, this, the expression of my deepest and most profound and distinguished  affections and sentiments,

Your most devoted and loving Servant,

Mlle M. Johnson



The view from the ancient portal

The butler poured my after dinner libation in the most delicate, fluted glass. My daughter excused herself from the table. I listened to the great clock methodically ticking as it did every day since the year of  our lord 17 hundred and 97. The great clock could be heard above the crash of thunder and heavy rain outside.

Then was then a most imprudent knock on the massive door. The butler excused himself to answer.

I arose, as was my habit, to welcome visitors or lost weary travelers of the night. But there, in the heavy rain, with bright bursts of lightning framed in the background of the giant archway, stood my immortal beloved, drenched librarian, having driven five hours to return unannounced. Ah the smell of it! Oh Zeus, what a gift the gods bestow!

Naturally, I could not have been more pleased and surprised to gaze again upon her lovely countenance and I invited her into my humble abode. My female servants, without requiring my orders,  tended to the poor girl’s soaking wet condition.


The view from the old tower

Peace be the Botendaddy


About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
This entry was posted in Dining, Exercise, Food, Uncategorized, Weather and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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