Sunday, August 21, 2011
everything is hard to list, impossible to categorize
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 1
Everything is hard to list, impossible to categorize. I work at the goodwill and when we take in goods I keep a complete inventory. I must look carefully for people hide things behind their dresser drawers or underneath and inside of toy chests.
Yesterday I found several letters, handwritten in blue ink, on creamy thick stationary; explaining what happened to Mrs. Purlson the last eight years of her life.
There are no markings on the small oak vanity that the letters from Mrs. Purlson were hiding in and no dates on the letters. Mrs. Purlson could have been from anywhere in the United States or Canada or Great Britain; except maybe Quebec, for all the letters are in English. Mrs. Purlson's husband was planing to kill his wife she suspected, and in the letters she tells of her eight year ordeal to understand and predict his motivation and behavior. As she went about her ordinary life Mrs. Purlson would write a few lines furthering the mystery of why Mr. Purlson would want to do away with his wife of sixteen years marriage.
The letters end smoothly on a warm day in June where ever the Purlson's lived at. We will never know what happened to Mrs. Purlson, murder or just mystery for I have been unable to locate her online.
I keep the letters and reread them now and then just for something to do on my breaks from work here at the Goodwill in Reston, Illinois.
end part 1
Posted by edward pritchard at 5:43 AM Labels: mystery
part 2
Sunday, August 21, 2011
everything is hard to list, impossible to categorize-part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dad got me this job at JC Penny's. Nine years I have been coming in, always on time, never talking back to the bosses. That's no small accomplishment because I am a real screw up, drinking, fighting and anything else to mess up my life. Dad stuck his neck out to get me this job. At least with his own value system because Dad thought a lot of JC Penny's where he worked for thirty years and then retired and arranged for me to take over his job as maintenance. No one thought I would make it a month, let alone nine years.
On my breaks, three times in eight hours, excluding a half hour for lunch, I take twelve minutes to stand behind the store and smoke. The back of the building is in a very old strip mall and faces the railroad tracks here in Nantes, Oregon. When I was twelve or thirteen I would stand back here with my Dad on his breaks and have to tell him if I had been kicked out of school for fighting that day or just flicked class. Mom would send me down on my bike and Dad would have twelve minutes to hear my story and tell me my punishment.
About a year ago I tried to stop smoking. My new girlfriend's Janet's idea. Neither worked out; new girlfriend or stopping smoking.
As I stood on my break back then a year ago trying to stop smoking I needed something to do with my hands to take my mind off of cigaretes. I would pry loose the faded white mortar betweeen the bricks on the back of the JC Penny's building. That's how I found the letters written by Mr. Purlson.
I never found out who Mr. Purlson was or where he was from. Of course I looked at public records to try to find him here in Nantes and around Oregon; but I never found the identity of Manford Purlson the man in the stack of letters I found who thought his wife was planning to kill him.
The letters are hand written in blue ink on old stationary and cover a three year period. They were in a small box sealed up in the back brick wall behind the JC Penny where I work here in Nantes, Oregon. Manford Purlson writes every now and then about his fears his wife is plotting to kill him. There are no dates on the letters nor is a location mentioned in the letters. My cousin, who works at the library couldn't locate either Mr or Mrs. Purlson so it's a mystery to me what happened to Manford Purlson. I often read the letters on my smoking break here at the JC Penny's as I stand behind the store and watch the trains go by. It's nice to have something to think about besides my mess of a life here in Oregon. Somewhere someone in the United States knows what happened to Manford Purlson and one day I am going to find out for myself.
end part 2
Posted by edward pritchard at 10:26 AM Labels: mystery part 2
part 3
Sunday, August 21, 2011
everything is hard to list, impossible to categorize-PART 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
Urban myths continued:
Urban myths and legends: part two husbands who plot to kill their wives, and vice versa
Another interesting urban myth is the plight of poor Mrs. Purlson. Her husband wants to kill her and only you can rescue her. Or, is it too late; the deed is done and Manford Purlson, the husband has already gotten away with murder. He killed his wife. You have found her secret letters but you don't know where they lived to report the murders. In other variations of the story you have found the letters but aren't sure if the murder just happened, or was it one hundred years ago?
Typically the story involves someone finding secret letters. Written in blue ink by hand on fine stationary paper. Often the finder has been duped and he or she really finds letters in an old brick fence or in the rafters of a condemned house. Of course the papers have been planted by someone to perpetuate the urban myth. Police, librarians and reporters cringe when the crime is reported. Murder! Across America from the early 1970's to now over six hundred killings of Mrs. Purlson has been dutifully reported.
Sometimes Mr Purlson gets his revenge. The the letters found are from Mr Purlson, Manford, and he fears his wife is plotting to do him in soon. Married couples beware! You may suffer the plight of poor Mrs. Purlson or occassionally perhaps that of Manford Purlson. Your spouse is plotting to kill you. Proceed with caution, you may be married to a murderer.
end
part 3
Urban myths and legends: part two husbands who plot to kill their wives, and vice versa
Posted by edward pritchard at 11:27 PM 0 comments Labels: mystery part 3
part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Streetsboro Tatler
your news, and only your news
by lallie junko
Chief Johnson of our Streetsboro police department has solved one of America's longest running unsolved murders. At least he thinks he has. You be the Judge. Is Manford Purlson a guilty murdered? Or, is Manford the victim; a henpecked husband who is summoned in times of stress as a symbol of our secret fears.
Detective Johnson of Ravenna Road has been chief of the five man Streetsboro police department for five years. Previous he was thirty eight years detective Cleveland [Ohio] CPD. He is also an amateur psychologist it seems and believes that the urban legend known as who killed Mrs. Purlson is solvable.
Citing the work of Carl Jung, the famous psychologist from Europe and former student of Sigmund Freud our Chief Johnson believes that the personna and legend of Mrs. Purlson is perpetuated by Americans in times of national stress.
Typically, a stash of hidden hand written letters are found buried away in an old hollow tree or attic wall by an innocent victim of a prank. Someone has planted the letters of course but the finder doesn't know or believe that and upon latter evidence to the bogus authenticity of the letters; the finder refuses to see the hoax and continues to fight to rescue poor Mrs. Purlson. Mrs. Purlson has been murdered by her husband, Manford and he has gotten away with the crime. The original finders of the letters then contacts police frantically looking for justice for the missing Mrs. Purlson.
In his soon to be published book on the subject, " Mrs. Purlson Everything is hard to list, impossible to categorize" Chief Johnson exposes the psychology behind the Urban legend of Mrs. Purlson and acquaints the reader to the work of Carl Jung on hidden psychological irrational forces that govern and dominate the thinking of even the most logical Americans.
Chief's Johnson's third book is a good read. Try it. Help rescue Mrs. Purlson. Book available at Hattie Stevens used books, seventh street Streetsboro and Main street Ravenna.
end part 4
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