#evelyn the inky angel

[zablife]

Dark Games (Part 1)

Arthur Shelby x Evelyn (OC) x Finn Shelby

Summary: (Dark AU) When power hungry Arthur is left to run the Eden Club unchecked, he forces his women into dangerous games with the characters of the London underworld. What happens when Finn interferes with his newest girl?

Moodboard credit: the lovely @shelbydelrey

Author's Note: Written for @shelbydelrey Peaky x Lana Festival. Inspired by "Dark But Just a Game" by Lana Del Rey.

Warnings: mention of violence, weapons, mention of blood, ethnic slur, drug use, drinking, pregnancy, mention of abortion, assault

The faces of all the women Evelyn knew who suffered or simply vanished, flashed through her mind as she slept, each one reaching for her as though she might gain purchase. But they all slipped from her grasp like sand, leaving her defeated to face a mirror. Her own blank expression stared back at her as Arthur’s large hand encircled her neck. His mustache tickling the delicate skin beneath her ear as he whispered, “Evie, my pretty little fool.” As she turned to face him, the glass shattered and he was gone. Stooping to gather the pieces, a large, jagged shard sliced her palm until the blood ran down her fingertips and dripped onto the floor. It collected in a puddle at her feet which quickly turned to inky blackness all around her, creating a suffocating fear. She awoke with a start, covered in sweat and heaving for breath. It had been the same dream since she left London. 

Evelyn could recall the evening the Peaky Blinders took over the Eden Club well. It had been a a night ruled by violent chaos. Chairs and tables were overturned as patrons ran from the hoodlums who produced flying fists and razors. Mario was stabbed in the face with a broken bottle trying to stop them. He held a few of them off long enough for some of the girls to hide, including Evelyn.

She took cover backstage, watching with wide eyes as a tall lanky man approached the microphone declaring the establishment was now under new management, "By order of the Peaky Blinders." She readied the knife she hid in her garter belt, thinking of a time when she laughed at the prospect of needing one in a place like this. “I’m not going to change,” she told herself when she’d first arrived, but the girl waiting to stab anyone who came near her begged to challenge that notion.

It was there that Arthur Shelby found her and quickly disarmed her. “Who might you be, angel?” he asked with a devilish smirk, wild hair drooping over his eyes in a rakish manner and and blood dripping from his brow. Pressed close to his lean muscle, there was something about him that intrigued her. It was an unexpected attraction that overwhelmed her senses.

“I’m Evelyn," she replied breathily. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

“Thought I’d made it clear, love. I’m a Shelby. Name’s Arthur,” he said proudly.

“You’re bleeding, Arthur. Will you let me help you?” Evelyn asked, venturing a hand to brush the hair from his forehead. Arthur leaned into her touch slightly, his rapid breathing slowing momentarily. His eyes locked onto her as though he were assessing her intentions. When he found nothing but sincerity lying beneath the offer, he accepted and she lead him downstairs hand in hand. 

They didn’t speak a word as she found the items necessary to clean his wound and care for him. Arthur watched her graceful movements with awe, something akin to peaceful reverie coming over his face as she sat before him. She quickly realized how touch starved he was when she brushed his face with a cool cloth and felt pity for him despite the acts of violence she’d witnessed earlier. 

When she finished her work, she sat back and observed his now calm features asking, “Can I ask why? What does this place mean to you?” She waited to see if her questions raised his ire, but found him more than willing to talk with her. 

“We don’t mean you no harm. It’s time for a change is all,” he said, going on to explain that the blinders were expanding their territory and what she had seen was nothing more than a show of their power. Darby Sabini was being run out and he would now be in charge.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, love” Arthur assured her. “Those wops don’t know how to take care of their women, but I’m going to look after you from now on,” he said, placing a large, calloused hand to her face. She felt her breath hitch at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to her. She’d been on her own for as long as she could remember and the offer of protection was tempting. The Sabini’s had been terrible employers so how could the Shelbys be any worse? Evelyn wanted to trust Arthur in that moment and she did because there was something in his eyes that told her she was safe.

———————————-

It had been a month since the Shelbys had taken over and the club was flourishing. There were new customers coming in every night and Evelyn was making more in tips than she ever had before. Her instinct to trust Arthur had been correct. He was protective of all his employees, especially Evelyn. He didn’t hesitate to throw a punch if anyone disrespected her which made her feel special and if she dared to think it, powerful. She held her head a bit higher knowing no one would cross a woman protected by the Shelbys.

Truthfully, everyone’s mood had improved. Arthur’s younger brother John was around occasionally and his raunchy jokes were a favorite amongst the girls. Although he was married, he had a few affairs she knew of with Elisabeth and Marie. They all giggled about it afterwards, claiming he had the biggest cock they’d ever seen and stamina to match. The early days were full of heady gossip. 

The girls also talked about the youngest brother, Finn, though he didn’t come round as often. He worked for the boss, Tommy, back in Birmingham. Finn didn’t seem to be as free to make his own decisions and worked harder than his siblings, always off on errands and chauffeuring them about town. Evelyn felt sorry for him because they spoke to him like hired help rather than a brother and rarely invited him for a drink at the family table.

The older brothers had a habit of gathering at a large booth in the back where the men discussed business and watched their customers with a keen eye. John would saunter over with a girl on each arm and Arthur would call Evelyn to his side, holding court as he laughed and cursed. It seemed as though the party would last forever.

--------------------------

Three months in and the club was seeing an increase in Jewish patrons. The girls all whispered about the reasons for this sudden change, considering their previous clientele had been Italian men. Some believed it to be the influence of a new gentleman with a cane at his side and crown tattoos on his hands. He visited Arthur faithfully every Sunday. Whatever was said in their private conversations agitated Arthur greatly and he was never quite the same afterward. Despite her questions about the mysterious man, Arthur kept that business to himself. He only asked Evelyn to keep him company afterwards. A good fuck was all Arthur needed to forget the irritating man who took up too much of his time.

After a stressful night negotiating with the mad baker, he was particularly agitated. With Evelyn too fatigued to offer solace, he offered up his favorite remedy. “We call it Tokyo. It’ll help ya, dove,” Arthur said, pushing the little blue vial into her palm. 

“I don’t know,” Evelyn said, tracing her fingertips over his chest. “I know some girls who got in trouble with this stuff,” she said uncertainly. 

“Don’t be so serious, Evie. It’s just a bit fun, yeah?” he said, tapping the white powder out onto his hand for her. “Go on,” he said with a charming smile. Without another thought, Evelyn snorted it and felt the most intoxicating rush of her life. There was no turning back after she found this new cure for lack of energy and depressing days. Of course, Arthur never denied her. She was too trusting of Arthur in those days she would recall later.

----------------------

The only person who seemed to notice or care about her habit was Finn. When he began to notice her weight loss, he made a habit of dropping in to check on her. It always brought a smile to her face seeing his impish delight at stealing her away.

“C’mon,” Finn would urge with a wave of his arm. “Let’s get out of here,” he always said, checking the hall.

“Finn, I can’t leave,” Evelyn pretended to protest, knowing he would carry her out if she didn't follow.  

“You’re with a Shelby. You can do whatever the fuck you like,” he said with a cheeky grin and she couldn’t help but smile back at him, giving his hand a squeeze as he pulled her out the back door toward a cafe. He would buy her food they would often share as he entertained her with stories about his mischievous nieces and nephews. 

Some days he could tell she was sad despite the laughter. He could sense Evelyn wanted to talk about her problems, but she never really did, preferring to sit and smoke, leaning her head against Finn’s broad shoulder for comfort. He wondered if Arthur had anything to do with her unhappy moods and hated taking her back to the club, knowing he was delivering her into the hands of his wayward brother. Finn often found himself thinking about how Evelyn could stay with someone like that.

—————————————

It was nine months before Evelyn noticed girls from the club were leaving. Well, perhaps not leaving so much as disappearing. They would be tasked with providing company to gentlemen and never return. Evelyn and the other girls were urged not to ask questions about anyone who left employment. Truthfully, with girls coming and going so often and the lack of sleep, Evelyn lost track. She was spending so much time with Arthur that she didn’t have time to learn their names anymore. Perhaps is was the effect of a busy life or the drugs, but she rarely noticed the details.

One evening after a long shift, she returned to Arthur's flat, calling out, “Arthur? Arthur, where are you?" She had finished at the club without any snow, but only barely. Her skin crawled with need. Turning the pockets of his discarded coat inside out for the little blue bottle she craved, she whined when she came up empty. As she stomped her foot in frustration, a giggle echoed down the hall. Following the sounds of splashing water all the way to the bathroom, she opened the door to find an intoxicated Arthur, sunk beneath a layer of bubbles, and a girl from the club sucking a bruise into his neck as she pumped his shaft below the water. 

“Evie!” He slurred, removing one hand from the water to slick back his hair. “Join us, darlin’,” he said with a wolfish grin, unashamed and completely unaware of her shock and sadness at finding him with someone else. 

The girl’s head rose to nod in agreement as she bit her lip. Removing her hand from the side of the tub, she grasped Evelyn’s wrist before she could leave. Like a siren she called out temptingly, “Stay and have a sniff of snow?” She knew her words had the desired effect as Evelyn’s eyes darkened. Although Evelyn didn’t want to stay where another was clearly doing a fine job of satisfying her man, she listened to Arthur’s commands to kneel and take what she badly needed off the woman’s ample breast, his hand at the back of her head holding her in place as he cooed at her how beautiful she looked. 

“Come on, love. Get in,” he urged and that was enough for her to undress for him. He sighed at the sight of her, letting his head drop back against the edge of the tub, watching in enjoyment. It wasn’t a difficult choice from there as she saw how much he wanted her. She even began to believe him when she felt the surge of her high kick in, riding him and feeling Clara pushed to the side. “Been waitin’ all day for you,” he groaned, hips thrusting up into her roughly.

“Then tell her to leave, Arthur,” Evelyn said, leaning forward to kiss him. Arthur’s hand came up to grasp at her throat possessively as a wicked smile crossed his lips. Then he nodded, flicking his eyes toward the other girl. “Get the fuck out,” he growled at her and Evelyn had never felt more powerful.

Later as they lay in bed a tangle of arms and legs, Arthur turned to Evelyn and watched her with hooded eyes. Voice low and full of gravel he proclaimed, “You ain’t like other girls, Evie. You help me shut out all the noise when my head gets too loud,” he said, rubbing circles into her hip with his thumb. “I love you,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Silence descended before he kissed her forehead. Then he rolled her onto his chest, falling into a deep sleep with his large hand splayed across her back. Evelyn basked in his words and warm embrace, knowing her connection to Arthur was far greater than anyone else’s.

Evelyn had never carried a sense of superiority over anyone. Raised by poor people in a dirty slum, it was never her expectation to do better than the life she’d known as a child. However, Arthur allowed her to glimpse the possibility of something more and it was thrilling. Good food, fine clothing and her own dressing room set her apart from the beginning. However, now she could add Arthur’s promises of their future together to the glittering array offered before her like a queen.

It was thoughts like these that caused her to overlook the mistreatment of those around her. It would be another month before she happened to overhear a conversation as she passed outside Arthur’s office that would change all that. She only stopped when she heard the cries of a girl who had been at the club almost as long as she had. Sandra wasn’t prone to theatrics so the cries Evelyn heard surprised her.

“I can’t stay here, Mr. Shelby,” Sandra pleaded.

“Why the fuck not? Solomons likes ya,” Arthur said, pouring himself a drink and taking a seat behind his desk. 

“That’s the problem,” she said, voice wobbling.

“You’re talking in bloody circles. I ain’t got time for this. Are you going to get the information from him or not?” Arthur said testily. 

“I can’t do that to him. I’m carrying his child,” she confessed.

“You stupid fucking bitch. Thought I told ya…” Arthur warned, chair scraping the floor in shrill protest as he stood to confront her.

“I know what you said, Arthur, but this is different. He loves-“ Sandra attempted before Arthur cut her off with a harsh scoff.

“You going to say he loves you?,” he laughed as he took a sip of the whisky he held in his hand. “Say that myself sometimes after I’ve emptied my balls. Doesn’t mean shit.”

“Alfie deserves to know,” she challenged Arthur.

“You’ve got fucking work to do. Last thing you need is a bloody kid,” he huffed. Slamming his glass down on the desk as he instructed darkly, “Get rid of it.”

“Wh-what?” She stammered in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!” Without thinking she kept going, “I’ll tell him everything, I swear I will. And when Alfie finds out…” she warned.

Heavy footsteps could be heard and then a loud slap as Arthur connected with her face. A loud thud reverberated as Arthur pinned her against the wall by her neck. “Don’t you dare threaten me,” he rumbled. “Could kill you right now if I wanted to. He’d never come lookin’ for ya,” he hissed, squeezing the air from her lungs. A faint gurgling sound could be heard over the course of the next few moments, along with the desperate scratching of nails against the wall. 

Evelyn struggled to catch her own breath, frightened Sandra might be dying. Tears pricked her eyes as she bit her fingers, willing her feet to move and do something to stop what she was hearing on the other side of the wall. Just then, Sandra gasped for breath. A sharp wheezing and deep coughs emanated from her as Arthur grumbled, “I’m not gonna let you fuck this up for me. So you’re not sayin’ a word. Understand?”

A small sob that sounded like a yes echoed out along with a few sniffles. Arthur grunted as she ran from the room. Evelyn ran as well, scared and confused by what she’d just overheard. It was a side of Arthur she didn’t want to believe existed.

With his office empty and free of distraction, Arthur picked up the telephone and called for Isiah. “Be at the club tonight by nine,” he said. “Need you to take care of a problem.”

Cont. reading Part 2

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[trinity-xp]

KAHDJHWH AAAA this took me so long but it was worth it-

YES! I did this meme, because I wanted to. And also because I wanted to spam my friends with smol gifts <3 LOVE YOU GUYS!

1st Row: @paimania , @jordanthecat11 , @wushfo

2nd Row: @nolalistra , @jsweetsdraws , @mythical-things

3rd Row: @ros-doodles , @sighs-in-relief , @alavidere

[mehlsbells]

My upbringing was starkly black and white, everything strictly categorised as sin and acceptable, allowed and not. The massive ‘sin: not allowed’ category swallowed everything in legalism and immutable consequences. I fell in love with noir partly because it has no such hangups.

I savoured noir’s evocative language and sexual undercurrent. I learned to believe exposing repressive authority and dirty deeds was valiant even if ultimately futile, and justice could be delivered even when corrupt systems stymied it. The hardboiled detective attracted me from every angle, and I dreamed of both being and fucking the daring mystery-solving, smoking, drinking, dame-bedding wiseass. The detective archetype is dangerously appealing; stalwart antiheroes holding to their personal code while all around them people sold their souls for a bottle of scotch, a land deed, a tempting woman or a hard man. Terribly tragic, and as such, terribly romantic.

Like a suspect in a smoky dive bar, what constitutes ‘loyalty’ in noir is hard to pin down, but while most supporting characters treat loyalty as a purchasable, expendable, flexible commodity, [anti]heroes Spade and Archer, Gittes and Dewitt, Mars and Hammer, et al. hold fiercely to their personal definitions thereof. These ideals often keep them from working with a partner, as they can’t find others who share their notions longer than a book’s opening chapters, a film’s first act. Sometimes, in a twisted blessing, their partner gets murdered before committing betrayal. (‘Committing betrayal.’ What a cruel grammatical construction.)

Fairly unique among their set, Charleses Nick and Nora manage loyalty and happiness to and with each other, but not only does their teasing openly relay insecurities in everyone outside their connubial circle, their origin story is shot through with loyalty conundrums. The crux of The Thin Man revolves around characters leveraging Nick’s allegiance to an old friend to make Nick and Nora investigate a suspicious death/disappearance, similar to the relationship between Marlowe and Terry Lennox in The Long Goodbye.

Marlowe: You didn’t have much choice, huh? So you used me. Lennox: Hell, that’s what friends are for.

Many noir tales examine murder, corruption, lost love, incest, power, grasping for companionship in sex and booze and partners. Few are so nakedly about friendship, loyalty, and the unique betrayal they set you up for as The Long Goodbye. As the game Lennox and Marlowe play in their first scene tells us, all Marlowe’s relationships are games of liar’s poker he’ll lose. The only question is: sooner, or later?

The film’s opening involves the great Philip Marlowe cajoling his hungry cat to eat first a concoction of cottage cheese and raw egg, then generic cat food. The two mewl, mumble and scratch in their understanding standoff. The film ends with Marlowe coolly justifying shooting his once-friend because Lennox indirectly killed the cat. Everything between is a meditation on loyalty.

As best exemplified in Nick and Nora Charles, noir understands relationships featuring fidelity and comfortable insults are the ones which really matter, so the snarky–sweet caring–codependent way Marlowe and hungry cat banter intentionally evokes true friendship. Altman called that opener important and Marlowe’s relation to his cat commentary on friendship: no matter how hectic his life, Marlowe is concerned the cat eats, whether the cops scare him, if he’s lost in LA’s mean streets.

Like most of his genre, Marlowe is destined to traverse the criminal underworld, continually learning the hard way he’s more loyal to friends, clients, even his constantly stoned neighbours, than they to him. He can’t bring himself to act on his cynicism until he’s burnt, and is a lost soul not because he’s dumb or drugged – he turns down even his neighbours’ hash brownie – but because he can’t find anywhere to put his trust.

Though they harass him and he blusters against their threats and handcuffs, Marlowe’s relationship with the cops is his most stable. He despises their work, they hate and stymie him, but at least he knows where he stands. Everywhere else is shifting sand and empty promises, golden and glittering by daylight, cold and dangerous at night. Under it all play morphing renditions of “The Long Goodbye,” refrains evolving and fading as quickly as relationships, adding atmosphere as Los Angeles underworld characters succour the detective and each other until betrayal becomes convenient.

As he searches for answers in mysteries and others, Marlow smokes to dull the pain – take a shot every time he strikes his match on a new surface, you’ll be drunk before the halfway point. Elliot Gould’s physicality superbly conveys Marlowe’s hurt and insecurity, shambling gait literalising existentially unsure footing.

Altman’s shots and Zsigmond’s cinematography also expose Marlowe’s mental state. The beautiful police station tracking shot puts us in Marlowe’s gumshoes, showing his strain as he attempts to sort through the mountain of information, theories, and grief he’s been buried under. The long dolly across the grounds of the clinic has a similar effect, moving first methodically, then more frenetically as Marlowe’s frustration builds. Exposition of addresses and phone numbers unroll with slow camera movements over long takes, revelling in the acting’s stillness, taking a less usual route than montages to make the viewer feel Marlowe’s tedium and loneliness.

The odyssey is wrapped in perfectly exposed beach scenes, daytime sands yellow-tinged and California to their core, nighttime painted deep blacks and grainy red with Eileen’s dress the only spot of yellow. Doubled imagery and symbols of duplicity abound, the most striking of which involve the beach. First we see Marlowe in the glare off Wades’s window, projected between quarrelling lovers as they snipe at each other. Later, in the same window, Eileen is shown two-faced as she and Marlowe talk while her husband charges suicidally into the inky sea.

The whole film is a gorgeous depiction of our ugliest impulses, and Altman is the perfect director for it. Through various lenses and genres, Altman’s work examines intimacy and pain which can be leveraged by only those closest to us. Noir’s peripheral characters are who many of Altman’s other films center: desperate, impotent men; disloyal lovers; marriages on the verge; frustrated humans performing drastic acts. The Long Goodbye digs into side stories many noirs don’t unless impacting the protagonist directly: Farewell, My Lovely is more concerned with Marlowe’s relationship to the women in his path than the women themselves; American Gigolo hardly contains a conversation Julian Kaye isn’t in; Evelyn’s relationships in Chinatown mostly evolve when Jake is around to observe, and he’s around almost every frame. Some of The Long Goodbye’s more virulent events or breakdowns happen while Marlowe is out of the picture, or listening to nothing but crashing waves.

Altman is interested in examining these stories for their own sake, and shows it by examining side characters with the reflections motif, too. Zsigmond uses Eileen’s windshield brilliantly to reflect her facade as Marlowe chases her through the streets. The stoned hippy neighbours are introduced surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, one dancing with herself in the mirrored glass. The gate-guard-slash-impression-artist is reflected in Harry’s shiny car sidepanels, a symbol of security who pretends to be many other people, then shows himself more trustworthy than people pretending to be someone they’re not.

The guard also displays The Long Goodbye’s wicked sense of humour, along with the horny lookout whose ogling of stoned half-naked neighbour women allows Marlowe to sneak away. There’s the slapstick of Harry swinging haplessly on the gate trying clamber over as he imagines a detective should. Marlowe plants a sloppy handprint on the interrogation cell two-way mirror, then paints his face with fingerprint ink, cops impotent to stop his clowning. The guard dog fetching her owner’s stick from the waves has a twisted hilarity to it.

Which brings us, as the film continually does, back to loyalty. Relationships with animals are throughout: besides his cat, Marlowe nervously banters with the guard dog and talks as cheerfully as a damned man can to strays lying in the road. Ultimately animals’ loyalty – even only to the hand that feeds and then betrays them, pictured perfectly with mounted ducks – is still stronger than that of everyone else in his life, and loyalty is important to him.

If only I’d recognised earlier how much my identifying with pulp heroes was due to my own sense of loyalty, deservedness of recipients be damned. “Their cynicism exactly stems from their compassion, [their] hardness is a scar tissue of a heart they can’t stop the world from breaking over and over.” I weirdly admired Marlowe hoping against hope, believing those he loves once, then again. You know what they say about fools.

Marlowe: Nobody cares but me. Lennox: Well that’s you, Marlowe. You’ll never learn, you’re a born loser.

The Long Goodbye is Chandler’s most personal work. “You writers have your own special way of describing, don’t you?” is the movie acknowledging this sure as Chandler’s book commented on his deep insecurities, ideals, and philosophies. (The film references the book many times, including the face-bandaged man as a nod to Book Terry’s extensive plastic surgery.) Roger Ebert said in his original review, “The private eye as a fiction device was essentially a way to open doors; the best novels of Chandler and the others are simply hooks for a cynical morality.” Like Inherent Vice, the criminal underworld is alluring backdrop and murder the smaller mystery behind the real question of whether the detective can uphold his personal code in a world where ‘a man is only as good as his word’ simply means most men are no good. The real question, the crux and heart of the matter, is Will they keep clinging to that code? Why do we keep falling for those who throw us over?

The thing about franchised noir detectives is, as characters or story properties, they can’t fundamentally change. They solve mysteries, their settings are updated from 50s to 70s to aughts to 2019, they jadedly swear they’ll never trust again, they may seem to learn their lesson. But in the end the stories reset. Sure as sunset and the next story, they get let down, used, double-crossed, stung, only to begin again when the next sultry shadow darkens their door. Once again they give their loyalties to a friend in need, a dame with legs up to there. Once again the dames and mates evaporate; or worse, explicitly sell our fallible hero upriver, relying on said hero’s tragically loyal personal code to prevent retaliation.

We’ve all had those dames and mates. We’ve all sworn to never love again, only to willingly set ourselves up for more heartbreak. People who mean what they say only so long as they feel like it. Family who love you so long as you’re meekly in line. Dames who say “I love you” in the night and “I’m leaving you” in the morning. Business partners who call you family until it’s more expedient not to be. Friends who say forever but mean for as long as you’re fun, and you’re no fun when you’re stumbling through a haze of pain or grief. Homme fatales who sell you out when a better offer comes in. Lovers who are loyal while you do exactly what they want.

In the first of two crucial scenes which start placidly before exploding into brutal violence, thug Marty gives a speech to/about his girlfriend Joanne. “Delicate and sweet . . . I love you. I do. . . . The single most important person in my life.” Ah, love, the highest form of loyalty.

Then he hits her across the face with a glass bottle.

Do we feel sorry for her? is the same question Tarantino asks in Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood when Brad Pitt’s Cliff smashes sadistic Sadie’s face with a can of dog food. The blow to Joanne’s face is lighter and unprovoked, but though her crimes are lighter, her madonna-like framing is window dressing. She blithely enjoys fruits of Marty’s torture, murder, and extortion, knowing her flippery is bought with blood money. (Her blow’s aftereffects are visually replicated by Jake’s bandages in Chinatown – directed by Polanski, who is depicted in Once Upon A Time, making these films a Möbius strip of themes, imagery, period, and settings.)

In different ways, Joanne and Sadie establish The Long Goodbye and Once Upon a Time‘s cruel worlds, where psychopaths and rich ruthless men get their way. Both center men with drinking and smoking habits, a dubious past, and a personal moral code. Marlowe and Cliff fight against the establishment, for themselves and their friends. Though they don’t believe in innocence, they want to believe people exist whose souls at least aren’t as dark as the rest of ours. Within their morality is loyalty; Cliff to Rick Dalton, Marlowe to Terry or at least the idea of him: “Terry Lenox was my friend you motherfucker . . . you don’t deserve to be alive you fuckin’ pig.” Rick and Terry don’t return the loyalty, yet Cliff and Marlowe can’t help themselves. It’s their code.

The Long Goodbye ending Ebert calls “off the wall” I see as wish fulfilment, same as Once’s. In the film Terry gets justice delivered by Marlowe, Bracket’s screenplay ‘fixing’ the book’s injustice. Altman revels in this playground where disloyalty equals death and real world consequences are momentarily suspended for a warped fairy tale ending.

The final shot is reminiscent of Holly Martins waiting on a tree-lined boulevard in The Third Man, another film featuring a man unendingly loyal to a death-faking friend who didn’t deserve such fidelity. The Long Goodbye’s last shot brings yellow in again, reminding us of Eileen’s dress, the faded sun on the beach, letters and pledges of friendship aged and brittled by time. Only here, Marlowe’s the one walking away, getting as happy an ending as one can hope for in noir.

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Lennox blindsided Marlowe, then called him a fool for expecting others to do what he would in keeping his word. Pulp detectives are thrown under the bus or off a cliff with the shrugged excuse along the lines of “I knew you were tough enough to survive” or “sorry, you were just collateral damage.” Given enough time, “I threw you under the bus to save myself” becomes “It was the best option for both of us” becomes “you survived and are better for learning this lesson, you should be thanking me!” This essay draws parallels to Marlowe and Veronica Mars’ getting run over because of their clinging to loyalty, “an anchor that binds.”

But every detective also has their breaking point, the point at which they say the rules have been violated enough to justify them taking matters into their own hands. 

Marlowe: I have two friends in the world. One is a cat. The other is a murderer.

Is loyalty its own reward? Chandler’s book seems to argue it is, but Marlowe shooting his once-friend in the film argues something else. Grown and free of the romanticised prism Younger Me viewed Marlowe through, do I believe Chandler’s ending or Brackett’s?

The teenager who first read Chandler’s book would choose idealism: be true to your code, give your loyalty, those who turn on you will get what they deserve while you can keep the moral high ground. Even with grim answers in front of me, maybe I’d make like Marlowe, clinging stubbornly to loyalty disavowed by its recipient, or keeping myself preoccupied searching for answers and other mysteries.

While I want to hold to those ideals still, what are movies for if not to show us what we really want, wish-fulfilling our basest instincts? Watching now, I can’t help but savour that moment Marlowe tosses his cigarette, reaches into his waistband, and coolly shoots the man who treated his loyalty as commodity.

For #Noirvember, I wrote about the concept of loyalty in noir in general, and "The Long Goodbye" in particular. My upbringing was starkly black and white, everything strictly categorised as sin and acceptable, allowed and not.

[agent-7-at-your-service]

Future Plot: Syer’s Rebellion - Chapter 5

((Sandra, Pyrrhus, Telemachus, Kitzeh, James, Market Splatoon, and Jane belongs to me

Camille and Guist belongs to @inklingleesquidly

Nebula belongs to @agenttwo and @myzzy

Marina and Wish belong to @inklingleesquidly @agenttwo and @myzzy; designs are made by @teamuntyblue  / @ryan-sign-guy

Vix belongs to @teamuntyblue / @ryan-sign-guy

Beaker Jr belongs to @askvincent and @scrushling

Emerald and Sapphire belong to @son-of-joy and @twelvetailedkitsune

Suzy belongs to @son-of-joy

Celeste belongs to @alpinesquid​

Mysteeri belongs to @dreadangel  ))

((Insert opening: https://youtu.be/IBF9XEsnvJI ))

Last time on Syer’s Rebellion:

Sandra has led her brother's rebellion to take control of the Fisherman's Wharf and later liberate San Francisco. Market Splatoon is already considering to let her join despite the insubordination. The rebellion is beginning to spread from the west. This also marks a sibling relationship starting to reform between Sandra and James. The Syer's Siblings were now working together to lead the rebellion to fight President Howe.

With California being liberated, with the exception of Manzanar and its surrounding area, Howe is furious of how Mysteeri has handled the rebels in San Francisco.

Meanwhile, Camille, Nebula, and Guist plot an escape attempt, wanting to get everyone out of Manzanar. Chris Zorin has yet to detect this plot.

The Revolution has now pushed forward.

Route From Sacramento to the Black Hills, United States of America - Time Classified

President Evelyn Howe heading to Sacramento from Washington DC only to find her air fleet evacuating loyalists and Splat-Coats. They now had to take them east, hoping to reach either the Black Hills or the Mississippi to make a refugee camp.

The Splat-Coats that were stationed in the Fisherman's Wharf report to President Howe about Mysteeri's fierce fighting abilities when fighting the rebellion. But they reported that Mysteeri retreated due to the rebellion's numbers and the speed of the raid. Seeing this as cowardice, she asked Mysteeri to meet with her in her quarters in the air ship.

"How dare you abandon that post!" President Howe ranted. "Do you have any idea how much is lost because of what you did!?

"I gave it my all, but it wasn't enough." Mysteeri was checking her ammunition. "The Wharf was going to be taken by them anyway. The group leading the rebellion are impressive, especially two indigo inklings."

"You should've stood and fought! " President Howe slams a fist on a desk. "You could've led my men to protect the Wharf! How dare you compliment the ene--" When she heard Mysteeri mentioned indigo inklings, her anger went away. "Two indigo inklings?"

" Do you know them?" Mysteeri questioned.

Evelyn Howe steps away and took a deep breath. She fixed her hair and pulls out from her desk a file on the Syer Family.

"They were an old threat some time ago, the parents to be exact." Howe holds out a photo of a young James. "And it seems their son must be going out for revenge on me."

"That's quite interesting, but that doesn't explain the other indigo inkling, and she’s possibly his sister." Mysteeri folds her arms.

President Howe shook her head and changed the topic. She puts the files away and then shows the photos of two Inklings: Camille and Nebula. "I'm reassigning you to a fort near Manzanar with a Splat-Coat battalion. Make sure that camp is secured so that we can have a rendezvous point to reclaim California."

Mysteeri took a closer look at the photos, knowing well about the Neo Squid Sisters. What are they doing here, she thought. She glared slightly.

"Is that clear, Mysteeri?" Howe asked.

Mysteeri was still looking at the photos. Minutes later she looked at President Howe and nods.

"Good, you're dismissed," Howe ordered.

Mysteeri carefully turns around and walks away. Now she wanted answers to why Camille and Nebula are in this mess. She walks out of the quarters and waits at the hull of the airship.

Meanwhile...

Carolyn Divalves's Manor - Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, United States  5:50 PM

Carolyn Divalves, the Neo Squid Sister's U.S. tour producer, has this manor that was once the mansion of a wealthy man who made his fortune from a unique magazine that inspired a magazine in Inkopolis. Like the wealthy man before Carolyn, she was going to have a lavish party for Camille and Nebula. However, since the Neo Squid Sisters are currently kidnapped, she welcomes their companions to the party.

Only Sandra, James, Wish, Marina, and Vix attended. Suzy, Emerald, and Sapphire were requested by Sandra to retrieve blueprints of Manzanar. The rest of Market Splatoon were preparing troops to liberate Manzanar before heading to the Great Plains. Pyrrhus was left on the Shinkiro in San Diego to take care of Vix's Galapagos Turtle, Reve.

Formal attire was provided by Jame's partner, Elizabeth, and security was organized by Abraham and Henri. Carolyn Divalves has Sandra, James,  Marina, and Wish accompany her to a swimming pool area with a grotto. She offers Sandra and James a soda; for Marina, water, and for Wish, jasmine tea.

Carolyn appeared with a violet gown with a fur collar. Her inky hair is made into a unique style and her shoes were ruby red. She sat at a table with her guests.

"I should say, you guys have done quite enough here on the west coast," Carolyn complimented, "I may be a simple producer, but looking at this war, in favor of seeing America back the way it was before President Howe drugged our society with this steampunk movement. We're nearly going backward."

"I guess you can say that we're concluding our battle West Theater and move onto the Center Theatre," James stated. He takes a few gulps from his soda, "And there, the Great Plains is what I'm worried about."

"Let's focus on Manzanar for now, James," Sandra suggested.

"Right." James nods.

"I swear Felix is going to kill me if he found out Camille and Nebula ended up thrown in an internment camp for people of Japanese descent." Carolyn is worried. "You need get those two and their friend out of there."

"Which is why I have Abraham organize the companies for a liberation. The victory over Manzanar would convince President Howe that the West has fallen. We'll be taking nearly half the country through diplomacy." James shows a map he has in his jacket, but Sandra has her brother put it away.

"What about Alaska and Hawaii?" Marina has been studying up on US history for a while now.

"They remain neutral along with the State of Texas," James replied, "I heard the Lone Star State has temporarily seceded and gained protection under Mexico until the revolution is over. The humans that lived in that state have always wanted to leave the Union, but they never got that chance."

"Well, now they're a republic of their own.... again." Carolyn called a servant and has them hand a plate of delicate snacks to the kids. "In any case, taking Manzanar won't be hard. Defenses there aren't that fortified; I mean it's enough to keep people in, but not enough to keep people out."

"We just need blueprints so that we can take out the Splat-Coats, apprehend the warden, and escort the prisoners out of there and back to their homes." James adjusted his glasses.

"That's why I've sent Suzy with her team of spies to get them." Sandra took a snack and ate it.

Something caught Wish's eye: an adult dressed in the usual steampunk fashion, but his attire was slightly red with a small badge on the front of his shirt, well-hidden and secured. The inkling was meeting with another similarly dressed inkling, and whispering messages that are hard to hear. Wish narrowed her eyes a bit and nudges her cousin, Marina, whispering to alert her about a possible spy. The two sneak away while Sandra and James were talking.

Vix somehow ended up between the two possible spies, overhearing them.

"How far is this fort?" Vix asked the two inklings.

The two unknown inklings were alarmed and grabbed Vix. Wish was right on time to push the two stranger down, and Marina carried them with her telekinesis. This caused a scene, but Carolyn was obliged to ask security to help Marina and Wish take the unknown inklings to a more secure area.

"Spies? In my manor?" Carolyn seemed annoyed. "How rude!"

Sandra ran up to Vix. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Vix felt like nothing bad has happened.

It turns out that the two inklings that Marina and Wish apprehended were Splat-Coat Spies, monitoring James and Sandra. They were doing this under the order of Chris Zorin after hearing that California is close to being liberated and that Manzanar is the only location that has yet to fall.

"The attack on Manzanar has to start now," James stated while walking up to Sandra and Vix, "Forget the blueprints--"

Sapphire arrived with a yellow envelope. "Here you go, Sandra."

Sandra gets up and takes the envelope. "Thank you very much, Miss Inktran."

James is surprised. Sandra looked at her brother and smiled. Their sibling partnership was going to be something for the Revolution.

After the party, Carolyn bids the Syer Siblings farewell; Sandra's party gathered to Independence, California where the Syer's Rebellion has managed to secure the city. This position was a knife pointing at the throat of the target that is Manzanar.

Inyo County Courthouse - Independence, California, United States  5:50 PM

At the courthouse, Sandra shows the blueprints along with the map of Manzanar. James places colored pieces on the certain area; blue represented Syer's Rebellion and red representing the Splat-Coats. And thanks to Suzy, Emerald, and Sapphire, their mission given by Sandra also had them acquire insight to the forces in Manzanar and the fort protecting it.

This was James's lecture:

"So far, the fort is in Kearsarge which is about 5 miles away from Manzanar, armed with chargers and burst bomb units. You can expect the inkomatons, Ichabods, and Tinmens, to be scattered around there with their ink muskets and ink cutlasses. But those clumsy bots aren't going to be the only kind of inkomatons, so steer clear of new bots. As for Manzanar, we're going to be fighting in a small populated area with civilians. That's going to be hard.

I'll have my Splatoon, Market Splatoon, to help deal with the fort. Sandra, I want you, Suzy, Emerald, Sapphire, and Pyrrhus to go and lead the raid on Manzanar itself. Remember, don't harm the civilians, so artillery and splat bombs might not be the best bet. We'll level that camp to the way it was found: ruins.

"What about us?" Wish asked. Her, Marina, and Vix were left out of this battle.

"We can't risk lives here, you three will remain here to study US history." Sandra knew that idea might suck, but it was something to keep them busy. "Besides, you two have medical conditions and Vix is blind. If you go out there, you'll end up in kingdom-come."

"Kingdom-come? Is that a place in the US?" Vix tilts his head slightly.

"We can take care of ourselves anyway," Marina replied.

"Hey, maybe we can get a train for you guys," Wish agreed.

"I have one question about heading to the fort," Suzy asked, "what about this aqueduct?" She pointed to the Los Angeles Aqueduct. "We would need to cross that, and the bridges we checked are all destroyed, except for one."

"Taken care of," James answered, "For now, you guys just take care of Manzanar."

"Understood." Suzy nods.

"We're going to get you back Camille...just hang in there...," Pyrrhus muttered to himself. He cares about her.

Sapphire places a hand on his shoulder and nods to him, caring about Camille too. Despite her small jealousy towards Pyrrhus dating Camille, she has already come to accept their relationship if it makes Camille happy.

Sandra and James both dismiss the team so that they can chat alone.

Back in the Coast of Inkopolis...

Telemachus and Celeste were at the hull of the The Great Unagi, the flag battleship of the Neo-Squidbeak Fleet. Kitzeh, the Hexapus Inkling-Octoling hybrid, came along to help out (And she had a fight to settle with Camille). They are tasked by Agent 7 to go after Sandra and assure she's okay; he has heard of unusual thing going on in the United States, and he wanted none other than Neo-Squidbeak Splatoon -- or at least half of what's left -- to go investigate.

The Neo-Squidbeak Fleet has two aircraft carriers, five battleships (including the flagship), a submarine, four destroyers, and a supply ship. The only ship that wasn't there was the Shinkiro.

"Don't forget we're finding the Neo-Squid Sisters and the Neo-Clone Sisters......and an inkatarian named Vix," Telemachus reminded Celeste.

"Correction, they're called Inktolings," Kitzeh interrupted.

"Inkatarian sounds more better," Celeste stated.

"Doesn't matter what they're called anyway." Telemachus looked out at sea and signals the captains to start sailing. "United States, here we come!"

Kitzeh takes this time to run up to the hull and spread her arms.

"I'm the queen of the world!!!" Kitzeh shouted.

The three have a long way to go.

[the-record-obituaries]

Dec. 6, 2017: Obituaries

Lewis Mitchell, 84

Mr. Lewis Glenn Mitchell, age 84, of North Wilkesboro passed away December 3, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Health - Wilkes Regional.  Mr. Mitchell was born May 14, 1933 in Avery County to Edington Lewis Mitchell and Selina Greene Mitchell.  He was preceded in death by his parents and one brother, Kenneth Mitchell.  Mr. Mitchell was an educator and principal for Wilkes County Schools for 36 years. He was a member and former Deacon and Sunday School teacher at Liberty Grove Baptist Church.  Mr. Mitchell was a member of the American Legion, The Gideon's, and the North Wilkesboro Masonic Lodge.

           Mr. Mitchell is survived by his wife Aleta Joy McGuire Mitchell.  Two sons; Terry Lynn Mitchell, (Donna Dunn) of Mocksville and Jeffrey Glenn Mitchell and fiancé, Lori Forester Walsh of North Wilkesboro.  Two daughters; Vanessa Adams and husband, Roger of Ronda and Melony Adams and husband, James, II of Millers Creek.  Seven grandchildren; Christopher Mark Mitchell and wife Candace, Justin Glenn Mitchell, Megan Maria Sparks, William Norman Sparks, II, Jacob Adams and wife Lora, Alexandra Gail Adams, and Mitchell James Adams.

           Funeral services were held  December 5,   at Liberty Grove Baptist Church with Pastor David Sparks officiating.  

           Burial with military honors by VFW Post 1142 followed in the church cemetery.  

           Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.     In lieu of flowers memorials may be made to; Liberty Grove Baptist Church, 5899 Liberty Grove Church Rd./River Rd., North Wilkesboro, NC 28659 or the Wilkes North Camp, Gideons International, P.O. Box 1791, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659

 Bernice Teague,  82

Bernice Neal Teague, age 82, of Statesville, formerly of Taylorsville, died December 2, 2017 at Jurney's Assisted Living in Statesville. She was born January 17, 1935 to Harry Anderson and Emma Joiner Neal. She was a member of Emerald Baptist Church in Taylorsville. Mrs. Teague was preceded in death by her parents; her husband, Sanford Van Teague; sister, Margaret Neal Cleary; brother, Randy Neal; and niece, Diane Cleary Wagoner.

           Surviving are her niece, Sandra Ketchem and husband Raymond of Statesville, nephews, Rodney Neal of Lenoir, Ricky Cleary, Steven Cleary, Larry Cleary, Neal Cleary all of North Wilkesboro; and sister-in-law, Nan Neal of Mocksville.

           Graveside was held  December 5,   at Mountlawn Memorial Park with Pastor Patricia M. Hellman officiating.

           The family has requested no flowers. Memorials may be made to Hospice of Iredell County, 2347 Simonton Road, Statesville, NC 28625.                                     Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

 Spencer McGrady, Jr

Spencer McGrady, Jr., of Hays, died Friday, December 1, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Health -Wilkes Regional. He was born October 4, 1920 in Wilkes County to Spencer McGrady, Sr. and Candice Harrold McGrady. Mr. McGrady was a member of Baptist Home Baptist Church and a US Army Veteran. He was preceded in death by his parents and his wife, Velna Rhoades McGrady.

           Surviving are his son, Edward McGrady of Hays; daughter, Patsy McGrady of Williamsburg, Virginia; and grandchildren, David Tevlin of Virginia, Megan Tevlin of California.

           Funeral service was held  December 3, 2017 at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. David Jones officiating.

           Burial will military honors by Veterans of Foreign Wars Honor Guard Post 1142 followed in Mountlawn Memorial Park.   Flowers will be accepted.

           Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.  

James Ladd, 87

Mr. James Pat Ladd, age 87 of North Wilkesboro, passed away Thursday, November 30, 2017 at his home.

           Funeral services were held  December 2,  at Fishing Creek Arbor Baptist Church with Rev. David Wellborn and Rev. Michael Church officiating. Burial was in the church cemetery.                            Mr. Ladd was born November 27, 1930 in Wilkes County to Will and Minnie Glass Ladd. He was a self-employed carpenter and a member of Fishing Creek Arbor Baptist Church.

           He was preceded in death by his parents and one sister; Mary Watters.

           Mr. Ladd is survived by his wife; Helen Mastin Ladd of the home, three daughters; Vicky Cooper and husband, Thomas of Purlear, Marsha Stanley and husband, Mike of Kernersville,  Kelly Church and husband, Mike of North Wilkesboro, five grandchildren, one great grandchild, five sisters; Stella Parks of Wilkesboro, Erie Jennings and husband, Lonnie of North Wilkesboro, Juliann Johnson and husband, Ernest of North Wilkesboro, Blanche Minton and husband, Daniel of North Wilkesboro and Marie Hendren of North Wilkesboro and two brothers; Dvaughn Ladd of North Wilkesboro and Bynum Ladd of McGrady.

           In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Fishing Creek Arbor Baptist Church 2446 Fishing Creek Arbor Road, Wilkesboro NC 28697 or to the Donor's Choice.

 Ruby Spears, 84

Ruby Anner Luther Spears, age 84, of Millers Creek, died Thursday, November 30, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Health-Wilkes Regional. She was born August 27, 1933 in Wilkes County to James William and Reecie Cleary Luther. She attended Old 16 Full Gospel Tabernacle. Mrs. Spears was preceded in death by her parents; her husband Ambrose Spears; infant sister; and sister and brother-in-law, Flossie Dair Sheets and husband Harlow.

           Surviving are her son, Albert Michael Spears and wife Diane of Millers Creek; brother, Robert Hubert Luther and wife Sue of North Wilkesboro; grandchildren, Kristy Norman and husband Jonathan of Millers Creek, Jeffrey Spears and wife Brenna of Purlear; and great grandchildren, Makayla, Jessika, and Sophia Norman.

           Graveside service was held December 2,   at Union Baptist Church Cemetery with Rev. Frank Dixon officiating.                              Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Union Baptist Church Cemetery Fund, 420 Colvard Road, Millers  Creek, NC 28651.

           Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.  

Cynthia  Fow, 54

Ms. Cynthia Ann Fow, 54, of Wilkesboro, passed away on Thursday November 30, 2017, peacefully at her home surrounded by her loving family.

           Cynthia was born on Saturday, June 8, 1963 in Pennsylvania to Robert Allen Fow Sr. and Carol Jean Richards Fow.

           Cynthia is preceded in death by her mother Carol Jean Richards Fow.

           Those left to cherish her memory are her Father, Robert Allen Fow Sr. daughters, Nicole Dowell (Joshua) of Ronda, Samantha Parker (Lee) of Wilkesboro; sons, Drew Nickens (Mindy) of Wilkesboro; brother,Robert Fow Jr ( Karry) of New Jersey, sister, Patricia Colbridge of New Jersey; twelve grandchildren, three nieces and one nephew.

           A private memorial service will be held.  

           In lieu of flowers memorial donations may be given to the American Cancer Society P.O. Box 22478 Oklahoma City, Ok 73123

           Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes has the honor of serving the Fow Family.

 Cynthia Pennell, 74

Cynthia Ray Pennell, age 74, of North Wilkesboro, died Thursday, November 30, 2017 at Wilkes Regional Medical Center. She was born February 17, 1943 in Norfolk, Virginia to Robert Angus and Evelyn Calhoun Ray. She was a member of Fishing Creek Baptist Church and was previously employed with the NC Clerk of Court for 22 years. She enjoyed knitting, shopping and spending time with her granddaughters. Mrs. Pennell was preceded in death by her parents.

           Surviving are her husband, Jerry Pennell; her daughters, Donna Coats and husband Tony of Clayton, Missy Cayton of Raleigh; her son, Donald Cayton, Jr. and wife Cindy of Wake Forest; granddaughters, Carleigh Cayton, Ireland Cayton, Leah (Inky) Cayton all of Wake Forest; brother, Robert A. Ray, Jr., of Port Angeles, Washington; and sisters, Laura Aycock of Morganton, Amy Allen of Shelby.

           Funeral service was held  December 4,   at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. Ronnie Gregory officiating. Burial   followed in Fishing Creek Baptist Church Cemetery.  Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to the American Cancer Society, PO  Box 9, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659.                            Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

 Richard  Benton,  68

Mr. Richard Haze Benton, age 68 of Wilkesboro, passed away Wednesday, November 29, 2017 at his home.

           Funeral services were held  December 4th,   at Cranberry Baptist Church with Rev. Victor Church, Rev. Craig Church and Rev. Rick Jackson officiating.  

           Mr. Benton was born September, 26, 1949 in Wilkes County to Noah P. and Ethel Mathis Benton. He retired from teaching at Union Township and Millers Creek Intermediate Schools. Mr. Benton was a member of Cranberry Baptist Church.

           He was preceded in death by his parents.

           Mr. Benton is survived by his wife; Nancy Elledge Benton of the home and a son; Joey Santorum and wife Jen of GA and three grandchildren; Kate, Anna and Will Santorum.

           In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Cranberry Baptist Church Building the Future Fund 1131 Wilkes-Yadkin Road, Roaring River, NC 28669, Uplands Reach Conference Center PO Box 382 Millers Creek, NC 28651, Craig Church Ministries PO Box 129 Purlear, NC 28665 or Ebenezer Christian Children's Home, Po Box 2777 North Wilkesboro, NC 28659.

  Edwin   Carpenter, Sr, 91

           Mr. Edwin Troy Carpenter, Sr. age 91 passed away Tuesday, November 28, 2017 at Rose Glen Manor in North Wilkesboro.

           Funeral services were held  December 2,   at Wilkesboro United Methodist Church with Rev. Karen Roberts and Rev. Chris Lakey officiating.  

           Military Honors by Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 1142 will be presented at Scenic Memorial Gardens Mausoleum.  

           Mr. Carpenter was born June 14, 1926 in Lincoln County to Zanie Sherwood and Elizabeth Harmon Carpenter. He was a highly dedicated and avid educator, having taught mathematics and science for over thirty years. He served in the United States Navy and was a very active member of Wilkesboro United Methodist Church for many years.

           In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by his wife; Louise Moore Hodges Carpenter, a son; Edwin Troy Carpenter, Jr., a granddaughter; Ashley Nicole Carpenter a sister; Earlene Mosteller and a brother; Lathan Carpenter.  

           He is survived by one daughter; Rebecca Louise Kilby and husband Jerry of Moravian Falls, three grandchildren; Ryan E. Kilby of Chesapeake, Va., Jeremy (Jerry) E. Kilby of Buckeye, Az., and Joseph Kilby of Moravian Falls, four great grandchildren; Sailym Kilby, Troy L. Kilby, Justin W. Kilby, Mackenzie Kilby and three sisters; Margie Alexander of Kings Mountain, Beth Terres and Shirley Payseur both of Lincolnton.

           In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Wilkesboro United Methodist Church, PO Box 197, Wilkesboro, NC 28697.

 Rocky  Wyatt,  59

Rocky Vernon Wyatt, age 59, of North Wilkesboro, died Sunday, November 26, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Health-Wilkes Regional. He was born August 24, 1958 in Wilkes County to Vernon Buford and Anna Mae Anderson Wyatt. He was a drummer and a handyman. Mr. Wyatt was one always willing to help others and a friend to all. He worked in the warehouse for Lowe's Companies for over 38 years. Mr. Wyatt was a member of Liberty Grove Baptist Church. He was preceded in death by a son, Shannon Matthew Wyatt.

           Surviving are his wife, Ann Wyatt; daughter, Mandy Wyatt of Denver, Colorado; his parents, Buford and Anna Wyatt of North Wilkesboro; brothers, Brian Wyatt and wife Marquita, Guy Wyatt all of North Wilkesboro; nephews, Chris Wyatt and Nathan Wyatt both of North Wilkesboro.

           Funeral service was held   November 28,  at Liberty Grove Baptist Church with Rev. David Sparks officiating.   The family has requested no flowers. Memorials may be made to the ALS Association, PO Box 37022, Boone, Iowa 50037-0022.

           Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements. 

 Darlene Smith, 82

Mrs. Darlene Russell Carter Smith, age 82 of Wilkesboro, passed away Friday, November 24th, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Wilkes Medical Center.

           Memorial services were December 2 at St. Paul's Episcopal Church with Rev. Anne Dieterle officiating. Interment will be in the St. Paul's Columbarium.

           Mrs. Smith was born May 15, 1935 in Saltville, VA to Joseph Harvey and Beatrice Bentley Carter. She had a BSN in nursing, was an RN and a Physician's Assistant. Mrs. Smith was a Co-Owner of Foothills Center for Women. In addition to her career, she was a member of DAR, former member of the Tory Oak Twirlers, Lions Club and a lifetime patron for the Watson Festival at Wilkes Community College.

           She was preceded in death by her parents.

           Mrs. Smith is survived by her husband; Dr. Duane Howard Smith of the home, Pamela Smith Sloop and husband Davy Sloop, Lynda Carol Smith Chasar, two sons; Stephen Carter Smith and wife, Kahkashan Smith and Scott Howard Smith and wife, Cinda Smith, ten grandchildren; Emily Sloop, Erin Kearney, Evan Sloop, Megan Smith, Bess Smith, Carter Smith, Eliot Smith, Jacob Stalder, Mara Chasar, step-grandchildren; Samia Shahnawaz and Salwa Shahnawaz, Great grandchildren; Maslynn Dinah Stalder and Liam Paul Kearney and one sister; Sue Ellen Tischer.

 James  Wabel, 68

Mr. James Bruce Wabel, age 68 of Wilkesboro, passed away Friday, November 24, 2017 at  Senior Villages of Wilkes.

           A public receiving will be held from 11:00 AM until 1:00 PM, Saturday, December 2, 2017 at Reins Sturdivant Funeral Home.

           Mr. Wabel was born October 7, 1949 in Des Moines, IA to the late James Edward and Kathleen Louise Killebrew Wabel.  James Bruce Wabel was a man that we can honestly say made a lasting impression on nearly every person he came in contact with.      The first words that come to mind would be charming and dapper.   He had a way about him that you would not even realize he was selling you something and he without a doubt was always the best-dressed man in the room.

           Aside from being charming and dapper, James loved his children very much. He was lucky enough to have wonderful women come into his life that helped him create a beautiful family.

           He truly believed everything he did was for his kids. He is survived by his two daughters, Monet Corso of Hollywood, CA, and Tanner Wabel of Monterey, CA; his three sons, Bryce Santaniello of Newport, CA, Brody Wabel and Holt Wabel, both of North Wilkesboro; one grandchild, Bardot Corso; one sister, Charlotte Kipfer, and one brother, John Wabel, both of Washington State.

           A country boy turned city boy was a well suited path for him.  He left Iowa and moved to California where he would remain for the next 30 years until making Wilkesboro, North Carolina his home.  He was funny, incredibly charismatic, and someone you could not forget. Stories of him will be told for a long time to come and we will miss him making us laugh.

           We love you Dad, and we know you are happy in heaven and no longer in pain, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, driving a 560SL convertible Mercedes and living back in Dana Point, California.

           Flowers will be accepted.