photo by captain oddsocks

I have a secret.

I love pumpkins…year round, not just for Halloween.

But that is not my secret.

Let me explain.

I collect pumpkin knick knacks and pictures of pumpkins and I cross stitch them on all sorts of things  and I always have stickers with pumpkins on them and I slap them on anything that isn’t moving.

And if it is I’ll slap one on anyway.

Most people think I like pumpkins because I love Halloween.

In part that’s true.

The truth of the matter is- I like pumpkins because they look like severed heads-

 and when you carve faces on them.

Well.

a.m.

There’s one thing I just can’t admit to people I know- I actually like some of Woody Allen’s films. I don’t know why, because I shouldn’t like them. 

My brain isn’t wired to like movies with brittle shrill characters who couldn’t find their own back sides if you gave them a map, a book called “Backside finding for Dummies” and a Backside Finding Search and Rescue team to help them out.

 I like movies with Pirates and Ghosts and Demonic kids that stuff babies into wine caskets and Mad Scientists that drip honey on people while they sleep and then turn bugs loose to devour the victim alive.

That’s me, that’s what I’m all about, and though I won’t cop to liking “Hannah and Her Sisters” I will say without a moments hesitation and lots of enthusiasm that one of my favorite movies of all time is Donovan’s Brain.

I like it for the ending.

At the ending of the movie the brain escapes from it’s tank and flies around the lab, chasing the mad scientist and his friends. The best part is Donovan’s spinal cord is still attached to the brain and the spinal cord is whipping around the place just like the creature in ” Alien ” would end up doing with it’s tail over 20 years later.

All kidding aside, I liked Donovan’s Brain because somebody had a story and they told it and exactly the way they wanted to tell it. They didn’t pretend it was anything other then a story about a killer brain that could fly.

That’s real story telling and that kind of story telling takes guts.

I keep that in mind when I write my own stories. 

Donovan’s Brain-  food for thought.

this is from my journal…if anything it’ll give you some insight to the ‘map’ I follow when I write my stories here at the Bridge.

amm

When I was a kid, I lived on a neat street.

The kids were neat and the parents were neat and all the kids were in Scout Troops or took swimming lessons at the pool.

They all went on camping trips and had barbeques during the summer and during the winter they all went skiing.

Except for me, of course.

When we first moved to this neat street my parents used to try and force me to play with the neighbor kids and I wouldn’t- I said they were Zombies and that I was pretty sure they’d eaten the last kid who lived in our house.

I remember the way my Dad looked at me the first time I said that. He just shook his head and I’m not sure but I think it was weeks before he said another word to me.

I was nine at the time- so I could be off on that by a bit. 

The problem was I wasn’t a neat kid, I was that weird little kid that didn’t have any friends and never got invited to parties and I got kicked out of Blue Birds because I forgot to bring the treats when it was my turn to do treat day.

Actually the Blue Bird Leader’s daughter kicked me out- I didn’t care because they never got treats that day-, which still makes me laugh when I think about it.

I may have been a weird kid, but I wasn’t a dumb kid and I made it a point to never be with any of these kids alone- or with their parents who smiled too much.

In fact, I used to have nightmares about those kids and their parents and in my dreams they were running me down with their station wagons.I still have those dreams.

Over the years I ran into some of these kids- I drove one to their final resting place in a hearse, a friend of mine arrested one for molesting his children and another is in prison for killing her stepson.

After I kept hearing these stories I decided to take a drive down that Neat Street.

I saw the Neat Parents- they were puttering around their lawns or checking their mail or talking to their neighbors (just like the old days, it’s true some things never change) and I was horrified at how they all looked so worn out and old and tired and I realized those weren’t the Neat Parents-

I was looking at the Neat Kids. 

I slammed my brakes on and pulled visor down and looked in my vanity mirror and checked my face. I don’t know what I was looking for, but it was awhile before I felt calm enough to drive away.

From the backseat I could hear that nine year old Anita who used to be say,

“ Told you, they’re Zombies. Now let’s go home.”

And that’s exactly what I did.

( poem )

The Garden of Proserpine

by A. C. Swinburne, 1866 

( historical )

Photos ofThe Duwamish River, Washington State

Here, where the world is quiet;
     Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds’ and spent waves’ riot
     In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
     A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
     And men that laugh and weep,
Of what may came hereafter
     For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
     And everything but sleep.

Here life has death for neighbour,
     And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labour,
     Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
     And no such things grow here.

There go the loves that wither,
     The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
     And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
     Red strays of ruined springs.

We are not sure of sorrow,
     And joy was never sure;
Today will die tomorrow;
     Time stoops to no man’s lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
     Weeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living,
     From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
     Whatever gods may be
That no man lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
     Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
     Nor any change of light;
Nor sound of waters shaken,
     Nor any sound or sight;
Nor wintry nor vernal,
Nor days, nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
     In an eternal night.

for more information on the Duwamish River visit

Life on The Duwamish River

A River Lost

The Paper Noose

elliot bay, 1907

I work up the street from Elliot Bay in Seattle, Washington.

It’s a pretty historic body of water and lots of important historic things have happened there.

One of my favorite historic things is when a Boeing 307 ditched into Elliot Bay back in 2002. It was flying from Seattle to Everett and it ran out of gas

Yes, really.

I mean they go up and like 3 minutes later they’re on empty and ditching in Elliot Bay and I’d have given anything to have over heard the conversation in the cockpit when that happened.

SOMEBODY forgot to check the fuel levels.

Anyway.

To add to the weirdness that you can only find in Seattle and the waters around her is the story about the Floaters.

It’s sort of embarrassing- we have this great waterfront and a lot of people will fly from the other side of the world to visit Pier 69 and these Cruise ships dock here and all these tourists will be taking pictures or eating caramel apples or eating at one of the restaurants or waiting for a tour bus and they’ll look down into the Bay and see…

A dead body in the water.

Floaters.

This time it was different.

Take a look: 

Ferry rider spots body in Seattle’s Elliott Bay

Story Published: Aug 8, 2007 at 11:48 AM PDT

Story Updated: Aug 8, 2007 at 9:59 PM PDT

By Associated Press

SEATTLE (AP) – A ferry rider spotted a body floating in Seattle’s Elliott Bay on Wednesday.

Fire department spokeswoman Helen Fitzpatrick said the department, police and the Coast Guard were notified about the body about 7:30 a.m. north of Harbor Island.

A fire department boat picked up the man’s body and turned it over to the King County medical examiner’s office.

Here are some links to Story Starters that inspired me

to write the stories you can find here at Anita’s Owl Creek Bridge

FYI

They weren’t ’strange’ until I got my hands on them…

 trust me…anybody can use them

so

!HAVE FUN!

Story Starters

Ceremony Of The Mirror

Descansos

The Deserted Farmhouse

Walk Inside A Painting

Not Quite Alice

The Lonely Ones

Soul Food Cafe Home Page

I woke up to this news story.

A set of skeletal human remains in a diving suit was found in Commencement Bay in Tacoma Washington.

The body was recovered at 200 feet and a quote from the story says,”It could have been here for years, up to 9 months,” said Detective Ed Troyer with the Pierce County Sheriff’s Department. “

 All the same the Diver- hidden by the dark waters of The Bay- came up to the surface and it’s a haunting story.

Isn’t it?

YouNewsTV™

Story Published: Aug 7, 2007 at 9:16 AM PDT

Story Updated: Aug 7, 2007 at 5:24 PM PDT

By KOMO Staff

Watch the story

Investigators are trying to identify the skeletal remains of a diver, recovered Monday in Tacoma’s Commencement Bay. An off duty firefighter discovered it while diving in some pretty deep waters.

The water is deep enough to make for a challenging search. From the shore, there’s a slow decline, then at about 55 feet, there’s a sharp drop-off.

At this point, most divers only go about 130 feet deep. But there are more extreme divers who use special equipment and go deeper. The body was found at 200 feet.

“It could have been here for years, up to 9 months,” said Detective Ed Troyer with the Pierce County Sheriff’s Department. “We have identified a couple of different divers that have gone missing from down here over the years that have gone missing over the years that we have not recovered.”

Crews had to use a sonar camera to locate the body, and a remote control robot to dive the distance, and pull the body up to the surface.

At this point, it’s up to the medical examiner to answer the mystery of the diver’s identity, and how long the body has been underwater.

Welcome to Anita’s Owl Creek Bridge Oscar, I think you’re going to feel right at home.

amm

Cat predicts deaths of nursing home residents

By Associated Press

PROVIDENCE, R.I. (AP) – Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours.

His accuracy, observed in 25 cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live.

“He doesn’t make too many mistakes. He seems to understand when patients are about to die,” said Dr. David Dosa in an interview. He describes the phenomenon in a poignant essay in Thursday’s issue of the New England Journal of Medicine.

“Many family members take some solace from it. They appreciate the companionship that the cat provides for their dying loved one,” said Dosa, a geriatrician and assistant professor of medicine at Brown University.

The 2-year-old feline was adopted as a kitten and grew up in a third-floor dementia unit at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. The facility treats people with Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s disease and other illnesses.

After about six months, the staff noticed Oscar would make his own rounds, just like the doctors and nurses. He’d sniff and observe patients, then sit beside people who would wind up dying in a few hours.

Dosa said Oscar seems to take his work seriously and is generally aloof. “This is not a cat that’s friendly to people,” he said.

Oscar is better at predicting death than the people who work there, said Dr. Joan Teno of Brown University, who treats patients at the nursing home and is an expert on care for the terminally ill

She was convinced of Oscar’s talent when he made his 13th correct call. While observing one patient, Teno said she noticed the woman wasn’t eating, was breathing with difficulty and that her legs had a bluish tinge, signs that often mean death is near.

Oscar wouldn’t stay inside the room though, so Teno thought his streak was broken. Instead, it turned out the doctor’s prediction was roughly 10 hours too early. Sure enough, during the patient’s final two hours, nurses told Teno that Oscar joined the woman at her bedside.

Doctors say most of the people who get a visit from the sweet-faced, gray-and-white cat are so ill they probably don’t know he’s there, so patients aren’t aware he’s a harbinger of death. Most families are grateful for the advanced warning, although one wanted Oscar out of the room while a family member died. When Oscar is put outside, he paces and meows his displeasure.

No one’s certain if Oscar’s behavior is scientifically significant or points to a cause. Teno wonders if the cat notices telltale scents or reads something into the behavior of the nurses who raised him.

Nicholas Dodman, who directs an animal behavioral clinic at the Tufts University Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine and has read Dosa’s article, said the only way to know is to carefully document how Oscar divides his time between the living and dying.

If Oscar really is a furry grim reaper, it’s also possible his behavior could be driven by self-centered pleasures like a heated blanket placed on a dying person, Dodman said.

Nursing home staffers aren’t concerned with explaining Oscar, so long as he gives families a better chance at saying goodbye to the dying.

Oscar recently received a wall plaque publicly commending his “compassionate hospice care.”

I can’t say that I see a lot that sends chills down my spine, I mean you

should see what lives in my head

It  keep you awake for a year.

if you’re lucky

But sometimes I’ll hear something that will haunt me far into the night

….like this song.

Enjoy

Story of llorando by Rebekah Del Rio Here

We live on a very dangerous road.

It’s not dangerous because it’s poorly designed- it’s dangerous because it’s a short cut to the Mall and nothing is more dangerous then the ground between a Major Shopping Mall and a consumer.

So if someone isn’t jumping the curb with their monster sized SUV they’re almost hitting a kid or more likely running over someone’s cat or dog.

Like my pets for instance.

At the beginning of Summer I was outside getting my mail when my cat Blitzer sees me from across the street. He meows and bolts and just as before he gets to the middle of the street this car comes up the road and I’ll be darned.

He’s not speeding.

He has plenty of time to stop I think.

Wrong.

 I hear the engine rev up and this guy drives straight towards my cat.

Then when the driver sees me he slams on his breaks and pulls up to the curb and he looks embarrassed as he calls out the window, “Hey is that cat okay?”

I’m standing there thinking- what can I say?

Better luck next time?

And then I remember, I write stories at Owl Creek Bridge.I write about Devils and Demons, Witches and Curses and Psychos. I write about people who hide bodies in trunks with Christmas tree ornaments. I don’t know where the ideas come from I just know the inspiration for them can hit at the funniest times- and I’ve taught myself that when they do to pay attention.

“What?” I ask.

“That cat….the black one that ran in front of my car. Is it okay?”

I back up from the car and look over my shoulder at my house. “Cat?”

He points up towards my Cherry tree and says. “That cat. Is it okay?”

I look under my Cherry tree and Blitzer is sitting there with his tail sort of swishing from left to right and he’s got these bright yellow eyes that (thank you Jesus!) are glowing like crazy because of the way the sunlight is hitting them.

Then I back up and hit my mailbox and without turning away from the guy in the car start yelling for my Husband who isn’t at home, “Luis! Can you come here for a minute? ”

“Lady that cat! The one sitting under the tree right behind you!”

I turn around and look at Blitzer who is licking his chops because its dinner time and I look back at the guy in the car and say, “Look, just go okay? This isn’t funny.”

This guy looks from me to Blitzer and then he reaches down and tries to start his car which was already running and then he drives away but before he reaches the end of the street I see him stop, he pulls over and he sits there for awhile before he drives off again.

 ” Wow, that was fun.”

I turn around and Blitzer has a bird wing in his mouth.I guess he had it stashed under the tree, or maybe he had it the entire time.

I’m still not sure about that. 

See, Blitzer is always dragging around parts of animals or chasing something through the bushes. He also has these nightmares and starts doing that weird cat scream when he’s all curled up at the foot of my bed.

Blitzer is sort of bonkers. My husband thinks we should see if they make anti-psychotic meds for cats. 

People.

Blitzer walks up to me and drops the wing at my feet and starts to purr.

The Little Devil.

I don’t know where he gets it from.

amm

For your amusement and edification-

Ladies and Gentlemen

May I Present….

The Doctor

Official Dr Who Site

The Count

the late Joe Towey

click here to reach the Joe Towey Page

When I was a kid I used to sit through hours and hours of Vincent Price movies and at the age of six was a devoted fan of a show called Nightmare Theatre which aired on KIRO TV in Seattle Washington from about 1964 through the mid 70’s.

I started watching it in late 1968- when I was four years old.

You read that right.

Nightmare Theatre was hosted by Joe Towey as The Count and they featured the best Horror Films in the world….well, that’s what I thought anyway…

actually that’s what I still think.

 At any rate, I could watch movies at the age of six that would give adults nightmares…but nothing and I mean nothing freaked me out like Disney Movies.

So when I came across this I had to post it- it captures exactly how I used to view Disney…

someone has been listening to my

Nightmares.