Halloween Fun At Anita’s Bridge

On Halloween Night we used to love to do things like test drive Mortality.

Here’s how we did it:

Bloody Mary

You know that legend about Bloody Mary? You’re supposed to stand in front of a mirror, in the dark ( well, use some candles I mean- duh- if you can’t see what’s going on you’re out of luck ) and chant the name ” Bloody Mary ” three times- then she comes out of the mirror and kills you.

I’m not sure how she does it- though I’m guessing sharp objects are involved.

I think the idea is to get somebody you don’t like to do this- but I could be wrong.

We tried it- doesn’t work

but it was fun.

The Girl At The Side Of the Road

Every Halloween some Dead Prom Queen is supposed to be on some road waiting for somebody to give her a ride home

 From what I understand this story involves a girl who dies in a car accident on her way home from the Prom and somebody will pick her up and drive her home and when they get there they turn to the back seat and she’s gone and her parents come out to tell you her sad story.

We went looking for her too- but we decided if we found her we’d make her go ” Shoulder Tapping ” with us.

Shoulder tapping is what we called it back in the 70’s when you’d hang around in front of the 7-11 and try to get people to buy beer for you- which shows you how smart we were- we always did it in our neighborhood so we were always sober by the end of the night.

And we didn’t see a ghost either.

Darn.

 

Thirteen Steps To Hell

We have at least two cemeteries here in Washington with stories about how in one crypt or in one grave there are Thirteen Steps Leading to Hell. The Doorway to the steps is guarded by a Witch who will give you the Second Sight if you sell your Soul to the Devil who is waiting for you at the bottom of the 13 Steps to finalize the deal.

To bad the Sight doesn’t kick in before you get to the Bottom of The 13 Steps.

 Then You’d see clear as day that the Devil takes you to Hell and if your plan was to rule the world with your Powers-  you are so going to be disappointed- toasty- but very disappointed.

Message From The Beyond

Everyone goofs off with a Ouji Board on Halloween.

Everyone knows those things are demonic.

Everyone doesn’t get together three or so  friends, agree on a phone number

as the ‘message’

let their inncoent bystander ( and former ) friends call it

only to let them learn they’re dialing

the intake desk at a local Mental Hospital.

Hey, it’s funny-and like I said you shouldn’t mess with those things…

and on Halloween of all Nights.

Dingbats.

 

To end this  let me remind you: 

Life is short-

Enjoy Halloween and all the

rest of the year too

amm

From Ghoulies And Ghosties….

From Ghoulies and Ghosties  

and long leggety beasties

 and things that go bump in the night,

Have A Happy Halloween!

In The Eye Of The Beholder

PROUD WINNER OF THE

CELLULOID BLONDE

 AWARD FOR

best fiction post

 

Abney Hawkweed taught music for 25 years in the Caswell School District and those were the best years of her life.

Not that she liked teaching; in fact Abney didn’t even like kids.

But the hours were good, she got the Summers off and at the end of the day not many people go out of their way to pay attention to plain looking women with wire rimmed glasses who know how to play the violin and trumpet and the saxophone.

Which suited Miss Abney Hawkweed just fine.

In the old days, after school was over and Abney was on her way home she used to roll the windows of her fuel-efficient little car down and she use to turn the radio off just so she could hear the honking horns and screeching tires. Sometimes she even got an earful and eyeful of some road raging driver screaming their lungs out and waving their fingers around in nasty gestures.

Sometimes, just for the fun of it Abney would go out of her way just so that she could drive by the Great Mall of Felton Hills.

She just loved to watch people dodge buses and trucks and cars and then no matter how many cars were behind her honking their horns she’d drive slow just so she could see the same people sprint, jog or run across the parking lots with baby strollers and shopping carts- all so that they could get into the shops and the food court and consume anything they could lay their hands on.

It all seemed so trivial and innocent and final.

 There was no mystery to life in the suburbs.

You worked, you shopped, you watched TV and then you got to die.

Some people, Abney thought, don’t know how good they have it and that’s a fact.

Abney’s day job paid the rent; what she did at night was who Abney Hawkweed was. She could always find another day job, but there was only one Abney and when the Sunset came she couldn’t be anything else.

So just after dinner she would gather her tools into a little black leather medical bag- the one she inherited from her Grandfather and she turned the little gold clasps counter clockwise to lock it.

Then for luck, just like Grandpa taught her, she would touch the little brass plate that said, ” Post Mortem Case ” three times.

The luck thing was important because she usually needed it.

Like with most family businesses you could either take up the reigns and do the family proud or you could skate by and make them wish they could at least say you were adopted or ‘from the other side of the family’.

The worst you could be neither, the worst thing you could be is mediocre.

And know it.

Abney figured she could get the job done-  and that  phrase pretty much summed up Abney’s job performance. She wasn’t as glamorous and thin and blond as her cousin Inez and she wasn’t as smart or athletic as her Father Dr Setwell Hawkweed had been.

They were impressive figures at work and well respected.

No doubt, Abney could dig up a coffin  pop it open and hammer a stake into the heart of a bloated red faced vampire before it could open it’s mouth and spit blood into her eyes-which is what they did when they were about to attack.

If they got you it was bad news because that mess could make you blind.

That’s how they brought you down.

Anyway…

The problem was it was just plain old Abney Hawkweed in some old decrepit church or over grown cemetery carrying on the family trade.

There was no sense of style about how Abney did her work so she did it quietly and efficiently as possible and then she’d go home feed her cat, listen to a little Mozart and then she’d turn in for what was left of the evening.

She did that for 25 years and she never complained.

She didn’t even complain when she had to go into a house on Halloween (of all nights) and take out a family of Vampires who had been sleeping in their basement and then  had taken to hanging from the rafters like water logged Piñatas-dripping blood and purge from their hardly working bowels onto the floor.

All Abney figured when she slipped in the gunk and broke her wrist was that they had done that on purpose.

It wasn’t like the books and comics and video games you know.

Abney learned the hard way that oxygen deprivation at death and then waking up to find you had been turned into a mosquito was enough to make anyone crazy.

Very Crazy.

On the day Abney retired- both from the Day Job and the Family Trade, her work friends had taken her out for lunch and given her some neat gifts and they had promised to keep in touch.

She doubted they would.

And of course they didn’t.

Her family same to celebrate her retirement and of course they promised to stay in touch too- and Abney figured they’d make good on that and of course they did.

Especially when they needed a night off.

As time went by Abney started to play the Violin again for the simple pleasure of it. She never got calls to lend a hand at this Graveyard or that Morgue because the Vampire Problem was a Problem Solved and Abney decided to take up the guitar.

It was at Inez’s birthday part last winter that Inez had told Abney, ” You know in the old days we could never have all gotten together like this. It’d have been too dangerous. I mean, a couple of nutty blood suckers and a can of gasoline and before you know it we’re crispy critters and people are dropping like flies from ‘ the plague’ again.”

” You had a lot to do with that Abney. Thank you.”

And Abney decided right then and there that she may not have been the sleekest of models to hit the showroom floor but she had made a difference all the same.

That was when Abney really felt it for the first time- her life; her simple quiet life was all she ever was.

And she missed it.

When Spring came Abney had decided to take up sketching. She was pretty awful at it, but she had nothing but time on her hands and if this didn’t work she could always try something else.

So one day she’s at her favorite park sketching her favorite tree when four teenagers went walking by.

Shoulder to shoulder they looked like a little black thundercloud rolling along on the cobble stone pathway.

Their faces were pale, their lips were black and they smelled like the perfume counter at the Bay Side Department store.

Abney watched them for a moment and then she called out, ” You there…are you  suppose to be Vampires? “

There was a chorus of snorts and chuckles and someone tried to growl ” suppose to be ” but his his voice cracked.

One of the little black clouds broke away from the rest and she tried to glide up towards the middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair ” We’re Goth ” she said slowly with her jaw clenched tight and her black hair falling into her face.

” Is that a new type of Vampire?” Abney asked cheerfully.

” I guess you could say that.” the girl with the pointed white teeth said. Then she tried to stare the old woman down. ” Why do you want to know? “

Abney shrugged, ” just checking. “

And as the little black cloud drifted down the path Abney got up, reached for the black bag under her chair and touched the little brass plate three times.

Then she went to work.

How Sweet It Is

 

I have so many wonderful Halloween Memories…

this is one of them

and it concerns:

Lizzie Borden

Today I read about a Lizzie Borden Halloween Prop that costs THOUSANDS of dollars.

Robot Lizzie swings an Ax up and down.

Sure, whatever.

When I was a kid this family had a Haunted House set up in their basement and the Dad used to dress up like Lizzie and chase people around with an ax and he’d be screaming ” Forty Whacks! Forty Whacks for you all!”

And the entire time he- well, she is doing that, we’d be screaming for Jesus and our Moms and diving under furniture and swinging our plastic pumpkins like around medieval war weapons and trying to climb out the windows.

I wouldn’t trade that memory for anything-

not even for THOUSANDS of dollars.

amm

The Scariest Thing

“Anita, you write stories about ghosts and the living dead…you worked in a funeral home so tell me…what’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen? “

To be honest, I’ve seen lots of strange things but I’ve never seen anything that ever scared me. So I’ll laugh, joke and blow the question off.

Ask me the right question though and you’ll get a different answer- you’ll get THE answer

and here it is:

To let you know right off- I’ve never SEEN anything that frightened me but once I felt something that did.

I was working alone in a basement and for once I had the radio off and it was quiet, just still and calm. It was a nice feeling, sort of a ‘sitting by the lake at sunset’ feeling.

I was reaching for something up high on a shelf when I felt something tug at the bottom of my plaid work shirt- I always wear oversized plaid shirts when I’m down there because the dust is so bad it wrecks my clothes. I thought I’d caught my shirttail on something so I reached back and pulled it down.

Then I walked to the next shelf and just as I reached up I felt that tug again and I stood there with my arm halfway up in the air when I felt the same tug- up higher this time- under my shoulder blade.

 I knew I wasn’t alone.

And I knew if I turned around there would be nobody standing there.

Now, when I’m in trouble, or stressed out I give myself these pep talks and it’s always my Grandfather’s voice I hear.Only this time it was my Great Grandmother I heard- and let me tell you she was ‘snap your spine if you made her angry’ type of a woman.

 Comfort was not a word that springs to mind when I think of Nan.

” Don’t you dare turn around ” I was hearing, ” You keep those eyes forward and don’t turn around.”

Then I felt something tug at the end of my braid and I bit my lips really hard and tried to not yell. But I didn’t turn around and as I walked away from the shelf I didn’t look back.

If you can imagine it- worse then that tug on my shirt was that feeling that something was just behind me. Whatever it was wouldn’t go away and it followed me up the basement stairs.

When I got to the top steps and crossed over the threshold I turned around and pulled the door closed. And then I opened it again reached in and snapped the light off.

 This time I kicked the door shut.

That’s it; those five minutes are the one thing that scared me. You can make what you like of those minutes- after all I still wonder about them myself.

I’d advise you to not consider them when you’re alone though, I don’t.

A Midnight Dreary

 

I not only write ghost stories

I’ve lived some.

enjoy 

About 10 years ago my husband and our three kids moved back to Mountlake Terrace. When we moved to Terrace we moved into a brand new Apartment Complex, I think there had been less then a half dozen renters in the place.

So it was new and spiffy and energy efficient.

About two weeks after we moved in I was in my bathroom brushing my teeth before bed.

It had been raining and thundering all evening, so when I started to see flashes of lighting it wasn’t exactly a surprise.

Anyway, I was looking into my bathroom mirror- I saw myself, I saw my bedroom window over my shoulder and then I saw blinding white light in the mirror and then my teeth slammed together and there was this deafening roar and all I could think was, ” I’m in trouble. ”

I wasn’t in trouble- but the tree outside my bedroom window was.

 The next day we found out it had been hit by lightning and you could see the scorch mark down one side and two of its limbs were blasted off and another was left dangling.

The kids played and tugged at the damaged tree limb until it came off. I remember them dragging it around for a while and the maintenance man broke it up and threw it away.

It was shortly after that  when the ghosts came.

My youngest son is a social animal.

At the age of  7 and after only a few weeks of living in our new place he knew everyone. By that I mean he knew names and who lived where and what they did and their pets names and millions of other little details.

Don’t ask me how he did it.

Then he changed.

It was a gradual change-  my son started to sleep a lot during the day,  he started getting dark circles under his eyes and when he started hiding his favorite toys around the living room I thought that maybe the move had affected him after all.

One day I was pulling his collection of Ninja Turtles from out of my bookcase (he had hidden them behind the books) when he went walking by with his skateboard under his arm and said he wanted to take a nap.

It was about 2:00 in the afternoon and enough was enough.

I asked why he was so tired and he said, ” this little boy comes into my room at night and plays with my toys and he’s keeping me awake.”

” Is that why you’re hiding your toys? ”

” Yeah. ”

 Is it working? ” I said trying to play along.

My son shrugged and went into his room and took his nap.

It was a little while after the toys in the bookshelf incident when my Sister came over for a visit.

My kids had insisted on a pet hamster because not only did their Mom have a cat she had pet rats and the boys decided pets shouldn’t be something only Moms got to have.

They named  their new pet Scooter.

My Sister and I were alone in the apartment- the kids, my husband and her husband were all out buying pizza.

We were in the kid’s room playing with Scooter.

We put him into one of those little balls hamsters  can run around in and I remember my cat was sitting in the doorway and I was going to push the ball with the hamster in it towards him.

My cat had been raised with my rats and he had this thing were he wouldn’t go for rats or hamsters and my Sister didn’t believe it.

So we both look up to where Wolfgang had been sitting when this little boy ran right passed the bedroom door and down the hall towards my bedroom.

” Who’s that? ” my Sister asked.

” Probably a neighbor kid. They walk in all the time. ”

I went to get the kid when my cat sort of slinked around the corner and he looked up at me and growled.

I don’t mean that cat growl- it was big and deep and his ears flattened against his head.

I went to push him out of the way with my foot and he reached forward and grabbed my ankle with his teeth. Then he started to  jerk backwards with these little snaps to his neck and the entire time he’s doing this he’s looking up at me and growling.

Then he sort of turned without letting go and tried to pull me back into my kid’s room.

My sister was yelling, I was screaming  because my cat was holding onto my ankle and the blood was starting to run and no matter what we did or how loud we yelled he wouldn’t let go.

Then his ears went back up; he let go of  my ankle and he walked out into the living room.

” There’s no one in the apartment except us…is there? ” my Sister asked.

I remember I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know.

I’ll leave you with this final ghost story-

Out of a dead sleep I woke up at exactly 1:45 in the morning and standing beside my bed was my Grandfather.

I was really glad to see him- it had been about 14 years since he had died. He’d missed my Wedding and my High school Graduation and a million other great things.

Now I was going to get the chance to tell him all about it and I remember trying to wake up more so that I could get my husband to wake up and meet my Grandpa.

I was surprised- but not that my Grandfather was there but that he looked so young.

He looked like he did in his late 30’s- I’d only seen pictures of him in those days and I wasn’t sure why he looked like that and not like the man I’d known.

But that was okay- all that mattered was that he was here now.

This went on for a week- I’d wake up at the same time and there he was standing by me looking happy and relaxed and pleased to see me.

At the end of the week my Grandfather’s sister passed away.

I was heartbroken- she was a great lady and she use to tell this great story about performing in a childrens choir ‘back in the day’ for Prisoners in an honest to goodness Prison.

They were singing for genuine convicted killers and robbers.

I use to ask a million questions about what it was like inside of a Prison and she was happy to tell me.

Plus she could whistle through her teeth.

She had a great life if you ask me.

Anyway, I never asked what time she died- I was sure I already knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

So there are my stories- are they true?

Did they really happen?

Did they?

There’s This Place …

From The Guys At

Weird New Jersey

watch this alone…at night…with the lights off

 go one…give it a try

it’ll be a scream.

amm

Did You See That?

Just doing my part to spread the Halloween fun…

so here are some treats to get you in the Halloween Spirit

enjoy

For some Devilish Delights ( and I DO MEAN Devilish Delights)

 visit

at

The Hungry Ghost

He says it’s all about Pies, but for real Tony loves that spooky stuff so check him out at Tales at Twilight

I AM NOT WORTHY I AM NOT WORTHY visit my heroes Mark and Mark at Weird New Jersey –they so rule.

And to get that little chill- you know the one that runs up and

down your spine just as the lights go off…

read Max’s Ghost Story

Want to see something really strange? Then vist the West Midland Ghost Club in the U.K. ….

or you could stay local like me and hang ( ha ) with the crew from A.P.A.R.T

FOUR MORE DAYS! FOUR MORE DAYS!

NOW GO FORTH AND HALLOWEEN….

 

 

The Unquiet Grave of Iris Winterbark

    

Behind the building called the school house, under a black twisted tree is the Unquiet Grave of Iris Winterbark. 

Iris Winterbark was the teacher in that little schoolhouse and the rotted oak tree out back is where she was suppose to have dispatched her more unruly students by hanging…either that or she was suppose to have hung them by their heals and burned them alive.   

At any rate, the town of Deuil is very famous, or infamous depending on your point of view, and most of the stories you’ll probably come across aren’t true, but the one about Iris Winterbark is.

When Deuil was founded back in the early 1900’s there were 30 families living there- and it was exactly 30 families that live out there to this day. 

That’s a guess of course because the rest of the County leaves Deuil to itself.

You see, up there in the hills the men and women of Deuil had taken Indians and other dark skinned people as their husbands and wives.Worst of all, no request had ever come from the Town of Deuil for a Minister to come out and visit them.

Not that one would have made the trip.

” There isn’t a soul up there ” the people around Deuil would say.

In a way they were right.

                                                

Iris Winterbark showed up to teach school in April.

The new Teacher was small and thin and nobody liked her.

It wasn’t because she was strict and she kept the razor strop on her desk that she could snatch up with lighting speed that you’d never think a woman her age was capable of.

No it was because of something no one could put there finger on –  it wasn’t easy to notice but it preyed on your mind like a starving wolf all the same. 

Iris Winterbark never seemed to take a breath and she never blinked. 

She would spend her teaching days looking out at her few dozen students with disgust because they were filthy little creatures that smelled like they never bathed and she would hiss out history lessons and math lessons and spelling lessons and geography lessons. 

The rest of the time her gaze and face was as slack and expressionless as a corpse’s face. That is until some unfortunate student made a mistake. Then those flat blue eyes would suddenly spark to life and her face would crack into a smile and  then bang! 

The strop would be in her hand and some poor slow pupil would be bleeding and Iris Winterbark would be at her desk again as prim and still as a marble statue in a cemetery. 

And then she would blink…almost.

Now every class has its odd student out and in this class it was a boy named Petty Morel. He’d glare at his classmates and he’d glare at his parents and he’d glare right back at Miss Winterbark hardest of all.

One day after failing an arithmetic lesson and after writing the correct answer 500 times on the blackboard and Miss Winterbark had administered the strop Petty stood at the front of the class and dripped blood all over the shiny wood floor and said, “ you’re just an evil old witch.” 

Miss Winterbark had said, “ There are no such things as witches Petty, but I’m very real and I would be very careful of what you said if I were you.” 

“ Then you’re not a witch? “ Petty had asked as a wide beautiful smile crossed his face. 

“ I most certainly am not.” 

“ I’m glad to hear that Miss Winterbark, I really am.” 

None of his classmates were paying attention to anything Petty and Miss Winterbark were saying. They were too busy watching the blood pool at Petty’s feet. 

                                     

The next day Petty Morel walked up to Miss Winterbark’ s desk after class and he asked her, “ is it true you hang people out behind the school house and they come back to life when you want them too.” 

“ No it isn’t.” 

“ Do you bury people alive?” 

“ I most certainly do not!” 

Petty almost looked disappointed, then he sighed. 

Petty stood  there in front of Miss Winterbark’ s desk with his hands folded behind his back and was about to say something more when Miss Winterbark slammed her hand on her desk and made Petty jump about six inches off the ground. “ I have never a group of such dull slow witted children as I have in this town. And look at those nails and your hair…. dirt and leaves in your hair. My goodness, what do you children do, sleep outside with the rest of the animals?” 

“ I don’t sleep outside in the open, my Parents would never let me do that Miss Winterbark. Its not safe you know.” 

Then Petty watched the sun sink behind the window and he said with his sharp pointed white teeth “I’m so glad you’re not a witch Miss Winterbark, I really am. “ 

                                  

Petty wasn’t really worried about how angry his Mother was, he could deal with her being angry. It wasn’t the same this time because his Mother was furious and she shook his arm so hard it made his teeth rattle. “ Who on earth is going to clean up this mess Petty Morel? “ 

“ I am mother, “ he said. He looked around the blood spattered walls and what was left of Miss Winterbark on her desk and what was left of her under the window and over by the door and he sobbed, “This is the biggest mess I’ve ever seen in my life! It’s going to take me all night to clean up!” 

“ Well, being that you already ate all I can do is deny you dessert and playtime with your friends. This is very serious Petty, do you know how hard it is to get a teacher to come out to places like this?” 

“ I don’t know why we have to go to school at all, I don’t see why it matters anymore.” 

“ Listen to me Petty Morel, we maybe living out in the middle of nowhere in these godforsaken mountains, but our family has been well educated since we left our home in Transylvania and I see no reason now why that should stop. Do you understand me?” 

Then Petty’s Mother handed him a shovel, gave him a good solid whack on his backside and she sent Petty out back to dig the only grave they ever needed in the little town called Deuil.

Spend H’Ween with A.P.A.R.T

A.P.A.R.T. will be spending Halloween with the Meeker Mansion.
They will have a booth set up to discuss their investigation, disclose their
findings, and share stories of ghosts, spooks and the paranormal.

contact info:

info@apartofwa.com

note from

FROM

REGAN:

I just wanted to add as well that we’ve done a couple additional investigations, with great results.

But you have to come see us to discuss those results, hear them, and see them.

*wink*

This is a kid friendly event.

!!!!!EXTRA!!!!

for an exclusive article by

Regan

from

A.P.A.R.T

CLICK HERE

 

Six More Days!

As you may know Halloween Is Coming

Here’s a song about a Mummy-

Okay, you know this isn’t what you think it’s going to be about, right?

So enjoy.

 

Family Ties

 

Orcella Moss sat at his kitchen table with a small box of bones in front of him. Every once and awhile he’d reach out and jiggle the box around and then he’d look down into the top of it and sometimes he’d start to reach into it and then he’d stop.
 
Then he moved the box back to the center of the table and he wondered.
  
He wondered where his 13-year-old daughter could have found a human jawbone and other broken little pieces of bone and how it all ended up in an old fashion hatbox mixed up with the bits and pieces of her day-to-day life.
 
Orcella could hear her up in her room; a little while ago he had heard her TV go on, then he heard a beep and whine and then a hum as her computer came to life and he wondered how that little monster could do anything as normal as hit on and off switches when she’d been living in the same room with a busted human jaw bone, a mummified finger and little bits of bone in a hatbox she had left on her desk top.

Earlier that morning Orcella had gone up to Kirsten’s room to liberate the batteries from the remote control for the TV in the living room that somehow always found their way upstairs to Kirsten’s room and into her remote control.

That’s when he saw the old box with the faded candy pink stripes sitting on her desk and almost as an after thought looked down into it.
 
The box was right next to her California Cutie doll and her makeup (cotton candy flavored lipstick and some blush-on) and her hairbrush and a little bottle of perfume she’d mixed herself at Scent By You at the Mall.
 
And in the middle of all of that junk was the hatbox with the jawbone that was on the table in front of him now. He looked into the box one more time and that’s when he noticed the nail on the finger was manicured and polished and had a tiny rainbow decal near it’s tip.
 
 “ Kirsten,” he called up to her “ come on down here for a second, would you?”
 
He heard the sound go down on the TV and she called back, “ What?”
 
“ I want to talk to you.”
 
“ Busy.” She called back in her best little girl in the world voice.

Then not only did the TV go back on it went up.
 
“ Kirsten get down here.”
 
“ This better be important Dad,” she snapped back from over the racket “ cause I’m…”
 
“ Missing something from off your desk. So get down here NOW.”
 
The TV clicked off and the computer hummed and shut down. He could hear Kirsten walking across her bedroom floor. He heard the door open and then close and then the sound of her footsteps at the top of the stairs.

 “ This is very serious Dad.” He heard her walking down the steps “ You need to respect me and my privacy.”
 
She was standing in the kitchen now. Her mouth was a hard straight line and her chin was tilted up and she looked down her nose at him, “ That box is mine and what’s in it is mine and I want it back.”
 
“ I want to know where you found this Kirsten, for heaven’s sake Kid, this is a human jaw bone and what are these? “ he held the box up and shook it at her.
 
“ Finger bones, “ she held her hand up ‘ fingertip bones, I don’t know exactly but they’re mine Daddy and I want them back.”
 
“ Just answer me, where did you find this stuff?’ she was looking at him with a dull flat expression and he knew very well by the look on her face she hadn’t ‘found’ anything. Not in this condition anyway.

He tried another tact.
 
“ Kirsten these are human remains and you had them mixed in with your makeup, some CD’s and a half eaten candy bar and a stale bagel. Do you know how abnormal that is?”
 
It was very clear by the way she was still looking down her nose that she did know and that she also didn’t care.
 
“ Give me back my things Daddy.” She said in her best schoolmarm voice. “ Or else.”
 
“ Or what Kirsten? Am I going to end up in a box on your desk with candy bar wrappers and a half eaten bagel?”
 
“ No, but you know that thing you have hidden in the basement? If you want it back Daddy you’ll hand that box over right now.”
 
“ You didn’t…”
 
“ I mean it Daddy, hand the box over right now.”
 
He practically threw it at her and as she bent over to pick up some of the little bones that had fallen out she said, “ you’re gross Daddy “ she said with disgust “ I can’t believe you brought that into our house and hid it in a trunk with the Christmas ornaments. That’s twisted.”

She was looking into the box and then she looked around on the floor and came back up with the finger with the nail still attached and she dropped it into the box. “ You’re sick Daddy, you need help.”

Orcella watched Kirsten stomp up the stairs, he heard the door slam shut and the music go on full blast. It was loud;  loud enough to shake the pictures on the wall, loud enough to attract attention,  loud enough to maybe force  the neighbors to call the police and complain.

Orcella didn’t go up the stairs, he went back into his kitchen and down the steps to the basement…and then he started to clear the Christmas ornaments out of the trunk.

Jeremy Bentham’s Head Fell Off

Jeremy Bentham was an interesting guy who advocated for things like equal rights for women and the abolition of slavery.

Among the many other important things Jeremy Bentham accomplished I also learned that he had written into his Will that his body be preserved, stored in a cabinet and brought out for special board meetings.

Then one day his head, which was not preserved well…fell off. So they made a wax one and stuck his real head between his feet ( see picture above) .

Jeremy Bentham’s Head

I’m sorry to say I couldn’t have made this stuff up…

darn it.

 

Jeremy Bentham (26 February [O.S. 15 February 15] 1748) – June 6, 1832) was an English jurist, philosopher, and legal and social reformer. He was a political radical and a leading theorist in Anglo-American philosophy of law. He is best known as an early advocate of utilitarianism and fair treatment of animals who influenced the development of liberalism.

Nothing But The Night

 

It was only five doors down to her own house; a three minute walk on a well lit street on a quiet cold night last October.

But that didn’t matter because Damiana Dergmuse knew she was in trouble the minute that door shut behind her and she heard the tumblers in the lock grind together. 

With that sound that half block turned into miles and she was going to have to walk it all alone.

” There’s nothing to be afraid of, ” she told herself out loud. ” There’s nothing out here now that isn’t out here when the lights are on. “

Then she took a deep breath and it froze in her chest and she was about to run back into the house she had just come out of because that rah-rah speech she had just given herself wasn’t going to work.

In fact she was about to have a nervous breakdown right there on the street and how would that look?

It was settled she was turning back.

Before she turned around she told herself one more time…she could do this.

It was only five doors down and she’d be there in seconds, minutes if she could just put one foot in front of the other and move.

Then each of those steps would add up until she would be through her own front door and she would find herself in the safety of her own room and the cinnamon smell that always filled her house during the winter months.

Wouldn’t that be better then sitting in front of a neighbor’s fireplace, in a neighbor’s chair, petting a neighbor’s cat in a neighbor’s house?

Of course it would be better to be in her own home so Damiana started to walk and as she passed the first house she heard a thump, thump and then a drag and a hiss and she realized that was the sound of her own heart stopping and starting in her own chest.

” Stupid woman ” she told herself.

She put her hand to her heart and felt to make sure that it was still beating and when she felt it pound against her hand she started to walk again.

And almost hidden under the sounds of her own foot steps and rapid breathing she heard something sliding across the pavement behind her.

What she heard was a dragging sound, metal against concrete and as much as she wanted to stop and turn around to find out what could be making such an awful sound she couldn’t because now she was three doors down from her own home and in the horizon she could see a thin line of orange in the skyline.

Damiana was sure of one thing, that’s not the last thing she wanted to see on this Earth, so she walked a little faster and as she did the sky filled with crows, hundreds of them and they were flying east.

The sun was coming up, and the thin line in the horizon got a little wider and Damiana could hardly breath and behind her the dragging sound got a little louder and a little heavier and she was determined that sound wouldn’t be the last thing she would hear in this life so she picked up her feet and ran.

The scraping sound got louder and she heard a whoosh and she flew up her stairs and to her door and she pushed it open and without turning around slammed it behind herself.

It was morning and the sun was coming through the windows and outside she could hear birds singing and with that sound ringing in her ears she ran faster up the stairs to the top floor of her house.

” Made it!” she cried with relief, ” I’ve made it!”

Then she laid down on her bed and she said as slammed the coffin lid shut over her head, ” There’s nothing out there to be afraid of…not now anyway.”

Once Upon A Midnight….

Me and some of my friends from The Soul Food Cafe

Have started to put up some Halloween Posts at

Mrs Parson’s House.

It’s bare bones ( ahem ) for now but we hope to flesh it out ( ha ) as we get closer to the big day-

So stop on by for some Halloween Fun HERE

 Lator Gators

amm

By Livia Longyear

Every Halloween people pay good money to stay at the Longyear Hotel in a little town called Duwamish Bay.

By candlelight they listen to stories about the odd  history of Duwamish Bay and the strange story about a woman who wrote books  for another person whose name is very famous in the world of horror and about how she buried the dead by night and how sometimes she would haunt the roads and hills by moonlight looking for stories.

Once a man from a little town in Kansas flew all the out to Duwamish Bay and he checked into the hotel and asked for Livia’s room.

” Guests don’t stay in that room, ” Mr Longyear, the owner of the Inn said. ” We actually rent out her writing room, which if you’d care to see it-”

” I wouldn’t ” Parker Overland said ” I’d like to stay in Livia’s room, isn’t that your stock and trade here? Stay in the room where a real, how do you put it ” Ghost Writer ” once lived?”

” Sir, that’s what I’m saying…she wrote her novels upstairs in the sitting room – she didn’t write them in her bedroom…”

” I understand you, what I’m saying is, I want to stay in Livia Longyear’s bedroom, I want to know what she saw just before she fell asleep at night and I want to know what it was she saw when she opened her eyes. That’s what I want.”

” Mr. Overland, it’s bare bones in there and not very comfortable. Livia’s bedroom is the oldest room in the house. Her sitting room though is available for private parties- and we do have a few hours free where you can have the room to yourself. We even have a guide available to – ”

” Look Sir ” Mr. Overland glared down into the small dark face of Mr Longyear ” I want to get inside of this writer’s head, I want to know why she wrote stories for someone else that made them famous and why she allowed her to die in obscurity as a retired gravedigger in a town whose main stock and trade is a permanent Sideshow and an abandoned Insane Asylum. I want to understand it all.”

” A lot of people ask those questions Mr Overland and they don’t need to stay in Livia’ bedroom to do it. ”

” Of course they do, but this woman has been inside of my head for over 30 years and I think it’s only fair that now I get inside of her head and walk around for awhile.”

Mr Overland’s face was not filled with excitement or curiosity. It was not earnest. He looked like a man who had spent a sleepless night being tormented by a mosquito.That’s what Mr Overland looked like and he was doing it right in the middle of the place Livia Longyear called home.

An hour or so later Mr. Overland had his way which was no a surprise to him. 

Parker Overland was used to getting it and at the moment he was very annoyed at the short uppity man with the funny name who thought he could change that simple fact of nature.

Mrs. Longyear came into the Parlor with a little drink for Parker and she handed it to him.

” I’ve called my daughter in to get Livia’s room ready. She takes care of those things for me. “Cardela Longyear held her hands up; they were twisted and swollen with arthritis. This is what happens when you get old I suppose.”

” I suppose. “Parker held the glass up to Cardela and downed his drink and placed it back on the tray and then Cardela turned her back and right there in front of Parker Overland eyes the world filled with stars and then darkness and he fell into it over and over and over again.

” Done? ” Cardela called to her daughter who was working in Livia’ s room.

” Yeah Ma, but let me tell you it wasn’t easy. Wow that was a mess. Whose idea was it to let her bedroom? Lolo’s?”

” It was your Father’s.”

Sunny leaned against the door and asked, ” how come this guy? ”

” Your father has a good sense about people Sunny. If he thought it was best to give this man what he wanted then it was the best decision. Besides, this Mr. Overland was specific. He wanted to see what Livia saw when she opened eyes.”

” Whatever. People are weird. When’s dinner I’m starved…”

Sunny was about to walk by her Mother when Cardela swiped at her daughter’s arm. Sunny grabbed it as if a board had just hit her and she hissed, ” Cool it Ma that one hurt.”

” You’re not done, I’ll bet you left the lights on and a mess in there…go finish.”

Sunny rolled her eyes up and opened the little door that led from the kitchen to Livia’ s bedroom downstairs.

Everyone in the family knew that Livia wrote her books in her bedroom. And in Sunny’s opinion it would have made her family a lot more money if they’d just told the truth.

But Cardela didn’t want people walking in and out of her kitchen all day so they moved Livia’s  desk upstairs and left all the rest downstairs.

Besides, Livia’s desk was the important thing- that’s where the family would find her neatly written manuscripts waiting for them to send out when she was done writing.

Sunny walked across the room she had fixed up and she guessed, as she swept up the dust from around the marble crypt in the center of the room,  that just about now Mr. Overland was about to see what it was Livia saw when she opened her eyes.

 

Monster Mash At The Bridge!

Hands down ( at least six feet under ) this is the BEST Monster Mash

Video around so check it out and

GET DOWN!

Dig It

get your tombstone here

Story Start-lers!

Here’s a little treat for you….these are my favorite spooky story starters from the Soul Food Cafe

Enjoy!

Inner Ear

Crime Baron’s Table

The Old Farmhouse

The Raven Project

The Red Death

Romancing The Ruins

Werewolves

Flies Rule The World

Wicked Midnight Garden

Cavana Devaney

 

Cavana Devaney’s house has windows between its walls.

The windows have been painted black and they’ve been nailed shut and even though there is no sunlight here they are still warm to the touch.

” Almost done? ” A voice called into Cavana’ s house, ” It’s getting late and I don’t want to drive over Old Creek in the dark. That place creeps me out. ”

” Oh yeah? Why’s that? ”

” Cause it’s haunted. ”

” Please.”

” But it’s true, I heard that years ago some crazy woman buried some Aliens under the Bridge and when they started to rot everyone in town got sick.”

Cavana’s House listened and the lace curtains that covered her windows stopped stirring and in the darkest corners a little light made it’s way in.

” You work in a funeral home you ding bat, have you ever seen a ghost?”

” No.”

” Then why are you afraid of that Bridge? ”

The Strange voices wandered through Cavana’s House, stopping here and there to smooth, straighten and make right ruined pieces of furniture.

They fixed and restored fixtures.

And with skilled hands they brought Cavana’s House back to life.

” Because it’s haunted. ”

” Fine, it’s haunted, but by what? ”

” Ghosts. Look, just because I’ve never seen one doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Maybe we’re just not looking in the right places.”

” Geeze, are you going to close up here or should I? ”

” Go ahead.” Roman Droguett said to his partner Lister ” But you’ve been out there, you know something is out on that Bridge. Everybody knows it. Everybody’s known it since the year that woman found those bones hanging from the tree at the north end of the Bridge.You’re just so blind you can’t see what’s under your own nose.”

” How true ” thought Cavana’s House as the Mortician named Lister closed the incision just above her collarbone with heavy white thread ” How true.”

Say What?

 

Where there is no imagination there is no horror.
– – -Sir Arthur Conan Doyle—