I have this friend….

I have this- a- friend who has an unusal hobby.

She, this friend that I sort of know collects fake shrunken heads.

I asked this, um, friend if it started with the Vincent Price make it yourself kits.

They were popular when we were kids

You made shrunken heads out of apples:

My friend said that’s what she used at first. But it if you weren’t carefull the apples would attract flies, and that is the mark of an amateur. You know. Attracting flies.

I said I didn’t understand and my friend sort of winced and said ‘nevermind’.

She did say that she took classes and learned to make them from skin- goat’s  skin she said with a rush. Then said cool as you please she prefered pig because it was more human looking.

And when my friend smiled she said quickly:

I’m all about the details you know.So I was admiring my friend’s-  and  like I said I don’t know her super well or anything and I hardly ever see her- prized homemade collection of shrunken heads that are on a shelf next to her living room door.

They were the first thing you noticed when you walked into her house…not that I’ve done that often or anything,

Anyway.

They were so real, I swear you could hear then screaming.

” Why do you keep them there?” I asked this acquaintance of mine,

” Oh. You know, Sometimes people with…unusal hobbies like to brag about what they do but they really can’t because you know, it’s just awkward, So they find other ways of telling people about what they get up to.”

I told this friend that I see maybe a couple a times every few years- sometimes and not on purpose.

I understood.

Completely.

Dreams Of The Dead

Grave Tale of The Funeral Director, The Hearse and The Empty Coffin

Once someone asked me what was the strangest Funeral Home story I had ever heard was and this is it:

Years and years ago, I think it was in the 1930’s a local funeral director left in the company hearse to, as it’s put in the business ‘ do a removal’.

He left in the late in the afternoon, and because it was around late October it was already getting dark and it was foggy. You could hardly see your hand in front of your face.

But there was no way this Funeral Director was going to leave a family in emotional distress with a the remains of a loved one cooling in their house so he made the drive.

He must have driven slow in the less then half light and the fog in his big black hearse. He must have  inched his way slowly around the road that ran above the icy river below.

When he got to the bridge that lead to his turn off his car was completely  swallowed by the fog. Still,  I imagine you could hear the tires working their way over the wooden bridge…

and then all you could hear was the river.

He never made it to the other side.

It was quite a mystery.

The Funeral Director who disappeared, hearse and all on the way to a call.

It was made a great Halloween story.

And then years later they found the hearse and the funeral director and the empty coffin still waiting for the corpse the Funeral Director was supposed to pick up when he disappeared on that October afternoon.

Strange, or not so strange depending on your point of view  was where they found them.

They  found them in the river, almost directly under the bridge they were crossing over all those years ago.

I drove over that bridge several times in a hearse myself over seventy years later, I made  my last drive over it two years before they found the Funeral Director, The Hearse and The Empty Coffin.

When I think of The Funeral Director, I think of him in the drivers’s seat, his hands clutching the steering wheel, his head tilted  towards the surface of the water and  when I think about all those times I drove over him-

I hope his eyes were closed.

Hope Is Eternal

Today I passed a woman in the hall.

She was dressed in black from head to toe, I thought she was wearing a veil and then I realized her face was truly-  and now that I think about it I am grateful- that her face was actually shrouded in darkness.

The woman  cloaked in layers of shadows turned and walked into a wall and as she did I heard a sound like ice crackling in a glass of water.

I don’t think she saw me as she disappeared into oblivion.

At least.

I hope she didn’t see me.

Can You See The Window Sane?

I’ve been posting pictures of ‘haunted houses’ on my Facebook pages.

Okay, they’re not haunted houses exactly, but if I were a ghost I’d be happy to live there…or haunt there…you know what I mean.

So one day I get a message from my friend who is a school teacher. Her students, who are around 9 or 10 years old love those pictures. She’s been using them as story starters and the kids have been coming up with great ideas.

And then she told me they also told her what is really neat are the faces in the windows.

They love to see those faces.

I haven’t looked for them myself

I’m not so sure I want to.

Choices!

I remember standing in front of those Halloween Costumes at Woolworths, it was torture.

What was I going to be?

A monster? Speed Racer? A princess? What???? What was I going to be? Why didn’t I think ahead? Why didn’t I plan? Why were there so many darn boxes to choose from?

One year I did plan. I was proud of myself. I put a lot of thought into it too.

I was six.

I told my Mom I wanted to be a monster and she said…

” Good. So we don’t have to buy a costume. Let’s go. “

I’ll give my Mom this: When she is right, she is right.

amm

Home Scream Home

“Turn away,” the dark man groaned with a desperate look in his haunted
eyes.

She was standing next to him in that hallway that led to the basement in his own home. His own home. What a laugh. How could he have not known that monster had been under his feet for all of these years?”

That room and it’s dog- the woman standing next to him- had been master of his house all along.

” I don’t think so Chuck.”

” You’re going to kill me. ” he said. ”  The very least you could do is not look like you’re going to enjoy it so much.”

” You’re a fine one to lecture anybody about murder Chuck. And I’ve been at this way longer then you. Guess what. I wasn’t aware there were rules. Did Emily Post write a book on the subject? Because I LOVE Emily and I don’t see how that one could have got passed me.”

” You truly are evil.”

” No. I’m more of a concept. Now that basement of yours. Wow. That truly IS evil. I mean. Oh boy. It’s bad. Seriously Chuck. Did you think you were in charge of what happened down there? Really?

Because let me tell you. Do you really believe  someone who started off in this life with hurting small animals worked his way up to helpless women and children all by himself? Come on. Really. Think about it.”

” What’s down there. ” Chuck wondered out loud.

And then Chuck insisted, his voice choking tears  ” It was me. It was me. I did all of those things…me. Nothing is down there. Just me. It’s was all me.”

” You were a nightmare Chuck. ” she opened the door and pushed him through and down he fell ” Meet the dreamer.”

The WItching Hour Is Upon Us

 

The WItching Hour Is Upon Us

It’s getting closer…and closer and closer

and before you know it

it will be close enough to reach out and touch you. 

Good luck with that.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Indeed It Is