tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40009412055035020112024-03-13T09:54:43.848-07:00A Whisper in the DarkA writer's mind...A peek behind the curtain...Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-69516536464777973522021-03-10T11:19:00.000-08:002021-03-10T11:19:32.827-08:00What??<p>I asked Siri if I could make au jus sauce from beef boullion and this is what it heard...</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqZDeil1-y-Dh6zlbdsNI9wzQCHhNGQzzfjPMhAQ7Grc9UavLMmeOOWIrFQMBTggdJesk-3tZ6Ba6KeRrsE5OouEAlUxJNWJ99hruXSPggQ6DlB1HpgIbCzs9dX3ZCrAh2tcAGh7k1pw/s1136/IMG_1070.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqZDeil1-y-Dh6zlbdsNI9wzQCHhNGQzzfjPMhAQ7Grc9UavLMmeOOWIrFQMBTggdJesk-3tZ6Ba6KeRrsE5OouEAlUxJNWJ99hruXSPggQ6DlB1HpgIbCzs9dX3ZCrAh2tcAGh7k1pw/s320/IMG_1070.PNG" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-6599224223730081192021-03-09T15:53:00.001-08:002021-03-09T15:53:41.585-08:00Hey Rocky!!!<span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Finally, after five years of working in the salt mines and grist mills of the criminal justice system I am peeking my head out to see if I can still pull a rabbit out of my hat. </span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8qWcu2XkbIJobusm60s-F67VxXYpMLxNtNXVvndJQU_wapY8sSn1e6D8RgLiMGShva1Lt3AYXHTgocyrBw20bICVAdwDTVnl_VylJdrVc5XSgSB-ZrbAHskftbZWgjp8NjJ06uBLbTw/s2048/lucy-m-KNMbRhf5IT8-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="647" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8qWcu2XkbIJobusm60s-F67VxXYpMLxNtNXVvndJQU_wapY8sSn1e6D8RgLiMGShva1Lt3AYXHTgocyrBw20bICVAdwDTVnl_VylJdrVc5XSgSB-ZrbAHskftbZWgjp8NjJ06uBLbTw/w431-h647/lucy-m-KNMbRhf5IT8-unsplash.jpg" width="431" /></a></div><br /></div>Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-8917387889894982802015-10-31T11:44:00.002-07:002015-10-31T11:44:12.440-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Cottage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5yQC40tq2b7R1qzmI8iYsCYNIBR8lgHy6wldFry1lqJINYLVkXOqUR3VHQj0pzbGlcDm6sgEqAftLFMVxWjf3Syb6XlfJDsbjW-7m8WGtRo8rTdy6NfcsC5nXzJ5X21EprVRUqJwH48/s1600/Abandoned_Gingerbread_House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5yQC40tq2b7R1qzmI8iYsCYNIBR8lgHy6wldFry1lqJINYLVkXOqUR3VHQj0pzbGlcDm6sgEqAftLFMVxWjf3Syb6XlfJDsbjW-7m8WGtRo8rTdy6NfcsC5nXzJ5X21EprVRUqJwH48/s640/Abandoned_Gingerbread_House.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
For my final tale, a delicious taste of an old favorite entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Cottage</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
"Let's go camping he said…. It'll be fun he said. "<br />
<br />
My sarcasm not being lost on him, Harrison glared at me through one partially open green eye. The other eye which was also green, was swollen shut and showed no sign of being able to open, let alone glare.<br />
<br />
I glanced up at the darkening sky above us. Being the queen of stating the obvious I quipped, "It's getting dark already."<br />
<br />
"We will find our way back to the RV, babe. All we have to do is go North."<br />
<br />
It took every reserve ounce of patience I had left not to bop him upside his head.<br />
<br />
"And which way would that be, Oh Great Indian Navigator? The closest you ever came to being an outdoorsman was the time you took me hiking in Griffith Park." The one green eye turned one shade darker. "And if I remember correctly, we got lost then too."<br />
<br />
I could tell Harrison Michael O'Grady's Irish temper was about to get the better of him as I watched him choke down a nasty remark as if it was a bitter piece of fruit.<br />
<br />
"Okay smartass, well, I know it is getting dark and if nothing else we should be able to follow the North Star."<br />
<br />
How this Venice Beach born and raised Angeleno might recognize the North Star even if it fell on his big head was beyond me but for the moment I refrained from asking him.<br />
<br />
"You mean you want to stay here until it gets <i>completely</i> dark?"<br />
<br />
His face turned the color of the poison ivy that had been the cause of his swollen eye, without the shine.<br />
<br />
"No Gill, we don't have to wait for it to get dark. I am fairly sure we are going in the right direction already."<br />
<br />
Whether or not he noticed my condescending tone, he never said and without so much as a look in my direction, he walked off through the thick web of shrubbery mumbling beneath his breath.<br />
<br />
"And besides, the North star can be seen before dark."<br />
<br />
Once again I fought the overwhelming urge to slap him.<br />
<br />
I thought about sitting down at that moment, right there in a pile of wet, decaying October leaves and just let him go off on his own but the trip to Maine had been my idea after all, although to be fair to myself I had envisioned a queen size down quilted bed in a quaint, and warm, Bed and Breakfast in Portland and not the motorized hotel room that we had driven up in from Boston.<br />
<br />
Suddenly it didn't seem so bad, the massive RV sitting back at the scenic overlook, now vacant save for our ten year old Golden Retriever, Mr. Darcy, and our cell phones which Harrison had insisted upon leaving behind.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“We need to unplug, babe. Just leave them here.”</i><br />
<br />
The poor boy was going to be wanting outside soon, luckily I had left enough food and water down for him and even though we might die out here in the Mashapequot Woods, Mr. Darcy would be just fine for a couple of days at least.<br />
<br />
Alhough I was quite sure the carpet by the camper door would be a goner if we didn't make it back before long.<br />
<br />
Pointing out that fact to Harrison as we were trudging through the dense coppice that appeared to ramble on for as far as we could see, and the fact that his thousand dollar deposit would disappear right along with the carpet, did not seem to be a wise move on my part so for once I kept my over exuberant mouth shut and followed him further into the woods.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<br />
"Do you smell cinnamon?"<br />
<br />
Harrison crinkled his perfect Celtic nose and frowned. “Not really cinnamon I don’t think.” He looked at the massive maple tree that he was currently leaning against as if he might discover the origin of the smell from within.<br />
<br />
“I smell something but I really can't tell what it is." He turned his head around to look at me and I could see the puzzlement in his eyes. "It reminds me of something but I can't quite put my finger on it."<br />
<br />
The soft scent reminded me of something as well, something sweet yet rotten like an overly ripe cantaloupe that has just gone bad.<br />
<br />
It still smelled good though, good enough to eat you might say, even though it would most likely make you sick and you would spend the next day or so praying to the porcelain God or at the very least, sitting upon his throne.<br />
<br />
This knowledge however, did nothing to dispel the urge to indulge in the dark sappy sweetness that was still there even when you knew better.<br />
<br />
<i>Tempting.</i><br />
<br />
That was what it was. The smell was tempting you to come forth and eat even when you knew if you did, you were damned.<br />
<br />
“Maybe there is a house near by.”<br />
<br />
By this time full night had arrived right on schedule and with a thick cloud covering kissed with the promise of rain later on, not one single star, including the great all knowing North Star, was in sight. Not to mention that the blackness that currently shrouded us gave no indication that there was any house in our vicinity, and certainly none where someone was doing some very fragrant late evening baking.<br />
<br />
And while all this was true, it did nothing to explain the fact that the scent was still there, even though we couldn’t comprehend where it was coming from or why it might exist in these remote Maine woods to begin with.<br />
<br />
“It sure smells… good.” There was a hint of a question in Harrison’s voice that suddenly seemed quite faraway as he if we were talking to me on some ancient overseas telephone line where you can only guess at exactly where they might be.<br />
<br />
I shouldn't have asked the question of a man who thought he could follow the North Star to safety but I couldn't help it.<br />
<br />
"Do you think you can find where it's coming from?"<br />
<br />
"Of course," he said without so much as a second's hesitation. "It's really close I think."<br />
<br />
Without another word Harrison disappeared in front of me, slipping further into the darkness of the forest.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<br />
<br />
"There it is. That is where the smell is coming from I bet."<br />
<br />
Now I am from New England and as such I have seen every type of architecture there is but this house was a new one even for me.<br />
<br />
It was your basic two story Cape style and at first I thought there was nothing odd about it at all, other than the fact that it was out here in the middle of nowhere.<br />
<br />
"I told you I could find it. We should go and see if anyone is home."<br />
<br />
I grabbed his arm before he could move any closer.<br />
<br />
"Wait, Harrison. Something isn't right."<br />
<br />
"What? Look Gill, we are lost and this is the only house we have come across in four hours."<br />
<br />
"There is something familiar about this house. I have seen it somewhere before."<br />
<br />
"What do you mean? Do you know who lives here?"<br />
<br />
"Maybe. Just maybe."<br />
<br />
I snuck up closer to the cottage until I could peek into the window.<br />
<br />
"Harrison, come here. And be very quiet."<br />
<br />
"What is this siding on here? Is it cork of some kind?<br />
<br />
"No, it's gingerbread. Look."<br />
<br />
We both stared as the old hag inside twirled and danced around her kitchen. The stove was covered with steaming pots and a large industrial size oven was wide open just waiting for something to be put inside.<br />
<br />
I heard a soft whimper come from somewhere inside the cottage then I heard Harrison gasp.<br />
<br />
"She has Mr. Darcy."<br />
<br />
The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I froze. I almost asked him if he was sure but from the look on his face, I could tell he was.<br />
<br />
"Where is he? Do you see him?"<br />
<br />
Harrison gagged. "She has him in a roasting pan."<br />
<br />
I couldn't see what he was looking at nor did I care. There are times when instinct takes over and your better judgment goes right out the window, or in this case, right in the window.<br />
<br />
I was inside the witch's cottage before you could say Jack Robinson and Harrison was right behind me.<br />
<br />
As shocked as the hag was to see us come crawling through her window she wasn't nearly as shocked as I was to see my poor Darcy lying in a large roasting pan, tressed up with baking string like a Thanksgiving turkey.<br />
<br />
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"<br />
<br />
I did notice the hag was wielding a very large carving knife but honestly, I didn't give a rat's arse.<br />
<br />
I was already five steps ahead of him by the time Harrison stepped in front of me and told me to get the dog.<br />
<br />
The witch made the mistake of coming towards me when she should have been much more worried about Harrison. Before she could raise her knife to strike, Harrison tackled her like USCSB football player he was in his college days.<br />
<br />
The witch, the knife, and Harrison all went flying but I lost sight of all of them as I tried to cut away the string that had my poor dog bound.<br />
<br />
Harrison could take care of himself and I would deal with her when Darcy was free.<br />
<br />
Darcy was biting what he could of the string and I was yanking on the rest. It probably took no more than seconds to release him but at the time it seemed like an eternity until he was free and able to jump off the table. Without fear for himself he ran towards Harrison to see if his master needed any assistance.<br />
<br />
Harrison did not.<br />
<br />
I called Darcy back to me and the two of us stood in the corner and watched Harrison take care of business as he always had.<br />
<br />
The nearly unconscious witch was neatly folded in half and popped into the waiting oven. There was nothing at first but after a moment or two the screaming began.<br />
<br />
There was always screaming.<br />
<br />
"I can't believe we went on vacation and you still had to work."<br />
<br />
Harrison refused to look at me as he held the oven door shut until the screaming stopped.<br />
<br />
"Harrison?"<br />
<br />
Harrison peeked into the oven and satisfied there was nothing more than ash left inside, turned the oven off. He is a stickler about wasting energy.<br />
<br />
"Harrison, did you know there was a witch in these woods?"<br />
<br />
When he finally looked at me he had a wild, guilty grin on his face.<br />
<br />
"I couldn't help it. You know how hard it is for me to take time off and just relax and I knew you would get ticked if you knew."<br />
<br />
He was right about that. The man simply loved his job way too much and getting him to take time off was like pulling teeth.<br />
<br />
I scratched Mr. Darcy's ears. "That's all well and fine for you Mr. Witch Hunter, but you nearly got our dog eaten."<br />
<br />
Another voice came from outside the front door.<br />
<br />
"Darcy was never in any danger, I was here all the time."<br />
<br />
Hansel.<br />
<br />
The cousins embraced then stood next to each other like two proud peacocks and exchanged fist bumps.<br />
<br />
I wanted to belt them both.<br />
<br />
Men.<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-54147741056618376952015-10-30T11:10:00.001-07:002015-10-30T11:10:56.871-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Traditions <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizW8pxBoXNjlKJLu3hsSlo2xmmnzejLKi1oYrduD7IiFZHBVeRR5y16oD29sbmK7BobH9d7_4IG2qNWTa_Ovdf_Ll5oHQNN1AVI1puiI22D5WgKC7rnkloctjku-H5qFqqsBqeE6y6guE/s1600/jack-o-lantern-05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizW8pxBoXNjlKJLu3hsSlo2xmmnzejLKi1oYrduD7IiFZHBVeRR5y16oD29sbmK7BobH9d7_4IG2qNWTa_Ovdf_Ll5oHQNN1AVI1puiI22D5WgKC7rnkloctjku-H5qFqqsBqeE6y6guE/s400/jack-o-lantern-05.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A childish tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Traditions</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Chris sat down on the front step next to his younger sister. "Are you ready? We are going to this just like last time."<br />
<br />
Candice frowned. "Are you sure? I mean.. the last time.. it made such a mess."<br />
<br />
"It can't be helped. We have to do this before they get back. What would happen if we were still doing it when they got home?"<br />
<br />
Candice nodded gloomily. "I know. You're right. We would be in trouble."<br />
<br />
"Now, get the knife and the plastic trash bag. We can put all the guts in there."<br />
<br />
"Sometimes I just hate to do it. She is so beautiful just like she is."<br />
<br />
"Candice, we have to do it. It's Halloween."<br />
<br />
Chris thrust the knife through the skin, stabbing the pulpy flesh below.<br />
<br />
"And what would Halloween be without Jack O'Lanterns."<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-79270247650067498042015-10-29T09:22:00.000-07:002015-10-29T09:22:22.587-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Sisters Van Helsing - Part 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsYUIAWEWgPJ3H58Op2KjpwFFmCVyBCguavmKqMAD0mp-IK6GUHvZrbBwROTCxiTLjG-295Uxcit0AsTrpOm-UEZsaovqEZX4Yczx-IAFEWcgkdQ-SNxgeRVnV2WahnQKyFIwbdXKZnw/s1600/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsYUIAWEWgPJ3H58Op2KjpwFFmCVyBCguavmKqMAD0mp-IK6GUHvZrbBwROTCxiTLjG-295Uxcit0AsTrpOm-UEZsaovqEZX4Yczx-IAFEWcgkdQ-SNxgeRVnV2WahnQKyFIwbdXKZnw/s400/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The final chapter in the tale of two sisters:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Sisters Van Helsing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Part 4</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
This was not my first rodeo with the spirit world and it would most certainly not be my last but I have to admit there was a moment of doubt when I saw Richie heading towards me, jaw set, eyes clear, machete raised, but like the Victrola, the steel blade lacked substance in a metaphysical way.<br />
<br />
Which honestly, did not make me any less afraid, I had already seen what non-physical beings had done to Mitch and if I didn't want to be jumping right behind him, I figured I had best not let my guard down for a second.<br />
<br />
The white cloud from my breath was practically blocking my view as I strode carefully down the hall. My brain was telling me to run but I thought avoiding both Richie and the woman would be the best plan of action for me to retain my sanity. Or what was left of it anyway.<br />
<br />
Richard was running but it was more like a slow motion movie sequence to me. He brought down the machete as I easily slipped by him and although that machete wasn't real exactly, I could have sworn I heard the swoosh of the metal as it passed by my ear. <br />
<br />
Luckily I was slightly faster than he was. The Van Gogh look was not something I was going for.<br />
<br />
In three long strides I reached the door to my room and grabbed the knob to go in.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the door I had left slightly ajar was now shut and locked. And the key was on the other side.<br />
<br />
"Damn it!"<br />
<br />
Yes, I cursed again.<br />
<br />
Ramirez and the woman laughed behind me.<br />
<br />
<br />
While I was pretty sure the Very Odd Couple couldn't hurt me physically, 'pretty sure' wasn't something I was willing to bet on at the moment. Forgetting all hotel manners and propriety, I began to scream and bang on the door to our room praying that my sister hadn't stuck in a pair of earplugs while I was gone on my quest to silence the music.<br />
<br />
She hadn't.<br />
<br />
"What the hell, Dee?"<br />
<br />
"I forgot the key."<br />
<br />
"Why would you leave the room without the key? It's a hotel for heaven's sake."<br />
<br />
I thought perhaps the hallway with a deranged satan worshiping serial killer ghost coming after me wasn't the best place for this conversation so I pushed her back into the room, slammed the door, and locked all four locks.<br />
<br />
I don't know what I thought that was going to do against someone that could clearly walk through the door, locked or not, but I wasn't thinking clearly.<br />
<br />
"Put some clothes on. I need your help."<br />
<br />
Lori took one look at my face and didn't argue for a change.<br />
<br />
She pulled her jeans and shoes on and asked me what was going on. I gave her the Reader's Digest version.<br />
<br />
"Okay. I am not too worried about the couple in the hallway. They sound resourceful but they would have hurt me when they locked the door if they could have. "<br />
<br />
"And the Black Dahlia?"<br />
<br />
"Her, I am a little more worried about. She has gotten inside his head and Lord knows if I can turn that around in time."<br />
<br />
She grabbed her purse and the velvet pouch that she was never without, tucked the room key into her pocket and took my hand as we stepped back out into the hallway.<br />
<br />
Richard Ramirez and company were gone for the moment and we hurried down the frigid hall.<br />
<br />
The door to Mitch's room was now completely frosted over as if a winter storm had just dropped by for a visit and when I knocked, it burned my hand.<br />
<br />
No answer.<br />
<br />
"Do you think he already jumped?"<br />
<br />
"No, I think we would have heard sirens if he had. Step back."<br />
<br />
Lori and our brother Abe both have a multitude of natural abilities that for some reason I do not. They were born with them, I was born with a love for reading and black and white horror movies, along a tendency to get myself into trouble.<br />
<br />
Lori pulled a tiny vial from the pouch, whispered what I guessed was a prayer of some sort, then sprinkled the door with the contents of the vial.<br />
<br />
The frost immediately disappeared and when I knocked again, Mitch opened the door.<br />
<br />
He looked worse than before, pale had faded to nearly transparent and haunted had become gaunt and dead like, however he was still standing and was still in this physical realm which was preferable to the alternative.<br />
<br />
Lori didn't even flinch when she saw the figure on the bed. "Your music is too loud," was all she said to her.<br />
<br />
I bolted past all of them, keeping one eye on the ghost and the other on the guy I was currently attracted to and slammed the window shut. I figured that would give us all a couple of minutes anyway to sort this all out.<br />
<br />
Now, I would have gone for the nasty ghoul on the bed first but apparently Lori had had enough of Nat King Cole for one evening. She walked over to the still playing Victrola ghost, spritz some holy water on the thing and it disappeared mid-chorus.<br />
<br />
Like I said before, Lori knew her stuff.<br />
<br />
The moment the music shut off, Mitch collapsed onto the floor and the room began to warm.<br />
<br />
I might have expected some screaming or tantrum throwing from the spirit but there was nothing. I watched her face as I brought Mitch around and noticed she took on the pallor of melancholy where I had seen only anger and hostility before. Lori walked over to her and whispered something I couldn't hear. The girl smiled a bit, shook her head and faded into the bedspread she was lying on as if she had never been there at all.<br />
<br />
"Remind me never to lie on the bedspread here again."<br />
<br />
"Remind me never to let you make the reservations again."<br />
<br />
I laughed at that. As always, my sister was right.<br />
<br />
It took Mitch several minutes to warm up completely and come around to what I suspected was his normal self. I told the small fib that we were with the hotel and someone passing by had heard him pass out and fall inside his room. He didn't remember any of it and it was just as well.<br />
<br />
I'll tell him the truth later. Much, much later.<br />
<br />
He introduced himself to me as Mitch Ryder, but not that Mitch Ryder, and we both laughed at his comic genius.<br />
<br />
I think he will fit in just fine with this family.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-82992256244915538312015-10-28T11:36:00.000-07:002015-10-28T11:36:13.699-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Sisters Van Helsing - Part 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsYUIAWEWgPJ3H58Op2KjpwFFmCVyBCguavmKqMAD0mp-IK6GUHvZrbBwROTCxiTLjG-295Uxcit0AsTrpOm-UEZsaovqEZX4Yczx-IAFEWcgkdQ-SNxgeRVnV2WahnQKyFIwbdXKZnw/s1600/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsYUIAWEWgPJ3H58Op2KjpwFFmCVyBCguavmKqMAD0mp-IK6GUHvZrbBwROTCxiTLjG-295Uxcit0AsTrpOm-UEZsaovqEZX4Yczx-IAFEWcgkdQ-SNxgeRVnV2WahnQKyFIwbdXKZnw/s400/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The third part in the tale of two sisters:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Sisters Van Helsing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Part 3</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
You would think that the source of blaring music at midnight in a hotel would be an easy thing to find but you would be wrong about that.<br />
<br />
The entire hall was filled with music as if it were coming from the hotel walls themselves. It could easily have been coming from any one of the rooms on the fourteenth floor. Or even another floor. I couldn't be sure.<br />
<br />
I may have been affected by the cold or by the fact that I was in serious need of sleep but I inadvertently blurted, "Jiminy Christmas its friggin cold in here," and immediately wished I hadn't said that aloud.<br />
<br />
Whatever was residing in these rooms, I knew I would be better off if it wasn't aware of my presence just yet.<br />
<br />
I took a few tentative steps across the hall and carefully pressed my hand on the door. I wasn't exactly positive of what I was expecting but the door felt, well, like a door. Nothing special, it wasn't even particularly chilly which was odd seeing how cold it was in the hallway.<br />
<br />
When you are exhausted things seem funny that really shouldn't and, "This isn't the door you are looking for," flashed through my mind nearly setting off a fit of giggles in spite of it all.<br />
<br />
"May the force be with me," came next and I continued my search down the hall.<br />
<br />
I tried the next three doors and found them all to be relatively normal save one that looked newer than all the other doors in the hotel. I pondered for just a second what might have transpired in that room as to cause such a remodeling.<br />
<br />
Then I decided maybe it was best not to know.<br />
<br />
The next to the last door on the right held some promise I thought. I knew there was serious cold emanating from the inside as the metal door knob was completely frosted over.<br />
<br />
"It looks like we have a winner," I whispered softly and knocked.<br />
<br />
I am not sure what I expected to open the door, a ghastly spirit or a nasty demon but I am quite sure I wasn't expecting Mitch Ryder.<br />
<br />
Oh, just for clarity, not that Mitch Ryder.<br />
<br />
He was a tall drink of water as my mother would say, at least six foot four to my estimate as I stood there in the doorway. Due to the fact that I am vertically challenged, I had to strain my neck up to see his face properly. He stood there looking at me, expecting me to say something as I was the one who knocked, but I was so captivated by his looks that for once, I was at a loss for words.<br />
<br />
Thankfully he wasn't.<br />
<br />
"Can I help you?"<br />
<br />
This was a good looking guy. Well sort of, except for that whole pale, terrified, haunted thing he had going on. His pale blue eyes were slightly glossed over, his black hair was somewhat disheveled, and he appeared to not have showered in a while, but other than that, he was gorgeous.<br />
<br />
It was possible that he was a drunk or even an addict considering where he was staying but since I had the distinct impression that the music was coming from his room, I guessed it was something else.<br />
<br />
"Ummm..."<br />
<br />
Okay, so I couldn't think while I was staring into those satiny eyes and was suddenly more concerned about whether or not my makeup had failed me hours ago.<br />
<br />
He looked at me expectantly so I thought I had best say something.<br />
<br />
"The music... it's just a little loud. That's all."<br />
<br />
His eyes suddenly grew and he practically dragged me into his room.<br />
<br />
"You can hear it?"<br />
<br />
"Of course I can hear it. I just said it was a little loud."<br />
<br />
"Can you see her?"<br />
<br />
He pointed into the room behind him and lying on the bed was a woman.<br />
<br />
I use that term loosely however.<br />
<br />
It was a woman. Or had been. At one time.<br />
<br />
Now it was more like a ghastly reflection of one. Even so, I was jealous.<br />
<br />
"You have company. Sorry."<br />
<br />
His eyes cleared up suddenly and instead of a dazed look now they had more of a glare of annoyance. They were still stunning.<br />
<br />
"What??? No! I do not have company! She doesn't belong here!"<br />
<br />
Okay, so I needed to do something. The music was still blaring.<br />
<br />
I found the source of the blasting music inside his room as I had suspected. Lori was right, it was an old Victrola playing. Except it didn't appear to be quite as solid as one might imagine it should.<br />
<br />
"Is that your record player?" I wasn't sure what else to say, I was pretty sure it wasn't his.<br />
<br />
"No, it just showed up when she did."<br />
<br />
Sentimental Reasons started over again, all on its own I might add.<br />
<br />
<i>Terrific, a ghostly Victrola on top of everything else. How the hell do you shut it off?</i><br />
<br />
I walked towards the figure on the bed. She should have been able to see me but she was too wrapped up in smoking her cigarette which was no more corporeal than she was. Did they bring everything from the other side with them?<br />
<br />
I attempted to get her attention. "Miss? Can you turn the music down?"<br />
<br />
Now the guy was looking at me as if I had lost my mind. To be fair, he really didn't know who I was at the time, so I forgave him. I can forgive just about any man that looks like that.<br />
<br />
Regardless, the woman ignored me and went on smoking what appeared to be a Pall Mall.<br />
<br />
I took a better look at her and from what I could ascertain from the remains of what appeared to be a lateral dissection, it was Elizabeth Short. Or a kind of "repaired" version of her.<br />
<br />
I had seen photos of the Black Dahlia of course, but truth be known, I wouldn't know her from the Blue Dahlia. The injuries are what clued me in to who she was and that 1940's hairdo which I have to admit, she carried off pretty well.<br />
<br />
Elizabeth Short had been cut in half at the midsection and while I could plainly see that she was pretty much still in two separate pieces, the edges of the wounds had been softened and blended to the point you almost couldn't tell what happened at all.<br />
<br />
Apparently they can Photoshop you once you are dead. I must admit, that bit of information gave me no small amount of comfort. I could now look forward to an afterlife sans cellulite.<br />
<br />
Then she spoke.<br />
<br />
"Mitch, honey. Get rid of this broad. We have things to do."<br />
<br />
I didn't really want to think about what they had to do, even for me that sounded pretty obscene and I accept an awful lot on faith. But what concerned me more was that the glazed and dazed look had returned to Mitch's eyes.<br />
<br />
"Sure babe. I'll get rid of her." His voice had a tone of resolution and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on.<br />
<br />
"You need to go."<br />
<br />
It was just about then that I noticed the window in the room was wide open and I had a sinking feeling of what good old Liz had planned for Mitch.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, okay. Well, just keep the music down and have a nice night."<br />
<br />
Mitch didn't hear me or if he did he didn't answer. He was back under the spell of the Black Dahlia.<br />
<br />
And I needed help if I was going to save him.<br />
<br />
He shut the door in my face and I decided that it was time for Lori to get up. She wouldn't be happy about it but I wasn't happy thinking about tall, dark, and handsome being splattered all over Main Street either.<br />
<br />
I reluctantly gave Mitch and Liz some privacy and turned around to return to my room. <br />
<br />
The hallway was still freezing as when I first entered it but I wasn't alone in it any longer.<br />
<br />
About half way down the narrow hallway and between me and my hotel room door, stood Richard Ramirez.<br />
<br />
He was slashing at a woman with what appeared to be a machete although I had never actually seen a machete before and I was just guessing that was what it was.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, for me at least, the woman was already dead and had been for the last thirty years or so.<br />
<br />
I couldn't hear them for some reason and I might have even had time to consider why that was so, if it wasn't for the fact that Richie had stopped his attack on the woman and had turned his attention towards me.<br />
<br />
"Shit"<br />
<br />
Like my sister, I can swear on occasion.<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-27287108531823333752015-10-27T11:39:00.001-07:002015-10-27T12:24:02.606-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Sisters Van Helsing - Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
<br />
Another chapter in my tale of two sisters:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Sisters Van Helsing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Part 2</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
The silence was killing me. I hate it when Lori gets all "big sister' on me and scolds me like I'm a child but the silent treatment is worse.<br />
<br />
This was worse.<br />
<br />
"Aren't you going to speak to me, Sis?"<br />
<br />
"At some point, Dee. If we live long enough."<br />
<br />
I caught the sarcasm in her voice but she was right about that. We had seen two ghosts in the hotel inside of thirty minutes of our arrival and it hadn't even been dark yet.<br />
<br />
Ghosts don't hurt people. Well, not generally anyway, but with serial killers and psychotic murder victim ghosts, who knows?<br />
<br />
Later that night as I was lying there in my bed at the Hotel Cecil, I started thinking about all the dead that might be roaming the hotel's hallways in addition to the ones we had already seen, counting them like one might count guests at a birthday party.<br />
<br />
Like Richard Rameriz, there was another serial killer that lived here, Jack Unterweger. And while he didn't die at the hotel either, he did kill several prostitutes in these rooms. Perhaps after he committed suicide, he might have been attracted back to the hotel for some reason..<br />
<br />
Murder victim, Elizabeth Short aka The Black Dahlia, was rumored to have been here as well. She didn't die at the Cecil as far as anyone knows but that doesn't mean she isn't hanging around here.<br />
<br />
Another murder victim, Goldie Osgood was actually killed in the hotel so she might be a permanent fixture here as well.<br />
<br />
There have been numerous suicides but Pauline Otton was one that was reported and that I remember clearly. Plus the guy that Pauline landed on down on the street below, Gianni or somethin like that, I can't recall his name but that brings the number up to seven and those are just the ones I know of.<br />
<br />
There is really bad energy at this hotel, You can feel it in the air you breathe.<br />
<br />
"What is that?"<br />
<br />
There was music coming from somewhere outside.<br />
<br />
"It's music I think. Someone is playing music this time of night?"<br />
<br />
"That's not just music, Dee. That is a record playing on an old Victrola."<br />
<br />
I listened again. "Is that Nat King Cole? Sentimental Reasons?"<br />
<br />
My sister grunted beneath her covers. Clearly she was not pleased.<br />
<br />
"I don't feel like playing Name That Tune with you, Dee. I need to sleep. Can you please tell whomever is playing records at midnight in a hotel that this is not proper form and they need to shut the hell up and go to sleep!"<br />
<br />
My sister is cranky when she is tired. Or when she is hungry. In fact, she is cranky most of the time.<br />
<br />
Come to think of it, I wasn't too happy either. "Alright!" I snapped a little louder that I probably should have.<br />
<br />
I crawled out of my twin bed and pulled on my jeans attempting to be somewhat quiet while letting my sister know how annoyed I was to have to go out into the cold and yell at someone. I didn't want to endure another lecture from her about how this was all my fault, blah, blah, blah however, so I kept most of my annoyance to myself.<br />
<br />
I didn't bother with the room key either, I figured I would only be gone a second or two since the music seemed to be coming from right outside our room.<br />
<br />
As a note of future reference, never leave your room key behind when you are spending the night in a hotel haunted by serial killers and murder victims, it can never end well.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was colder than I expected when I stepped out into the hallway, I could tell because my breath was already there, hanging out in front of me like a white mist.<br />
<br />
This should have been my first warning to go back inside my room and bolt all four of the locks on the door.<br />
<br />
But I didn't want to risk the wrath of Lori for a third time that night so instead of doing what my instincts were telling me to do, I softly shut the door behind me and tiptoed towards the music.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
To Be Continued...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-90978469189910045952015-10-26T12:59:00.001-07:002015-10-26T14:35:27.869-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales ~ The Sisters Van Helsing - Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEssHLMqJ8aS_fkpuCD_z2jRf7RUSdlOuI2iHZ7scyEPMZzeWhT7aQLg21GuqmAYnDWWJ37Ms2V2j6fbZlyNwFwX2v-7EtC_S4qnP39ef-UdeSD88_xVBw-u9W8eAQzAL0fz8TDnoJ5nA/s1600/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEssHLMqJ8aS_fkpuCD_z2jRf7RUSdlOuI2iHZ7scyEPMZzeWhT7aQLg21GuqmAYnDWWJ37Ms2V2j6fbZlyNwFwX2v-7EtC_S4qnP39ef-UdeSD88_xVBw-u9W8eAQzAL0fz8TDnoJ5nA/s400/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I got a little hung up on the characters so another tale of two sisters entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Sisters Van Helsing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Part 1</div>
<br />
<br />
"Are you sure this is the right place, Dee?<br />
<br />
Lori's distrusting tone set me on edge and we had only just arrived.<br />
<br />
"Okay, so it's not the Ritz Carlton but it's cheap and it had some decent reviews on Yelp."<br />
<br />
Alright, I might have been fibbing about that part a bit. There were a couple of not bad reviews but a whole lot more of DON'T STAY HERE reviews. Fortunately for me Lori isn't that keen on the internet and with four kids she hardly has the time to browse.<br />
<br />
The fact was, I wanted to stay here because of the hotel's history. I mean, serial killers, suicides, and strange murders?? Who <i>wouldn't</i> jump at the chance?<br />
<br />
"Someone just asked me if I was 'holding'. Holding. What do you think he meant?"<br />
<br />
Yes, so it's a place frequented by junkies and drug dealers as well. I didn't think we looked like either one so I thought we would be okay. Yeah, I guess Iwas wrong about that.<br />
<br />
"Who knows? Let's go get checked in. I can't wait to see the inside!"<br />
<br />
Lori was still scrutinzing the addict sitting outside when I opened the door and we stepped inside the lobby.<br />
<br />
"God Dee! This place is gorgeous!Are you sure this is the right place? Are you sure you got the price right?"<br />
<br />
Even I had to admit that the lobby was stunning, a beautiful throwback to the elegance of the early 1900's when it was built. You could imagine Carol Lombard and Clark Gable strolling across the gleaming tiled floor on their way to check in after attending some Hollywood bash in the ballroom downstairs.<br />
<br />
I was more than a little disappointed.<br />
<br />
"Yep, this is it. The Cecil Hotel."<br />
<br />
I heard Lori giggle slightly, irritating me even more and I snapped. "Let's just go get checked in, okay?"<br />
<br />
My sister's tone changed immediately. I should know better than to show my hand too early with her.<br />
<br />
"Dee, What's going on? You selected this place and now you don't want to stay here?"<br />
<br />
"No, of course I want to stay. It's beautiful isn't it?"<br />
<br />
"But that isn't what you expected was it? What exactly were you expecting, Dee? Tell me why you picked this place right now."<br />
<br />
I walked away without answering, leaving her behind as I went up to the front desk and checked us in before she could change her mind.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
"This place is pretty awful, Dee."<br />
<br />
Lori was right. While it was pretty much as clean as any other hotel I have ever been in, it was absolutely prehistoric. When was the last time I saw a television with a tube in it? Fifteen, twenty years before? I couldn't remember but it had been a long time before today. It was shocking but not nearly as shocking as the fact that it still worked.<br />
<br />
The ancient television was mildly interesting but it was the cold that got my attention. Lori called down to the lobby about the coldness of the room only to discover our phone didn't work either. She declined to return down in the elevator by herself and we suffered until we figured the thermostat out by ourselves.<br />
<br />
All in all, it was a old room but I knew that wasn't what Dee was referring to when she commented about it being awful.<br />
<br />
I noticed it first in the elevator, the bone chilling dampness of the place. I know Dee noticed it too, her teeth were chatteirng loud enough to wake the dead but since we weren't alone as we rode up to the fourteenth floor (actually the thirteenth but who is counting?) she had the common courtesy not to mention it in front of the other hotel guests.<br />
<br />
As we stepped out onto our floor the doors closing silently behind us, my sister whispered,"Dee, who was that in the elevator?"<br />
<br />
"How would I know? I don't know anyone else who is staying here."<br />
<br />
"They looked familiar to me. I don't know why."<br />
<br />
I knew why. Anyone who watched the news in the last fifty years knew why but I didn't want to say just yet. However, as usual, my silence was like an alarm going off in Lori's head and she wasn't letting it go.<br />
<br />
"Dee? Who were they? Why are we here at <i>this</i> hotel?"<br />
<br />
Damn it. I could have tried to lie a little bit longer but it seemed less than worth the effort..<br />
<br />
"It's supposed to be haunted. Remember the Elisa Lam disappearance and the weird video?"<br />
<br />
"Christ, Dee. This isn't <i>that </i>hotel, is it? Tell me it isn't. Tell me that wasn't her in that elevator!! Tell me!!"<br />
<br />
"Okay, well, I can't tell you that. But we did already pay for two nights so we are staying."<br />
<br />
Lori stopped walking and was silent for a moment. Then she asked me what I hoped she wouldn't.<br />
<br />
"Deidre,who was the guy with her? I recognize him too. I have a feeling I should know who he is."<br />
<br />
Like I said, I knew the history of the hotel.<br />
<br />
"I think it was Richard Rameriz."<br />
<br />
"The Night Stalker?"<br />
<br />
Well, I was hoping she wasn't aware of who he was but I probably should have known better.<br />
<br />
We are Van Helsings after all.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
To be Continued...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-34725556047984767462015-10-25T16:36:00.002-07:002015-10-25T16:36:59.067-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Secret<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A clever tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Secret</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Sarah hid in the small cupboard beneath the stairs, her ears
and eyes strained on the visitor that had come to speak to her Mamm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Mrs. Beiler, I don’t mean to offend but perhaps Sarah's
sister would be more suitable to raise the child." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hannah Beiler
shook her head solemnly and looked out of the kitchen window. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"No Bishop, that simply would not do, Mary is already
overburdened. I cannot ask that of Mary and I certainly would not ask
that of Sarah. No matter what, the child is a child of God and shall be
cared for." She turned and looked directly at the Bishop. He looked
tired and the birthmark beneath his ear became more prominent the more
irritated he became. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Well, perhaps someone in another town then." His
words were caring but his eyes were cold. Bishop Miller looked at Hannah
and realized he was fighting a losing battle at the moment. He rose from
his chair and touched Hannah’s hand. "Of course we will do as you wish but
please give this some more thought before you make a final decision. I
will help in anyway that I can but a fatherless child, well Hannah, you know
the church's opinion on that matter." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Bishop Miller gently patted her hand and turned towards the
door. He leaned over and spoke to Hannah gently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>" I will speak to you at the
Church service tomorrow and you can let me know what will be done." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; text-indent: -0.05in;">Hannah
looked at his face and smiled sadly. "Thank you Bishop, we will
speak to you then," and she closed the door behind him as he stepped out
into the afternoon sun. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Hannah turned and walked slowly into the family room.
She sat down in her rocking chair, pulled the worn quilt around her and wept
quietly as the afternoon sun warmed her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sarah
slowly opened the closet door. She tiptoed down the hall and peeked in at
her mother sitting in the oversized chair. For as long as Sarah could
remember that chair had been a place of solace and comfort for all the women of
the Beiler family. Her mother had rocked Sarah and her sister Mary until
they were too big to fit on her lap and now all three enjoyed taking turns in
the chair in the afternoon when the sun shown most brightly through the large
picture window, warming whomever was seated there. It surprised Sarah to
see her Mamm crying and she didn't know what to do. She wanted to go and
comfort her but she did not want her Mamm to know she had been eavesdropping in
on her private conversation, especially when Sarah was the topic.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She turned around and slipped quietly outside.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; text-indent: -0.05in;">The
short walk to the barn seemed eternal that afternoon and the large doors seemed
extra heavy. Once Sarah was sheltered in the cool darkness she sat down
to think. The same two questions kept going around and around inside of
her young mind. What is so terrible? What could be done about it? </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; text-indent: -0.05in;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; text-indent: -0.05in;">Sarah contemplated for hours until her
head hurt. Then she contemplated some more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
next day was Sunday and the weekly church service was to be held at the home of
the Gustafson's. Sarah awoke very early and dressed carefully in her best
Sunday dress. She pulled her new prayer kapp from her closet and placed
it gently on her head. She quietly opened her bedroom door, tiptoed past
her parent's bedroom and with a prayer under her breath that they were still
asleep, she slipped out the door. The sun rose quickly and Sarah knew she
had to hurry, so much needed to be done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Hannah and Jacob arrived home that afternoon, slightly
disturbed but somewhat relieved. They had been spared another
conversation with Bishop Miller for now but they both knew it would be just a
matter of time before they would have to speak with him again. The Bishop
had not been at the service this morning and there were whispers that he had
been taken ill. What also bothered the couple was that their youngest
daughter had not arrived for the service either. It wasn't the first
occasion Sarah had gone out into the woods, lost track of time and shown up
hours later dirty and hungry but because of her daughter's delicate condition
Hannah worried more than usual. There was a chill in the air this
afternoon and even though it was only October, it felt like there could be an
early snow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; text-indent: -0.05in;">Sarah
walked slowly towards home, the wind whipping her long skirt about as she
struggled to keep her shawl around her shoulders. Her braided hair was coming
out in long unbridled strands and she shoved the wayward pieces roughly behind
her ears, cursing it with each step. She'd lost her prayer kapp again and her
Mamm would be real angry with her. The dry autumn leaves went swirling about
her feet as she walked and Sarah remarked to herself that there were far too
many leaves on the ground already. She walked slowly thinking of the Bishop’s
words of the previous day when he’d said she was too simple-minded to care for
a baby. Sarah had proven him wrong of course. He discovered that
she is clever, very clever indeed. Her stomach growled and she thought of
the freshly baked cookies that would be waiting for her, Sarah pulled her shawl
tightly about her and started to run.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Winter came early that year. By Thanksgiving there was almost
a foot of snow covering the Pennsylvania hills. Sarah began to show and
she positively gleamed with motherhood. Her mother and her sister began
to make quilts, clothing and kapps for the baby and Jacob worked on a cradle
for his newest grandchild. A new Bishop arrived at the end of October
without explanation and by Christmas everyone stopped wondering what had
happened to Bishop Miller. His belongings were packed away in case he
returned for them and a prayer said for his safety. Winter turned
into spring and Sarah's baby was born, a beautiful baby boy whom she named
Thomas after her grandfather. Everyone thought Thomas was perfect so no one
took any notice of the small faint birthmark under Thomas' left ear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Time went by and no one worried where Sarah went when she
disappeared for hours at a time. Nor did anyone ever notice the large pile of
dead leaves placed carefully in the middle of woods next to the river. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">If
someone were to notice or take the time to look there and brush some of the leaves away, they would see the faint, white remains of some bones, and entangled
within the bones, a small faded piece of fabric. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; text-indent: -0.05in;">The type and
color of fabric that one might find in a girl's prayer kapp.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.05in;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-92136105254499772992015-10-24T08:58:00.001-07:002015-10-24T08:58:38.387-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Just Desserts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjnnwIsC_29HaJRMfG-8WaMrct7rN-b4BU7FbZY5YlwtA4-8b5yS1mcB2IXIxzlWknJijvhUcBZyRf0GjV_BClG7aofuC94GVtaIN835SlGgD0pRSYtifnwS0b80msPfTiPemokFSDiU/s1600/Wedding+cake1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjnnwIsC_29HaJRMfG-8WaMrct7rN-b4BU7FbZY5YlwtA4-8b5yS1mcB2IXIxzlWknJijvhUcBZyRf0GjV_BClG7aofuC94GVtaIN835SlGgD0pRSYtifnwS0b80msPfTiPemokFSDiU/s400/Wedding+cake1.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A crushing little tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just Desserts</div>
<br />
<br />
<i>Would the others come for it?</i><br />
<br />
Kara contemplated the stale piece of wedding cake in her hand and wondered.<br />
<br />
Perhaps if they knew she had it they would. If someone had seen her take it that night. That was a distinct possibility but then again, most of those people were dead already.<br />
<br />
Saturday. Had it been eight days already? Eight days since her wedding? Eight days since she became a widow?<br />
<br />
She shook her head. No, she mustn’t think like that. Mason could still be alive, <i>was </i>probably still alive.<br />
<br />
She had no proof that he was alive, but she also had no proof that he was gone either. Kara didn't think God could be that cruel.<br />
<br />
Kara recalled those first hours after the shaking began and the building around them crumbled. Most of the people had eaten dinner already, the bridal party and the two family tables for sure, maybe even one of the other tables as well. She couldn't be sure now.<br />
<br />
The rest of the food from the reception had been carefully rationed out to each person that remained, enough to last several days they thought. They weren't really worried about it lasting any longer than that, they foolishly believed someone would be coming for them long before it was gone.<br />
<br />
And there had been sounds that first night into the following day. Denise, her matron-of-honor, thought she heard someone yelling the next evening as well but there had been nothing since.<br />
<br />
How bad had the earthquake been? Is it possible rescuers couldn't get to them and had left them all to die a slow death in this dark grave?<br />
<br />
Eight days they had been trapped in here and the last piece of wedding cake was sitting in her hand. Probably the last of the food. She could make it last two or three days if she was careful, if no one saw her eating it and took it from her.<br />
<br />
Kara heard raised voices coming from the other room, someone was talking about eating the dead again.<br />
<br />
She glimpsed at the cake in her hand and smirked. "Let them eat the dead, I'll eat cake."<br />
<br />
Marie Antoinette would be proud.<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-56713239875336760272015-10-23T12:24:00.004-07:002015-10-23T12:24:50.094-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales ~ Easy to Forget<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NvCHrUVf6IDP9se-iyBoAqPhJLZNohDGb1lRNqI6FHVHZ4FVvPJZZQS-Jj5y99oY8orfXAd_dx-kcrh7hL45lu8MIZYPfMdERG9C5bs_CF4qrthajQBXUF-NQ8rRUcEZhIUEaEgvRvo/s1600/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NvCHrUVf6IDP9se-iyBoAqPhJLZNohDGb1lRNqI6FHVHZ4FVvPJZZQS-Jj5y99oY8orfXAd_dx-kcrh7hL45lu8MIZYPfMdERG9C5bs_CF4qrthajQBXUF-NQ8rRUcEZhIUEaEgvRvo/s400/Cecil+Hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A chilling tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Easy to Forget</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Saturday<br />
<br />
I just wanted to get away. Just for one night to clear my head.<br />
<br />
I had a fight with my husband Hank and I ran out on him. For the first time in eighteen years, I was afraid.<br />
<br />
Not afraid of Hank of course, he is a sweetheart, but afraid for our marriage.<br />
<br />
I knew the rumors of the Cecil Hotel, living just down the street how could I not, but it was cheap and close and I had been drinking so driving wasn't an option.<br />
<br />
I walked the eight blocks, or was it ten? I can't remember now. Things are different here, time is different here.<br />
<br />
I didn't hesitate, I walked right into the lobby and checked in without thinking. They asked me for something, I don't remember what now, maybe payment or maybe something else.<br />
<br />
Someone keeps knocking at my door but I am afraid to open it. I don't know what they could want, they have already taken everything.<br />
<br />
It's Saturday now and I wish I could leave.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
Monday??<br />
<br />
<br />
I wanted to write all this down so someone would know what happened. Maybe it would help someone else, it cannot help me.<br />
<br />
What day is it now? How long have I been here?<br />
<br />
It doesn't matter. There was a song about a hotel. Maybe you know it. I think it was about this place.<br />
<br />
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.<br />
<br />
I have a husband but I can't remember his name now. Can you please tell him to come get me?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Unknown??<br />
<br />
<br />
I wish I could go home but I don't remember where that is.<br />
<br />
Why am I here?<br />
<br />
Someone is calling me.<br />
<br />
I can hear them clearly.<br />
<br />
I just need to open the window and step outside.<br />
<br />
Tell him I love him.<br />
<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-67409473442597063362015-10-22T12:14:00.001-07:002015-10-22T12:14:09.642-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - First Impressions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4z3DwPTfHwuv3ulL71arqEtDoPmd5k7NUCsABYyORrCUsd0z3iBzU5rGy_OcJ5YALVk8Q8Zw-n9MS4o1jZ8KEPU5N0LTjYrHXPzoFq0T1Qc9ZJ9-1aPHHXWSPSdfrBpa_cMzxUUmwpU/s1600/Screaming+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4z3DwPTfHwuv3ulL71arqEtDoPmd5k7NUCsABYyORrCUsd0z3iBzU5rGy_OcJ5YALVk8Q8Zw-n9MS4o1jZ8KEPU5N0LTjYrHXPzoFq0T1Qc9ZJ9-1aPHHXWSPSdfrBpa_cMzxUUmwpU/s400/Screaming+girl.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Today's tale is entitled:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">First Impressions</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Listen
to them, the children of the night. What sweet music they make." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Brenda
glared up at her latest First Date. "What the hell does that mean? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"That's
from Dracula, remember?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Yes,
of course I remember but what does that have to do with your car not starting?
Besides, that was a dog barking, not a wolf howling." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Maybe
it was, maybe it wasn't." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Shut
up, Christopher. I am not going to let you scare me." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"I'm
not doing anything. I just wanted to point out that there may or may not be
wolves in these woods." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"This
is Los Angeles, Chris. Not Montana. And not even Griffith Park in Los Angeles.
Just plain old Los Angeles." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Okay,
Brenda, you go on thinking whatever you wish. But I think there is a wolf
nearby." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So
this is the game he wanted to play? She laughed in spite of his attempts to
frighten her. "A wolf in sheep's clothing, more likely." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Are
you talking about me? I can assure you, madam, that my intentions are quite
honorable." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Christopher
seemed like a sweet guy but honorable? Brenda wasn't quite so sure about that. The
way he ogled her sometimes, like she was the main course in a three course
meal. And this whole car breaking down routine? Wasn't that just in the movies
that men tried that ploy? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Then this
ride to “view the beautiful Los Angeles skyline” which did not impress her in the least
either. No wonder this guy didn’t date much. Her idea of a good time was a
movie and dinner at Tam O’Shanter, not a ride into the wilderness. She decided
that from now on she needed to be much more choosy about the men she accepted a
date from.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Okay
Sir Christopher. How do you plan on getting us out of this mess? We're in the
middle of nowhere with no cell phone coverage and your car won't start. And I’m
starving!" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Never
fear Lady Brenda. We shall be dining before you know it. A kiss before I
depart?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Brenda
felt more like smacking him than kissing him but she kissed him anyway.
Anything to get him moving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She
felt the change begin before she opened her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Christopher?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">His
eyes narrowed and darkened as he glared at her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Christopher,
what is the matter?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Brenda
felt her heart skip inside her chest and she wondered if it could burst from
fear. Christopher was gone and in his place, something else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What's
happening??” she squealed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Fear
gripped her chest as her confused brain tried to rationalize what she was
seeing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A
voice she did not recognize came from the mouth of the beast. "I told you
my intentions were honorable. You should be quite honored to be my next
meal."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Brenda
did not have time to scream before dinner was served.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 17.4pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
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Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-35816144750512847852015-10-21T14:09:00.002-07:002015-10-21T14:09:21.680-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Mr. Bubbles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinV2_UVGr4i67pAh8KoGadlt9sfOG_5ipsY1lkm0ybKFOnBfKspbTcbavUfauIcyV3ah_wT1x0L5ybCnBZQ3wF3_7JDOJFCC317zSwFU80pdk92KVkTKM4xCtxSLWpFIcvFnWzB7pKtYo/s1600/Water+Goblin2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinV2_UVGr4i67pAh8KoGadlt9sfOG_5ipsY1lkm0ybKFOnBfKspbTcbavUfauIcyV3ah_wT1x0L5ybCnBZQ3wF3_7JDOJFCC317zSwFU80pdk92KVkTKM4xCtxSLWpFIcvFnWzB7pKtYo/s400/Water+Goblin2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A childish tale of make believe entitled:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mr. Bubbles</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
He'll bubble your nose and bubble your chin,<br />
It's so much fun when you hop in with.. Mr. Bubble.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Why can't you see Mr. Bubbles, Mom?<br />
<br />
Beth grinned to herself as she finished tucking in her son for the night. "I don't see him because I am a grown-up and I'm not supposed to see your invisible friends."<br />
<br />
Jeffrey wasn't quite sure that was the truth but he wished his mom <i>could</i> see Mr. Bubbles.<br />
<br />
Jeffrey played enough of the War of Worlds video game to be able to recognize a supernatural creature when he saw one and he was pretty sure that Mr. Bubbles was in fact, a water goblin. Either way he wasn't invisible and he most certainly wasn't any friend of his.<br />
<br />
Mr. Bubbles lived under the sink in his bathroom and liked to cause trouble.<br />
<br />
Bad things had been happening since the appearance of Mr. Bubbles. His parents believed they were just having a run of bad luck but Jeffrey knew better. He tried to tell them about Mr. Bubbles and for a time they even pretended to believe him. Jeffrey knew however, they weren't taking him seriously.<br />
<br />
At first Jeffrey tried to ignore Mr. Bubbles and for awhile he managed to do a pretty good job of it. Or at least until their dog Hero suddenly became sick and nearly died.<br />
<br />
That was too much even for Jeffrey and he decided it was time to do something, dangerous or not.<br />
<br />
That night, after everyone went to bed, Jeffrey snuck a pair of his dad's dirty socks out of the hamper and set the trap.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
Beth smiled as she watched her son digging outside in the yard. He was burying an old shoe box out near her flower bed.<br />
<br />
"Buried treasure no doubt," she said to her husband. "At least he's outside getting some fresh air instead of playing video games for a change."<br />
<br />
Rich watched his son spitting on the mound of dirt and wondered exactly what was in the box his son had buried in their yard.<br />
<br />
He thought about the socks he saw in the laundry that morning. They were a light gray, old and faded. He had worn them on Monday he thought and then thrown them in the hamper when he got home that evening. And he was pretty sure they were fine when he tossed them in there.<br />
<br />
But this morning when he took the clothes out to the laundry room, he could swear that he could see what looked like several tiny bloody footprints on that same pair of gray socks.<br />
<br />
Footprints that didn't look exactly human or exactly animal. Footprints like he had never seen before.<br />
<br />
He thought about asking Jeffrey about them and about the box in the yard but as he watched his son spit on the mound again, he decided he probably didn't want to know after all.<br />
<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-22559095271350602492015-10-20T15:09:00.000-07:002015-10-20T15:09:12.587-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Door<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_GRwFUgA6YQpCooTfvIRQH2ZoNWB5ZzngOLDFkXz_w5uJJeMRWjN1V84H_rHP9Qqvgi40J-x9VKmsdOclHzpkJZqsejkV-3Lad1ZtQOBGAQk4ZWS_JU0fCexl6Dfufr_yZg0rokwMhA/s1600/The+Door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_GRwFUgA6YQpCooTfvIRQH2ZoNWB5ZzngOLDFkXz_w5uJJeMRWjN1V84H_rHP9Qqvgi40J-x9VKmsdOclHzpkJZqsejkV-3Lad1ZtQOBGAQk4ZWS_JU0fCexl6Dfufr_yZg0rokwMhA/s400/The+Door.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Antigonish revised in a little tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Door</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Yesterday, upon the stair,<br />
I met a man who wasn’t there<br />
He wasn’t there again today<br />
I wish, I wish he’d go away...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Antigonish - William
Hughes Mearns<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I don’t know what made me
notice The Door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I suppose it had always been
there, quietly waiting for me to become aware of it. I am relatively sure that
I have passed by the door quite often since it is on my way, but somehow I
always missed it. I find it strange how we go about our daily business, our
clever rituals, eyes straight ahead of us, never peeking off to the side, to
the dark corners. We spend years staying in line, never straying, never
veering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">That is how I was, shipshape,
my ducks all in a row. Or so I thought. Until yesterday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Yesterday, I saw The Door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The day started out like every
other day for me with no hint of what was to come. I’ve heard people say that
you get a premonition, a feeling of déjà vu right before you are slammed with a
traumatic event out of nowhere but nothing like that happened to me. There was
no glimpse, no feeling of “I oughta stay in bed today,” nothing. Just the old,
“same shit, different day,” kinda feeling, you know, where your whole life
looks like a big pile of crap laid out in front of you and you can’t find a
shovel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But now I am getting off the
subject, I wanna tell you about The Door. I think I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> to, just in case.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">So, I’m on my way home from
work, I walk you see. It’s only a half a dozen blocks and as long as the
weather holds out, I can make it in just a few minutes. I work in a bank, back
in the accounting department, back where I don’t see too many folks. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">That’s
just fine by me though, I like being alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Anyway, it’s a nice afternoon,
an Indian Summer kind of day when the warmth of sun still heats up the sidewalk
and you can shed your jacket onto the hook of your finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m walking down the sidewalk,
carefully avoiding the jagged, crooked cracks as always, when I see something
out of the corner of my eye. I can tell I’m in front of Dillon’s Bookstore
because I always have to walk around the Fedex drop off box they got in front
of the place so I stop and take a look in the display window. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">They always put
the new releases out in front, carefully stacked up with a shiny new copy
leaned up against the tower-o-books so you can see the cover. They added a new book
since I went by that morning and I picked it out right away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I guess I need to make it clear
that I notice things, I’m real observant and that is why this whole thing with
The Door doesn’t make sense. If it was there before, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would</i> have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seen </i>it, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> have seen it. But I didn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">So anyway, I’m standing in
front of Dillon’s Bookstore admiring the flashy new copy of Stephen King’s
latest novel that’s perched seductively in the window when I notice an odd
reflection in the glass pane. At first it’s not clear, sorta like looking at
your hand when you hold it beneath the beachwater down on the Jersey shore,
wavy and slightly out of focus, you know what I mean. So I stare at it, trying
to getting a better look at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The books in the window slowly disappear into a gray nothingness and all
I see is the fuzzy reflection. It’s strange, I can’t seem to stop trying to
figure out exactly what the hell it is, it’s like I am hypnotized or something.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I know what you are saying now,
why didn’t I just turn around and look?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">You see, I knew what was behind
me. There’s nothing. It’s a vacant lot, been vacant for the twenty years that
I’ve lived here on Market Street, so I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i>
there ain’t nothing behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
parents lived over on Main Street when I was growing up and I walked by that
vacant lot every day on my way to school too. I’ve seen folks try to build on
that lot over the years but it never works for some reason. “That dog don’t
bark,” my mother used to say. The lot’s empty, been empty for as long as I been
around and probably a long time before that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But nonetheless the reflection
in the window begged to differ with me. There was something there where there
shouldn’t have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something
big, something black and I just could not take my eyes off of it so I just kept
staring at it until it finally became clear in the glass window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It was a door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But it isn’t like it was
floating there in mid-air or nothing like that. It seemed solid, grounded, not
like you could see the building that it’s attached to but you know the building
is there just the same. There are gray steps made of large curved stone leading
up to the door and you can even imagine a flagstone walk leading up to those
stairs from the sidewalk although none exists, not in this world anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Okay, so I see the door and
it’s a big mother f-----g door too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s made of wood, I can tell this even in the reflection and it looks
like it’s about a foot thick and at least twenty feet high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Door is black, blacker than the ace
of spades as my mother would say and there is some kind of weird symbol carved
into it. I think I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before so I’m standing there
trying to remember where I’ve seen the damn thing, the warm afternoon still
shining hot against the side of my face when the air against my back suddenly
becomes cold like somebody just opened a refrigerator door behind me. I can
also smell the putrid stench of sulfur and I gag as I watch The Door crawl
open.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I didn’t hear The Door screech or yowl as it opened into the
sun on Market Street on that beautiful afternoon, not with my ears anyway, but
I knew that it did nonetheless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It sounded like a scream inside my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Now you would have thought I
would have turned around about then, just to take a peek but I have to tell
you, by this point I was too friggin scared to look at The Door straight
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was afraid of it actually
being there or worse than that, that it would disappear if I looked away from
the glass. I wanted to close my eyes more than anything but I wanted to keep
watching even more. It was like driving by a nasty car accident on Interstate
95, you don’t really want to look at the mangled twisted metal and crushed
bodies but you just can’t stop yourself. So I just kept on staring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">At first the immense doorway
was empty, all I could see beyond the threshold was darkness. It looked like
midnight inside there, like a bottomless pit of despair I thought. Then
suddenly it seemed to fill up with something much blacker than the emptiness I
saw before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It was a man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Well, I use that term lightly
here, the figure appeared male at least but it filled the massive doorway up
with not only it’s enormity but also with it’s mere <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">presence</i>. There was more than just size to him, he was just more <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">He had dark hair, coal black
above an ashen face that appeared so pale that if he wasn’t dead, he was
missing a hell of an opportunity. His eyes burned red and seemed to glow inside of
his skull as he stared at me<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>across
the empty street. And there was no doubt he was looking at me, after all, I was
the only one that could see him and when he smiled at me I felt something warm
run down the inside of my leg. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">There were teeth in that smile.
Lots of them, ugly, yellow bits of crooked bone that looked as if someone had
intentionally pulled them out one by one with a pair of rusty pliers then stuck
them back in upside down and sideways. The jagged teeth poked out over blood
red gums and too full lips in a ghastly death grin and I saw his mouth open to
speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In the silence inside my head I
heard him call my name then everything was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I don’t know how long I lay on
the sidewalk before Mr. Dillon woke me up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It couldn’t have been all that long, the sun was still
shining when I opened my eyes. I slowly sat up and felt the dampness of my wet
slacks against my inner thigh, thankful that my pants were black and hoping
that Mr. Dillon couldn’t smell it. He asked me if I was alright and I told him
I thought so. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Yes, I lied to him. I was anything but alright, in fact, I was
scared shitless but I didn’t want Mr. Dillon, who always looked like Wilford
Brimley to me, to think I was crazy so I told him I was just fine, a little
lightheaded from skipping lunch that’s all. Mr. Dillon looked at me a little
suspiciously but took me by the arm and shoulder and got me to my feet anyway.
I smiled my best fake smile, thanked him for his help and patted his shoulder
as I started walking off towards home again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I didn’t look back at the
window of the bookstore and I didn’t look across the street at the vacant lot.
I didn’t need to. I know The Door is there. Waiting for me to come by again.
Maybe next time the man will invite me inside. I don’t know but perhaps tomorrow
I will find out. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Today is Sunday you see, and today I don’t have to make the walk down Market
Street to go to work. Today I can stay inside and pretend that I didn't see the door or the man that wasn't there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> But tomorrow is Monday, and tomorrow I won't have a choice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-32586069535425014522015-10-19T10:36:00.001-07:002015-10-19T13:03:37.208-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Sister Knows Best<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxw2mutfwDAsdmLlk-we_jeaJadUR4f9hCngnRRWXl4hvLxZMhRpYGUZpAORzvPCai1_GVLkY8qV1IyRLSc3nb66ciW29Kso4JfUyvGlaYrPPOqCX52rGOYyxnuBjVoW3jOLOp8d0IoI/s1600/Shack+in+woods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxw2mutfwDAsdmLlk-we_jeaJadUR4f9hCngnRRWXl4hvLxZMhRpYGUZpAORzvPCai1_GVLkY8qV1IyRLSc3nb66ciW29Kso4JfUyvGlaYrPPOqCX52rGOYyxnuBjVoW3jOLOp8d0IoI/s400/Shack+in+woods.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A story of siblings entitled:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Sister Knows Best</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Are you sure this is the way?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I looked at the hand-drawn map in my hand and
nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"I think so. Maybe it just looks different
now that it is getting dark."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"I have to say Dee, this is the craziest
thing you have ever dragged me into."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Well, you didn't want me to come here
alone! I could have you know, but you insisted."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"I wasn't about to let my sister wander
into some strange bar in the middle of nowhere without some backup. This guy
should know better than to do this on a blind date."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She was probably right, as usual. But it wasn't
exactly a "blind" date. Shaun and I had Skyped several times before
tonight and he looked pretty normal as far as I could tell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">But my sister was relentless. "I've never
heard of this bar Dee, I even Googled it and nothing came up."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Shaun said it's fairly new so maybe that
is why you couldn't find it."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">That sounded lame, even for me but I hated to
admit I was wrong to Lori. "Sis, we'll know in a couple of minutes either
way. It should be right here." I tried to sound optimistic but I was
faltering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Stop." The word came out of my sister
in a whisper but her tone was enough to stop me dead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What's the matter?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Shhhh… listen."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Is it coming from the bar?'" I said
the words although the small cottage showed no signs of life or of being an
actual bar of any type.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"That is no bar, Dee. It's a friggin shack
in the middle of the woods."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I had to admit she was right again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Someone is coming."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lori grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my
flesh. I would think about smacking her later but right then I was too scared.
She yanked me behind some bushes just before an old Chevy Blazer pulled in
front of the shack and stopped. The driver's door opened and Shaun stepped out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I nearly yelled for him but my instincts were
already sending out more warning signals than I could deal with at the moment
and Lori's nail were still digging into my arm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Shaun walked around to the rear of the Blazer
and opened the back. I lost sight of him for a minute or so but when he
reappeared, he was carrying a young woman in his arms. Her wrists and ankles were bound by something and from
her muffled screams I guessed she must have been gagged as well. She was struggling to
free herself but in just seconds he managed to snatch her inside the shack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What the fuck?" Lori didn't cuss
often but when she did, watch out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What the hell? Is he actually with another
girl?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lori looked at me as if I had lost my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Shaun invited me here and he shows up with
another girl?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Dee, please listen to yourself. That girl
is in trouble."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">That thought hadn't occurred to me, I thought
this was some kind of weird sexual game or some strange fetish. I had read
Fifty Shades of Gray after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">My first instinct was to run away, fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What should we do?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lori didn't answer me, she was already walking
towards the shack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I caught up to Lori and peeked into the window
with her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Shaun had the girl on a large table and was
strapping her down to it. The girl was fighting him with all she had but he
seemed to just ignore her struggle. When she was secured he removed the tape
from her mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p>****</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The scream hurt and I had to cover my ears. If I
thought for one moment that this was all some lover's game, that idea was shot
to hell with the sound of that scream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lori was already running towards the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I stepped into the shack a second after Lori.
The girl on the table was screaming at both of us to help her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It was then that I noticed Shaun, or what used
to be Shaun. It was more like a Wolf-Shaun combo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">What I could see of his skin was now covered
with a dark gray fur but his face had completely transformed into something
else. He was wolf-like or maybe wolfish, that much I can say for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know if it recognized me but
there did seem to be something in it's eyes as it turned it's gaze away from
the girl on the table<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and towards
the two women standing in the doorway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I heard Lori scream just as the Shaun-wolf lunged towards us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> ****</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I wasn't ready for the blast. Even if I had seen
it coming I might not have been ready for it. My ears rang loudly and I was
quite sure I was deaf, but at least I could no longer hear the girl's screams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lori hadn't moved but Shaun, he was back to
being just Shaun, was now lying on the floor, a small red stain spreading on
his shirt, a large burgundy puddle forming beneath where he lay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Are you alright?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I thought I heard a voice but I couldn't be
sure. I turned around and saw my brother Abraham standing in the doorway. I
think I fainted then but just before the room swayed, I caught a glimpse of the
gun in his hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> ****</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">By the time I woke up I was already back in my
car and Lori was driving at what I would consider a high rate of speed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">My head hurt from its unfortunate connection
with the wood floor of the cottage and I winced as I fingered the large egg on
the back of my skull.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What happened?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"What happened, Dee? <i>What happened??!!</i>" My
sister's voice was shrill and practically screaming at me. It made my head hurt
even more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"I'll tell you what happened, Miss Deidre
Van Helsing. What always happens with you. You get yourself involved with some
supernatural creature and your siblings have to come and get you out of the
mess you created. A werewolf. What the hell were thinking? Grandma's House? You
actually wanted to go to a bar named Grandma's House?? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I hadn't thought of that and I should have. My brother and sister always know that kind of stuff and I've often wonderhow did those genes miss me?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"And that loser last
month??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a vampire, Dee. A
blood sucking vampire."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">She was still ranting but I managed to tune her
out as I stretched out on the backseat. She was right though. I had to admit my
luck with men lately wasn't all that great.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Perhaps I should try a different dating
site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When I signed up with SexyBeastsForLove this
wasn't exactly what I had in mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-63748279474386526752015-10-18T07:42:00.000-07:002015-10-18T07:42:45.750-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales ~ Dinner Anyone??<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilS7-xHJiray6sWOyVp_vZtY7lcwW0O8SDAchDrHqY7jYY-HvJiy42pGWOwaWaDib_shWeMt4705eYVJf6nCxOQVuB-HwwU0UMKPnfLxeAgoxPDETGUrdFPpRWEc8BiQXBmK-r0dN1VVQ/s1600/lightening1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilS7-xHJiray6sWOyVp_vZtY7lcwW0O8SDAchDrHqY7jYY-HvJiy42pGWOwaWaDib_shWeMt4705eYVJf6nCxOQVuB-HwwU0UMKPnfLxeAgoxPDETGUrdFPpRWEc8BiQXBmK-r0dN1VVQ/s400/lightening1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are invited to read:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dinner Anyone??</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Looking back on that day, the
storm, the darkness, the coldness of the summer wind, I should have known that
something was wrong. I should have been more aware.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">A late summer storm had
relieved me of electricity and without a television and the Red Sox to keep me
occupied, I found myself napping in the darkness of my living room. I was in
the middle of a very strange dream involving a child’s grave and some shoes
that didn’t fit when I was awakened by a soft tap upon my front door. The storm
had washed out a good portion of the driveway that led to my house so it was quite
a surprise when I discovered an elderly woman standing upon my front porch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Good evening Mr. Kelley” the
ancient voice cracked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I stared at the strange figure before me. She was tiny,
barely five foot tall with short stubby arms and legs which seemed to protrude
from an oversized torso. The skin on her face was smooth but it was her eyes
that gave away her age. Ancient, blue eyes the color of frozen ice, sunken deep
into her skull, stared out at me over smooth, pale cheeks. A tight, silver bun sat
on the top of her head and not one single hair appeared out of place although a
cool, stiff breeze was still blowing. Her matter of dress was stranger yet, a
floor length dress with a high ruffled collar, which given the summer heat,
seemed quite unbearable. I had seen similar clothing in the yellowed
photographs of my great-grandmother as readied for church garbed in her Sunday
best. The woman’s dress appeared ironed and stiff as one would expect but it
was covered with a coating of dust which I also found quite odd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I could not say anything for a
moment, taken aback as I was by her unexpected appearance and I had no idea how
the woman knew my name as I had just recently taken residence in the house.
After a fashion, I was able to speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Can I help you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“As a matter of fact, I believe
you can Mr. Kelley. I prepared an elaborate dinner before the storm arrived as
I was expecting some friends but now it appears that with the main road closed,
my company will not be able to make it. Would you care to join myself and two
of my neighbors for dinner? I live just past the bend in the road, you know the
place, don’t you? And you will join us?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I nodded amicably. I was embarrassed
that I did not know her name and ashamed to admit I did not know the
whereabouts of her house but I felt I could find it without much trouble. Besides,
all I had in my refrigerator was a now, luke warm beer, and some congealed
leftover pasta that would not be fit to eat without the assistance of a
microwave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“When you see my mailbox, take
the little path towards the house, it is quicker than the road. I will expect
you within the half hour. Do hurry Mr. Kelley. Waste not, want not.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And then, she was gone, disappeared
actually. I thought it was a trick of the shadows that now covered my front
entrance and driveway combined with the fact that I had been awakened so
abruptly so I shook off the feelings of apprehension, closed the door and went
up the stairs to my bedroom and bath. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I splashed my face with cold water and
tried to wrap my head around what had transpired. I found the entire event
bizarre but still found myself desiring to go. I quickly changed my clothes
into something better suited for dinner with an obviously proper lady and
hurried out into the darkening evening. For some reason, I thought it best not
to be late for this dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I had just reached the end of
my driveway and stepped onto the pavement of the road when a white bolt of
lightning struck the large oak tree outside of my house sending it crashing
into the living room where I had been sleeping just a short time before. I
stood in shock as a watched the scene play out before me and I must have been a
sight in my jeans and suit jacket standing in the road as my house crumbled
before me. Needless to say, I forgot about my dinner plans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It was some days later after
the emergency vehicles and the insurance claim adjuster had come and gone; that
I remembered the elderly woman and felt I should find her and explain my
absence. In the coolness of the early evening, I headed down my driveway once
more and walked the short distance to the bend in the road that the woman spoke
of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I found the mailbox right away, a rusted clump of metal with the
letters, “Clar_<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>S_lliv_n” still
attached. I took the path she suggested but instead of arriving at a house, I
found myself at the entrance of a small cemetery. It consisted of only three
headstones and I shivered as I approached them. The largest of the three stood
in the middle. As I looked at the stone, I felt the hair stand up on my arms
and the graze of cold fingers upon the back of my neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Clara
Louise Sullivan<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Beloved
Teacher and Friend<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">1830
– 1925<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Waste
Not, Want Not”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The evening shadows
were hanging from the stones and I felt it best not to linger any longer in
this makeshift graveyard when my wits were clearly not about me. I turned to go
and leave the unholy place but paused when I noticed some scratchings which
looked like letters in the soil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The ground in
front<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of Clara’s stone was void of
grass and the dirt was soft and newly turned which I found quite peculiar since
the cemetery seemed otherwise to be quite unkempt. I knelt down and strained my
eyes to better see what was there but upon reading the message, I became
terrified and fell backwards into the damp grass. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In the soft, dark dirt
in front of the gravestone, written by what I, in my fear, supposed to be a
finger, were the words, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“You are welcome Mr.
Kelley.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I have not been back
for dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-26692698602236461292015-10-17T06:49:00.000-07:002015-10-17T06:49:00.613-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - In the Name of Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwueA2Yk6G0pYIWlvIAxKWijPhNgesMxr6wMyO7x3J_rKiECNq1FEnP3hUtcanBoZzTYberGdTB5Rwu-PkexUTjwDjzGI209QGJXIzHy8uGZr34lp4cXZQe3GOcqE3SGK_5cSLgO-1-M/s1600/Kissing+couple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwueA2Yk6G0pYIWlvIAxKWijPhNgesMxr6wMyO7x3J_rKiECNq1FEnP3hUtcanBoZzTYberGdTB5Rwu-PkexUTjwDjzGI209QGJXIzHy8uGZr34lp4cXZQe3GOcqE3SGK_5cSLgO-1-M/s400/Kissing+couple.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A tasty little story entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the Name of Love</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Two things you must know before you
continue Quentin. First, what is once seen cannot be unseen. And second, and
mostly importantly, you can't ever go back."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I stood before this gorgeous and delicious woman
and thought how could I not do this. I loved her and no matter how I wished it
wasn't so, that wasn't ever going to change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I've always believed in Fate, that we are
predestined to a path and should we attempt to veer from this path, the consequences
would be dire. And Alyssa was my destiny. From the first moment I laid eyes on
her, I knew it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Two halves of the same soul, searching for one
another. Her lonely soul called out to mine across miles, across ages and I was
led to her by something we could never have foreseen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">What is an eternity if you are not with the one
you love? She told me of the emptiness she had endured the last two centuries
and I thought of what would happen to her if I said no to her now. Imagining my
beloved Alyssa wandering this earth forever alone, I simply could not bear it.
I would sacrifice who I was, who I was meant to be for her. For love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I understand my love, and I will not
abandon you. I can no more change my mind than I can change my heart. Now, stop
worrying, this is my choice and my will to do this."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I took her hand into mine and offered my throat
in return.</span></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-29465623702308093252015-10-16T13:02:00.001-07:002015-10-16T13:02:09.869-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Muffin Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFwAK6eOXbdU4FtsDarQZbUm4Rt09DvOI5z-C8Rh4MtqFYO-H5fC7XgsMb7ki0gVK4MQlf8RS0c1UkdNJPP87r-8j-TYKLeRHN8-Mfhzr3CWmVDohGINnGTPsCDTQ6xhCCazHupBnyyM/s1600/Muffin-Man2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFwAK6eOXbdU4FtsDarQZbUm4Rt09DvOI5z-C8Rh4MtqFYO-H5fC7XgsMb7ki0gVK4MQlf8RS0c1UkdNJPP87r-8j-TYKLeRHN8-Mfhzr3CWmVDohGINnGTPsCDTQ6xhCCazHupBnyyM/s400/Muffin-Man2.jpg" width="337" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A wee tale entitled:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Muffin Man</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"Shut my curtains, Mommy."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"They are shut, sweetie."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"No, I want them shut <i>real</i> tight."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"Real tight?"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"So he can't peek in."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"So who can't peek in?"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"The Muffin Man."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"The Muffin Man? What Muffin Man?"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"You know. <i>The Muffin Man.</i> From the book in the library. He peeks in my window at night when I am trying to go to sleep."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"Are you sure?"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"Yes, Mommy."</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"What do you think he wants, sweetie?"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
"I think he wants me to let him in."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-2731188991383093072015-10-15T14:24:00.001-07:002015-10-15T14:24:57.663-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Food For Thought<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxe_T-riHIbVPSGo8nc2b05eMH4CJT5Mpun71ydSSMEdVSbDyUL-RXWjqjx3v6nTCrErrdCA6_OZlLQYbC5E3ortnrcNkt0uucxo-z_1QCvk15_MjTk4ua5fnlX6-voE50uJU_aFz4bCo/s1600/Burning+trailer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxe_T-riHIbVPSGo8nc2b05eMH4CJT5Mpun71ydSSMEdVSbDyUL-RXWjqjx3v6nTCrErrdCA6_OZlLQYbC5E3ortnrcNkt0uucxo-z_1QCvk15_MjTk4ua5fnlX6-voE50uJU_aFz4bCo/s400/Burning+trailer.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A short story entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Food For Thought</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<i>You can't ever go back, Tam.</i><br />
<br />
Tammy didn't want to go back, not now not ever.<br />
<br />
Tammy loaded up the trunk and the back seat of the car with everything that she managed to salvage from the small two bedroom trailer.<br />
<br />
The last three years of her life had been a nightmare. The death of her father four years before had started the wheels turning in the wrong direction and then her mother died a year later. Tammy spent six months in foster care which hadn't been a picnic either until her brother, Arthur managed to gain custody of her.<br />
<br />
At first Tammy thought everything was going to be alright but by then Art had married Drew and things went from bad to worse. With more than enough encouragement from his wife, Art began to dabble in drugs and it wasn't long before the abuse began. It was bearable at first but as it began to occur more frequently and with greater violence, Tammy realized it was only a matter for time before they killed her, either on purpose or accidentally.<br />
<br />
Tammy was tough and it is possible that she could have endured it a while longer if it hadn't been for Belle. The sweet yellow lab was nothing more than a punching bag for her brother and Drew didn't bother to feed her most of the time. Yeah, maybe she could have lasted a while longer but she was pretty sure Belle couldn't.<br />
<br />
She slipped on her backpack and grabbed Belle's leash. The yellow lab would never be hungry again, not as long as Tammy was alive anyway. The backpack was filled with the few valuables her mother had left behind and whatever money Tammy had been able to find hidden in the trailer. It wasn't much but it was enough to get them into California before dark.<br />
<br />
Tammy climbed behind the steering wheel of the old Chevy Cavalier and scratched the ears of the dog in the passenger seat next to her. Behind them the last of the trailer burned in the early morning dawn.<br />
<br />
It had been six months since Art and Drew disappeared and not one single person had stopped by to see where they were. Someone might come looking eventually, they might even wonder whatever happened to good old Art and Drew.<br />
<br />
They wouldn't find them however. They were completely gone.<br />
<br />
Belle belched softly in the seat next to her, her tummy full and round once again. Tammy laughed, and realized how ironic it was that while Art and Drew might not have cared for Belle when they were alive, in death, they cared for her more than they would have ever imagined.<br />
<br />
Tammy pulled away without giving them another thought leaving the dirt lot and the burning embers behind.<br />
<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-35362858023132905762015-10-14T14:11:00.001-07:002015-10-14T14:13:44.528-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Walk This Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4IB2G761deC1Rbwzu6H4DNm1ab1es_M-J_CVEEE06ON3_tvEdnXD7B-C9_H9ECDJm9gRAYL7VEXc9ykmo_XrCsqvX8a22zJM3rDW3OfjutSWpeELviUWpH2yDHXRVWkruq2G6VhZ4wXU/s1600/pooky-old-cemetery-on-a-foggy-40839412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4IB2G761deC1Rbwzu6H4DNm1ab1es_M-J_CVEEE06ON3_tvEdnXD7B-C9_H9ECDJm9gRAYL7VEXc9ykmo_XrCsqvX8a22zJM3rDW3OfjutSWpeELviUWpH2yDHXRVWkruq2G6VhZ4wXU/s400/pooky-old-cemetery-on-a-foggy-40839412.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A chilly tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Walk This Way</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't know if you've heard this story before, you can stop me if you have.<br />
<br />
Otherwise you might want to listen.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was a stupid dare but I thought it would be fun. Spend Halloween night in a cemetery. No big deal. Lots of kids do it, right?<br />
<br />
I was ready. I had my iPad and phone, both fully charged with an extra battery for each. I didn't even show up at the cemetery until after nine. I figured I would stay awake for a couple of hours and then curl up in my sleeping bag and go to sleep, wake up early and then head home for a shower before school. I couldn't be late for school again, I was already on the brink of getting in deep trouble for being tardy three days that semester.<br />
<br />
That was my plan anyway.<br />
<br />
And you know what they say about plans, you make them and God laughs. I wonder if he is still laughing.<br />
<br />
By the time I arrived at Cedar Grove Cemetery, the trick or treaters were all gone and the streets were empty. I thought I knew the cemetery pretty well, I cut through there every day to go to school but let me tell you, it looks quite different at night. The path I normally took every morning which was basically a dirt road, was now covered in shadow, and the green grass of day was now a sulky black.<br />
<br />
During the day the place seems quiet and peaceful, at night, it's downright creepy.<br />
<br />
I had a place all set out in my mind when I took the dare, there is a huge old tree over by the stone wall that surrounds the cemetery itself that I thought would make a pretty good camping spot. I think its an oak tree but I don't really know for sure. I've sat beneath it a couple of times when I had to finish up some forgotten homework before school. Even a genius like me forgets stuff.<br />
<br />
During the day, it's a nice enough place to sit and contemplate things but in the dark, with its branches bare, the tree looks like a crooked and twisted monster. Something that could eat you if you weren't careful enough. It didn't change my mind about where I was going to stay however. At least I knew this place. The devil you know and all that.<br />
<br />
There also aren't any graves nearby so I didn't have to worry about stepping on anyone.<br />
<br />
So I'm creeped out already but I find my way to the tree and get settled in for what I think is going to be a quiet night. And it was, for awhile. I listened to some music and read for a bit then settled in to watch a movie on my iPad. Abbott and Costello meet the Mummy. It's funny movie but still good for a Halloween night in a graveyard.<br />
<br />
I think I watched just about all of it before I fell asleep but I can't remember exactly. I could try and figure it out if it was important but it doesn't matter to the story, not really.<br />
<br />
I do know the exact time when I woke up because I checked my phone to see if maybe I had been there long enough and I could go home and sleep in my own bed.<br />
<br />
It was one minute till midnight and the cemetery was full of people.<br />
<br />
When someone of importance dies in Jordan Village, they are often buried in Cedar Grove Cemetery. When this happens the streets outside the cemetery are lined with black limousines and the cemetery is overrun with other important people, usually politicians or Mayflower descendant family members. You know, old money.<br />
<br />
But even on those days when you could hardly get out of your own driveway because of all the cars, I had never seen this many people in Cedar Grove before. There must have been a hundred of them.<br />
<br />
At first I couldn't imagine what would bring all these people out on Halloween night, was it some sort of Halloween Party game? This is what your rational mind tries to tell you when something irrational is happening to it. Otherwise it would just explode.<br />
<br />
So I just sat there quietly watching the parade of people lumber through the cemetery as if it was a normal every day occurrence. I was okay with that, believing that it was normal until the people started disappearing right in front of me. I thought it was just a trick of the night, the full moon and the darkness playing havoc on my eyesight but soon I realized they were actually disappearing.<br />
<br />
Sort of anyway. It was an old woman I noticed first. She was bent over as if her back was aching or she was quite crippled. She was moving very slowly towards a grave to my right and I watched her as she appeared to be kneeling down to pray in front of the headstone.<br />
<br />
As I continued to stare at the old woman I realized she wasn't kneeling at all, she was actually fading into the grave. At first I could see her entire body, then her legs were gone, then her waist and arms until finally she disappeared altogether.<br />
<br />
I thought it was odd although I really didn't believe what I was seeing at the time. Your mind protects you as best as it can against things that don't fit into your world as they should and it needed a lot of protection that night as I watched similar scenes being played out over and over in the cemetery. Dozens of people, or should I say spirits, returning to their graves as if they were out for nothing more than a leisurely stroll.<br />
<br />
I should mention here that the returning spirits took no notice of me at all as I watched them dissipate into their final resting places. I could guess that this was either because I was too afraid to move and they just didn't notice my presence or perhaps it was that I didn't matter to them at all.<br />
<br />
Either way I watched all of them complete their journeys and as the final spirit faded, a tall lanky man who didn't walk as much as shuffle back into his grave, I heard the clock tower at City Hall chime the hour of midnight.<br />
<br />
Halloween was officially over and November arrived right on time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I decided I had stayed long enough to cover my dare, plus I was freezing on that cold Autumn morning.<br />
<br />
I packed up my things, rolled up my sleeping bag, and walked back home which is just up the street from the cemetery. I slept like the dead that night and I ended up being late for school the next day after all. I got three days of detention that first week of November in 2012.<br />
<br />
I still cut through the cemetery every morning, its a shortcut and a good one at that, but I never go back to the cemetery after dark. Especially on Halloween.<br />
<br />
<br />
But if <i>you </i>ever happen to find yourself in Jordan Village on All Hallows Eve you might want to visit Cedar Grove Cemetery a few minutes before midnight just to see for yourself.<br />
<br />
I won't be there but don't worry.<br />
<br />
You won't be alone.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-17525345674041453092015-10-13T13:12:00.000-07:002015-10-13T13:12:13.174-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Goodnight Irene<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTCbJfrnZtR7HnGXxNwKhStuoDBp0HQprQG_jjkBL0MVPIhMc0sHpcFumNv12QnjM0KH0S_zQq4ZDT3FGmvSI6R6j6b6UQxLGCS6Jw5-DgFgPqmJ4xEYBbSLEkxSrIOViF3ESxwijk64/s1600/Goodnight+Irene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTCbJfrnZtR7HnGXxNwKhStuoDBp0HQprQG_jjkBL0MVPIhMc0sHpcFumNv12QnjM0KH0S_zQq4ZDT3FGmvSI6R6j6b6UQxLGCS6Jw5-DgFgPqmJ4xEYBbSLEkxSrIOViF3ESxwijk64/s400/Goodnight+Irene.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A silly tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Goodnight Irene</div>
<br />
<br />
The room was lit only by a tiny nightlight and what moonlight managed to peek in from the window as three young girls huddled together silently on the narrow twin bed, afraid, yet enthralled of what was to come.<br />
<br />
"It happened a long long time ago, before I was born, I'm not sure when exactly. My Grandfather Edward was lost at sea and my Grandmother Irene held seances right here in this very room so that she could talk to him.<br />
<br />
Susie spoke up first. "Did she? Talk to him I mean?"<br />
<br />
Melanie looked at her friends on the bed and smiled in the dark. This was going to be easy.<br />
<br />
"Yes she did. She had never been alone you see and couldn't bear it."<br />
<br />
"What happened?" Linda whispered.<br />
<br />
"Well, they actually held three seances here in what was once the library but it wasn't till the third seance that Grandma Irene saw her dead husband. In the flesh."<br />
<br />
One of the girls gasped but Melanie couldn't tell which one. She grinned a little broader then continued.<br />
<br />
"The four of them were sitting around a table right where that bed is now. Just sitting and waiting as they had during the first two seances but this time Grandpa Edward came.<br />
<br />
First the room became ice cold, cold enough so that the four people sitting around the table could see their breath come out in a white clouds in front of their faces. And then the candle blew out all on its own so that the room was really dark. Sort of like it is right now."<br />
<br />
One of the girls began whimpering. Melanie thought it was Susie but couldn't be sure.<br />
<br />
"Then, when it was so dark that they could barely see, my Grandma heard Grandpa singing the song he sang to her every night as they were getting ready for bed…<br />
<br />
<i>Irene goodnight</i><br />
<i>Irene goodnight</i><br />
<i>Goodnight Irene</i><br />
<i>Goodnight Irene </i><br />
<i>I'll see you in my dreams.</i><br />
<br />
And right there... in that doorway right next to you… stood my Grandpa Edward singing to my Grandma just like he always did."<br />
<br />
My best friend Cheryl giggled nervously but said nothing.<br />
<br />
"Did they ever see him again?"<br />
<br />
Melanie was ready. "Oh yes! We see him all the time!"<br />
<br />
No one moved for a moment or two then Linda snapped on the lamp next to the bed. It shed a little more light into the room than the tiny nightlight had but not much.<br />
<br />
The four girls just looked at each other in silence until Susie stuck out her tongue. "You're lying, Melanie. You're nothing but a big liar. Your house is so not haunted." She stuck her lip out and pouted. Melanie felt like slapping her. "Now, <i>I</i> get to choose a game and I want to play Mystery Date."<br />
<br />
Melanie shrugged "Well okay, if you don't believe me." She leaned over and dug the game out from beneath her bed. Leave it to Susie.<br />
<br />
The four girls gathered in a circle on the floor and set up the game. Linda was just about to roll the dice when the singing began.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Susie squealed.<br />
<br />
"It's nothing. Just my Grandpa." Melanie noted matter-of-factly.<br />
<br />
The singing grew louder as it drew closer to the room.<br />
<br />
<i>Goodnight Irene</i><br />
<i>Goodnight Irene</i><br />
<i>I'll see you in my dreams.</i><br />
<br />
Linda screamed and Susie ran towards the open window. Melanie thought she just might jump.<br />
<br />
The door slowly opened and there stood Grandpa Edward. Smiling and singing.<br />
<br />
Susie screamed and darted past Grandpa Edward, with Linda close on her heels. The two girls were still carrying on when Melanie's mom shuttled them into her old Dodge to take them both home.<br />
<br />
Cheryl was laughing hysterically.<br />
<br />
"What was that all about Melly?"<br />
<br />
"Just some scaredy cats Mom made me invite over to spend the night but they changed their minds I guess. Can you take us for ice cream, Grandpa?"<br />
<br />
"Sure kiddo. Just let me tell your Grandma we are leaving."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-55766812269811803832015-10-12T11:09:00.002-07:002015-10-12T11:09:32.654-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Perfect Spot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLf1R7L6JzVZ2LqXO25AZ6ln0SLplGfSMRx5W8VpI_KGHMA_5LH_I3puq_hFRzGnAMmutrcfMaOQ9pt6UpKLXBctM2qMD2MEutSFn9rPZdx483pT293BCyXxNl6nKneBCm5f792vrptXU/s1600/cemetery_gates_by_ijustatemyshoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLf1R7L6JzVZ2LqXO25AZ6ln0SLplGfSMRx5W8VpI_KGHMA_5LH_I3puq_hFRzGnAMmutrcfMaOQ9pt6UpKLXBctM2qMD2MEutSFn9rPZdx483pT293BCyXxNl6nKneBCm5f792vrptXU/s400/cemetery_gates_by_ijustatemyshoe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A wee bit of a tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Perfect Spot</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
"This is it! It's perfect!!<br />
<br />
Cliff looked at me to check if I was kidding. "Are you sure? It's a little out of the way."<br />
<br />
"Oh no, I just love it!"<br />
<br />
Now, I know you aren't supposed to show your emotions when buying real estate but I was thrilled with what we had found. Yes, I suppose it was a little out of the way but I liked the idea of the isolation and the quiet.<br />
<br />
I had been looking for the perfect spot for several years but none had ever fit the bill exactly. They were often either too warm or too sunny or too dark but more often than not, they were simply too crowded for my taste. I was a loner and had been for most of my life. A secluded place thick with ancient trees and lush grass sounded like the perfect match for me. People were nothing more than a mere annoyance and the less I had to be around them the better.<br />
<br />
"Yep. This is it. The one I have been looking for all this time."<br />
<br />
Cliff seemed to resign himself that my search was indeed over. "Well, if you are sure we can go back to the office and write it up."<br />
<br />
I was more than sure, I was elated.<br />
<br />
"Thanks," I said. "That would be just great!"<br />
<br />
We went back to his little office at the front of the property and in less than an hour it was all done. I was the proud owner of the perfect spot.<br />
<br />
I drove past my newly acquired property one last time before I left, taking in the beauty of it and imagining myself resting there.<br />
<br />
I noticed Cliff standing outside his office and I waved good bye to him as I passed by, he was frowning a bit, I couldn't imagine why. It was beautiful, and perfect, and I was thrilled with my purchase.<br />
<br />
Dusk was just beginning to fall and the late afternoon shadows were starting to lengthen across the gravel road as I made my way towards the exit.<br />
<br />
I glanced in my rear view mirror one last time before I drove through the large iron gates of the Cedar Grove Cemetery and headed towards home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-78673540491163261082015-10-11T14:12:00.000-07:002015-10-11T14:14:09.879-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - Pick Your Potion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tFAIpec5-9xJycjbn61rDIbRrOx_r6DQGbGcQ1CWBPpOykBQuYG_SIte8HnDjyNixN2ZiKnypDGJeTIExvG0nv2EmsCCJp_ehJEzmbO1hjhHtPTUUef2DyTjoHpWXrra7IT9-CQpvpc/s1600/love-potion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tFAIpec5-9xJycjbn61rDIbRrOx_r6DQGbGcQ1CWBPpOykBQuYG_SIte8HnDjyNixN2ZiKnypDGJeTIExvG0nv2EmsCCJp_ehJEzmbO1hjhHtPTUUef2DyTjoHpWXrra7IT9-CQpvpc/s400/love-potion.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Love is strange in a little tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pick Your Potion</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Yes, I have a love potion, maybe you'd like to give it a try?"<br />
<br />
Lisa looked at the bright pink liquid inside the tiny glass bottle. It couldn't be more than a sip, what could it hurt?<br />
<br />
She wanted Leo to fall in love with her and if this was the only way it could happen then it was worth the hefty price the gypsy was asking.<br />
<br />
"I'll take it." She looked at the size of the bottle again and asked, "Is one bottle enough?"<br />
<br />
The old gypsy cackled sending shivers through the girl's body. "Yes, girl. One bottle is plenty. Ya only needs a sip."<br />
<br />
Lisa paid the gypsy and slipped discretely out of the carnival tent.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<br />
Lisa pulled the scarf tighter around her head, close enough to hide the fresh bruises on her cheek. She slipped into the carnival tent only to find the same old gypsy waiting for her inside. She couldn't believe he was still alive, if he was old ten years ago, he was positively ancient now.<br />
<br />
"I need a potion to make someone fall out of love with me. Do you have something like that?"<br />
<br />
The gypsy didn't say anything but quietly pulled a small bottle filled with a dark blue liquid out from under the counter and slid it across to her.<br />
<br />
"This will make someone stop loving you if that is what you wish. Would you like to give it a try?"<br />
<br />
Lisa didn't even look at the price this time. She didn't care, she simply paid the old man what he asked and slipped back out of the tent hoping no one recognized her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<br />
"As to Count, One Malice Murder the Jury finds the Defendant, "Guilty."<br />
<br />
Lisa stopped listening after the verdict on the first Count, that was the one that really matter. They could sentence her to death for that. And they might.<br />
<br />
As it turned out it hadn't mattered to the Jury that she wasn't aware that there had been a lethal poison in the tiny bottle that she had given to her husband, Leo. And by then, the gypsy carnival was long gone. Nor had it mattered that he was known on occasion to beat her as that only seemed to give her motive in the first place.<br />
<br />
What everyone heard over and over again, the Jury included, was how much Leo had loved her. He never stopped telling his family and his co-workers how much he loved Lisa.<br />
<br />
And he always said that he would love her till the day he died.<br />
<br />
<br />Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-31713699223442844422015-10-10T08:34:00.001-07:002015-10-10T08:52:50.412-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Bates<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuoOr3_Uv2wbh62pHVAlFFvoUQdMJX7fhDQ3bw0KVUfnZDDXWbMAUi_fHaf7PTja8V3jChb5dFhXI6dcFhrHN0cWFLL1UXlVTvAjZ4tb0z9NmWtq5Ssq4tCPF0RlGWgHiTKHHk1zhdhs/s1600/Bates+Motel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuoOr3_Uv2wbh62pHVAlFFvoUQdMJX7fhDQ3bw0KVUfnZDDXWbMAUi_fHaf7PTja8V3jChb5dFhXI6dcFhrHN0cWFLL1UXlVTvAjZ4tb0z9NmWtq5Ssq4tCPF0RlGWgHiTKHHk1zhdhs/s400/Bates+Motel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A little tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Bates</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
"I’d like to get out of here, Simon. Something doesn't feel right."<br />
<br />
"We just got here babe. Give it a chance."<br />
<br />
I didn't want to give it a chance I wanted to go. This wasn't my idea of Halloween fun. I wanted candy and apple cider. Maybe a fire even. It was chilly enough.<br />
<br />
"I can't see anything. Where the heck are we?"<br />
<br />
"It looks like we are in the Bates Motel if you want me to be honest."<br />
<br />
To be frank, I didn't want him to be honest. I saw a pale yellow glow stick off in the distance and decided being honest, at times, had its shortcomings. I wanted him to lie and say we were Tahiti or somewhere else where the lights might still be on.<br />
<br />
"Seriously?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah! Isn't it cool?"<br />
<br />
Cool? No, it definitely wasn't cool.<br />
<br />
I clung to Simon's shirt (the wrinkle is in there permanently I am afraid) as we walked through pitch black narrow hallways lit only by what I imagined were small clusters of Christmas lights stuck inside various closets along the way. What had he gotten me into?<br />
<br />
I found I couldn't breathe and I squeezed my eyes shut so as not to let anything in, praying we would make it out alive.<br />
<br />
The air around us was damp as if we were walking through a thick mist and when something cold touched my cheek, I screamed in spite of my desire to stay invisible.<br />
<br />
My eyes shot open, also in spite of my desire to keep them shut, and I was face to face with an knife-wielding Norman Bates wearing a lopsided woman's wig that I guessed once belonged to his mother.<br />
<br />
I screamed again, louder this time and shoved Simon to the ground as I plowed over him in search of the exit. I left him alone with Norman Bates a fact I am neither proud of nor ashamed of. Self-preservation is a tough cookie.<br />
<br />
When I finally found my way outside I discovered the Halloween sky was full of stars and the air was cold and dry. There was however, the faint smell of snow in the air and I thought how wonderful it would be to be home in front of the fire when the storm hit later on that night.<br />
<br />
My racing heart slowed as I gazed at the star lit sky and I soon realized I could breathe once again.<br />
<br />
Simon appeared a few seconds later looking slightly disheveled but really none the worse for the wear.<br />
<br />
"Was that really necessary?"<br />
<br />
He was frowning but I knew he thought it was all great fun.<br />
<br />
I grabbed him and pulled him close to me, giving him a deep kiss on his lips.<br />
<br />
"Are you ready to go home now?"<br />
<br />
This time he didn't even think about it.<br />
<br />
"Yep. Let's blow this popsicle stand."<br />
<br />
He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of Knott's Scary Farm and Halloween Horror Nights, leaving their version of Psycho far behind us.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000941205503502011.post-70314374556251648902015-10-09T11:52:00.002-07:002015-10-09T11:53:07.745-07:0031 Days of Halloween Tales - The Banshee Wails<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9zSKAjamUgdFtOOPpLMLVKiD8w8wy_rtWEVj2GxaG_NBLAFiycCOboiBnr0_1LI6pHiImzmGlWOlsmDotap2OmszVbb3nwMKZ5ZdAnpaL2lemljAKd-2WyeHQOBByDkyR-tQ8w3U2g8/s1600/Banshee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9zSKAjamUgdFtOOPpLMLVKiD8w8wy_rtWEVj2GxaG_NBLAFiycCOboiBnr0_1LI6pHiImzmGlWOlsmDotap2OmszVbb3nwMKZ5ZdAnpaL2lemljAKd-2WyeHQOBByDkyR-tQ8w3U2g8/s400/Banshee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A little tale entitled:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Banshee Wails</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
It was easier in the end, with what I know.<br />
<br />
To know the truth.<br />
<br />
We each owe a debt and we can pay it in this life or the next, the choice is always up to you. Most people choose the later, rolling the dice and hedging the bet, hoping the debt never actually comes due. I was one of the lucky ones, I learned early enough to pay up front because credit always comes at a cost.<br />
<br />
I was sixteen when my sister died. It was just another Halloween night in southern California but this night the Santa Ana winds had arrived and on their coattails, the Banshee rode. I heard her wail just after dusk and just in case you have been fortunate enough never to have heard her keen, you cannot mistake it for anything else. It is a mournful sound, lonely and cold like a lone fog horn on a silent snowy night.<br />
<br />
My sister Ellen had been ill for some time but even when I heard the song of the Banshee I didn't imagine it was for her. She was only seven years old but with a soul so old you knew from the moment she was born, she already understood more about life than the rest of us who had been here for awhile. She was blessed with the face of an angel and thick dark auburn hair and eyes of such a deep blue you needed look at them twice before deciding on their actual color.<br />
<br />
She was beautiful still, even in the end, the disease not having eaten away at her. We were lucky I guess for that much. Or maybe it made it harder, I can't be sure.<br />
<br />
I was sitting in the living room when I heard Ellen call out to me. I didn't hurry, I was sixteen after all but I soon stopped the game I was playing and went in to check on her. She was sitting up in bed, her hair down over her shoulders and across her pillow like an fiery cloak. She looked pale, more so than she ever had been and I immediately became worried.<br />
<br />
"Did you hear that, Will?"<br />
<br />
I realized then that she had heard the same thing I did but I refused to let on.<br />
<br />
"Do you mean the wind, El? It's just the Santa Ana blowing."<br />
<br />
She stared at me then, the cutting kind of stare that told me to stop the nonsense because she saw right through me.<br />
<br />
"Not the wind. That was the Banshee." She sat there on her bed, her head cocked slightly to one side as she listened to the sound of her own death calling her soul out into the night.<br />
<br />
I was sick, my stomach churned and twisted and I wanted to go and get my parents. I didn't want to do this alone.<br />
<br />
"No, El. It's just the wind. Just the Santa Ana winds come calling."<br />
<br />
I was trying to convince myself as much as I was trying to convince her but in the end, I did neither.<br />
<br />
Ellen's gaze was still looking at something I could not see when she whispered, "Come closer to me, Will."<br />
<br />
I was terrified to get closer to her, the way she looked so far off and dazed but I was just as afraid not to. My love for my sister was stronger than my fear however and I walked over and sat down on the twin bed next to her.<br />
<br />
I took her hands into mine, I remember how cold they were and thinking that it wasn't right. For these two tiny and oh so gentle hands to be so cold.<br />
<br />
"I will die tonight, Will."<br />
<br />
"NO!!"<br />
<br />
I yelled loud enough to make myself cringe at the sound of my voice but Ellen didn't even seem to notice.<br />
<br />
"We can't stop it. Will. You can't stop it no matter how much you wish it not to be so. But you need to know something."<br />
<br />
I was beyond listening and beyond grief. I wanted to run away, to hide from her. I couldn't bear the pain.<br />
<br />
But she continued.<br />
<br />
'There is another life beyond this one Will so don't be afraid."<br />
<br />
Was this delirium? Wishful thinking on the part of a dying child?<br />
<br />
"We are put here for a purpose, sometimes we can see our purpose clearly and other times it is cloudy. But remember that Will. We are all here for a purpose. Mine was just to teach you how to love and to give your heart freely." She touched my cheek with her icy fingers.<br />
<br />
"Your heart is opened now and you must keep it that way. Your purpose has yet to come to light but when it does, you will understand."<br />
<br />
I wanted no part of her nonsense, this was gibberish and I only wanted my sister. My head ranted and railed as my heart shattered inside my chest.<br />
<br />
All this happened even as I understood she was telling me the truth.<br />
<br />
I cried then and she held me, a child consoling a man who could not yet comprehend the loss he hadn't yet begun to grasp the depth of. In time I would understand that there is no bottom to grief but I didn't know that then.<br />
<br />
She was holding me in her arms when she died but I knew it the moment it happened. It wasn't that she let go of me, on the contrary, she held me tightly to her as she passed through me in an instant.<br />
<br />
I felt her as she left, a still entity with all her hopes and dreams going with it. I saw it all. Her life, her moments of pure joy and surprisingly to a young man who had yet to understand, very little sadness.<br />
<br />
I stopped crying long enough to see her pale shadow stand before me, long fiery hair swirling around her head like a soft red halo. She smiled at me then and I think I smiled back. She gave no notice to her body on the bed as if it was discarded clothing that no longer fit her and that she no longer required.<br />
<br />
There was a moment I wanted to go with her, to follow her where she was going. There was no fear on her face, only peace and contentment and even as a young man I wished to know that same tranquility. I reached for her hand but she pulled away from me, blowing me a kiss as she faded into the air and was gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That was many years ago and I am an old man of eighty-nine now. My life has been blessed with a wonderful wife, four beautiful children and nearly a dozen grandchildren.<br />
<br />
Like I said, I've been lucky.<br />
<br />
Now, it is Halloween night and the Santa Ana wind is blowing in again from the east.<br />
<br />
Once more I hear the woeful wail of the Banshee but this time it is my name she is calling. It is as clear as a whisper in my ear and yet there is no fear.<br />
<br />
Ellen is sitting beside me, her long auburn hair flowing across her shoulders and tickling my arms. <br />
<br />
She is holding me tightly to her as she did that night so long ago.<br />
<br />
And this time I know.<br />
<br />
She will not leave me behind.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Cynthia Hudson Keanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16664430309647989880noreply@blogger.com0