Sorry about the tiny text, I don’t know how to fix it on the iPad.
Why is this bridge bothering me, besides a bit of claustrophobia? I can feel my adrenaline pumping, my fight or flight response taking over.
In the fading twilight, my eyes peer everywhere, searching for something, whatever is outthere. As I step across the bridge it creaks. Then I swear I hear heavy breathing, a growl perhaps? I start to run and the end of the bridge is ten steps in front of me.
Then, I am across the bridge and I hear nothing. It’s trying not to make a sound and the silence makes me sweat. Minutes pass, I believe fifteen? I sigh, shaking my head, thinking I’ve been afraid of something I imagined.
Then, it grabs me, sharp teeth sinking in; it’s too late to scream.
Welcome to my house. I’ll try hard not to terrify you to death 😉
We’ve got Black Magic, Bloody Mary ,Skulls and Bone, Flesh Juice, Crushed Bones, Pickled Veins, Marrow Worms, Boggle The Eyes’ Scary pumpkins etc, etc, Just talk to the ghoul in the house and choose your poison.
Let’s meet & mingle, shake a leg & jingle, connect & interact with other awesome folks in here.
If this is your first-time visit, the house rules of play are outlined below, if you are an old-timer, you know the drill.
Just some little party rules:
You must mix and mingle with others. Don’t be a wallflower. Go say hello to someone and you can participate in the Tag a poem, a thought or quote below.
Let us know where you are blogging from.
Please leave your blog link or post link in the comment box below along with introductions.
He cuts the top off his pumpkin, just as the doctor Victor Frankenstein cut the top off the head of fiend –the demon Mary Shelley wrote of –known as Frankenstein.
The top comes off the pumpkin with a sucking sound and the man grimaces at the putrid smell of pumpkin guts; as he reaches inside to clean the guts a grim laughter echoes throughout the dark house and the man trembles; he laughs at himself knowing the black night and howling wind are only tricking him into being afraid.
Then, the pumpkin head peers up at the man and he screeches like a little girl, hiding under the table; a headless body appears and replaces and the top of the pumpkin; the body places the pumpkin on his neck where his head should be; the pumpkin transforms –eyes triangle cut-outs where fire burns and mouth open with sharp glistening teeth; the headless horsemen goes outside to do his demonic duty on ‘All Hallows’ Eve’ –the ageless creature of horror; he cuts off the head of the crying man for his first head of the night.
“Fragrance is a powerful thing. It can bring you back to your favorite meal your mother used to make, to your first kiss, to any number of events in your life. Free write for 10 minutes and see where your nose leads you, if your words need some encouragement, walk outside, down the street, through a mall, through a forest until your nose reminds you and the words begin to flow.”
Scent of cinnamon, apple pie freshly made, divine,
Easter ham glazed with pineapple rings, smoked, homemade.
Perogies, bacon, onion, soft satingdivine.
Walking outside after it rains, pine scent invades,
Deep breath, acrid wonderful smell naturedivine.
Puppies and kitties, newborn babes, a scent persudes,
Love, care for, feed and adore, keep safe those divine.
Incense in churches, candles burning, chants disuade,
Wine strong, broken bread, prayers with coffee wake the divine.
“A Ghazal is a poem that is made up like an odd numbered chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem. It should be natural to put a comma at the end of the first line. The Ghazal has a refrain of one to three words that repeat, and an inline rhyme that preceedes the refrain. Lines 1 and 2, then every second line, has this refrain and inline rhyme, and the last couplet should refer to the authors pen-name… The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA etc.”
Belinda was a nasty middle-aged woman, but her behaviours were characteristic of someone older.
She was mentally and physically sound; however, the pucker of her frown never left her face. Wrinkles indented themselves deeply into her forehead, around her eyes, and around her mouth; her skin was pasty white.
She pretended to walk feebly; but when a neighbourhood child or dog was near her property she ran out screaming, wearing stodgy Victorian gowns, no skin showing but her face and hands. Her hair was always severely pulled back in a tight bun.
Besides a cat or four, she disliked everyone. She made known she had cut her family out of her will. All her money would go to a stern Catholic congeragation she had terrorized since she was four.
An old trailer and burned-out truck from a cousin who had lived with her, remained on her lawn, even after the cousin disappeared. No one who entered Belinda’s house came back out, only her cats.
The neighbours thought this had been occurring for some three-hundred years, having heard the same stories from their great-grandparents and before.
Was Belinda a ghost? A banchee? A witch? No one knew. But every now and then someone disappeared inside her doorway and everyone knew that person wouldn’t be returning.
“It will never burn. It’s stone and concrete. People don’t build monumental buildings to burn easily these days,” Trent commented.
“Well they used to and this building is pretty old. I’d say it’s eighteen-hundreds,” Chip guesstimated.
“Yeah, I took some art history so I’d know. Burning this building won’t destroy the whole thing, but it will burn a lot of history within. Maybe it’s like the White House when the Canadian’s burnt it in the War of 1812,” Chip said.
“Pffff . . . Canadians aren’t that aggressive,”Trent said.
“Oh yeah well why do you think it’s called the White House? Canadians and British soldiers burnt it and the states had to white wash it after rebuilding some parts; white washing covered up the smoke damage and scorch marks.”
“But wasn’t Canada more a British colony at that point? So, the fault lies with the British who were leading things,” Trent insisted.
“Many of the soldiers identified as Canadian, Trent,whether or not they were led by Britain; the States shouldn’t have tried to take the Canadas, as upper and lower Canada were known then.”
“Um, that’s a great history lesson but why do you want to burn this building?”
Chip’s eyes grew dark, “Some people just like to watch the world burn; but I’m okay with one building . . . to start.”