The moon Queen

They say, she left her heart open, in the rain…

Every Tuesday

She would pick her flowers

And write her songs

No one knows much about her

What she really thought

How she felt about things

They only remember her sadness and her tragedy

I like to think

I know what she felt,

Some nights

At 3am

I can hear her playing the piano

Its music fills the halls upstairs

Some nights

When the moon is full

And melancholy

You can see her window open

Her wide, deep, dark eyes

And her blue dress

Sometimes it’s white

But she’s only there for a minute

And then she’s gone

You might see her at the top of the stairs

Or entering someone’s room

Trying to find something she’s left behind

I’ve seen some of her paintings

Some of her sketches

And heard her songs

I think I know what it must have felt like

To be filled so full

And not know

How to express it

To feel so alone

Like an outsider

Maybe she’s still trying to work it out….

They say

You feel the fear

And the terror

If you see her face though

The pain of dying

The air turns cold

I don’t believe it

I think you see the emptiness inside of yourself

No one knows what really happened to her

Her letters

Still show up under my door

That’s when I find her paintings

Inside empty rooms

Sometimes they’re in the park

I’ve seen her walking

When the moon is full

And the fog is down,

I don’t know why she talks to me

Maybe it’s because we are both alone

Filled with things to say

And unsure of how to say them

Maybe it never goes away

Maybe it doesn’t ever let go,

Maybe we just keep on trying

Even after we’re gone….

I don’t know her name

I only call her the moon queen….

Haunted October #6

There it was the camera flashing 

Illuminating the barn 

The smell hanging thick in the air 

Like the humidity 

Everyone wanted their picture taken 

Everyone wanted to look the same 

Dead eyes 

Pale perfect  skin 

There was no blemish 

No stretch marks 

Life sized dolls 

The photographer 

Made his living this way 

He simply gave them what they wanted 

He had his own bills to pay 

But there they were 

He felt like a dressmaker 

Or an old con man selling sugar packets 

Dead eyes staring back at him…

Everything is copy.  

Haunted October #5

The house was quiet until the painting arrived. 

Just a girl in a chair. 

No one knows why 

But the oldest sister

She cared for the painting 

And she always laughed at the stories people told,when they could hear the girl crying. Or screaming through the house. 

“Don’t pay any attention. It’s just the wind coming in from the ocean. It echoes through these old walls.”

But things started moving. 

They went missing. 

During some parties 

The fire would go out 

Or if out 

It would suddenly burn to life…

The older sister 

she looked after the painting. 

She carried it everywhere she moved.

She never married. 

And sometimes at night she could be heard talking in the halls or the kitchen…and a girl could be heard answering her. 

Haunted October#3

I remember the first time I heard them. Walking through the house at night. Three am. The lights flooded through the windows. 

That was the night the neighbours house burned down. 

The following week they found the girl in the river. 

I hadn’t thought about it much, not until I was visiting a friend. And I saw the news. Another house burned down. 

The same street I grew up on. 

“Hey I’m sorry, excuse me.” I said. Stepping over this kid he was babysitting. She just kept looking at the tv. I went into the kitchen and asked them about the house. But they didn’t know anything. 

I decided I would drive out and look around.

“Hey what happened to the kid that was here earlier?.”

“What kid?” 

“The one that was right here.”

Both of them just looked at each other. “We don’t have a kid,man.”

Later that night I was getting ready for bed. Brushing my teeth, I got a cold chill while spitting in the sink. I looked into the mirror and saw the girl sitting on the washer behind me. Her hair was wet. 

The power went out just as I looked away.

Wet feet ran through the house. 

When the lights came on I couldn’t find anything.

Today they found another body in the river…

Cold #4

“Most people never die suddenly. Your body spends years sending you warnings. A man of 55 dies and it’s a tragedy, yes. But not a sudden one. Habits, They can be read like a timeline. We ignore Doctors and keep on with our lifestyles. One day the body just … runs out of road. You want to live healthy? Start talking to your  Doctor when you’re 28, before you start falling apart.” 

Janice was examining a body on the table. All of the lights were off in the room. None of the computers were running in the background.  It was quiet. It had been swept clean from budget cuts. Making it easier to hear her through the phone call. 

” So when I tell you, this body. These bodies. They shouldn’t be here. I mean it. These cells. Agent, They’re billions of years old.” 

She stood up straight. 

“Infected with Virus. They’re reproducing through bacteria from the site. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

– what do you mean from the site? He could feel the pressure in his gut. He was suddenly aware of the limited space of his Bronco. Driving back to the site where they found the hunters and the Coyote. 

“I mean,” Janice was saying…

“- I don’t know how, maybe it was dormant deep in the earth. Somehow, through rising tempatures. These cells, they’re awake. Infecting the water. All of the wildlife in areas red and yellow? Infected. Our hunter had a good hunting day. And was infected as well. Passing it to others. And then you have the water and the town.”

– so this is a virus? 

“Unlike we’ve ever known. This is older than anything we’ve ever seen.” 

He pulled to a stop. Hanging up the phone. The area was on fire. As men were putting up road blocks. 

“What’s going on here? We need to close this area and quarantine these people…”

“Baldwin, I can’t just quarantine an entire area like this. The paper work alone- listen, It’s State Property. Slotted for fracking next year. It’s already in the budget. And you know just like anybody else… that money is already spent. No refunds.  We’ll torch it. And restrict the area. That’s the most we can do.” 

“People have died. And will cont-”

“Hey, we’ve already sent in the report to the Feds. It was imported food and big pharma.” Nothing else. You did a good job. Let it go. 

He couldn’t believe it…

And thought again of Janice’s words…

No one just dies suddenly. It builds up slowly overtime. We just ignore the warnings. 

Cold #2

The bell jingled for the third time. Elisabeth sat up in bed.

 “Lou Lou?” 

It was a little girl’s  voice.  

She fumbled in the darkness to check her phone. 3am …

The hallway was pitch black and felt longer and colder…

The bell jingled again. 

“Lou Lou.” 

There in the darkness at the end of the hall. Was a little girl …

She tried to breathe…she didn’t have children… and she didn’t babysit…

The girl just stood there

That’s when elisabeth saw the dark figure behind the girl. It’s big eyes 

And smiling face. 

The clown holding a bell and a knife 

“Lou Lou” It said. 

The girl laughed

Elisabeth grabbed the wall looking behind her. 

“Lou Lou.” 

The little girl laughed again.

And the bell rang one last time.

ColdĀ 

The River was still. Bugs swarmed the area. Agent Baldwin slowed his Bronco to a stop. Looking the area over. The dead coyote laying still beside the bank. 

– What’ve we got? 

– Another animal gone rogue. Jumps a local while he’s fishing, in broad daylight. Crashed into his driver’s side window. Lucky it was up. First thing he noticed was all the bugs. 

He shrugged his shoulders and swatted the flies away. Looking over the dead coyote. 

– Strange behaviour. Especially for this time of year. 

He sighed. Checked his phone. Another call. Another local. 

– Bag it up and bring him in. I’ll have Janice look him over. Thanks for calling me, Darryl. 

– Don’t mention it. 

Darryl shook hands and climbed back into his car. 

Baldwin looked over the area one more time before starting his old Bronco and heading to town. 

The Nightwalker #4

Darkness filled the room. The air growing cold. You could see your own breath.

Clayton, couldn’t move. Paralyzed by fear. He could smell them. Hear the steps around the walls of the room. Feeling the weight shift in the bed as they lay down beside him. He was frozen on his side. A hand gripped his shoulder slowly, a piercing as if slowly being stabbed in the back. 

A shadowed figure stood before him when he opened his eyes again. 

“Harvest is coming.” It whispered. 

Jack was on the outside of the bedroom door. Pounding it with his fists. Trying to get it open. Shaking it. 

“Clayton! Clayton! Focus! Try to move your hand you will wake up!”

Clayton couldn’t hear it… everything was a vacuum of fog in his head. All he could hear was the whispering of voices in the cold room. 

“I’m coming. Harvest is coming. ”


Afterword I stood in the room. Clayton showed me his back… a cold burn over his shoulder. 

“This is real.” I said with disbelief. I don’t understand. 

Clayton looked at me. 

“I know what Harvest is I know what it means. He’s coming.”

Clayton put his face in his hands rubbing his eyes he looked up at me. 

“The Reaper. Jack.  This is real. and he’s coming.”

The Party Guest

Someone had told him about witches once when he was a boy. But he had laughed. Those were just fairy tales. Not anything real.

This Halloween party was boring him to death. The boredom was palpable.

That’s when he saw her in the corner. Black heels, a tight fishnet  dress with sleeves fanning  out over her wrists. She had a drink in her hand. He liked the way she looked at him-the way she smiled just as she slipped out of the room  into the library. 

He followed her. 

Someone told him once about ghosts. But he didn’t believe in things like that. They weren’t real. They were just stories we tell.

There was a conversation once about sex, but he couldn’t remember it. A science experiment, rats being electrocuted on a treadmill but followed by an orgasm. They kept going until they died. He couldn’t remember the details. 

The library was empty. Her glass was on the floor. The door was open. He walked out into the darkness. Her shoes were cast off on the path. The cold darkness was something he couldn’t feel. She was just ahead of him. Slowly undressing leaving a new article of clothing on the path. 

His head was pounding…he was burning up. 

It seemed as though shadows ran past him. Screams in the trees. Pitched echoes and whispers beside him, followed by laughing. 

She was standing there in the middle of the path. Waiting.

She turned her back to him, giving him her neck, he smelled her hair. Just the slip of her dress left cast on the ground. She took his hands and pulled them around her. She was completely naked. And warm.

His hands were shaking as he touched her.

Everything was so heavy and blurred. 

All of the voices.

He touched her. 

All of the voices came together. Right there before him. From her.

The dead girl in his arms. Blood warm. Her dress torn from her, left hanging by fragments. Her feet bleeding from running barefoot. 

There was only darkness. Only cold. Only silence. 

Turning back to the house. A white shirt in plastic was hanging from a tree. He took it. Changing quickly as he walked. Followed by a suit jacket. 

Someone told him once about vampires. But he knew, they were just the dead. The real demons were the living. Hunting for sex, for power, seeing everything as an invitation. 

Last- a pair of shoes on the well. He slipped them on and dropped his dirty pair into the dark water. He stepped  back into the library. Picking up the drink from the floor, he closed the door. 

“Great party!” Someone said. 

He turned around, smiling and raised his glass. He nodded to his guests.

Flowers for December #2

Part two 

What am I doing here? I hate crowds I hate people. People are the worst. Crowding out everything suffocating the air out of the room. Living between panic and depression and just one text message or notification  from a heart attack.

It’s unfortunate that I chose journalism as my profession.

I move through the hallway of the hotel making my way past the staff and the staff infections. To the elevators.

Everyone has smiling faces. I notice as the doors close. A drink in one hand and a phone in the other. Pitching ideas. Checking updates. Laughing about today. Planning out tomorrow. 

They don’t know. 

I look beyond the faces to the back of the conference hall. The empty platform waiting. 

They really don’t know. 

Or maybe they just don’t care. 

I check my notes…

Room 669 

The light counting off the floors.