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.

Harper Valley #2

My family spent a lot of time ´╗┐in and out of mental institutions. So I try to limit what I let everyone else in on. The ghost sight shows for example, those will not be shared.

Harper House was always strange,even before it was empty.And everyone has seen things there.It’s like a legend.


I’m folding clothes when I hear it…the sound of a girl laughing…I look outside …and I see her…dancing in a blue dress …she runs around the house out of my line of vision. I feel a cold chill down my spine. Turning back to the laundry, her dress is laying  there –across the sofa. 

The turning of the screw

2015/01/img_5645-0.jpgphoto origin

There is the familiar weight
In the sound
Of someone walking through the house at night
The echo of
furniture dragged across the floor
And then that one sound
Children crying

You think something has moved
In with you
You look through the house
There’s a door
Behind the door there is a stairway
Just as you reach the top
You hear foot steps below
As children’s toys start running
Behind the wall
Behind the wall
A hidden door…

you find your bodies
Lying in the floor
And remember…
It was
Gunshots from behind you
Fingers clawing at the floor
the turning of the screws
As they bolted up the door.

You’re not the haunted
You’re the haunting
You don’t live here anymore ….

Room 222

I’ve always been a fool
For film
old records
New art
Old books
And hard sole shoes
For paper
Bound in leather
And ink
And cameras
I liked ghosts
I liked empty buildings
Maybe that’s why I
Went to the hotel
On Manchester avenue
Maybe that’s how
I came to be famous
But I still feel bad about it
I feel as though I stole something

You see
It was between 1 and 3 am
That’s when all writers write
Anything worth writing
And fear forgetting
And that’s when
Any good ghosts
Go ghosting

I heard a woman singing
In the hall
So I went to check it out
When I looked
I just caught the glimpse of a dress
Around the corner
So I followed

Only to catch a door as it closed
In room 222
My heart in my throat
I entered
To find
And papers
And art
And film
This room
At the end of the hall
With a woman in white
And steel blue eyes
Singing her song quietly

I asked her what it was
When she handed me a journal
I opened it
To find
A short story
I had planned on writing
For my 18th birthday
But quickly forgot …
I looked up at her
Her eyes quietly speaking

This room
Was where
All our ideas
The ones we lose
The ones we burn
Worn and burned
Lost and forgotten
They were agony
They were art
So I stole them
I published them
And I made my fortune
For every success
Part of me became this place
I couldn’t leave it
I couldn’t make art
Outside of this room
Eventually in time
I became just as much
Of it
As the woman in white
Walking the halls
Or the lampshade on the night stand
The key in the door
I’ve forgotten how
Introductions go…
I’m only thinking of
Endings …
Hung up
Within in-betweens
Like the vortex
Of 1 and 3 am
That’s what I am….


The fire was rising higher
Licking the trees above us
The cold moving in
Around me
I looked to my right
As my cousin set the
Pillar ablaze
His eyes were glass…
Helena’s screams reached
Well beyond us …my heart was racing her face was disappearing
I couldn’t watch …
I looked away
Darion was dragging
Kicking with a busted mouth
to the third pillar
He tossed her
slamming his fist into her throat
“quiet fucking bitch!
bring me the rope
And sometime today dammit!”
I was sick
I couldn’t breathe
You could smell flesh
And hear it burning
Against the cold
Melissa was restrained
He leaned forward
” I’m gonna let you pray”
He placed a blade to her throat
As she started whispering
My eyes started burning again
My head hurting
I grew cold
Then all at once
I felt the blade
slit her throat
It was just enough
To keep her from screaming
He leaned forward
Staring into her eyes
As they glazed over
“God doesn’t talk to women…witch”
He dropped the torch

fog was moving through the valley
As we rode
To the next village
I looked over to the edge of the tree line
You could see the fog shifting
As men lined the water
I looked over to my cousin
“Who are they? ” I asked
He looked straight ahead
His face went grim
“We’ve awoke something evil”
something cold
Moved inside me
As we waited
You could hear a kind of
fish jumping in the water
And then Silence ….
As fog rose
And then I saw it

shadows moving
Slowly across
I grew colder
They moved with the air
And then disappeared
Falling against us silently
All I could see was blood
I stood there watching
As my eyes burned
Everything fell into a vortex
Blurred but
I heard
As men were reaching
Screaming again
I felt a hand touch me
I looked down
A shadowed figure
above my cousin
He pierced his chest
Gripping his
Heart crushing it

Slowly turning
To me
He rose
I tried to move
I tried to run
But everything was blurred
And cold
And my eyes were burning
And then I heard
Through the air around me
A voice
Like he was pacing me
In a circle

“You’re focused on the light
Look through the shadow.forget the light”

I looked up at the moon
It’s light fell across us
And then I saw the shadows
And I faded into it
Moving between the light
Nothing was blurred
Only vivid…

Origin unknown

Little girls laughing

based on actual events
It follows you home

Image origin (unknown)

When I was little I used to see
This little girl
She looked just like my sister
In a blue dress
She would stand outside in the field
Just staring at the house
I asked my mother about her
But she just laughed
Until one day
Everyone was gone
home alone
I was doing laundry
When i heard
A little girl
I looked outside the window
And saw a girl dancing
And then run around the house
A blue dress flashing by
The door
I felt a nervous chill
Run through the house
I looked around
It was laying on the couch empty
My sisters dress

A few years
All of us girls got together
For drinks
When Jessica pulled out a Ouija board
She said she had found it
Marian was nervous
But we all thought nothing of it
It was just drinks and fun
Marian had just had her fourth
So when it spelled out her child’s name
We stopped
Looking at each-other
Jessica’s phone started ringing
It was Marian
I asked her
“What are you doing?”
She looked at me scared
Putting it on speaker phone
We listened
A child crying in the background
We ran out of the house
To the car where Marian left her phone
It was dead….

I haven’t had another experience
In a while
Until I was writing
The other night
Home alone
My keyboard started
Writing it’s own

I froze
Feeling chilled
I got up and turned off my light
laying down I turned over
To the face of the dead little girl
From my childhood.

A haunting

journal entry
October 15

Says she’s infested
From the inside
Like a virus
A tape worm
At her skin
Screaming about voices
In the walls

I think my Anna
Needs help
The Dr says she’s fine
She’s been acting strange
Staring …
Into blankness
While chopping vegetables
She was chopping into her fingers
Only to apologize numbly
Later I walked in on her
Clawing at the walls
Mumbling about scratching
And voices
I couldn’t get her to calm down

We slept together
It was like an acid trip
Her eyes were dead pools
Her fingernails clawing into my skin
She wasn’t there
I woke up
I woke up
I heard singing in the kitchen
I heard movement
I heard dishes
I walked in…
To her hanging from the ceiling

Woke up
Hearing Anna call him
I stopped him just outside my bedroom
“She’s calling me,mothers calling me”
I didn’t tell him I could hear her too

I can’t sleep
I hear footsteps
I see my Anna standing in the Corner
She doesn’t say anything

Oct 28

She’s hanging from the ceiling
She’s walking in the halls
I’m going behind her
Closing all the doors
There’s someone in the walls
I hear her calling out to Ronnie
I can’t stop him anymore
There’s a little girl
By the stairs
Playing with a kitten
Ronnie loves
Kittens …
She has dead pool eyes ….
I can’t help him …
I can’t help me…

I heard her calling him
I was going to get up
But Anna is standing by my bed …


Highway 11 (Annabel-dreams)

You know the feeling you get,when you’re driving late at night….and you think you see a figure
Standing on the side of the road…
It’s usually to the side of a road sign
Or just underneath it…

What if you continue to see it
What if it stays when you look again
What if you could hear it scream.

What about the feeling you get just after that…
The one where you feel like
There’s a body in the car with you
Emanating heat…
It’s just a shadow …
A presence …
Your hands grip the wheel
You look to the passenger seat…

They say, her name is Annabel
She appears to motorists
On the side of the road
Only at night
Midday if it’s raining
Or overcast
If you hear her scream
just as you’re shoulder to shoulder with her –
Her jaw dropping wide –
High pitched – screeching…
You feel it moving through time and space
More than hearing it..
You’ll never mention it to anyone.
And her eyes….
cold,solid white…
Sometimes black….

She was a student at the local
Community college
Dating a media journalist from outside of town.
Manic depressive
Very anxious
Family issues
Her mother left
Just after her father
Gifted her with a house

Annabel disappeared
On valentines day
Exactly 9 months later
Haunting of highway 11 began
It’s said
Her boyfriend
Angry,after another
Very common fight
drug her
To her mothers house –
That house she hated
Chaining her to the porch
During a storm
He left her there
Screaming into an anxiety meltdown
In the dark
With the abandoned house
Of every bad memory
And demon she feared
And hated

she walks the highway at night
You See her in your headlights
And even hear her screaming ..
You’ll tighten your grip
Feeling a presence
Look to the passenger seat
A pitch black presence beside you
As your stomach lurches

You’ll carry her home
She’s very patient
Until the night
When you hear her
In your halls
Step by step
The floor protesting
Her presence
Outside your bedroom door
She’s there with you.
Maybe you make it home…

Reagan’s Category

This is Reagan
Many of you know
Reagan.He’s my brother.
If you don’t know Reagan
Look under my autism category.
In which case -voila-what an introduction.
He’s reading now,and quite – well if I do say so myself.
Therefore, I have had an idea!
Because I was surrounded by small children all day,
And I was looking at children’s books
The other day at the library
(They’re just so awesome)
1 story a week
For Reagan
Which shall be FILED
Under his new category
I just made and I can’t remember
What it’s called,but it has his name on it!.
So you will know it.
This category
Will feature
All of Reagan’s favorite things
Short stories
The absolute
Red handed
Worst thing next to

Once a week!
Good day.