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….

Beagle in the City #236

Ethan: So, How are my guys, what did you do today?

Garf: Well, first I got up and moved my blanket. Then I got it just right but I was tired again, so I took a nap.

Simon: I ate some breakfast, took a nap, drank some water.

Ethan: Don’t you guys DO anything?

Garf: Oh I got in the bathroom trash! Does that count ?

Ethan: No.

Garf: Before you get mad, I can negotiate, I have an embarrassing Christmas time photo of another puppy dog…

Simon: He’s lying dad! Don’t listen to him…pictures aren’t real…Look at me dad. Look at me.

Garf: Then what are these!!!

Ethan: WOW, o.k. Well, first. This is only one photo…so…there’s that. Second, this is awesome. Garfunkel, You’re free to go. The court thanks you.

Beagle in the City #208

Simon: What are we doing? What’s that?

Ethan: It’s a golf club. I’m practicing my grip…

Simon: Grip? Well I can do that. If you want to grip it, just grab it like this, and pin it to the ground, and shaaaake it.

Ethan: Give me that. Not that kind of grip. Now. I’m going to hit this ball.

Simon: BALL!

Ethan: Stay. No, stay, do you want me to knock your brains out by accident? Stay – right there.

Simon: I’m a good boy. I’ll stay right here, and then I’ll go get the – BALL!!

Simon: where did it go?

Ethan: It’s out there. Go get it.

Simon: Where?

Ethan: use your nose.

Simon: Oh yeah!

Simon: I godt it. Bleh. It’s kind of wet. Let’s do it again.

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…

Harper Valley #3

   

Sylvia’s perfect pitched voice accompanying her name brand walking bill board style, accosted me in the hallway,just between classes. “Hey,hey, skank. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?.” 

“Hang out with you,and a bunch of horny, pizza faced boys,all trying to stay up past midnight? …let me try and hold back my enthusiasm.”

“I have some girlfriends coming over too…if that’s more your thing…”

I just stared at her…”Sylvi,I hate men.but that doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian.” 

“Yeah ok…look I have a  Ouija board …and besides that…we’re having it at Harper House…but…(she looked away,as if not to care) if you don’t want to go,I guess we will manage without you. It’s just an old house with lots of empty rooms.”

“Hold on,Sylvi…just …curse you…fine..I’ll try and make it.You witch.”

She tossed her hair and flashed another billboard smile…I imagined her in one of those dental hygiene commercials,you know,the ones where everyone is happy.They make the toothpaste appear miraculously to cure depression and pay off all student loans… “splendid.I’ll let the girls know.” She said just before strutting away.


Night School 

Harper House is even more terrifying at night. And there really wasn’t that many of us there. Carolyn of course and Rachael….Sylvia…and Ariel,who Carolyn insisted upon coming because she had just experienced a miscarriage…with …oh what’s his name…Robbie ? Was it Robbie? seems like a cheap name…very generic…maybe it was the other guy…the animal shelter guy.I don’t know.Not my monkeys. The night was filled with drunken chaos-naturally- I will Spare you the details of all the madness…Eric insisted upon groping every girl present,and his winning hook line and sinker was that ‘ we have the cure for a zombie apocalypse…it just has one side affect…Gay Autism.’ 

Who could possibly see where he was going wrong…there was just too many holes in his game.

inevitably we were  persuaded  along with our ouija board to an open window in the house…which just happened to be …the library.  


Candles 

Stairwells 

One empty library 

Rachael

Carolyn 

Sylvi 

Megan 

Ariel 


Outside it started to rain 

A real thunderstorm 

You could feel the air thicken 

As Sylvi lit the candles and started things off …

Touching the Oracle 

“Is there anything in here?

Tell us what you know?”

Nothing happened …

We all looked at each-other

Then scratches appeared on Sylvi’s wrist and Ariels phone started ringing 

She looked at it 

Then over at me

“Why are you calling me April?”

I shook my head 

“I’m not-my phone is outside.Use speaker phone.”

At first there was just static

But you could hear someone walking above us in the stairwell

And then the sound of a rocking chair 

And a crying baby 

Over the phone 

We all froze 

I jumped up first

Followed by the others 

we were running outside in the same direction,to the car.

I grabbed my phone out of the side pocket….

“It’s dead.”

I looked at Ariel.She was soaking wet from the storm and the run..but you could tell she was crying…we all were pale…and frankly scared shitless.

I looked at the house again 

The porch 

The windows 

The darkness that surrounded it 

Then I saw her 

Step into the window 

Staring at us 

In her blue dress 

I looked at the girls and back again 

But she was gone 

There was only the curtain 



New York #1

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photo origin

When you think of New York
You don’t think of buildings
Or population
Of the weather …
The smell of asphalt
Wet and burning
Which makes the people
Feel more like
Rodents running
No,no,
You think of
Opportunity
At least I did

I was telling my sister
This at her bar
I great little place
A hole in the wall
I love coming here to relax
play piano at the window
Watching all the people
Moving in and out

She just looked at me
With that expression
And then said
“That’s a whole lot of hyperbole
My bar is getting taxed to death
I can’t pay rent for my apartment
So I’m staying here now …
There’s something to write about.”
Then she stopped and shaking her head poured me a drink.
“Vodka make sure that’s vodka
I said pointing (she hates people pointing)
Don’t give me Rum like last time
I almost died …I could see the world just beginning
As I was falling out …I think that’s actually a quote…maybe?.”
I was only giving her a hard time

It’s vodka …she said dryly
Shooting it down the bar

I always admired her talent

“What’s really bothering you?”
I asked as seriously as I could

She just looked at me
So I went to the piano
And stopped
There
On the seat
Was a box
Macadamias …

Sara shouted from the bar
“Hey, Annabel came by
she had been baking…again.
She said you seemed upset
So she brought
Cookies!”

Annabel
Was great
The baker and holiday
Coordinator
A great find
To be in New York
Fortunate
To us
it’s where her degree
Brought her
And everybody loves
A city

I sat down at the piano
Shaking the rain out of my scarf
Watching the people outside
Shuffling in all their hurry
I began playing my favourite
melody for rain
Chopin’s
Prelude in E minor

Counting the colours of scarfs
And shoots of red hair
Poking out from hats
I wondered if anyone
Ever regretted moving here?
You can’t always go backwards
Even something like this
Can sometimes
Leave you isolated
I needed to start writing
I needed to do something
But instead
I stayed
And I played
Until my sleeves
We’re rolled to elbows
My jacket on the familiar floor
And I was on Prelude D flat
“Rain drop”
As the night shuffled in …
Down the alleys
And the corners
And the rain
Long had given over
To snow

Things Falling Apart (Karen part 3)

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Origin: Antoine Cordet – acrylic and marker on canvas

I’m walking a hallway
It’s polished tiles
Echoing
The air sanitized
Burning my nose
I’m looking for a number…

I don’t think anyone really remembers
The exact moment they went mad
They just wake up
Inside a nightmare
And they can’t make it stop
I think
time has a way
Of subtly changing things
On us and then suddenly
Everything is different

I wish I could tell you it was
Messy
But it wasn’t
It was only heartbreaking
And terrifying
mom
staring
Blankly
Acting hysterical
If you walked in
Like you were pulling her out of a deep sleep
That she didn’t realize
Was sleep at all

the house
At night grew worse
With the feeling that something
Was staring at you from across the room
shadows of figures
On the staircase
And in the hallway
The messages in her phone
Whenever she tried to leave
But the worst
The worst
Was
The sound of women screaming
Every night
At 3am

Moms new lover
We soon discovered
Died in 1992
After murdering his wife
And sister in law
And then hanging himself from the staircase

So here I am
I’m walking a hallway
looking for a number
242
I open the door
Mom is sitting at a window
Watching the ocean
Drawing her name
With her fingers
On the glass

end

Karen

part two of threeIMG_4865.JPG
Photo Origin Antoine Cordet – acrylic and marker on canvas

I woke up sometime
Late into the night
Around 3am
I couldn’t rest
This was a new place
It wasn’t even my childhood home
I could feel the house
I could hear it
I decided to explore it

I got up quietly
And walked the hallway stopping at
Ellen’s door,cracking it
I saw her sleeping peacefully
Her curtains moving against the air through the window
And there was
dad with his back to the door reading beside her bed
I guess he couldn’t sleep either
He looked over at me
His face strained and tired
But said nothing
Only tried to smile
I heard quiet laughter
From downstairs

I closed the door and made my way into the kitchen
Mom was sitting at the counter
With her phone
And laptop
Her messenger open

I grabbed some orange juice from the fridge,pouring a glass.went back up stairs.mom didn’t even see me.
Sitting at the bar, laughing like a teenager.

Sometime around 7 am
I got up
And waited for her to take her shower….
I checked her phone ….
Opened her laptop
Her messages were deleted
Same with the messenger….
“Shhhhit”
The shower cut off
I could hear the door opening
“What are you doing up here,dear?”
I stopped short at the door…
“My wifi connection went out
I just wanted to check yours”

“Hmm did you get it fixed?”

“Nah must be the router”
I stepped into the hall

“Did you remember to put your glass back in the kitchen?”

I stopped

I couldn’t breathe
Fuck it
“Mom are you having an affair?
You can tell me
I don’t care I just want to know”

She stood there drying her hair
Looking at me

“He makes me feel young
I’ve been so alone since the move
And empty
I feel…I feel like a younger woman.
I didn’t know I could feel
like this again.
You have to understand!
It’s like he’s this phantom
Of hope only mine
He’s there whenever I’m
Up he’s always there and
Your dad is …”
Her face went cold
“He’s always gone”

“He was here last night,mom.in this house.”

She looked confused
“No he wasn’t…
He’s in Seattle,dear.”

My phone started ringing
I looked at it
Dad-
My chest knotted up
I couldn’t breathe
“Hheh ..hey dad,”
“Hey I just wanted to apologize
For leaving
So quick…”
I could only feel my heart beat
Inside my chest and head
“I had to run to Seattle
On an executive meeting
How are things?”

I couldn’t see
Mom was fading in and out
Her phone rang

“Hey man,is everything ok?”

“Yeah,yeah it’s fine
Fine.sorry I’m just reading…something on line.ill see you when you get back,dad.”

I looked at my mom
Laughing into her phone
I started walking
Feeling the house close in
I started walking…

The Burning of The House Of Sylvia

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I like New York
I like the flow
This bar
I come here to relax with the piano
I come here to forget ….Sylvia.

Sylvia
A widow
Her husband died in the war
She never came out
She never came to town
Or to church
You could see her movement through the windows from time to time
a shadow
Fleeting

I was just starting in journalism
I wanted to be a success
And my first real chance came
When a story regarding Sylvia
And the loss of her husband landed on my desk

It required staying with Sylvia
For three weeks
Documenting her life
What she did
What she liked
Find out who she was
And if she was grieving

Her house
Was intimidating
more like a manor or hotel
dark
as if it held every
Demon haunted story
Branded by this city.

Inside wasn’t much better
Cold and consuming any light
Rather than being illuminated by my lamp.

I was startled by her ghostly movements
She never made a sound
Rather just floated from room to room
Dressed in black
Her red hair framing her face

The days passed
Without her sleeping
she sat around reading
Or in her window
Whispering to herself
Often going away into her room
For hours
Once I asked about her husband
all she said was
I’m too young and old for this I don’t know what to do

And then rose and left the room in her soft way of moving

I don’t know what it was
But on a particular rainy Sunday
Exploring the house and library
I noticed her bedroom door open
I couldn’t help looking around

It was dark
Consuming all my energy
Old photographs
And painting
covered the walls
And a desk at the window

this is my life do you know what you’ve been sent for?

I was startled turning around
I hadn’t noticed her in the room
But there she was
Standing in the corner
Filling the blackness
Her red hair almost like a fire
Framing her green eyes

I’m sorry I didn’t realize this was …I just..couldn’t help myself

you will find..there are darker rooms in the world then what you’ve seen here and darker evils than all mystery

Later I woke at the darkest hour of the night
There was faint singing
Like an echo
moving through the house
I looked out my window and saw her
Sitting in the garden playing a piano
I left that Monday

all I had was
A story
About a young woman
Racked with loneliness
Voices
And mystery

They published it like she was a witch
Condemning her property under
Eminent domain
She refused to leave
The banks came
And burned her out

I never saw her again
I remember seeing her face in the window
They never found her body
I personally like to think
She went back to her family
In London but I don’t know

Her property was ideal for a large bank…which ironically burned due to an electrical fire last Christmas

That’s my story

I came here to New York to get away
And write about new things
Real things
From time to time I’ll come in this bar
And find an old photograph of the city or of me playing
waiting on my piano
Sometimes I think I see her in a crowd
A flash of red hair …
But I never know for sure
I hope wherever she is
She found her center
I hope she found her light.

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