tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-132074612024-03-06T21:08:38.686-08:00Strange Tales from Deadwood HallWelcome to Deadwood Hall- Home of the Strange, Home of the Unique, Home of the Odd.
The doors are always open.
<IMG SRC="http://pic20.picturetrail.com/VOL1212/4509720/9507889/134847825.jpg" border="0" alt="Image Hosting by PictureTrail.com">Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-88501215617275838742008-10-27T08:26:00.000-07:002008-10-27T08:30:28.663-07:00Moved....<div align="center">Deadwood Hall has moved to</div><div align="center">Anita's Owl Creek Bridge.</div><div align="center">Visit me there for new stories and some awesome links.</div><div align="center"><a href="http://anita64.wordpress.com/">http://anita64.wordpress.com/</a></div><div align="center">a.m.</div>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-75909765984655602392007-11-04T13:15:00.000-08:002007-11-04T13:17:54.106-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwKyfMdvw23FdxlxyeUpAkRQbzlSwnARy5dTw9Wv5Z1vAT7gwa0z5ahAJVvgFID4frZtW5GqWeqZ4oGSHEgT81HIuQcefmzURdnLrESYZ7C35BisJcsiE99_ksX8edWk_PN-mfA/s1600-h/180px-Iron_Maiden_of_Nuremberg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwKyfMdvw23FdxlxyeUpAkRQbzlSwnARy5dTw9Wv5Z1vAT7gwa0z5ahAJVvgFID4frZtW5GqWeqZ4oGSHEgT81HIuQcefmzURdnLrESYZ7C35BisJcsiE99_ksX8edWk_PN-mfA/s320/180px-Iron_Maiden_of_Nuremberg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129097407479365746" /></a><br /><br />For More Strange Tales<br />visit<br /><br /><a href="http://anita64.wordpress.com/">Anita's Owl Creek Bridge</a><br /><br />It'll be a screamAnita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-63093091019709408412007-06-10T16:32:00.001-07:002007-06-10T16:44:31.133-07:00Tiny Tina Dahlby a.m. moscoso<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vacB7HkvIS7Kmbf3lHkhREPKo_aR1ysXvjyQTlaKcU6NDzka8_k0o6LIZZhev2lXaFEVadm2O4WxIPMeG70DyMifAgctux35XSXZFZXX9njhgcU_MErircnbViPcdqV_guac5A/s1600-h/glass_dress.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vacB7HkvIS7Kmbf3lHkhREPKo_aR1ysXvjyQTlaKcU6NDzka8_k0o6LIZZhev2lXaFEVadm2O4WxIPMeG70DyMifAgctux35XSXZFZXX9njhgcU_MErircnbViPcdqV_guac5A/s320/glass_dress.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074582762577165938" /></a><br /><br /><br />" My Ex-Wife took everything from me " Corrin Ails said to no one in particular as he waited in line for the doors to the Village Place Mall to open.<br /><br />"She took my home and my record collection and she even took my old photo album. <br /><br />All that I had in there were pictures of me with my pets and dressed up at Halloween and I think there was one of me a holding a Brady Bunch lunchbox when I was 9 . Oh, and there were about four pictures of me on my first bike.<br /><br />She told me I was an ugly kid. So what did she want with my childhood pictures?" <br /><br />The woman standing in front of Corrin turned around and told him " I cut my wedding dress up and used it to scrub the kitchen floor the day I found out my ex-husband was getting remarried. I made that dress. Then I mailed it to his new wife. She slapped me with a restraining order and now I have to take anger managment classes. People do weird things when the realize a relationship is truly over."<br /><br />" She burned that album on my front lawn " Corrin Ails went on "then the fire spread and burned my house down and she even killed me dog with rat poison. She used him to start the fire."<br /><br />" No way. " the man standing in back of Corrin said.<br /><br />" 'fraid so- three fire fighters died trying to put that thing out. "<br /><br />" I heard about that, " the woman said have they caught her yet? "<br /><br />" No. "<br /><br />" I'd like to catch her " the Man in front of Corrin said, " I'd like to catch her in the headlights of my car if you get what I mean."<br /><br />The Woman in front of Corrin said " she sounds like a bad woman."<br /><br />" Her family used to call her Tiny Tina Dahl...just like that. It was her nickname...and no one seemed to care that it sounded like some freaky Special Edition collector's toy you get for buying something really big and expensive. Tiny Tina Dahl...she's so sweet and great with poisons and fire. Get your free Tiny Tina Dahl with your next purchase."<br /><br />There was a chorus of snickers and Corrin went on. " Tiny Tina Dahl would take anything she could get her hands on...your house, your clothes, your money the Twinkies you keep hidden in your desk drawer at work for munchie attacks."<br /><br />" Wow, she wasn't bad she was just evil. " someone further down the line said.<br /><br />" Yeah " Corrin said " she was pretty good at taking things...she even stole my heart and she left me with nothing."<br /><br />" You seem like a nice enough guy " the Woman said " you'll find someone new. You certainly won't find anybody WORSE."<br /><br />Corrin reached for the top button on his shirt and said as faint as a dieing man's last breath, " You don't get it she stole my heart and left with me nothing "<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vacB7HkvIS7Kmbf3lHkhREPKo_aR1ysXvjyQTlaKcU6NDzka8_k0o6LIZZhev2lXaFEVadm2O4WxIPMeG70DyMifAgctux35XSXZFZXX9njhgcU_MErircnbViPcdqV_guac5A/s1600-h/glass_dress.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vacB7HkvIS7Kmbf3lHkhREPKo_aR1ysXvjyQTlaKcU6NDzka8_k0o6LIZZhev2lXaFEVadm2O4WxIPMeG70DyMifAgctux35XSXZFZXX9njhgcU_MErircnbViPcdqV_guac5A/s320/glass_dress.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074582762577165938" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-54721503699188774892007-06-10T16:29:00.000-07:002007-06-10T16:30:33.815-07:00In Memory Of A Practical Manby<br />a.m. moscoso<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9evnn4VLU-LWj9auBaHKN-dsqFq0xIQTTGKUu2xFfWMBIFH90HW8YaOzOEFOdXXzs2FkjIQDysIaiwFDb78nrXPdi5mDi_t2ibY0z8i6Mjv-y-9gWrmxqGVY-qG2ddlmXx_5/s1600-h/hearse2.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9evnn4VLU-LWj9auBaHKN-dsqFq0xIQTTGKUu2xFfWMBIFH90HW8YaOzOEFOdXXzs2FkjIQDysIaiwFDb78nrXPdi5mDi_t2ibY0z8i6Mjv-y-9gWrmxqGVY-qG2ddlmXx_5/s320/hearse2.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074581272223514210" /></a><br /><br /><br />Mattie Greaves sat across from Mr. Sawyer Day, the owner of a small and all but forgotten funeral home in Seattle, Washington and together they were quietly discussing a suitable coffin for Mattie's husband Tabor.<br /><br />" My husband is a practical man " Mattie told Mr. Day " and he wouldn't like anything with those fancy gold handles and he certainly wouldn't approve of things like this " Mattie was pointing at a catalog opened to a glossy page of coffins painted blue and gold and even black with ducks and eagles flying around their edges.<br /><br />" I understand " Mr. Day said " and I have several models for you to consider that are more traditional. I'm sure we can find one here that your husband would approve of. "<br /><br />Mr. Day is almost 65 and he had taken over Morning Ridge Funeral Home from his Mother's family right after he had turned 30. He had started working there right after he turned 16 so that means that for over 50 years Mr. Sawyer Day had heard and seen it all.<br /><br />So when Mattie Greaves asked if the traditional model she was looking at came with a comfortable pillow Mr. Day didn't even look up. " From what I understand it does, however in the past some of our families have brought in their own blankets and pillows. "<br /><br />" My husband is very fond of candy as well. " Mattie whispered. " Now his doctor told him he needs to give up sweets but you know, he's along in years and he's been through so much. I ask you Mr. Day how could I take away his salt water taffy?"<br /><br />" My Mother was the same way, she was fond of her Cuban Cigars. Not only did she refuse to give them up we could never figure out how she got her hands on them to begin with. In the end, we just let it go."<br /><br />" So of course I can..."<br /><br />" Of course you can Mrs. Greaves, whatever you think would have made your husband happy."<br /><br />After going through a few more books Mattie decided on a solid oak model with bronze handles and a lovely cream colored liner. She passed on the flowers.<br /><br />" He's allergic " she told Mr. Day.<br /><br />Mr. Day and Mattie went through numbers and she was about to pull out her check book when Mr. Day said, " We're almost finished Mrs. Greaves all we have to do is discuss your choice of a grave liners..<br /><br />Mattie dropped her checkbook on the table and looked at Mr. Day for almost two minutes before her face turned a little red and tears welled up in her eyes., " Oh my, that sounds so final."<br /><br />" Mrs. Greaves, I'm very sorry. I don't mean to rush you. If you need more time to go over..."<br /><br />" No Mr Day...you've been very kind and patient with me. It's my fault. I'm the one who has been doing the rushing. I should have explained...my husband just needs a coffin until the one he normally uses arrives from back home."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9evnn4VLU-LWj9auBaHKN-dsqFq0xIQTTGKUu2xFfWMBIFH90HW8YaOzOEFOdXXzs2FkjIQDysIaiwFDb78nrXPdi5mDi_t2ibY0z8i6Mjv-y-9gWrmxqGVY-qG2ddlmXx_5/s1600-h/hearse2.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9evnn4VLU-LWj9auBaHKN-dsqFq0xIQTTGKUu2xFfWMBIFH90HW8YaOzOEFOdXXzs2FkjIQDysIaiwFDb78nrXPdi5mDi_t2ibY0z8i6Mjv-y-9gWrmxqGVY-qG2ddlmXx_5/s320/hearse2.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074581272223514210" /></a><br /><br />Inspired by the Soul Food Cafe Prompt<br /><br /><a href="http://www.outbackonline.net/Alluvial_Mining/Mine_Main_MemoryStream.htm">Memory's Molten Stream</a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-78454867893929996372007-06-02T12:05:00.000-07:002007-06-02T12:09:17.150-07:00Corners<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkD3g3yWCBlGoVmyU2r6ezbavSOilIQ8to7pttZklPVeBf1QgIuSUMfkr0Pferlk1wUc-YVVHtKCVIF3J-f3SLtsZXfEmbQmXWx52fp0g6oyJm3Ay1ZoBmU9b-4mo55tu9dbmcjg/s1600-h/bridge-sepia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkD3g3yWCBlGoVmyU2r6ezbavSOilIQ8to7pttZklPVeBf1QgIuSUMfkr0Pferlk1wUc-YVVHtKCVIF3J-f3SLtsZXfEmbQmXWx52fp0g6oyJm3Ay1ZoBmU9b-4mo55tu9dbmcjg/s320/bridge-sepia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071545412901881826" /></a><br /> <br /><br />Blaze Godfredo lives out on Old Creek Road- most of the Godfredo Family have lived out on Old Creek Road long before Washington became a state and if you want to hear any stories about the infamous ghost town called Fallen you can ask Blaze.<br /><br />His Great Grandmother, Tanis Blaze won the town in a card game back in the 1920's but that's another story.<br /><br />So when he was a kid Blaze used to play on the grounds of an abandoned insane asylum haunted by the Black Monk of Fallen and to add along with that interesting bit of family history you might be interested to learn that Blaze's Great Great Grandmother had the dubious honor of being the one and only woman on the West Coast too be hung for Witchcraft.<br /><br />" That's a rotten shame Blaze " some people would say when he would tell that story.<br /><br />" Oh heck, what can I say? It was true..Bartsia wasn't one of those poor creatures that they burned at the stake on trumped up charges....no Sir. Bartsia was an honest to goodn-well, Bartsia was the real thing. She was a fire and brimstone demon conjuring type of gal and she'd just as soon cut your heart out and feed it to her cat as look at you."<br /><br />Old Creek Road was where they hung Bartsia from the infamous Devil's Tree. The tree is where Bartsia was supposed to have done her deals with the Devil herself<br /><br />The people of Fallen hung her there ....twice.<br /><br />In order to rid themselves Bartsia some of the people who lived in Fallen had to do some deals themselves at that tree and it was about another 100 years before they got that mess with Bartsia worked out.<br /><br />Afterwords Fallen was a ghost town and no one in Snohomish County will go near it let alone admit it's still up there.<br /><br />Of course you can find it if you want.<br /><br />There's this town called Cascade Ridge that you have to drive through to get to Fallen and that's where Blaze lives out on Old Creek Road where he runs his business right out of his home.<br /><br />Whenever someone in Cascade sees cars pull up to Blaze's house where a sign says, " Blaze Godfredo's Haunted Washington Tours " they just stand there and cry and wonder how much longer that old man is going to live for.<br /><br />That's how Blaze makes a living and no one has ever considered telling him to stop the flood of people in black clothes and show up in droves during Halloween. On a practical note it goes without saying that no one really wants to mess with a man who has a genuine Witch buried out on his property<br /><br />Anway, that's what Blaze does.<br /><br />He takes little groups of people up to Fallen and to Old Creek who are ghost hunters and people who fancy themselves to be Vampires and Witches and he tells them all about Fallen.<br /><br />Some of them just get angry at his stories and the rest just get scared but nobody walks away feeling like they'd been had.<br /><br />One year this writer from Seattle took the tour and as Blaze walked her back to her car she stopped and asked, " You know Blaze, these stories of yours are top drawer- but I'm curious. All these stories about The Creek, they're about other people. You've lived out here your entire life and except for that trip to Hawaii you told us about on the way up to Fallen it doesn't sound like you've been much more the 100 miles away from here. You must have seen or been through something yourself. Come on Blaze, where do you fit into this story? "<br /><br />Blaze shrugged, " Well, it's my family's history you know and I'm not the adventurous type and on the whole I'd have to say my uneventful life would affirm that sad fact."<br /><br />" Yeah, sure Blaze...come one what's your story? "<br /><br />Blaze held his arm out and the writer, a woman named Honor took it and they walked up to Blaze's porch and he told her about what happened to him 40 years ago out on Old Creek Road.<br /><br />" No doubt about it, my family has a dark history- and the one thing I know about darkness, it creeps from the corners. Think about it there, nothing bothers people more then the things they see from the corners of their eyes. It's because the things you see there have creeped up on you.<br /><br />And then they either creep away or just disapear and then you get that trickle of sweat running down your spine...You know what mean don't you."<br /><br />Honor nodded.<br /><br />" Back in the 1960's there wasn't any lights out on the highway that hooks Old Creek up to Snohomish County and the rest of the world. But that didn't stop people from driving their cars like the Devil was chasing them...well, you know sometimes....but for the most part people were just careless and stupid or drunk and stupid and they'd miss the road that leads to bridge over the Creek and they would end up smashed to pieces in the ravine."<br /><br />"So one winter we hear about this car full of college kids that disapeared on their way back from Seattle- they were headed up to Everett and they never made it."<br /><br />" Well that year my wife gets it in her head that she wants a fresh cut tree for Christmas and I'm the good guy right? I actually do it, I take an ax out into 30 degrees of ice and snow and go and cut her a tree. But that wasn't so much to do for a woman who was willing to live out here just to be with me. She was a good Gal " Blaze said with a smile " Really Good...and kind. Anyway I go out and find her a nice blue spruce and I'm on my way home when just before I get to the bridge I hit a dog and it bounces off my hood and takes a dive right over the bridge into the ravine."<br /><br />" Wouldn't you kno it? Just as I get out of my car that dog comes flying up the bank and with a busted leg it's got it's tail between it's legs and Honor...that dog is screaming, not howling- it's screaming. "<br /><br />" So I go over to the railing and look down and I see this black patch- it's perfectly square and black and I realize what I'm looking at his the undercarriage of a car and I figure out the screaming I'm hearing didn't come from the dog- it was coming from the car."<br /><br />" I slide and crawl down into that Ravine the best I can and just as I come up on the car I start seeing what look like body parts scattered all of the place and I figure the animals have been visiting the car for a snack or two and then I see this hand come from the window on the passenger side and I'm about to pass out when I hear someone say, " please get me out they're getting closer....please get me out."<br /><br />" Sure enough there was a lady still alive in that car and I figure she'd been down there for almost four days with those dead bodies."<br /><br />" God " Honor whispered.<br /><br />Blaze looked up from his memories and the look on his face was confused. " Oh no, no, no God was down in that Ravine, wasn't nothing down in there but death and if you know Death you know how it doesn't like to share space with anybody or anything...."<br /><br />Honor shrugged. " I'll give you that. "<br /><br />" Anyway, I reach down and grab the hand and that woman just slides out on a trail of blood and ice and I'm pretty sure she cut herself up pretty good when she came out. But before I could help her up she turned over and got up on her knees and was holding herself up with one arm and she was holding her other arm to her chest. Then she jumps up grabs my hand and says, " come on, we have to get out of here. I can hear them....let's go!"<br /><br />" Who? " I ask her " who is coming? "<br /><br />" Those animals!" she screams at me and then she starts running and she was one sure footed Gal because she didn't slide or slow down as she drags me all the way up the bank to the road.<br /><br />When we get up to the road we both look down into the Ravine and I can hear something all right. I can see something too. Only it wasn't animals, it was little lights and and the sounds were voices and they were saying something about "picking up tracks here..."<br /><br />That's when I can see, right there out of the corner of my eye that woman spit something out onto the snow and what lands there are four little red and white lumps and I know those things are teeth.<br /><br />Then she looks down at her hands and I hear her whistle and say something like, " I guess I won't be playing the piano for awhile."<br /><br />After she gets done talking I see her from the corner of my eye pull a long blond hair from the corner of her mouth and no it wasn't her's because the woman standing next to me had long black hair. It was so black it almost looked blue.<br /><br />It was just seconds later that she walks away down that road like she wasn't cut up and bleeding and hurt- I'm not sure but I think she may have been whistling.<br /><br />Well, a few minutes later a bunch of people come up over the bank and they've got dogs and guns.<br /><br />" Hey there " says this man " are you alright?"<br /><br />" Course. What's up? " I asked.<br /><br />" There's a wolf on the loose, it tore apart a bunch of dogs and horses and even a cow at on Maltby a few days ago and we tracked it out here- looks like it was spending some time down in that car. I'm not sure but it looks like it went through the windshield and got itself stuck. Then it got itself unstuck."<br /><br />" How? " I ask.<br /><br />One of the men drops something at my feet and there it was...this wolf's paw with fur so black it shined blue.<br /><br /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-utbMHRBAmuCuMXYA-az0Nc-_Bv-ywo9vsgx4qD68fuFmK-B5yIfAy4hhLKbBPzxaghVxa3JZzRZ94Im5yLA4s1SsyeQQWq3xSxvC2JeDa2dHT6uWBbEsqF-5EB_JywTCL-66A/s1600-h/dw-stone-bridge_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-utbMHRBAmuCuMXYA-az0Nc-_Bv-ywo9vsgx4qD68fuFmK-B5yIfAy4hhLKbBPzxaghVxa3JZzRZ94Im5yLA4s1SsyeQQWq3xSxvC2JeDa2dHT6uWBbEsqF-5EB_JywTCL-66A/s320/dw-stone-bridge_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071545743614363634" /></a><br /><br />" I don't know who that woman was or where she went - but she should be easy to spot . After all, she only has one hand."<br /><br />Honor sat back and smiled, " that was a good one Blaze...you really should- " and then Honor's smile sort of froze and faded and she turned her head a little and she said to Blaze " I thought I saw something from the corner of my eye...sorry where was I?"<br /><br />Inspired by the Soul Food Cafe Story Starter:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.dailywriting.net/Werewolves.htm">Werewolf Project</a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-58972192347246979682007-05-02T21:00:00.000-07:002007-05-02T21:04:10.889-07:00Devil's Luck<em><strong>by anita marie moscoso</strong></em><br /><br />based on the Soul Food Cafe Story Prompt<br /><br />T is For Transformative<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijh9jMcXRr3HEbIu6kUS1JxRvx1ggyPJuUnU3t2dPhIocbuLKt7IbKrBN_JLh3emEWlHBliwHE9d17CPAMGRr_NVexj2ffjvGLeFb5EVDwwuxBxmkDuAMg_dNYUhA3AtGK3b0qg/s1600-h/red1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijh9jMcXRr3HEbIu6kUS1JxRvx1ggyPJuUnU3t2dPhIocbuLKt7IbKrBN_JLh3emEWlHBliwHE9d17CPAMGRr_NVexj2ffjvGLeFb5EVDwwuxBxmkDuAMg_dNYUhA3AtGK3b0qg/s320/red1-3.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060179928180515234" /></a><br /><br />Did you ever have one of those days when everything went wrong?<br /><br />Maybe you knew it was going to be bad when your alarm went off 20 minutes too early and to make it worse it was one of those nights where you woke up every half hour and when you got out of bed you knew, you could feel it was going to get much worse.<br /><br />Veta Trella had a night like that.<br /><br />After she got out of bed she went to take a shower and as she stepped into her tub she slipped but was lucky enough to break her fall with her knees.<br /><br />That was okay because Veta wasn't the kind of person anyone paid attention to so if she had to limp and shuffle no one was going to notice.<br /><br />That was the only lucky break Veta had for the rest of the day.<br /><br />When Veta dried her hair she was distracted by the sizzling sound the wires made everytime she turned her wrist and just before her hair was completely dry some blue sparks flew out of the wall and all of the lights in Veta's house went out and stayed out. <br /><br />She guessed all of those black scorch marks all over her walls by the electrical outlets she saw on the way to her basement to check her fuse box was not a good sign.<br /><br />When Veta finally made it out thedoor she looked down in time to see her that not only were her shoes not tied, they were different colors and just as she turned to go back into her house the door swung shut and she knew that not only was the door locked she had never taken her keys out of the candy bowl she kept them in.<br /><br />But none of that mattered for very long because as she took a step she tripped on her laces and went face first into the door.<br /><br />It was only a matter of seconds- not minutes before her nose started to swell and she could feel her lips start to go numb. She poked at her face and sighed and then Veta walked around to her back yard.<br /><br />She walked slowly up the steps to her back porch and when she reached down to pick up a little clay flowerpot to break the little glass window in center of the porch door she felt her fingernail peel back and then it came off with a sting.<br /><br />She held her hand up, looked at raw finger tip and sighed.<br /><br />Veta made it through her kitchen safe enough but when she got to the living room she scared her cat Blitzer right off of the couch he knew wasn't suppose to be on.<br /><br />Veta didn't have the heart or energy to yell at him because she shouldn't have had to break into her own house and put herself in the position to scare her black cat into running straight across her path.<br /><br />In fact, he was so startled by her that he jumped straight up onto the mantle piece above the fireplace and sent Veta's antique mirror crashing to the floor where it didn't just break.<br /><br />It smashed into millions of little shards and a cloud of dust and glass wafted up and into Veta's face- Veta's bruised and swollen face that was now in the process of working it's way into a full fledged allergy attack.<br /><br />" Oh, why the Hell not " Veta said and then she sneezed and her nose started to bleed- all over her brand new white blouse.<br /><br />When Veta made it to her bus- well it wasn't her usual bus because she missed her regular bus- she almost tripped over a woman who had suddenly stopped to pick something up off of the ground and that sent Veta and her things flying in about four different directions.<br /><br />Veta sort of shuffled and cringed all the way to the back of the bus and when she sat down it was on something wet and sticky and she closed her eyes and when she opened them she looked up and then down and then from her left to her right and then slowly behind her. When she was done she slouched down and held her belongings to her chest and tried to make herself breathe.<br /><br /> She thought if she concentrated on doing just that she wouldn't start screaming.<br /><br />Then the woman Veta had tripped over took the seat right in front of her and she was jabbering and laughing and chatting away to the very good-looking man next to her.<br /><br />" Can you believe it? " she sang, " first I find a hundred dollar bill right there on the curb on the very morning I'm thinking I'm going to for sure miss my bus and then..." she leaned towards her seat mate and nudged him with her shoulder " you ask me out and look! "<br /><br /> She was holding her phone up and the man read the text message and he congratulated the woman on her promotion and then he moved a little closer to her and put his arm over the back of her seat.<br /><br />" I mean, I don't know where all of this is coming from. I've never had luck like this before!"<br /><br />" My Grandma would have said you have the luck of the Devil " he told the woman happily.<br /><br />And then Veta reached over she tapped them each on the shoulder. <br /><br />When they turned around they were looking straight into Veta's bright yellow eyes which were ringed with bruises and they saw the little white horns she normally hid under her blow dried hair and then her forked tongue shot from under her broken nose and swollen lips and she hissed " your Grandma is liar."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGt6tYawve1GScOsL7G2N9_YfL8zgpsbIpY6invNVY803LHW2JzrqrItQl5qrhz3-31GLJwhdEICrhZ7nEQ7Hpl72BnX-F40YMfWwyZFVDaajZ8JjXDxC5kS_3kPV9QJfQWP0xyg/s1600-h/cats1-6.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGt6tYawve1GScOsL7G2N9_YfL8zgpsbIpY6invNVY803LHW2JzrqrItQl5qrhz3-31GLJwhdEICrhZ7nEQ7Hpl72BnX-F40YMfWwyZFVDaajZ8JjXDxC5kS_3kPV9QJfQWP0xyg/s320/cats1-6.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060180142928880050" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-48525680035931682802007-04-18T10:43:00.000-07:002007-04-18T10:44:06.907-07:00Has The Cat Got Your Tongue?<em><strong>by anita marie moscoso </strong></em><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s1600-h/butterfly_girl.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s320/butterfly_girl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052345519737380802" /></a><br /><br />Daisy Cutting was not normal- her parents knew it, her brothers and sisters knew it and her dog knew it too.<br /><br />That's why Tarzan lived under the porch instead of above it and if they could have the rest of Daisy Cutting's family would have followed Tarzan under the porch too- but there wasn't enough room for all of them.<br /><br />So the rest of the family was forced to deal with their world with Daisy in it in their own way. The Cutting Family learned to be invisible- which was easy when all anyone really noticed was Daisy.<br /><br />She was very hard to ignore no matter how hard you tried.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s1600-h/butterfly_girl.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s320/butterfly_girl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052345519737380802" /></a><br /><br />On the day her parents found out they were expecting a baby their house burned down, on the day Daisy was born the sky above the hospital turned black.<br /><br />Not from thunderclouds- from birds.<br /><br />The noise they made was deafening and the smell was bad and then while they were in mid-flight they died and fell with soft wet thuds for miles around.<br /><br />Mrs Cutting saw the rain of dead birds from her hospital window and she raised her baby to her lips and whispered into Daisy's ear, "what have you done Daisy? "<br /><br />Of course Daisy couldn't answer because she wasn't even an hour old but she did laugh and that's when Mrs. Cutting saw Daisy already had teeth.<br /><br />" Well, " Mrs. Cutting said " at least you don't have horns too."<br /><br />Then Daisy laughed some more.<br /><br />The funny thing about Daisy is that she never really laughed again after that day- she just smiled.<br /><br />A lot.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s1600-h/butterfly_girl.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s320/butterfly_girl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052345519737380802" /></a><br /><br />Daisy Cutting had a normal life- she had her own room, she had her own toys and she got two full grown black cats from her family on her 12th birthday.<br /><br />Her cats, Potato and Chips didn't hide under the porch when they saw her. Everyone including Daisy figured they hung around just to see what sort of odd thing she would come up with next but that was in the nature of cats and the Cutting Family understood that.<br /><br />That's why they got them for her.<br /><br />So at least now Daisy had a couple of friends- which is what her family wanted. Daisy, if they had asked, would have told them she busy for a social life because Daisy was always busy working on her collections.<br /><br />-like her Bug Collection.<br /><br />To be specific Daisy had a Bug Zoo in her bedroom.<br /><br />Her bugs were in jars and plastic containers and in front of each little cage was a card with their proper scientific names and dietary habits.<br /><br />Daisy also collected yo-yos that she displayed on her bookshelf and under her bed was Daisy's Grave Collection- it wasn't as organized as her bug zoo or her yo-yo collection.<br /><br />Daisy collected those little candy boxes- the ones that 6 different pieces of chocolate come in. She'd buy a box or two a month, toss the pieces to Tarzan under the porch ( he buried them ) and then she'd take the empty boxes to her bedroom.<br /><br />What Daisy liked about the boxes were the little pictures of smiling cherubs on the lids.<br /><br /> It worked for what Daisy put in them.<br /><br />At least once a month Daisy took the bus to Morning Ridge Cemetery in Duwamish Bay and she'd go from grave to grave snapping petals and leaves from the Grave Flowers.<br /><br />She always did it in a way that didn't disturb the arrangements- then she'd take the flowers home, dry them and put them in the little boxes.<br /><br />Each box was numbered- Daisy had a map of the cemetery in her desk and when she got home she took the numbers and not the names from the Cemetery Map and copied them onto the inside lid of the boxes.<br /><br />Daisy's room was full of her collections.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s1600-h/butterfly_girl.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEscjwybqlb7udhz4y2EBQIhWGxGqY7GSShkFBpIMsPCyZd_uIjUcRrofFm8xt8mNu_21SJBow5x4Yu_y_eJX6f2Sf62xFgREjdcf_GEGG7emJ4m0wp0LUkNz9kuogrpv72ng/s320/butterfly_girl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052345519737380802" /></a><br /><br />One Summer Mrs Cutting was in her kitchen reading the paper and drinking some juice when she looked down into her glass and saw two flies drowning in her lemonade<br /><br />She took a deep breath because she was about to yell for Daisy- and how fair was that? There were two black blowflies in her juice and the first words out of Mrs. Cutting's mouth weren't going to be "yuck".<br /><br />She was about to scream, " Daisy!"<br /><br />Instead she took the glass outside and threw the entire mess into the garbage can.<br /><br />The next day Mrs Cutting found four blowflies in the refrigerator, two in the toilet and instead of yelling " Daisy" she went to the store and bought some No Pest Traps.<br /><br />It didn't work.<br /><br />In fact, it got worse.<br /><br />Much worse.<br /><br />By the third day there was family meeting in the Cutting home that didn't include Daisy or her cats but did include Tarzan the Dog.<br /><br />The result of that meeting was Mrs Cutting was sent up to Daisy's room to see if the newest members of the Cutting Family had something to do with Daisy's Collections.<br /><br />Mrs Cutting took a deep breath and before she knocked she her her daughter-sounding flustered and a little angry- which was something Daisy never did. Daisy never got rattled- so Instead of knocking she put her ear to the door.<br /><br />" Hey you guys...give those back this minute...I've got you ...let go of that Potato! Chips you're next hand it over....come out from under there you two- I mean it.<br /><br />You guys are in so much trouble"<br /><br />Mrs. Cutting looked back down the hall and almost called for somebody- anybody to go with her into Daisy's room.<br /><br />But this was her daughter- and Mrs Cutting wasn't about to forget that. To be honest, Daisy wasn't the type of person you could forget even if you wanted to.<br /><br />So Mrs Cutting took a deep breath and knocked on Daisy's door.<br /><br />From inside of the room came a meow, a couple of hisses and a lot of growling and then she heard a door slam.<br /><br />Daisy called, " come on in Mom."<br /><br />Daisy's room didn't have a few flies buzzing around the way they were in the rest of the house.<br /><br />There were hundreds of them and when one landed on Daisy's face and crawled around and flew off without Daisy flinching even once or trying to brush it away Mrs Cutting lost her temper.<br /><br />" Flies Daisy? You're collecting flies now? That's...that's... Daisy that's not interesting, that's just stupid. What were you thinking? Look at your room...look at the rest of the house. Young lady you are in so much trouble!"<br /><br />Daisy was standing next to her closet door and from the inside Potato and Chips had started to shove their paws out from under the door and were trying to pull it open.<br /><br />" Let them out Daisy...and answer me, what were you thinking?"<br /><br />Daisy bit her lip and shrugged.<br /><br />" What were you thinking Daisy? Answer me or did your cats get your tongue?<br /><br />" No Mommy, " Daisy said " they don't have my tongue..."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwG1Gy7yZH5cfzCHyWh15mt1MtGjCFEvi6CMVyy1yqFpyER-3mblyHjUwPNo9K3PJtnFmzCQPtxksy2Pk6Nd0zhTCoMfl_21F8RpBlLKJLpgjmc7AadrOiMNbiGq6oSfSGtKP/s1600-h/997677-108.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwG1Gy7yZH5cfzCHyWh15mt1MtGjCFEvi6CMVyy1yqFpyER-3mblyHjUwPNo9K3PJtnFmzCQPtxksy2Pk6Nd0zhTCoMfl_21F8RpBlLKJLpgjmc7AadrOiMNbiGq6oSfSGtKP/s320/997677-108.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052345992183783378" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-88378940660824904552007-03-28T17:28:00.001-07:002007-03-28T17:28:53.346-07:00It's All In The Cardsby Anita Marie Moscoso<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ui8uG_caTVglXRbLhTszSaftUE0f-eFtzGX6eMLA2em8HOu_3zfKYsFHA-XLt_3iHL5SA-tYevUjqAxisPoF8DQdXqt7iiWhbSl73MUvIHoei004hCrxe_jMoA4j5f7P6SuT/s1600-h/vie12perfumelabel1.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ui8uG_caTVglXRbLhTszSaftUE0f-eFtzGX6eMLA2em8HOu_3zfKYsFHA-XLt_3iHL5SA-tYevUjqAxisPoF8DQdXqt7iiWhbSl73MUvIHoei004hCrxe_jMoA4j5f7P6SuT/s320/vie12perfumelabel1.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047136274634293954" /></a><br /><br /><br />Idell Galina tells fortunes and casts spells from her little store on Eastlake Road.<br /><br />Of Course Idell can't really see into the the future and she can't really cast spells but she can tell a good story and she's got a very winning smile and looks good in velvet so none of that really mattered.<br /><br />Until the night Denae Colquite came in and asked for a Reading- then what Idell could or could not do mattered very much.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ui8uG_caTVglXRbLhTszSaftUE0f-eFtzGX6eMLA2em8HOu_3zfKYsFHA-XLt_3iHL5SA-tYevUjqAxisPoF8DQdXqt7iiWhbSl73MUvIHoei004hCrxe_jMoA4j5f7P6SuT/s1600-h/vie12perfumelabel1.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ui8uG_caTVglXRbLhTszSaftUE0f-eFtzGX6eMLA2em8HOu_3zfKYsFHA-XLt_3iHL5SA-tYevUjqAxisPoF8DQdXqt7iiWhbSl73MUvIHoei004hCrxe_jMoA4j5f7P6SuT/s320/vie12perfumelabel1.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047136274634293954" /></a><br /><br />Denae Colquite took a seat on the little wooden chair Idell offered her and she kept her purse in her lap. She even kept her jacket on, refusing to take it off when Idell asked for it. " I know this is all- um, subjective. But I'm at a loss Miss-"<br /><br />" Madam Galina " Idell extended a long hand over the crystal ball that sat on the table between them.<br /><br />Denae looked down at Idell's left hand and then she looked back up and said, " Miss Galina. "<br /><br />Idell shrugged pulled her hand back and slumped a little into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest and the air sucked out of her lungs. " What exactly can I help you with ..."<br /><br />" Denae my name is Denae Colquite and I'll get right down to it Idell- I need to know if one can escape their fate."<br /><br />Idell felt her Sea Legs come back, and she said " Our fates are..."<br /><br />" Yes, yes, yes, written on the sands or wind or something like that but Miss Galina the upshot is my fate is about to ruin my life and I'd like to escape that. So, can you help me or not."<br /><br />It wasn't a question and it wasn't a demand but Denae expected an answer all the same.<br /><br />And it was obvious she wanted it now.<br /><br />So Idell reached over to the counter to her left for a candlestick and she placed it next to the crystal ball and struck a match. Then she looked down into the reflection cast by the small yellow flame and as she did Denae put her forehead on the table's rounded edge and started to bang it up and down.<br /><br /> " Yes or no Madame Galina can you change a fate that's been cast. Do you really need to look into the future to answer that question? Because if you're that unsure of your present I don't see how you can help me with the future."<br /><br />Without raising her head from the table Denae reached into her handbag pulled out a small box of playing cards and dropped it on the table.<br /><br />" Here, it's all in here. My Grandmother did a reading for me 10 years ago when I got married. It's all there, in those cards. I need to know if I can escape it."<br /><br />Idell smirked a little and wiped it off her face as Denae looked up. " Our futures, our destiny are constantly being rewritten, I see images, impression of things that could be. That's what I can offer you in the way of help and guidance."<br /><br />Denae dropped her head back onto the table and mumbled, " Well, damn. It's starting to look like there is no way around this. No way at all. I mean the one person who can really pull this gig off was like a thousand percent right. You know, she was the real thing.I've been to hundreds of you people for the past ten years and all you guys have been less then...er talented then she was. Everyone said Grand was one in a million. I guess that was just the simple truth. She was one in a million."<br /><br />Denae got up and sighed " How much."<br /><br />" An offering of 20.00 is appreciated."<br /><br />Denae got up and and put her jacket on. Then she opened her purse and dropped the offering on the table.<br /><br />" Oh your..." Idell picked the box up.<br /><br />" Cards- you can keep them I don't need them anymore. I know what they say. They've been saying the same thing for 10 years now."<br /><br />And then as Denae walked towards the door the little flap on the bottom of the box slid open and the cards spilled out onto the table and the floor at Idell's feet.<br /><br />Idell reached down and picked up one of the cards. She could see they were ordinary playing cards with something written in spidery red script across their faces.<br /><br />She held the card up to the light and she could see written in old fashioned script, " My Granddaughter is going to kill you, run Miss Galina "<br /><br />Idell looked up in time to see Denae throw the deadbolt on the door. " Don't bother, I told you...it's all in the cards."<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ui8uG_caTVglXRbLhTszSaftUE0f-eFtzGX6eMLA2em8HOu_3zfKYsFHA-XLt_3iHL5SA-tYevUjqAxisPoF8DQdXqt7iiWhbSl73MUvIHoei004hCrxe_jMoA4j5f7P6SuT/s1600-h/vie12perfumelabel1.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ui8uG_caTVglXRbLhTszSaftUE0f-eFtzGX6eMLA2em8HOu_3zfKYsFHA-XLt_3iHL5SA-tYevUjqAxisPoF8DQdXqt7iiWhbSl73MUvIHoei004hCrxe_jMoA4j5f7P6SuT/s320/vie12perfumelabel1.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047136274634293954" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1168440690012162482007-01-10T06:51:00.000-08:002007-01-10T06:51:30.036-08:00Eye of the Beholderby Anita Marie Moscoso<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/991274/eyes1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/677610/eyes1-3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Abney Hawkweed taught music for 25 years in the Caswell School District and those were the best years of her life.<br /><br />Not that she liked teaching; in fact Abney didn't even like kids.<br /><br />But the hours were good, she got the Summers off and at the end of the day not many people go out of their way to pay attention to plain looking women with wire rimmed glasses who know how to play the violin and trumpet and the saxophone.<br /><br />Which suited Miss Abney Hawkweed just fine.<br /><br />In the old days, after school was over and Abney was on her way home she used to roll the windows of her fuel-efficient little car down and she use to turn the radio off just so she could hear the honking horns and screeching tires. Sometimes she even got an earful and eyeful of some road raging driver screaming their lungs out and waving their fingers around in nasty gestures.<br /><br />People were great and when they were driving and when they were ugly they were even better to watch.<br /><br />Just for the fun of it Abney would go out of her way on certain days just so that she could drive passed the Great Mall of Felton Hills.<br /><br />She just loved to watch people dodge buses and trucks and cars and then no matter how many cars were behind her honking their horns she'd drive slow just so she could see the same people sprint, jog or run across the parking lots with baby strollers and shopping carts- all so that they could get into the shops and the food court and consume anything they could lay their hands on.<br /><br />It all seemed so trivial and innocent and final.<br /><br />There was no mystery to life in the suburbs.<br /><br />You worked, you shopped, you watched TV and then you got to die.<br /><br />Some people, Abney thought, don’t know how good they have it and that's a fact.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/991274/eyes1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/677610/eyes1-3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Abney's day job paid the rent; what she did at night was who Abney Hawkweed was. She could always find another day job, but there was only one Abney and when the Sunset came she couldn't be anything else.<br /><br />So just after dinner she would gather her tools into a little black leather medical bag- the one she inherited from her Grandfather and she turn the little gold clasps counter clockwise to lock it.<br /><br />Then for luck, just like Grandpa taught her, she would touch the little brass plate that said, " Post Mortem Case " three times.<br /><br />The luck thing was important because she usually needed it.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/991274/eyes1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/677610/eyes1-3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Like with most family businesses you could either take up the reigns and do the family proud or you could skate by and make them wish they could at least say you were adopted or 'from the other side of the family'.<br /><br />The worst you could be neither, the worst thing you could be is mediocre.<br /><br />And know it.<br /><br />Abney figured she could get the job done- and that phrase pretty much summed up Abney's job performance. She wasn't as glamorous and thin and blond as her cousin Inez and she wasn't as smart or athletic as her Father Dr Setwell Hawkweed had been.<br /><br />They were impressive figures at work and well respected.<br /><br />No doubt, Abney could dig up a coffin, pop it open and hammer a stake into the bloated red face of a vampire before it could open it's mouth and spit blood all over her face-which is what they did when they were about to attack.<br /><br />If they got you it was bad news because that mess could make you blind.<br /><br />That's how they brought you down.<br /><br />Anyway...<br /><br />The problem was it was just plain old Abney Hawkweed in some old decrepit church or over grown cemetery carrying on the family trade.<br /><br />There was no sense of style about how Abney did her work so she did it quietly and efficiently as possible and then she'd go home feed her cat, listen to a little Mozart and then she'd turn in for what was left of the evening.<br /><br />She did that for 25 years and she never complained.<br /><br />She didn't even complain when she had to go into a house on Halloween (of all nights) and take out a family of Vampires who had been sleeping in their basement and then had taken to hanging from the rafters like water logged Piñatas-dripping blood and purge from their hardly working bowels onto the floor.<br /><br />All Abney figured when she slipped in the gunk and broke her wrist was that they had done that on purpose.<br /><br />It wasn't like the books and comics and video games you know.<br /><br />Abney learned the hard way that oxygen deprivation at death and then waking up to find you had been turned into a mosquito was enough to make anyone crazy.<br /><br />Very Crazy.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/991274/eyes1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/677610/eyes1-3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />On the day Abney retired- both from the Day Job and the Family Trade, her work friends had taken her out for lunch and given her some neat gifts and they had promised to keep in touch.<br /><br />She doubted they would.<br /><br />And of course they didn't.<br /><br />Her family same to celebrate her retirement and of course they promised to stay in touch too- and Abney figured they'd make good on that and of course they did.<br /><br />Especially when they needed a night off.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/991274/eyes1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/677610/eyes1-3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />As time went by Abney started to play the Violin again for the simple pleasure of it. She never got calls to lend a hand at this Graveyard or that Morgue because the Vampire Problem was a Problem Solved and Abney decided to take up the guitar.<br /><br />It was at Inez's birthday part last winter that Inez had told Abney, " You know in the old days we could never have all gotten together like this. It'd have been too dangerous. I mean, a couple of nutty blood suckers and a can of gasoline and before you know it we're crispy critters and people are dropping like flies from ' the plague' again."<br /><br />" You had a lot to do with that Abney. Thank you."<br /><br />And Abney decided right then and there that she may not have been the sleekest of models to hit the showroom floor but she had made a difference all the same.<br /><br />That was when Abney really felt it for the first time- her life; her simple quiet life was all she ever was.<br /><br />And she missed it.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/991274/eyes1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/677610/eyes1-3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />When Spring came Abney had decided to take up sketching. She was pretty awful at it, but she had nothing but time on her hands and if this didn't work she could always try something else.<br /><br />So one day she's at her favorite park sketching her favorite tree when four teenagers went walking by.<br /><br />Shoulder to shoulder they looked like a little black thundercloud rolling along on the cobble stone pathway.<br /><br />Their faces were pale, their lips were black and they smelled like the perfume counter at the Bay Side Department store.<br /><br />Abney watched them for a moment and then she called out, " You there...are you suppose to be Vampires? "<br /><br />There was a chorus of snorts and chuckles and someone tried to growl " suppose to be " but his his voice cracked.<br /><br />One of the little black clouds broke away from the rest and she tried to glide up towards the middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair " We're Goth " she said slowly with her jaw clenched tight and her black hair falling into her face.<br /><br />" Is that a new type of Vampire?" Abney asked cheerfully.<br /><br />" I guess you could say that." the girl with the pointed white teeth said. Then she tried to stare the old woman down. " Why do you want to know? "<br /><br />Abney shrugged, " just checking. "<br /><br />And as the little black cloud drifted down the path Abney got up, reached for the black bag under her chair and touched the little brass plate three times.<br /><br />Then she went to work.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/287952/aniskull1-27.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/132794/aniskull1-27.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1165704225798766162006-12-09T14:39:00.000-08:002006-12-09T14:43:45.803-08:00RSVP<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/44507/skull1-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/376148/skull1-11.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Valaria Aberdeen's house stands alone on Brier Road and it stands alone because no one will go near it.<br /><br />There were other houses up there too, but they're gone now and all that's left of them are their foundations. In some lots you might window frames and screens stacked in sloppy piles and here and there are wooden chairs and mailboxes.<br /><br />And then there's Valaria's House.<br /><br />There is no furniture in Valaria ‘s House but there is a mirror at the end of a hall where the doors rusted off of their hinges years and years ago.<br /><br />The mirrors face is so clear that you might think you were looking out of an open window, in fact if your were standing in front of it right now I'll bet you'd even put your hand out and touch the glass just to make sure that it wasn't an open window.<br /><br />The funny thing is-that's exactly what the mirror is.<br /><br />That's what I've heard anyway.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/44507/skull1-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/376148/skull1-11.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Every Halloween the Aberdeen Family hosted a Halloween Party.<br /><br />Everyone wore costumes, everyone bobbed for apples, everyone somehow ended up in the attic to tell ghost stories and then everyone would stumble down Brier Road to their houses by moonlight leaving a trail of candy wrappers behind them.<br /><br />Valaria Aberdeen loved to host her parties and at the last one she wasn’t her usual energetic self. She didn't even dress up in one of her elaborate rental costumes-she wasn't a lady pirate or a lady vampire or a sorceress or a belly dancer.<br /><br />That year, she wore a black dress and a set of acrylic 'fangs' on her teeth and painted her nails black. She had smeared pale blue makeup on her face and penciled dark circles under her eyes.<br /><br />She just shrugged when Mitchell asked about her costume and said to her husband who was dressed as a mummy " I'm just not really into it this year, so I guess I'm just going to be a boring witch" then she slammed her felt witch's hat onto her head with the little ghosts sewn around the brim and then she stomped down the hallway to the kitchen.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/44507/skull1-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/376148/skull1-11.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Mitchell tried to cheer Valaria up; he helped her finish the decorating and he told her little jokes and reminded her of the fun from their past parties and then the door bell rang. <br /><br />As the guests started to arrive Valaria seemed to blend into the background and she would hardly talk to anyone. It wasn't easy to avoid over 50 people in a room but Valaria found a way to do it and that's exactly what she did for hours.<br /><br />Sometime during the evening Mitchell looked up and saw Valaria fussing at the table with the food and punch. She looked up and saw him and waved and then she went out to the kitchen.<br /><br />At about Midnight she came bouncing out of the kitchen with a little wicker basket full of cookies shaped like pumpkins and cats and she was handing them out and laughing...not that thin laugh she had been using all evening but a heart felt laugh and when she saw him she held her basket up and said," guess what Mitchell I'm into it after all...I'm feeling like my old self again"<br /><br />" That's great dear! " he called out to her over his cup of hot cider.<br /><br />Valaria winked at him and kept handing out her cookies.<br /><br />She joined him a few minutes later and he put his hand out and asked for one of her cookies.<br /><br />Valaria looked stunned and hurt. " Why would I give you one of those Mitchell? "<br /><br />Mitchell said to her, " Because you love me..."<br /><br />Valaria rolled her eyes so far up all he could see were the whites of her eyes. God, he really hated it when she did that. " It's because I love you that you don't get one Mitchell."<br /><br />From over Valaria ‘s left shoulder Mitchell could see Missy Jenson from next door start to do a weird little dance and then she started to spin around and around and as she did he could that she was crying and that her tears were red.<br /><br />Blood red.<br /><br />In a few seconds everyone in the room were 'dancing' and they were shrieking and tearing at their throats. " What have you done Valaria? " Mitchell screamed, " What in God's name have you done?"<br /><br />Mitchell watched his wife dance around the room and as she swung her empty basket from side to side he could hear her say, " Guess what I am? Guess what I am? Guess what I am?"<br /><br />He chased her down the hall and when he caught up to her she was looking into the mirror her Grandmother had given them as a wedding present.<br /><br />It was a large ceiling to floor mirror encased in a heavy silver frame and until that moment Mitchell never wondered how they had ever gotten that thing through their door.<br /><br />Valaria was wiping her face and when she turned around he could see she had taken off most of the thick blue makeup and the black eyeliner pencil from around her eyes.<br /><br />Now her face was dark, dark red and her lips were black and then she pulled the hat off of her head with a flourish and he saw...<br /><br />he saw Valaria Aberdeen.<br /><br />Her pointed forked tongue snaked out from between her lips and she was feathering the hair away from the horns that she now had on her forehead.<br /><br />" I told you I was feeling like my old self again. Happy Halloween Mitchell" she said with a wink and then she turned and stepped into the mirror.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/44507/skull1-11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/376148/skull1-11.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />After that night people started to move away from Brier Road.<br /><br />Within days the houses the next block over were abandoned and then the houses on the block over from that were abandoned next and after awhile no one lived in that little town at all.<br /><br />But if you're feeling brave you can actually go up to Valaria Aberdeen's House and you can walk in and go down the hall and look into that mirror...and if you stare into it and say, " I know what you are Valaria Aberdeen..." three times...<br /><br />She'll give you a cookie <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/392260/eyes1-3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/908616/eyes1-3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1165703890810018642006-12-09T14:37:00.000-08:002006-12-09T14:38:10.830-08:00DARK TRAVELS<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/741113/saucer3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/122223/saucer3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> <br />Last Summer Mata Dark and her family took a vacation.<br /><br />Mata was almost 20 at the time and during her entire twenty years of life none of the Dark Family had set foot off of the Olympic Mountain Range in Washington State. They had never traveled further then 40 miles away from their hometown of Leaning Birches.<br /><br />It's because Mata's Father was a workaholic and he had this thing about being replaced. He was terrified of losing his job.<br /><br />" Lord Derby, do you really believe there's a line of people waiting for to do your job? " Mata's mom Rue screamed at the top of her lungs while waving around a bunch of travel pamphlets in her hand. Mom had wanted a vacation in the worst way and she felt like if she didn’t get this trip she wouldn’t have the energy to fight for another.<br /><br />Derby's eyes crossed a little like they always do when he thinks to hard and finally he said, " I'm sure there's a few people who would love to do my job. And do you know what Rue? They're probably a lot younger and smarter and quicker then me. Don't ask me to take a chance on losing the only thing I've ever been good at in my life."<br /><br />Rue who's eyes never crossed when she thought to hard lowered her voice and said " Derby you are the hardest working man in town and you've earned a vacation. Promise me you'll think about it."<br /><br />Derby who adored his wife and family as much as he adored his job gave in about a week after that argument. He came home one night from work and out of nowhere asked Rue would she mind if they took a road trip? He had a route and a destination picked out. He even had a leather folder that read “ USA TOURS” full of flyers, confirmation forms and event tickets.<br /><br />The travel agent he had worked with in town had even got them t-shirts to wear.<br /><br />Mata's Mom looked through the folder and then she unfolded one of the T-Shirts and held it up. " You've got to be kidding. " was all she could think to say.<br /><br />The shirt read:<br /><br /> " UFO PALOOZA 2006 "<br /> <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/879216/beamcrft.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/909178/beamcrft.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Derby smiled and shook his head. " Pack up, we leave at Dawn "<br /><br /> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/741113/saucer3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/122223/saucer3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a> <br /><br />Mata's brother 15-year-old brother Wilton not only wore the t-shirt the morning they left he went out to Joker's Galore the night before and bought a set of " Deeply Boppers" to wear on his head too.<br /><br />The " Deely Boppers " were silver antenna with gold balls at the top that were the size of marbles. When you turned your head something in them shifted and made a crackling sound.<br /><br />Mata took one long hard look at her brother, walked out the front door and then jumped on her motorcycle and rode at break neck speed into town and bought herself a set too.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/741113/saucer3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/122223/saucer3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Mata and her brother Wilton had agreed with each other sometime during that very long drive that if Mom said the words, ' UFO's? Are you kidding me Derby UFO's? Our one and only vacation as a family is to celebrate something that doesn't exist?" one more time they were both going to jump out of the car and take their chances on the New Mexico Desert, the New Mexico Sun and until they decided it sounded like fun the mutants that were suppose to have been created by the first Atomic Test back in 1945.<br /><br />" Hey Mom " Wilton asked, " do you think there really are Radioactive Mutants out here? "<br /><br />" Well I haven't seen any but that doesn't mean they don't exist...am I right Derby? "<br /><br />Derby reached over and patted her shoulder and said, " That's the Spirit Querida "<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/741113/saucer3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/122223/saucer3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The little town was almost full of people dressed up like aliens, there were also a lot of people not dressed like aliens and they all seemed to know a lot about space travel and where you could get " Saucer Burgers ", " Milkway Meals " and everyone wanted to know if you were able to get reservations to stay at the " Station 51 Hotel "<br /><br />Most of the Dark Family were secretly pleased they were staying at the " Place to Be " for the Festival but they kept it to themselves because of the look on Rue's face.<br /><br />Rue's face was this mask; she looked like someone had attached strings to her eyebrows and yanked them straight up.<br /><br />She had speechless since they arrived in town, which was actually a relief.<br /><br />Finally she opened her mouth, breathed and said " God in Heaven " and then she went back to the hotel and ordered a blood red steak and drank Strawberry Margaritas until she couldn't focus her eyes.<br /><br />After that she went back out and joined her family.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/741113/saucer3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/122223/saucer3.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Derby talked Rue into joining a UFO Watcher's Group and by the time they got back from spending an evening learning to plot their own star charts and joined in on a few debates about the Roswell Incident and watched a video of a genuine Alien Autopsy it was obvious Rue was having a good time.<br /><br />At least her eyebrows had gone back to their normal spot on her forehead and she had quit saying " God in Heaven " everytime someone walked by.<br /><br />So it really turned out to be a good trip and on their last night Rue and Derby went out with some new friends to make arrangements to get together for next year’s festival and Mata and Wilton went shopping.<br /><br />Mata and Wilton decided to go and pick up some souvenirs for their friends back home and they spent a lot of time talking to Mr. Fanshaw who ran the little Museum just around the street from the hotel. <br /><br />They talked about their Mom and their Dad and their home back in Washington. Small town stuff but Mr Fanshaw was a good audience and he asked lots of good questions.<br /><br />Mr Fanshaw, Mata and Wilton were pleased to discover knew all about Aliens and he also knew at least an hours worth of top drawer ghost stories and as he packed up Mata and Wilton's purchases he asked, " so tell me about your Mom, in the end she had a good time? Is she a believer now do you think? "<br /><br />" Doubt it, " Wilton said "she doesn't have much going in the way of imagination."<br /><br />" Sorry to hear that...its a curse of the Modern Age " Mr Fanshaw said sadly. Then he asked, "and what does she do for a living? "<br /><br />" Homemaker, " Mata told him " she use to be a Phlebotomist. That's how she met our Dad. See the offices she worked at used to get busted into and vandalized all of the time. One night she got attacked and our Dad actually saved her from being killed. They've been together ever since"<br /><br />" And what does your Dad do? " Mr Fanshaw asked.<br /><br />" He's a Vampire Hunter " Wilton said from behind a stack of packages and then he and Mata thanked Mr Fanshaw for all of his time and as the two young people left the Museum he heard Mata say " hey Wilton we should talk to Dad about The Triangle for our next trip..."<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/1600/306164/explorer.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1115/791/320/233384/explorer.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1151770021216071582006-07-01T09:06:00.000-07:002006-07-01T09:07:01.233-07:00FAMILY TIES<em>I reached into the Chocolate Box and found...<br />http://www.outbackonline.net/choc%20box/choc_suitcase_memories.htm</em><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/R59.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/R59.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Orcella Moss sat at his kitchen table with a small box of bones in front of him. Every once and awhile he’d reach out and jiggle the box around and then he’d look down into the top of it and sometimes he’d start to reach into it and then he’d stop.<br /> <br />Then he moved the box back to the center of the table and he wondered.<br /> <br />He wondered where his 13-year-old daughter could have found a human jawbone and other broken little pieces of bone and how it all ended up in an old fashion hatbox mixed up with the bits and pieces of her day-to-day life.<br /> <br />Orcella could hear her up in her room; a little while ago he had heard her TV go on, then he heard a beep and whine and then a hum as her computer came to life and he wondered how that little monster could do anything as normal as hit on and off switches when she’d been living in the same room with a busted human jaw bone, a mummified finger and little bits of bone in a hatbox she had left on her desk top.<br /><br />Earlier that morning Orcella had gone up to Kirsten’s room to liberate the batteries from the remote control for the TV in the living room that somehow always found their way upstairs to Kirsten’s room and into her remote control.<br /><br />That’s when he saw the old box with the faded candy pink stripes sitting on her desk and almost as an after thought looked down into it.<br /> <br />The box was right next to her California Cutie doll and her makeup (cotton candy flavored lipstick and some blush-on) and her hairbrush and a little bottle of perfume she’d mixed herself at Scent By You at the Mall.<br /> <br />And in the middle of all of that junk was the hatbox with the jawbone that was on the table in front of him now. He looked into the box one more time and that’s when he noticed the nail on the finger was manicured and polished and had a tiny rainbow decal near it’s tip.<br /> <br /> “ Kirsten,” he called up to her “ come on down here for a second, would you?”<br /> <br />He heard the sound go down on the TV and she called back, “ What?”<br /> <br />“ I want to talk to you.”<br /> <br />“ Busy.” She called back in her best little girl in the world voice.<br /><br />Then not only did the TV go back on it went up.<br /> <br />“ Kirsten get down here.”<br /> <br />“ This better be important Dad,” she snapped back from over the racket “ cause I’m…”<br /> <br />“ Missing something from off your desk. So get down here NOW.”<br /> <br />The TV clicked off and the computer hummed and shut down. He could hear Kirsten walking across her bedroom floor. He heard the door open and then close and then the sound of her footsteps at the top of the stairs.<br /><br /> “ This is very serious Dad.” He heard her walking down the steps “ You need to respect me and my privacy.”<br /> <br />She was standing in the kitchen now. Her mouth was a hard straight line and her chin was tilted up and she looked down her nose at him, “ That box is mine and what’s in it is mine and I want it back.”<br /> <br />“ I want to know where you found this Kirsten, for heaven’s sake Kid, this is a human jaw bone and what are these? “ he held the box up and shook it at her.<br /> <br />“ Finger bones, “ she held her hand up ‘ fingertip bones, I don’t know exactly but they’re mine Daddy and I want them back.”<br /> <br />“ Just answer me, where did you find this stuff?’ she was looking at him with a dull flat expression and he knew very well by the look on her face she hadn’t ‘found’ anything. Not in this condition anyway.<br /><br />He tried another tact.<br /> <br />“ Kirsten these are human remains and you had them mixed in with your makeup, some CD’s and a half eaten candy bar and a stale bagel. Do you know how abnormal that is?”<br /> <br />It was very clear by the way she was still looking down her nose that she did know and that she also didn’t care.<br /> <br />“ Give me back my things Daddy.” She said in her best schoolmarm voice. “ Or else.”<br /> <br />“ Or what Kirsten? Am I going to end up in a box on your desk with candy bar wrappers and a half eaten bagel?”<br /> <br />“ No, but you know that thing you have hidden in the basement? If you want it back Daddy you’ll hand that box over right now.”<br /> <br />“ You didn’t…”<br /> <br />“ I mean it Daddy, hand the box over right now.”<br /> <br />He practically threw it at her and as she bent over to pick up some of the little bones that had fallen out she said, “ you’re gross Daddy “ she said with disgust “ I can’t believe you brought that into our house and hid it in a trunk with the Christmas ornaments. That’s twisted.”<br /><br />She was looking into the box and then she looked around on the floor and came back up with the finger with the nail still attached and she dropped it into the box. “ You’re sick Daddy, you need help.”<br /><br />Orcella watched Kirsten stomp up the stairs, he heard the door slam shut and the music go on full blast. It was loud; loud enough to shake the pictures on the wall, loud enough to attract attention, loud enough to maybe force the neighbors to call the police and complain.<br /><br />Orcella didn’t go up the stairs, he went back into his kitchen and down the steps to the basement…and then he started to clear the Christmas ornaments out of the trunk.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/badpl11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/badpl11.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1151163068633903432006-06-24T08:23:00.000-07:002006-06-26T13:49:33.490-07:00WELCOME TO BOCKSBOHNE<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/BOGBEAN.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/BOGBEAN.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Have you ever been on a road trip, and ended up driving down those dirt roads that lead into the dead empty towns with boarded up fast food places with names like “ Chicken Basket “ or “ Hank’s Hamburger Haven “ and have you noticed there’s always a gas station with those funny tin signs advertising a brand of cigarettes or beer that no one’s seen on a shelf in over 50 years? <br /><br />No doubt on these trips you’ve seen the houses too, the odd gray houses sitting up off the road. <br /><br />You’ve probably even seen curtains hanging in the windows and your not sure but you think you may have seen someone looking back out at you as you drove by. Maybe you’ve even seen one of those old time drug stores with the Soda Fountain in the back but you know, you wouldn’t stop there on a bet to check it out because you’ll tell yourself you don’t have the time…you’ve got somewhere to get to.<br /><br />There, you’ll reassure yourself that sounds good.<br /><br />But that little voice, it’s it the real reason you don’t stop because it’s screaming at you, “ don’t you dare stop! Hey are you listening to me? I don’t care if you run out of gas! You will not stop in this town because if you do you’re going to have to get out and push. Don’t you even think about stopping here, is that clear?”<br /><br />Then when you hit the other end of “ Main Street” (which will only take about three minutes) and you’re back on that long empty dirt road that some joker of a map maker called “ interstate 101 or Highway 19” you’ll have forgotten you were afraid.<br /><br />After a few more minutes that empty little town that scared you half to death will be long behind you and it’ll be like you were never there at all<br /><br />That’s what the town of Bocksbohne is like; once you leave it you’ll never be sure you were really there.<br /><br />One summer Audley Frame was driving to Seattle and somewhere along Amorita Pass high in the Olympic Mountains she passed through a town called Turnsole (clearly marked on her map) and after a few miles she was on a dirt highway that lead straight into Bocksbohne.<br /><br />That’s what the white sign with the peeling black letters read.<br /><br />Welcome to Bocksbohne<br /><br />It wasn’t suppose to be there according to the map, it had no reason to be there out in the middle of nowhere but it was there all the same and before she knew it Audley Frame was speeding passed a drive in theatre with a rusted swing set and a fallen over carousel under a weather-beaten movie screen. Across the street from the drive in was Chieko’s Drugstore and further up from that was little brick building with a sign in its window.<br /><br />She slammed on her brakes and was snapped back in her seat by her seatbelt and she hardly noticed the pain because all she saw was the sign.<br /><br />It was a simple sign, the background was flat black and the letters were neon orange and the sign simply said:<br /><br />Help Wanted.<br /><br />The window was caked with dust and grime and right there in the center of the window screaming in brand new orange neon letters was the word:<br /><br />HELP.<br /><br />Not help wanted.<br /><br />Now it just said <br /><br />HELP<br /><br />Audley’ s foot came off the brake and she let her car roll forward and she turned to watch the window as her car tried to pull itself away from building. <br /><br />Now the sign read “ HELP WANTED INQUIRE WITHIN “.The letters were blood red and the ink was so fresh it had smudged a little on the filthy glass window.<br /><br />“ Red Ink” she heard herself say, “ it’s red ink.”<br /><br />Then her foot found the gas pedal and Audley’ s car roared passed buildings and houses with broken windows and doors that were falling off of their hinges. She ignored the rusty children’s toys abandoned on the sidewalks and she hit a few curbs and before she knew it she was out the other end of Bocksbohne and when she looked into her rearview mirror she saw her dark brown hair had turned white.<br /><br />She put her hand to the mirror and turned it down, she had no intentions of using it until Bocksbohne was behind her.<br /><br />Far behind her.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/BOGBEAN.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/BOGBEAN.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1150614428866407932006-06-18T00:06:00.000-07:002006-06-27T20:11:47.403-07:00BURNSTONE<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/Handprints.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/Handprints.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />In Burnstone, Washington one of my favorite places to visit is the Tymbal Cemetery and Funeral Home. <br /><br />Tymbal is a pauper's cemetery from the old days so it's not great shakes. No fancy monuments, no fancy gates but there are trees and they’re covered with ivy which is nice because the trees have been dead for years and they don’t put leaves out anymore.<br /> <br />The sad thing is everyone forgot the Cemetery was there and for awhile the City of Burnstone Streets Department used Tymbal as a storage place for their work trucks and they used the Funeral home as office space until someone realized all those garbage trucks and lawn mowers and a bunch of other maintenance tools were leaking oil all over unmarked graves.<br /> <br />So before you could say ' desecration ' the City decided to build a new maintenance facility for the Street Works Department and without as much as a backwards glance they left the graveyard to choke on weeds and nettles and blackberry bushes.<br /> <br />Looking back, it was sort of odd the way the weeds came back so fast.<br /> <br />Anyway.<br /> <br />About a month after the big move a young woman named Tamus Bloodroot slammed her car into one of the dead trees near the cemetery entrance and she never left.<br /><br /> She never left because no one ever found her.<br /> <br />They found her car, they found the door open and they found a large pool of blood about three feet away from the crash sight.<br /> <br />But they never found Tamus.<br /> <br />The day after they found her car stories about an injured woman, who was identified as Tamus, asking for help at the side of the road started up. Some people said they actually stopped for her and picked her up and talked to her and she always said the same thing, “ can you help me now. “<br /><br />When they turned to reassure her that’s what they’re doing she’d be gone.<br /> <br />You can imagine Tamus Bloodroot's family was pretty upset that they're daughter had become an urban legend and people were suppose to be talking to her ghost.<br /><br />" I doubt " her Father had screamed into the face of a reporter doing Halloween stories for the evening news one year, " that if my daughter could come back from the grave she'd spend all of her time asking drunken teenagers for rides to the hospital."<br /><br />That was true, in life Tamus wasn’t the sort of person who asked for anything, she’d tell you exactly what she wanted and if you didn’t come across…heaven help you. The girl had a temper and the holes in her bedroom walls and her trail of broken relationships were solid proof of that.<br /><br />Life went on after that… even Tamus Bloodroot went on, people never stopped seeing her and they all knew she was out there asking for help.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/Handprints.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/Handprints.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> <br />Bryony Middleton and his family live out on Cemetery Road. He’s lived out there his entire life<br />And he knows that stretch of road so well he could drive it with his eyes closed.<br /><br />That’s something he did almost every Saturday night after and evening on the town with his friends. He’s sort of famous around here for that, you might not know Bryony’s name or anything about him but you’ve heard of the ‘ guy who drives passed the cemetery in his sleep on Saturdays’.<br /> <br />Anyway it was one of his 10 or was it 12 kids that said to him after finding him and his truck at the end of their driveway one morning " if you're going to drive when you’re sleeping Daddy, at least wear your seat belt."<br /> <br />Not to be mean, and Bryony loved his 10-12 children a lot even if he forgot their names and didn't know exactly how many of them there were, but on more then one occasion Bryony was heard to say, " Geeze, my kids, you know they're okay as far as rug rats go but they sure aren't the sharpest tools in the shed, if you get my meaning."<br /> <br />But this time Bryony’s kids were right and on that winter evening out on Tymbal Cemetery Road his kids were the sharpest tools to be found in any shed anywhere on the planet.<br /> <br />The roads were iced over when Bryony left the " Corner Tavern " only he didn't notice. I mean he was sliding and tripping a lot...but you know he'd chalked that up to the liquid refreshments he'd indulged in for the past four hours.<br /> <br />So Bryony got into his truck and tried to buckle himself in, but he couldn't make the lock work so he put the belt on and tied it closed and then he took a roll of duct tape and somehow managed to tape himself to his seat.<br /><br />I'm not kidding I wish I were. Like I said, Bryony loved his kids and he'd do any for them even if they only had a handful of brain cells between them.<br /> <br />Then he turned the key in the ignition (he always left it in because it was pretty hard for him to fit that key into that little hole after a long evening out) and he took a sloppy left and turned out onto the unlit road, marked as Old Burnstone Highway but known unofficially as Cemetery Road by the locals.<br /> <br />He was halfway home and nearly asleep when he came to Tymbal Cemetery and saw the Funeral Home with the tape on it’s cracked windows. Bryony mistook it for his house and in a panic he jerked the steering wheel and sent his truck into the ditch that surrounded the cemetery.<br /> <br />Like I said, Tymbal’s is a Pauper’s Graveyard and there are no frills about it. The people out there were forgotten in life and they were forgotten in death too.<br /><br />So the residents of Tymbal's have numbers, not names and they have pine boxes made at the Prison in Fallen not fancy caskets with brass handles. And there is no fence surrounding the cemetery just a ditch cut into a “V” shape and it's lined with jagged sharp rocks that were once the face of an old Mansion that burned to the ground about 100 years ago. <br /> <br />The Old Mansion was wasn't a good place and it’s owners were sort of an embarrassment to the City so after the fire Burnstone hauled off a mountain of debris and they decided to put it to good use.<br /><br />Anything they could salvage went into the construction of The Tymbal Funeral Home and Cemetery.<br /> <br />The " fence" is what Bryony hit that night. His truck went into the ditch head on and then it flipped and rolled and finally stopped almost in the middle of the graveyard.<br /> <br />Taped and tied to his seat Bryony was bruised and beaten and good thing he was sitting upright because if he'd been in any other position he'd probably have choked on his own vomit, of which he apparently lost a lot of that night.<br /> <br />When he was done he considered his options.<br /> <br />He could cut himself loose but more then likely he'd end up stabbing himself to death because at the moment one of his eyes was swollen shut and the other, well you know Bryony should probably be wearing glasses but he doesn't. <br /><br />Plus the crash had done nothing to sober him up he wasn’t sure he could find the business end of the knife if he wanted to.<br /> <br />" Poor Daddy, " he could actually see one of his many children saying to his unborn grandchildren " he survived the worse car accident ever and he ended up stabbing himself to death trying to cut himself loose from his car seat. No, he wasn't trapped. Somehow he taped himself to his seat. No I can't explain it. I loved my Dad but he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed if you get my meaning."<br /> <br />So Bryony figured all he could do was sit there and more likely then not someone would see him from the road in the morning. Resigned to a long cold smelly night he was about to try to catch some sleep when he saw the woman standing next to his car.<br /><br />She was facing away from him and the way she was standing was wrong. Her shoulders were twisted and one of her arms seemed to be hanging a little lower then the other. At first Bryony thought she was tilting her head to the side like she was listening for something, but then he realized her head wasn't tilted it was flatter, much flatter then the other side of her head.<br /> <br />All Bryony could think to say was, " heck of a night, ain't it? "<br /> <br />" Can you help me now? " she said to no one " can you help me now?"<br /> <br />She started to turn and Bryony knew, he just knew that the front of that woman was going to look worse then the back and he didn't want to see that.<br /> <br />So Bryony did all he could think of to do. He turned the key, gave his battered truck some gas and there is a Heaven because it screamed (more then likely it was Bryony doing the screaming) to life and Bryony drove it blindly through the cemetery and towards the road…and the fence.<br /> <br />Only he never hit the fence, he never even made it out of the cemetery because before he hit the ditch he hit a tree and when he did the world around him exploded.<br /> <br />It was three of Bryony’s kids that found their dad and his truck the next morning. No, he wasn't dead; Bryony is made out of tougher stuff then that. Plus, I'm sure that with his dietary habits of fried food and alcohol he's pretty much preserved himself alive.<br /> <br />Which was good because Bryony had a story that people from all over the county wanted him to tell over and over again.<br /> <br />First of all the woman in the Graveyard, Bryony figured, wasn’t saying " Can you help me now " she was saying " Can you help me down " and he figured that out because on the night Tamus Bloodroot hit the Tymbal ‘fence’ she wasn't duct taped to her seat the way Bryony was so she smashed through her windshield and was thrown up and out of her car...<br /> <br />And straight up into a tree covered with Ivy.<br /><br />That’s the story of Tamus Bloodroot and that’s how it ends…with parts of her raining down onto the hood of Bryony Middleton's truck.<br /><br />The story about Old Burnstone Highway hasn’t ended. Earlier this year it earned this label as the most dangerous stretch road in the entire state of Washington.<br /><br />It’s not a main highway and you can’t find it from any major roads but over 300 people have died along it this year alone. I mean, people from Arizona and Texas visitors from other countries in rental cars have met their end out there an if they don’t die in the wreck they can’t explain why they were there…at dark.<br /><br />They <strong><em>never</em></strong> say though that they were lost.<br /><br />Funny, isn’t it?<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/Handprints.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/Handprints.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1150350187628726762006-06-14T22:42:00.000-07:002006-06-18T00:05:35.440-07:00THE WITCH OF WHITE ASH MOUNTAIN<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/calisaya.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/calisaya.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><em>The Grave of Calisaya Stoneroot is lost back up in the hills of White Ash Mountain here in Washington State and not a year goes by a story doesn't show up on the evening news or the front page of a local newspaper with the headline:<br /> <br />" Remains of Hikers Found "<br /> <br />And somewhere in the story you will find that these Hikers weren't going to White Ash to admire the scenery. They’re out there looking for the grave of the infamous Witch of White Ash Mountain.<br /><br />I know this story by heart and here’s how it goes…</em><br /><br /><br /><br />Rocella Coffin was the law in White Ash back in 1964, she was short and dark and bad tempered, as most of the Sheriffs in the Duwamish Bay area are. To be specific none of the Sheriffs in Ballast County are known for their sense of humor but at times they do laugh and some joke and some smile all except for Sheriff Coffin. <br /><br />Sheriff Coffin held her spot as the Ballast County" <em>least likely to be amused by anything law enforcement official </em>" with a grip so tight it’s unlikely anyone would ever be able to pry the title from her hand. <br /><br />That title, however, became Coffin’s for all eternity when Avery Bowen showed up the day after the execution of Calisaya Stoneroot.<br /> <br />Avery pulled into the Sheriff's station and forgot to stop his truck. It only stopped because the Sheriff’s car (her own car, not her patrol car) was in the way. Avery wasn't hurt but he was bleeding and he was sort of running around in circles and no matter how loud she yelled he wouldn’t stop. <br /> <br />Sheriff Coffin didn't even read him his rights.<br /> <br />She just pulled her gun and shot him right between the eyes, right there in the parking lot in front of the Sheriff’s Station. When she was done Rocella stood over Avery's body and said down at his pale white face, " I told you to settle down, now start over. "<br /> <br />Avery looked up at her and said, " she's back Sheriff, and I saw her walking up the road not even an hour ago. Calisaya Stoneroot is back."<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> <br />Rocella dragged Avery into her office and pulled a pair of tweezers from her desk drawer. She took a look at Avery's wound and dropped them back in and he saw she had a crochet hook in her hand. " Sit still " she told him.<br /> <br />Avery obeyed and he felt Rocella pull some of his skin away from his wound with her fingers and then with one smooth move the hook was in and out and in her hand was a small piece of mashed gray metal. <br /> <br />" Tell me what you saw, and I suggest you don't fool around with me because the next thing I'm pulling out are the silver bullets. Got it? "<br /> <br />Avery tried very hard to focus his eyes and he nodded, " I saw her down on Middleditch Road, walking kind of slow and funny and …”<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> <br />If Avery hadn’t been so distracted by picking at the bullet wound in his forehead he would have found it a little amusing that Calisaya had been hung just the day before on November 5, 1964 at dawn for Witchcraft.<br /><br />You read that right. Not 1664, 1564, 1264. <br /> <br />1964.<br /> <br /> <br />1964: That was the year Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in Prison and China detonated it's first atomic bomb and US Surgeon General Luther Terry affirmed that cigarette smoking caused cancer.<br /> <br />You read that right, it was 1964, and back in the hills of White Ash Mountain a woman died laughing with a noose around her neck and she was buried with that terrible wide grin on her face and her mouth was stuffed with garlic and her eyes had been sewn shut.<br /> <br />Not that anyone in the town thought it would do them any good; they'd figure Calisaya would be back before dawn. <br /> <br />They were right.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> <br />The towns’ people of White Ash had for the past 20 years tried everything to rid themselves of Calisaya Stoneroot.<br /> <br />First they tried bringing in that Priest from Seattle.<br /><br />The Sheriff from Duwamish Bay and two of her friends that worked the Sideshow came to watch Father Thomas bless the Cemetery the Witch and her Demons were living in and Sheriff Coffin thought it might actually work; the Witch and the demons rode out of the Cemetery Gates like the Devil himself was chasing them.<br /><br />Later Sheriff Coffin realized Sheriff Blitzer and her friends snorting and snickering and stupid comments were probably what really drove Demons and the Witch away. <br /><br />Four days later Stoneroot was back.<br /> <br />Another year they even tried to burn Calisaya at the stake and Blitzer and a woman with bad skin actually brought Snow Puffed Marshmallows and skewers and handed them to Rocella and her Deputy with the advice, “ you might as well get something out of this cause that won’t work either.”<br /> <br />Calisaya, over the years, went from tormenting farm animals and turning the water in the wells to blood and making the crops and the fruit trees go bad (which turned out to be a favorite of hers) and casting curses and playing petty tricks on the Towns People to grave robbing.<br /> <br />That was the last straw as far as Ballast County was concerned. <br /><br />They sent word down that White Ash cut out the theatrical executions and do something about Stoneroot or they (Duwamish Bay, Fallen, Ninebones Cross and Abandon) were going to do something about them.<br /> <br />The Valleys and Mountains if Ballast County were full of barren dead places where it could reach over 90 degrees in the summer and it didn't matter because it was so cold you'd get frostbite if you weren't covered up.<br /> <br />The ground in these barren places are full of a fine heavy dust that’s almost impossible to wash from your clothes and if you aren’t careful it’ll work it's way into your skin and cause a nasty infection that acts like leprosy.<br /><br />That dust is all that’s was left of the people and the places that Ballast County 'did something about' when things got out of hand.<br /> <br />Sheriff Coffin had no intention of letting the town of White Ash become another open grave.<br /><br /> No matter what it took.<br /><br />Even if it meant going to Duwamish Bay itself.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> <br />The Duwamish Bay Curiosity Shop is famous for a lot of things: it's genuine Egyptian Mummy, it's collection of shrunken heads, it's electric chair (you could sit in it and get your picture taken) it's " funeral tools from across the ages” and it's jars.<br /> <br />People drove from all over the state to look at " The jars" which where kept behind a door riddled with bullet holes.<br />Inside of those jars are things like the three headed cat, an alligator with human face, tumors and eyes and brains and limbs and hearts and medical experiments gone bad. <br /> Most infamous of all in this collectoin is the 'devil baby”. <br />The Devil Baby not only had horns and a tail but an eye in the center of it's forehead and sometimes that eye opened and sometimes it was shut and no matter where you stood in the store you knew it was watching you.<br /> <br />The Shop was <em>also</em> famous for it's Soda Fountain but on that day Sheriff Coffin wasn't in the mood for a Strawberry Phosphate. She looked over the menu tacked to the wall and next to it on pressed tin sign was a sign that read<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /> <blockquote>OVER 2000 AMAZING ARTIFCATS<br /> 25 ARE GENUINE FAKES<br /> FREE SUNDAES FOR A YEAR<br /> IF YOU GUESS RIGHT<br /> </blockquote><br /><br />“ Want to take a guess?” Ignancia asked <br /><br />“ No. “<br /><br />“ Go on, take a guess…I got all day and from what I hear you don’t.”<br /><br />“ The Baby…”<br /><br />“ Nope, you’re wrong. Everybody wants that baby to be fake. That’s how come we don’t have to cough up the free ice cream. It’s that baby bless it’s dark little heart. Nobody wants that baby to be real.”<br /><br />It was true; Rocella felt her chest tighten when Ignancia told her about the baby. “ Look Mrs. Guzman, I need to get rid of a nasty tempered Witch who’s developed some weird culinary habits. Can you help us?”<br /><br />Ignancia looked up at the ceiling like she was reading something up there and Rocella had to fight the urge to do the same. <br /><br />Finally Ignancia said, “ Oh, this is going to be good, come on follow me, we have to go into the Workshop”<br /> <br />Rocella followed Ignancia behind the Counter and they went back into her Workshop and as the door clicked shut behind them it occurred to Rocella the door had been there a minute ago.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />As Rocella drove back up to White Ash she went over the instruction again, “ You can’t write these down you know. You have to memorize this so don’t blow it. “ <br /><br />“ You know why Calisaya is bothering you all up in White Ash and not us down here in Duwamish?” Ignancia asked<br /><br />“ I don’t know she likes the View?”<br /><br />“ Don’t be stupid, it’s because you’re all old world up there. All that garlic and chanting and potions. She’s a modern woman and none of that is going to work on her. You have to think, how do you trap and kill a modern witch? “<br /><br />Rocella shook her head, “ Come on Mrs. Guzman, the Sun is going to set soon and the Auditors will be heading up soon. “<br /><br />Ignancia handed Rocella three sheets of what she thought were paper. But as the Sheriff took each one from Ignancia’ s hand she saw what they were, she could feel what they were and worse they were still warm. “ I don’t want to know “ Rocella said.<br /><br />“ Don’t be such a baby. Now listen. You go to that tree by your courthouse. You go up on a ladder this has to be at least 7 feet up and you nail this first…”<br /><br />“ Spells? I thought you said the old world…”<br /><br />“ It’s not what you think. This is strictly modern and legal. Don’t look at me like that … it is. See, this is a Summons for her to appear, the minute this goes up no matter what she has to come forward. This is a warrant for her execution you nail this up second. This time I think you’ll find your rope will do it’s job and so will fire. I’d go with the rope it’s so dry out right now you wouldn’t want to start a forest fire, would you? Now, this little puppy is the dealmaker. This is her death certificate. You just sign here and there and here “ Ignancia said as she flipped the heavy pages up one by one and I think you’ll find yourself short a citizen before morning.<br /><br />But if this comes down, if someone is dumb enough to pull the nail out and this paperwork is disturbed. Well, it won’t be good for White Ash. Won’t be so hot for me either.”<br /><br />“ Fine, you got a pen or something cause I have to be going…Oh let me guess” Rocella said as she sat down hard on a wooden barstool and tilted her head to the side. “ Don’t get any of it on the Uniform. I just had it cleaned.”<br /><br />Ignancia pulled a scalpel from a little black bag and as she found Sheriff Coffin’s artery and nicked it open she asked, “ so Rocella, how’s the family?”<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/calisaya.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/calisaya.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />So did it work? You’re probably wondering. <br /><br />Well, White Ash is on the Map, and you can go there if you want and see for yourself.<br /><br />It’s small and old fashion and the Sheriff is bad tempered and has this funny scar on the side of her neck that bleeds at the wrong time (birthday parties, funerals when she’s in Court and swearing and using profanity isn’t something you don’t want to do at the tops of your lungs)<br /><br />As for Calisaya Stoneroot, you know there isn’t a Halloween that’s gone by for the past 40 odd years since her execution that a bunch of weirdos from Seattle and as far away as Bellingham don’t descend by the hundreds on poor little White Ash looking for the grave of the Witch of White Ash. <br /><br />Was she real?<br /><br />If proof is all you want all you have to do is go to the tree besides the court house and look up and there on one of the branches is an old frayed piece of rope still gray and covered with moss and further up still are three pieces of something that looks like parchment nailed firmly to the tree’s trunk.<br /><br />Just make sure you leave White Ash before the sunsets.<br /><br />And before the residents of White Ash start thinking about dinner.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1145327937086679412006-04-17T19:38:00.000-07:002006-07-16T11:22:49.406-07:00WHAT THE DEAD MAN HEARD<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/cemetery01.2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/cemetery01.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The Dead Man was wrapped in plastic and resting on the lower shelf of a C.U in a Funeral Home exactly four miles from where he once lived and exactly a half a block from where he died.<br /><br />" So this is the guy that bought it outside the cemetery, I mean, is that a smack down or what?" the Dead Man heard. " Like, to DIE right outside a Funeral Home." The plastic was pulled back from his face and the Mortician, a young woman with vines and flowers tattooed around her neck, hidden while she worked with a high neck collars shook her head. " Dude, normally I don't pass judgment on the dead or how you got that way.... but that has got to be a major burn."<br /><br />Her name was Alissa and she liked to listen to music as she worked. Loud music, especially at night when she had to work alone. The caretaker who had seen her drive up and knew he was about to be treated to hours of something called The Ramones asked her why she had to have the stereo up so loud and she said, " You know, we really shouldn't be here at night. You ever get that feeling?"<br /><br />The Caretaker nodded because he understood it all right; he didn't like having a night shift around. He wished that the Morticians quit slacking off or doing whatever it was during the day that managed to put them behind schedule.<br /><br />What he really hated though was that they called these night shifts " Embalming Parties" and when more then two of them were at these "embalming parties" they ordered Pizza from 4 different places and took bets on which delivery would actually show up.<br /><br />Morbid little psychos.<br /><br />" So, anyway, wouldn't want to over hear something I shouldn't."<br /><br />The Caretaker agreed, "No you wouldn't" and he smiled and Alissa thought that The Caretaker (Tony) was one of the rare human beings who were lucky enought to be exactly where he should be in this life.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/anubis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/anubis.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Alissa spent hours rebuilding the Dead Man’s face. At least only one side was damaged and she could use the other side as a guide. When she was finished she pulled the skin back up and over and looked at him for a very long time.<br /><br />Then she started over.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/anubis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/anubis.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Alissa was cleaning the Dead Man up when she heard someone walking up behind her, felt someone look over her shoulder and they were close enough that Alissa could feel their chest press against her shoulder.<br /><br />“ You do wonderful work” the voice that was neither male nor female said but one thing she was sure of it was cold.<br /><br />Alissa shook her head and wouldn’t allow herself to turn around because if she did that she’d end up running and leaving the Dead Man alone with that cold voice and she couldn’t.<br /><br />Until they put him into the casket he was her responsibility.<br /><br /><br />After awhile Alissa heard rustling behind her, and she knew that whatever was back there had just sat down on the little green chair they kept in the room and they had slid it forwards towards the embalming table.<br /><br />“I do enjoy watching you all work. After all with the flick of a scalpel and the plunge of a needle you try, and the word is <em>try</em> to not only hide my art, but also deny I even exist. Young lady, we’re speaking artist to artist here. How would you like it if I reached out and did the same…”<br /><br />Alissa turned her head away and she felt a hand push at her waist to move her aside and she knew it was reaching towards the Dead Man, to the stitches on the right side of his neck. She pushed back and ignored the voice.<br /><br />She even managed to smile.<br /><br />The she placed her hand on the Dead Man’s shoulder and she told him, “ Here we go Sir.”<br /><br />Alissa gently slid The Dead Man off the embalming table and onto the cot and she was about to wheel him out of the Embalming room when she saw the radio through the doorway next to the lockers in the Prep room. It was sitting on an orange plastic chair, like always only this time the cord was neatly coiled and resting on top of the stereo.<br /><br />She had forgot to plug it in.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/anubis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/anubis.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1145326275127727502006-04-17T19:10:00.000-07:002006-06-14T22:45:06.216-07:00HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/142004201MxTiJU_fs.1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/142004201MxTiJU_fs.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Back along on Deception Road is a little farmhouse that no one lives in.<br /><br />After the house was built and then put up for sale the orchard out back died, the little vegetable garden died and all of the pumpkins and squashes and tomatoes rotted right on their vines.<br /><br />Even the flowers in the window boxes shriveled up and turned to dust within a day or so after they were set out and all the little farmhouse could do was slam its doors open and shut and make the clock in its kitchen strike twelve over and over again.<br /><br />The man who built the farmhouse, Travis Janosik, use to stand out at the road and wonder what the hell was going on in there, why was it that nothing could live near that place without giving up the ghost.<br /><br />There was nothing about Travis that would make you say, ‘you know that killer house? The one on Deception Road? It was built by Travis Janosik” and the person you would be talking to wouldn’t reply, “ Well of course it was a strange house. Look who built it.”<br /><br />No, the house turned bad all by itself and this bothered no one more then Travis. What bothered him more than that though happened when the house was two years old.<br /><br />That’s when someone actually bought it and moved in.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/233532579YISGDs_ph.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/233532579YISGDs_ph.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The ‘someones’ who bought the farmhouse were the Korbar Family.<br /><br />Travis use to drive out to Deception Road and park across the way from the Farmhouse and watch it. He’d see Darius Korbar working the vegetable garden or see him sitting on the porch with one of the many children he and Mrs. Korbar had and they acted like any other family living in those hills.<br /><br />Unless of course you really watched them the way Travis did.<br /><br />At first he had no interest in the Korbar family. His interest was in that house and what it was up to now. It didn’t have to settle for killing plants and the odd field animal that got to close to its walls. Now it had the Korbar children who scuttled around the property in their ill-fitting clothes.<br /><br />At least that’s how it looked but then Travis realized it wasn’t the clothes that didn’t fit right, it was the bodies inside the clothes that weren’t right.<br /><br />The children’s heads were to large for their small bodies and their hands and feet didn’t seem to be the same size and when they talked Travis felt the hair rising up on his arms and the back of his neck and that’s when he’d cut his daily vigil off.<br /><br />Once Travis saw Mrs. Korbar come down the front steps with a tall glass in her hand and make her way to the garden to where Mr Korbar was working. She handed him the glass and he kissed her cheek and then she made her way back up the steps and Travis watched her but didn’t notice that as she climbed the steps her head was tilted slightly backwards and her back was straight as a pole and she never bent her knees.<br /><br />It was like she was gliding up the steps and not walking up them at all.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/233532579YISGDs_ph.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/233532579YISGDs_ph.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Towards the end of the summer the gardens were dead and rotten and Mr Korbar was out there working it like it as if it were alive and thriving. The ground was water logged and moldy with green slime. The vegtables were rotting and decayed and you could actually smell it when the wind shifted.<br /><br />On top of the fact that Travis was watching a man harvest from a garden full of rotten vegetables he was also sure that some of that smell was coming from Mr Korbar too.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/233532579YISGDs_ph.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/233532579YISGDs_ph.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Travis promised himself after that visit he wouldn’t go near the Farmhouse on Deception Road. Something was wrong with it, something was wrong with the people living inside of it and Travis was certain if he didn’t stop going over there something would be wrong with him too.<br /><br />Of course, it was too late because that something had already happened to Travis and he found himself standing at the end of the drive leading right up to the Farmhouse the next day.<br /><br />He was in plain view and Mrs. Korbar must have seen him from one of her windows because he wasn't there for long before she came down the steps and met him with a basket of rotting carrots and maggot filled tomatoes on her arm.<br /><br />“ We never got the chance to thank you for building this wonderful house Mr Janosik. Its perfect and we love it so.”<br /><br />Travis was looking into the basket of dead and decaying vegetables and he said, “ How could you love it so? Nothing can live inside of that thing…”<br /><br />And Mrs. Korbar said, “ Well, Mr Janosik nothing does…”<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/15_12p.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/15_12p.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1145294992717830702006-04-17T10:29:00.000-07:002006-04-17T10:29:52.760-07:00BINDERWEED<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/GREATER%20BINDWEED.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/GREATER%20BINDWEED.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><em>I introduced Lesser Thornapple here in the Land of Standing Stones and I thought some of you might be interested in learning how he got there. So here’s his story and it actually starts at...</em> <br /><br /><strong>THE END</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/thornappel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/thornappel.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />On the Doctor's desk in the village of Ninebones Cross is the skull of a hanged man whose name was Lesser Thornapple.<br /><br />Lesser was hung in 1864 for three murders and for a few that the people in the town of Bronson were pretty sure he did but couldn't prove and for the ones they were sure he would commit in the future.<br /><br />So Lesser went to the Gallows and they hung him as the sun came up, which is the custom in the town of Bronson and no one there expected this was the last they'd hear of Lesser Thornapple and they were right.<br /><br /><strong>100 Years Later</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/stavas90-l.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/stavas90-l.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The night that Doctor Stavesacre and her assistant took Lesser from his grave it was raining and she was in one of her moods that Lesser would soon call her ‘bad hair days’.<br /><br />Only two things truly annoyed Azi Stavesacre.<br /><br />One of those things was not getting her way. The other was anything that kept her from getting her way. Tonight both things were nipping at her heels and she wasn’t angry, she wasn’t furious she was mad.<br /><br />Truly and strictly by definition: Mad. <br /><br />As in insane.<br /><br />“ How many of these things have we opened tonight Henbane?”<br /><br />Henbane looked over his shoulder and let out a sob and said, “ a lot Azi, an awful lot.”<br /><br />“ And this is the best we could do?" she asked as she pointed into the last grave.<br /><br />“ Its all we can do Azi, the rest of the graves were empty.”<br /><br />Azi Stavesacre, Dr Azi Stavesacre the type of Doctor you went to if you had a silver bullet lodged in you somewhere or a stake in your heart or you were burned or had been maimed and were about to die…yet again was not a patient woman.<br /><br />In fact she wasn’t a woman at all.<br /><br />But lets get on with Lesser’s story, shall we?<br /><br />Azi jumped down into the open grave and then she leaned over Lesser and carefully<br />pulled the shroud back from his upper body. “ Geeze Henbane, they didn’t even bother to cut the noose off. Look it’s still there.”<br /><br />Henbane looked down to where Azi was pointing and shook his head.” Now that’s just not dignified.”<br /><br />Azi straddled Lesser’s chest and pressed her knees against his shoulders.“ People are pathetic Henbane. There’s no two ways about it.”<br /><br />Then she cut off Lesser’s head.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/thornappel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/thornappel.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Lesser remembered Azi taking him to a little place in a town called Duwamish Bay and carefully handing him over to a small dark woman with short black hair. The woman’s name was Ignancia and he saw at once that Azi’s little rough edges and her general<br />unpleasant personality seemed to smooth out at least temporarily as the two women talked.<br /><br />Ignancia who was the owner of the Shop, which was full of curious items including a mummy and a three-headed cat in a jar, lifted him carefully up to the light and nodded. “Sure, we can clean him up I think he’ll do just fine for you Azi.”<br /><br />“He’s a hanged man Ignancia.”<br /><br />“ The condemned work harder, you know that Azi.”<br /><br />“ But they buried him with the noose still around his neck.”<br /><br />“ You don’t say.”<br /><br />“ I just did,”<br /><br />Ignancia lifted Lesser up to her face and her dark eyes looked down into his dead ones and she said; “ now that’s very curious. When he comes around see if you can get him to tell you why.”<br /><br />Lesser sat on the Doctor’s desk for over 10 years before he said one word and when he did Azi told him to shut up, she was working. He saw that yet another Were creature had been skewered with yet another silver arrow and the Werecat the Doctor was treating had already clawed Dr Stavesacre down the side of her face and had chewed off two of her fingers.<br /><br />It was a good thing Azi couldn’t bleed Lesser thought or the examination room would be full of those Vampires who were out in the waiting room suffering from Garlic Poisoning.<br /><br />So after ten years of saying nothing Lesser finally made a sound, and that sound sent Azi to her desk, dragging the were-cat by its neck with her.<br /><br />She opened her desk drawer and dropped Lesser into it.<br /><br />“ Bite me.” She snapped<br /><br />And from the drawer Lesser tried to do just that.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/thornappel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/thornappel.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Ignancia came by a few weeks later with her sister to invite Azi to tea. It was a tradition. They pretended to drink tea and act like ladies and when they were done they were usually drunk and Azi’s hazel eyes would turn to their natural shade of yellow and they would all pretend like they had the flu for the next few days.<br /><br />“So, how is Mr Thornapple working out for you?”<br /><br />Ignancia’ s sister Akela asked who was Thornapple and Azi said, “ The ungrateful dead man I rescued from an eternity of solitary confinement.”<br /><br />“ Oh, you cut off some poor bastard’s head so that you could turn him into your own private guard dog.”<br /><br />“Rescue.” Akela didn’t chuckle or snicker. When she laughed she really put effort into it “ you kill me Azi, you really do.”<br /><br />“ Well, he’s not working. That’s the problem. Lazy dog just sits on my desk and does he warn me that danger is near? Hell no. Let me make that clear to you ladies HELL NO. I had a Werecat go crazy when I tried to pull some silver out of it’s chest and look” Azi held up her hand, “ it doesn’t hurt when you loose them but it sure as heck does when they grow back. Then I had to deal with all those little beasts at the same time. <br />Damn kids.”<br /><br />“ What they do?”<br /><br />“ The Benandanti kids rubbed garlic all over the Hellebore’s shrouds and the Hellebore’s dropped Wolfsbane into the Benandanti’ s well.”<br /><br />“ Kid stuff…”<br /><br />“ Yes well, I had to deal with a bunch of rowdy teenage vampires and werewolves tearing my reception area apart as well as have an insane Werecat try to eat my arm<br />and does Thornapple say anything before Armageddon rides into my office?<br />No. Unless you count laughing as a word.”<br /><br />“ He laughed?”<br /><br />“ Loudly, very, very, very loudly.”<br /><br />Ignancia lowered her voice, “ what did you do to him?”<br /><br />“ Nothing…nothing. He’s in my desk drawer. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t touch him. Really!”<br /><br />Ignancia leaned back and nodded, “ I don’t believe you.”<br /><br />It's a fool who doesn't know their own friends and Ignancia Guzman was nobody's fool.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/stavas90-l.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/stavas90-l.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Azi was wrapped in a soft warm alcohol woven blanket when she stumbled into her office and pulled open her desk drawer. She reached in for Lesser and then dropped him down onto her desk from at least two feet up in the air and when he landed his teeth snapped together and then it was Azi’s turn to laugh.<br /><br />“ I’m supposed to apologize.” She slurred imperiously.<br /><br />Lesser’s black empty eye sockets seemed to be paying attention so she went on. “ It was wrong of me to dump you in the drawer, it was wrong of me to not even ask you your name. I’m sorry, okay?”<br /><br />“ You robbed my grave.”<br /><br />“ Oh, hell, there are worse things you can do the rob a grave like I don’t know, let me think…. oh yes here’s one Murder. That’s pretty darn bad too, isn’t it Lesser.”<br /><br />Azi dropped herself into her chair and scooted it up to her desk. She reached for Lesser and when they were nose to, well, eye to eye he said, “ I never killed anybody Azi. I was innocent.”<br /><br />He saw Azi sober up and felt her grip tighten around him. “ What?”<br /><br />“ I was innocent. I never killed anyone Azi, but I know who did those awful things<br />and I never told the truth. I couldn’t.”<br /><br />“ Damn it. That’s why you were down there still, you condemned yourself.”<br /><br />“ I don’t know anything about that.”<br /><br />“ Look, why’d they leave the rope around your neck. Do you know?”<br /><br />“ The Hangman knew I was innocent. But he didn’t want me to be. So he left the noose on.”<br /><br />Azi shook her head, “ People just mystify me Lesser, they really do.”<br /><br />“ When do you plan on asking me about the graves Azi, all of those empty graves. You haven’t mentioned them once.”<br /><br />“ I’m asking you now then, what happened to those graves. Why were they all empty?”<br /><br />“ A friend of yours moved to Mourning Ridge, did you know?”<br /><br />“ What friend?”<br /><br />“ Delphine Heller. She’s back Azi and I’m pretty sure she was tearing that cemetery apart because she was looking for…”<br /><br />Azi’s eyes didn’t flare or shine or glow deep orange and then yellow.<br /><br />They burned.<br /><br />“ Me.”<br /><br />That one word echoed lonely and hallow in the dark office and Lesser was surprised because if he had to name a truly shunned creature it wouldn't be Azi Stavesacre. Still from the way that one word sounded he wondered if she felt the same way he did when he realized he was about to be hung for the murders his own son committed and then blamed him for.<br /><br />Lesser Thornapple knew what if felt like to be abandoned. To be cast out so far you could never come back no matter how hard you tried.<br /><br />He wouldn’t wish that feeling on anybody…or anything.<br /><br />Lesser watched the face of the Witch Doctor and what surprised him was what he said next. “ Put me in the window Azi, I have work to do.”<br /><br /><em>And that Dear Readers is <strong>The beginning of my tale</strong>.<br />amm</em><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1144470656437399852006-04-07T21:28:00.000-07:002006-04-07T21:37:08.406-07:00DATURA MANZANILLO WALKS ALONE<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/maltbycem02.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/maltbycem02.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Datura Manzanillo walks alone and she started walking alone back in 1964.<br /><br />That was the year she murdered her husband because she got tired of him. <br /><br />She was tired of his jokes and the sound of his voice and the way he buttered his toast. <br /><br />That was the worst; the careful way he sliced that thin shaving of butter from the cube and the careful way he smoothed it over the bread, which was of course a certain shade of gold.<br /><br /> Nothing else would do. <br /><br />God she couldn’t stand it, he’d actually concentrate over those slices of bread the same way a heart surgeon would over an open chest. No, that’s going to far. The heart surgeon probably didn’t put that much effort or concentration into his work the Stewart did.<br /><br />So one morning after listening to him blah, blah, blah-she didn’t actually remember what he said because she’d learned to shut off the minute he opened his mouth years ago she saw him start his toast.<br /><br />“ God, no “ she said “ please not the toast, sweet Lord not the toast. I can’t take it anymore.”<br /><br />But Stewart, who was actually a nice person if you asked anybody else and really had no idea that a monster had been sleeping next to him for over 20 years thought she was teasing and he actually laughed. She remembered him asking her if she wanted some too and when she said yes and he turned away from her to reach for more bread Datura Manzanillo came up behind Stewart with a knife and she said, “ I wasn’t kidding Stewart.”<br /><br />And when Stewart turned around he saw how serious she was.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/2004CRManzanilloTree.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/2004CRManzanilloTree.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />There was a trial and Datura remembered the way the Jury tittered when the story about the toast came up. It didn’t matter though, it was a cheap laugh and in the end they sentenced her to death.<br /><br />If she had just stabbed Stewart to death they may have spared her life. But she’d cut and hacked and at some point nearly took off his head. The jurors didn’t laugh when they heard that. One looked positively green and the rest looked at her with pure unadulterated disgust.<br /><br />The jury only had a glimpse of the real Datura when they heard the details of her crime, poor Stewart saw her for what she was in all of her glory and if anyone thought a rope around her neck would end anyone having to suffer through that again they were woefully mistaken.<br /><br />Datura remembered her execution and she remembered when they cut her down from the hangman’s noose. “ Don’t let her fall, “ someone had said, “ if you drop her you get to clean up the mess “<br /><br />She remembered that no one came to her funeral and she remembered the way the Undertaker had looked into her flat dead eyes and said, “I sure wouldn’t want to be you right now. “<br /><br />" No, you wouldn't want to be me " she wanted to say back, but instead she smiled her dead woman's smile and then they buried her.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/2004CRManzanilloTree.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/2004CRManzanilloTree.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />She thought at least she’d go to Hell or something…but where did she end up? Right outside the cemetery they buried her in. She wondered if she would see Stewart and she guessed not. They wouldn’t bury him in the same place they buried her now would they?<br /><br />Datura Manzanillo spent years and years walking that short walk in front of the cemetery and she didn’t mind, though she did wonder why she was here and not anywhere else.<br /><br />Then one day it all changed<br /><br />She’d hung around for years, in all of that time she couldn’t actually see anyone but she could feel them…living people passing around her and by her and one day a woman actually stopped and turned around and she really saw Datura and Datura finally saw someone else.<br /><br />After that first time it happened more and more often.<br /><br />Datura eventually learned that only certain people with a certain little secret festering away at their brains and soul would see her. Those people popped out of thin air and she’d come up behind them and snicker into their ear, “ I know what you’re thinking, you silly goose and we can make it happen. Come on, let’s take a walk.”<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/2004CRManzanilloTree.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/2004CRManzanilloTree.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />It was difficult to say how time passed after Datura first talked to newfound friends and when it was she’d see them again. When she finally did see them they’d be leaving the cemetery and getting into these old fashioned paddy wagons being pulled by these gigantic black horses.<br /><br />As they’d pass her they’d spit or swear and more often then not she’d hear, “ thanks for the advice you bitch!”<br /><br />Datura would shrug and laugh and she’d start to do what she will be doing forever; she’s walking in front of that cemetery gate. So here’s a little useful advice; if you’re out walking one night and you're devoutly praying for someone close to you to drop dead and a little voice says,“ I know what you’re thinking, you silly goose and we can make it happen. Come on, let’s take a walk.”<br /><br />Don’t turn around and for heavens don’t stop and listen, Datura Manzanillo walks alone and she’s always looking for a little company.Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1144448238740127102006-04-07T15:16:00.000-07:002006-04-08T12:38:29.176-07:00THE UNQUIET GRAVE OF IRIS WINTERBARK<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/forest.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/forest.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Behind the building called the school house, under the hanging tree is the Unquiet Grave of Iris Winterbark. She was supposed to have been the teacher in that little schoolhouse and the twisted rotted oak tree out back is where she was suppose to have dispatched her more unruly students by hanging…either that or she was suppose to have hung them by their heals and burned them alive.<br /><br />This particular story came from a town called Deuil right here in the Olympics of Washington State…and morbid story about a demonic school teacher aside the real mystery is why, in what was considered a good sized town, there was there only one grave and no cemetery.<br /><br />When Deuil was founded there were 30 families living there- and it was exactly 30 families that were to disappear from there one day. <br /><br />No one could tell what day that was, or what year or if it happened slowly or all at once because nobody in the surrounding towns really had much to do with the residents of Deuil .<br /><br />For the most part they were shunned because most shocking of all to the somewhat narrow of mind and narrow of spirit of their neighbors was that some of the men and women of Deuil had taken Indians and other dark skinned people as their husbands and wives.<br /><br />And worst of all, no request had ever come from the Town of Deuil for a Minister to come out and visit them.<br /><br />It’s very famous, or infamous depending on your point of view, and most of the stories you’ll probably come across aren’t true, but the one about Iris Winterbark is.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/nighbl04-l.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/nighbl04-l.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Iris Winterbark showed up to teach school in April, she was small and thin and nobody liked her. It wasn’t because she was strict and she kept the razor strop on her desk that she could snatch up with lighting speed that you’d never think a woman her age was capable of, no it was because of something no one could put there finger on because it wasn’t easy to notice but it preyed on your mind like a starving wolf all the same.<br /><br />Iris Winterbark never seemed to take a breath and she never blinked.<br /><br />She would spend her teaching days looking out at her few dozen students with disgust because they were filthy little creatures that smelled like they never bathed and she would hiss out history lessons and math lessons and spelling lessons and geography lessons.<br /><br />The rest of the time her gaze and face was as slack and expressionless as a corpse’s face.<br /><br />That is until some unfortunate student made a mistake. Then those flat blue eyes would suddenly spark to life and her face would crack into a smile and bang! <br /><br />The strop would be in her hand and some poor slow pupil would be bleeding and Iris Winterbark would be at her desk again prim and still as a marble statue in a cemetery.<br /><br />Now every class has its odd student out and in this class it was a boy named Petty Morel.<br /><br />Petty had a hard time studying because he’d been sick for most of that spring and when he got well he wasn’t the same.<br /><br />He’d glare at his classmates and he’d glare at his parents and he’d glare right back at Miss Winterbark hardest of all. After failing an arithmetic lesson and after writing the correct answer 500 times on the blackboard and after Miss Winterbark had administered the strop Petty stood at the front of the class and dripped blood all over the shiny wood floor and said, “ you’re just an evil old witch.”<br /><br />And Miss Winterbark had said, “ There are no such things as witches Petty, but I’m very real and I would be very careful of what you said if I were you.”<br /><br />“ Then you’re not a witch? “ Petty had asked as a wide beautiful smile crossed his face.<br /><br />“ I most certainly am not.”<br /><br />“ I’m glad to hear that Miss Winterbark, I really am.” <br /><br />None of his classmates were paying attention to anything Petty and Miss Winterbark were saying. They were too busy watching the blood pool at Petty’s feet.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/nighbl04-l.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/nighbl04-l.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The next day Petty Morel walked up to Miss Winterbark’s desk after class and he asked her, “ is it true you hang people out behind the school house and they come back to life when you want them too.”<br /><br />“ No it isn’t.”<br /><br />“ Do you bury people alive?”<br /><br />“ I most certainly do not!”<br /><br />Petty almost looked disappointed, then he sighed.<br /><br />Petty stood in front of Miss Winterbark’ s desk with his hands folded behind his back and was about to say something more when Miss Winterbark slammed her hand on her desk and made Petty jump about six inches off the ground. “ I have never a group of such dull slow witted children as I have in this town. And look at those nails and your hair…. dirt and leaves in your hair. My goodness, what do you children do, sleep outside with the rest of the animals?”<br /><br /><br />“ I don’t sleep outside in the open, my Parents would never let me do that Miss Winterbark. Its not safe you know.”<br /><br />Then Petty watched the sun sink behind the window and he said with his sharp pointed white teeth “I’m so glad you’re not a witch Miss Winterbark, I really am. “<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/nighbl04-l.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/nighbl04-l.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Petty wasn't really worried about how angry his Mother was , he could deal with her being angry. It wasn't the same this time because his Mother was furious and she shook his arm so hard it made his teeth rattle. “ Who on earth is going to clean up this mess Petty Morel? “<br /><br />“ I am mother, “ he said. He around the blood spattered walls and what was left of Miss Winterbark on her desk and what was left of her under the window and over by the door and he sobbed, “This is the biggest mess I’ve ever seen in my life! It’s going to take me all night to clean up!”<br /><br />“ Well, being that you already ate all I can do is deny you dessert and playtime with your friends. This is very serious Petty, do you know how hard it is to get a teacher to come out to places like this?”<br /><br />“ I don’t know why we have to go to school at all, I don’t see why it matters anymore.”<br /><br />“ Listen to me Petty Morel, we maybe living out in the middle of nowhere in these godforsaken mountains, but our family has been well educated since we left our home in Transylvania and I see no reason now why that should stop. Do you understand me?”<br /><br />Then she handed him a shovel, gave him a good solid whack on his backside and she sent Petty out back to dig the only grave they ever really needed in the little town called Deuil.Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1144179628622271182006-04-04T12:39:00.000-07:002006-07-01T09:14:56.153-07:00THE STRANGE ADVENTURE OF OLIBANUM FRANKS WORD THIEF<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />It was snowing on the night Olibanum Franks disappeared from his cottage on the cliffs and Olibanum who thought electricity was an uncontrollable monster just waiting to strike him down lived alone in that house by lamplight.<br /><br />On that awful night there must have been some sort of accident with one of those lamps or maybe a candle because that little cottage on the cliffs burned down and from the valley below the burning trees looked just like the candles that Olibanum used to read by when the Sun went down.<br /><br />All they could do in the little village of Ninebones Cross was to watch and hope the fire didn’t spread down the hillside and take them the way it must have taken poor Olibanum up there on the cliffs.<br /><br />Four days later it was safe enough to go up to Olibanum’ s cottage and they didn’t find a trace of their friend; not a bone or a button or even the melted remains of the little silver rings he wore on his left hand.<br /><br />So with nothing to bury the Villagers wondered what kind of funeral should they hold for their friend and in the end they didn’t have a funeral because none of them really believed Olibanum was dead.<br /><br />He was just gone.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Of course Olibanum wasn’t really gone, but he knew if he didn’t get away from the crazy woman sitting in front of the computer soon he would be. <br /><br />Olibanum remembered the fire and he remembered the roof caving in on his head and he even remembered the smell of his own flesh beginning to burn.<br /><br />And then there was a bright light and he was lying on his back and looking up into the very unwell face of Tamara Osterick and when she smiled he knew he was in trouble.<br /><br />Lots and lots of trouble.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />At first Olibanum wouldn’t say a word, he went to the window and looked out into the strange world that this strange woman had brought him into. She lived in a tall building and the people and cars below were the size of children’s toys. But looking out into this awful world was much better then looking into the face of that awful monster that brought him here.<br /><br />He didn’t want her to talk to him; he didn’t want her to look him. Because when she did she got into his head and that was somewhere he wanted to keep her out of as long as he could.<br /><br />So as long as Olibanum’ s eyes were opened and he was looking around the woman at the computer wrote and the screen filled with words and images and she ignored him.<br /><br />She didn’t care that she was stealing from him…that she had stolen him from Kamala. She just wanted the words; no matter what she had to do she wanted the words for her own.<br /><br />He was nothing except for letters and words and punctuation marks to Tamara Osterick and that was how she treated him.<br /><br />It was only when he sat down and closed his eyes that she seemed to take notice of him. “ You’re not helping either one of us by refusing to cooperate Ollie.” She stopped typing and looked up at him and then she shuddered.<br /><br />“ Geeze, the first thing we’re going to change is that hair cut. Really, is that the best Kamala could come up with at the end of her long and prolific writing career? A crazy man who cuts his own hair and lives on a cliff and gets blamed for murders being committed by vampires? <br /><br />“ I’m not crazy. “<br /><br />“ Dude, you’re crazy she wrote you that way.”<br /><br />“ No, she didn’t.”<br /><br />Tamara laughed “ look at me, I’m arguing with a character a dead woman made up. Is that a riot or what Ollie?”<br /><br />And all Olibanum could do was back up against the wall and try not to panic. But it was hard too because that woman was about to murder him and there was nothing to stop her from doing it.<br /><br />Nothing.<br /><br />All he could think to say was “ Don’t call me Ollie.”<br /><br />But of course Tamara wasn’t listening.<br /><br />She was too busy stealing…and losing her mind.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Olibanum couldn’t know it but his world was gone; Ninebones Cross, his burned out cottage and all his friends. Gone and the woman sitting across from him was the reason why.<br /><br />There was no way for him to know, but he did and the quiet gentle man that lived on cliff in a small cottage and read by candlelight felt it…and then he began to change.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />He watched the screen fill up with words and words and more words and as they appeared Olibanum could feel himself becoming less. He could see his reflection in the mirror over Tamara’s couch and his hair was changing. It was lighter and longer and his eyes were dark green now. He held his hand up and saw that all of the silver rings Kamala had given him in her first book were gone. She’d written it into the story just for Olibanum because he had suffered so much in that story. As she ended the story she thought the gift of those little rings was the least she could do for him.<br /><br />He remembered the sound of her fighting with someone she thought of as EDITOR over what was called a “throw away scene.”<br /><br />He’d heard her yell, “ No, its staying in there. I know it doesn’t make sense! But if you take it out I take a walk and I take those four books you want with me!”<br /><br />And in the end the rings stayed and Olibanum had something in that forest of words that Kamala grew over 30 years of writing just for him.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Now Olibanum didn’t have his cottage on a cliff, he was being moved to an apartment and his hair was blond and neatly trimmed and he murdered women for fun. That’s what he picked up as the Monster re- wrote and butchered away at Olibanum’ s life.<br /><br />Tamara’s thoughts weren’t as clear as Kamala’ s. They were dark and twisted and Olibanum didn’t like them rolling around in his head. But the more she wrote the more clearly he could hear and see them.<br /><br />They were making him crazy.<br /><br />“ Will you answer just one question for me?” Olibanum asked, “ What happened to Kamala?”<br /><br />Tamara stopped typing and Olibanum saw her shoulders shake and he thought she was crying.<br /><br />“ Freak accident, she was electrocuted “ Tamara choked “ her radio fell into her tub and fried her up like calamari.” And then Tamara laughed so hard she vomited all over her desk.<br /><br />But she didn’t seem to care.<br /><br />She just kept laughing.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />So Olibanum’ s friends were dead and he was pretty sure his world was gone and pretty soon he would be gone too. Rewritten by this horrible woman and her dark thoughts. <br /><br />And then he got an idea, he was inspired and he realized it was probably Tamara’s idea so it wouldn’t be like murder at all.<br /><br />It was more like suicide.<br /><br />With that squared up and neatly justified in what was left of his eroding brain Olibanum asked Tamara “could you open the glass doors Tamara? I’d like to feel the night air before…you know. I change. Just one last time. Please. I’d open the door myself, but I might… I don’t know... break.”<br /><br />Olibanum held up his hand and Tamara could see both his hands were missing fingers and his left wrist had no flesh on it at all.<br /><br />Then Tamara looked up into Olibanum’ s changing face and she felt sorry for him. Until she was done writing he was going to look like a poorly made rag doll and that of course he might stay that way if she never finished her story.<br /><br />Oh well.<br /><br />She opened the door and went into the kitchen to get some supplies to clean up the mess on her desk. When she came back out into the living room Olibanum was gone.<br /><br />Tamara raced out onto the patio and looked down over the railing and then her feet left the ground and she was over the railing and as the ground rushed up to meet her Tamara's last thought was ‘ the world is melting”<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/OLIBANUM.4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/OLIBANUM.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The Villagers of Ninebones Cross found Olibanum wandering next to the remains of his burned out home. His face was scared and one of his eyes was gone but he was back and that was all that mattered.<br /><br />“ Where did you go Olibanum? What happened to you?” they all asked.<br /><br />And Olibanum said, <br /><br />“It was snowing on the night I disappeared from my cottage on the cliffs and because I thought electricity was an uncontrollable monster just waiting to strike me down I live in alone in that house by lamplight…”<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/kamala01-l.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/kamala01-l.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1143934486488736542006-04-01T15:33:00.000-08:002006-04-01T22:23:29.556-08:00The Strange Tale of Waldgrave Dahaka<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/mlf-skeleton-pd-05-kj002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/mlf-skeleton-pd-05-kj002.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><strong><em>In the Land of Standing Stones is a place called Mourning Ridge and when I was last there I learned the Strange Tale of Waldgrave Dahaka-enjoy!<br />amm</em></strong><br /><br />They found the last body on Mourning Ridge just before sundown<br /><br />The Sheriff was there and so was her deputy and Borgia Sainbury the Chief Undertaker of Mourning Ridge Cemetery and Funeral Home was there too. Borgia looked up at the Sheriff and said “ that makes 46”.<br /><br />The headless corpse had been tied to the ornate iron gate that separated Mourning Ridge Cemetery and Funeral Home from the rest of the world. It was a messy set of human remains and it was starting to attract flies that the women flicked away from their faces when one of the pests settled to close to their eyes.<br /><br />In the back seat of the Sheriff’s Jeep a set of dark red eyes glared at them and a voice called to them in a long dead language that they all understood, “ It wasn’t me! Do you hear me? It was him it was Abendroth Danvers! He’s back! Listen to me I’m innocent!”<br /><br />They all laughed as the sunset because no matter how you looked at it that was a pretty funny comment to be coming from a Demon.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/nightshade.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/nightshade.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />After he was booked and then convicted by the Sheriff and the Merchants Association of Duwamish Bay the Sheriff began as she had for years and years to prepare for the execution of her inmate.<br /><br />“ Do you have to do that in front of me? “ <br /><br />The Sheriff looked up and said, “ as a matter of fact I do Danvers. You know the rules. You’ve lived here long enough”<br /><br />“ I’m not Danvers, I’m Waldgrave, Waldgrave Dahaka. I’ve told you. I’m not Danvers. Not now anyway” and Waldgrave suddenly sounded so scared that Sarah almost dropped the metal sling and the rope in her hands.<br /><br />When she saw it was just Waldgrave she went back to work.<br /><br />“ Look Waldgrave. Answer me this… are those Danver's hands? Danver’s teeth? Well are they?”<br /><br />“ Yes they are.”<br /><br />“ Good then we understand each other. Those hands killed 46 people in the past four months and those teeth well, those teeth acted in the crimes too. That’s all I care about. You were in possession of those so you are responsible. Sorry.” Of course she didn’t sound sorry. It wasn’t a Warden or a Sheriff’s job to feel sorry.<br /><br />“ Listen to me, Danvers is coming back. I couldn’t stop him.”<br /><br />“ Oh, and I’m sure you tried very hard to do that.”<br /><br />“ Yes I did Sheriff. I don’t care what you think of me but that’s the truth. I like it here. I don’t want to leave. I wouldn’t have done anything to endanger myself or my home here.”<br /><br />Then Waldgrave saw what the Sheriff had in her hands and he looked up and whispered, “ my neck…you’re going to break my neck.” He could barely whisper the words. Then he turned away from her and slid to the floor cradling his head in his hands “ I can’t believe this. Its not right”<br /><br />“ Listen Waldgrave…46. Four – Six, 17 were from Duwamish Bay. That wasn’t right either.”<br /><br />“ 98.” He said dully.<br /><br />“ What?”<br /><br />“98” Waldgrave told her, “ You forgot to check Lake Undercroft. It’s 98”<br /><br />And so it was.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/nightshade.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/nightshade.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The next night Sheriff Guzman and her Deputy prepared Waldgrave for his execution. <br /><br />When they were done tattooing his face and after they had cut off his left hand Sarah and her Deputy drove him out to Lost Harbor Road and to the oak tree they kept out there for nights just like this one.<br /><br />Next to Waldgrave on the seat, and it was Waldgrave in the Jeep that night because Danvers was unusually quiet, was the rope and sling, a burlap bag dotted with small red stains and a small stone box and of course the ax.<br /><br />Waldgrave looked out of his window so that he didn’t have to look at what was on the seat next to him. He watched the Harbor Gorge fill with unnaturally blue moonlight and he knew the air outside the car was turning fetid and humid. It always did on execution nights. He asked “ My neck, you know what will happen if you break my neck before you execute me. “<br /><br />“ That’s the idea.”<br /><br />“ But I didn’t commit those murders, Danvers did. The very most I’m guilty of is demonic possession and that wouldn’t even get me life in Sawajinn. You could even have my sentence commuted to Fallen. Why are you doing this? “<br /><br />The Sheriff slammed the brakes on and before the vehicle was at a full stop she was outside of the Jeep and throwing open the back door. She reached in for Waldgrave and pulled him out and threw him up against the car hard enough to shatter the bulletproof window. “ Do you honestly want me to believe that a demon clever enough, strong enough to hide in the same body for over 100 years was powerless to stop a mortal, a flesh and blood mortal from killing 98 people? Its bull and you know it Waldgrave.”<br /><br />“ It’s the truth Sarah. It’s the <em>truth</em>!” He tried to pull his face away from Sarah’s teeth and when he did his neck came close to Sarah’s mouth. He almost saved her the trouble of execution when that happened because his heart nearly exploded in his chest.<br /><br />“ They’re mortal Sarah, they’re not stupid and they’re much stronger then any of us give them credit for. You’re executing me because you’re afraid. You all are. Because if one psychotic human could best me that means all of you…all of us aren’t as safe as we’d like to think we are here in Duwamish Bay. Killing me won’t change that. “<br /><br />Then the Sheriff reached through the open door, grabbed the ax and swung it down.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/nightshade.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/nightshade.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />It was Waldgrave and Waldgrave alone who finished the ride to Fallen Penitentiary that foggy night.<br /><br />When Sarah looked into her rearview mirror the face that looked back at her from the back seat wasn’t a twisted demonic face, it didn’t have horns or red skin or a forked tongue.<br /><br />Waldgrave Dahaka looked middle aged and ordinary and he had very straight white teeth. Of course his eyes were blood red and when he talked the air seemed to chill slightly but in Duwamish Bay it wasn’t polite to point things like that out.<br /><br />So Sarah didn’t.<br /><br />“I’ve decided Sawajinn isn’t appropriate for you in this case” Sarah heard Waldgrave catch his breath and she could hear him saying something, or was he crying? It was hard to tell. She’d never heard a Demon make a sound like that before.<br /><br />“ It’s 500 years in Fallen Waldgrave and that’s firm. You’ve been convicted of the Crime of Demonic Possession. I took off 100 as time served.”<br /><br />“ Thank you Sheriff, thank you.” Waldgrave told her.<br /><br />As they drove up to the darkened barred windows of Fallen and the dark figures of the Wardens walked towards the car Sarah told Waldgrave, “ I’m sending Danver’s heart to Sawajinn, it’s the most I can do for you and it’s the best I can do for his victims. I mean he’s going to rot in a prison designed for, well, the kind of people that live in Duwamish Bay. You couldn’t pay me enough to <strong>watch</strong> what’s going to happen to him there. Still it’s 98 dead, but if you wouldn’t have been there…who knows how much worse it could have been.”<br /><br />Then Sarah asked and you could hear that she probably already knew what Waldgrave was going to say “answer me this Waldgrave, was Danvers human?”<br /><br />“ I’m sure of it.”<br /><br />Sarah grimaced and Waldgrave wasn’t sure if she was reacting to the Wardens or what he said.<br /><br />Waldgrave leaned back and nodded. “ I’m afraid” the Demon told the Sheriff as the Wardens came for him.<br /><br />Sarah was looking far away into the darkness and she thought of that dark human heart that shouldn’t exist being taken to the dark Prison at the end of the world and she said, “ we all are Waldgrave, we all are.”Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1142785438493230782006-03-19T08:23:00.000-08:002006-03-20T12:07:26.603-08:00DIARY OF DELIRIUM<em><strong>The strange history of Riversleigh Manor can be found in letters tied together with ribbon and human hair. It’s been written in bold and spidery script in diaries that were hidden between floorboards. It has also been found in the paintings hanging on its walls and in boxes and trunks in the attics and basements.<br /><br />In some cases the history of the Dark Manor has been captured in the cemetery located behind the Chapel and in the Catacombs hidden beneath the Manor.<br /><br />So have a seat, lock your doors, turn up the lights and check under your bed. This is the Diary of Delirium...or The Strange History of Riversleigh Manor.</strong></em><br /><br /><br />Page from a Diary used as a bookmark in an atlas:<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/incunablea.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/incunablea.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><em><strong>I found this diary in the rooms that the Residents of Riversleigh call “ The School Room”<br />They said the woman who stayed up there was Mad…or that’s what happened to her in the end.<br />Interesting Reading</strong></em><br /><br />January 6, 1906<br /><br />I've left my home, which is dark and full of secrets and treasures to stay here at Riversleigh Manor where it is just dark.<br /><br />No matter what you do it's always so dark.<br /><br />I found the basements comforting and I've found the attics...well they found me the night I arrived.<br /><br />We’ve become friends.<br /><br />I think the Attics were once used as schoolrooms but I wonder at what the students were being taught here; I wonder why the doors have locks and door handles on the outsides of the doors and none on the inside.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/skeletons.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/skeletons.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I wonder why it is the windows are barred and why the fireplace is always warm despite the fact it is choked full of dust and weeds and spider’s webs.<br /><br />I wonder what it is I hear between the floorboards and inside the walls. I wonder why the shadows have to many arms and legs and heads.<br /><br />Yes I wonder…and I think I’m going to like it here, I do believe I’ll make myself at home.<br /><br />I think I belong here.<br /><br />I think I have no choice.<br />GHM<br /><br /><em><strong>The other Residents have told me that Riversleigh is a "warm and fuzzy place" (my quote)so of course I made no friends when I asked if that's true then why is it set so far apart from the rest of the world? And what on Earth happened to the Woman in the Attics? I’ve noticed no one refers to her in the past tense. It’s like she’s still up there.<br /><br />Strange Strange Place.<br />amm</strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em> Midnight Conversation in Riversleigh Manor</em> </strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/Img_7201.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/Img_7201.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />There’s something buried in the Gardener’s Shed and why would someone bury something that wasn’t dead yet?<br /><br />The thing in the shed isn’t buried very deep, so if you were to crawl over the dead fall in front of the door and were able to push your way through he matted cobwebs and you didn’t mind the smell of rotting leaves and small unburied creatures you’d see there under the window a slightly raised mound of earth.<br /><br />Were you to look at the raised mound long enough and the light somehow managed to find it’s way through the little panes of glass covered with dust and dirt you’d think someone was lying there on their side with one arm cradling their cheek and the other laying comfortably on their side.<br /><br />Wouldn’t you?<br /><br />If you brought a flashlight and the beam was bright you might think you could see something wrong with the entire left side of the sleeping figure’s face. You might think that maybe that the face was gone, smashed in by something like that shovel in the corner.<br /><br />Isn’t that right?<br /><br />They might wonder what you were doing back there in a rotting shed behind the Manor House in the dead of Night, they might see you take the shovel and try to smooth and pound that little raised mound of Earth flat.<br /><br />That’s what they’d see wouldn’t they?<br /><br />So I must ask you again, why would you bury something that is not dead yet? Go ahead you can tell me. Just keep your hands were I can see them.<br /><br /><strong><br /><em>A LITTLE NIGHT MADNESS FROM RIVERSLEIGH</em></strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/698.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/698.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Do you know what’s buried under Riversleigh Manor? Do you know why it gets so dark there at night even when the lights are on and blazing?<br /><br />All you have to do is follow the shadows. <br /><br />Just don’t let them know you’re watching.<br /><br />At nightfall the shadows break away from the corners and come from under the beds and out of the closets and they creep and crawl and hiss along the cold hardwood floors. They pass over sleeping faces and pull at hands and feet silly enough to stray from under heavy blankets and quilts sewn by women dead for over a hundred years.<br /><br />They search the attics and basements and linger over places like the front hall where Mrs. Undercroft was found dead and cold with small purple flowers clutched in one hand and more of them falling from her lips.<br /><br />They pass quietly over the desk where Mr Undercroft took the life of his daughter Elizabeth. He crushed the back of her skull with a small stone gargoyle carved from marble and he held it against her wound as it fed.<br /><br />Then the shadows move to the attics where Mrs. Undercrofts daughter Bedelia was kept. The darkness liked Bedelia Undercroft and spent hours with her as she gave reading and math and music lessons to children born from Bedelia’s insane and unstable mind.<br /><br />There were no children with Bedelia in that room.<br /><br />That’s what the residents of Riversleigh would say; there were no children up there with Bedelia.<br /><br />They’d cover their ears and chant over and over “ there are no children up there, there are no children up there”. They said that louder when they heard the laughing and chuckling and small voices dutifully repeating Bedelia’s lessons.<br /><br />Bedelia gave art lessons to her Phantom school children and their dark and twisted images of screaming faces and twisted bodies with to many or not enough limbs were tacked to the walls under little green tiles decorated with the alphabet and ducks.<br /><br />But the darkness knew those little students that attended Bedelia’s classes, and it was the darkness that took the students away when their lessons were done. Even the Manor’s soon to be gardener Mr Eramus Undercroft (at the time he was simply known as Uncle Eramus) would stop by and watch Bedelia teach her little pupils about bones and hearts and curses and poisons and fear.<br /><br />Mr Eramus Undercroft who took lives and souls for the pure pleasure of the act (and he knew several dark acts) was stunned and humbled by the wealth of knowledge Miss Bedelia had at her fingertips.<br /><br />And then one day after giving a long and difficult lesson in something Bedelia called<br />Sin Eating the carpet under her feet began to buckle and twist and she was pulled down through floors and then the ceilings over and over again until she reached the foundation of Riversleigh.<br /><br />“ Bedelia, Bedelia teach me what you know,” something said into her ear.<br /><br />Bedelia couldn’t really answer because her mouth was full of sour dark earth. But she opened her mouth and from the back of her throat she hissed, “ yesss… I'd love too.”<br /><br />And she taught Riversleigh everything she knew.<br /><br />She hasn't stopped teaching Riversleigh and she never will.<br /><br />So now you know what’s buried under Riversleigh and that’s why it’s so dark there no matter how many lights are blazing.<br /><br />Aren't you glad you asked?<br /><br /><strong><br />MORE CONVERSATIONS BY MOONLIGHT</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/root.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/root.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I came to the Gardens of Riversleigh with the Shadows.<br /><br />I’ve brought a present for this place.<br /><br />Look here….<br /><br />In my hand I hold these seeds.<br /><br />I robbed them from Corpses and Witches, Ghouls and Ghosts. I’ve sailed cursed ships and traveled through airless catacombs to find them. <br /><br />They are mine and I’ve traveled to dark, dark places to find them…to bring back each one.<br /><br />It wouldn’t be fun to keep them all to myself. I’ve brought them back here to share.<br /><br />I’ve come a long way to share them all.<br /><br />The Nightshade and Wolfsbane, Mandrake and Thistles and Weeds. The inspire me, they speak to me they are beautiful to me. I want to make them all live. Each and every one of them.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/wolfsbane.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/wolfsbane.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><strong><em>TEA TIME IN RIVERSLEIGH</em></strong><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/tea_plant.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/tea_plant.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Riversleigh Manor isn’t just a house and it isn’t named for the River that runs below it that dried up and died years ago. <br /><br />It was named for a family called Riversleigh.<br /><br />The person who know this story best is named Acantha Deverell<br />and she takes her tea at Riversleigh Manor by Moonlight. If you’re really curious about Riversleigh and most of the guests here are you could join her and ask her about the Riversleigh Family.<br /><br />Acantha is always dressed in black and she sits alone in the library<br />every night as she sips her hot poisonous drink and nibbles on her deadly dessert and admires the little fine bone china cup crafted by her own hand at her Father’s request.<br /><br />The request came one dark winter many years ago on the night Mr Riversleigh rode out to Deverell Hall and demanded to see Mr Albido Deverell.<br /><br /> Mr Riversleigh stood in the Great Hall and called out over and over again until Albido appeared right behind him where he was warming his hands over a cold dark fire in the massive marble fireplace.<br /><br />“ Mr Riversleigh what on earth would bring you out on night like this? What am I saying? What on Earth could get you to leave the Manor at all?”<br /><br />Faxon Riversleigh could barely speak, “ you know why I’m here and I want you to do something about it. That new Sheriff from that town down the river in Duwamish Bay, she’s the reason I’m here. She knows about us and she’s coming for us all.”<br /><br />Albido Deverell smiled, and Faxon backed up and away from those jagged pointed teeth “ she’s from the Sawajinn Family and my friend there is no getting away from them. Not for people like us. “<br /><br />“ I don’t care what family she’s from, get rid of her.”<br /><br />“ And why should I bring the Law and the Warden of Sawajinn into my house Riversleigh when you’re the one with the bodies. My heavens man they’re in the walls and below the floorboards and the River…how on Earth did you manage to kill that?”<br /><br />“ I did it for you Deverell, I fed you and this nest of creatures you have as a family. “<br /><br />“ And in return Riversleigh…oh the things you’ve received in return have you forgotten them? You handed me flesh and bone and in return<br /> I handed you gold and jewels and art and immortality Riversleigh. Don’t forget that my friend… the immortality. Nothing can kill you, you and yours will never die.”<br /><br />“ Oh thank you so much for that, my insane children, my wife has <br />turned into a living corpse that spends her time in the catacombs<br />below my home thanks you so much for that. “<br /><br />“ You’re welcome. I’ve always liked Elizabeth.”<br /><br />Riversleigh would have liked to twist Deverell’s head right off of his shoulders and he would have if he thought it would have made a difference. <br /><br />“ The Warden only comes for things that bring attention to Duwamish Bay. She’s ready to take us all to Sawajinn and I have to say, I’m not anxious to go back there. So I’ve made a deal of sorts with her” Deverell sounded very pleased with himself.<br /><br />“ With the Warden?”<br /><br />Deverell wasn’t smiling now “ a most unpleasant creature to deal with. She was no sport at all. We’ve come to an arrangement.”<br /><br />“ What’s going to happen to us? “<br /><br />“ She wants assurance that you and your family never leave Riversleigh. If I can keep my end of the bargain she won’t take me back to Sawajinn. That foul beast assured me she would take me back piece by piece and to prove her point she killed my wives and staff right in front of me.” Deverell actually choked up and cried out in agony “Do you have any idea Riversleigh how hard it is to find good help now days? “<br /><br />Riversleigh knew it was pointless to yell or run or beg so he just asked, “ are you going to kill us Deverell?”<br /><br />“ The deal Riversleigh is to keep you in your house and I think I’ve found a way to do that, in fact I’ve started already.”<br /><br />There was a mound of ash at least four feet high in the massive stone fireplace and Riversleigh saw scattered around the fireplace lttle gold and silver buttons and small bits of bone.<br /><br />“ My daughter Acantha is a talented artist Riversleigh and she’s been away learning a new craft. I must say I found it a bit unappetizing but we do what we can to support those we love. Don’t we? She’s learned to make something called Bone China. Have you heard of it?”<br /><br />Riversleigh shook his head and the floor dropped from beneath his feet.<br /><br />“Go down to the basement where she works Riversleigh I think you’re going to be amazed at what you can create from a little ash and sand.”<br /><br />Three months later Acantha brought a set of beautiful bone china teacups and a lovely teapot to Riversleigh Manor. Mrs. Clark, the housekeeper, allowed Acantha into the Manor and she watched as the young woman carefully set the table for tea.<br /><br />“ It’s a shame Mrs. Riversleigh isn’t here to see this, I don’t know where the family is. You know how they are Miss Deverell, they said they’d never leave this place.”<br /><br />The delicate cups sat in a ring around the teapot and Mrs. Clark saw that there was one for each member of the family. They were painted with small purple flowers and little raised bumps that looked like eyes rimmed the saucers.<br /><br />They were strange little things but all the same the Housekeeper felt her hands twitch and she was about to reach for one of the cups when she thought she heard Mrs. Riversleigh calling out. Or could it have been one of the girls? How faint and at the same time how close their voices sounded!<br /><br />Then the sounds were gone.<br /><br />Acantha brought one of the little cups to her cheek and smiled “ They’re closer then you think Mrs. Clark. Would you care to join us for tea? “Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1139368054708596552006-02-07T19:05:00.000-08:002006-02-12T10:52:18.833-08:00STORIES FROM FARAWAYBEWARE OF FARAWAY<br /><br />Hidden from the safe roads and safe streets and quiet parks and green forests and the sunlight is my hometown...its called Faraway and no one comes here on purpose.<br /><br />Maybe it's because everything here is covered with dust...the people, houses buildings trees and plants. I guess it could be because no one speaks loudly here, no one is awake here. Faraway is the place where nightmares live and once you've been to Faraway you can never really belong anywhere else again.<br /><br />So what do we do here, Faraway from the rest of the world? <br /><br />When the sunsets we like to go out to the Middle of the Desert where the Wells of Angra Lei are and we drop stones down into them and listen to them fall and fall and fall and sometimes we swear you can hear them hit the bottom...but of course that's not true.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/pb17.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/pb17.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />These Wells have never held water and they are out here, away from anything alive for a reason.<br /><br />The air that comes up from the Wells of Angra are so poisonous one whiff could melt your heart in your chest and your poor eyes would run like rivers down your cheeks. Nothing has ever come up from those wells except for Death...and why should that surprise you? <br /><br />It has to come from somewhere...Death you see comes from Faraway.<br /><br />My Mother use to visit the Wells during the daylight, she would lean over the sides and whisper things down into the Wells and sometimes she would laugh and sometimes she would curse but she did it by daylight.<br /><br />She was also very, very insane.<br /><br />She was you see, from Faraway and nothing here is familiar or safe. Nothing Faraway is what you think it is.<br /><br />Living in Faraway will change you.<br /><br />Being from Faraway will damn you.<br /><br />Like it did to my Mother…and what it did to me.<br /><br />And what it will do to you, if you’re not careful of Faraway.<br /><br /><strong>FARAWAY AT MIDNIGHT</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/411412931mFjVmn_ph.2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/411412931mFjVmn_ph.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />There is a woman who is voiceless from wailing and wasted from weeping and Death visits her from Faraway at Midnight.<br /><br />Death finds her in her Garden, her long dead garden tending to weeds and thorns and sticker bushes and poisonous plants and as she harvests and picks and adds each deadly plant to her basket woven from human hair Death shudders and hides in the Shadows and is grateful the Woman can’t see him.<br /><br />All the same she knows Death is there and when she senses it, she reaches into her basket and lifts one of the plants to her lips and pushes it into her mouth. She chews and swallows and screeches into the darkness, “ Where are you? Why isn’t these working…someone tell me why this isn’t working! “<br /><br />Death would squeeze it’s eyes shut if it had eyes, so instead it raises it’s pale cold hand to it’s empty eye sockets and covers it’s face the best it can. It’s fingers press against it’s mouth and it does this to keep from calling out, from screaming because the Woman who is voiceless from wailing and wasted from weeping is a corpse and a shell and once long ago she murdered a man.<br /><br />He was the Husband of a Woman who came from a place called Sawajinn, a place that Time and Death and Life avoided at all costs, because a visit there would cost the traveler everything. <br /><br />Everything.<br /><br />The former resident of Sawajinn cursed the woman over her husband’s poisoned body and her curse was simple and horrible.<br /><br />The Weeping Woman would never die; she would never meet her own Death. <br /><br />Instead she was cursed to meet her victim’s Death.<br /><br />His Death comes from Faraway every night at Midnight and watches her from the upper branches of a dead twisted oak tree. Of course his Death can’t take her, it only visits her and then it leaves her at each sunrise.<br /><br />Before it leaves Death shows her something it carries in its left hand.<br /><br />It shows her a small bottle of white powder and it holds it up and the Woman sees it. She knows what it is, the little bottle once belonged to her, after all.<br /><br />She puts her hands out and calls, “ Please, please give it to me, take me with you. I can’t live like this anymore! “<br /><br />Death can see her in the half light and it can see the maggots and flies tangled in her hair, crawling from the corners of her eyes. It can smell her flesh rotting on her bones and it can hear the skin on her legs and back splitting apart.<br /><br />I’m not your death. But I’ll visit you, I’ll never stop visiting you.”<br /><br />“ I can’t” it sighs.<br /><br />And as the Sunlight works it’s way into the shadows cast by deadly sweet blossoms and fragrant green leaves dripping with deadly venom Death leaves for Faraway and the woman who is voiceless from wailing and wasted from weeping begins her wait for Death to visit at Midnight.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/pb17.2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/pb17.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><strong>NIGHTFALL FROM FARAWAY</strong><br /><br />In my hometown, which is a place called Faraway, a man named Mr. Nightfall stands under a pear tree full of light green poisonous fruit and waits for the Sun to set.<br /><br />Mr. Nightfall is my neighbor and our streets, like all the other streets in Faraway are lined with deadly fruit trees and deadly gardens. All these dark shady places are kept and tended by people with pale faces and empty eyes and here in our town Faraway no one is Sane and no one really lives because no one is really alive.<br /><br />When Mr. Nightfall comes from Faraway sometimes he brings storms and in that wildness all you'll see, all you'll hear is Mr. Nightfall. You'll know he's coming and worst of all you won't be able to stop him.<br /><br />When Mr. Nightfall crosses your path and he settles over your town you'll know he's there because your skin will start to feel to tight and you won't be able to pull air into your lungs.<br /><br />Everything will seem...very Faraway.<br /><br />That' when you'll know Mr. Nightfall is close enough to put out his cold, dark hand and lay it over your shoulder.<br /><br />Once I followed Mr. Nightfall to a city with stores and cars and a coffee stand where the woman who served me wore a picture on her chest of a creature with stars in her hair. I asked if the creature in the picture was from the Well of Angra Lei and the Woman squeezed the cup of coffee so tight at the sound of my voice that the top popped off and the scalding hot coffee filled her eyes and mouth and she didn't cry out. Not even a little<br /><br />The woman had turned to stone, her face was frozen into a mask and her eyes had rolled up into her head and I could hear her someplace deep inside screaming and screaming and screaming and she will never stop.<br /><br />They never do when they are taken Faraway.<br /><br />Mr. Nightfall didn' come back for me, he never turns back but he did call out to me and I followed him through the town and the entire time he cursed and spat and hissed like one of the cats that' not really a cat from back home in Faraway and he said, "They know I'm coming." <br /><br />"Of course they know you're coming Mr. Nightfall, don’t they always?"<br /><br />"No, not like this they haven't known me like this for centuries I don't like this Miss Praecox. No I don't like it at all."<br /><br />This time the people in this little town by the sea knew Mr. Nightfall was coming. There were candles in windows and there wasn't a soul on the street. They were locked behind doors and the curtains where drawn and they knew they were very aware Nightfall was coming.<br /><br />As Mr. Nightfall crossed the city I stopped here and there and looked in windows and when I could I found people and I touched them, carefully, quietly with my left hand and I told them my name and their minds stopped liked old clocks.<br /><br />I could hear it loud as thunder as gears and cogs and wheels that turn their minds<br />ground to a halt and I could hear what they took with them to Faraway.<br /><br />My name.<br /><br />" Enjoying your visit Miss Praecox?"<br /><br />" I always do Mr. Nightfall."<br /><br />He reached out to pat me on the head and thought better of it, " Just like you're Mother, we were a team in our day to. We worked well together.<br /><br />The Praecox have always done their best work with Nightfall."<br /><br />" So what's happened here Mr. Nightfall, where is everyone?"<br /><br />He held a newspaper up and showed it to me. I couldn't read it of course and he ran a cold dark finger under the headline and read it to me.<br /><br />" Hurricane Force Winds Strike Seattle, Power Outages State Wide, locals ready for Nightfall and freezing temperatures. They were ready for me this time. Lord I hate the press"<br /><br />" Killjoys" I said with feeling.<br /><br />" Well, there's always tomorrow, isn't there Miss Demetia Praecox?"<br /><br />I agreed because everyone knows Nightfall comes from Faraway and sometimes it brings madness with it and it always will.<br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/nicotiana.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/nicotiana.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><em><strong>a strange chapter from the strange history of Riversleigh Manor</strong></em><br /><br /><br />Mr. Eramus Undercroft tends the cemetery in a place called Faraway.<br /><br />He’s the Chief Gravedigger, the Lead Mortician and sometimes the Sole Mourner and Mr Undercroft smiles no matter what his duties are on any given day.<br /><br />This is Mr Undercroft's Home and he always welcomes visitors.<br /><br />So go ahead and take a walk down that little white gravel path that runs like an artery choked with blood through this dark place in Faraway and you will come to a chapel with no windows that sits in the back of Mr Undercroft’s Cemetery.<br /><br />It's hidden among the nightshade and Wolfsbane and bright white flowers that smell faintly of smoke and no matter the time of day it's always Nightfall here.<br /><br />After you've made your way this far go ahead and enter the vestibule and you might see a dark blue casket with bright silver handles sitting all alone in the center of the Windowless Chapel.<br /><br />If you are feeling overly confident go inside the Chapel itself and look down into the the casket and laying there in his finest, blackest funeral wear is a tall thin man who’s pale thin hands are crossed over his narrow airless chest.<br /><br />That man is Mr. Eramus Undercroft.<br /><br />Let me prepare you; he will be smiling and his eyes are shut but you know he can see you all the same.<br /><br />Once long ago before Mr. Eramus Undercroft came to Faraway he lived in a town called Riversleigh.<br /><br />He tended the gardens at Riversleigh Manor until the day the Servants all disappeared and upon discovering “ something horrible in the Shed” the Riversleigh<br />Family was scared enough to leave their home in the darkness and by foot to the next town which was twenty miles away.<br /><br />The only living thing they found was Mr Undercroft standing alone in his Gardener’s Shed smiling.<br /><br />The headlines of the town’s newspaper declared:<br /> " Where are the Servants of Riversleigh? "<br /> The mysterious question has been answered by<br /> Grisly Find in the Gardner's Shed...<br /><br /><br />“ What did you do to them Mr. Undercroft?” the Law had asked, “ What did you do to all 35 of those poor Souls?”<br /><br />Mr. Undercroft opened his hand and dropped something onto the table and smiled his cadaverous smile and said, “ Why I sent them Faraway.”<br /><br />On the table were teeth, 7 teeth and from then on for a very long time Riversleigh Manor was called “The House of the Seven Teeth” and no one locked the doors of Riversleigh<br />Because nobody would go near the house that went on living after everyone in it had died.<br /><br />Eventually Mr. Undercroft went Faraway too, but before he left he stayed for a short time in a place called the Prefontaine Asylum for the Criminally Insane in a town called Ravenswood.<br /><br />When the staff there disappeared and the Patients were found wandering the treacherous hillsides it was quickly noticed that all two hundred of them were all missing their left eye the people of Ravenswood decided it would be best to not go looking for Mr. Eramus Undercroft.<br /><br />They hoped and hoped he was Faraway…and he was.<br /><br />That was long ago and now in the shade and fog shrouded village of Faraway Mr. Eramus Undercroft drives a black hearse that is so dark it’s invisible when the sunsets and the sun always sets when it knows Mr. Undercroft is out. He digs graves and feasts on the poisonous fruits that grow in Faraway and when it rains the little droplets of water hiss against his skin.<br /><br />Mr. Undercroft’s best friend is a man called Mr. Nightfall and when he’s lonely he calls on Miss Praecox and they picnic in the ruined Cemetery Mr. Undercroft calls home.<br /><br />Across the street from the Cemetery is a little house painted light blue.<br /><br />It looks empty and should be empty but of course it’s not.<br /><br />It's the home Mr.Anthropophagite and Mr. Undercroft has admired Mr.Anthropophagite for a very long time. He just wishes that his pale friend wouldn't do his own special brand of gardening at the Cemetery.<br /><br />When the Wardens of Sawajinn come to Faraway in search of Mr.Anthropophagite who lives there inside the Blue House of Shadows it’s Mr. Undercroft who sends them away with little cloth bags full of presents from Mr. Undercrofts days at Prefontaine.<br /><br />Nowadays Mr. Eramus Undercroft rides out in his dark black hearse at Midnight and he looks for things to take Faraway.<br /><br />When he brings them back he turns them loose in Faraway and sometimes he buries them and sometimes he feasts on them and the juices turn his teeth black and make his eyes<br />Water and the tears eat away at his face like acid.<br /><br />Mr Eramus Undercroft is the Chief Gravedigger and Funeral Director in Faraway and he buries the things best forgotten, the things you hope are Faraway.<br /><br />Only sometimes for fun and it amuses him every single time Mr Eramus Undercroft brings them back from Faraway.<br /><br />When his passengers leave his car and swarm and ruin and corrupt everything in their paths you will hear in every storm, fire, war, and plague ridden town he visits...one sound above all the rest.<br /><br />It’s screaming you'll hear, and if you listen close you will find it’s not many voices its always one voice and it is not screaming it's laughing.<br /><br />That’s the sound of Mr Eramus Undercroft from Faraway.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><img src="http://pic2.picturetrail.com/VOL1017/4092147/9212006/128887233.jpg" alt="Image Hosting by PictureTrail.com" border="0" /><br /><br /></span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><blockquote><span style="font-size:85%;">The Wicked Midnight Garden<br /></div> <div style="text-align: center;">by Heather Blakey</span></blockquote></div><br /></div>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13207461.post-1133629095535100272005-12-03T08:57:00.000-08:002005-12-03T08:58:15.613-08:00Heart Of The Gravamina<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/head.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/head.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><em><br /><strong>Gravamina: The part of a charge or an accusation that weighs most substantially against the accused.</strong></em><br /><br /><br />I’m sailing to the End of The World on a ship called Gravamina, and she’s perfect for this Journey because she knows Death.<br /><br />She is herself as dead as the Black Waters I sail across, as dead as the Crew that still haunt her decks and tend to her needs. She is as Dead as the Corpses that lie in the Catacombs I stole her compass from a week ago.<br /><br />“ Finding the Gravamina won’t be as hard for you as it is for others. You’ll need the Heart of The Gravamina to find the Caravanserai,” the Hanged Man’s Skull whispered to me from his shelf in my library. “ But tell me, why do you want to join the Caravanserai?”<br /><br />I walked to the shelf and turned the sectioned skull towards me and looked into his empty eyes and said, “ Because I’m tired of you, I’m tired of this house and I’m very tired of pretending to be something I’m not.”<br /><br />“ You trail Death behind as if it were a train on a woman’s gown Azi Dahaka. When the Caravanserai become wise to you…they’ll destroy you and then you’ll join me here on this shelf and we’ll have nothing for company except each other’s Sins.<br /><br />I took the Hanged Man’s Skull from the shelf and wrapped it carefully in linen decorated with a language no living person has ever spoken. “ You wish,” I told it. Then with the Skull, and nothing else in my possession I went into the world to find the Heart of The Gravamina.<br /><br />The Hanged Man’s Skull told me on our long journey to the Catacombs about the Heart of The Gravamina and why it entombed and the rest of the Gravamina rots in a Grotto below the City.<br /><br />Then he told me to listen because the Heart of The Gravamina doesn’t beat like a drum.<br /><br />The Heart of the Gravamina screams.<br /><br />“All Ships are alive, you know that Azi Dahaka and the Gravamina was alive too…maybe more so then any of her Sisters <br /><br />Once long ago something dark and wicked boarded The Gravamina and killed her crew.<br /><br />Now, it was assumed it was the Plague, but of course it wasn’t…it was a Demon and it drained the blood and life from every living thing on board the Gravamina and with no crew the Gravamina drifted and dreamed.<br /><br />And then she went mad.<br /><br />Like most Insane things the Gravamina was very good at pretending to be normal and after she was repaired and sold and even re-named she sailed and reacted to her world, as any Ship should<br /><br />But then she started killing things. <br /><br />She took the lives of her crew, the fish that swam around her as she sailed the Seas and when she was bored she made the food and water and wine go bad that had been stored below her decks.<br /><br />Then one day a young sailor whose mother was a Witch and whose father was a Demon from the Mountains boarded the Gravamina and she tried to kill him to…for sport.<br /><br />But he knew what to do and he tore her Compass from her chest and he took it to the Catacombs and he buried it.<br /><br />He buried it alive.<br /><br />The fool.<br /><br />So the Heart of the Gravamina Screams in anger and rage and the rest of her dreams and rots and then one day a woman named Azi Dahaka went down into those tombs and brought it back out.<br /><br />Azi Dahaka put the Compass back into her chest and the Gravamina’ s Sails captured a long dead gust of wind and her Crew came from the darkness and now they are all sailing to a port where this is dancing and music and art and poetry.<br /><br />And Souls.<br /><br />Lots of them.<br /><br />And Azi Dahaka is very, very hungry.”<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/1600/2003_1771.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1115/791/320/2003_1771.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Anita Marie Moscosohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02447868617517154334noreply@blogger.com0