Blink

"So I will ask you to do one thing for me Child."  Her voice was weak and dry; as if she'd swallowed a desert. She was almost gone and it was crushing me. 

"Stay or go, but please stop living in between. My heart is breaking." I selfishly thought.  I nodded though her eyes were closed; she couldn't see but my voice had been lost to sorrow.  There were no words for me to use.  I felt the cool dryness of her hand in mine.  Her skin so old and too smooth ~ already dead.  My chest hitched and the pain was almost too great to bear. I choked on the sob wanting to be strong for her; show her I wasn't afraid of her death.  I needed her know it was okay to go.  Her thumb soothed me as it slowly drew along my hand, then she gently squeezed.

"Do something for me." the whisper came again.

"Yes. Of course, Nina, anything for you." The tears spilled freely as I trembled.

"Don't blink.  When he comes to you at last, and he will. Don't blink. I want you to be safe."

"Who Nina? Who will come?" 

"He will find you after I'm gone and if you blink ~ and really see him,  it will be over. You will lose.  Just like me."  Her words came in tiny gasps almost hisses.  A cough rumbled through her chest and nearly folded her half.  I jumped to help her, ease her pain.

"Nina I don't understand. Who? "  Though in the back of my mind I had already dismissed the request.  The Hospice people warned us no I guess it's better to say they "coached" us about her death.  She would talk to people long gone.  She would itch and pull at clothes as if they were strangling her... This was her departure.  My beautiful Nina who laughed with me, told me jokes, snuck snacks to me when I'd been sent to bed without dinner, made me smoke an entire pack of cigarettes one after the other when she caught me "being cool"... she had been reduced...

"Don't " It came as close to a shout as her frail body would allow.

"Alright Neen.  I won't. I won't" I felt her slow, relax.  her body tried to sigh.  A thin smile crossed her lips.

"Good girl.  Promise me." she sounded softer now, less agitated.

"I promise Nina.  I promise not to blink."

"You're a damn liar." and she wheeze-laughed.

I kissed her head; breathed in her soapy smell and gulped it all in.  "I won't Neen. I won't I won't I won't." and I rested my lips on her forehead.  My tears fell again.  I just wanted at that moment to gather her up and run.  Run until she was healthy again.  Run away until the sickness was gone.  We could hide and get better and she could live forever.  

"We can't run Child."  came her words.  She always could get in my head.  "I lost.  It's time."

"Not yet Nina. Please don't go.Just a little while longer?"

"We only get to borrow hearts on borrowed time." she scooched down under the covers as if she was cold.  "But I'll leave you my heart.  Keep it for me."

"Oh Neeeeen." I felt the edges breaking away like a damaged glacier.  Her breaths were short, shallow, and spaced way too far apart. I closed my eyes and tried to brace myself.  Her hand relaxed. She was gone.  I buried my head in the blankets and let all the agony I'd hid while caring for her, watching her slip away and diminish spill out in sobbing gushes amongst her bedclothes.  I glanced up; eyes swollen and bleary, wanting to see what peace looked like.  I felt my mouth twist in disbelief and shock.

Her eyes were wide open.

I stood on wobbly legs and backed out of the room to call the nurse.  I needed to tell someone that she was gone.  I wanted someone to close her eyes.

That is all I really remember about my grandmother's passing.  The funeral was a blur filled with half-hearted thank you's, too many hugs, and insincere promises to get together soon.  I couldn't wait for it to be over.

After about two months, I had begun to wean myself off the sleeping pills and was trying to stand on my own again without my Nina.  I was lonely and angry at the hole she'd left behind.

Then He came; as she said he would.

Subtly at first because he needed me to be unassuming.  Certain that Nina had warned me, he waited until I was strong enough to dismiss and weak enough to fear.  Bumps in the night were ignored.  Moving or hidden objects were waved off.  In fact, I was even foolish enough to think Nina was playing tricks on me and letting me know she was watching over me.  The nightmares... they got my attention:  always violent with soul chilling laughter as backdrop music.  I was in car crashes. I was chased, murdered in countless ways.  I was burned alive, skinned.  I was tortured with devices unimaginable except in Hell.  I made more therapist appointments and gobbled pills.  I drank to numbness.  I became poor at my job and wept alone.  I cursed Nina.  And that was what he was waiting for.

His torture began with the opening of doors; all of them.  It came to be that I simply stopped shutting them ~ even my front door was known to be smilin wide at the world for days after one of his stop-bys.
The cold spots were not something I feared.  Paranormal activity was a passion for me regardless, so I simply dove in and swam half way to meet him; my doom.  The EVPs were benign to start.  They were misleading of course, causing me to sympathize and let my guard down.  I thought he was the lost soul of a young girl who lived in our old neighborhood years ago that was presumed to have drowned in the creek running next to our home.  The circumstances were suspicious, her body never found and a local man named Howard Bettingsworth was questioned but nothing was written after that.  The trail seemed to go cold after the church services performed by my Nina's own (much younger then) pastor. I researched it all ~ very well, even recalling the stories Nina had told me when I was little.  The girl's name was Margaret and she was never found. I even addressed the spirit as such.  He played along for a while; sometimes feigning sadness keeping me awake for hours with cries in the night.  Sometimes showing himself as a small delicate mist or a darting shadow.  I took bite after bite and swallowed his bait.

"Margaret" began to fine tune her show.  She only came to me at night; opening my closet door, looming as a shadow and whispering just beyond my hearing.  It bothered me but again in my naivety, I never sought the help I needed.  One night, my closet banged open and I felt a freezing rush as if someone had run toward me, stopped short and hung above my bed.  I sat bolt upright and peered into the darkness.  My room smelled of decaying meat and feces.  I gagged, leaped from my bed and dashed down the hall. My stomach churned and burned as sickness overwhelmed me.  then came the laughter I'd heard in my dreams.  It ambled through my skull and shook me to the core.  Spiked icy fingers clutched my head and forced me down into the toilet water.  I scrambled for breath and the handle to flush.  The water receded and I was able to gulp a few quick sprigs of air. At last I was released and slumped to the side of the bowl clinging to the shower curtain and wiping my face.  A heaviness shifted behind me.  The stench trailed in and wrapped around my body sending it back into heaves.  My spine quivered and my muscles went weak feeling something huge looming.  I turned to see him and blinked; bringing him fully into focus from the darkness.  

Its skin hung from its bones like carelessly shucked corn.  Countless bugs and worms seethed and pushed under blistered pockets of  flesh, causing wafts of stink to belch at me.  What could have been called arms were too long capped with almost dainty claws.  His chest was sunken and broken open. There were no organs per se but something in there was shifting anxiously.  Its face...caused me to scream and pass out.  I cannot remember. And you do not need to know.

When I came to, I was in my bed drenched in sweat. The sheets were made perfectly almost too tight but the bed had been ripped to shreds.  I was sunken down inside it, surrounded and drowning in memory foam.
After that it escalated.  I was constantly haunted by his laughter and watched helplessly as he infected my life and health.  I slept little, at rarely and despite visits to the doctors, treatments galore, I was dying; rotting from the inside out as if I had been buried alive. I sought help from God in our church and was rewarded but I knew it was too late.

"And so I will ask one thing of you Child." I heard the words and felt sawdust fill my throat.

The lovely young girl sat next to me as I had done long ago for Nina. 

"Yes Miss Carol." Her voice was soft and sad.  We had grown close; this neighbor girl and I.  Before I lost my battle, I wanted to warn her. maybe this time the words would be heard. Her hand held mine; soft and warm.

"When he comes to you.  Shows himself and he will... don't blink. Now I know you think I'm crazy.  But you will need your faith to beat him.  He was an evil evil man and he is only worse now."

"Who?" she shook her head.  I knew she couldn't believe I would tell her a ghost story NOW.... of all times.  but I had to; and I had to hurry.  I smelled him coming.  I heard him laughing.  

"Don't blink. Don't try to see. Just remember the story I told you that day in your garden."

"About Margaret?"

My heart soared.  She remembered.  Kids were so smart these days.  "YES" I coughed and almost threw myself from the bed.  Damn this weakness.  Curse that murderer.

"Miss Carol... this ghost of yours."

"Not of mine.  Don't patronize Child." I frumped and pulled away.

"No no no Miss Carol.  This ghost.  Do you know who it is?"

"Of course I do!" I hissed. This sent me to coughing and spitting up all sorts of unmentionables.  He laughed and hovered in the hall.  It was almost over.  I was so tired of fighting.

"Who is it?" her tone changed; sounded more soothing.  I relaxed but pulled her to me to whisper his awful name.

"Are you sure?" The deed was done.  He could not stop her now.  She had the knowledge to beat him and survive.

"When I was well, I went to a place he showed me in my dreams.  A place he tortured me when I slept.  I found Margaret's body."

"Did you tell anyone?"  

"I'm telling you. Now."

"Miss Carol.  Where? Where was Margaret."

"Think child.  Of what I've told you."

I felt the rush of cold and smelled something horrible.  he stood in the doorway seething with fury.  I sucked in my last breath and felt his ghastly claws invade my body; steal my life.  I welcomed it.  And I looked him in the face, even widened my eyes a bit so he knew I could see him for what he was; in life and in death; a monster.

I heard the young girl crying and felt her rest her head on my arm as I slipped away.  I whispered thank you in her ear but she didn't hear me.  I watched him turn to her and leer.  Hungry already for a next victim.  But she was stronger and smarter than I ever was.  She got up and looked around. He circled her.  I saw her wince and cover her nose.  Then she wrote his name.  She got on her smart phone and looked up the little chapel where Nina's pastor had tortured little girls all his life.  Nina had found the burial site after he had molested her.  It was a promise he made if she told.  She would end up like Margaret.  Nina kept the secret all her life and remained one of his favorites.  After he died, he wanted to make sure she kept her promise.

My strong little neighbor tapped the name like a curse.  "You're goin down so fast..." she said and spun in the room.  He danced around her. I heard him gasping, getting excited.  I tried to shush her and warn her but I was too far away to be heard.  "You like hurtin girls?  Your days are numbered preacher.  I'm comin so you better not blink."


I liked it.  This was fun.  It rambles a bit and I know it has my typical quick ending, but I like it all the same.  It feels good to write again ~ to want to.  I got this from a ghost story my grandmother told me.  I didn't use all of it so I will get to make something else down the road... I hope you had a good day and I want to thank you for coming over.  It's so nice to sit together again, isn't it?

Safe From Dreams

I sat in the car paralyzed for what felt like a month of Sundays;  staring, just staring, unable to see clearly what was truly present, safe and untainted.  My mouth was a dry pinched scowl, my body hummed as if electricity buzzed through it.  I didn't even realize I muttered half-hearted words of support and encouragement.

 "You're all right.  You're all grown up and you can do this.  You just go up and do it, Grayce.  Shine up those brassy balls and just - get- out"

I guess I opened the car door.  Like a zombie, I stepped and stumbled up the drive.  I hadn't been able to pull up closer; too afraid. The dandelions and fox tail grass turned in the breeze; flabbergasted that I had returned.

My eyes and memory distorted reality.  I saw the white front porch rail with the blue floor.  Long ago, sunflowers topped and guarded it with unparalleled elegance and simplicity.  The screen door was framed with intricately carved wood and stained the same majestic blue as the floor. Fear slithered in and shook me. I demanded an explanation as to why I'd made this trek.  After all this time, what good would it serve?  Done was done and sleeping dogs should be left to lie... But before I could finish my argument, I knelt at those porch steps, placed the two things that would save my soul and return my brother and unlocked the door; stepping back inside my youthful nightmare.

I recognized the bright, cheerful tiny lavender flowers which grew in  perfect wallpaper rows.  I glanced around at the dark, stoic contrasting furniture; clunky and looming.  I felt the chill and shivered as my youth ambled up and greeted me; reminding me of horrors past. It started with a hello thump and a few heavy footsteps.  My heart clutched my ribs and began to thunder.  The assurance and strength of adulthood was melting away into a nervous puddle in the hall.  I received a musty waft; a threat if you will- much like a crotchety old man bellowing from the top of the stairs:

"If I have to come down there, you will be SORRY"

I already was.  My upper lip was moist and tingling.  I wondered how I'd talked myself into revisiting this place, where my childhood disintegrated, my understanding of evil was completed and my brother was killed.

The floor boards from my old room upstairs moaned.  I slipped cautiously to the steps in time with the house's complaining;  remembering to skip that fifth one because of the booby trap creak that would have shouted my arrival, maybe even screamed my intent to destroy what murdered my brother, Donnie, all those years ago when we were learning what ghosts could do to the living.

We were just kids with excitable overactive imaginations.  We told ghost stories, played flashlight tag until we caught the attention of the Bogeyman.  He lived under the porch steps - maybe he'd have stayed there if we hadn't wanted to be pirates and bury treasure in his living room.  It was only Donnie's lucky rabbit foot (painted an incredibly rude shade of purple) his Pete Rose baseball card, my game of Jax and the spider ring that Shawn Middleton had given me at the Halloween parade during my Kindergarten year. We dug under the steps, coming across a wooden hinged box; maybe an old cigar box.  Inside was a button, a brush and a shard of glass each caked with ancient blood colored mud- all dangerous mysterious treasures we were more than happy to contribute to.  Hastily we joined collections and sealed our fates. We were too young to understand how tragic history imprints time.  We never knew bad people who do bad things are bad ghosts who do worse things.  A week later Donnie would be gone, our family would shatter and I would forever live in fear of the Bogeyman.

The shadow appeared first to me that night along with a cold slimy feeling I would come to know accompanied by an equally terrifying voice calling my name and promising horrific things if we didn't right our wrong.  I told my parents but was scolded for silliness.  Donnie was afraid too and once it visited him, both of us sufficiently terrified yet ignored by those sworn to protect, well that was all she wrote. 

We had just come in from a rousing game of "Blind Man's bluff" when the cold descended upon us; chilling our bones and tickling our ears with dark promises of never ending pain.  Horrified we ate dinner in silence, sadly accustomed to our parents' disbelief and scoff.  Bedtime was tense because we would be on our own; to be once again warned of its sickening intents:  of flesh removed, souls destroyed and macabre adventures to last all eternity unless the wrong was righted.

I prayed for safe keeping, fighting sleep as if it were the Devil himself hanging out in the closet, under the bed, or in the hall.  Donnie screamed once but when my parents yelled at him, closed his door and shut out the light that night- the tears were mine.  I knew he was doomed. I should have gone to him but I wasn't supposed to leave my bed. With no one to believe us, abandoned, it was inevitable.  If you would have asked my parents, they were astonished, unable to accept or believe what that morning would bring.

My folks and the outside world explained it as a stranger coming in the night and stealing my brother away.  A case that would grow cold and never be solved.  Now I understood why I was here~ to rescue Donnie.  After all was said and done, we never spoke of him.  We never said goodbye.  We just moved away and moved on with the gaping hole his memory left behind.  We never even sold the house.

One by one I climbed those steps; my palms sweating and cold.  I heard my breath shallow and gasping.  The shadows hovered and watched.   Maybe they cowardly woke the bogeyman to see what would happen next.   The house sighed and prepared for battle.

I got to the landing; a door slammed.  I jumped out of my skin and squeaked like a church mouse.  Then down the hall each of the doors opened and slammed in an evil, welcoming applause.  I shakily went to his room.  There was a breathy laugh as if it dared me to continue.  I stood before his closet on rubbery new-born giraffe legs.

"Donnie?" I asked

Nothing

"It's okay.  You can come out now.  Come home Donnie.  Mom misses you and I have no one to blame for all the cookies that are gone."

The door opened slowly.   My heart stopped.  I leaned forward and felt it wind around me; not Donnie, but the bogeyman; hungry for victory and a second course of our family as a spiritual meal. "Yes" it seemed to whisper to my core." I found myself stepping into the shadows unable to stop or control my own movements.   I didn't want to go.  I knew there was pain and terror in there but I was being pulled.

"RUN! RUN! HE'S HERE! YOU HAVE TO DO IT NOW" came the shout in my little brother's panicked voice.  It was just enough for me to break free.  I rocked back, turned and bolted back down the stairs, skittering to a stop at the porch.  I tore at the dirt; at last uncovering what I needed; the box.  I ripped it open hearing the bogeyman slowly; almost playfully plodding down the steps.  It had me dead to rights.  No rush, not a worry in its world.  I heard it's breath wet; filled with rage and anticipation.  Its shadow stretched out to reach for me, stinging my fingers as I fumbled.  I heard myself screaming, felt my lungs and chest burning as the monster slipped up closer to do to me what it had promised for these years in my diseased sleep.  I dowsed  what was left and struck the match ~ grateful that the packaging hadn't lied:  " First strike is ALWAYS the luckiest" The box burst into flames and I heard a disappointed, shocked screech. I did not feel the burns to my hands as I clutched my flaming salvation.

"You can put it down" came the tiny voice.  I dropped the box; bewildered at the length of time it sizzled and scorched before at last smoldering to a pile of dark wispy ash.

I felt a small hand in mine; cold but reassuring.  Glancing, I saw the little form of my brother's ghost and squeezed gently; happy to have his touch even if he was dead.  The house faded and morphed.  No more were the shadows leering or playing games with my eyes. I at last saw reality. Standing before my was my old house; boarded up, ragged and sad, scabbed with broken paint and gaping windows.  My gait was different now, a little more solid; more adult and less afraid.  I sighed heavily and started the engine; looking over I saw Donnie's tired dead eyes.  I smiled gently.

"Let's go home Kiddo."

Dandelions and fox grass bowed humbly, bidding us farewell. 


I must admit that it's short and choppy but let's consider how long it's been.  I'm a bit rusty. I am pleased overall, in spite of its glitches.  I like the circle created and think it tells a creepy little tale.  Who doesn't like those?  I am happy to have you here.  Thank you for stopping by and I hope to see you again; soon.

The Tail

Almost twenty years ago, I was introduced; brought into the fold, if you will.  The story seemed far-fetched; impossible but it was confirmed.  My father-in-law was a fantastic catcher/player in college; with talent to make Johnny Bench green with envy.  Apparently, while visiting HIS father-in-law out on the back porch, it was pointed out that a rabbit was creating havoc in the garden; destroying all the hard work and patient tending.  The said villain was identified and mutterings, tales of woe continued.  My grandad-in-law was professing his GREAT displeasure. My father-in-law patiently listened then asked:

"Want me to get it?" .

"With what? You've got no gun here." came the sharp reply

"No but I have this..." and the great Ernesto shook his glass containing ice cubes; with a wry smile.

"You can't." came the scoff and head shake.

My father-in-law smiled a little broader and plucked the cube.

Bets were laid and aim was taken.  With lightening speed, a heavy thuck and a jump it was over.  Thumper would never devour carrot tops again.  Debts were settled but with much congratulations, back-slapping and whooping.  The murder weapon melted and no one was the wiser as to the tiny death of the varmint in the Garden of Bounty.  When this was told to me, I chuckled and politely nodded, my skepticism obvious.  But I had the corroboration, the confirmation from various witnesses and so this became part of my unquestioned family history.

Time makes a habit of flying by us but graciously fills our lives with beautiful extras: a marriage came, then another, then children and grandchildren; all blessings.  And with each blessing came an indulgence in the tale.  The story became fantastic; epic.

By the time my daughter heard the story.  My father-in-law was in the FRONT of the house and chucked the cube over the roof much like those amazing basketball shots we scream about on YouTube.  The rabbit was large and carried a deadly stare apparently growling at anyone who approached its demanded domain.

Then there was my nephew's inauguration.  The garden variety rabbit had Darwin-ed into a Jackelope the size of a  police dog with dangerous front claws; sharp as Chinese throwing stars. The Mighty Ernesto was up the road and had to save the town and ALL its gardeners from this insatiable beast for surely Pittsburgh would starve otherwise. With his bare hands, my father-in-law was granted by Christ, the power of body heat so he was able to shape the cube into a weapon so righteous as to defeat the Goliath of the Garden. The cheering and celebration went on for days.

Time also is a bandit stealing from us witnesses of corroboration which allows our unquestioned history to snowball....

When my son reached the age of "enlightenment", Thumper had morphed to the something resembling a panther that had fangs and our hero was across the river having nothing more than glacial ice surely blessed by Mother Teresa to rescue the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania from certain destruction and starvation.  I believe a holiday was named for him, the key to city was presented but he humbly declined, realizing it was his destiny as a Chosen Warrior for the good of all gardeners and farmers of our great country. 

At last, the final grandchildren made their way to the historic lesson.  It was a mammoth, woolly and tusked, enraged and storming through humanity's most treasured and protected vegetable source.  Armed with only a piece of  wood from the Ark itself, our Savior chucked it with certainty.  Shrieking through the sky with a  fiery tail like a Divine comet, the Holy weapon sliced its jugular and saved the world. Cherubs fluttered through the sky! Angels sang his praise.

And THAT is how the dinosaurs became extinct.

No witnesses needed because...

Who wouldn't believe this "tail" as the little voice in all of us says.... "Tell me again Pop-pop! I LOVE that story!"



Thank you Cheech. I couldn't (and wouldn't want to) do this without you.  The laughs, joys and strengths are endless.