This is what I heard last night coming from under the bed and out from the closet… Happy Halloween! Hee heeeeee!
(Thanks to Maddie for the starting sentence.)
I woke up at 3:13 a.m. to the sound of persistent scratching that came from the wall above the furnace.
“Too early!” I called out. “You’re a day too early! It’s not Halloween until tomorrow.”
The poltergeist, or whatever it was, took no notice. The scratching continued.
These noises were an annual event. Strange noises appeared every Halloween, but this time they were a day too early. Nor had I ever heard them at night before. The first time it happen I was terrified out of my skin. Now that it’s occurred on Halloween for the last nine years I find it more annoying than anything else. There are footsteps, and a little bit of giggling, the sounds of a boiling kettle whistling and of water flushing, and scratching, scratching, scratching. I have never heard any speaking. It seems that poltergeist don’t like to talk.
And then I heard it! A faint and muffled voice. “Help! Help!” followed by more scratching. “Help! Help!”
“Too early!” I called out again. “You’re a day too early! It’s not Halloween until tomorrow.”
The noises stopped. The call for help faded away. I went back to sleep.
The next morning, quite early, there was a gentle knock on the door. It was a distraught woman. Had I seen her husband? Every year he came to clean my chimney at this time. She remembered because it was always on Halloween. But this year he was two days early because of a daughter’s wedding, and she hadn’t seen him for two days.
It was very spooky. Within seconds of Natasha getting wet in the shower (this is at night time) the bathroom light would go off. It started only about a month ago, and occasionally. Now it happened automatically, every time.
“Blow it,” thought Natasha, not as yet equating the event with supranatural causes, “I shall walk dripping wet across the bathroom floor and turn the light back on.” She did just that. But no sooner had she got back into the shower the light went out again.
Next above the sound of water falling, she heard “hee hee hee”. It was a woman’s voice. It was coming from the direction of the light switch. Natasha began to feel scared. The “hee hee hee” had certain nasty overtones.
Natasha stepped immediately out of the shower, strode to the light switch, turned it on and reached for a towel. All the bathroom towels had gone. Not even the usual hand towel was there.
And then she saw it. OMG! She saw it! Natasha screamed. That scream was the last sound ever to come out of Natasha’s mouth.
Hee hee hee!
When Garth set fire to the bus it was so he could drive it while still burning into the wing of the local hospital. It was an old wooden building. He did it because his life time enemy, Josephine, was in a bed somewhere there.
It so happened that all patients were able to walk, and very quickly they gathered at the bottom of the staircase ready to make a hasty retreat outside.
Garth was still in the bus, laughing his head off. His aim, once the building was aflame, was to dash outside and never be seen again.
As Garth alighted from the bus ready to make his dash, Patient Gwendoline tripped him up with her crutches. Patient Josephine, who had just finished reading “Fifty Shades of Grey” and whose husband, while she was in hospital, had brought her some grapes and a pair of handcuffs to cheer her up, managed to handcuff Garth as he passed and close the other end of the handcuffs over the springs of a bed on wheels.
All traipsed quickly out, except for Garth who dragged the bed behind him and got stuck in the doorway. He burned to death. His dying screams could be heard all over the suburb.
Now, children, tomorrow’s Halloween. The bed Garth burned to death in is the very bed you’re lying in. I managed to get it cheap at the secondhand place. I’m going to turn the light out and you’re all to get a good night’s sleep. We don’t want kiddies yawning their way through trick or treating tomorrow do we?
I think I’ve put a stop to this nasty little practice of kids knocking on my door and asking for candy. I have lots of delicious confectionary. It looks so tempting. Then the little snotty-nosed neighbours arrive dressed up completely unscaringly and ask for sweets.
I tell them, holding out the big basket I have, I tell them “Here, take some, but know that one of them is poisoned”. Isn’t that a scream? Trick and scream, I say to myself. Trick and scream! Scream your little hearts out you snotty-nosed neighbour’s sprogs dressed as Hiawatha. It works every time.
Of course, one of the sweets IS poisoned, but I know which one. Then when they’ve all screamed and run off I get to eat them all myself. All except for the poisoned one of course.
This year I got some Mackintosh’s Toffees and some Peanut M&M’s – best before February 2017. I’m already drooling at the thought of devouring them.
I’ll just have a wee peek. Which one is the poisoned one? Which one? Oh. There’s several of the same sort. I think it’s this one here.
(Today, in some Christian traditions, it is the Feast of All Saints. Some call it All Hallows. It is where we get the word “Halloween” from: “All Hallows Evening”. To commemorate this day I’m going to re-tell a traditional tale from Italy. I didn’t make it up; but it’s one of my favourite folk stories! It could be added that hagiography is a genre that today rightly suffers – mainly through its own fault – from a great deal of unpopularity…)
Saint Joseph was married to Mary, the Mother of Jesus.
There was this man who prayed only to Saint Joseph. He completely ignored God, and Jesus, and everyone else. The only person he ever prayed to was Saint Joseph.
Eventually the man died. Saint Peter met him at the gates to Heaven.
“You can’t come in,” said Saint Peter. “You only ever prayed to Saint Joseph. You never prayed to God. Only those who prayed to God can enter.”
Saint Joseph appeared at the gate.
“Let him in,” he said. “If you don’t, I’m taking my wife and Kid elsewhere.”
(A story for Halloween)
Warren lay in the hospital bed. He couldn’t move but he could hear.
“We’re sorry, but he’s clinically dead. When you’ve said your goodbyes, the machine will be turned off.”
Don’t pull the plug! Don’t pull the plug! screamed Warren inside. I’m still alive!
“Thank you, doctor. We would like to switch the machine off ourselves. Goodbye, Warren.”
Warren heard the switch click. He knew they were wheeling him to the morgue. He heard the mortician complain about the amount of fluid in his system.
“It must’ve been one hell of a gigantic cyst. Look at all that stuff draining off.”
He heard them injecting him with embalming fluid. He felt it. It was excruciating. He heard his funeral; every word. He heard them lowering the coffin into the grave.
I’m not dead! I’m not dead!
He heard the clunk of the dirt falling.
He heard his body rot; bit by bit; piece by piece. Decaying bones take centuries.
He was dead, but this was Hell.
Aow, wouldn’t it be loverly?
Loverly, loverly, loverly, loverly
– “My Fair Lady”
Wendy of Ramblings and Musings has graciously bestowed upon my humble personage the One Lovely Blog Award. Thank you, Wendy. Wendy’s blog is for “cultivating gratitude and sharing joy”. It certainly does that; more so for me with the nomination for this award! Wendy writes that the initial intention of her blog was to find something to be grateful for every day. Do visit!
Here are the rules for accepting the One Lovely Blog Award:
1. Thank and give a link to the person who nominated you.
2. List the rules and display the award.
3. Share 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate 15 other bloggers and comment on their blogs to let them know. (I’ve suggested only 10).
Since Halloween is about to shriek its gruesome face from out behind the door, I thought seven ghastly-ghostly chocolate-coated candies that have happened to me would be an appropriate seasonal gift. These are true:
1. I had poltergeist in the attic of my house. Noisy activity would begin exactly at 11 p.m. and cease at precisely 3 a.m.
2. Lights in the house would be turned on and off.
3. The toilet in the bathroom would flush on its own accord. One time an empty bath was filled with water; I heard it filling; I saw it filled.
4. Footsteps above my ceiling and on the staircase would tread up and down, ceaselessly; mercilessly.
5. A bunch of keys hanging on a bookcase hook would swing merrily without a gust of wind (or an earthquake). Doors would unlock and door handles turn of their own accord. Bang! Bang! Bang! Would slam the doors.
6. The luggage stored in the attic would get rearranged – nightly.
7. I was a sleepless wreck after three weeks. I asked a priest to come and bless the place. He said: “Don’t tell me! Not that house! Not again!” Anyway… they stopped…
As some may know, I do not nominate, but I make recommendations to readers to increase the pleasure and wisdom of their lives by venturing possibly into an exploration of the blogs of others that they may have failed to notice! Here are 10 of the blogs I follow and am enriched by. I would list 15 if time was on my side… Some of these blogs are “Award-Free”, but presumably they are not agin intelligent people observinging their postings. If they wish to consider this recommendation as an award nomination, they are very welcome! I follow many more blogs, but these are the 10 that get a little push today:
1. Uma of One Grain Against the Storm presents a mélange of memoirs, fiction, short stories, verses, book reviews and uncorked angst. Here are examples of writing at its most evocative. It is a brilliant example of how the internet presents us with a universality of expression and experience.
2. Cindy Knoke has an award free blog. Cindy doesn’t simply take photographs; she captures the very essence of the subject. I’m sure too she has the gift of bilocation. There doesn’t seem to be a nook or cranny in this world that has not been captured! Fabulous!
3. A Note from Abroad features Joanne and Tim Joseph’s travels of the world. They leave a trail of descriptions and visuals that surely would make us all envious if we weren’t so nice! I’m amazed that they’re not forever bumping into Cindy Knoke (above)…
4. Yaz of The Falling Thoughts. Yaz is a travel enthusiast, who is multi-lingual – fluent in Arabic, English, and Spanish. (A bit like me, but I don’t have the Arabic and Spanish bits). I always find a surprising image hidden in a Yaz Poem – Let me move those clouds So you can feel the sun…
5. Oscar Alejandro Plascencia of In So Many Words presents a NOH8 scene where he posts poetry and thoughts often with a same gender leitmotif. Currently he is in the running to win the A Star is Born online competition, and would undoubtedly appreciate your weekly vote.
6. Chris at chrisnelson61 presents poetry, stories and some random words… He is a great and faithful support of the blogs of others too!
7. Pacificparatrooper is not just Pacific War era information. It is more than a boring list of wartime events. It is a tribute to the bravery of countless men and women who fought in war. GP Cox presents a daily tribute and a feast of stuff you never knew before…
8. Sarah Angleton’s blog at The Practical Historian is always well-researched, beautifully written, slightly odd-ball, and highly entertaining. One of the best blogs, surely, around. Award-free.
9. Cynthia Jobin is an unrecognized National Treasure. Her blog at littleoldladywho is a goldmine. Cynthia writes poems using traditional (and sometimes ancient) poetic forms using everyday language. There’s an audio of her reading them as well. Award-free.
10. Susanne at Redosue aims to take sometimes some of her previous postings and rethink, revisit, rewrite. The result is style with a great deal of panache.
Thanks again, Wendy for the nomination.
Cosima glanced up at the shelf where she kept her bottles of medicinal pills.
“That’s funny,” she thought. “They’re all empty. There were pills in those bottles yesterday.”
And then she heard it… a faint whimper; more of a pianissimo shriek. It came from behind the…
Oh my God! OH MY GOD! THERE! OH MY GOD!
And to think, the day had started out as an ordinary Friday.