We’ve reached the end of my October writing challenge and of this story. As I type this, my black cat Duncan is on my lap, my Jack-O-Lantern is flickering beside me, and Rocky Horror is playing on the TV. I’m also eating way too much candy. So, it’s definitely still Halloween in this house.

Thanks for hanging in there through this challenge and this story. I had no idea when I started the places it would go. I don’t know if this is a comment about higher academia or what, but here it is. Also, I am very much a product of higher academia and have benefited from it. Still, I have seen the toxicity of it nearly eat my friends alive. Like everything, it has two sides to it.

Prompt, All Hallow’s Eve.

“One Year Later

Gregor finished his lecture. The students seemed utterly confused and a little frightened. It was his best lecture yet. They all filed out at the end of the hour, happy to be leaving, but especially happy to be leaving for their own Halloween festivities. 

As soon as they were gone, Gregor reflected on that night a year ago. Dr. Hozier had been found guilty on all four counts of murder. It’d helped that he’d left a detailed account in his journal in his house. (Always the braggart.)

Now Gregor was a full professor, what he’d always wanted. That night 365 days ago seemed like a distant memory, except for one thing. Gregor looked around and removed a key from his jacket pocket. He used it to open a secret drawer in his desk. Inside that drawer  was this pickled head of Richard, his former colleague and mentor. He’d kept it from the cops, lied about it. Why had he kept it? Maybe to remind himself of where he’d been, maybe to remind himself of what he was capable of.

Gregor smiled and closed the drawer. Outside his class, three students remained. “Man, Professor Jenkins is the worst,” one of them commented.

“I think he takes pleasure out of ruining our GPA,” the other bemoaned.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to graduate because of him,” the third added.

“Someone should really do something about him,” the first remarked. “But what?”

“I don’t know, but someone that awful, karma has it out for them,” the second ensured. 

“He did survive the death of all his friends,” the third reminded them. 

“That doesn’t excuse his asshattery,” the first replied. “Trust me, he’s going to get his.”

Gregor came out of the room at that time and the students scattered. Gregor smiled. He ruled with an iron fist. Out of the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw a flash of something. It looked like . . . No, it couldn’t be. It was his mind and the anniversary playing tricks on him. He could have sworn he’d seen Death. Gregor shouldered his bag, hunched his shoulders, and headed out into the night.”

#writingchallenge #Halloween #spooky

Happy Halloween! I’m a little behind, what with the ongoing Covid situation in my family compound. I’ll finish up the writing challenge tomorrow, on what is really Nov 1st, but I think it still counts.

Just a reminder that I have spooky stories on demand via Haints and Hollers ebook. You can get it here. Also, you can enjoy some scary short stories in my eBook Comes In Threes. It’s available here.

Prompts, A Cemetery and Devil’s Night.

“Gregor did what needed doing, and then he walked into the Red Masque Ball with the most confidence he’d ever felt in his life. Gavin’s party was kind enough to let him borrow a mask, a Devil’s mask. It was eerily perfect for the task at hand. He soon spotted Dr. Hozier in his plague doctor’s mask. Hozier was a little surprised to see him, but he played it off.

“I suppose I should have stepped out into the solitude of the cemetery and called from there,” he quipped as he pulled Gregor aside. “Is the deed done?”

“Yes, and the proof is outside in Matt’s car, since you slashed the tires on mine.”

Dr. Hozier smiled. “Oh yes, I did do that. I also singlehandedly murdered all your competition. You should be thanking me.”

“Please come out and see the proof. I want this horrible night to end,” Gregor did his best to sound desperate.

Fortunately, Dr. Hozier complied. He followed Gregor out, gloating all the way. “My car’s on the other side of the cemetery,” Gregor explained as the noise of the party grew dim behind them. Say what you will about the Red Masque Ball, they were respectful of the cemetery.

As they walked, there was a noise, it was an odd noise, almost like fingernails scratching against marble. “What was that?” Hozier asked.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Gregor commented.

“How far to the car?”

Gregor smiled. “Just a little further. Wouldn’t be smart to park too close.”

Suddenly, Matt’s undead body lurched out from behind a tombstone. Hozier screamed and stumbled back. Dwight came from behind and Neil appeared at his side, boxing him in. “No, this isn’t possible! I killed you all!”

“You did, but I have brought them back,” Gregor proclaimed. 

“No! This can’t be real!” Hozier tried to run, but zombie Matt held him fast.

“On any other night, no, but you forgot to take into account the power of this night, the Devil’s night!” Gregor grabbed Richard’s head and threw it at Hozier. The other man caught it. 

Dr. Hozier looked down. At that moment, Richard opened his eyes and said, “Boo!”

Hozier screamed again. He dropped the head, clutched at his heart, and then fell down dead. Gregor looked up to see Death standing there. He waved at Gregor, smiled, and was gone, taking Hozier’s soul with it.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

Another short entry for today. There’s still a lot going on in my family. Halloween is usually my favorite holiday, but this year is less fun and truly terrifying for many reasons. I’ll try to have longer entries for the end of the story.

Prompts, An Old Church and Fancy Dress Party.

“The steeple of the Church of the Dearly Departed came into view. It was an old church, but a grand church. It wasn’t really used for religious services anymore, it was more of a party venue. And once a year, it hosted the Red Masque Ball.

Gregor pulled off into the woods, leaving plenty of space between him and the old church. He was near the cemetery, filled with crumbling stones. Through the trees, he could see everyone in their fancy dresses and masks. He needed to act quickly.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

How are you all? Are you hanging in there, still along for the ride? I’ll be honest, I just figured out where this ride is going. Also, there are many things going on in my personal life right now. After a year and a half of trying to keep Covid at bay, it has found us at my family’s compound. Right now, I am negative and my spouse is negative, but my mom has it, my nephew has it, and my sister has it. Mind you, we’re all vaccinated, but also extremely immuno compromised, that’s why we’ve worked so hard to avoid it. My sister is currently in the hospital with Covid pneumonia, but she’s ready to fight. Tonight’s entry will be short. I am exhausted, for a lot of reasons.

Prompts, Dearly Departed and Captured Soul.

“Gregor wasn’t sure what his life was anymore. But here he was, driving through the night, with a decapitated but still animated head in the front seat and three moaning zombies in the back seat. He’d taken Matt’s car and loaded his colleagues in the back. Fortunately, the bike Gavin had leant him had contact info written on it. He was able to call Gavin and drive to meet him and his group. They had performed the same spell on the bodies of Matt, Neil, and Dwight, but some of their ingredients were running low, so the results weren’t the same.

“What’s wrong with them?” Gregor asked as his former colleagues lurched around.

“For starters, they’re dead,” Sheila remarked.

“They’re low on juice,” Gavin explained. “It’s like running on a low battery. We’ve captured their souls for a bit longer, but there’s not much there in terms of brain activity.”

“It’ll work,” Gavin decided. 

Now here they were, all in the car on their way to the Church of the Dearly Departed.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

The seventh season of my cemetery play A Spot On the Hill has come to an end. It was an amazing experience and the weather was perfect. I could not have asked for a better cast, and the audiences were so appreciative. Here are a few shots from the second weekend.

I also have another play, a ten minute play, set in a cemetery that is part of A Mourning Hollow. You can purchase the theatrical anthology through Amazon.

Prompts, The Clocks Change & A Beautiful Scarf.

“Gregor worked quickly in the dark. Did Dr. Hozier have to leave the power off? Of course he did, the jerk. It was kind of fun, though, it was like going back to his roots, working by the light of the Bunsen burner. It reminded him of when he first started, before Richard was his adversary, before any of this. It almost made him feel bad to hack Richard’s body apart, but it had to be done, and his zombiefied state actually made it less messy. 

He was dissolving a limb when the phone rang again. Gregor startled, but managed not to drop acid on himself. With a huff, he returned to the kitchen and answered the phone. 

“Tick tock. Tick tock,” the familiar voice reminded him. 

“I get it,” Gregor replied and hung up. 

He returned to the task at hand and worked until his fingers were numb, but the minutes continued to pass by. “I don’t think you’re going to make it,” Richard’s head observed. Gregor had set it on a nearby counter.

Gregor had to stop. His hand was cramping. He, too, was fearful of the time. He stood to stretch his back, and his eyes caught site of the calendar illuminated in the candlelight. His eyes grew wide with realization. “No, we’re going to make it. And do you know why?”

“Blind optimism?” the head remarked.

“No, because time changes tonight!” Gregor pointed at the calendar. “We get an extra hour.” He looked down at the head, and for a moment he felt pity for Richard. He felt pity for all of them. No, it couldn’t end this way.

“Dr. Hozier doesn’t get to win,” Gregor decided. He recalled the last phone call they’d shared. He’d heard background noise. Lots of voices and a church bell? His eyes grew wide again. “I know where he is, Dr. Hozier. He left, after he killed the others, and he went to the Red Masque Ball. I doubt he even saw you. He doesn’t know you’re, well, this.”

Richard’s eyes grew wide, too. “He came here on a whim, thinking you’d realize my house was closer.”

“I say, we go to him and give him the shock of his life. Show him exactly the hell he’s wrought,” Gregor proclaimed.

The dismembered pieces of Richard’s body were left in the tub. Gregor found a beautiful scarf in a drawer and made it into a sling. He’d wanted to put Richard’s head in a backpack, but Richard had protested. He was claustrophobic. 

“My mother’s scarf,” the head lamented as Gregor tucked it inside the makeshift sling. “She’d be glad it brought me comfort one last time.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Gregor remarked, very uneasy. “It reminds me you were human once.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my mother was a saint, so I doubt I’ll be seeing her again when I get to my final resting place.”

“Well, my mom was hell on wheels, so we’ll probably have eternity together,” Gregor sighed.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky #weirdashell

Life got real busy last weekend, folks. So, I am a bit behind. Forgive me. I did get to learn about Victorian mourning customs on Thursday at our History Happy Hour. I knew some, but now I know so much more. It was fascinating, and disturbing.

Prompts, Raven and An Unexpected Phone Call.

“Gregor stumbled back from the bodies of his dead colleagues. The night seemed so eerily still around him, and then suddenly a raven burst forth from the trees behind him. It swooped over his head and he screamed. Gregor probably screamed all the way back around to the front and into the house. He slammed the door behind him, turning every lock. It was so dark inside the house, too. Where had the moon gone? It had been swallowed up by the clouds.

“What is it?” Richard’s corpse asked.

Gregor could just make him and the bike out in the dim light. “It’s Neil, Matt, and Dwight. They’re - they’re dead!”

“Did you kill them?”

“No!”

“You haven’t succeeded at killing anyone tonight,” Richard remarked.

Gregor couldn’t believe they were having this discussion. “That’s not the point!”

At that moment, a phone rang. “My emergency line in the kitchen,” Richard commented. “No one has that number.” He finally sounded scared.

Gregor slowly made his way to the kitchen in the dark. He found the phone and answered. “Hello?”

“Those others were taking up your time, keeping you from the task at hand,” the cold voice of Dr. Hozier replied. “Remember, the clock is ticking. Tick tock. Tick tock.” Then he hung up, but Gregor held onto the phone until the busy signal beeped through.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

As predicted, today was tiring, but it was also good. It was good to have a big school group back on site. I also gave a pretty awesome spooky tour this evening. I definitely got my steps in today, probably over 10,000. I’d like to thank the full moon for the spooky tour energy.

Today’s prompt, Dead Leaves.

“Gregor begrudgingly found himself playing Matt’s stupid game. He was able to get outside eventually and check on the corpse in the bush. “Get rid of them,” Richard enforced.

“I’m trying,” Gregor whined. But Richard was right, he had to find a way to stop the game, or at least get out of it. Maybe he could lure them outside and lock them out?

Good fortune worked in his favor for once and soon everyone was outside, stumbling around the yard. They’d had a lot to drink. Gregor led them around the side of the house and then double backed to the front. He left them gleefully howling at the moon in the back yard. He wrestled Richard and the bike out of the bush as quickly as he could and made a beeline for the front door. 

He was almost there, when he heard it, nothing. The howling had stopped. “They’ve stopped. Why did they stop?” 

“Who cares?!” Richard whispered.

Gregor cared, or at least he was curious. He shoved the bike and Richard through the front door. He fell over with a clatter and a, “Hey!”

Gregor closed the door. And ran to the back of the house. It was clear why his coworkers had stopped howling. There, under the moonlight, on top of a pile of dead leaves, were the bloodied and very deceased bodies of his peers. Their throats had been slit.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

I’m back! It’s such a busy two weeks with Halloween events. In addition to the play, I am doing macabre history tours through our historic town. Also, we have a big school group tomorrow, and it’s the first big school group we’ve had since pre-Covid, so I’m a little rusty. I know I’ll be worn out tomorrow.

I’m still finding ways to celebrate the season, that aren’t work related. I love the show Halloween Wars on Food Network. It’s a little different setup this year, thanks to the pandemic, but it’s still fun. They took away the pumpkin part of it, though, not sure why. I love watching the pieces of scary, edible art come together.

Prompts, Black Cat and Moonlight at Midnight.

“Gregor stashed the bike, and Richard, in the nearby bushes. He slowly crept into the house on high alert and ready for anything. He was still scared out of his mind, though, when the black cat came hurtling trough the air at him. The cat screamed, he screamed, and then someone . . . Laughed?

His jerky colleagues, the ones who had slashed their tires, came around the corner. Gregor looked down to see a Halloween decoration had been thrown at him.

“Real funny, guys.”

“You should have seen your face,” Matt cackled. 

“What are you all doing here?” Gregor didn’t have time for this.

“I got a key to Dick’s place when he went out of town. I water his plants,” Matt explained.

“Yeah, we were going to scare him,” Dwight added.

“Why isn’t he with you? Did you kill him or something?” Matt asked.

Gregor tried not to look guilty. “No. After our outing, he had to go and meet Dr. Hozier.” Yes, he could go ahead and plant that seed, put all the suspicion on the real killer.

Dwight grimaced. “He’s the only person worse than Richard.”

“You look like hell, Gregor,” Neil observed. “Do you need a glass of water?”

“I’ve had a rough night, okay? Someone slashed the tires on my car.” He gave them all a pointed look.

“We didn’t do that,” Neil protested.

“Naw, man, we’re not assholes.” Matt picked the stuffed cat up off the floor. “Sounds like you ran afoul of some Yuletide pranksters.”

“Hey, let’s see what vintage Richard has in his wine fridge,” Dwight suggested. The party moved to the kitchen. 

Gregor managed to excuse himself to go outside. “It’s the guys,” he told the corpse in the bushes. “Matt, Dwight, and Neil.”

“Oh, Lord, they’ll drink my good wine.”

Gregor rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly the worst of our problems.”

“Get rid of them,” Richard hissed.

“Well, obviously.” Gregor returned to the house to find a glass of wine had been poured for him. He was on a tight schedule, but he could also use a glass of wine. 

He drank it down, contemplating how he could get rid of his colleagues. Just as he finished the glass, the power went out.

“That blows,” Neil remarked.

“Yes,” Gregor thought. “Now they’ll leave.”

The moonlight streamed through all the windows. It illuminated the house in a creepy glow.

“Guess we should head out,” Dwight suggested.

“Or,” Matt spoke over him, “we can play moonlight tag.”

“Moonlight tag?!” That was the most ridiculous idea Gregor had ever heard.

The elegant grandfather clock in the house struck midnight. “Come on, Matt, it’s midnight,” Dwight pointed out.

Matt smiled. “Even better.”

Also, if you need even more Halloweenie goodness, check out this cool light show. https://youtu.be/SbK8lMi0CBk

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

Here’s another double edition. We lucked out with the weather this past weekend and were able to successfully perform A Spot On the Hill outside for all three shows.

Prompts, A New Home and The Red Door.

“Wait! Stop, stop right here!” Richard’s reanimated corpse commanded.

Gregor begrudgingly agreed, but he was secretly thankful for the break. His calves were killing him. “What is it? We have a long way to go to get to my house.”

“I know that road.” Richard struggled to point to the dirt path to his right, Gregor’s left.

“That’s not a road.”

“It’s a road, trust me. I live down there.”

“Nice attempt to lure me off onto a dark road, but we’re going to my place.” Gregor tried to move again, but Richard started to struggle.

“My house is down there!”

“I’ve been to your house, and it’s not in the deep, dark woods,” Gregor argued.

“I moved a few months ago. I wanted more privacy.”

Gregor huffed. “All the stuff we need is at my house.”

Richard rolled his eyes. “We’re both chemists, Gregor. I daresay whatever you have at your house to dispose of my body, I have at mine.”

They compared notes and soon Gregor was steering them down the dark road. 

“At least I’ll get to see my house one more time,” Richard sighed. “I do love it. Lots of windows. It is my dream house, and I only got to live in it two months. That’s irony, right?”

Gregor pedaled even harder and soon lights began to come into view. Sure enough, a stately house appeared on the horizon. It was ostentatious. Of course it was. It had dozens of windows, all lit up.

“You leave your lights on when you’re out?” he inquired.

“Security feature,” Richard replied.

The front of the house had a beautiful red door and it was standing open, swinging in the night breeze. Gregor brought the bike to a halt. “Do you also leave your front door open?”

“That I do not do.”

Well, crap.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

I’m a bit behind. My cemetery play A Spot On the Hill went into production this week. Here are my entries for Thursday & Friday.

The prompts for this edition are Conkers (look it up) and A Torn Flag.

“Did you say he killed you?” one of the other members in the group asked.

“I didn’t kill him!” Gregor protested.

“He was going to kill me, but someone beat him to it.” Richard’s corpse struggled to sit up. It was a rather revolting site to watch.

“Dude, how many people don’t like you?” asked a man dressed like a jester.

“Gavin, what do you have to say for yourself?” The woman gestured to the friar. 

“I’m sorry, okay, Sheila. Tristan was going to check the bottles for me,” Gavin explained.

“Are you really going to blame Tristan? He had to go to his grandmother’s funeral tonight.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt your petty squabble here, but what I am supposed to do with that?!” Gregor pointed to Richard.

“You can take me to the hospital so they can fix me,” Richard fired back.

“Oh, no, that won’t work, dude. You’re dead, like so dead.”

“Yeah, the spell will wear off in about five hours,” Sheila informed them. Richard was crestfallen. “But maybe you can get justice against your murderer before the clock runs out?”

They both perked up at that. “It’ll be much easier to get you back to my place now.” Gregor stood and tried to help Richard up, but his legs were less than cooperative. “Get your feet under you.”

“If someone hadn’t slammed my body into every rock and tree, this would be much easier!”

Gregor huffed and looked at the group. “Can any of you give us a ride?”

“We don’t drive here. We ride our bikes,” Gavin replied.

“How old are you all?” Gregor wanted to know.

“How are we supposed to get on a bike?” Richard asked from the ground.

Several minutes later, Gregor was sitting on a bike with Richard strapped to his back. Since his legs were already broken, they folded them up. He was fastened to Gregor with conkers on strings, of all things. Apparently, the game was good for relieving stress and Gavin was British. Richard was still having trouble sitting upright, though. 

“Do you have anything else? It’s hard to keep my head up.”

“What do you need to see? You’re dead,” Gregor remarked.

Gavin stepped forward. “I have something.” He produced his flag and started to tear it.

“No, Gavin, not your sigil,” one of his friends bemoaned.

Gavin would not be dissuaded. “No, this is my mess, it’s my job to make it right.” He ripped the flag into multiple pieces and secured Richard’s corpse to Gregor’s back. With fond wishes, the unlikely duo road off into the night.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

Something weird happened today. My mom’s work number rang around lunch. Caller ID said it was me calling her, but I have never called her on that number. I do have that number in my phone, but my phone didn’t even show a purse or pocket dial. She says she answered and it sounded like someone was crying on the other end. She kept saying my name, but no one answered and then the call cut off. She called me in hysterics, and I had to talk her off the ledge. I have no way to explain this except to say that maybe my number was spoofed. I’m sure there is an explanation, but a tiny part of me is worried it might be some sort of premonition. There’s a short story where a woman keeps answering the phone at home and hears someone crying. It happens for a year, and then her husband dies and in her distraught state at the hospital she calls home and she answers, but in the past. She realizes then she’d been calling herself from the future. Anyhow, now that’s kicking around in the back of my head. If it happens again, I’ll definitely write about it.

On to today’s prompt in my fictional story. The prompt is Color Blind.

“Gregor watched as the group, all dressed like they were from Medieval times, put their instruments aside and gathered in a circle. The one dressed like a friar raised his hands in the air. “The time is at hand, my friends,” he announced. He produced a large apothecary bottle full of blue liquid from behind his back. 

“We should get going,” Richard’s ghost pointed out. 

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute.” Gregor shook his hand at the ghost and kept his eyes fixed on the group. They reminded him of his LARPing days. Oh, how he missed those days. 

“Repeat after me, my friends. Quod semel avulsum est, iterum totum est.” The rest of the group followed his lead. When they were finished, he tossed the bottle into the flames. The glass shattered and the air filled with blue smoke.

“Did it work?” the friar asked.

“No, my limited collector’s edition figurine is still broken,” another member of the group replied.

“I said, we need to get going.” Richard tapped Gregor on the shoulder, but Gregor felt it. He looked over to see Richard’s reanimated corpse. He screamed. The corpse screamed.

Richard reached out and tried to wrap his hands around Gregor’s neck, but it didn’t work very well considering he had several broken bones. “Why are you choking me? I thought you were over it,” Gregor gasped.

“Turns out I’m still mad. You were going to kill me!” Richard shouted.

The two of them fell through the bushes into view of the group. Everyone screamed. Richard had to give up his choking effort. “Alas, my poor broken body,” he bemoaned.

Gregor sat up. “What do you expect, you’re dead.”

“Dead?” a woman in the group spoke up. She looked at the friar. “Gavin, did you mix up the bottles again?”

“No, I tossed the green bottle in the fire,” he defended.

“Damnit, Gavin. You threw the blue bottle. You haven’t mended our broken stuff, you reanimated the dead.”

Gavin winced. “Sorry, y’all. You know I’m color blind.” 

#Halloween #spooky #writingchallenge

I was a little under the weather yesterday since I got my flu shot, so I didn’t write a blog, but I’m back today. Also, get your flu shot. It’s important, especially this year.

Today’s prompts, Grandfather and Folk Music.

“Gregor knew he should get up and press on, but he couldn’t muster the energy. He kept staring up at the stars. “My grandfather told me not to go into higher academia, you know, told me it was cutthroat and ruthless. This coming from a guy who spent half his life in the military, but he kept on insisting. I didn’t listen, obviously. No, I was going to cure some major disease or make some huge discovery and win a Nobel prize, but where am I?” Gregor glanced over at the body tangled up in the tree limbs.

“I did admire you, you know, until you stole my research and thwarted my publishing attempts, and I know you did it to me because someone else did it to you. Guess my grandfather was right.

Gregor took a shuddering breath. It felt like the weight of the last 20 years was pressing down on him. “That same grandfather, he was Jewish, and he told this story from the Old Country about a king and his servant. The servant came to the king one day, all upset because he had seen Death in the garden and knew he was going to die. He asked the king to borrow his fastest horse so that he could travel to the next town ten miles over and escape Death. The king lent him the horse, and the servant rode off. The king went out to the garden and Death looked really confused. ‘What’s the matter?’ the king asked. Death replied, ‘I am supposed to kill your servant today in a town 10 miles from here, but unless he rides on the fastest horse, I do not see how he can get there.’ Then my grandfather said it was fate, and you can’t fight fate. Maybe this is fate, right here, right now.”

Gregor fell silent and the night was enormous around him. “Are you kidding me?” a voice spoke up and Gregor almost screamed. “Get your sorry ass up. Get my body up, and get moving.”

Gregor looked over to see Richard’s ghost hovering nearby. “I thought you wanted Dr. Hozier to kill me?”

“I may hate you, but I hate him even more. I’ve thought about it, and that asshat does not get to win. He couldn’t even manage the department’s budget properly.”

Gregor sat up. “Right?!”

“I may not be able to help you physically, but I know how to motivate you, Gregor. If you get to your apartment and dispose of my body, I promise to tell you something,  something I should have told you a long time ago. And then you’ll take Hozier for all he’s worth.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Now get up and get going!” Gregor sprang to his feet and removed the body from the limbs. “Can you not hit my body on every branch.” 

“I’m doing my best. I hadn’t planned for a giant tree.” As Gregor finally managed to extricate the body, a strange noise caught his ear. It wafted along on the night air. It sounded like a song his grandfather would have played, a song from Eastern Europe. “Do you hear that music, or is it in my head?” 

“I hear it,” the ghost confirmed. 

Gregor lay the body back down and slowly crept to the thicket of bushes ahead of them. He peeked through to see some sort of ceremony taking place complete with lutes and lyres. “My grandfather was right about something else. The woods are weird at night.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

I was able to get away for a little bit this weekend and make a trip with some college buds to the Carolina Renaissance Faire. It was good, but always too short, as it always is. Here are some pics from our adventures.

Playing catch-up tonight. Prompts, A Special Birthday and Branches of a Tree.

“Gregor had found the car key, and now he found himself crammed into the wayback of an SUV with Richard. “Thanks again for the assist, man,” Kevin said. Not to Gregor’s surprise, there was booze in the car. Kevin took a swig from a mystery bottle and offered it to Gregor, who declined. “You really saved my birthday,” Kevin concluded.

“Happy birthday,” Gregor said. It was more of a reflex than anything else.

“Thanks, man. I’m 22 today. Can you believe it?”

“And you wanted to dress up like a zombie?” Being a researcher, Gregor was genuinely interested in this bit.

Kevin got a little teary eyed. “My buddies here got me the greatest gift of all, the chance to overcome my greatest fear. I am terrified of zombies, but now I am a zombie, and I’m hanging out with a bunch of zombies. They signed me up for the dash, we got dressed up, we rolled up and yeah I freaked out. . .”

“But then we took him to drink in the woods and now he’s fine, and he’s ready to party with some zombies!” one of the others shouted.

“Zombie birthday fun! Zombie birthday fun!” they all began to chant. Kevin looked at Gregor expectantly, and he joined in.

“This is the best! This is the best!” Kevin crowed when the chanting stopped. “Man, your friend is really out of it. You sure he’s all right?” He reached out and poked Richard. Gregor really wished he wouldn’t.

“He just needs to sleep it off,” Gregor assured. 

“Once you conquer your fear of the undead, Kevin, maybe you can conquer your fear of the dead,” one of his friends spoke up.

Kevin visibly cringed. “You don’t like dead people either?” Gregor probed.

“No, man, if there were a dead body in here, I’d jump out of the car now.”

“Imagine that.” Gregor couldn’t help but laugh.

“What about you, man, what are you afraid of?” The question caught Gregor by surprise, as did the intensity on Kevin’s face. Gregor was suddenly at a loss for words.

The car slowed to a stop. They were close to the main road now, thank goodness. Soon Gregor would be home with his charge and he could do what needed to be done. He saw flashing lights ahead.

“Look at this traffic,” one of them bemoaned.

“Cops, cops, hide the booze,” another instructed.

Gregor’s heart fell into his stomach. As soon as the car had stopped, he was opening the trunk. “Where are you going?” Kevin asked.

“Thanks for the ride. My house is real close. I’ll go the rest on foot.” He pulled the body out after him, closed the trunk, and carried Richard back into the wood line.

He was at least closer to his house. He just needed to get around those cops. Gregor was pretty familiar with this terrain, but there had been some heavy rains lately. His foot slipped on an incline and before he could stop it, he and Richard were tumbling down a bank.

They landed in the branches of a recently felled tree. As he regained his faculties, Gregor gazed up at the stars above him. “Is this where you saw your life going when you were in undergrad?” Gregor wasn’t sure who he was asking. Was he asking the heavens, God, Richard?

“That’s my greatest fear, you know, that I’ve done all this for nothing. Years and years of schooling, endless research and writing, and what has it all been for? Where do I find myself, tangled in the limbs of a tree with my dead mentor. Really makes you think, doesn’t it?”

I hope you all have a good week. #writingchallenge #Halloween #spooky

Happy Friday! Tonight’s post will be short. The spouse and I are with friends for our annual, 2020 not withstanding, trip to the Carolinas Renaissance Fair. This is the first time we’ve been away overnight since early 2020.

Today’s prompt, A Lost Key.

“Gregor and his charge pressed on through the night. How was he supposed to get back to his place before sunrise at this rate? “Don’t suppose you have any ideas,” he quipped to the corpse.

“You killed me. You’re on your own,” Richard’s ghost replied from somewhere. Gregor couldn’t see him, but he was colder all of a sudden, so he knew the ghost was there.

Gregor rolled his eyes. “Were you not paying attention ? I didn’t kill you, Dr. Hozier did.”

“You were planning on killing me. Now you’re aiding and abetting.”

“If you’re not going to be helpful, go away,” Gregor griped.

“I hope he kills you, too,” the ghost remarked and then it was gone.

Gregor took a breath and stopped. He really needed a plan. Before he could think too much, he heard voices. Suddenly, a person crashed through the bushes. He was followed by two others. Gregor shouted and dropped the body. The first person screamed, too. The light from his flashlight illuminated his chest and face. He was pale and also kind of green and had gashes on his face. His clothes were also in tatters.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. Did you lose your car keys? I came over here to piss and dropped ‘em.”

“Kevin, did you find your keys?” one of the others asked.

“No, I found these other guys.” Kevin looked down at Richard’s body and Gregor’s heart almost stopped. “Oh, man, your friend is passed out. Gnarly make up job. Are you all in the Zombie party, too?”

The annual Zombie Midnight Run! Gregor was saved. “Yeah, we were, but this idiot here can’t hold his liquor.”

A thought occurred to Kevin as he swayed on his feet. “Dude, do you all need a ride?”

Gregor truly was saved. “Yes, yes we do.”

Kevin swayed some more. “Awesome! Find my keys and we’ll take you along!”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

Watching all the Treehouse of Horror episodes of the Simpsons. This Halloween tradition is much easier thanks to DisneyPlus. (Not a paid advertisement, just appreciation.)

Today’s writing challenge prompt, Professor.

“Gregor whirled around. A loan figure slowly stepped out of the shadows and into the only light. It was a dingy streetlight, and it bathed everything around it in this sickly, yellow glow. It made Dr. Hozier look paler than usual. Richard’s ghost was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“Dr. Hozier, but why?” Gregor managed to ask.

The former head of the department cocked his head and considered his colleagues for a moment. “I’ve watched you idiots ruin my department for years now.”

“We were cleaning up your mess.”

“You convinced me I was crazy, turned the students against me, took my tenure.”

Oh, yeah, they had done that, or at least some of it. Dr. Hozier had done plenty of it himself. “Richard there was the worst offender.” The Professor pointed to the body. “You were further down the list. I figured framing you for Richard’s death was enough, but it’s become clear to me that you had planned to off him yourself.”

Gregor sputtered. “I never . . .”

“You have the worst poker face, spare yourself. You wanted him dead. I wanted him dead. He’s dead. The question is, who gets the blame? I’ll cut you a deal, Gregor. You dispose of this body for me, and I’ll put in a good word with that journal for you.”

“The Anals? But Richard shut me out.” Did Gregor dare to hope?

“Again, Richard is dead. You have until sunrise, just to make things dramatic.”

“Wait, how are you going to know what I do?” Gregor’s eyes narrowed.

“I know a lot of things, and I’m always watching. Maybe I made a deal with the Devil tonight? Maybe I made a deal with Death itself?”

That struck a nerve. “And if I fail?” Why had Gregor asked that? His therapist was right, he really was his own worst enemy.

“You go to jail for Richard’s murder, or I kill you. I haven’t decided yet.” Dr. Hozier turned to go.

“If you gave me a ride, it’d be much faster,” Gregor pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m not getting any DNA in my car.” With that, Dr. Hozier was gone, swallowed up by the night.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky #kindofabsurd

Welcome back for another installment. Fall is my favorite season where I live. And even though the temperatures haven’t quite reached fall level yet, the leaves are changing and that smell is in the air. Fall always makes me feel like there’s magic in the air, dancing just around my fingertips.

Today’s prompt, Over A Bridge.

“Gregor waited for hours. His phone kept track of the minutes as they crawled by. He heard the others finally get in their car and leave. And yet, he still waited. He guessed Death wasn’t coming back, and maybe that was a good thing. 

Gregor pushed the ladder back out. He didn’t know what else to do with the body, so he shoved it out of the loft. It hit the ground hard. Good thing Richard was already dead. Gregor climbed down the ladder. He almost made it to the ground, but his foot slipped on one of the bottom rungs and he fell hard on his backside. He was all right, after a moment, but the same couldn’t be said about his phone. It was smashed.

Gregor managed to drag the body back to the clearing, but he was worn out. He retrieved the blanket and wrapped the body in it. Finally, the blanket’s purpose had been fulfilled. He noticed his coworkers had raided the picnic basket, taking most everything, including the drugged wine he had planned to give Richard right before he was going to jab him in the eye. Oh well, he’d worry about that later.

Gregor dragged the wrapped body down to his car. The blanket made it a little easier. When he got to the parking area at the bottom of the hill, he found that their coworkers, in their infinite kindness, had let the air out of the tires on both his and Richard’s cars. He really did work with jerks. Gregor hoped they did drink the drugged wine and died in a fiery car wreck. Maybe he could take out the whole department?

With a curse, he pulled Richard’s phone back out. His was dead, but he figured he could guess Richard’s password and call AAA. If he could just get back to his house, Gregor could stick to his original plan. And even though he hadn’t killed Richard, he could still dispose of the body appropriately. Unfortunately, Richard’s phone had just enough juice left to flash at him once before going dark.

Gregor wanted to scream into the night, but he swallowed it down. Without knowing what else to do, he pulled the body on. If he got back to the main road, maybe he could figure something out. He heaved Richard onward into the woods. They crossed the old bridge over the creek. Richard’s head hit every uneven plank, and that gave Gregor some satisfaction.

“This is all your fault,” he told the body. “If you weren’t such a jackass, not everyone would want you dead, and I wouldn’t be out here dragging your corpse around.”

Richard’s head hit another board with a thwack. “Hey, take it easy!” a voice spoke. Gregor knew that voice. He looked up and there was Richard, or the ghost of Richard, standing before him. Gregor did scream this time, and the ghost screamed.

“You killed me!” the ghost accused.

“I didn’t kill you!” Gregor protested.

“No, but I did,” came another voice from the shadows.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

I love a good, spooky short story. Whether this will turn out to be one, time will tell. I love Edgar Allen Poe and his brilliance when it comes to horrific short stories. I’ve written some spooky shorts of my own. You can read two of them in Haints and Hollers, a compilation of horror stories from Appalachia, published by Mountain Gap Books. You can pick up a copy via Amazon.

Now it’s time to check in with Gregor and his ever growing misadventure. Today’s prompt, A Ladder.

“Gregor sprang into action. He pulled the body aside, spread the blanket out, and did his best to cover the blood stains. He placed the picnic basket on top of the blanket, and with a strength he didn’t know he had, he dragged the body of his expired colleague into the woods. 

Gregor didn’t stop once the clearing was out of site. He kept going, his arms straining and sweat poring down his face. Now the blasted jacket was too hot. He could hear when the others reached the spot. “Wonder where they are?”

“The basket’s right here.”

“You think they ran off into the woods?”

“Gross. Richard has higher standards than that.”

“Any wine in that basket?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Grab a bottle and let’s go looking.”

Panic gripped Gregor’s throat. What was he doing? Where was he going? Also, why was Death still hovering around him?

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Gregor huffed through gritted teeth. Death just shrugged, very noncommittal and very annoying.

At least the answer to where he was going presented itself to Gregor. The old, abandoned barn appeared before him. Why it was here in the middle of the woods, he wasn’t sure, but he was glad it was. The old, creaking ladder on the side of the building led up to the loft. Gregor made his way to the ladder, his arms about to give out. Wait a minute. How was he supposed to get the body up there? No way.

As if anticipating his query, Death plucked him from the ground and placed him in the loft, him and the body both. It was like flying on a large, frigid cloud. “Why did you do that?” Gregor wanted to know.

Death shrugged again. “Because I could. I’d get that ladder, if I was you.”

Gregor scrambled over and pulled up the ladder. Just in time, too. He could hear the others approaching.

“Wonder if they’re making out in that barn?”

“Richard! Gregor, where are you?!”

“Onlly, olly, oxen free.”

“Text Richard, see where he’s at.”

Gregor managed to pull Richard’s phone back out and silence it before it could chime. He refused to breathe until the others decided to go back to the clearing.

“Whatever, let’s go back and eat that fancy cheese.”

Gregor drew in a long breath. “What should I do now?” he asked Death.

“I don’t know. This is your mess. See you later.”

“What does that mean?!” Gregor didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Death smiled. It was not comforting. “Take it how you like.” With that, Death was gone, leaving Gregor and the body all alone.”

#Halloween #WritingChallenge #Spooky

Happy Monday. It’s a full week of work and rehearsal for me as we put my annual cemetery play together. Our historic cemetery is one of my favorite places to be. It’s so peaceful on top of the hill. I understand why that spot was picked. It’s an honor, too, to tell the stories of the people who are buried there. (Insert Hamilton lyric line here.)

Now it’s time for another edition of my short story. Where will the prompt take us today? Let’s find out. Prompt, A Thin Jacket.

“Gregor ran up to the body lying on the hill. He’d never seen a dead body before, at least not in real life, but this guy had to be dead. There was blood everywhere. Gregor had never anticipated so much blood. Without thinking, he fell to his knees before his felled colleague and wrapped his hands around his neck, as if trying to stop the flow. It was pointless, though, for many reasons. He’d wanted this to happen, right? Yes, but at his own hands. Gregor pulled his hands back. They were covered in blood, the blood he’d wanted to spill. 

Now he was angry. Who had done this? Who had cheated him of his moment? Gregor’s eyes scanned the wood line, but it was getting dim. Dusk had descended. Without thinking again, Gregor wiped his hands on his jacket. 

“Bad mistake, that,” a voice spoke from his right. Gregor screamed and jerked. He looked beside him and there stood a tall, thin figure dressed all in black. It had sunken eyes and sallow face. It had to be . . . 

“D-d-death?” Gregor dared to ask. 

“None other,” the shade replied. 

“Why are you still here?” 

“This seemed interesting.” Death pointed a boney finger at the body on the ground. “If you plan to get away with murder, you shouldn’t wipe your victim’s blood on your jacket.” 

Gregor winced. “I didn’t kill him,” he protested. 

“But you’re the one here,” Death observed. At that moment, the dead man’s cellphone chimed. “You going to get that?” Death asked. Gregor hid his hand in his jacket and wrestled his colleague’s phone from his pocket. He didn’t need to unlock it to see the message on the screen. 

“Dude, we’re coming to crash your picnic with Gregor. That little creep is always good for a laugh. We’re parking now.” Just then, Gregor heard the sound of car doors closing down below. His fellow coworkers, they’d be on him soon. 

Gregor’s blood ran cold, and even though it was a warm evening, he was suddenly freezing. He wished he’d brought more than a thin jacket.”

See you all tomorrow! #Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

Today, I got to watch some stories through the virtual National Storytelling Festival. Hopefully they’ll be back in person next year. My spouse and I watched the ghost stories, and they were on point. I especially loved Tim Lowry doing The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe. Those stories put me in the perfect mood for part three of the Halloween writing challenge.

Tonight’s prompt is Something Witnessed at Sunset.

“Gregor climbed to the top of the hill. The blanket was draped over one arm, and he carried a laden picnic basket in the other. The sun was setting, painting the sky a deep, rich red. Yes, this was the perfect time. Ahead, he could see the other man waiting for him, his victim, completely unaware. There stood the man who had made his professional life a living hell for the past ten years, but no more. It ended this evening, here and now. Gregor knew that all he had to do to lure his nemesis out was to stroke his ego, invite him to his favorite observation spot, bring his favorite wine and expensive cheese and present him with the opportunity to ramble on and on about his brilliance. Given his plans, Gregor supposed he could have skimped on the cheese, not bought the expensive stuff, but looks were important.

The picnic basket was getting heavy, and Gregor struggled to pull it up. “Need a hand, gimpy?” the other man called down. For once, Gregor was gleeful to hear the accursed nickname. Soon he’d never have to hear it again.

“I’ve got it,” he assured the man. “You just wait, enjoy the sunset.”

“Oh yes, enjoy the sunset,” Gregor thought. “Enjoy the sunset before I jab this corkscrew in your eye.”

Gregor was drawing near to the top, practically giddy, when he heard it, or thought he heard it. A small, sharp whizzing noise, like a supersonic insect. It whizzed through the air from the clump of trees to his left. It hit the other man with a thwack, striking him straight in the neck and passing right through him, disappearing into the night on the opposite side. The man barely reacted before he fell straight to the ground, blood gushing from the bullet wound in his neck.

Gregor dropped the picnic basket. 

That’s it for right now! Tune in tomorrow for another installment. #Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

Went to NC today for a long overdue visit with my spouse’s parents. Covid19 has kept us apart for periods of time this last year and a half, but thanks to negative tests we were able to go up this weekend. (We’re also fully vaccinated.) It was a lovely day of sharing, fig picking, and flower admiring.

Here’s my writing challenge for today. It will be shorter because we’re in the car, and I have a limited amount of time before I get carsick. Hopefully this will help to build the tension in the story, though. The theme is “A Blanket.”

“Gregor wondered what type of blanket one brought to a murder. What sort of blanket was required for wrapping a dead body in? Probably something sturdy. He supposed he couldn’t ask the employee at Bed, Bath, and Beyond that. He asked about camping instead. What sort of blanket stood up to the great outdoors? If a bear attacked his campsite, what type of blanket would fair best? He was relatively satisfied with his purchase when he left the store. The blanket was even a pleasing color, but that hardly mattered. It would be red, stained crimson before the trip was over.”

#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky

Happy October! This is my favorite season, and Halloween is my favorite holiday. Usually the month kicks off with the National Storytelling Festival that fills the streets of my town Jonesborough. For the second year in a row, the festival has had to go virtual, thanks to Covid19. I miss the festival. I hope they’ll be able to be back in person for their 50th in 2022. Still, there is something pleasant about watching the stories on my TV with a glass of wine. Their production quality is top notch.

My first novel The Summer Between is now three years old! This book will always hold a special place in my heart. You can still purchase it through Amazon and directly through Mountain Gap Books.

As promised in my last blog, I am about to embark on an October writing challenge. I hope the story will come together in the end and that each piece will stand on its own. You can never tell with a challenge. The first prompt is Turning Leaves.

“He stood on the hill, looking down at the valley below. This was his favorite spot in the fall. The leaves were changing, and some trees looked like they were bleeding, their crimson leaves falling to the ground, almost like blood dripping from an open wound. The trees knew the benefit of letting things die. Some people could take a lesson from that. Some people needed to take a lesson from that. And he was going to make sure those people learned.”

Tune in tomorrow and every day after for a new piece of the story. Let’s get our October on!

#October #WritingChallenge #Halloween

Hello, world. How are you? I’m all right, I suppose. It’s October tomorrow, my favorite month of the year. That’s a bright spot, and most of my usual fall activities are back in some capacity. We are doing my cemetery play again. A Spot On the Hill is back for a 7th season. Show dates are Oct 15-16 and 22-23. I’ll post a link to tickets in an upcoming blog. I’ll be doing my True and Chilling Tales Tours again this October, too. Life is busy, per usual, but it’s all about balance because the pandemic rages on around us. It canceled some of our plans, and we’ve had to change other ones. Pivot, pivot, pivot. I’ve known more people impacted by the Delta variant than at any other time during this pandemic. I’ve also known people, some in my extended family, who have died over the last month. It’s hard to know how to process it all. It’s been hard for a while. If someone has figured it out, message me.

I’ve decided to do another writing challenge for October. The last few years I’ve done it on social media. This year, I’m going to use the blog. It will give me a reason to check in every day. I promise to keep the snippets short. That’s part of the fun, and the challenge.

There are other things going on in my life to be concerned about, beyond the pandemic. There’s illness and infirmities. There’s upheaval and turmoil in the lives of people I care deeply about. There’s someone I’m very close to that is really struggling right now with illness, and I worry that the time we have to spend together is drawing to an end. I am nowhere near ready for that. I’ll never be fully ready, but especially not now. These are the things that keep me awake at night, the things that scare me. This poem has been kicking around my head for days. I wanted to right it down somewhere.

“I Have Never Known This Life Without You”

I have never known this life without you

Which is ironic, since we’ve spent so much of it apart

Distance in age, distance in stages of life

Me in kindergarten, you having your first child

Distance in geography, Texas to Tennessee and all the spaces in between

Distance in the form of a wall, a large, monstrous, nightmare of a wall that masqueraded as love but was anything but

I feared the wall would cut us off completely, but then the light came through

A beautiful wrecking ball saved us both, saved us all

But still there was distance, college, graduate school, work commitments 

Here and there, come and go, see you for the Holidays

I’m an adult and for once we’re almost on equal footing, but not quite 

We dance to the same tune, but our steps are not in sync

We’re always slightly off in different ways




I have never known this life with out you




But I’m afraid I’ve never loved you like I should have

I’m afraid I’ve never known how to love you, how to be there for you

Was the distance too great?

Did I arrive too early? Did I arrive too late?

You introduced me to the concept of souls living multiple lives

Have we always known each other? Do we miss each other in some lives, only to be reconnected in the next?

In other lives, did we travel together, did we laugh more? Were we closer in age? Did we play Barbies on the living room floor?

Sometimes, in the dark of night, I worry this life was a mistake, that our souls weren’t supposed to cross, but here we are, and that’s why everything’s off




I have never known this life without you




In the sunlight, when I look out at the garden or see your novel on the shelf, I know we’re where we’re meant to be, even if the dance is off

You are the reason I am published

You are the reason I look at the world with a tilt of my head

You are the reason I know true love when I see it

You are the reason I talk to trees




I have never known this life without you




But oh, I am so afraid

Afraid I am woefully unprepared to support you

I say the wrong things, do the wrong things

I have no answers, only questions, and you have enough of those

I am angry at the world on your behalf

I am no Samwise Gamgee

And time feels like sand slipping through my fingers and there’s nothing I can do to stop it

Why? Why after all this distance, when we’re finally in the same place, are we still so far apart?



And I

Have Never

Known

This Life

Without

You

I Am No Samwise Gamgee