Johnny was the bad boy. He was a bully to his sister when he was young. He took her toys a way from her. He jumped out and scared her. He liked anything that would make her get scared or cry.
Ava and Don were his parents. They saw what he was doing many times but they would always come back with the same remark; boys will be boys. He will grow out of it.
When Johnny went to middle school and upper grades, he was always being called into the office for skipping days. The principal hated his smart-alec attitude. He would try talking to him, threatening him, calling the parents; but nothing worked. The principal felt guilt for thinking he couldn’t wait to get that kid out of his school, but he did think it and often.
Johnny did end up quitting school in the tenth grade. School seemed to get better and calmer after the bad kid left, but out on the streets it became eerie. His parents told him he was old enough to get a job,” so get to it”.
Johnny had several jobs as cooks, dishwasher, waiters but after a few weeks he just didn’t go back. There was something definitely wrong with this kid.
It was October 31st, 1967. Johnny and his hood friends were out. Their goal was to destroy as many properties as possible with eggs, toilet paper etc. They had all been drinking and probably would have been better off sitting in jail.
They came upon an addition where the houses looked neat and complete with tidy yards. At least two vehicles sat in each driveway. This was going to be their major drop for their dirty treating for the night.
They hid under a big, old elm tree. They got all their supplies out and divided them with in the group. One of the boys raised his hand to throw the first tomato.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a huge, dark, wispy shadow. It was coming towards them. Although it was dark, the shadow seemed darker and scary looking. He dropped the tomato and looking at the other guys, each just shrugged their shoulders as if saying, “get over it fraidy cat.”
The shadow came closer and closer. Soon it was hovering over the group of boys. Without a blink of an eye, it sucked them up like the end of a hose on a professional sweeper. In a poof, they were gone.
What do you think happened to those boys readers? Can you fill in the end of this story?
Party getting close
Push those books close
Hurry up bell
No time to spell
Class bell rings
Kids all sing
Time for the fun
No time for shun
These are the memories
Of Halloween parties for me.
I was invited by one family member to lunch and to come back here to roast pumpkin seeds. Times seemed confused as to what time we were to meet and plans almost fell through.
In the meantime after receiving my first invitation, I turned around and invited another family member to the same lunch. My son and his family showed up and so it wasn’t a disaster after all.
We ate our lunch at Culvers. This is a great place for burgers and ice-cream. We chatted and afterwards they invited me to go to Menards with them. We naturally went to the Halloween section, which I believe, all my three adult children love, including myself.
I bought a big pumpkin that lights up. I wanted to place it in my window and it had to be big because I am up on the fourth floor and I wanted cars to notice it and smile.
I don’t like admitting that I walk worse today than three months ago; but I do. It was unfortunate, that there were no electric carts to ride on, The good thing was, my two grandsons said they would be happy to push me in one of the store’s wheelchairs.
I felt embarrassed, but the feeling didn’t last long. The two boys had a great time pushing me. People looked at us three and smiled. Some commented I had good looking chauffeurs and I agreed. I was one proud grandma. Not everyone has the honor of being pushed by two handsome, young men.
After we were all finished shopping, my family put my bought items in my car. They boys hugged me and told me they loved me. My son hugged me and told me he loved me. My heart burst, as I realize my illness is only that; an illness. Nothing else has changed.
Here are a couple of photos I took while we were there. Did you think I would not use my camera? Wrong! I did and will remain doing so as long as I can hold a camera in my hands.
The house stood back a mile from the road. Gravel covered the path leading to the rickety, front, paint-free door. Shutters slammed against the weathered siding in the strong winds. I stood in front of the once famous estate.
Now people-free. Only the spirits of once residing residents remained. It was if you could almost see them, their moans were so loud.
I went up to the door. I didn’t have to turn the knob, as it gently rocked to and fro in rhythm with the wind. I stepped over creaky boards and stood in the middle of the living room.
Furniture draped with off-white sheets. Spiders taking care of their young in beautifully built webs. What was once heavy velvet draperies, now hung to the side, shattered and torn.
Above the fireplace, there was a large oil painting of the couple who had built this home. He had built it as a wedding gift for his beloved.
He wondered what stories the painting could speak of. He was sure he would love to hear them. He walked into the kitchen and everything was in its place. Nothing standing on the cupboards, the table empty.
The strange thing though was, although there was no living person around besides himself, there obviously was something living within these walls.
When you looked up and down at the walls and the windows, they were graced with beautiful Ivy. It had made its home to the entire room.
Looking to mate with each vine, they had intertwined themselves and weaved a delicate scene display all across the ceiling.
He stood back a little as this wondrous sight gave him slight shivers. He took one more glance and then turned and walked towards the strong, detailed oak stair case.
One step in front of the other, he made his way to the top. The Ivy had extended its beauty into each of the four bedrooms, gracing the doorways, running through the floorboards, and covering each glass window pane.
He saw something. He walked closer to the glass. How intricate, he thought. In each pane was a form. Yes, a human form. There were multiple head shapes of people. He remembered the paintings on the stair wall and rushed back to them.
Standing and mentally memorizing each photo, he went back to the room with all the windows. Oh my gosh, he thought, these precisely woven vines had carved out faces. Each of these faces matched the photos he had just looked at on the staircase.
He was astounded. He stood their taking in all the details when suddenly he felt a choking hold around his neck. He instantly placed his hands to his throat, trying to force what had a hold of him.
He squirmed and twisted but with each turn, the rope got tighter. With all his might, he thrust himself backwards. He fell with such force, he nearly knocked himself out when his head hit the floor.
He sat up and looked at what had grabbed hold of him. Ivy, Ivy had tried to attack him. He scrambled to his feet and he could hear moaning. A moaning of someone starving. It was as if the stomach acid was churning from lack of nourishment.
This house wasn’t haunted. The souls of each person whom once lived here, were still alive within the walls. The Ivy was their guardian, nurturing, feeding, and training them.
He turned and ran out of the house as fast as he could. He never looked back and he never returned.
Two friends, both 12 years old, hung around together constantly. These two boys were always getting called-out on being too mischievous. They didn’t really get into trouble with the law; but they were constantly testing the waters.
It was a dreary day. In fact, it was January 1, 2014. School was on break and these two, Ryan and Mark were bored. They decided to go out on an adventure. They didn’t know where they were headed. All they knew was that they had to be back by the time their parents got home from work.
They headed down the gravel road. They kicked rocks. They tried to see who could throw the stone the farthest. The boys raced to see who was the fastest. They laughed and didn’t really notice anything about their surroundings.
Ryan and Mark came upon the old house. It was worn down. The story was, an old man went nuts and killed his wife years ago. There hadn’t been anyone interested in the property so it became abandoned. The paint was gone. Windows were broken.
Their parents told them to never go too close, because they could get hurt. Today was different. Having nothing to do led them closer to the front door. They both became quiet as they listened for any unfamiliar noises to shout out at them.
Hearing nothing, Mark turned the door handle. It was broken and the door slowly, squeaked open. Mark and Ryan looked at each other. Both pairs of eyes looking at the others for answers to their question; should they go in.
Mark didn’t go in. He went to the side windows and tried to see the best he could while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Coming back, and knowing they were safe, they ventured in the front door.
Spider webs greeted them. Dirty, white sheets covered the furniture. Spots of old blood still rested upon a couple of the sheets. Ryan shivered, a little from the unknown. Mark ventured to each piece of furniture, lifting the sheets, trying to imagine what was in the mind of the detectives who had once hung out here.
They then explored the kitchen and the bathroom. Seeing nothing exciting they decided to go up the stairs. The long set of stairs looked warped and uneven. Their first step set off a loud creak. Both boys stopped in their tracks as if waiting to see if maybe someone had heard them.
Seeing no one they continued to climb the squeaky stairs. One stair caved a little and Ryan jumped quick to the next stair afraid he was going to fall through. Once to the top they saw four closed doors.
Opening each one they saw a bed and two dressers. One had a big oval mirror on it and the words murderer were carved in the dust. They left that room and walked into each of the others. They all looked pretty much the same; except this room was bigger and it had a fireplace in it.
They took the dusty sheet off the bed and laid down on it. It was pretty soft which led them to both use the bed as a spring-board. Laughing and tumbling they spent several minutes on the bed.
When they tired of this they sat down and they each pulled out wrapped sandwiches they had made earlier. Ryan had a bottle of pop that the two shared.
Afterwards they both went back down the creepy stairs and they saw a door that was nailed shut going off from the kitchen. They had to investigate this. They worked and worked and finally broke the board.
There were no lights but they could see it led to a basement. The stairs here were cement and both boys headed down. More spider webs attacked them and they were busily wiping them out of their faces.
When they got to the bottom they saw old pieces of chairs and broken picture frames. They saw things crawling on the floor as if to escape being stepped on. There were three basement half-sized windows that provided a bit of light.
One looked like it had held an old coal furnace. There were several black pieces of rock still laying in a pile. The other two rooms looked like they were used for storage. There was one small door that led off of the coal room.
Ryan tried the door handle and it too, was broken but opened with ease. He walked inside but there was no window so he could see nothing. Mark waited on the outside for Ryan to say it was clear to enter.
After a few minutes ticked by and Ryan saying nothing, Mark called out to his friend. ” Hey, Ryan, you ok? What you see in there?” There was no response. ” Come on, quit trying to scare me. You know I don’t scare easy”, he said with just a tiny quiver in his voice.
Still no reply. Mark’s legs became cement. He knew something was wrong. He realized he should go in to check on his best friend; but his legs wouldn’t move. He began cursing himself. He called himself a chicken for standing there and he argued with himself about going further in.
He finally won, and his feet began to move. He walked in the dark room but didn’t see anything or Ryan. ” Come on Ryan, joke’s over. This isn’t funny anymore. I think it is getting time to go home, come on, let’s get out of here.”
Nothing, no sound, no stirring, no Ryan. The door slammed shut. Mark jumped and about peed his pants. Before his heart could quit racing a hand came over his mouth and he was drug into a secret door he had not noticed.
Alright dear friends and followers of my blog; complete this story.
It is almost Halloween night. Time for kiddies to get excited to dress-up and go door to door for treats. A time for bored teens to do things they will feel ashamed of the next morning.
I used to get so excited. I could go out after dark. I could walk up to door and ask for candy. The biggest memory I have is when I was about eight years old. When I went to school we had a big party at school.
Included in that was guessing who each other was. A parade of each of us all in a circle so we could show off our costumes. Dunking for apples and lots of eating candy. The costume I worse to school for the party was the same costume I wore that night for Trick-or-Treating.
I have to admit when I look at the photo of way back then, I looked cute, but getting around in the costume was so wrong. Mom had dressed me up in my dad’s flannel shirt. She attached a false mustache over my lip. She had me wear some too-long pants of a cousin’s of mine and made me wear a big, thick, brown belt to help hold them up.
Then the finale came when she asked me to hold my arms stretched out as far as they would reach. While I was doing this, she took a broom handle and shoved it down the back of my body so that it was sticking out both arms.
Ta-da! I was a natural-born scarecrow; but think about an eight year old trying to walk anywhere with any grace with a stick stuck in your body cross ways. Mom and dad didn’t believe in buying costumes or masks. They put their heads together with grandparents and invented our costumes, then made them with what ever they could find.
Now a days money is spent for costumes that are made so cheap they can barely be held together for 24 hours. The make-up for costumes reminds me of theatrical make-up at its worst or best.
So now that I told you about my Halloween as a child that one year; share your memory of your special Halloween night with me. Oh, by the way, I never had any more terrible costumes like that. I think I complained so much that the following years was much easier.
If your answer is yes, watch this Halloween trick I found on U-tube
Rich was a junior in high school. He had parents that were well-known in the small community. His mom was a nurse at the local hospital. His father was an estate attorney.
Rich always carried a bit too much flare when it came to his confidence levels. He knew he was popular. He knew his looks were better than most guys in his class. He wore the best clothes, the newest shoes.
But what lacked in Rich was the caring attitude that we so desperately need in this world. He was a ME guy. Everything he did and thought of was within the circle of his eyes.
It was nearing Halloween. A group of his friends were tossing ideas around on what tricks they could pull off without getting caught. After several talks they decided to soap and toilet paper the minister’s home.
Rich had his eye on Darlene, the minister’s daughter for months. She was a knock-out. Curvy little body, long blonde hair, sky-blue eyes. The problem was, Darlene wouldn’t give Rich the time of day.
He would leave notes at her locker. He had flowers sitting on her front window of her car. He had even taken the time to go to the store and buy her the most expensive card he could find and mail it to her. Nothing worked. He could have charmed the pants off a frog easier than he could get Darlene to look his way.
The night before Halloween, the group of guys went shopping for the soap and toilet paper. With all supplies bought, he anxiously awaited darkness to arrive Halloween night.
The guys gathered at the local burger joint. After eating they got in their cars and parked in the downtown public parking area. They put their black masks and gloves on and started towards the minister’s home.
There they stood, all silenced, excitement racing through their blood, scoping out the property. A rustling could be heard within the trees. No one took notice as it was a fall evening and there was a breeze that made you want to grab for your jacket.
Each one started taking one step closer to the front porch. As they approached they saw the big oak tree that during a hot summer day would provide ample shade. They got their toilet paper out and started tossing it up in the air. Before long it looked like long, white icicles were streaming from the roof top.
They covered their mouths to quiet the rumbles of laughter as they stood back and admired the work they had performed. Proud of their performance, a few of them sneaked around to the side of the house. They soaped the windows until no one could see either in or out of them.
Rich hung back as he wanted to be the sole person to soap Darlene’s car. He took the two bars of soap out of his pants pockets and walked towards her car. With one bar in his hand he started decorating her side windows as if he was an infamous painter.
He did both sides and the back window. Walking towards the front window he heard the rustling of the tree leaves again. This time it was a much rougher sound and it caused him to stop in his tracks and look up towards the skies.
At that precise moment, a creature jumped from the trees. It pounced on him so hard it knocked him to the ground. He immediately covered his face with his hands to protect himself.
He tried screaming out for help to his friends, but no sounds were to be heard. Two huge wings covered his body and whisked him up in the two, giant claw feet and carried him off to a tree down the street.
The creature let loose of her hold on him and he dropped gently in a pocket of branches. ” So, I hear you want to meet me. I have felt your stares through my clothes. I can hear your mind letting me know that you want nothing more to do with me than to get my clothes off and make a score you can brag to your friends about.”
Rich opened his eyes and looked up into piercing blue eyes. He could pick out the familiar sounds of Darlene’s voice, but this voice was ragged. A scary and lulling voice that make him want to pee his pants right there.
He started to say something. Anything that would help him escape the claws of this creature, but she leaned into him and covered his mouth with her beak. Forcing his mouth open she breathed a terrible taste into him.
It made him feel instantly dizzy, light-headed. He was scared. He tried to wiggle his way out from under her, but she had the wings of super powers. He tried once again to scream for his buddies, but his mouth became dry and frozen.
Darlene flipped him over on his stomach and started picking at his hair with that sharp beak. Within a few minutes she had picked him clean. He felt his head and tried to scream as he discovered he was totally bald.
She poked him over and over on all sides of his neck, leaving large welts. He looked worse than any Frankenstein anyone had ever seen. She flipped him back to his back side and picked at his forehead. She picked until she had opened an area wide enough to see part of his skull and brain.
She ate a small part of him and then blew in some hot liquid out of her nostrils. With pieces of fine twigs and leaves she sewed him back together, like a newly formed nest. She picked him up, and flew him back to where her car was and dropped him down on the ground.
” I hope you enjoyed meeting me face to face Rich. I doubt you will ever forget this Halloween. In fact, I am pretty sure you will not even remember the Rich you once knew. For you will never walk the halls of school with an attitude that you are all that and more. You will coward in the halls, you will duck into the bathrooms. You will sit in the back row of classes. You will learn a lesson that not even your parents could ever teach you.”
With that, she flew back up into her tree, waiting for the next victim.