FWF, The Haunting of Free Write Friday, Nov, 02/2012

Softly, never hearing each others breathing or footsteps, they sneaked slowly up the front door of the old home. Each of the three boys moved every so silently to each window of the porch, looking in, looking for a movement, a shadow, something to tell them to turn around and run, but they saw nothing, and they came back together as a small group, and questioned each other as to whether they should venture further by going in.

It was Halloween night, and for weeks they had been planning this venture to go inside of this house, the deserted house, the one that all gossiped about being haunted. They let their parents think they were going trick or treating, but once out their front doors, they hid their costumes in the bushes, and went to meet each other at the front walk of the mysterious house.

Now they were there, with nowhere to run, but back to their homes, and none of them wanting to have to let the other know they were afraid or big cowards. As they stood at the front door, they decided to go to the back of the house. Shadows followed them as they made their way around to the back.

Tree branches scraping against the window panes, cats howling in the back ground, and glowing eyes coming from a raccoon that was making his way to his nest. The winds were gently blowing, and stiff, left over leaves could be heard scratching against each other.

It seemed like miles before they got to the back door. They stood there, no one wanting to make the first move, but the excitement of what was inside was killing them, and so the oldest shakily reached for the door handle of the big glass door. It turned, and opened, and all the boys jumped back. One of them was shaking so badly, I wondered if he had peed his pants, as I stood looking outside my bedroom window, watching to see what these young boys had in mind.

Then the boys giggled softly at each other, realizing they had let a door knob scare them so badly. They each nudged the other, not wanting to be the first to enter, and then without a prompt, something was forcing them to go forth, to come in, to see what mysteries laid behind the doors.

Once in, there was a chill that went through the boys, and they shivered as they pulled their jackets closer to them. Barely giving each other room to step, they bent down and with hands held out and only one small flashlight, they made their way to the next door.

The door squeaked as they entered, and they poked their heads in before letting the rest of their bodies come through. Shadows bounced off the walls, lining picture frames, and artificial flowers dangling from wall vases. Furniture was covered with white sheets, and there was a big, black piano sitting in one corner. The draperies were closed, and the boys wished that they had more flashlights, but as their eyes adjusted better, outlines became more clear.

They walked over to the piano, as none of the boys had one in their homes, and their curiosity begged them to slither that way. When they reached it, one of the boys sat down on the piano stool and in the quietness the piano began to play. Key after key slammed up and down, the boy was so scared he fell over backwards, and shuffling  to his feet, he got up and they all raced to the back door where they had entered.

As they got to the back door, the door slammed on them, not letting them out,  they raced as fast as they could to another room, and in their they located a winding stair case and they flew up the stairs, not waiting to see what was ahead or behind them. They did not care if they sounded like a herd of cattle as they raced up the thirty stairs.

Their breathing came in gasps, and they were bent over trying to slow the breathing down, when behind the curtains, came a hand that touched the back of one of the kids. He jumped and screamed. The others looked at him and all they could sense was fear. One of the boys stood frozen in his spot and he did urinate on himself. The other two boys grabbed his hands and forced him to move.

The oldest boy was heard crying and when the middle boy shined  the flashlight on his face, he did see tears, and then they all looked at each other and said, let’s get out of here!!!! They turned to leave but saw a shadow sliding up the stair banister, so they looked to the left and then to the right, and saw a big wooden door, and they tried the knob and it opened the door. They raced inside of it and slammed the door, and tried to lock it but they did not have a skeleton key on them.

There was another door inside this room and they threw it open, finding a closet, so each of them went inside, softly shutting the door behind them. A shawl with whispery fringes on it, slowly made its way from the top shelf and landed on one of the boys shoulders. He started to cry and said, I am scared, I don’t want to be here anymore. Let’s get out of here, what should we do, I want to go home!

The other boys put their hands over the kids face to shut him up and told him to hush. He obeyed immediately and all breathing slowed down to almost a death breath, as each listened for any sounds in the room.

What seemed like hours, only being minutes, they heard nothing, so they very quietly opened the door a crack, and eyeballs peeked out, flashing right to left, to see if they could see anyone. They didn’t see anything and no sounds were being heard, so they all got on knees and crept their way to the door.

Once out of the door, they flew down the stairs as fast as their legs would carry them, and this time when they went to the door they had first entered, it opened. They wasted no time in exiting the house and leaving the property.

The house next door, that the spy was watching the boys from was laughing, and smoking his pipe. He walked away from his window view, sure that these boys would not be back again this year.

He had gotten wind that he may have some troubles this years with young whipper snappers, and as the caretaker of the property, he had made sure the house came to no harm.

Picture It & Write It September 09,2012

Today, I am writing for Ermilia, at http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com

She had been held captive for so long by her dead husband, and now she was expressing to the world who she really was. She had lived for seventeen years with a controlling husband. She had done all he had said, followed all of the rules, but it was never enough.

He got satisfaction of seeing the terror in her eyes each time he came after her with a broom handle, or a fire poker. When he said jump, she automatically asked how high. If his meal was not prepared the way he wanted it, he would take the plate and shove the meal in her face, break the plate over her head, and demand that she start over and fix it right.

Inside she screamed tears, hating him, loving him at the same time. She had married young. She had dreams of for ever after, but soon after the vows were said out loud, and the papers signed, she became his property.

She could always remember the night before their wedding, as they lie in each others arms, hearing him profess his love for her, promising to take care of her for the rest of her life. This was the last night she ever remembered  smiles and love flowing from  her heart.

The animal that had been hiding for so many years, had shown itself, the insecurities of this man, called her husband. He was afraid that she would leave him, as his own mother left his father. He was determined that this would not happen in his own marriage, so he started the abuse of holding her hostage, never letting her go.

If she received a phone call, and he was home from work, he would sit so close to her, so he could listen to every word that was said, waiting to see if she was trying to make plans to be with another man. When they went to bed for the evening, instead of holding her in his hands, he was picking out her clothes for the next day, making sure she was not going to be able to draw attention to herself.

Bill paying and getting simple things like groceries, she could always guarantee, that her shadow would be next to her. She could not even take her own bath, as he was always found sitting near by, reading his paper.

Who she thought she was had been ripped apart and now it was hiding in the background of her mind, never knowing if she would ever reappear again.

The one friend she had for so many years, would sneak over to her house by foot, and enter through the back door, so no neighbors would see her. Her husband had met all the neighbors and had warned them that if they ever saw someone drive in to their drive way, or saw her outside, to please call him, because as he explained, his dear wife had suffered an emotional break down and was in a fragile situation. With his smiling face and sparkling teeth, they had no reason to question him, and so helped him to keep an eye on his house for him.

As the best friend observed more black eyes and bruises the two would plot on how to get her out of the house unharmed, but never being able to quite pull it off. The phone would ring, her husband calling to check up on her, scaring the girlfriend enough to go home.

One evening, he did not come straight home from work, and when he did unlock the front door he was drunk. There had been a birthday party for the boss, and after work the bunch of them ended up at the local bar celebrating. Although he was drunk, he was not so much that he ignored her and what she was doing.

She was found to be sitting by the window where she had been watching head lights go by, wondering what he was doing and where he was. He immediately asked her who she was waiting for, and when she replied that he was who she had been waiting for he became enraged.

He raced towards her and grabbed her and threw her on the couch. He grabbed her hair and with his other hand started slapping her over and over in the face, bouncing her head back and forth. She reached out and grabbed his hands and bit him. He was not prepared for this attack from her and he jumped back in pain, inspecting his bite marks.

This gave her time enough to run to her bedroom and slam the door locking it behind her.
She jerked open her night stand drawer, and there lying hidden in the shadows at the back of the drawer, was the revolver that her best friend had given her only a few days a go. Her friend said use it, please use it when he hurts you. Please don’t let him kill you.

She quietly took the revolver out and cocked it and aimed it at the bedroom door, as her friend had taught and instructed her. She could feel her breathing choking her lungs, and sweat was pouring from her brow as the fear rose inside of her.

She wanted to live, and she was going to live. She had enough of this so-called love. The door knob was being rattled as she heard words being yelled at from the other side. Let me in. I know you have someone in there. Let me in you untrustworthy bitch!

She stood still aiming the gun as he thrust his body against the door until it came slamming opened. She didn’t hesitate and shots could be heard, echoing from within the walls of the house. He fell to the ground, and silence bursted from the room. She dropped the gun, and went and called 911.

The cops came and arrested her for the murder of her husband.  A trial was placed and with the help of her girlfriends testimony, she was let go and found to be innocent against the crazy man.

A few years later, she was holding her brush,  teaching her class of students, showing them how to tilt the brush and to gently let it glide down the paper, to make the vines from the rose. With the right pressure being held, students were being taught how to express themselves. The topic for this art class was called love.

 

Ladders, Cracks, And Black Cats

A Black cat Italiano: Un gatto nero Deutsch: Eine schwarze Katze (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She hid behind the dumpster in the alley, waiting for it to go by. Her heart was beating so hard, she knew it was about to burst out of her body. It went by, she waited a moment, and then slowly, barely touching her feet to the ground, she emerged out into view. She took small, even steps, counting each one, making sure that each was of the same distance. She had a distance to walk home. She had just gotten off of her part-time job, and today, unfortunately, it was a night shift. She wanted to use the front door, but the manager always insisted they exit the rear door. As she came out of the alley, and was stepping on to the sidewalk, she forgot that construction was going on in her block where she worked. There were many objects in her way, making it difficult to walk straight ahead. She had to walk under the awning. She noticed the tall, stiff, board leaning against the wall, and became frozen in her steps. She knew she would be safest from running in to the construction company’s tools, going through the board with all those holes in it, since it was dark, but she didn’t know if she could force herself to walk that route. It was making a sort of bridge over her head. She pondered, and chewed on her nails. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it! There was that thing that had scared her so badly. It was crossing the street. She didn’t take time to think. She ran through the tunnel, and  continued running  until she came to the next block. She stopped to catch her breath, inhaling large amounts of air. Slowly she could feel her heart slow down. She started walking again, making sure she counted her steps, making sure she didn’t go to fast or too slow. She didn’t want to step in any holes, or step on any cracks. She had to walk for about fifteen minutes before she arrived at her home. A mist formed, and fog was beginning to surround her. The eerie trees above her looked like long, ugly fingers reaching out to grab her. She caught her breath, but kept walking, trying to keep track of her steps. She heard a trash can being knocked over, and saw a raccoon run across the street from fear of the sounds he had created. Above her she heard an owl signaling to her that he was watching her. Finally, she made it to the front door of her home. She took out her house keys from her pocket, and let herself in. She took two steps at a time up the stairs, relieved when she had shut her bedroom door behind her. Why did her boss make her work the night shift on Friday the 13th? Never again!