Archive for scary stories

Halloween, It was night in the lonesome October…

Posted in Poetry at large with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 31, 2011 by Mj Rains

The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispèd and sere —
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir —
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crispèd and sere —
As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried — “It was surely October
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed — I journeyed down here —
That I brought a dread burden down here —
On this night of all nights in the year,
Oh, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber —
This misty mid region of Weir —
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.”

Said we, then — the two, then — “Ah, can it
Have been that the woodlandish ghouls —
The pitiful, the merciful ghouls —
To bar up our way and to ban it
From the secret that lies in these wolds —
From the thing that lies hidden in these wolds —
Had drawn up the spectre of a planet
From the limbo of lunary souls —
This sinfully scintillant planet
From the Hell of the planetary souls?”

~~~~ from Ulalume by Edgar Allan Poe~~~~

Read entire piece here… and a very Happy Halloween to all!

Winter Reading: Under the Dome

Posted in Books with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 24, 2011 by Mj Rains

So it is a long winter for the Wit Continuum, and what better way to pass the long cold dark nights than reading the latest Stephen King book, Under the Dome.  The perfection: this book is 1072 pages long….did I mention it was long? The premise of this story that Mr. King has had in mind since 1976 goes like this: An invisible dome covers a small town and its inhabitants and what happens in the time afterward when this community is cut off literally from the rest of the world. Interesting note: two people can talk  through this clear barrier and hear each other easily, yet it will stop anything from passing through, including 60 mile an hour traveling vehicles.

So far in the beginning what I’ve read is: one woodchuck cut in half, one small plane crash with body parts falling around, one horrifying murder in detail, one 18-wheeler carrying a trailer of tree logs smashing into edge of dome and bursting into flames, one decapitate deer, and one poor woman who bleeds to death in her husband’s arms after losing her right hand…all due to the dropping of this invisible dome over a small town in Maine by forces yet to be revealed…and it may take a long time for said forces to be revealed I think.  In any case, this Wit is totally intrigued so far. Not all the text is mayhem, and the introduction of characters is flawless, as per Stephen King-ism, and as many Constant Readers will attest to.  I give myself three weeks to get this one under the belt. Will update more later. If you’ve read it, let me know what you thought without spoiling the events and ending. Thanks.

Found this interesting web-site dedicated to the book. Check it out if interested. Link

Ruth tells my mother about her hallucinations…

Posted in Esoteric, When it RAINs with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2010 by Mj Rains

I may be at my wit’s end for I have diligently working on blogs, writing short stories, revising a novel, drawing some new illustrations, and taking the Gotham Writer’s Workshop online fiction course. October is rocking people!

But I’ve just felt the need to share this strange yet true story. My mother’s neighbor is a lovely lady named Ruth, 91 years old now, who still lives on her own. My mom stops by occasionally to check in on her, bring her some lunch, or a piece of pie she’s made. They sit and talk, for Ruth is alone most of the time…well, sort of.  My mother was amazed to hear about the visions the older woman has been having. Now, one thing must be made clear here before I go on; Ruth is taking some pretty strong meds, including, uh, a morphine patch.  But her delicacy in sharing what she is seeing, and her renowned sense of what is true for her makes this Wit wonder…

Ruth tell my mother that her husband, dead for 18 years is upstairs. He came the night before, with a nurse, and Ruth was relieved. Ruth asked them what they were doing here. Her husband said he was going upstairs. Ruth told the nurse that she better stay and take care of her husband, because she couldn’t anymore since she was in bad shape herself. They went upstairs to her husband’s old room, and Ruth saw them later that night, the nurse taking her old husband to the bathroom.  This was all clear to her, she could see them plain as day, and she was awake, not dreaming.

She tells my mom about the radio station that perpetually plays in her head. She hears the songs, some oldies, and the radio announcer talking, pretty much all the time. This part, flicks on a little light in my head…where have I heard of this happening before??

Then, the other day, when my mom stopped in (she brought Ruth some left over dinner and slice of cake) Ruth told my mother that a woman was walking up the staircase. My mom, of course, got up to check, went upstairs, but no one was there. When she came back down, Ruth understood that Mom couldn’t see the woman, but insisted she could. “That’s nothing,” Ruth said. “There are two guys in the hallway over there trying to open a box. It’s a pretty big box. They’re having a hard time.”  There were no men. There was no box. Then she tells my mother that there were some kids sitting on her couch. “You can see them right now?” my mom asks. “Yes, of course,” Ruth says. They weren’t bothering her in the least.

I’m sure I don’t have to explain, my mother was a bit freaked out. We started talking about the possibility of Ruth maybe seeing dead people, ghosts, something supernatural. I haven’t looked it up, but I’m sure there are side effects to the medications the older woman is taking. Still, the story stops me in my tracts. I’m working on converting this into a short flash fiction piece for my writing class. I always love a good, creepy story.  A true one is sometimes stranger than fiction….

More later….

Feel the chill…

Posted in Esoteric with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2010 by Mj Rains

This week’s read for Books Read in 2010 is a collection of shorts called American Fantastic Tales, Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940s to Now, edited by Peter Straub.  This a great collection to give the chills…and with tales from classic authors like Ray Bradbury, John Cheever and Shirley Jackson it is quite a ride.  Though I found some of the stories too dull to find out what the creepy chill was all about, some sent me over the edge.  A few I’d read previously, like Shirley Jackson’s Daemon Lover, and an especially strange story, which over the years I’ve always called “the rabbit story” call Stone Animals by Kelly Link. (this story has nothing to do with Easter, I warn you, but plenty to do with haunted houses and haunted rabbits).

One of the best surprises, and perhaps the scariest short story ever written was Prey by Richard Matheson.  I remember this story made into a short horror film for a TV series called Trilogy of Terror in 1975.  It is one of those movies that you see as a kid and always remember.  It starred Karen Black (a cool horror actress around that time, boy could she scream!) as the main character, Amelia, who buys a creepy looking Zuni Warrior doll as a gift for her boyfriend.  It is said that the spirit of the warrior is locked in the doll.  You can probably guess what happens–yeah, it comes to life and tries to kill her.  I actually found the film on YouTube but I cannot get the link to work, so if you’re interested just type in Trilogy of Terror on You Tube home page.  It will come up in 3 short parts.  It seems a bit cheesy now, but when you’re a little kid, you know?…. The written story was better and I even jumped when the phone rang as I was reading it…

Other best stories to note:   Jack Finney’s I’m Scared,  Joyce Carol Oates’ FamilyThe General Who Is Dead by Jeff Vandermeer,  Nocturne by Thomas Tessier,   and my favorite short story by Stephen King called  That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French. (This is a suspenseful story that is obviously about deja vu, and after reading it the first time in King’s collection I thought it was so well written I seriously wondered if any writer could top it.  I still wonder.)

If you feel the need for a chill…pick this one up or check your local library.

Below Ground

Posted in Continuum Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 30, 2009 by Mj Rains

moongraveyardThis little tale came from the legend that if a black cat walks across a grave during a full moon, the dead person will rise.  Hope you enjoy.  Pic by winterwillow89-photobucket

Below Ground

It has not been easy
you know….the wait.
We’d all been there too many times.
Waiting for the full moon…
waiting for the black cat…

Then it happened.
Barnabey, over there, plot 182
on that full moon in October
caught himself a black kitty,
that traipsed right across his goddamned
tombstone.

Barnabey hardly knew what to do.
Suddenly his arms worked
and his face muscles (well, what was left of them)
and he took a breath, he sneezed,
all that fifty year dust.
We all sent him messages, “GET UP!”
“GET OUT!”

He rolled over, which wasn’t easy in a coffin,
but Barnabey was a skinny guy,
and he pushed up with his back
and his skinny ass
busting through the rotted wood, and
the worm-worked soil.

It was a quite fresh and pleasant.
Scared the shit out of the cat!

“Now what?” he said.
God, he was so stupid.
Then the cat ran, ran, over more graves.
A regular celebration.  Many re-births, many awakenings.
What a sight it was.  Not for the faint of heart.

Mine was missed, yet again,
yet I was the loudest.
All the others got to rise up…
some dead only a year or two,
like that screwball drunk  who killed
three people last year with his car…
he got up…he dug himself out.

Not me, dead for a century….waiting
for the precise conditions…

The moonlight still glowed.
“What do we do?” they were all saying, stupid idiots.
“What do we do?”

“Go get that fucking cat for me!” I kept screaming.

Then I waited…

 

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