We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea

-The Garden of Prosperine
by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Clover Boonan takes the bus to work, she’s taken the same bus..the 477 for the passed ten years. Before that it was called the “S-4″ but it was the same route and much like the town of Larkspear it hadn’t changed much in a very long time.

 She tries to sit somewhere in the middle and she listens to tapes she recorded herself; they don’t follow any musical style or artist. They’re just sounds and voices and phrases that the Mortician likes to fill her head with before she turns the key to the Prep Room at the Funeral Home she’s worked at for over 20 years and disappears from the world of the living into the home of the dead. 

When she was about 12 Clover wanted to be a writer, she wanted to write about demons and ghosts and cemeteries and the living dead. She wanted to dress in black and never smile and she wanted to live in one of those old Victorian style Mansions on Basam Hill. 

Then one summer, after she turned 18  her Mother’s friend offered her a job at the Leaning Birches Cemetery in Larkspear.

Had Clover thought it was cool in those days to smile she would have.

Instead she looked up from her book (must’ve been something by Anne Rice…of course) and she shrugged, “Sure.” Was all she’d said from under her heavy black shadowed eyelids. “ I think I’d fit in there.”

 That of course turned out to be so far from the truth it was a joke. 

The  Morticians Clover worked for were two brothers that inherited the Funeral Home from their Father.

Hunter and Calvin liked to sing Elvis and Frank Sinatra Songs while they worked, they attended every single Science Fiction Convention to come to town and they always dressed up as the bad guys from a show called “ Doctor Who” 

“ You know Clover, “ Hunter suggested one day “ you’re looking a little pale around the gills. Why don’t you go out and walk through the Memorial Park? All that sun, all that white marble. That’s put some color on you really fast.” 

“ No thanks” Clover said from the supply cabinet where she was taking inventory. 

“ Hey Clover” Calvin said with no room for debate “ why don’t you go out to the Memorial Park and do some maintenance? Rake up the leaves, clean up the dead flowers. That sort of thing. In fact, you should probably hop to it before you loose the Sun.”

Then Calvin opened a package on his desk and pulled out a little toy space ship that hoped you would live long and prosper when you pushed a little button on its  underside.

He held the toy up to his brother, “ Score.” He said with awe.

 Score. “ Hunter echoed back with reverence.

Clover was odd and pale and wore too much black but in the end she found out it was impossible to be around Hunter and Calvin Larkspear and not end with some color in your life.

It took a few years but Clover made it all the way through Mortuary College, she attended Comic Book Conventions and she even got it into her head that she might start writing some day.Mysteries were her thing now and the only horror books she read anymore were true crime novels.

Over the years she couldn’t read or watch a horror movie with out laughing out loud, so she have them up ages ago.

But when she put her headphones on and took that bus ride to work it was music she thought about. She loved the way the notes went together and the stories the songs told and she loved the voices, those lively colorful voices that wanted to tell you their secrets.This was the world she was in the day the lady in the gray linen shirt dress got on the bus.

The woman dropped some change into the fare box and carefully made her way down the aisle as the bus pulled away from the stop. As she walked towards Clover Boonan, something about the dress yanked out of her day dream of rock stardom and to the little black belt that circled the woman’s dress.

It looked like one that Clover use to own.

The edges of the belt were finished off with purple thread and because of that the belt had been considered flawed and she had bought it for less then dollar.And the dress…that dress looked like one of four shirt dresses her Mother had donated to the Funeral Home last winter. They had a closet full of donated clothes that they dressed  Jane and John Does in. Jane and John Doe were people the County brought to Leaning Birches, which had some years back devoted at least 20 acres of the Cemetery to the surrounding cities less then fortunate citizens to be buried.

Calvin and Hunter had started the “ Closet” because the idea of burying people in sheets and plastic bothered them. “ I’ve buried Gold Fish with more dignity then this, “ Hunter had mumbled one day as he prepared John Doe 21704 for his casket. The next day the brothers brought in some clothes and the closet grew from there.

Clover decided it was nothing, the belt and the dress weren’t unique. But the thought raced around her head all the same, “ no-  they’re not unique but those things are yours Clover. You know it…that’s your Mother’s dress.

The woman took a seat across the aisle from Clover and she smoothed her dress out before she sat down and Clover  just knew the woman was going to look over at her and smile.She moved her eyes forwards and tried to concentrate on her tape where a man was growling into her ears that he could do dirty deeds for cheap.

Now Clover could smell the faint sweet odor of Jasmine, her Mother’s perfume. The thing of it was Clover’s Mom has worn that scent for so long she can’t smell it on herself anymore and she has a tendency to wear too much of it now. So all of her Mother’s clothes, no matter how many times you wash or dry clean them the always smell like Jasmine Delights by Lucia.Lots of ladies that age wore that scent, Clover told herself,  lots of women that age wore that style of dress and lots of them had that hair style too.  Clover did hair and makeup at the Funeral Home and of all the things she had to do that was the task that worried her the most.

“ It’s cinchy Clover,” Hunter explained on the afternoon she had finally run out of excuses for not doing  hair “ it’s a pretty basic style just take the small barrel curling iron and make three curls on the top, two on each side and brush it out.”

It was  called it the Granny  Brush Out and even though it turned out it was an easy do Clover usually had to cheat and use bobby pins to hold the waves above the ears  up.

Clover’s eyes shifted to her right, and of course right  above the woman’s ear were two crossed bobby pins with a tiny bit of cream colored thread to hold them in place.

As the bus slowed down and pulled over to the next stop Clover hoped the woman would do what most of them did when someone got on the bus, the seated passengers  looked out the window. And the Grey Lady was no exception. She turned her head too as the next passenger started towards the back of the bus and when she did Clover’s eye went to the woman collar bone.

Just under her white linen collar it was there, just like clover knew it would be because she was the one who put it there.

The little line of puckered skin held together with string.

Clover had made that incision herself and she had gently reached inside of this woman and found the artery .

And then Clover embalmed her.

She was sure of it as the woman turned and looked at Clover and smiled and when she did Clover decided she knew this woman.

Clover after all had shaped the woman’s mouth into a small smile with her own hands and she had brushed her hair and put blush on her cheeks and colored her pale lips with a soft shade of red.

The Gray Lady was a dead Lady and she was riding the bus with all of the other morning commuters like she belonged there. She fussed a little more with her dress and her hair and then she reached up and pulled the yellow cord and the bus slid to a stop.

She got up and before she could pass Clover, Clover reached out and touched her hand, still bearing traces of the power she had dusted on to give the woman’s hand’s some color. “ Where are you going? “ was all Clover could think to ask.

The Gray Lady looked down at Clover and smiled and she leaned towards Clover a little and said, “ I’m just visiting dear, just like everybody else.”

“ Just Visiting. “

for more ” Weirdness ” visit

Weird New Jersey

This was a comment left for a post I wrote called ” Did You Check Under The Bed “ ….  I thought I’d go ahead and run Scott’s comment as a post- it’s a wonderful read about a great show.

 When you’re done visit his site and enjoy…I know I did!

anita marie 

I found your blog while doing my monthly search for all things Nightmare Theatre online, and as usual I enjoyed the reminisces of people who remember the show with as much fondness as I do. I was born in 1968, and watched it religiously from when I was three to when it went off the air in the late 1970s. (As cheesy as many of the films seem now, I’ll take them over 98% of the dreck on the market today.)

 Poe was a favorite of mine as well. (The House on Haunted Hill was the bomb, and his performances in Roger Corman’s Poe adaptations were absolutely unbeatable.) I was also a big fan of the Hammer fare, with Curse of the Werewolf and Brides of Dracula (both regulars on Nightmare Theatre’s sometimes repetitive schedule). One of my favorite memories, though, was the showing of The Mole People followed by Invasion of the Saucer Men, a double-bill which I repeat for nobody’s pleasure but my own about once a year. God bless VHS and DVD technology.

The program was such an influence on me that I am now a professional writer focusing on–you guessed it–all things horror, from award-winning fiction to film history and criticism. Since there has been very little written up about KIRO-TV’s late night show and it’s star, Joe “The Count” Towey, I decided a few years ago to start a fan site devoted to both, which–in light of web host problems over much of 2007–I had to rebuild this last month. (Just in time for Halloween! Forget Christmas; we Nightmare Theatre addicts know what the best holiday of the year is.) Anywho, if you are interested in revisiting a bit more of your childhood, check out my site (Nightmare Theatre NW) at www.nightmaretheatrenw.net.

I have a page devoted to nothing but reminisces like yours, and you’ll probably get a kick out of reading the television schedules for the Friday nights you found yourself–like me–glued to the tube.

It’s nice to see that others are trying to keep this small piece of Northwest history alive. Keep up the great work!

Scott Aaron Stine

P.S. The Scary Mary clip is absolutely hilarious! It’s amazing what a little bit of creative editing can achieve. (Now if modern filmmakers were at least half as clever, some of the more recent horror fare might by as “scary” as they claim.)

I don’t know much about Unkle Pigors, but I first saw this music video the other day and now I can’t get the song out of my head.

Yes!!  Our Gwenerrella has a spooky story to tell you!!

Hi!  I gotsa spooky story ta tells ya!!  My friends wanna hear it too.

Theys Loodlelalla an’ Sassy. 

Loodlelalla gotsa black eye from beatin’ up da bully dat was teasin’ Sassy.

Sassy is one a my favouritest friends, she’s funny an’ smart, an’ she lissens ta me.

Once upon a time, there was a fam’ly that liveded by a semmaterry.  There was da Momma, Daddy, an’ three little kids.  One day, Momma askded da biggest one to go to da store an’ buy some libber for dinner.

 Da biggest one goed to da store an’ bought some candy, and toys for de kids, an’ then dinnunt have any money leftded for da libber. She was scareded to go home, but she knowed Momma was gonna be lookin’ for ‘em. 

So da kid stopded in da semmaterry and founded somebody that was dead but not inna ground .  Da kid tookded out they’s libber an’ took it home for Momma to cook for dinner. 

When dinner was already, da kid dinnunt wanna eat none, and said they tummy hurted.  Momma sended her ta bed and tol’ her ta feels better. 

Den she goed asleep and got waked up later, accause she heared somebuddy walkin’ and sayin’. “I want my libber!” 

She getted real scareded, and hided under the blankets, and acted like she was asleep. 

But she could hear dem feets walkin’… 

Thump!  Thump!  Thump! 

An’ she could hear ‘em sayin’… 

“I want my libber!” 

It getted louder an’ closer.   

Thump!  Thump!  Thump! 

“I want my libber!” 

Den she could hear de buddy she takeded da libber from walkin’ onna driveway. 

Crunch!  Crunch!  Crunch! 

Da girl feelded unner the piddow an’ feelded da candy unner there.  She getted even more scareded, an hollered for Momma. Momma dinnunt say nuthin’, an Daddy dinnunt, nobuddy sayed anything when da girl callded for ‘em.   

She getted up an’ peekded out da winnow and dere was da man hers takeded da libber from, comin’ up onnna porch. 

“I’s onna front porch, I wants my libber!” 

The door wented creeeeeeeeeeeeeeek an she could hear da man inna house!  She getted sooo scareded dat she started cryin’, real quiet.  

Thump!   Thump!   Thump! 

“I’s inna libbing room I wants my libber!” 

Den da girl heared da man onna first step goin’ up to da bedrooms.   

Groooooooaaaaaannnnnnnn!  Goed the loose bored.

“I’s onna first step I wants my libber!” 

Thump!  Thump! 

“I’s onna second step I wants my libber!” 

Thump!  Thump! 

Da girl was snifflin’ by den, an’ the piddow was getting’ wet. 

Thump!  Thump! 

“I’s onna forth step I wants my libber!” 

Hers tried to holler but she counnent make any noise. 

Thump!  Thump! 

Thump!  Thump! 

Thump!  Thump! 

“I’s onna sebbenth step I wants my libber!” 

Now da girl getted eben more scareded accause she knowed dere was onny ten steps to da bedrooms. 

Thump!  Thump! 

Thump!  Thump! 

“I’s onna las’ step I wants my libber!” 

Da girl was so scareded dat she wetted the bed and was cryin’ loud. 

Thump!  Thump! 

Thump!  Thump! 

Thump!  Thump! 

 “I’s at yous bedroom door I wants my libber!” 

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!   Now da kid could smell da man, an he smelded awful. 

“I WANTS MY LIBBER!” 

But Daddy neber tellded us what happeneded to da kid.  He neber telleded us if da man getted his libber back ever. 

On Halloween Night we used to love to do things like test drive Mortality.

Here’s how we did it:

Blood Mary

You know that legend about Bloody Mary? You’re supposed to stand in front of a mirror, in the dark ( well, use some candles I mean- duh- if you can’t see what’s going on you’re out of luck ) and chant the name ” Bloody Mary ” three times- then she comes out of the mirror and kills you.

I’m not sure how she does it- though I’m guessing sharp objects are involved.

I think the idea is to get somebody you don’t like to do this- but I could be wrong.

We tried it- doesn’t work

but it was fun.

The Girl At The Side Of the Road

Every Halloween some Dead Prom Queen is supposed to be on some road waiting for somebody to give her a ride home

 From what I understand this story involves a girl who dies in a car accident on her way home from the Prom and somebody will pick her up and drive her home and when they get there they turn to the back seat and she’s gone and her parents come out to tell you her sad story.

We went looking for her too- but we decided if we found her we’d make her go ” Shoulder Tapping ” with us.

Shoulder tapping is what we called it back in the 70’s when you’d hang around in front of the 7-11 and try to get people to buy beer for you- which shows you how smart we were- we always did it in our neighborhood so we were always sober by the end of the night.

And we didn’t see a ghost either.

Darn.

Thirteen Steps To Hell

We have at least two cemeteries here in Washington with stories about how in one crypt or in one grave there are Thirteen Steps Leading to Hell. The Doorway to the steps is guarded by a Witch who will give you the Second Sight if you sell your Soul to the Devil who is waiting for you at the bottom of the 13 Steps to finalize the deal.

To bad the Sight doesn’t kick in before you get to the Bottom of The 13 Steps.

 Then You’d see clear as day that the Devil takes you to Hell and if your plan was to rule the world with your Powers-  you are so going to be disappointed- toasty- but very disappointed.

Message From The Beyond

Everyone goofs off with a Ouji Board on Halloween.

Everyone knows those things are demonic.

Everyone doesn’t get together three or so  friends, agree on a phone number

as the ‘message’

let their inncoent bystander ( and former ) friends call it

only to let them learn they’re dialing

the intake desk at a local Mental Hospital.

Hey, it’s funny-and like I said you shouldn’t mess with those things…

and on Halloween of all Nights.

Dingbats.

To end this  let me remind you: 

Life is short-

Enjoy Halloween and all the

rest of the year too

amm

Excorcising the Dog
an unusually short play
by yours truly

The Players : Madison Cartwright: Madison speaks with a Southern drawl. Her bawdy attire, slow colloquial speech, and winsome smile mask an acute perception. She’s about twenty-nine.

Phillip Smith: Phillip is a rookie attorney dressed appropriately in a suit and tie. He considers Madison a bawdy con-artist and treats her accordingly. Madison is brighter than he is, something he’s vaguely aware of, but unwilling to acknowledge — this makes him prone to outbursts, which he attempts to control for George’s benefit.

George Davies: George is also an attorney, albeit an older, wiser attorney. Somewhat stocky, and very calm, he takes the ensuing conversation in stride — investigations are a matter of form for him. Unlike Phillip, George is careful.

The Set : The players sit at a wooden conference table. They may have cups of coffee or tea. A tape recorder sits on the table, recording the conversation for the attorneys’ benefit.

part iv : dogs fly first class

Phillip: Are your dogs licensed, Miss Cartwright?

Madison: Well, I used to be kind of lax about that. But when all this hoopla started, I took them right down and got them registered.

Phillip: And when was that?

Madison: Right about the time you folks started nosing around. [Staring hard at Phillip.] They’ve got all their shots too.

George: Miss Cartwright, how many of these “social visits” would you say you’ve performed?

Madison: I’m not exactly sure.

George: An estimate?

Madison: Oh, about fifty. Maybe a few more.

Phillip: Would you be surprised, Miss Cartwright, if I told you you and your dogs have performed eighty-three “social visits”?

Madison: No. That sounds a little high, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

Phillip: That doesn’t seem like an unusually high number? What with word just leaking out?

Madison: I never rightly kept track.

Phillip: Miss Cartwright, do you pay taxes?

Madison: Of course I pay taxes.

Phillip: Do you pay taxes on these so-called “social visits”?

Madison: Anything about taxes, you’ll have to speak to my accountant about. I don’t have much of a head for numbers.

Phillip: That’s apparent.

George: I think that’s enough, Phillip. Miss Cartwright, how do you suppose all these people got your phone number?

Madison: Well, I don’t rightly know. We did get a lot of calls, though. We even got a call from England. But that’s an awful long plane ride. Planes don’t really have facilities for dogs, you know?

Phillip: That’s right. Your dogs fly first class, don’t they?

Madison: That’s right.

Phillip: That’s a little unusual, isn’t it?

Madison: I’m not putting my dogs in some cargo hold.

Phillip: And the airlines don’t object?

Madison: Not if I buy a first class ticket for each dog, no.

Phillip: But you don’t buy a first class ticket for each dog, do you? The people you’re working for buy the tickets.

Madison: The people I visit.

Phillip: The people you “visit” pay first class air fare for two dogs and yourself.

Madison: Yes.

Phillip: [incredulous] You don’t think you’re taking advantage of these people?

Madison: Well, I don’t call them. They call me. Sometimes I say no, but they just keep calling till I give up and go on out.

George: [A good deal calmer than Phillip] These are some very sick people, Miss Cartwright. You don’t think you’re inspiring false hope?

Madison: I do not take advantage of people. I mean, you wouldn’t believe what these people offer me. It’s like they’re desperate or something. And I just say, “No sir. I don’t want your money. I just want someone to pay my hotel bill, and something to make up for the time I miss from work.” I’m not out to take advantage of anybody. I just take my dog over there, and he barks a little, and we leave. It’s that simple, and if it makes these people a little happier, well then it does. I don’t advertise, and I don’t say my dog is anything more than a dog.

Phillip: You’re forgetting the air fare.

Madison: If I have to fly somewhere, they pay the air fare. Personally, I’m not crazy about flying.

Phillip: [Incredulous] Are you suggesting that travel expenses, as well as two hundred dollars a day, is an inconvenience?

Madison: Wouldn’t you consider it an inconvenience? The phone ringing off the hook all the time. People I don’t even know wanting me to pack up and come on out — forget my schedule. And bathing Fred. Let me tell you, giving a seventy pound dog a bath is no picnic, and it’s practically every day now. Those people will spit out anything. There was one lady who spit out a Thanksgiving turkey. Gravy matted all over his fur, and stuffing! There must have been two pounds of stuffing stuck all over my dog. Now that was an inconvenience!

The lights fade, leaving George S. Davies in a soft spotlight. Madison Cartwright and Phillip Smith are dark silhouettes of shadow, motionless behind him.

Davies frowns in thought, and lifting the recorder and a sheaf of transcripts [which he occasionally studies], rises to pace as he dictates the closing of his letter into the recorder.

George: As you can see, Miss Cartwright is quite animated on the subject of her dogs. She herself does not claim to perform exorcisms, and we have not been able to trace any form of advertisement to that effect. The rest of the transcript is enclosed for your review.

[He glances at documents] You will note I have conversed with several physicians regarding the seemingly miraculous recoveries of their patients soon after encounters with Miss Cartwright’s dog. I’ve included transcripts of these discussions in my report, and the observations of one Dr. David Mason are particularly worthy of your review. In summary, Dr. Mason suggests his patient’s apparent transformation is the result of the patient’s belief the dog could perform an exorcism. As it were, the patient’s belief he was possessed left the patient open to suggestion, resulting in an apparent cure. I would suggest we forward copies of Dr. Mason’s observations to the Arch Diocese.

Attempts to point out the obvious danger of people substituting her dog’s services for much needed medical attention have not impressed Miss Cartwright. Apparently, all of Miss Cartwright’s “social visits” have been paid to people already labeled “lost causes” by the medical profession, [refer to page 84, Cartwright transcript]. It is a suspicion of mine, although this is merely speculation, that certain members of the medical profession may actually have suggested Miss Cartwright’s dog to certain families associated with the Cartwright file.

I have taken the liberty of speaking with several veterinarians on the subject of Miss Cartwright’s dog. To all appearances, the dog is a perfectly healthy two year old Golden Retriever. The dog Booker is a three year old male Norwegian Elkhound. Both dogs appear normal, although Fred is prone to ear infections. Our observations show that the dogs spend a great deal of time playing in Miss Cartwright’s back yard. Their diet consists of dry dog food mixed with table scraps: Booker appears to be somewhat overweight.

On a final note, Miss Cartwright surprised members of my staff when she produced a tape recorder during our session. We could not deny Miss Cartwright the right to tape the session, as we were taping it ourselves. Offers to provide Miss Cartwright with copies of our transcripts were refused. This leads me to suspect Miss Cartwright has taped phone conversations as well. Please convey my opinion to the Arch Diocese that, if something were to happen to one of Miss Cartwright’s dogs, I do not believe the results would be pleasant, and once again, I urge caution in this matter.

Davies becomes less thoughtful and more businesslike.

George: Type in the standard close, Gladys.

He turns the recorder off with a snap.

FADE LIGHTS.

exorcising the dog : part i
exorcising the dog : part ii
exorcising the dog : part iii
exorcising the dog : part iv

*originally published on seemaxrun and celluloid blonde, winner utah shorts theater competition, originally performed by theatre works west at babcock theater & salt lake city’s festival of the arts

 The mischief stirred in his bed of leaves. He stretched slowly, and then wiggled around until his head poked out of the leaves. He sniffed the air, and then stuck his head a little farther up and sniffed again. Then he wiggled with delight. Then air was filled with the scent of Halloween, and so it was time for him to come out of hibernation.

He saw that there was still light coming through the hole in the tree trunk where he had his bed, so he settled down to wait impatiently. He never appeared before it was dark. Darkness was the mischief’s time.

Slowly, the light dimmed and then became tinted with pink. The already cool air chilled still more, and a small breeze sprang up, rattling the fallen leaves down the sidewalks. The mischief waited as the pink light faded. When he finally stuck his head out of his hole, the first stars were prickling the night sky and clouds were scudding over the moon. The mischief called to his friend the chilly little breeze to come and play. It was the perfect time, the perfect weather for a mischief to do his work.

A group of children came by underneath the mischief’s tree, dressed in bright costumes and swinging bagfuls of candy. The mischief fell in behind them, pretending to be a small ghost swinging a plastic pumpkin. He followed them up to the door to a house where they chorused “Trick or treat!” but he didn’t stand in line to get any candy in his pumpkin. He planned a trick instead. As the children ran off, laughing, to the next house, the mischief lingered behind, once again unseen. He eased the ties open on the big plastic bags of leaves that were colored and printed to look like jack o’lanterns and then he tipped them upside down. The leaves scattered in the busy little wind which was happy to help, and the mischief put on his ghost guise again and ran after the children.

A block later, he and the wind sent a gust of leaves into the faces of the children and when they put up their hands to protect their faces, he tipped several of the candy sacks over.  He chuckled silently as he ran off, leaving the children poking through the leaves to rescue their treats.

A garden hose left out on a lawn was knotted in many places, another bag of leaves was opened, and a piece of chalk was used to draw skeletons on a sidewalk. Next the mischief was delighted to find a small piece of soap left by an outdoor faucet - he used it to smear the next few windows he saw.

He grabbed his friend the breeze again and they snuffed out the candles in all the jack o’lanterns they found and then tangled the clothes that someone had left on a clothesline.

The mischief followed several groups of children and tangled their shoe laces and put knots in their hair with the breeze, and then sent the breeze to hover around the adults with the children to make them shiver with cold.

The naughty pair whipped through a few gardens, making a mess of the remaining flowers and then sat in a tree that still had a few leaves to shake them down on the heads of passerby.

They rang a few doorbells and then ran away, and teased dogs which had been left out in yards until they were barking frantically. A black cat, sitting on a fence in the moonlight, had its tail pulled, and sleeping birds were scared from their perches. Trash cans were turned over with a great and terrible clatter.

The moon rose higher in the sky and the groups of children tapered off. The mischief knew that his time was almost over, and he said good-bye to his friend the chilly little breeze. Climbing the tree to his hole, he reflected with satisfaction that this had been a lovely Halloween, one of the best. Then he curled up in a ball in his bed of leaves and went to sleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of what he would do next Halloween.

-She Wolf (c)2007

Once I went into an abandoned house just to take a look around.

It was  nice in there- there was a beautiful oak staircase and beautiful oriental rugs on the floors and lace curtains in all of the windows.

There were no beer cans on the floor or rock band names spray painted on the walls. There were no dead animals in the walls and the air smelled musty but not bad.

The house had been empty for over 5 years.

I went  from room to room and I opened closet doors and went through the linen cupboards.

Then I went into the bathroom and was surprised that it was so modern looking ( the house had been built in the 1920’s).

Inside the bathroom there was a white enamel bathtub and a matching sink and one of those free standing medicine cabinets that made this clicking noise whenever you opened or closed the door.

I had trouble opening the mirrored door and after I did I wasn’t sorry because unlike the other closets and cupboards I’d looked through the medicine cabinet had something inside of it.

I found some old brown bottles ( with handwritten labels ) and next to the bottles I found an old hat pin with a little red bead on the top.

I remember I touched the bottles and I touched the hat pin and I thought, ” wow, you could take an eye out with that thing. “

And then I thought, ” you could lose and eye right here Anita, and who’d know where you are? “

It was just a jumbled thought- but all of the sudden that sense of adventure was gone and I really could see myself stumbling around in this abandoned house that no one ever went into with a hat pin in my eye.

I put my hand to my face and ran my finger along my eyelid and when I had convinced myself everything was okay I closed the medicine cabinet door.

I actually opened it again, just to make sure that hat pin was still there.  I backed away from the sink into the hall ( no way was I going to turn my back on that room )and shut the door.

 I stood there holding it shut and I remember thinking , ” if that knob turns in my hand I WILL lose my mind.”

 I had to take my left hand and pry my right hand off of the glass door knob and I remember holding my hand to my chest and all I could think of was that hat pin and how I should check on it again.

Or maybe I told myself I should forget the pin and just get out now… 

So I walk slowly down the stairs  and back to the kitchen and just before I get to the door the faucet in the kitchen sinks starts to drip.

I stood there in  by the door which was shut ( did I shut it? did I shut it? It was OPEN Anita!)  and I watched water drip from a faucet that hadn’t had water running through it for years.

And then from right above the kitchen- where the bathroom was I heard a little metal click. 

I opened the kitchen door very slowly and I walked out of that house very slowly because I remember thinking if I don’t run….

it wouldn’t chase me.

I kept checking my eye over and over again- in fact by the end of the day I had rubbed the lid raw.

They tore the house down that Summer.

And I’m willing to bet that somewhere buried under the foundation of one of those new houses they put on the Abandoned House’s Lot…

is a hat pin with a little red bead on the top.