Let’s start with some extras.
EXTRA EXTRA-FREE BONUS FRIGHTS
Legion [ from my upcoming novel, Cross Eyed] – Once called the Son of Lucifer, he tried to make a deal, and outsmart the Son of God, but it went badly, causing endless embarrassment, and only served to make him the laughingstock of Hell, and to so dissect his demonic self-confidence, as to render him completely inept. If you ever hear strange noises and bumps in the night, it’s just Legion trying to come in for a graceful landing, something he hasn’t been able to do for two thousand years.
Half – I told my builder exactly how much money I had to spend on my new home, all of which he spent building half a house, before he died falling down half-finished stairs. I struggled to finish and move in, but now, on each anniversary night of his death, a wisp of smoky air resembling half his shape falls down the stairs and vanishes.
The Happy Ghost – If she could send a post card it would say, “Having the time of my life,” which is quite a contrast to where she is. Because, scaring the sanity out of those who tormented her is, quite frankly, the most fun she’s ever had, especially since she died.
Are You? – You think, while you sit there in a comfortable chair in a cozy spot in a favorite place, that you’re all alone; but are you…really? Maybe, just to be sure, it would be a good idea to look over your shoulder.
EVEN MORE SUPER-FREE, EXTRA-TERRIFYING, EVEN MORE BONUSY BONUS FRIGHT
Mixed Emotions – After weeks of non-stop nagging from my wife of many years, and my live-in mother-in-law of way too many years, nagging which I usually referred to as ‘haunting’, I finally conceded to allow the in-law-terrible’ to take my brand new, wonderful, very fast and very powerful sports car for a short drive; which she, after taking the car key from its custom made, wall-mounted holder, which matches – matched, past tense – the shape and style of the car, and after taking her coordinated fur-trimmed gloves, hat, and coat from the hall tree in the foyer, and donning the same, within ten minutes had involved herself in a fatal accident, as she attempted to make a too sharp turn onto a too narrow bridge at the bottom of a rain-slick, too steep hill, being, just as I had warned too many times because it wasn’t just raining but pouring, unable to control the speed and direction of the vehicle, and had somehow navigated around and over a safety embankment meant to prevent just such a thing, and flown half a football field’s length straight out in the air, then plummeted six hundred feet to the canyon floor, there to burst into flames which consumed the car, and converted her to a woman-shaped pillar of ashes, dressed in the ashy version of coordinated fur-trimmed gloves, hat, and coat, and still gripping the steering wheel, and had a discernible, wild eyed expression that said, as usual, this is all your fault, you-idiot-my-daughter-married; and though I believe for a certainty, that that was her last thought, and I believe I should feel at least a tinge of remorse, but I don’t, because I can’t help but juggle the mixed emotions caused by the fact that my brand new sports car just drove my mother-in-law off a cliff, tee-hee. However, after returning from the morgue, where my wife and I had to identify her charred remains, still exhibiting the you-idiot-my-daughter-married expression, upon approaching and entering the back door, we discovered muddy footprints, like wet ashes, leading into the kitchen, where we were shocked, amazed, really disappointed to discover that very same, just identified, totally deceased mother-in-law, standing as tall as a pillar of ashes dressed in burned-ash-coordinated fur-trimmed gloves, hat, and coat, could stand, and repeating over and over, “You think I was haunting,….. before?”
The Main Feature : THIRTEEN TWO SENTENCE GHOST STORIES
1 – Powder – Before I went to bed around midnight I spilled a lot of baby powder on the floor, but decided to wait until morning to clean it up. Getting up at 3am to ‘go’ I just noticed tiny claw-prints in the powder leading a trail across my bedroom floor to the closed closet door, where something inside just bumped.
2 – Mint-Green Tassels – Little mint-green threads – fallen tassels from a too-worn shawl, for decades shoulder-donned on winter nights by my mother – form a trail in the hall from bedroom to bedroom, her routine path, taken to check the wellbeing of her young children. Why are there trails of mint-green tassels, now, if we buried her in that shawl, twenty years ago?
3 – Winter Mimosa – For over two hundred years my family has been haunted by a specter, accompanied by death, announcing its first arrival with the scent of Mimosa; and the stronger the aroma, the more grisly the soon-to-be death. A raging thunderstorm, and its accomplice, a power failure, has left me standing alone, the pitch black air saturated with Mimosa, permeating whispering shadows, and I’m thinking, “This is going to be bad.”
4 – The Dark Hall – At the far end of my dark hall there is no light, except for two small, red-glowing orbs, like coals of a dying fire, which seem to be floating free, yet part of something else unseen in the black night. I’m thinking about going to that other end, where the light switch is, but the two little orbs just blinked.
5 – Nightsounds – Familiar sounds, borne on the air of the country night, comfort me, like the whirring fly-by of an insect, the throaty hoots and warbles of night-birds, and the ratchetty flutter of frogs by the pond. This night, however, bears no comfort, for beyond the break-line of the forest drifts a wailing cry, rising and falling like whispering wind, drawing close, and calling my name.
6 – Dru – For decades my best friend, Dru, and I played ‘ghost’ pranks on each other, like, as children, jumping out of dark corners shouting “Boo!,” or as teenagers, rigging sheets on clothes lines, or as adults, projecting ethereal images into fog. That’s why I’m really freaked out, right now, because, as the winter wind howls on this dark-shrouded day, I’m standing in my home facing a wispy floating form, pointing a skeletal finger in my direction, and whispering, “I’ve come for you;” and I’m thinking, because Dru’s been dead for a year, either he has come back, or something else stands before me; but either way, I’m screwed.
7 – Sit – I’ve spent years training my ‘pit’ to sit, roll over, play dead, fetch; and as I point to a target and give the command ‘prepare,’ he will crouch, coiling power into his legs to spring, snarl viciously, raise his hackles, anxiously wait for the word ‘kill,’ then do it. Standing in my backyard, under a full midnight moon, I’m a little mystified, right now, because his attention is not focused on me, but on a point in mid air, about five feet up, where there’s nothing visible; and he has rolled over, sat up, offered a paw to empty space for shaking, a trick I never taught him; but worst of all, right this second, he is low-crouched, spring-coiled, snarl-toothed, hackle-raised, entirely focused on me, and apparently waiting for something.
8 – Sitter – Mom and Dad are going out tonight for a Halloween party, which means the Sitter is coming, which means, as my brother and I already know, she’ll have another one of those things with her, a dark form that floats about and searches the whole house, until it finds a place to stay and wait, along with the others, which our parents punish us for mentioning, claiming we’ve made them up to cause trouble. But we fear, that soon enough, our parents will see the trouble for themselves, because, tonight, the form the Sitter brings is number thirteen.
9 – Sitting – I arrived at noon on a bright, sunny day, but as I stepped inside the house, a pall of darkness instantly fell, making it difficult to see why there are more shadows than children, to identify invisible forms that press against me, and to find the source of the icy wind blowing hard in every room, though, outside, seen through the windows, not a leaf of a tree or shrub is disturbed. In addition, the children, sitting cross-legged, are staring at me with black, fixed, unblinking eyes, which I could tolerate if they weren’t floating in the air.
10 – Every Night ‘til Now – Night after night the dream has progressed from fighting a few to fighting legions, until last night, when cornered with no choice but to push back, I fought onward, forward through endless caverns, thrashing faces, slashing arms and torsos, bashing heads, crushing chests, forcing every dark prince back into the fiery pit of Hell, finally to prevail and fall, spent, into my bed. I awoke, arms still limp from wielding weapons in a night long dream of war, only, now fully awake, I can see that every room in my house is splattered with blood, and I can’t find my family.
11 – My Name – When Jesus asked my name, I answered, “Legion for we are many,” because Hell is a populous place, filled with entities named Hate, Rage, Anger, Violence, Torment, and worst of all, the duo, Alone and Helpless. So, now that I have your attention, and promise never to leave you, go ahead and ask me my name.
12 – Snowstone – I buried my wife yesterday, then came home and fell asleep across my desk, exhausted from the frenzy of mid-winter funeral planning, and receiving guests and their placations to ward off grief with phrases like, “God needed another angel,” and, “Nothing happens that is not planned,” which I absolutely agree with because it was a carefully laid plan that I used to kill her, being only too happy to send God another angel, even as she swore by God with her dying gasps that final revenge would be hers. This morning I raised my head from the desktop to see new fallen snow, unblemished except for a single trail of depressions, footprints outside my Study window, seeming to lead into the nearby forest, which I entered to follow the trail, meandering over streams and under bridges, across meadows and highways; traveling for miles to find the point of origin, the headstone of her grave, upon which discovery I realized the footprints only lead one way, beginning at her grave, and ending at our house, where, I now know, she’s waiting for me.
13 – You Are Next- Death dropped by a while ago, not for me, but to say that you are next, and though his act is final, Death prefers to be merciful and quick, by giving no hint of imminent attention. So, no matter what rustling noise you might hear, no matter what moving shadow you think you see in the corner of your eye, no matter what icy fingers you feel creeping over your shoulders, for your own sake, don’t turn around!
This Could Be Your End……….Scared?
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