GHOST STORY – I ain’t afraid of no ghost!

Dawn, over at lingeringvisions is looking for a few ghost stories for a campfire jamboree she’s going to be attending.  The stories need to be for youngsters, ages 6 – 10.  Now I’m no big deal writer but I thought I’d take a crack at it. Here’s my contribution to Dawn’s creepy sleep over.  Have fun, Dawn.

The photo is hers.  Not mine.  I haven’t been camping in about 13 years.  So credit where credit is due.

And now, bring on the ghosts!


Jesse lifted himself off the ground and walked away from the campfire and the weird ghost stories that were being told. He didn’t believe in ghosts and he certainly wasn’t being frightened. He walked to where the woods met the campground and let his eyes follow the trunk of the tallest tree to where millions of stars dotted the night sky.
As he dropped his gaze and tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness in front of him, Jesse spotted what he thought was a dim light. He squinted and blinked, trying to focus as the object moved toward him. Thinking the darkness was playing tricks on him, he scrunched his eyes tightly. A slight gasp slipped from his lips when he reopen them and saw the young girl standing before him. He thought he could almost see the woods behind her through her pale ghostly shape.
“How creepy,” he thought. Then whispered, “Are you a (gulp) ghost? There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
The little girl held her hand out to Jesse beckoning him to follow. She didn’t smile or blink or speak. She just waited patiently for Jesse to make his move.
Not wanting to appear scared, but hoping that someone had followed him to the tree line, Jesse turned toward the campsite but he had wandered too far.
When he turned back, Jesse could see the girl walking, no almost floating, deeper into the woods.
“Hey!” he called taking one step further into the darkness. “Hey. Wait up.”
The figure continued, getting further and further away. Suddenly, she stopped and Jesse could swear she disappeared. He took two more steps into the woods when, out of nowhere, a very bright light glowed where the girl had been standing.
A voice rang softly in the distance.
“Help me.” The voice called. “Please help…”
The sound faded and the light went out.
Without thinking about his own safety, Jesse ran deep into the woods. When he reached the spot where he thought the light had been, Jesse came to a stop. He paused to listen but there was only an eerie silence. No girl. No cries for help. Deciding he had imagined it all, Jesse turned to head back to camp. Just then he heard a blood curdling scream and he knew he hadn’t imagined it at all. The sound was coming from him! Jesse knew that what he saw would make him a believer.
The next night, sitting around the campfire, Jesse told his story. Even though he knew no one would believe him.

I hope I didn’t scare you too much.  Click on the campfire and you can get to Dawn’s blog.  She’s got an awful lot of great photos to share.

And if you have a creepy story that would go good with a campfire, I’m sure she’d appreciate the contribution.



No.  Not “my” Jeff.  This is fictional Jeff.  He was created by a very talented blogger by the name of Allan.  Allan wrote a response to a story prompt that you’ll find here   and I would advise you to read it before you continue.  I’ll wait…


OK.  So after reading the story, I thought I would respond to Allan’s tale with my own version of “the other side of the story”.   He very graciously told me to have at it.

Now if you’ve read the story (I told you it would be a good idea to do that first), there is Jeff (the husband) and – the way I read it – Julie, the girlfriend, and Monica, the scorned wife.  I asked “my Jeff” to read Allan’s story and he agreed that the women’s roles could be switched.  But I’m going with Monica as the wife.  I should have asked Allan (the author).

Too many names? Are you dizzy yet?  OK well, chill.  Here’s Monica’s 100 word side of the story.  P.S.  Writing a hundred word story ain’t easy.

Trying to blend in with its rough, cold exterior, Monica pressed her back against the wall behind her. She stood watching from across the street. The wind whipped around the corner where she huddled to keep warm, but she knew it wasn’t the wretched wind that was causing the chill creeping up her spine. Earlier, she watched as Jeff made his way to the rear of the hideous building. Now, as she watched him cross the parking lot to his truck, she knew she should never have come.
Monica waited until her husband pulled away, pocketed the pistol, and headed for home.

Well?  What do you think?  Should I stick to doodling?  OK maybe so, but it was fun.  Sometimes something gets in your head and under your skin and you just have to get it off your chest.  (lot of body parts here, but you get my drift.)

March 2015 218

Thanks for coming this far.  Have a good week everyone.






Cee and Chris collaborated to come up with this week’s questions. So here it goes…

1. What is your most favorite smell?

Well, pretty much outdoors – and roses. (That narrows it down, huh?)


2. How do you write: computer, longhand, other?

A lot of computer and handwriting for journaling.

3. Your favorite blog post that you have written?

I really like them all (she said, modestly) but this is one of my favorites:

4. What’s your favorites book from childhood?

My parents didn’t speak English when they came to America, so they didn’t read to me. The only reading material I remember being in our house was Il Progresso, the Italian newspaper they were able to procure in our Italian neighborhood. So, for this, I have no answer.

And for the bonus question…

What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to this week coming up?

Actually, I’m very grateful that I’ve been able to make some time for myself so that I could get back into posting on my blog. I missed it. And this week I’m looking forward to getting our taxes DONE AND OVER WITH!!!

And speaking of over, get on over to Cee’s  and share your world. While you’re at it, stop by and see Chris!


“I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.” ~ Edgar Allen Poe

Phoenix sculking 1

Phoenix sculking 2

With stealth and indifference, she creeps, ever so quietly, ever so mysteriously into the – ah – curtains?

Click here to see more on Mysterious at Ese’s Weekly Shoot and Quote.   Thanks for stopping by and noticing.  😉


This is in response to Michelle Weber’s WordPress Weekly Writing Challenge.  And no, I haven’t done this before, but I’ve always wanted to finish something I’ve started when it came to writing.  Well here it is.  Done.  You look at the photo prompt, write, link to WordPress, and voila!  Now THIS was a challenge!  I hope you enjoy reading as much I enjoyed writing (completing) it.




Maria sat listlessly scrunched between the turtle that had lost his shell and the horse she had secretly named Snow White.  Every day of the entire sweltering summer, she waited for Bobby to show up for work at her dad’s modest bodega. He would help unload the heavy boxes and stock the grocery shelves.  Maria’s dad could no longer lift and pull and stack and load after he had been injured in a fall last year.  He was big and strong then, but he looked different now.

Back then he would grab hold of the giraffe’s neck out in front of the store and run in circles as she sat on Snow White’s brilliant yellow saddle.  The ride would whirl with such great speed, causing Maria to hold tight with both hands and squeeze her knees against the horse’s barrel.  She would throw back her head and laugh until tears streamed across her cheeks.  That’s how fast Poppy would push.  So fast she could hardly catch her breath.

This was the summer that Maria fell in love with Bobby.   It was a pure and innocent love.  Bobby was like the brother she had worshipped before he went away to fight in a war she knew nothing about.  Nothing except that it took her brother, Marc forever away from her.

In the days before the war, Marc would help at the bodega every chance he had and he would twirl Maria around on the brightly colored carousel as much as time would allow.  But then he left. Momma tried to keep things going.  She tried to help Poppy the best way she knew how, but when Marc didn’t come back, momma got sick and had to stay in bed.  She was sad all the time and Poppy worked harder and harder each day. Still, he couldn’t keep up. And the carousel sat motionless as the days passed.

Fall turned into winter, then spring and except for the occasional spin it would get when someone walked by grabbing hold of the giraffe’s neck, the ride rarely whirled at all.

After Poppy’s accident, and with momma staying in bed most of the day, Maria would scrunch herself between the turtle and the pretty white horse a lot.  Things were so different, until Bobby came along.

From the first day at the bodega, Bobby grabbed hold of the ride and ran Maria in circles every chance he could.  She would hold tight and laugh and cry those same joyous tears.  Bobby would laugh, too. But then he’d need to get back to stocking shelves, or helping customers, and Maria would sit on the edge of the carousel, waiting for the next ride to begin.  She could hear Bobby whistling as he rolled the cart, burdened with boxes of colorful, fresh fruit.  It always seemed like he was happy, and that made Maria happy, too.

He made her almost forget how heartbroken she was. Almost.

Now the summer was a thing of the past.  School had begun and Bobby needed to be there instead of at Poppy’s bodega.  On his last day of work, he had promised her he’d be back to see her, but school had started a month ago and Bobby hadn’t returned.

Poppy was struggling to keep things together.  Boxes sat unopened.  Some of the shelves were bare.  He said he was trying to get some help, but he always had an excuse as to why he wouldn’t hire the boys that came looking for work.  Maria thought it was because he loved Bobby too, but she never said this to him.  If that was the reason, she understood.

Next year it would be Maria’s turn to go to school and then who would scrunch between the turtle and the horse? Since Bobby left, Maria had begun telling the animals on the carousel stories about Marc.  She told of the time the ride had been delivered to the store and asked if any of them remembered that day.  She reminded the tiger how he was Marc’s favorite and, how her brother had looked so silly sitting on the bright orange cat, his long legs dangling off the side of the carousel.  She asked the giraffe if he missed Poppy playing with them, and apologized for his absence.  She explained that he was busy, what with Marc and Bobby both gone.  She said she would spend as much time as she could with them because once she went to school, she didn’t know how often she would get to play.  She said she was sorry that Bobby wasn’t around to push them anymore, and then she cried.

Late in the fall and too tired to run the bodega alone, Poppy hired a boy to help. But Maria didn’t like him.  He never smiled and complained that the work was too hard.  He would wander out back more often than he should, and light up a cigarette while Poppy unloaded groceries and struggled to stock shelves.  Maria thought Poppy should fire the boy, but, then who would lift the heavy boxes and climb the ladder to stock things up high.  “Even bad help was better than no help at all,” she would hear Poppy telling customers who complained about the boy’s lazy ways.

Things were just so different.

Then, one day, while sitting on the edge of the carousel, scrunched between the turtle and the horse, Maria heard a familiar whistle.  She was sure it was her imagination.  In her child’s world, too much time had gone by and she had told herself he’d broken his promise.  Maria wouldn’t allow herself to think that the sound was real and that it could be.  But the whistle got closer and then there, rounding the corner she could see Bobby.  He smiled at Maria and gestured for her to hop up on Snow White.  Without hesitation and like no time had passed, she grabbed hold of the horse’s reigns and braced herself for a whirl on the bright carousel.

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