Saturday, September 29, 2012

About the Ghosties

Remember, I said last post I am starting a new hobby called ghost hunting. No, I don't plan on getting equipment (even though if you browse enough on haunted house websites you can buy your stuff to find the ghosts) I just want to see something or maybe feel something.

I do believe in ghosts and I would really like to see some proof. Though I had what some would call a paranormal experience. I just call it weird experience and I am the one with the over active imagination  and I am the one who also really believes that there is something else surrounding us.

The science brain that I have knows that we have energy inside of us. And energy can not be created or destroyed just changed. So maybe ghosts are residual energy from someone else. Who knows? Let me tell you about my experience, actually I have two.

When I was about 13 or so I lived in a ranch house in Delaware. It was not a antique house it seemed relatively new. I had the room in the basement.  I used to have the feeling I was being  watched it used to creep me out so much I would hide under the covers. So I got black curtains and I always kept them closed but I still had the feeling of being watched.  Of course, I was in the basement and maybe there was a real person outside looking in, there are a lot of perverts out in the world. One night, I had the window open and I went to bed the next morning I woke up and my window was closed. It was one of those small basement windows that open inward. My parents didn't close the window. Okay maybe there was a gust large enough to close the window. I doubt it though.

The other story,  I lived in a 100 year old plus house in Bellefonte. And my experience there was just odd glints of orange light from the corner of my eye, mostly in the middle of the night. So it could have been tiredness or outside traffic. Sometimes, I would hear someone coming up the steps when everyone was accounted for including my cat. It sounded like a person coming up the stairs. Yeah, I know it was an old house and it could have been settling but it seemed more like footsteps.

Lets bring this around full circle, I was researching last night on the internet of supposed haunted things in my area that I would like to see. I was researching Egg Hill and soon I found myself on You Tube because someone made a documentary on the place. And you know when you are You Tube they have a suggestion sidebar. Well I started clicking on some other ghostie videos. One was hard to see but most seemed really fake. Maybe it is because I am not experiencing it first hand and there are so many explanations for the phenomena going on. Some of the videos are plain fake and that's an obvious fact for a blind person.

So soon, I will be going out to these places and maybe I will see or hear something or maybe I won't. At least it will be adventure nonetheless.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Defying Gravity Plus Other Going Ons

It's been a few days and I really wanted to write last Sunday  but I have no idea what I did on Sunday. Anyway, so I decided on a new hobby. Ghost hunting and visting interesting places that require some adventure spirit and gas money.

I got a book from the library called Weird Pennsylvania and it is chock full of supposedly haunted things and other interesting places that aren't found browsing at the local tourism center. There is a bunch of things to do in Bucks County (just north of Philly) but that will require a lot of planning and researching especially in the map department.  So I came up with a little road trip to visit some interesting things in western Pennsylvania especially Bedford.

First stop, Gravity Hill a little bit northwest of Bedford in the town of New Paris. I got the directions from the book but you can get them from the Teapot visitors center in Bedford. If you ever heard of Gravity Hill it is a place where it looks like things will move uphill. I heard about these places years ago. There is one in Bucks County and I tried to find it when I lived there but I spent hours driving around and never did find it. The one in Bedford is all advertised either there are little markings on the stop sign right before the hill.

The drive was excellent as we wound through rolling farmlands with an ominous black clouds in the horizon. We found Gravity Hill and it was not all that I expected but it was still cool. There are two parts of Gravity Hill , the first part doesn't do much but the second part well that was much better. We put the car in neutral and the car did seem to move uphill. It is supposed to be an optical illusion and maybe it is. I still thought it was cool anyway.

So after that we went to Schellsburg because I wanted to see these sculptures in the woods. We find the place but the sculptures are marked off with no tresspassing signs and I just didn't have the balls to go into the gift shop and ask if I could see them. So we continued on the Lincoln Highway (Route 30 W). We stopped at a scenic overlook in the Alleghany Mountains and soon we found ourselves at the Flight 93 Memorial.

If you ever do find yourself in Shanksville, PA on Route 30, then do make it a point to stop here. It is couple mile drive from the entrance off the road to the actual memorial. It is a large open field with just the road. When you park in the parking lot, this is your last chance to finish smoking or whatever. When you enter the plaza the debirs field is on your left. Walk a little while and there is impact sight and way out in the field there is the original memorial that reserved for only family of the ones who died in the plane crash. The wall of names is at the back. And each peice of marble has one name of the deceased on it. It is somber and sad but for some reason there is great peace and serenity there.

After the memorial, it was time to eat and then we found our way back home. I have a bunch of pictures but I have to take them from the camera yet so look for them in the near futre.

Until the next adventure comes...

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Hear My Plea, Bring Back The Secret Circle

I love the paranormal. I love paranormal shows like Vampire Diaries, Supernatural and of course  The Secret Circle. I used to watch Charmed and Roswell.   I don't have cable and I don't get much through the air other than PBS so I watch all my shows through Netflix. And there is nothing more I hate when I am completely hooked on a series on Netflix and then I come to find out the damn show was cancelled. I know some of you know how that is.

With all the new supernatural shows it is a wonder this one was cancelled. Maybe witches aren't as cool as vamps. Of course vamps are hot right now. What is agitating is that the show ended so good, I was really looking forward to more because I felt we were really getting to a juicy story line too.

Okay, so the CW doesn't want to carry it, there has got to be another network willing to take the plunge, what about FOX or maybe even TBS or TNT and why not Nickledeon ( the show is rated TV 14 and that is a stretch for this network but they can make it work and maybe even gain a more diverse audience. Although I love Nickledeon and I would watch Spongebob Squarepants any day)

I heard rumors that Netflix, wanted to have its own original content hey this is perfect. I read somewhere that solo magic is more expensive than circle magic. Who would have thought magic comes with a varying price tag.

There seems to be a lot of people who love this show and are trying to bring it back. I am just another gal with the same home. So maybe in the near future I can watch more episodes of this show because witches and magic are just as cool as vamps.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Retrospective Retribution

At exactly 6:42 a.m. the alarm shattered the blackness. She rose from her bed and turned on her bedside light. The faint light cut through the darkness. Cammy Ann went to the bathroom and showered for exactly 5 minutes then with her hair bundled on top of her head she went to the closet and selected a lovely lavender lace dress that she finished only yesterday. Dressing deliberately, she fixed her hair grabbed a cup of coffee with exactly one eighth of a cup of 2 percent milk. By 7:02 a.m. she put the car into drive and drove to the In it a Minit store. There was one other car in the parking lot, a beat up green Chevy Malibu. She took enough notice just to notice it but she had a schedule to keep. Inside she poured a cup of coffee and took her measuring cup and measured her precise amount of milk and bought one pack of 120's and two newspapers.

Cammy Ann opened the pack slowly in her car and took out one cigarette and lit it. She let the smoke enter every part of her body. She closed her eyes as she always does and exhaled it all. Without knowing someone else was in there, someone or something cracked on the back of the head. The world as she knew it vanished.

Cammy Ann woke to blackness,. The space felt small and the air felt stale. She reached her hands in front of her and felt metal. She slammed her bound hands against it and screamed. She stopped, her head throbbed. No one answered her. Kicking her legs, grappling in the dark she found nothing that could free her from this prison. She wasn’t sure how someone would know but she knew she was in the trunk of a car.

Minutes went on and no one came to her rescue. Eventually, the trunk opened and a man stood above her. She recognized him instantly.

"Mitch, what’s going on? What am I doing here?"

His small lips frowned and he pulled her out the car. Cammy Ann struggled against him but he held her close to his body. His arms tightened around her ribs. They were in a dark place with one overhead light. She couldn’t see much other cold and gray cement bricks on the wall. He carried her to the one corner. Raising her frail body he hooked her to a chain that hung from the ceiling. He feet dragged on the floor and she looked at him sadly.

"Crazy fucking Cammy Ann. Little miss predictable." He slapped her across the face. "You ruined me, you bitch. Oh everyone said how brilliant you are and how great of a teacher you are and that is why I went to Ryder State."

"Mitch, why are you doing this to me? I have class, they will be lost without me. You know that. What about my students? Mitch. Mitch. Answer me," she pleaded with him.

He punched her in the nose. The bones cracked and blood oozed onto her lips.

"Could you shut up? This is retribution."

"Please give me cigarette. I need one."

He smiled and took the pack out of his pocket, "well yes it is about that time. What is 8:42 and time for your smoke. You are weird." He took a cigarette out and broke it. Then he broke another and another until they all laid on the floor. "I know all about you Camilla Ann but you go by Cammy Ann because that is what your grandma called you the very same woman who encouraged your art and said you were talented and great. Really the same stuff I always heard growing up. I was told I was great until you came into my life..."

She cut him off, "really you came into my life. I didn’t choose you or seek you out. You chose me."

"I want to show you something. I want to show you how great I’ve become. What is it you always told me, to let my emotions speak and not the message. I’m going to give a retrospective of my work in the last year. You will regret everything, bitch."

He walked away from her to the far end of the wall and turned on the light. Huge fluorescent bulbs hummed to life. Huge canvases were hung on the walls; terrible portraits of her. In one her head was on a stick and her body laid on the ground with maggots crawling out of it. Another was him and her and he was on top of her naked body. She was in every painting, many had her disemboweled. One had him eating her insides. Her stomach turned and she threw up. The vomit oozed down her soiled lavender dress and mixed with the blood.

He smiled proudly and crossed his arms across his chest. "Look how I invoked emotion. Look at the realism. Look how I made you so beautiful while I took you apart. Look at the fear in your eyes." Mitch came up to her and lifted her chin to meet his gaze, "I always wanted your approval, I loved you so much. You told me I was a run of the mill artist that I was okay. Maybe I should do graphic design or illustrate kids books or make logos. You said I could never do high art. You said I wasn’t good enough. You said my work missed something. Then you took me home one night, to your bedroom in black and your one light in every room and you let me take you and you told me I was special. Remember that night?"

Her heart fluttered and sweat ran down her face. She felt frenzied. She needed to smoke, it was late too late, "please Mitch one cigarette. I can’t handle this anymore. Please. Please. Please, Mitch."

"No. You will live. Then after that night, when I wanted to see you, you just blew me off. You threw me away."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I want to hear how great I am. I want to hear about how you made a big mistake and how you think about me and wish things were different. You know then maybe I might let you go, be my partner. I know how you like the single life. I am fine with all of that."

She looked into his deep brown almost black eyes. And she really remembered him, the vacant eyes, the art that was souless until now. She had her life and it was just fine why change it now? There was schedules to keep and he didn’t fit but neither did her dying. Her death was even planned for forty years in the future on her birthday, she will take sciaenid and sleep a blissful sleep.

"Mitch, I do remember how I was truthful to you. But see what you did here, I might not think this is lovely but I see the pain, the hurt I gave you because I used you for own pleasure. These works are I am not sure what the words are but they leave me speechless. And maybe I should have given you a chance, I have never been anyone’s muse before and I must say I find it quite exhilarating. In fact, even being here like this chained and at your mercy is even more exhilarating."

He smiled and searched her eyes for truth, "I know you don’t lie, you are truth. You work always showed truth and I should have known about that night but I couldn’t help my heart wanted you. Without you, Cammy Ann I would be just another painter on the boardwalk."

"Kiss me, Mitch. Take me into your arms and just take me."

He came toward her and lifted her body off the chains. She laid into his body and felt his cold warmth. Mitch came in for a kiss and she took and let his tongue enter her mouth. It was now or never, she clamped down his tongue . He screamed and tried to back away but she bit harder. Blood oozed from their mouths. She tasted the dirty blood and wanted to throw up. Her teeth connected together and Mitch fell to the floor, screaming. Blood poured from his mouth. She spat the tongue on the ground.

With her hands stupidly bound in front of her (if she were in charge of this fiasco hands would be bound behind the person) she dashed for his work bench. She grabbed two paint brushes and went over to Mitch. His blood pooled around his head. Cammy Ann drove one paint brush in his eyes, he screamed and choked blood. She the shoved the other paint brush in his other eye. His shriek rattled the building. He curled into a ball and screamed and cried.

She went over to her smashed pack of cigarettes and found one. Slowly, she brought it to her lips and lit it. She drew the smoke into her lungs. After standing bound and smoking for several minutes, she tossed it to the floor.

Cammy Ann went to her car and called 911. She opened the garage door and looked outside. He brought her home or someone else’s home and stumbled out into the sunshine. A woman with a cigar hanging out of her mouth and curlers dangling from her hair rushed from the house into the garage.

Cammy Ann heard her scream, "oh my baby boy. What did that bitch do to you?" With no intention of hurting another person, she ran away down the road looking for the cops.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Abraham Lincoln vs Zombies

Another zombie movie I found on beloved Netflix. I do plan on writing about the things I see on Netflix  but more often then not I will be writing about those independent type of films. Because what is the sense of talking about something that most people may have seen such as Deep Impact or The Last Airbender (not that I have seen this movie but I do know it was in the movie theater).

And about Zombies.... well don't get me wrong I like zombies. Who doesn't like the living dead rising again to munch on the living with the blood and the maiming all around (zombies aside, it seems like one could be zombie with the help of drugs but that is a story for another time)?  I didn't watch zombie movies for a long time for the simple fact that you seen one zombie movie you seen them all. Zombies can't talk and they have a hunger for fresh meat. So why did I watch this movie? Abe Lincoln. I couldn't resist a movie with a profound historical character as Abe battling against the very hungry zombies.

So this is how it is, Abe is notified of a bad disease in a southern town. He and a bunch of government officials make a detour to this town on his way to Gettysburg, PA to deliver his speech. The action develops quickly and he meets his lost love who has a daughter which may or may not be his. Townspeople are looking for food but Abe knows just what to do. A confederate officer even helps Abe rid the town of zombies. Some positives most zombie killing was done  by blade but when they used guns they didn't pump 900 bullet holes into the zombie without reloading. Watch for a character named John, a southern sympathizer, that works with Lincoln and really pay attention to the end, I don't want to say to much here.

I liked this movie. The premise was slightly bizarre but that is what I liked about it.  The gore was pretty decent too (if you're into that kind of stuff) but it is a zombie movie so expect blood. I would say clear a night to watch this. It really isn't cheesy and it is filmed pretty well (no b-movie type of filming).

Grab popcorn and watch the president kick zombie ass.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

A Positive Rejection and Some Other Happenings

Hello all, Oh yeah I know... 8 days with out a single word for me. And no story. The story will come in good time, I am still struggling with the actual writing but you already heard enough of that for one day or two or three depending on how many times you all came here looking for something new to read.

And here is some stuff that's been going on in the last week or so.

Work- until I win the Powerball, I have to do this and sometimes all I want to do is come home and go to bed. I am sure many of you know how this is.

I got a positive rejection email the other day. That in itself is an oxymoron I know. So here is the note: I enjoyed reading your poems, but our next two issues are full. I do recommend perusing our other publication guidelines, and believe you'll find a home in one of them. See what I mean? I sent this to Illumens a speculative poetry (this is the fancy word for lumping together horror, sci-fi and fantasy and all hybrids in between) magazine. This magazine is owned by Sams Dot Publishing and they do have a boat load of magazines in print and online. So yeah, this is an incredibly positive rejection note, don't you think? As far as rejections this is one of the best ones.

The other good one came with a personal note on how to make the piece better. Most of rejections are standard issue thanks but it doesn't meet our needs blah blah.

I overstuffed myself today at the antique show. It's a thing we (the progeny and the significant other and myself) try to go at least every year. It has a flea market, antique tractors and food and more food. I love smoked turkey legs and I got one of those. I also got a yak bone necklace that was hand made probably in Tibet because that is where the stuff was to come from. I never had anything made from bone especially yak bone.

Just say the words yak bone out loud. Go on say it, don't you wish you had something made with yak bone?

So here we are little tid bits of my life, the weather is cooler today and though I love summer I am looking forward to some fall magic.

 Until the next time my fingers want to dance across my keyboard...

Saturday, September 1, 2012

That old Writing Habit

Oh yeah, so when I started this blog I was all excited and I had all these plans. The main goal was to WRITE more. I go around saying I am a writer but I really spend very little time writing. I used to write all the time and I could pump out a story in a day or so and well now I find any reason NOT to write. Really sometimes, I am thinking Yeah that would make a good story  and then I find myself washing the dishes (a necessary evil that I hate doing).

Though I did try to write a story for posting and I worked on it and then I don't know what happened. It's like I need a gun put to my head and then maybe I could write. But have no fear getting back into the writing habit is just as hard as quitting smoking (not that I have but I know people who have tried and either succeeded or not. I just know it is hard).

When I was younger and people told me that writing was hard and they could never sit down and write a story then they would ask, how do I do it. Now I am sitting here wondering how does other people do it. My life is different then it was when I was in high school. And the way I write is different then it was three years ago. Of course in this amount of time, I learned quite a bit about the craft. And just because I am posting it here doesn't mean I want to post crap. I want to write quality and not quanity. I want to spend the time editing and making something good maybe even great.

I admit I fret and edit too much as I write and that is a habit I have to break. Spell check is a blessing but it is also a curse as well. As soon as I see that red line I have to stop what I am  doing and fix the misspelling and then I find myself rereading a passage and now I am rearranging words in other words editing. I should turn spell check off, it is too much of a distraction. So yeah, that is one of my writer quirks.  I am just as loopy as other writers.

Well come back soon and just maybe I will fight against spell check and the pressure of editing constantly because the joy is in creating a story not the editing.