Vampire Hands [POETRY]

Vampire hands

Slabs of ice

With icy tendrils 

To caress your face

You accept this

What you want

Is blood’s kiss 

To drain you dry

Set you free

Give you darkness 

For eternity

So hold them tight

These vampire hands

And hope the demon understands 

Hope this felt like more than a treat than a trick. My attempt at prose didn't coalesce into something worthy of my loyal readers. I kept this one short and sweet, mostly because I am wore out from trying to keep my crazy little ghouls from running into the street--that is true terror for a mama's heart. We only went to a few houses, but my.generous neighbors have fueled my cuties (and their parents through the parent tax, am I right?) for at least a couple of weeks. Happy Healthy Halloween!

Crazy For Pumpkins [FICTION]

I reach up to scratch my nose, but my arms don’t move. Neither of them. I try again, shrugging my shoulders to send blood rushing down to my fingers. Still no relief for my itching nose.

“Huh?” I mumble as my eyes flutter open.

“It’s alright dear,” a grey-haired woman with rheumy blue eyes assures me, patting my shoulder as she peers into my eyes, “We are here to help me.”

“Oh good.” I sigh with relief. “I can’t move my arms.”

“I know dear.” She smiles patronizingly at me. “We want to keep you from harming yourself or anyone else.”

The way she emphasizes the last two words makes me pause, before tentatively whispering. “What did I do?”

She peers into my face again. “You don’t remember?”

I shake my head.

“I will give you a hint. You may be engaged to every jack-o-lantern in the neighborhood.”

“Umm…” I dig deep into my memory and a flicker of the past night’s events peeks out at me before hiding again.

I gasp and try to raise my hands to my mouth. Of course, I fail.

“So you do remember. These nice men and I are going to take you somewhere where you can get the help you need.” She smiles sweetly and pats my shoulder, stepping back as two burly men in white lab coats step forward.

As they hoist me from the bed, I see my mother peering around the doorframe. Her usually pale face flushes with shame as she looks at me.

“Hey, what am I doing at my mom’s house?” I murmur as that realization strikes me.

As they carry me past my red-faced matriarch, the uncontrollable desire to burp assails me. I try to hold it in, but it rushes out with a loud belch and an oddly sweet aftertaste. My eyes open wide and more memories break free to flood my brain.

~~

“Sorry, doll, it just isn’t going to work out. Have a good night.” Aiden offered a smile like what he just said wasn’t intended to break my heart.

As he turned away, my jaw dropped. I had nothing to say but surprise left me slack-jawed. I watched as he walked down the street to his car. He never turned back. As his car pulled out of the parking lot, I shuffled inside and leaned against the door, pondering whether I was more hurt about how abruptly he had ended things or that I hadn’t ended our relationship first.

I sighed and headed toward my favorite therapist, the freezer. I reached inside extracting one of my usual prescriptions, a whole quart of ice cream. I didn’t bother looking at the flavor as I grabbed a spoon and plopped down onto the couch to assuage my feelings with frozen goodness and cheesy television. I took a bite, thinking for a moment that this flavor didn’t appeal to me, but soon I was wrapped up in the show, spooning the concoction into my mouth without thought.

~

I woke up on the couch with the empty tub smashed into my face. I burped up a flavor that reminded me of grape juice and rubbing alcohol. I wrinkled my nose and stood up. Dizziness overcame me and I found myself on the floor. After a few minutes to get my head straight, I rose again, taking tentative steps toward the door.

As the door swung open, a hazy figure grinned at me. “You don’t need a frog, you need a pumpkin.” The hazy figure offered as she pushed past me into the house.

I pondered this, stifled another burp, and peeked out onto the porch where a candle flickered invitingly from inside a jack-o-lantern’s orange shell. I knelt down before the pumpkin, inspired by the apparition’s words.

“Are you my prince?” I whispered as I leaned in and planted a smooch on his toothy grin.

Nothing happened. I sighed and stood up slowly, surveying the neighbor’s houses. Cackling gourds looked back at me from every porch, beckoning invitingly with tongues of flame.

~~

My cheeks flush pink as I remember how much my own tongue loosened up the more pumpkins I kissed without one transforming into a handsome prince. I burp again and another realization gives me cause for pause.

“Stop! I’m not crazy.” I declare.

The older woman turns to look at me disbelievingly. “I will be the judge of that.”

“I think I was drunk?”

“Think? You’d know if you were drunk.” I can almost feel her patting my shoulder with her condescending eyes.

“I think I accidentally ate my roommate’s ice cream,” I offer.

She looks even more incredulous. “Darling, you can’t get drunk from ice cream.”

My mom steps forward now, her own cheeks still mildly inflamed, “Actually, they make wine ice cream now…”

“Oh, do they?” The old woman raises a hand to her chin thoughtfully.

One of the orderlies nods his head. “My girlfriend loves that stuff.” The look on his face makes it clear he doesn’t share her sentiments.

“Even so, you’d have to eat so much…”

“You should see my wife eat ice cream,” the other orderly offers, loosening his grip on my elbow.

“Let’s just get you to the hospital and…”

The psychiatrist doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as a loud knock on the door precedes a familiar voice calling out in anxious tones, “Mrs. Reams, are you there? Have you seen Kiersten?”

The doctor looks at me, “Your roommate?”

I nod as my mother throws open the door.

“Oh, Kiersten,” my roommate rushes forward to hug me, “I am so glad you are okay. When I saw you ate the ice cream that I…” She pauses as she notices my attire and the strangers surrounding me. “Um, what’s going on?”

“Your friend was acting erratically last night, so we came to take her to the hospital,” the psychiatrist offers dryly. “The ice cream that you did what to?”

“Oh, it was wine ice cream and Kiersten doesn’t drink,” my roommate offers in a rush, giving me an apologetic look.

The psychiatrist looks disappointed, but waves her hand dismissively. “I guess we have a rational answer for her behavior. Help her out of the jacket.” She pauses and leans in to look deeply into my eyes. “And you should never touch alcohol again.”

My eyes widen. “I won’t. I promise.”

Happy Holidays! Hope this piece entertains you and finds you well. I know. I ask a lot of my writing. 

Carving Contest [FICTION]

“Nothing can keep me from carving the most awesome pumpkin ever,” Earl declares, adjusting his mask one last time.

“We know, Earl.” I glance around at the crowd who have shown up to celebrate the art of pumpkin carving.

The assembled masses don’t come close to the normal turnout for this event, but the fairgrounds don’t provide quite enough room to maintain six feet between the normal amount of pumpkin carvers and fans. Earl grins as he steps onto the stage and inspects his pumpkin. He gives me a thumbs up and picks up a carving knife. I watch him deftly cut around the stem and linger a few seconds longer as he begins extracting guts and seeds.

Then I slip out to see who decided to risk the virus and score a booth at this year’s festival. I grab a bag of chocolate-covered roasted pumpkin seeds, a half dozen pumpkin cider donuts, and lose time over a display of pumpkin-themed jewelry before making my way back to the main stage.

Guffaws and snickers herald my re-arrival to the audience. But they are not for me. I look up at the stage to see what comical face has appeared on one of the pumpkins. What I behold sends my own heart down into my shoes, too ashamed to keep beating in my chest.

I know the comedian is Earl because I recognize his shirt, which he emblazoned boldly with the words, “Pumpkin Pimp” in slashes of black magic marker. A pumpkin, however, sits atop his shoulders. One with a face carved on it that has no place among the masterpieces normally produced during the contest.

I sigh. “What did that idiot do now?” I mumble to myself.

A woman about four feet to my left gives me a sympathetic look before looking away as a snicker escapes from her lips. I try to catch her eye to ask her what happened, but she pointedly keeps her eyes averted. I cross my arms and step toward the stage. A guard shakes his head and waves me back.

“But I…” I start to make my case, but he shakes his head again, raising his eyebrows in unspoken challenge.

I bite my lip and step back, waiting to see where this goes. One of the judges steps forward to talk to the guard gesturing at me as she talks. The guard looks at me and then back to the judge before nodding and stepping over to Earl.

“Okay, buddy, we found your sister.” He announces loudly as he puts a hand on Earl’s arm, “We’re going to have her come up here and help you with this mess.”

Earl gives a thumbs up and then begins knocking on the side of his pumpkin head. I hear muffled giggles from within and roll my eyes. I step toward the stage as the guard motions for me to approach.

“What did you do, moron?” I ask as I step up to my brother.

He giggles and spins the pumpkin until I can see one eye peering at me through the crudely cut mouth. “This time, it really wasn’t my fault.”

“How so?” I ask.

“I was just carving my pumpkin…” He begins.

“Why did you bother, this pumpkin looks like something I would do?” I interrupt.

“Oh, this isn’t my pumpkin.” He assures me. “Can I finish my story?”

I shrug and wave a hand to encourage him to get on with it.

He points to another pumpkin that while much smaller, too small for someone to put their head in. A detailed haunted house comes to life on its orange surface. “That is my pumpkin.”

“Oh.”

“And I won first prize.” He holds up a blue ribbon, waving it in my face as he continues. “One of my competitors didn’t like the fact that I won.”

“Was it that you won? Or did you…”

“I did the dance,” he begins to do it again, shaking his hips at me like a bellydancer on overdrive.

 

I cover my eyes. “Oh, please…”

“You should watch this.” He says.

“I have seen it,” I mutter, but I uncover my eyes a little.

He gyrates his butt at me and dances closer and closer, “Fred didn’t like me getting so close to him. Instead of asking me to back off, he just picked up this monstrosity he called a competitor…” Earl pauses to laugh. “And that is how I got to be a pumpkin head.”

We are another day closer to Halloween. I hope you all have plans that are just the right size for you. And I hope this little treat keeps you from wasting that hard-earned toilet paper on my house.

Morning Surprise [FICTION]

Darkness greets me as I reluctantly open my eyes. The beeping of my alarm clock continues as I grumble and roll out of bed. I stumble to the opposite side of the room where I keep my alarm to insure I actually leave my bed. After vanquishing the sound, I stumble into the bathroom, reluctantly flipping on the light switch to bath my ancient shower stall in tepid light.

With a sigh, I turn on the water, so it can be as tepid the light by the time my teeth are clean. Soon my ablutions are done, my towel is sopping wet, and I need clothes to face the day.

I flip on the overhead light and stumble toward my dresser, deftly selecting an outfit without even looking. I am satisfied with my choice until I glance in the mirror. My reflection reveals that the shirt I am wearing doesn’t look right. I sigh heavily and head for the closet.

“A light jacket will fix this,” I mumble as I throw open the door and reach inside.

I scream. Instead of being met with the soft resistance of clothes, something hard bumps against my hand and then clatters eerily against itself. I take a deep bracing breath and open the door further to peer inside. Empty eye sockets stare back at me surrounded by yellowed bone. A toothy smile leers back at me despite the absence of two front teeth.

A handwritten note flutters from a string around its neck as I step closer, “I know all the skeletons in your closet.”

As I register the handwriting, my horror and revulsion fade to childish tittering. In fact, my laughter brings on a bought of hysteria. Soon I am lying on the floor, gasping for breath around violent guffaws.

When I finally pull myself together again, I rise from the floor and send a text.

“Found ur friend. Come get him.”

I wait for a couple of minutes without a reply before realizing that seven in the morning is way too early for the recipient to be awake. I reach past my closet’s new inhabitant to claim a light jacket. 

My unexpected houseguest slips from my mind as I rush through my morning tasks. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the clock.

“11:00. Right on schedule.” I answer the call slowly and cup my hand over my mouth. “I know your secrets, too.” I whisper.

I am greeted by a familiar giggle. “Oh, Patsy, your secrets are my secrets. What do you think of our new friend?”

“He surprised me,” I answer hesitantly.

“How much?”

“What do you mean how much?”

“Did you wake up the neighbors?”

“No.”

“Did you pee your pants?”

“Certainly not.” I drop my hand as I hiss this.

She giggles again. “Too bad. Maybe we will have better luck at the haunter house.”

“Maybe. Since those people aren’t used to your tricks.”

She cackles and the line goes dead. I shake my head and go back to work, wondering exactly what a skeleton has to do with the dragon’s lair theme we chose for this year’s haunted house. I guess I will find out when I transport our bony friend to his new final resting place.

So this was meant to brighten your Friday, but life got in the way. Here it is to brighten your Monday instead. Hope it helps you get into the mood to spook and be spooked. Muhahahahaha!

Camping Chaos [FICTION]

 Summer doesn’t arrive until the tent goes up. That is what my friends say as I grudgingly join them each year for a camping trip. It always ends in disaster, but they somehow talk me into it again and again. This year, I am not the only one ruminating on this irony.

“It’s the s’mores.” Taylor shakes her head knowingly.

“That has to be the only reason Tabby keeps coming.” June agrees.

I shrug my shoulders. “Must be. After all, you guys are no fun.”

“I used to be fun,” Ginny stares glumly into the fire.

“When?” The rest of us ask in unison, chortling good-naturedly.

Ginny doesn’t respond and our laughter dies out. The awkward silence stretches on until June begins slapping out a rhythm on her thighs. Soon we all join in, matching pace easily as we tap out the familiar beat of our high school fight song.

Our musical overture ends abruptly as screams erupt from the nearby woods. Our hands hover over our knees as our eyes dart around the circle. Another scream erupts and we rise to our feet, turning as one to peer into the darkness of the woods.

“What was that?” Taylor’s eyes bulge.

“I think we should go,” June says, reaching for her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But our stuff?” Ginny glances at the tent.

“But our lives?” Taylor hisses.

“Shouldn’t we see if someone needs help?” I ask, taking two tentative steps toward the trees.

Three piercing glances convince me of the insanity of my question. I grab my backpack and follow them back to the trail to our car. We keep up a steady pace, glancing over our shoulders frequently though the forest remains relatively quiet around us.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the halo around the single overhead light in the parking lot. I take one last glance over my shoulder and stop short as I collide with June’s back.

“What the…”

“Shh.” My friends whisper as one.

I open my mouth to point out they just made more noise than me, but the words dissolve into ash in my mouth as I see what has arrested our forward motion. Red liquid shimmers on the hood of Taylor’s black SUV. An arm dangles from roof. Despite the warnings going off in my head, I step forward to get a better look. My eyes scan the parking lot, confused.

“Something’s not right.” I mutter under my breath.

“My car…” Taylor moans.

“That poor person…” Ginny adds.

“We’re next…” June sobs.

“But where is the body…” I take a few more steps, wrinkling my nose as an oddly sweet smell gets blown to me on the breeze. “…and the rest of the blood?”

Screams ring out from the forest around us. I turn toward them. June grabs at my arm as I start walking back into the forest.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to find out who is screaming.”

“You can’t help them.” She hisses.

“I don’t plan to…” I raise my voice. “I plan to kick their butts.”

My three friends look at me in confusion for a moment, but my resolve unfreezes their legs. They match step with me, hovering so close I don’t dare to stop for fear of being trampled.

“Tabby, I hope you’re right.” Taylor whispers fearfully.

“Isn’t your boyfriend a med student?” I ask her as pieces begin to fall together in my head.

“Yes. Are you hurt?” I feel her grab my arm, trying to bring me to a stop so she can check me for injuries.

“I’m fine.” I continue my determined march as I shake my arm free.

When I have control of my arms again, I reach out squeeze Ginny’s hand. “And your boyfriend works in a grocery store?”

“Yes.” She says tentatively.

From somewhere to our left, I hear a familiar voice release and expletive. “I think she’s onto us.”

“Corey?” Taylor asks the darkness.

Laughter erupts and then four flashlights click on, blinding us. “You were supposed to let us rescue you.” 

Corey points his light at the ground, revealing our boyfriends sporting wide grins. 

“I told you Tabby would ruin our fun,” my boyfriend Seth steps forward to wrap his arm around me, “But what did we do wrong?”

“Not that we would ever do this again…” Corey assures us unconvincingly.

“There was only blood on Taylor’s car, not even splattered on the ground. And there was only one arm. Surely, somewhere nearby, we would have seen a torso or something.”

“What can I say? It’s hard to borrow more than an arm from the medical school.” He grins.

“Or any arms? I saw stuffing poking out of the ‘severed’ end.” I frown at him and shake my head. “And the blood smelled super sweet…like corn syrup.”

Ginny’s boyfriend shrugs as she lightly punches his arm. “Sorry, babe.”

Taylor shrugs off Corey’s arm. “Very funny guys. We are going back to our girl’s camping trip. And my car better be pristine when we come back in the morning.”

The boys giggle and head toward the parking lot as we return to our tent.

“We better check the tent for rubber snakes and giant spiders.” I mutter.

“True dat.” Ginny agrees.

We all laugh and get back to the business of celebrating summer with chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers.

~~~

I started this, hoping to make it a summer offering, but my heart wasn’t in it until the spooky season finally arrived, so I hope it was worthy of your creepy peepers.