The Property Next Door – Scary Story-A-Day, Day 1

I have never really talked about something I truly love, and that is Halloween. One glance around this blog, and anyone might know I have a dark hole in my heart, even if it is tiny. It is filled with horror movies, dark poems, and creepypasta.

I have decided I will bless you with a story-a-day until the arrival of Halowen. Each story is completely different, but is related to the things I see everyday because inspiration has to come from somewhere.

I worked on this piece last night. it is surprising that even on my small iPad keyboard, how quickly one can type out 2,000 words. That is the rough word count of this particular story. So settle in, dim the lights, lock your doors, and become acquainted with the Property Next Door.

A little note: I am working on “showing not telling”, if you have any time, please let me know how I did. Thank you

It occurred to me the property next door was calling my name, not literally, of course, but something was pulling me toward its rotting side paneling, it’s grimy windows, and the front door swinging on only two hinges. The hedges were overgrown. The untamed branches scraped the siding and helped devour the decrepit house. The grass entangled with the thick weeds. They seem to dance across the yard. Each lady beckoning me to join in their seductive tango. I sat on my porch everyday staring at the rusted, sagging tin roof that sat lifelessly on drooping metal siding. Ivy climbed up, around, and inside the house. The earth was consuming the tin shack and it wanted me to join the party.

I was certain I would only ever watch nature devour the house, as I sat from the safety of my porch, rocking in my chair, but the need to walk into the depths of the tangled grass and weeds, to walk inside the tin house that may fall to its death if I push open the swinging door, was strong; stronger than the will I had to stop myself.

I stepped off my porch, onto my freshly cut lawn, out onto the gravel road that led to the highway. My feet dragged behind me as if my mind were trying to stop me, but my heart, or perhaps it was my ignorance overriding my logic, pulled me forward, and I ignored my slow, crawling pace.

I reached the enchanted dance, and I was sure the weeds and grass separated their romantic entanglement to let me pass with ease. As if they were waiting; waiting to soak up my remains like the remains of a rotting corpse. They flowed back and forth, tickling my skin with each pass. I was in a daze. My feet became a little lighter with each delicate touch.

I paused to take in the tin shack. Each window caked with grey grime so thick, peering inside was out of the question. It was something I wanted to do because a sliver of logic bled into my brain after turning to see the weeds and grass had returned to their dance. This time, the dance was more sinister, and my heart jumped as their touches become more aggressive, as if they were now forcing me to open the door and go inside.

A weed snapped its filthy tip across my cheek and my head whipped violently to my front. My eyes becoming locked on the door swinging from the bottom two hinges. It was open further than before. A blade of grass whipped my calves almost putting me to my knees. I turned my head to look behind me and I saw a wall of tangled grass and weeds so thick a chainsaw would see difficulty getting through. The wall grew quickly behind me, growing thicker and taller, becoming more violent. It pushed me onto the front porch, my feet stumbling on the swooping, rotting wooden steps. I fell to my knees not being able to regain my balance after the wooden step seemed to trip me. I hit my head on the swinging door. My vision blurred and a knot grew on my head. I struggled to get to my feet, gaining splinters from the unmanaged porch. My hand flinched with each piece of entering wood through my skin. I found my way to the door handle, not needing to open the door; the door opened slowly, inviting me in, saving me from the dangers of the outdoors.

The daylight leaked in from the opening between the sagging siding and the oddly shaped roof. The sun’s rays lit the floor which wasn’t a floor at all but a placement of dirt. I was inside a house made of tin sides, a tin roof, and a dirt floor. My mind raced as to who would live inside a metal box without a floor. The tin house contained a small kitchen without any appliances save for a hot plate. Roaches scurried across the counter. A mouse hid inside a rusting can. In another corner rested a cot. The tattered blanket swept over the sides with a brown pillow that was once white. A 5 gallon bucket sat in another corner. It was once a green bucket. You could see the original bucket’s color along the bottom edges, sinking into the dirt. The rest of the bucket was covered in filth, feces, and a thicket of flies, roaches, and maggots. The more I stared, the more bile began to crawl up my throat. I quickly turned away and started for the door. I didn’t care what I thought the weeds looked like outside, I was removing myself from this property. Logic had filled my brain, drowning out the desire of my heart to stay and explore. I raced toward the door which was actually only a few feet away being as the tin shack was only ten or twelve feet wide.

I reached and what was once a door hanging on two hinges was a door fully hinged, bolted to the wall. I placed my hands on the knob and shook violently, screaming for the house to let me out. Stoping myself from becoming too hysterical, my fully logical brain remembered the sagging siding and knew I could climb on a counter and slip my body out of a wall.

I ran to the roach infested counter. I placed my hand on the wood to brace myself for the climb, and roaches fled in all directions. I tried to remain calm as a few found their way onto my skin. I stepped onto the counter top and grabbed the broken siding. I pulled down as hard as I could, but my foot slipped from the moldy, feces covered counter, and I fell to the dirt floor. When I regained my bearings, the oddly placed roof had swiveled into its proper place, aligning with the siding, locking all the possessions and inhabitants inside. The windows were now black and locked. The sun was blocked, now only bouncing off the tin roof, giving more life to the ivy that encased the metal.

My heart skipped, my stomach churned, my head ached. I was in a near panic; willing to tunnel my way out. I became angry at myself for becoming entranced by the rotting piece of junk on the property next door. I screamed and the house shook with what felt like laughter. The sink rattled, the cot scraped across the dirt, and the filth filled bucket, bubbled. Each pop oozed on the floor creating mud, and growing a stench foul enough to make the roaches flee.

Looking all around, feeling my heart pound through my chest, I saw the roof shift to make room for something sinister. The ivy began to tear its way inside the oddly shaped roof. It crawled down the metal walls, and seemed to thrive as it reached the dirt and make its way to my ankles at a faster pace. My breath left my body as I yearned to scream. I clawed my way to the only exit and the ivy wrapped itself around my legs leaving me with only the use of my arms. If only I could unbolt the door before the ivy trapped me forever. My nails dug into the door frantically. Each scrape broke a nail making some of them bleed. I screamed in agony, but mostly from fear. I was going to die in this house, encased by the same ivy that I watched take over the house from the comfort of my porch.

The same logic that failed me earlier in this tragic day, reminded me of a knife I kept in my pocket. The ivy circled its way around my waist closing up all entry into my pockets. I took my blood soaked hand and struggled to fit my hand between the dough exterior of my jeans and the sticky coarse skin of the treacherous ivy. Although I disagree, at the moment, luck would have my hand finding my only salvation. My blood soaked nail beds made a lubricant. The ivy had found its way around my trapped arm. I kept my free arm above my head, but the ivy grew faster. I grasped my knife and wedged it out of my pocket. I tossed it onto the dirt. I shifted as best as I could so my nearly free arm could reach the knife. My fingers scraped the dirt, barely managing to wrap my bloody hand around the grip. Once I had my fingers firmly planted, I screamed with my last big breath of air. The ivy had reached its way around my throat, circling up my chin. The ivy had wrapped itself around my upper arm, leaving only my lower arm free. What was left of any movement I could muster, I aimed at stabbing the ivy. The knife made its way to the thick, green ivy around my upper arm. Each thrust was devastating. Blood was everywhere. But it wasn’t the ivy that bled. Sensing danger, the ivy shrank in size with every pending stab. I never had a chance. The ivy made its way around my face, locking its grip around my eyes.

I was trapped. I lost all hope. I let the ivy wrap me into a cocoon. My bloody arm unlocked its grip around what I once thought was my savior. You could hear the metal house shifting. The dirt floor parted like the Red Sea. The oddly shaped roof once again became oddly placed. The sagging siding let the sun highlight its certain spots. The door became slightly unhinged and completely unbolted. The roaches and mouse took their assigned places, and the weeds and grass stopped arguing and began their romantic, persuasive dance; making itself reading for its next victim who stares curiously at the property next door.


The Woods

Living in the woods had its perks. It also had its drawbacks. 

The thunder came with the roll of the dark clouds, soon the lightning flashed and lit a black sky.

He just had to go outside. He begged at the door and I waited until he nearly wet all over the floor. I did not want to go out there. The flashes of light brought shadows I was sure were not trees. The growing fog made the shadows move. 

After careful consideration in the black of night, he found the perfect place to do his business. I waited impatiently; staring into the darkness, just as a flash of lightning tainted the sky for a mere second. 

He growled. It was deep and unsettling. I looked into his direction, but saw only black. Then he barked. The sudden, bellowing noise startled my senses. He squirmed, fought, and found his way out of his collar, darting to the house. I stood frozen, peering into the darkness. I could hear him howling as he scraped his paws at the door begging for someone to let him in, but that someone was being sucked into the woods by a thick fog with each bright flash of light. 

The branches curled and twitched. The soil rose and entrapped itself between my toes, up my ankle, and around my calves. The fog wrapped itself around my bones like a fresh quilt. The lightning flashed a brilliant glow and the thunder made itself known with a deafening clash. The howl of the dog grew silent. For a moment, I was sure he had given up on his savior opening the door. It was then I realized the silence was distance. 

I was further into the woods than I ever cared to go. Now the soil was around my neck and the soft blanket of fog was dripping into my throat. The soil tightened its grip and the fog was a drink I couldn’t get down. I choked and gasped. The branches twitched with delight as the lightning heckled across the sky. The thunder laughed. The woods knew, the earth giggled, and I realized it was feeding time. I sank into the ground with one last thought…living in the woods had its perks.

Fresh Out

Ahh… We haven’t had one of these in a while – a quote from yours truly, Tim. I figure since it is the last Wednesday of the first month of the new year, (none of which is remotely significant), we should make Tim dig deep into his brilliant brain and quote us on this fine Wednesday.

I ain’t got no quote! – Tim

Oh well, I tried.

Happy Freakin Wednesday!

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Reach, Baby! Reach!

The pain of training is nothing compared to the pain of not reaching your potential.

Josh Cox, US 50k Record Holder

On this Monday, reach your potential.
Happy Monday!

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My Long Reflection


It’s another day into a year that seems to be flying by. I am reflecting today. This blog was created in November of last year. It has grown in so many ways. The layout is different and the topic has changed. I refocused the blog to a different group of people. I even have a Facebook page. You can like it here. 😉 However, I still love to write. Even though I haven’t written for pleasure in a long time, I think about it every day.


Here is where the reflection comes in. I have numerous ideas for books, short stories, and children’s books. Over the course of many years, I jot down my ideas and sometimes get started on them. My problem is that I do not finish anything. (almost anything)

I did finish a scary story and actually sent it in to an editor. It was sent back, as I knew it would. It needs a complete re-write and I am okay with that. Have I started? No. I started writing some children’s stories about morals. I have completed 2 out of the 8 proposed stories. Another task goes incomplete. I have this great story about a girl who has a horrible past and did her best to cover it up. Years later it is being uncovered – literally. Good plot lines – romance, thrills, action. Status? Not finished. I have other books in the making. Status? You guessed it – not finished.

I reflect today on the things undone. This summer, I would love to finish them. I fear it will not happen. The reasons could pile up to the ceiling, but they are merely excuses. I almost started to list my numerous excuses and then decided to erase. Oh that backspace button. So instead of finding reasons why I can’t finish these publications in the making, I will start with listing the things I want to do and cross them off as I go. This list will be visible for all the world to see. I shall give my self reasonable deadlines, (I need this), and pursue each with everything I have. I hope this will teach me a thing or two about the one thing I cannot grasp – time management skills. I have a slight grasp, but my palms are sweaty and my body is tired from dangling off this rocky cliff. Nevertheless, it shall be done!!

I will call this list….

The List of Possibles

1. Polish ‘Decisions‘ – Send to editor

2. Find an illustrator, (cheap) for 1st children’s book. Try to publish.

3. Start re-writing scary story. Start screenwriting process.

4. Finish rest of children’s books about morals. 3-8 (only 5 left!)

5. Finish second book.

6. Start second book.

Task 1 – Due Saturday, June 16th

Task 2 – Due to an editor, when I find perfect illustrator – any takers???

Task 3 – Due October 31st – Seems fitting. 😉

Task 4 – Due December 31st – Also seems fitting.

Task 5 – To be started in January – Finished by March (it looks to be a long tale)

Task 6 – Only to be started when ALL other tasks are finished. Start time – April. End time – September or October – This one will take a lot of research.

There. 6 tasks. Should be pretty easy. I hope everyone will check back to this post to keep up on my progress. I am a HUGE procrastinator, so this should be interesting. Maybe I can look back on this and reflect in a different manner. That I actually can finish something and make something of myself. It’s a slow process, but I want to do it with hard work and originality.


I read 2 books this week; Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter and The Hunger Games. I am going to give a short review of each and my opinion.

The first book, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by: Seth Grahame-Smith, (my favorite author – who also wrote: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies- awesome book), was all I expected it to be and more. It was bloody, action packed, and gave a great insight to a man with a rich history. I really recommend this book and any other book by Seth Grahame-Smith. The book follows Abraham throughout his entire life. It has inserts from his journals and gives details about his hunt for these vicious demons. These monsters that took most of his family, wife, and sons, not to mention his soul. He has vowed to kill them until his last breath. His adventure takes you to the deepest, darkest places in his mind. The story, even though I am sure isn’t real, leaves you questioning the truth about one of the greatest presidents in American history. You are sure to leave the book with a wonderful, exciting tale of a president who freed all men from tyranny, even himself.

Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter
Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The next book, The Hunger Games by: Suzanne Collins, was better than I thought it would be. I do have one negative thing to say about the book. First, I want to say that I am by no means a master of grammar, but I do have a general knowledge of the rules. With that being said, I had a bit of trouble following the book because I started to become obsessed with the errors. I tried my best to overlook it and decided that maybe it was published in its form on purpose. Maybe the fragments, run-ons, and improper use of commas was meant to be left alone to give the book more of a diary feel. I suspect this only because it was written in first person and it somehow gives the reader a more personal feeling toward the main character. This is actually a big negative because it can make a good book hard to read. As I said before, I am not the grammar queen, but it is something I noticed. The book is good. I loved the blood, gore, action, her fight for survival, her sense of humor, ( and sometimes lack of), the books infinite details, and the gripping hook at the end. It has compelled me to, someday, buy the next in series. I also will see the movie. I know, I’m a late bloomer. But better late than never.

Cover of "The Hunger Games"
Cover of The Hunger Games

This is a long post. I may not have time to keep the post going this week, which brings me to part 3 of my blogging.


I would love to post something everyday. I often run out of pictures and funny things my husband says. So I would like to venture on a path traveled frequently by bloggers. However, I do not want to go the traditional way. I will conform, but not fully. I have been considering labels, (which I hate) for each day of the week and gearing a post towards the label. Obviously, I don’t like to label things and feel that if I want to blog, I should be able to let my long fingers talk about anything they want.

I am going to give my list and I would like your opinion, if you are still with me and this long post.

  1. Manic Monday – posts or rants. Mondays suck. Let’s make ourselves feel better by bitching and by ‘ourselves’, I mean the voices in my head. I must appease them. 😉
  2. Trail Tuesday – Maybe I can focus this day on running.
  3. Wacky Wednesday – Who cares what I talk about. It’s freaking Wednesday.
  4. Teachy Thursday – I have class Wednesday night. I would like to use this day to recap my thoughts – if any.
  5. F&%@ing Friday – Who cares what I talk about. It’s f@$%ing Friday.
  6. Surprise Me Saturday – I may start volunteering at the animal shelter. I think I would like to save Saturdays to talk about that. Or you may never know. It’s a surprise!
  7. Fun-Day Sunday – I guess I better start doing fun things.

What do you think? Yeah? Nay?

If I have a goal, it might help move this blog along. I have about 45 followers and many people like the pictures, quotes, and sometimes my long rambles. I think it could really go somewhere with a schedule. Or I can just go with the flow of whatever I think feels right.

This post has helped me reflect on where I have been and where I know I want to go. It’s just a matter of getting there.

Thanks for reading!!


A Look Back

Again, I have nothing to say that requires blog support. So here is something written years ago, during a time of great heartache and confusion. I hope you enjoy while I conjure up something new and wonderful for your reading pleasure.

The Poem


Something Old

Since I don’t have anything to say right now that exceeds a paragraph, I will share something old. It is a story written years ago. I love it. It’s a dark thriller, complete with dread, blood, and  a psycho. I need to polish it up a bit. That is something I plan to do while I have a break from school. Hope you enjoy it while I think of something insightful to write about or perhaps rant about.

Something Old


Blood (Photo credit: Eyes On My World)


I saw your face today, but you weren’t there.
I felt your presence, but you weren’t there.
I wanted to hug you, but you weren’t there.
Tell you I love you, but you weren’t there
I cry when I need you and you aren’t there.
It hurts when I need you and you aren’t there.
I never thought of what I would do when you left me here.


Let’s Remember Why

Yep, another blog post about Memorial Day.

I have something to say, (as if you didn’t know that). It’s a bit of a rant. I actually come across this thought every year and every time I see another ad taking advantage of another holiday.

If you weren’t aware by the endless commercials, store-front ads, screaming radio ads, flashy billboards, and the extended weekend, Memorial Day is upon us.

By now, you may assume what this rant is about; the commercializing of another holiday. While you are partially correct, I also have a few more things to add.

I am former military. Ever since I could remember, I have always had something to say about people who take for granted the reasons they are free. I am able to blog today because men and women fought for this country. They fought to have basic rights. They stood up for everything that had meaning and purpose. Men stood their grounds so their children could live a life free from persecution. Today, men and women still stand up for a country they love. We stand up against people who only want to oppress. These soldiers fight for the rights that men and women gave their lives for. If it were not for our virtues, strong will, and dedication to never back down, we would not be able to enjoy the pleasures that many take for granted.

When you are enjoying your extended weekend of shopping, tv watching, bar-b-qs, driving, camping, fishing, boating, and being with family, take a moment to remember why you can do these wonderful things without scrutiny or fear.

Go ahead and take pleasure in the 40% off washer and dryer sale, the paint sale at Lowes, and the buy 1 – get 1 sheet sale; it is your right. Just as it is the right of a company to commercialize on every @#$&%ing holiday. 🙂

I only ask, (again), that we remember why. Thank you.

Memorial Day Commemoration 2008
Memorial Day Commemoration 2008 (Photo credit: davidyuweb)


Take it from a dog… Sharing is fun!


I have decided to share my posts through a newly made Facebook page. This decision is for many reasons. I, at the end of the summer, will be looking to broaden my horizons by finding a new career. I want to make my personal Facebook page private. I get a lot of traffic from Facebook and from other bloggers. Because of this, I have decided that a page, solely dedicated to my blog would be ideal. I will post a link below. I hope to see you there. Where the air is clean, (sort-a), and the birds are chirping, (not all the time), and everyone is happy, (when they’re drunk). Thank you so much! See you on Facebook!

Facebook Page