Have you seen a lassie?

I thought I would be able to get my Havamal study and writing done this morning but the snow came in (not as much as was predicted) and that warranted some attention so I could get to work. I have been working on this little short story since I was nominated by Matthew over at Normal Happenings for his prompt the Monster In The Dell. I got to choose a nursery rhyme and try to turn it into a nightmare of sorts. I have to admit I was stumped at first then really wanted to do more like this. Oh, also, beware the content is for mature audiences which are also not of my norm. I’m just stepping out all over the place today.


Did you ever see a lassie, a lassie, a lassie? A once upon a time innocent nursery rhyme is now forever associated with one of the most horrific crimes in our town’s history and sung as a warning reminder by the remaining innocent children. For those not familiar with the game that goes with the rhyme; children would form a circle with a single child in the middle and when the song was over the child would perform an action and the circling children would imitate. Then the process would repeat. The circle and game changed in 1962.

Best was a small Texas town that had the picturesque quiet living community where families lived the American dream. Houses full of families, a butcher that knew you by name, a paperboy with true aim, block parties full of games, gossip, and food, and the quiet neighbor that all the children adored. The quiet man, Gregg, always kept snacks and juice for the kids as they played on the playground equipment behind his house. It wasn’t until after the investigation and trial that Best learned the fate of their children and of their neighbor’s true nature.

The radio crackled, ‘In breaking news, Best citizens are still searching for seven of their children that have been missing for seven days. They were last seen playing in the community park. If anyone has any information please contact the local police department.’ Monster Mash started to playing with October 31st being the seventh day into the search for the missing children. ‘Have you ever seen a lassie, a lassie, a lassie could be heard over monster mash. I could see my Susy playing with four other children in the park from my window. It was getting time to get her in her costume so I headed that direction when I noticed Emma, Susy’s friend in the middle of the children flopping around on the ground. The kids do the weirdest actions for the other kids to follow in this game. Walking towards the children I could see blood pooling around Emma’s tiny body. The other kids seemed to have been in a trance of some sort and a record player was nearby playing the nursery rhyme.

The closer I got the stronger I could smell copper. Emma’s tiny body was being mutilated by a man in a mask. Not a Halloween mask but one that was made from an animal hide of some sort. What happened next was all a blur. I remember screaming then trying to push the kids away from the center of the circle. They just fell over staring in off not fixing on anything. Some were making gurgling sounds some were in a catatonic state. I picked up the radio and blocked the knife-wielding masked man and then everything went black.

‘A young mother discovered the gruesome scene of a murder in progress possibly saving the lives of other unnamed children. Gregory Church has pleaded guilty to a total of thirteen murders.’ I sat there cradling my child realizing how close I was to losing her. Greg was actually the leader of a cult that believed in sacrificing innocent children to please his God. The investigation proved that he had several followers in our small town of Best and that he and they were responsible for the other seven missing children. The nursery rhyme he played helped him drug the children. He would give them all cups of poison and they would follow his lead as he drank from an empty cup. A neighbor heard my scream that day and tackled Greg to the ground before killing me. This allowed other people in the community to come and help the children and notify the authorities. Gregg got greedy on Halloween night and he was caught. If he had waited who knows what other town and what other nursery rhyme he would have destroyed.

As the town got older the incident turned into a memory that spawned several different versions. But the one thing that remains true throughout each version is the nursery rhyme. Kids sing it as a way to warn and remind others of what happened and that one of the members weren’t caught in 1962.

© Jo Create PTSD Gal

Finish the Story 2019 #3 – One Day

This was a great distraction and an opportunity to think outside the box. As of late I have shied away from nominating and participating in certain things as my anxiety seems to have hijacked my thoughts about me but here it is me writing outside my comfort zone. The awesome Kristian has helped do this by nominating me to add to the story. I wish it was more but I would like to hand the pass the torch to Jay-lyn another amazing blogger that I love to read. All of this is possible thanks to the talented Teresa over at The Haunted Wordsmith.

Rules:

  1. Copy the story as you receive it.
  2. Add to the story in some fashion.
  3. Tag another person to contribute to or finish the story.
  4. Please use FTS as a tag so I can find it or link back to part 1.
  5. Have Fun!

Part one – from The Haunted Wordsmith

Victor tugged at the rigging and twisted the rusty knob on the gas tank. He didn’t like leaving his family’s lives in the hands of a second-hand balloon, but what could he do? Everything was gone already; he was lucky to have found this under all the other rubbish in the dump.

“Here, Papa.” Maddie handed him her small, floral bag filled with all her worldly possessions.

He looked in her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Is there room, Papa?” Jacob clutched his bag close to his chest. “I don’t really need it if there isn’t.”

Victor took his son’s bag and looked inside. Tears flowed down his cheeks. “There is always room for our dreams.” He tucked the wrapped notebook and Maddie’s bag into a small cubby in the balloon’s basket.

Maddie went in first, then Jacob.

“Victor,” Rose said, wiping the tears from her husband’s face, “we are doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

He held her hand against his cheek and closed his eyes. Silently, he nodded and took a deep breath. “It’s the only way.”

Victor helped her into the basket, then he climbed in and turned the knob on the flame. The family waited and watched as the sky filled with balloons. Friends and neighbors made the same choice they had. Many would, some didn’t. It was the only way.

As the balloon tugged against its last connection to the Earth, Maddie screamed and pointed. Victor turned and saw …

Part two – my Addition

The horde of Invaders, wearing their strange red painted leather armour and waving their jagged swords in the air, come marching over the hill.

No one knew where these strange people had come from. It had only been a year ago when radio waves from space had been received that proved they were not the only inhabited planet in the universe. Then they arrived with their great big ships. First, they took over Washington DC. No one had cared when they publicly executed their President, most people didn’t like him much anyway, but then they started turning people into slaves.

The world had been so divided against each other that they could not stop this mighty external force and now they had made it to California.

America was finished. Only one country now held any chance of resistance. They were going to try to make it to Russia. His grandparents had fled from there to escape Communist ideology and now he was trying to go back. He hoped the little bit of Russian he remembered being taught on his Grandmothers knee would be enough to get by.

Victor jumped into the Balloon basket and cut the rope. The wind picked up and they drifted off, just in the nick of time.

The prevailing wind blew them Northwestwards across Oregon and slowly out to sea.

Rose began dishing out some of their meagre food rations, bread and cheese, when she started laughing, hysterically.

Victor grabbed her arm “What is it?”

Rose looked up into his face and said …….

To be Continued.

Jo’s Take:

Rose replied through giggles, ‘Our passports are under the cheese. Why are we hiding these?’ ‘I was trying to hide the cheese.’ Victor giggled at her. The mood instantly lightened in the small basket when Rose and Victor smiled as the horde disappeared under the canopy of the forest below. Victor leaned over and whispered, ‘let’s try to set good examples for our children.’ Rose nodded as he kissed her cheek.

The asylum seeking family sat in the basket quietly wincing in unison as the wind whipped tore through the worn woven wicker. Rose could see the kids were shivering and getting scared. Out of her gear bag, she pulled out a sleeping bag a bundled it around her children. ‘You guys want to play a game?’ Just as Rose was about to tell the kids she could hear screaming from below. Victor peered over the side and….

Fates Dread

I had such a difficult time with this story. There is so much more I want to add and write but I have to get ready for work and if it’s any longer then it’s no longer considered a short story. I strayed from the normalcy of Norse mythology and wanted to dabble a little in romance and fate.


Even at night in the comfort of darkness, Asta felt uneasy. She had a gift and honed it over the years. A völva is respected, feared, and regarded but Abigail couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. She was feared more than anything as her beauty was still intact but she accepted the solitude as it was her path in life. She paced with nervousness and rubbed her sweaty palms on the back of her linen gown. She thought about tossing her runes and thought perhaps not and knew it wasn’t her time to be taken from the earthly realm.

She could hear the wind pick up outside as if helping her dread come to her door. The candles flickered on the tables in her room and the fire roared a little louder than it should for being in a hearth. Asta sat at her weaving and began to work on her blanket when she lost herself between the threads and hand motions. She could see a man walking away from bodies, sword in hand. With every footstep, she could hear thunder and feel the steps vibrating through her. A feeling of emptiness consumed her but was rescued from it with a banging on her door.

She opened the door to find a young child looking up at her. This was not her usual seeker of truth. She knelt to his level but he said nothing. ‘I’m Asta. Would you like some stew?’ The boy didn’t answer but took her hand. Not to lead her but to show her. The moment he gripped her hand she was taken back to the bloody field. This time the man was walking to her and not just in her direction. When the boy let go of her hand she was standing in the field behind her home and in front of her was the man from her visions.

Asta finally spoke, ‘Gulbrand.’ She said in a knowing timid whisper. He stepped closer to her, ‘Asta.’ They knew each other’s names without knowing one another. He took her hand and the final scene was revealed when he kissed her cheek. The moment his warm rough lips touched her smooth cool cheek she was taken back to the field. In a tent of red fabric, she sat in a chair cradling a full term belly rubbing the soles of her feet on furs that covered the ground. Gulbrand entered and washed his hands and face before kneeling in front of Asta. He cradled the unborn child looking up at Asta and smiled. The field of bodies was a cost of protection. Then Asta was shown the same field where Gulbrand was playing with a young boy. He was the same child at her door, her future son.

Then it was darkness and dread and willed its way back to her. Gulbrand, as if reading her mind, ‘Don’t fear your fate. Our saga began the moment your vision revealed me. Our paths were chosen by the Gods. Our son is destined to be the future of man.’ Asta knew more than Gulbrand. Their son is may be the future of man but also ends the futures of others. That was the dread she felt.

Twittering Tales #119: Seer’s Sup

I haven’t participated in one of these challenges by was inspired by the Kristian to give it a go. This was a refreshing exercise and enjoyed it. If I can remember to do these I think they would be great to elaborate on for my longer stories on Fridays.


She sat quietly beside her cauldrons as they cooked the evening’s meal. No one visits a seer like herself unless it’s crucial. In the flames that danced under her supper, she saw pain, laughter, and heartbreak. She looked up at the new desperate stranger. ‘Sit. Sup then answers.’

280 Characters

Soup Pot

I was super inspired by the book that my husband and I have been searching for the past 2 weeks. My grandmother’s ‘reference’ cookbook. I have a great idea but will post about that later. Here is my short story Soup Pot (word count 229).

“2 cups water, check,” Amy called out ingredients as she poured them into her grandmother’s pot. What better way to feel her grandmother around her by cooking her soup recipe in her soup pot? She swore her grandmother’s soup had healing powers.

After hours of gently simmering it was time to serve. She ladled spoonfuls into a soup bowl and sat with a box of crackers. Instead of her first bite taking her back to the days they spent in the kitchen it was just soup. It tasted fine and was very satisfying but not what she had expected. Amy read the recipe again and every ingredient was in that pot. She stared at the soup, stared at the empty kitchen, and stared at the recipe.

All Amy could do was gently blow on her soup and cry. Unknowingly a tear fell into her bowl and with her next bite a warm began in the pit of her stomach and worked its way to her limbs. The kitchen took the nostalgic warm hue and she heard it. Amy heard the voice of her grandmother.
‘A recipe, cricket, are just words on a paper of food thrown in a pot. It’s the love you stir them with that makes the dish so good. Cook with love. That’s the one ingredient you can’t put into words or buy of a shelf.’

Becoming Small

Today is the first step towards writing more and keeping it within a reasonable word limit. I have lost my interest in writing with everything that has been going on in life so once a week I get to sit down and go outside my comfort zone, find new characters, explore new worlds, or find some poetic justice for any insecurities I may have. I left my comfort zone for the first story. Maybe I could branch into a type of romantic erotic writing or maybe I’m setting myself up to fail at another goal. For now, I’m happy with this.


It happened gradually over time. Not overnight, not even over a month. I never noticed laying next to him at night wide awake wondering if we are still in love. Am I still in love? It seemed like decades since he has touched me in the loving way a man touches a woman. Lack of human intimate touch can make one feel small. How small one feels when looking at love from a distance.

Through snowy days, we talked like a couple rather than siblings. The feeling of smallness began to wane until one night we broke from our mundane routine. At first feelings of butterflies nervously fluttering around gave way to a passion that neither of us had felt in a long time. Still, underneath a loving embrace, I became small. It didn’t happen overnight, not even over a month. It happened that night. Feeling loved, alive, feminine, desired, and beautiful. How wonderful it is to be small under the emotions of love.


Word Count: 164 Word Count Goal: 50
Story: Jo © thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com
Picture Credit: Burlington Ontario Artist, Sarah Leckie

The Nothings

I had a dream that left me inspired but sad. Not sad but heartbroken. Not heartbroken but empty. This could be due to the current feelings I went to bed with or a situation or the fact that I can feel other people’s emotions. The only problem with this is I can’t let it go.


There’s a darkness that escapes only to feel the light for a second.
This escape is a leak of nothings.
It’s feeling a loss that was never found or buried.
It’s feeling cold in a warm car.
It’s a memory that never happened.
It’s being lonely with someone sleeping next to you.
It’s feeling empty after a meal.
It’s pretending to be happy when all you want to do is cry.
Let the darkness escape to feel the light.
Feel all the nothing feelings.
And when you’ve felt all that you can feel of the nothing,
Seek out the why and give the nothings something to hold and feel.

Friday’s Corner

It’s Friday! Made it through another week. I’ve had hardly any work to do but since everything is blocked on the internet I’m left sitting playing solitaire on the computer. I had people express their sympathy for how I’m being treated and that it hasn’t gone unnoticed but that’s not going to change the fact that I’m looking for another job. I had two emails from employers, ‘we are going ahead with our process’ or ‘we feel another candidate would be better suited.’ I’m just hoping that my current employer has given a bad reference. Why would they? I’m bringing my doodle book and some other stuff to keep me occupied.

I wrote a little short story. It’s nothing much but it was enough to get me excited about writing again. Happy Friday!

Corner Watcher

For years she played with Gemma. They were inseparable just as a girl and friend should be. Then her Gemma grew apart having less in common. Gemma sits on a chair in the corner of her friend’s room, watching as she made plans and growing up.
She sat in that corner for years watching her friend grow up into a young woman.
She watched triumphs and trophies, first loves and heartbreaks. She watched fights with her parents and life learned lessons. Through the years Gemma noticed an unknown shadow slowly get closer to her friend’s window. At first, Gemma didn’t think anything of it but grew concerned when she could see that the shadow had human characteristics. She wanted to scream at her once forever friend about the danger lurking outside. One night her friend was woken by the sound of broken glass. Gemma could see the figure was now in the room and her friend was making an escape. Gemma glared the man down as he hurriedly left out the window he broke through. The father came in the room with a 911 operator on the floor, ‘Yes, I think we’ll be able to identify the intruder,’ as he picked up Gemma from her corner chair. As usual, Gemma saw everything sitting in the corner. The triumphs, heartbreaks, plans being made and thanks to the little nanny came, she also saw the intruder.

Deprecation and Humor

I don’t know what I would call this? A poem? It doesn’t qualify as a limerick. It’s just a little conversational example of my thoughts through some days. But I also wanted to include what I tell myself and some of the humor in it. The past month was brutal but I was realized I made it worse for myself. I withdrew from a lot and it wasn’t really for soul searching it was for other reasons. My husband wasn’t much help but I stopped blaming him for most of the issue. I had to pull myself out of the slump. I was afraid that if I fell further into it there would be no coming out. I’m getting there and forcing myself to find time for things I like to do. I included one of my Inktober doodles for this poem. I  thought it was fitting.


I’m not normal, what is wrong with me?
-It’s ok, what is normal anyway?
I’m not society’s vision of beautiful?
-It’s ok, why do you want to be like everyone else?
I don’t make enough money.
-Are you comfortable, house, food, and a little extra for coffee?
I’m not adequate for another job.
-If you don’t try then you’ll never go anywhere?
Why do I question my own existence?
-Are you talking to me?

Happy Birthday Daddy

Today is my father’s birthday. As I get older I now understand how important it was to him for us to just be there. We didn’t have to bring gifts of cake but our presence was what he wanted. It’s what I now want with the kids getting older and having their own lives and things to do. I’m learning to let a lot go and understand that they have to grow even if it means away from me. Tonight I thought we would all go out to dinner for my dad’s birthday and then over the weekend, I’ll work on finding a Scottish or Swedish dessert recipe to take place of his birthday cake, or even better a Scottish cake. If any of my readers have a recipe of Scottish or Swedish origins to share it would be greatly appreciated.

I thought I would try my hand at poetry again but this time kind of honoring my father and my quest to understand what he unknowingly passed down to me.


I Lost Something

I lost something I’ve never known.
Obsolete and unsure,
without the guidance from a living cornerstone.
Often wondering if I belong or even where,
Identifying with no one and solitaire.

I lost something I’ve never known.
Is it there and can it be shown?
Do I ask to learn?
Is this my concern?

I lost something I’ve never known
but promise an oath to learn of seeds sown.
How do I prepare?
I’ll start with some cookware.

6 Word Story: 10/12

I’m sneaking a moment away to write my 6-word story. The house wasn’t a conducive creative writing environment and my husband is still not understanding that I need my ‘me’ time. I’m not that busy here at work so I can write this quick but it breaks my heart that I can’t even sneak away and draw.


The mutant whale destroyed the laboratory.

6 Word Story: 10/11

I think I’m going to have to take a break from writing…forget about drawing. I have no time and it seems like my husband doesn’t understand that I need time without interruptions or noise to at least concentrate on my ideas. I’m heartbroken that it has come to this to make a point but I don’t have the time. I’m going to do my best to sneak away but if not please understand that I’m overwhelmed and busy.


Prompt: Cruel

Werewolves are shunned by other wolves.

6 Word Story: 10/10

Yesterday was an off day. New moon? Teen stress? Hell of a storm that was blowing in? Who knows but it brought a migraine that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Ok, maybe my absolute worse but you get the idea. Dreading weigh-in tomorrow to the point I don’t even want to attempt to get on the scale. Let’s just start with the 6-words and hope for the best to come. It’s getting to be really tiring trying to be positive.


Prompt: Flowing

Her wand streamed magic and Netflix.

6 Word Story: 10/9

I have come to the conclusion that I’m literally going to have to take a mini-vacation, leave the town, barricade myself in a room with room service so I can draw. I managed to finish 3 drawings and add 2 inkings to the larger project but it took me 6 hours. I went to bed exhausted only to have a husband with back spasms refusing to take his meds because they make him sleepy. They make him sleepy at bedtime?! At the end of our conversation, he decided that it would be wise to get up and take his meds. Cleaning my coffee pot now, packed my art supplies up to take to work with me so I can work on it during lunch and breaks, got dinner pulled out and planned so hopefully tonight I’ll get everything done.


Prompt: Precious

A witches most cherished item; grimoire. 

6 Word Story: 10/7-8

As a mom, I can attest to the fact that it’s exhausting making holiday childhood memories for your kids. But it’s worse when you’re trying to make it special but they don’t want to really participate unless it involves money or food. I think next year I may not have to go all out with lights and pumpkin carving but it is kind of surreal realizing that they are growing up and there is nothing I can do about it. Here are my story catch-ups and hopefully tonight I will have all my sketches done provided I get dinner done, kid to work, kid to sports practice, and a kid to do his homework.


Prompt 10/7: Exhausted

Bigfoot tired trying to make friends. 

Prompt 10/8: Star

'That star grants curses through wishes.'

6 Word Story: 10/6

I think I have all the errands done now we wait for a kiddo to get off work so we can go get our ‘porch’ pumpkins per our family tradition. Then there will be a sleepover to prepare for (not at my house) then the older kids and adults will have a horror movie night.


Prompt: Drooling

'Mom! The monster is drooling again.'

 

6 Word Story: 10/5

Last night could have used some improvement but having a teenager that thinks she knows EVERYTHING is tiring. So tiring in fact that I fell asleep at 7pm. Then this morning my husband woke up to back spasms and since he doesn’t want to listen to me…I’m going to start getting ready for work and write. I know I’m behind by a day on my Inktober drawings but plan on ignoring everything around here and getting in the drawing zone.

Today’s post…I laughed trying to make it scary or Halloweenish. It just didn’t work.


Prompt: Chicken

Chop. The poultry ran witnessing beheadings.

 

 

6 Word Story: 10/4

Running super late but did my weigh in and actually got on the treadmill. I’m hoping to get this post done along with another one before I have to head to work. I still have to eat breakfast and finish packing everything up for the day. Oh, the kids. Shoot. I have to get the kids up. Following Inktober’s prompt list today’s prompt gave me a bit of a problem. I’m drawing a blank.


Prompt: Spell

Chants, orange glows; irresistible to children.

6 Word Story: 10/3

As some of you may have seen my little guy was sent home yesterday with a fever. Normally, I don’t really worry about fevers but this one kept my son up until 1am. Now, he’s up with only a few hours of sleep wanting to go to school. I would gladly let him since his fever has broken but per school policy, he has to be free of fever for 24 hours. He wanted oatmeal for breakfast and it exploded all over the microwave…I’m ready to throw the entire house away. Today’s prompt is going to be a difficult one to draw for the official Inktober prompt list which is also the same list I’m using for story prompts. I  think I should try to get into the spooky mood with these.


Prompt: Roasted

Burning odors indicated the witch's conjuration.

 

 

 

 

6 Word Story: 10/2

I woke up a little earlier than normal so I can write and draw. Unfortunately, I only have time for one since I forced myself to get on the treadmill for 15 minutes. Tonight I think the family will survive and can fend for themselves. I already have a vision in mind of what I would like to draw but it’s the execution I’m intimidated by. What is today’s prompt to you?


Prompt: Tranquil

Create what you need for peace.

 

 

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