Working... working...

I am finishing up a horror thriller script.  It needs to be finished this week.

My wish for each and everyone of you, is that this new year brings you an abundance of love, peace and happiness.

Thank you for all your wonderful support.  You are all ROCK STARS!

I look forward to next week... for my  Friday Scary Story.   ; )

Friday Scary Story, December 19, 2014

Meat soup.


It's my specialty.  People love it.

I only make it once a year.  It takes time to gather the ingredients.  It takes time to gather my meat.

I hunt for it.  I hunt for long pig.  They are easy to outsmart.  Easy to capture.

But, it takes patience.  It takes time.  I only take the mean ones. The ones that are not kind.

They come to me.  I pretend I am weak.  It works every time.

It is their fault.

They ask for it.  They shouldn't be bad.  They shouldn't hurt anyone. They shouldn't try to hurt me.  They picked the wrong chick.

They don't get away with it.  I make it right for those who were not able to.  I do it for them.  Now these long pigs will be chewed up by sharp teeth.  Digested by stomach acids... nothing will be left.

I make it quick. I don't let them suffer.  I am not like them.

Nobody notices.

Nobody cares.

They should be good, like me.


I am not like them.

Friday Scary Story, December 12, 2014

My bed is wet.

It is wet with blood.  I can smell it.  I think...  I can taste it.

My neck is sore.

I can barely turn my head.

I saw it in the mirror.  The bite marks.  Not just one, but many.  They are deep.  Perfect puncture marks in distinct patterns, like a decorated silk scarf wrapped around my throat.

I don't remember what happened.

I remember nothing.

My body aches.  It is on fire.  I opened the drapes, but the sun felt like a rasp tearing at my skin.  I made it as dark as I can.  No light. No sun.  Just black.

My bedroom is a mess.  I can't tell what is in there.  Who is in there. Nothing is moving.  There is no sound.

Be careful for what you wish for.  Beware of your yearning thoughts.

Vampires.

So beautiful.  So sexy.  Eternal.

The blood in the air smells like candy.



I need more.

Friday Scary Story, December 5, 2014

Dark spaces.

They are scary.

You never know what you will find.

Under my bed, it is dark.  Something lives there.  It has touched me.

I have tried everything to not let it, but it still happens.

It stopped for awhile.  It has been six years.  But, now it has started again.

For the last four nights, it has come all the way out.  I sleep with the light on.  I sleep with my feet tucked in.  I keep the blankets tight, but it still comes out.

It grabs onto me.  Then it pulls its self up.  It rests on top of me.  I won't open my eyes.  I don't want to see it.  It crushes me.  It is so heavy.  I feel like I am going to die.  I feel like it will take my breath away from me.

Before I pass out... it slides back down.  It slides away.

It never says a word.  It has no breath.

I wish it would stop.

I wish it would go away.

Friday Scary Story, November 28, 2014

I didn't remember what it was like to have two hands.  It had been so long.  You just get used to it.

I could not believe it when I got the call that it was going to happen. I was going to get a new hand.  They found the perfect match.

I imagined looking normal.  No more stares.  No more whispers.

I would be beautiful.  I would blend in.

Freedom.

It went well.  It took right away.  I am only a little bloated from the medicine that keeps my body from rejecting it.

It is a little bigger than my other hand.

It has been three months.  The doctors are impressed with my progress.  I am not so sure any more.

I asked them about what has been happening, but they don't listen.

No one is listening.  No one will hear me.

It moves.  It moves by itself.  Not a twitch.  A real movement, that I am not doing.

It does things.

It left me a message.  It said "Leave".  It wrote it.  It wrote it to me.

I don't want it any more.  I want it off.



I am free.

It is in the sink.  It won't talk to me anymore.  I am going to put it in the disposal.

I will shut it up forever.

Friday Scary Story, November 21, 2014

Severed parts.


I thought it was fake.

But, it's real.

Something fell and tangled in my hair.  It's a piece of an ear.  A person's ear.  A human's ear.  I don't know why...  I don't know where it came from...

I am on a hike.  All by myself.

Bad idea.

I didn't tell anyone where I was going.

Bad idea.

I don't know how long I have been standing here.  I can't move.  I see other parts mixed with the leaves on the ground.  They are all small. Someone is cutting them into cubes.

What do I do?

Run?

Where?  Which way?  I don't remember how I got here.  It all looks the same.

I was so stressed.  I wanted to get away from the world, from people.

Now, I wish I was smothered...  I wish I was squished by people...  I wish I was not alone.


The pieces don't smell.

They must be fresh.

Friday Scary Story, November 14, 2014

Spirits.

Entities.

Ghosts.

They look at us… to see if we look back.

If we do, it opens the door.  

An Ouija board is a way of letting us look at them.  It opens the door. 

My roommate bought the game.  My gut told me not to play.  It’s just a game, but I didn’t want to take a chance. 

Always listen to your gut.  Always listen to your gut. 

Last week the heart-shaped guiding piece fell on the ground.  Before I could think, I touched it.  I picked it up.  When I set it down on the board.  

It tugged.  

Listen to your gut…  Listen to your gut…

I moved it back, it tugged again. It wrote, “Hilf mir”.

I looked it up.  It means “Help me” in German.

It attached to me.  It was my own fault.  

It won’t leave.  It hangs on my back.  I can feel it. It whispers all the time.  

Some people look at it when I walk by them.  They don’t know why. 

But, it looks in their eyes.  

Listen to me…

Help me.

Friday Scary Story, November 7, 2014

Dead silence.

No sounds.  None.

It woke me.

I looked out.  Thick fog fills the sky, and covers the ground.  No one is there.  No movement.  Nothing.

My gut hurts.  It feels like a warning.

What happened?  What is happening?

I go out.  I stand in the middle of the street.  I try to figure it out.

The ground... I see it on the ground.  The houses have long thick dark drag marks coming from the front door, ending at the curb.  It looks like blood.

It smells like blood.  There are bits of flesh.

My gut hurts again.  It is telling me to run.

I vomit.

On my knees, my eye catches something in the fallen leaves of scarlet and brown.

It's a finger.  A small finger.  I put it in my pocket.   I can't leave it.  It can't be alone.


I don't want to be alone.


My body is moving further away from the safety of my home.

I can't stop it.

Friday Scary Story, October 31, 2014 Happy Halloween...

I went to the river, today.  I go there for clarity.

For insight.

For truth.

The river was churning, full of debris.  It's hidden treasures, released from the most recent storm.

I sat at the end of the dock.

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I saw a beautiful young women swimming around the many branches littering the water.  I watched her for awhile.

She turned to me, and waved.  I waved back.

She swam towards me.  Then, along side the dock.

She asked If I had seen her family.  She had gotten separated from them, and that they must be worried.

There was no one else around.

I told her I would help her.

I told her to take my hands.

She did.

She was so light when I pulled her out,  I fell backwards.

Embarrassed, I turned to her.  She was no longer the same.  Her long dark hair was mostly gone.  Just small patches on a few chunks of skin left.

Worms moved in and out of the holes, where her beautiful blue eyes had been.

There was only half a body.  The rest was gone.

After I wiped her skin from my hands, I covered her with my jacket.

I am afraid to move.

Friday Scary Story, October 24, 2014

It's finally quiet.

The banging has stopped.

If I move an inch...  He will escape.  He is so much stronger than me.

I am the only one here.  Everyone else is gone.

I am getting tired.  He is counting on that.

Think.  Think.  Think.

I thought he had forgotten about me.  That he had decided to leave me alone.

Puppets.

Some people think they are fun.  I don't know why.

He belonged to my grandmother.  She kept him locked up.   I wish I had never let him out.

One of his glass eyes is cracked down the middle.  But, I think he can still see.

I tricked him into the closet.  He's going to be angry.



I wish I was someone else...

Prologue and first chapter of my newest book Queeny, The Monster Maker

Prologue

The room was hazy.  Blue smoke drifted in the air.

The air felt moist.  It coated your skin.  It suffocated your pores.  

A single light bulb hung from a frayed electrical cord.  The bulb was tinged yellow from cigarette tar and nicotine.  A fly stuck to it.  It had flown too close. 

It desperately tried to free itself.  It could not.

A raspy, sinister whistling of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” swallowed the room’s silence.

Delicate hands sewed two thick, fleshy pieces of material together.  The needle was large.  The thread, a heavy fishing line.

The material was tough to sew.  It looked like skin.

The stitches were crude. 

When the sewing needle struggled to get free, the whistling stopped.

As the needle released, the hands began to sew again.

The whistling continued where it left off.

The next piece sewn onto the patchwork had hair on it, long human hair.

 Red

Decomposing bodies littered the ground in different stages of rot, and putrefaction.  Bodies propped here and there, some partially buried.  It looked like mannequin pieces littering a park.  The strong smell of death wound its way through the trees and brush.  Swarms of flies filled the air.  It was not a place of violence, nor a place of worship, but a place of study.  The study of body decomposition provided by volunteers who freely gave their bodies after death, for others to learn.  It was called the Body Farm.  

Red, a young man, poured over the information on his iPad.  He was studying the Body Farm at the University of Tennessee.  He had always wanted to study Forensic Science, but had changed careers when his father died.  It had been ten years since his father’s murder, and he had decided that it was time to move on.  It was time to start living for himself, instead of living to catch whoever killed his father.  He had joined the police force like his father, but for that purpose alone.  Now, it was time to let go.  He wanted to find a love, a sweet love, and start a family.  He wanted to be a dad, just like his own.

He lived in a small town, so it was hard to start over there for him.  He had applied to the University of Tennessee Forensic Program, and gotten accepted to start school in the fall.  He had been preparing his mind for the new adventure.  Learning to let go.  He had never lived away from his hometown. 

Being a kind soul, a gentle soul, sometimes hurt him.  He could be too trusting when it came to people.  His family used to joke that it was written all over him, and that he was a mark for women with hidden agendas.  Red had been seeing counselors since his father’s death, and had also been working on boundaries, especially when it came to females.

Red walked over to his closet, and opened the door.  Hanging on the wall before him, in a place of honor, was a small deep blue velvet cape.  His name was written across the back in big gold glitter letters.  It was a hero’s cape.  His mom made it for him on his fifth birthday.  He wore it, to fight monsters.  Red touched the glittery letters and smiled. 

He was ready for his new life.

You can find it here:

http://www.amazon.com/Linda-Scarlett/e/B009WU9DPM/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Friday Scary Story, October 17, 2014

I take the train eight times, every week.  It goes through a long underground tunnel.

A massive graveyard covers the hilltop above.

When it rains real hard, I wonder if water that passes over rotting bodies drips down over the train.

I don't want the water to touch me.  No offense to the dead, I just don't want their juices on me.

The last two weeks, as soon as the train enters the tunnel, I hear a child crying.  No one else seems to hear her.

After the first week, I figured she was dead.  

Sometimes... I hear the dead.

Sometimes... I see them.

She told me, she was looking for her hand.  She needed to be whole.  She had gathered all the other parts the man had cut off, but she couldn't find her hand.  There was no blood, but I could then see how the different parts of her where not put together as well as they could be.

I don't want this task, I don't want it at all.  My mother always said, "You can't help the gifts you were born with."

Tomorrow, I am going to see if I can find her hand.

Friday Scary Story, October 10, 2014

I think I need help.

Something is terribly wrong.

It started last night.

It started with a stupid saying people had when I was little.  They said, never look into the mirror and say "Mary Black" three times in a row.

Mary Black had been murdered a long time ago, for being a hideous serial killer.

I was so bored last night.  I couldn't sleep.  I was sick of the computer, and I hate T.V.

Brushing my teeth in front of the mirror,  reminded me of the childhood dare.

I felt foolish.

I repeated the words three times... Mary Black, Mary Black, Mary Black...

I stared hard into my pupils, daring something to happen.

It did.

The room darkened around me.  I didn't turn away.

I tried, but I couldn't stop what I was doing.

I felt nauseous.  My eyes were no longer mine.  They were the eyes of a monster.

My face looked like it was melting off my bones, my mouth dropped against my neck as if unhinged from my jaw.

I ran out of the bathroom, my jaw flapped against my body.  I grabbed it and held it shut.  I ran to my bed.  I covered myself, until the air became to hot to breathe.

Why did I do it?  Why did I do it?  Why?

I am not sure when I fell asleep.

I woke up a few hours ago.  My jaw is sore, I am afraid to open my mouth.


What would you do?

Friday Scary Story, October 3, 2014

Sometimes dreams feel real...

Sometimes I don't know if I am in one, or not...

Three days ago, I had a dream.  I was staring at an old abandoned farmhouse.  It was overcast and drizzly.

I was with two small children.  We needed shelter.

We stood there staring at the house.  I felt a presence was there.  I felt like something was watching us.

I had to check it out, before letting the children go too close.

I felt sick as I walked closer to the screen door.

I was afraid.

I could feel the entity.  It was trying to scare me away.

It was so strong.

My breathe was shallow.  I wanted to run.  But, I stared hard into the discolored screen.

I saw it.  It was a women, she was only a few inches away from my face.

She was a ghost.

I stared at her eyes.  They were so familiar.  They were the only thing that had color.

Suddenly, I felt like I was melting.  Heat was pouring over me.

I realized, her eyes were mine.

I was staring at me.

It's been three days since I believe I had a dream...

I am afraid to look in the mirror.

Friday Scary Story, September 26

Do you listen to your gut?

If it says run?  Do you run?

Sometimes I don't.



After work, I waited by the elevator.

It is the sixth floor.

From the corner of my eye, I see a dark object.  It glides over unnaturally, as if floating.

It is a man.

He is extremely thin, and tall.  He is so hunched over that he looks like a candy cane.

It is 100 degrees outside, and it is odd that he is heavily cloaked in black, and is wearing a wide brimmed black felt hat.

My intuition warnings are loud.  I feel very strongly that I should not get on the elevator with him.

I ignore my gut, and tell myself nothing will happen.

I get on.  My gut still hurts.

As we slowly hit floor four, he unkinks his body and stands straight and tall.  Directly facing me.  He stares me right in the eyes, and says, "I could get off on the fourth floor and jump off the building."

I do not move.  I do not respond.  I do not want to imprint on this man's mind, or being.

The elevator stops at floor three.  A woman get on and stands between us.  As she steps in, he shrinks back into his candy cane shape, hunched over and pathetic.

What would you do?

Every Friday... A scary story.

Every Friday... I am going to post a frightening experience.

All I ask, is that you tell me, what you would do?

Would you run?

Would you fight?

Would you freeze up and...


I look forward to tomorrow my friends.

Lady in the window...

Have you ever lived in a haunted house?

I have.

Has a ghost ever touched you?

One has touched me before.

Have you ever heard one speak to you?

I have.

I have heard one call my name.  Loud and clear.  It has been awhile, and I am glad for that.

But, sometimes... I wonder about them again.  And, this sick thing inside me is curious to see one again.  Smell one again.  Does this happen to you?

A house I visited in NW Portland, was haunted.  Everyone and everything that lived in it got sick.  Severely sick.  Deathly sick.  It was vacant at the time I was there.  I took a picture of the front of the house.

Later a friend asked, "Who is the lady looking out of the window?"

I told her it was vacant at the time, and I had just been inside.  There was no one there.

But...  In the picture... Staring out of the upstairs window was the face of a woman.

I can still see her.

I had to keep going there, but I never went alone.  And I never went upstairs again.

Scary Moment... What would you do?

Imagine waiting for a train after work.
 
It arrives and is packed full of people.  You wait for the next one.  It is packed too.

You get on.

The air is thick, and moist.  It smells.  You want to gag.

Arms and faces smash against you.  You try to find something to focus on, until you can get off.

As soon as you go underground, the lights dim.

You see a spot of calm.  It is a tiny spot with nothing moving.

It is a small, tiny woman.  She is sitting perfectly still.  She is perfectly dressed, in a navy blue suit with pearls and white gloves.

On her lap is a small square lunch box.

She opens it, and carefully picks out something to eat.  She holds it with both hands like a miniature corn on the cob.  It is red, It is dripping.

She eats it like a rat, nibbling from one end to the other.  Her mouth is now red.  It looks like blood.

She looks up.

She stops moving.  The woman stares right into your eyes, and smiles.  Her mouth is bloody.

You see what she has in her hands is the lower piece of a human jaw... and what looked like corn is human teeth...

What would you do?

My most recent ghost sighting...

My last ghost sighting was at the McMenemins Hotel at Edgefield, in Troutdale.

I will not go back again.

I went there for a company meeting.  I had never heard of the place before.

Driving in, I saw a beautiful old building.  I was excited, until I saw four old ladies in a window staring at me.

I could see they were ghosts.

I needed to get inside, so I just pushed the thought away.

In a hallway, I saw a picture on the wall.  It was the four old ladies in a line together.  They had all been dead for some time.

The ghost energy was thick.  It was all over.  It oozed out from the walls, it breathed on your neck.  The gardens are famous for how unusual the plants grow.  I believe they were fertilized with people ashes.  There was a crematorium there.

At lunch, I called a few people and told them to google the place and see what they found out.

It has a long history.

It has a dark history.

It is know to be haunted.  I wanted to leave.

At the end of the day, I went into one of the bathrooms.   I was alone in there.

The lights went off and on.

I said out loud, "I am not afraid of you!"

I felt this burst of energy.  I felt anger.  Then, the fire alarms throughout the place started going off, and doors automatically were shutting.

I ran out.  I am not going back there.

Ever.



Check out the history yourself.

http://www.mcmenamins.com/blog/2010/10/28/53-A-Blog-About-the-Ghost-Logs

First time I remember seeing a ghost.

I was about ten years old when it started.

I always slept with my bedroom door closed, and the lights off when I went to sleep.

I had no fear.

One night, I heard a soft, kind woman's voice.

I froze.

I could not understand the language she was speaking.  I looked to the end of my bed, and there was a women cloaked in black.  She continued speaking to me.

I remember, hiding under my covers, hoping she would go away.  But, she didn't.

I remember counting one... Two... Three and wanting to run out of my room.  But my body wouldn't move.

She kept talking to me.  The woman continued until I did get my body to work, and I ran as fast as I could to my mother.

The dark cloaked woman came back to visit me several times.

My mother, then taught me about how we see ghosts.

Have you ever seen a ghost?

Have you ever seen a ghost?

Have you ever felt someone watching you, and you are alone?

Have you ever smelled someone that has gone to the other side?

I have.

Tell me your story...

A great book to learn storytelling.

Storytelling is an art.

A book that has helped me learn the techniques of storytelling, is The Writer's Journey, by Christopher Vogler.  

I love writing.

I am so glad, I was brave enough to put my thoughts out to the World.  You have all been so wonderful and kind to me.  I appreciate all of you so much.

I am writing the second book of my Aggi trilogy.

Be brave my friends, speak your voices.  They are all so unique and so beautiful.

They are perfect.

Book review on my newest book, Queeny A Monster Maker. I am so honored...

I am so honored to have a wonderful review of my newest book!

Queeny,  A Monster Maker

It is very exciting!  The thoughts and feeling I was trying to express, came out in the story.


Please check out his website to read the review!

http://www.jaimeh.com/2014/08/26/book-review-queeny-a-monster-maker/


Thank you Jamie Writes!!!!

Writing lets me make a difference...

I believe it is important to give back.
 
I believe each of us can make a difference.

What if you knew of seven little bright minds who are just starting out in life.

The do not have much.  They are homeless.

What if by giving them a brown bag lunch,  they could go spend a day in a forest with an incredible teacher that loves her students.

The way I did it, was to donate healthy brown bag lunches so that a group of homeless children all under the age of six could spend a day in the forest.  I also gave them each a little notebook and a box of 24 crayons. (Future writers?)  They each received a gold badge for becoming an "Official Forest Explorer".

I can tell you what happens... These little kid's minds were filled with possibilities.  They made colored pictures of things they saw in the forest in their little spiral notebook.  They connected to something bigger than their daily struggles.

Thank you Ms. Meyers for allowing me to help, and for your dedicated love of children.

I am making her an official Member of the Aggi Network.

Thank you to http://libraryusergroup.com for featuring me as an author on their website! It is a great site to find books! They are fantastic!

This site is great for finding any book you could want.  I am very honored to be a featured author!

Link for PromoteHorror.com and Aggi

http://www.promotehorror.com/2014/02/aggi-her-dark-secrets.html


Here is the link for PromoteHorror.com and their promotion of my book!!!

Thank you PromoteHorror.com for promoting Aggi!!

I want to thank you to PromoteHorror.com for promoting my book Aggi on their website!  How exciting!  I am very grateful and honored.

Promoting yourself can feel very awkward.  Stay true to who you are.  I believe if we speak with truth and kindness, it will always be oaky.  It can be uncomfortable, but go out of your comfort zone and be heard.

Thank you...

My book is now available in print.  It is along side my ebook on Amazon.com.  I appreciate ebooks, but to hold a book in my hand is real to me.  I can feel the words.  It is an incredible feeling to have movies in your head, and them be able to share them.

Anyone out there that has a story to tell, tell it.

Please let me know when you do, so I can read it.

Thank you for your kind words, and letting me know that my book has moved you, and made a difference.

You are pure magic.