October 31, 2010

A Ghost Story: Halloween Guest Post...

Before I begin, I want to give some background on what Bloggerstock is and why I've hijacked Brahm's blog. I found out about Bloggerstock through 20sb.net (a great place for a beginning blogger, btw). Basically it's blog-swapping but on a big scale. It introduces you to tons of great blogs out there, some of which you would miss in the vastness of the net. If you want some exposure as well as some new things for your feed, check it out!

So this month we're supposed to write a ghost story (fiction or non) in honor of Halloween. I have to say that I came a bit short on this one. I waiting until the last minute because I wasn't exactly sure what to write.

Which is a bit sad, because I'm a writer.

Oh, and did I mention that paranormal/horror is one of my favorite genres?

So, with a bit of performance anxiety, here's my ghost story:

Do you remember yourself in middle school? Yeah, the dorky (or insert your particular descriptor here) one that sat in the corner and didn't say much, except to your circle of friends that was just as dorky as you? That was me, too.

We're all looking for something to set us apart at that age. Well, I had a pretty good thing that set me apart. I had a ghost. It was a friendly ghost, most of the time.

It would move things, make noises, you know, all the typical ghost things to kill the time. But sometimes it could be mean, too.

I'd wake up and my in-wall heating unit would be turned on, something flammable always near-by. It would tug at my friends coats and scarves, sometimes hard enough to make them gag. I would come home from school to find all the drawers in my dresser opened, my socks and underwear strewn across the room.

The breaking point came when I woke up to the smell of smoke one morning. A pile of socks had been made in front of the wall heater, and they were slowly turning black, melting and slowly burning.

I decided it was time to end it, since the ghost was trying to end me.

So while my parents were out of the house one day, I invited my friend over and we had a seance. We didn't really know what we were doing, because we were smack dab in the middle of the Bible belt, so Ouija boards were on short supply. So we lit a few candles, grabbed some paper and a marker.

We both put our hands on the marker, and started trying to "clear our minds" so the spirit could write out it's message to us. We weren't sure exactly what it meant to clear our minds, so I found myself just focusing on the flame of a candle in front of us. I slowly started to realize that the flickering was keeping time with the beat of my heart. It dawned on me that I could audibly hear the sound of my heart beating. The sound grew louder and louder in my ears.

I felt the muscles in my hand twitch. My friend looked up at me with scared eyes and dropped her hand away. Mine kept twitching, and I could feel the marker start to move in my hand.

"What do you want? What will make you go away?" I asked in a hushed voice.

My hand started moving back and forth with rapid movements. The marker making scratchy noises against the paper. After a few moments my hand stopped. Carefully I moved my hand away and we read what the spirit wanted.

"Pants for god's sake! It's cold here! Why do you think I kept turning the heater on!"

(insert drum rimshot here)

If you're tired of my lame jokes, check out what StarGazer has as her spooky story on my blog Cerebral Lunchbox. (And if you want to read a serious version of a ghost story from me, which I promise is much better, check out my Taking Liberty serial story).


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