Monday, May 2, 2016

The Refrigerator

Hello All:
I’ve always been fascinated by those peculiar, vivid and sometimes lucid dreams that we get just a few moments before waking up in the morning. I’ve actually turned some of these into stories. And today’s new story was an actual dream that I had a few mornings ago.
Dreams can often be used to help analyze the subconscious. But I’m afraid I have no answers for this one. I can only guess that it reveals a certain aversion towards socialism.
The Refrigerator 
It was a Sunday evening as my wife and I rolled the refrigerator out of the kitchen, through the main hallway, into the foyer and then out to the garage. From the garage, we struggled with guiding the small wheels of the refrigerator over the bump that separates the garage from the driveway. But once it was fully outside, it was easy to roll the refrigerator down the driveway and over to the parkway.
Now I really thought that dragging the large and bulky appliance across the lawn of the parkway would be next to impossible. But surprisingly it was quite easy to drag it over the curb and position it just right. My wife and I discussed earlier that day whether or not the doors of the refrigerator should face the street, or face our house. But we eventually decided that it would be safer to go outside for food without standing in the road. For this matter, the doors ended up facing our house.
At this point you are probably wondering why we had moved our refrigerator outside, and spent so much time positioning it just right in the parkway against the curb. And you are probably even more curious of this mention of going outside to the street for our food. Well, you see, after about a week's worth of careful planning, it was realized that the optimal location for our refrigerator wouldn't be in the kitchen, but outside near the street. For electricity, we simply plugged a long extension cord into an outlet of the garage, and unrolled it through the lawn and across the sidewalk to reach the refrigerator. It was that easy. And the refrigerator looked so nice sitting outside in the parkway near the curb.
For the first week, there weren't any problems with going outside if needing something from the refrigerator. If someone wanted some milk, they would bring the glass out to the street and pour some near the refrigerator. Eggs and bacon for breakfast? We would simply go out to the street and rummage through the refrigerator. And any leftovers from dinner would be carried out and stored in the refrigerator for future meals.
Now about those leftovers; it was late in the week—our second week of having the refrigerator outside—when my daughter accompanied me to the street side curb to gather up leftovers in the refrigerator from previous meals. Thursday nights are usually designated as leftover nights.
Halfway down the driveway, I saw something startling. "Whoa!" I exclaimed, and blocked my daughter with the back of my hand from walking any further. I pointed to my car. "Who is that underneath?”
Lying under my car was a strange black man who looked like he was homeless, or at the least spent much of his time out in the streets. He wore a stocking hat on his head, and had a scraggly beard. And he started back at me with his beady, black eyes. I wasn't supposed to see him. From the looks of it, he was up to no good. Maybe he was casing out the neighborhood with plans of burglary.
"Let's get back in the house!" I urged my daughter. We both ran inside, and I immediately reached for the phone to call the police. While doing so, I watched out the front room window and observed the strange, black man crawl out from under my car and scurry back to his own that was down the street. From what I could see, it was an old 1970s beater Cadillac with no license plate.
"Hello, yes, I would like to report some suspicious activity taking place in my neighborhood." I told the 911 dispatcher.
Within a minute, two squad cars sailed down the street and parked near the curb of my house, right where my refrigerator sat.
"Unfortunately, I couldn't get much of a description of the suspect or the vehicle." I told the officers. "He was just some black guy with scraggly beard and a stocking hat. He looked like someone who lived out in the streets. And he drove an old Cadillac that had dulled and faded maroon color."
"And you say he was lying under your car?" probed the officer.
"Yes." I affimed. “It looked like he was hiding.”
"And when did you first see him?"
"It was when my daughter and I came outside to the refrigerator to get dinner for the evening."
The officer said not a word, just continued writing. While this happened, the other officer walked around my car, probably looking for any evidence left behind from strange black man.
"Well..." began the officer after jotting down all the information. "At this point all we can do is keep an eye on the neighborhood. Give us a call if you see him again, or notice any suspicious activity in the neighborhood."
"Will do." I reassured the office. And as the two walked back to their squad cars, I dashed over to the refrigerator and called out, "Hey, want something to drink?" I pulled out two cans of Coca Cola.
Both officers shrugged their shoulders. "Sure, why not."
I handed the sodas to the officers. "Thanks for doing a great job in protecting our community."
***
A few days passed, and there weren't any further sightings of the strange black man who was hiding under my car. But there was something peculiar that we noticed. When going out to the curbside for breakfast in the morning, the inside of the refrigerator appeared messy and unorganized.
Then we started to notice that food was missing, "Now I know that I put that leftover pizza in here." I insisted to my wife. "And nobody else here ate it?"
"No..."
"No..."
"Wasn't me..."
Then came the morning that I discovered that one of the shelves in the refrigerator had fallen off the track and collapsed to the lower shelf. There were a couple of broken eggs at the bottom of the refrigerator, and something sticky had spilled over the bag off tossed salad.
"What the hell is going on?" I exclaimed. I nearly yelled at my kids. "Just because we put the refrigerator outside doesn't mean that you can now be messy. Come-on, kids! That's our food! Now we have to clean that mess up."
"But, Dad, I didn't go out there last night." sweared my daughter.
"Yeah, Dad, me neither."
"Well someone made that mess out there." I pointed. "And it wasn't me or your mother."
The only other explanation I could think of was that maybe the strange black man had returned to the neighborhood and was helping himself to our food at night while we slept. But I wasn't ready to jump to such a conclusion.
***
There came a Saturday when I happened to glance outside the front window and was shocked by a new disturbing sight. The strange black man had returned, and he brought with him a few friends. And they were all hiding under my car in the street.
"Son of a..." I exclaimed. Curious of what they were doing under my car, I dashed away to the closet for a pair of binoculars and returned. If a bunch of dirty street appearing people hiding under my car wasn't disturbing enough, I could now see through the binoculars that they were using drugs. Smoking crack cocaine and shooting up with heroin; these people were nothing more than a small group of drug addicts who camped under my car in a means to hide from the police so that they could use their drugs.
And that's not all that was happening! From under the car emerged a zombie-appearing, emaciated girl in a black t-shirt, shorts and a pair of leather boots. She had ultra-short blond hair and heavy dark under her eyes, probably from neglecting her health. She had infected needle tracks all up and down her arms, as well as burns all over her lips from—probably—a crack pipe. She opened our refrigerator and actually crawled inside of it. Yes, her entire body slithered and wedged itself into the refrigerator. She was thin enough to actually slip behind the shelves while browsing the selections of food.
I was outraged to see this, to say the least. I did not want a filthy drug addict with sores and burns all over her body—not to mention whatever diseases she might have had—crawling through my refrigerator and touching my food.
In horror I watched as she opened a Tupperware bowl of barbecued chicken and started to help herself. "No, not the barbecued chicken!" I cried out. "That's it, I'm calling the police. Enough is enough."
The windows of the house were not open that afternoon, so there would have been no way for them to hear me. It was as-if they could somehow sense or read my mind that I was calling the police. With phone in hand I watched in disbelief as about a half-dozen drug addicts hopped out from under my car and ran down the street to their own cars. The girl in the refrigerator, of course, followed. She, too, did not want to get busted.
"Yes, there is a group of people using drugs under my car. And they are stealing my food. You need to send the police!"
While stepping outside to wait for the police, I noticed that the drug addicts had pushed my refrigerator over, probably to punish me for calling the police. Spilled food now stretched across the road.
That wasn't very nice of them.

The End

Friday, April 22, 2016

The Slide Zone

Hello All:
If you're old enough to remember (and you would have to be really old) then you can recall a time when MTV used to air something called music videos. In fact, that's what MTV originally stood for: Music Television. These music videos would have been popular throughout the early to late 1980s. Yes, you would have to be old to remember them!
What is a music video?--a younger reader might ask?
A music video could have been described as a three-to-five minute short movie that was accompanied by some popular song by a well known artist--usually rock, pop, or rap. Sure, some of these music videos would simply be the artists performing before the camera. But most music videos aimed to really entertain the viewer by showing scenes and action. Sometimes the video would play for about thirty seconds to a minute as a scene unfolded before the music actually started.
I mention all of this because that's what came to mind when originally conceiving today's featured writing. It's based on an old, mostly unheard-of song from the late 1970s from a well-known artist. I'm going to leave the name of the song and the artist unmentioned for now. It will be revealed towards the end of the story. See if you can figure it out while reading it.
The particular song that inspired this story is unusual for the artist. Released in 1978, I believe they were experimenting with what would have considered the up and coming high tech, electro sound that would dominate much of the 1980s. The artist was mostly acoustic. Now they were integrating synthesizers, electronic sound effects, along with a higher than usual tempo.
In analyzing the lyrics I thought to myself, "Hmm... That's a really interesting story... That almost sounds like something that would happen to our friend, the Cableman." And there we have it! A short story about the Cableman put to music video.
Just a sidenote: at the end of the story I do include the You Tube video. In the first 30 seconds of the video there is the sound of crickets and some other noises. Just be patient. The music will begin after 30 seconds.
Have a great weekend!
The Slide Zone
The Cableman has had more than his share of strange experiences throughout his life. If you've come to know him in our series of short stories, then you certainly know all about it. And despite how strange they can get, these occurrences have been so common for the Cableman that he tends to forget most of them. Take for example that peculiar stranger that he met some years ago on a late night ride home from the airport. No, it wasn't a lady who he would end up going to bed with, which is a typical scenario for the Cableman. This was someone completely out of the ordinary who would catapult the Cableman into an unknown place.
As stated above, the occurrence took place some years ago after landing at the airport from a week-long job training seminar. The Cableman retrieved his luggage from the carousel, and then walked out to the taxi pickup area. Supposedly his boss arranged for the Cableman's transportation home. Sure enough, there was man standing out on the sidewalk with a large, handwritten sheet of paper that said, Cableman. Apparently this was the cabbie who would give him his ride home.
But what was this?
Much to the Cableman's surprise, it wasn't a taxi cab that he would be riding in. Rather it was a large, white limousine! Wasn't that nice of the boss to arrange for a stylish limo ride home from the airport? Maybe it would be complete with a couple bottles of beer from the cooler.
Then again, maybe the Cableman shouldn't have been so impressed, much less gotten his hopes up for a stylish, luxurious ride home. It would appear that the boss had taken advantage of some sort of share ride discount. Upon entering the backseat, there was an old man sitting there who briefly glanced over at the Cableman, and then resumed facing forward. What sort of cheapskate deal did the Cableman fall victim to?
One of the first things that the Cableman noticed was that the old man was wearing a torn coat. It was battered and shabby, looked to be made of the skin of some animal—perhaps suede or leather. And once the limousine had driven off from the pickup area of the airport, the Cableman glanced back over to the old man and noticed that his face was terribly worn. He had certainly experienced a considerable passage of time in the duration of his life.
Suddenly, the old man turned and faced the Cableman which revealed, for the first time, a pair of exceptionally clear eyes that for some reason suggested to the Cableman a certain level of awareness and superior wisdom.
"A river will always flow downhill." the old man suddenly said to the Cableman. "It's born out of a mass of water that becomes so great that it must move. Movement is always downhill for a river. A river will always start high up on a hill, or in the mountains. From there, it flows for a very long time—sometimes joining with other rivers—until finally reaching a lake or the ocean. This is where a river flows."
The Cableman was taken aback by the random piece of information suddenly given by the old man. And it was the first thing that the old man had said to the Cableman. Such a peculiar introduction.
"Interesting..." finally commented the Cableman. "I guess I never looked at it that way. Yes, you are right. Rivers always flow downhill and into a lake or ocean."
The old man smiled, nodded, and then resumed facing forward.
"I'm the Cableman." introduced the Cableman while extending his hand to shake.
But the old man said nothing in return. He simply kept his face forward while maintaining a stoned, blank expression.
The Cableman shrugged his shoulders, sat back in his seat and looked out the window of the limousine. Apparently the old man felt it was okay to dish out wisdom to people without extending common greetings and courtesy. He was, after all, an odd fellow. Maybe it was just some homeless guy who managed to get a free ride in a limousine for the evening.
Five minutes later, as the Cableman started to dose off, the old man suddenly announced, "Apple trees need honey bees to cross pollinate during the flowering season. This is crucial if the apple is to grow."
Startled, the Cableman turned to face him. Unsure of what to think, he simply agreed with the old man. "Yes, that's right. Bees are very important in growing fruits and vegetables."
Just like before; the old man smiled, nodded and resumed facing forward.
"Yeah, I just got back from a week long training seminar for my job." said the Cableman. "I have to admit that this sort of conversation is refreshing. It's nice not to have to hear about installing cable. That's what I do for living."
The old man said nothing in return.
"So where are you off to?" asked the Cableman. "Home, I assume."
The old man resumed his stoned, blank expression as if in some sort of trance. This went on for nearly a minute before he turned to face the Cableman to say, "There's an old stream that no one has ever heard of that has been dried up for many decades. Once upon a time, people would go there for its healing power. Some say that the gods have taken it away."
"Yeah?" asked the Cableman while beginning to conclude that the old man was crazy. "Is that where you are off to?—to find the magic stream that can heal people?"
"No..." answered the old man. "And you certainly are interested in where it is that I'm going. If you must know then I will tell you. I'm going to find a shooting star. It should be just around the bend up there. That's where they are."
With a somewhat amused look on his face, the Cableman gazed out the window and up the highway. "Oh, right... I know the bend you are talking about. It's sort of a fork in the road up there that—I think—leads to nothing but farm fields. I've never driven that way before. So you think there's going to be a shooting star?"
"Definitely!" firmly stated the old man.
Suddenly intrigued, the Cableman asked, "Can I come with you to see this shooting star? I'm sorry, but those are usually random occurrences that are almost impossible to predict. I want to see this shooting star of yours."
"Sure, I don't see why not." answered the old man. "I believe you are already going along for the ride. I think it's a quick detour we need to take before reaching your destination. If you want to get out of the limousine with me, then that's your choice."
"Hey driver!" called out the Cableman. "Are you listening to this? I want to get out wherever this guy is going to see his shooting star. You wouldn't mind waiting for a few minutes before taking me, would you?"
"Sure, I can wait." reassured the driver. "But are you sure you want to do that?—agree to finding this shooting star?"
"What do I've got to lose?" challenged the Cableman. "If this man says he's going to find a shooting star, I'm in with him."
The driver shrugged his shoulders, "Okay..."
The Cableman shouldn't have agreed to such a thing. For that was the very moment that marked the beginning of a most bizarre incident of non-ordinary reality. Just as the limousine turned onto the fork in the highway that leads to the bend and open farm field, the Cableman started to feel the strange sensation of gliding. Although triggering an unpleasant moment of apprehension, the Cableman attributed the unexplained gliding to some residual motion sickness brought on by riding the plane for some hours before landing.
Then the Cableman's ears suddenly plugged up. He could no longer hear anything; not the sound of air rushing against the side of the limousine or the sound of the engine. Instinctively, he wedged his pinky finger in one of the ear canals in an effort to dislodge some wax that might have gotten displaced from the altitude change during the plane ride. This didn't help anything.
"I can't hear!" shouted the Cableman in a panic. It was a like a bad dream in which he tried to talk but made no sound.
Suddenly, the Cableman found himself rising high above the ground with the sensation of a great wind rushing from every direction. Somehow the old man was before him in this strange, new reality. And despite the fact that the Cableman was deaf, he could hear the voice of the old man. He announced with a smile that lit across his face, "You will know this place."
Upon this suggestion, the Cableman looked down to some thousand feet below to where the farm fields were. There was something there that the Cableman knew. But he wasn't sure of what it was. He was actually more concerned with what has happening in that moment. I mean it's not every day one takes a limousine ride around a bend and is suddenly transported into new reality of gliding a thousand feet in the air with a stranger.
And then the Cableman began to fall. Whatever power that had raised him and the old man some thousand feet in the air had suddenly released them so that they began to fall and spiral back to the Earth.
"Help me! Please!" the Cableman screamed.
Almost immediately he heard music... or at least he initially perceived it as music. No, actually it was the sound of an ambulance siren. While pulling out of unconsciousness, the Cableman perceived the siren as music. He was now riding in the back of an ambulance.
"Sir, are you awake now?" probed the paramedic.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Much better!" answered the Cableman. "What happened?"
"Well, according to your limo driver, you were picked from the airport and started complaining about a gliding sensation. Then you passed out. It looks like you had an extreme episode of motion sickness accompanied by long term jet lag. Slipping through all those times zones, or slide zones as some people call them..."
"So I stepped into a slide zone?" inquired the Cableman. "The old man had me going through a time zone?"
"Yeah, something like that Sir." answered the paramedic.
***
Somehow, word of this incident had been picked up by the progressive English rock band, The Moody Blues. Such a strange occurrence to have happened to someone; they actually made a song about it. Yes, 'steppin in a slide zone' is all about that fateful night that the Cableman would rather forget.
Now I hear you, the reader, challenging this notion. "Wait a minute!" you might argue. "The Moody Blues made that song in 1978! The Cableman was just a wee lad in those days!"
Ah, but you see; the old man in this story made the Cableman step through a time zone which triggered a brief moment of time travel. This traversing of time manifested itself so that people way in the past actually heard about the Cableman’s experience.
If you've never heard the song, do give it a listen in this You Tube video. I think the Cableman's story would be better suiting for the music video, don't you? And for your convenience, the lyrics of 'steppin in a slide zone' have been printed below the video.


Steppin' In A Slide Zone by The Moody Blues
I took a ride in a limousine
I took a road I'd never been
I met a stranger by the way
His coat was torn but his eyes were clear

Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin' in a slide zone

He told me where a river flows
He showed me how the apple grows
He told me of a magic stream
His face was worn but his eyes were clear

Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin' in a slide zone
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin' through a time zone

He went to find a shooting star
Around the bend that's where they are
I went along just for the ride
Suddenly I began to glide

Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin' through a time zone

The air raced by there was no sound
We drifted high above the ground
And then said you know this place
And then a smile lit up his face

Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin' in a slide zone
Standing in a slide zone
I could be steppin' through a time zone

I turned my head and looked below
And there was something there I know
Suddenly I began to fall
I looked around and tried to call

Standing in a slide zone
He had me steppin' in a time zone
Standing in a slide zone
Falling through a time zone

Help me please I thought I said
Then something happened in my head
Music came from all around
And I knew what I had found

Standing in a slide zone
Falling through a time zone
Steppin' in a slide zone
He had me falling through a time zone

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

The Creepy Doll Closet

Hello All:
I have for you some vintage Barbie commercials to enjoy that provide a nice early stage evolution of the popular toy that girls have played with through the ages. Scroll down and check out the original Barbie commercial, the introduction to her friend Midge, and then the exciting release of the Twist and Turn Barbie. I believe the girl in the third commercial is the young Marcia Brady (Maureen McCormic) from the Brady Bunch.
Bud do you know what's so sad about the third commercial? Girls are encouraged to bring their old and unwanted Barbies in for the new "Twist and Turn" Barbie. Don't you feel sorry for the old ones?



What girl hasn't played with dolls? Oh, but there are people who have a phobia of dolls. If your child is afraid of dolls, here is a nice story to make him or her feel better.
The Creepy Doll Closet
Located on an intermediate level that separates the main floor of an old Victorian two story home from the second floor is an area that has been referred to as "then den", "the office", or the "rec room". Names for this intermediate level have been designated by the various families who have lived in that old Victorian two story throughout the many decades. You see; families move in and then move out some years later. And they do so out of their own will, not because of what some might immediate conclude to be a haunting. Old Victorian homes, after all, that have stood a century or more must surely be haunted, right?
Well this doesn't hold true for all historic homes—especially this one.
Oh, but there is one peculiar thing about this home to mention. It's on that intermediate level that we were just discussing in the above paragraph. There's a closet in the corner that is nearest the radiator that might have been intended to be used as storage. But over a hundred years ago it was considered ideal to be a small play area for a young girl who lived there. Outlined with a couple rows of wooden shelves, it was home to her prized collection of dolls that sat on them. A wool carpet had been fitted and laid on the floor so that the young girl could have a nice place to sit and play with her dolls. To this very day her collection remains in this closet. It's unclear as to why the original family had left the dolls there upon moving out. Perhaps they felt that the next family might have a young girl who would enjoy playing with them. Isn't that nice?
Strange you might comment?
Well it just so happens that the next family who moved in did have a young girl who was delighted to discover the closet full of dolls. She added her own collection of dolls that were received on birthdays, Christmas, or when Father would travel on business and bring back a doll as a gift. But eventually this young girl was too old to play with dolls, and the closet door remained shut for a number of years until her daughter was introduced to the dolls. And just like before, this new girl added her own collection to the doll closet and played with them in there. These were the happiest times for the dolls; to have a human play with them. Unfortunately, it was followed by some years or a few decades of being closed up in the dark until someone new would discover them.
And so this went on for many, many decades—over a century, actually. The collection of dolls accumulated and was passed down from child to child whether it be daughter, granddaughter, or a new girl who moved in. By the time that closet reached the modern age, it included newer Barbies, Brats and the likes.
Today there is a young girl who lives in that old Victorian two story home named Shelly. But unlike the girls who lived there before her, she wants nothing to do with the dolls. For her, the doll closet is used for punishment. You see, Shelly doesn't like the dolls in that closet. They're old, creepy, and give her an eerie feeling. Mother and Father usually find some way to integrate the creepy doll closet into dished out punishment. And with as much of a dreadful phobia that Shelly has of dolls, one would think that she would be on her best behavior.
Shelly tries her best to avoid punishment and is sure not to do anything wrong at home. But if she didn't know any better, the dolls can come to life and do all sorts of mischief just to frame her and get Mother and Father to punish her. And when Mother and Father punish Shelly...
Uh oh! It's about to happen again!
"Shelly!" Father yells up the stairs to his daughter. "Shelly, come down here!"
Shelly is in her bedroom and practicing her violin for an upcoming concert. And with the tone of her father's voice, she immediately gets nervous. What could it possibly be now?
"I'm coming!" yells Shelly as she scampers out of her bedroom, through the hallway and down the stairs. She passes the intermediate level; the office as Mother and Father have named it which contains a desk, and some file cabinets. And don't forget the creepy doll closet next to the radiator!
Shelly reaches the main level.
Father has a stern look on his face. "Now I'm only going to ask you this once, and I want an honest answer."
Shelly grows all the more worried. What did those blasted dolls do this time?
"Come in here!" orders Mother.
Shelly carefully enters the kitchen and sees Mother standing over a collection of items on the linoleum floor which had apparently fallen out of her purse.
"Do you know anything about this?" asks Mother.
"No!" answers Shelly.
"Well my purse was up on the counter a few minutes ago." explains Mother. "It was knocked on the floor, and my stuff came out of it."
"And don't forget the forty dollars!" reminds Father.
"I was getting to that!" snaps Mother. "Where is the money? You took money from my purse!"
"No I didn't!" defends Shelly. "I wouldn't do something like that! Why would I need money?"
"Bring it back right now!" demands Mother.
"Mom, I didn't take your money!" cries Shelly. "And I wasn't going through your purse! Why won't you believe me?"
"Well who would knock my purse over?" asks Mother.
"Yeah..." chimes in Father. "Do you think it was one of the dolls from the creepy doll closet?"
"Daddy, stop it!" snaps Shelly. "You know I don't like those dolls!"
For over five minutes, Mother continues to demand that Shelly return her money. In that time, poor Shelly is accused of being a little thief who would one day go to jail. Mother is terribly disappointed in her daughter for not only stealing but repeatedly lying. Unsure of what to do for the moment, Mother sends her daughter back upstairs to her room.
"She'll fess up eventually." promises Father with a mischievous smile on his face. He says this while Shelly storms her way over to the stairs.
"Daddy, what did you?" demands Shelly.
"You'll find out..." answers Father in a spooky, mysterious voice.
Outraged, Shelly stamps up the stairs. Apparently, Father sneaked away while Mother was scolding her, and did something that involved the dolls. Maybe he put her schoolbag in the creepy doll closet. Shelly would have to go in there to retrieve it if she wanted to do her homework. Or maybe he took a dozen or so dolls and scattered them on her bed. Shelly would be expected to put them away which, of course, would involve touching the old, creepy dolls while spending time in their musty closet. Oh, what sort of horrible thing did Father do this time?
Shelly enters her bedroom and doesn't initially see anything out of the ordinary. But then she discovers that the violin is missing.
"Daddy! Where is my violin!" shouts Shelly down the stairs.
"I'm pretty sure you know where it's at." answers Father in his spooky, mysterious tone of voice.
Mother chimes in, "And if you want to be ready for your concert, you better make sure you keep practicing."
Reluctantly, Shelly descends the staircase to the intermediate level. Cautiously she approaches the door to the creepy doll closet and opens it. She is immediately greeted by the musty old smell which would remind anyone of antique dolls. As for light, it is necessary to walk inside to the center and pull the chain so that the light bulb illuminates. You see; the creepy doll closet is about the size of a large walk-in closet. I suppose in olden times it could have been used as a small bedroom for, perhaps, a newborn. Instead, it was used as a play area so that girls could spend time with their dolls. How anyone would want to spend time in that closet and actually touch those dolls is beyond Shelly's comprehension. People must have been very strange way back then.
As Shelly scopes out the area for her violin, the dolls all stare back at her from the shelves and the floor where they sit against the walls. Who has her violin? Father brought it in here a few minutes ago and hid it underneath a group of dolls. Within a few seconds, Shelly sees her violin case being used as seat for about a dozen of dolls.
Shelly would never touch those hideous dolls! She uses her foot, and kicks them out of the way so that she can finally reach the violin. While lifting it off the floor, Shelly hears the most dreadful sound; the closet door slamming shut!
Shelly lets out bloodcurdling screams while dashing over to the door with violin case in hand. But the violin was the least of her worries. You see; the doorknob would not turn. Mother or Father was on the other side and gripped the knob so that Shelly could not get out.
"Daddy! Let me out!" screams Shelly while pounding and desperately pulling at the doorknob. "Please let me out!"
"The money..." answers Mother. "As soon as you tell us where the money is, we'll let you out.”
"I didn't steal your money!" cries Shelly. "You have to let me out of here! Please let me out!"
"Not until you tell us where you hid the money." reminds Father in his spooky, mysterious voice.
Just then, Shelly sees something out of the corner of her eye. It looks like one of the dolls jumping off the shelf and onto the floor. Startled and still crying, she looks over. And there on the floor is an old doll with a pair of twenty dollar bills lying nearby. It's just as Shelly suspects; the dolls had been in Mother's purse and took her money so that Shelly would be blamed.
"The money is in here!" shouts Shelly. "Please let me out!"
With that, the door to the closet is partly opened. Father peaks his head in. "Where is it?” he asks.
"Shelly points over to the doll with the money lying nearby."
"Oh..." exclaims Father in his spooky, mysterious voice. "So one of the dolls went through your mother's purse and took the money. Then she brought it back in here to the creepy doll closet."
Mother slips into the closet and snatches up her money. "We're not done in here!" she declares. "You're not getting off Scott-free after taking my money. As punishment, you can stay in here for the next half hour and practice your violin with the door shut."
"Mommy, no!"cries Shelly. "I didn't take your money!"
"I'll tag another half hour onto that for lying." warns Mother.
Defeated, all Shelly could do was cry. She hates those stupid dolls. Even more, she hates the way Mother and Father never believe her. She cries all the more once Mother exits the closet and closes the door behind her.
"Stop your crying!" yells Mother. "And start practicing your violin!"
Shelly kneels down and opens her violin case. Then she screams upon discovering that Father had placed one of the dolls in there before hiding it.
"What's wrong?" asks Father through the door with his spooky, mysterious voice. "Was there a creepy doll in your violin case?"
Shelly ignores him. Instead of answering, she smacks the doll out of the case and picks up her violin with bow. Then she starts playing.
Now in that half hour, something strange happens in the closet. No, the dolls don't come to life and torment Shelly. Rather, they remain motionless with eyes fixed on her, seemingly admiring Shelly's ability to play such beautiful music on the violin. They seem to really like Shelly; seem to wish that she would be their friend and play with them.
***
Later that night, Shelly sleeps soundly in bed. But she is startled out of her sleep about a minute to midnight from the sound of an eerie music box that plays on her bedroom floor. Being that Shelly plays the violin, she is familiar with classical pieces and recognized the song coming from the music box. It is Nocturne—opus nine, number two from Chopin. Very frightened, but at the same time curious, Shelly carefully looks down towards the floor that receives just enough illumination from a nearby nightlight. And there in the middle of the room is one of the creepy, old dolls sitting next to a music box. Shelly recognizes this box as being the one that sits on one of the shelves in the creepy doll closet.
The doll misses the days of many decades ago of when a little girl used to dress her up like a ballerina, and help her dance to the music that came from the music box. Couldn't Shelly do the same with her now? She is, after all, a talented musician and surely has an appreciation for the fine arts.
But Shelly screams in horror at the sight, and runs out of the bedroom.
"What's wrong?" asks Father. "Did one of the creepy dolls come out of the closet to play with you?"
To be continued…?





Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Ides of March

Hello All:
Happy Ides of March! Today observes the tragic (or joyful) day when Julius Caesar was assassinated in Rome. But the Ides of March wasn't always such a dreaded day to beware of.
Ides of March
The ancient Roman's had a peculiar way of observing the days of the months. Due to the cycle of the moon, there were three significant times of the month: the Kalends (the first of the month). the Nones (somewhere between the 5th through 7th), and the Ides (somewhere between the 13th through the 15th). It's important to understand that where-as our modern-day calendar counts the days as 1-31, the ancient Roman calendar started a month (after the Kalends) with how many days were remaining until the Ides; afterwards, how many days remaining until the Nones. When scheduling an event for the month, people would consider these three important phases of Kalends, Nones and Ides. If an appointment were to be made--say--on the Ides of May, people would understand that there were x-amount of days remaining for that appointment.
As for poor Julius Caesar, his days remaining were certainly numbered and counted in March. I suppose those who plotted his assassination counted down the days until the Ides.
So beware the Ides of March!

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Planet Caravan

Hello All:
I’ve recently added a song to one of my playlists on Spotify. This playlist of mine has nearly six hundred hand-picked songs that could easily fit under the genres of electronica, new age, ambient, space music and the likes.
And what song did I add?
Have you ever heard of the song, Planet Caravan, from Black Sabbath?
Now I know what you are saying. “Black Sabbath??? That’s a 1970s hard rock band! How does that fit the genres of electronica, new age, ambient, space music and the likes?”
Well, have you ever heard the song, Planet Caravan? Slowed down and mellow with an etheric, hypnotic, trancey feel; the song is definitely a great fit for those who enjoy the genres of electronica, new age, ambient, space music, etc. Created in 1970, the song was seriously ahead of its time.
Although Black Sabbath band member, Geezer Butler, has publicly stated that the song is about floating through the universe with your lover; many people who appreciate this song have often found themselves intrigued with a place that they believe is Planet Caravan. If you listen to the way the lyrics are sung, it vaguely reminds your of some ancient, Native American prayer than encourages you to project your consciousness outwards to a mystical place. That place is Planet Caravan.
Give the song a listen if you’ve never heard it. I provide the You Tube video below. I give Planet Caravan five stars. You need to add it to your collection!
Check out Planet Caravan from Black Sabbath:
 I've never been able to understand the cover artwork to Paranoid. Is that supposed to be the god of war, Mars?
Planet Caravan
In the ancient world, it was understood there to be twelve planets. Gods—or perhaps extra terrestrial visitors—would have communicated this to ancient people whether it be through visions or face-to-face encounters. And with this revelation, the ancient understanding of our solar system was represented with a circuit of evenly-spaced twelve circles that might remind a modern-day person of a clock. But you see, ancient people were not aware of which planets were designated as the twelve. They knew of seven "sacred planets"; in their order: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Mercury, Sun and the Moon. Planets such as Neptune and Uranus were undiscoverable in ancient times. And ancient people certainly weren't aware of the debatable Pluto, either.
To make up for the unknown five planets which had been revealed by the gods; the matrix which represented our solar system placed Saturn at the twelve and six o'clock positions; the Moon and the Sun at the three and nine o'clock positions, respectively. Mercury, Mars Jupiter and Venus were then listed twice on this matrix of twelve planets. It's been theorized that the order of these circles is based on a perception of a geo-centric universe in which we observe the planets rising and falling throughout the months and years.

Fast-forward through the ages; eventually it was understood and agreed that we live in a Sun-centered universe in which the planets orbit the sun—Earth being one of these planets. Just about everyone in the world, today, believe this. But there are people (including myself, and maybe you) who still wonder of these three mysterious planets that have yet to be discovered.
There are two hypothetical planets which can immediately be inserted into these slots of mystery:
1.      Nibiru: Home of the Nephilim sentient beings; this planet is theorized to be on a peculiar orbit in which it passes very close to Earth every 3600 years. Nibiru is Sumerian for "twelfth planet".
2.      Vulcan: No, not a planet named in honor of Mr. Spock from Star Trek! Vulcan was actually proposed in the nineteenth century by a French mathematician named Urbain Le Verrier. He was asked to help explain the strange orbit of Mercury. Vulcan, he theorized, influences the orbit of Mercury as it crosses the path of Mercury while closely orbiting the sun. In this right, Vulcan has been dubbed as the "intra-Mercurial planet".
Nibiru and Vulcan only account for the first and the second unknown planets of our solar system. So what undiscovered object in our solar system can be assigned to the third? Well, believe it or not; credit to the third proposed planet rightfully goes to the 1970s British rock band, Black Sabbath. The third song in their ground-breaking album, Paranoid, is a mysterious and very-trippy work titled, Planet Caravan. The band says that the song is about floating through the universe with one's lover, and the lyrics can certainly hint to this. But those who enjoy this song can't help but wonder if there are subliminal references to visiting another place... perhaps another planet. The treble and vibrato effects of the lyrics are certainly noteworthy. But pay close attention to the way the singing style feels. It almost leaves the listener wondering if he or she is being exposed to an ancient Native American prayer in which our consciousness is being encouraged to project outwards to a mystical place. Might this place be Planet Caravan? There are many who agree that they have visited Planet Caravan on more than one occasion.
Planet Caravan is hypothetical, and scientists are still in the early stages of establishing its whereabouts in the solar system. There have been suggestions that Planet Caravan is close to the Earth; and could very well be a minor planet.
The Twelve Planets of Our Solar System (in their order from the sun):
1.      Vulcan
2.      Mercury
3.      Venus
4.      Earth
5.      Caravan
6.      Mars
7.      Jupiter
8.      Saturn
9.      Uranus
10.   Neptune
11.   Pluto
12.   Nibiru


Friday, January 29, 2016

Live Alien Abduction on the Evening News

Hello All:
I had a bizarre dream on Wednesday night about a family alien abduction. It was so bizarre that I though I should make a story about it. And so, today's featured writing is a detailed account of that strange dream. Enjoy!
Have a great weekend! And if you see a bright light outside your front door, don't open it.

Live Alien Abduction on the Evening News
It was supposed to be the night of a special, never-seen-before meteor shower. Astronomers theorized that two colliding asteroids in Earth's usual path of orbit (when Earth wasn't in that location, of course!) had resulted in countless fragments of shattered space matter.
And this is what the weather anchor, Steve Sodaman, reported to the much-intrigued city and surrounding suburbs after presenting the nightly weather forecast.  It was the 10:00 edition. "Now astronomers say that this will be an absolutely fantastic meteor shower.” he explained. “It's supposed to be unlike anything people have seen before! The sky will be lit up for hours..."
Just then, one of the news anchors interrupted, "Steve, you might want us to click over to the other screen. We've got a caller who claims to have some amazing, live video footage of the meteor shower."
"Let's see it!" agreed the weather anchor.
The entire city and surrounding suburbs watched as the screen switched over from the weather anchor's presentation, to what appeared to be the broadcasted web cam from someone's cell phone. But it wasn't a view of the sky. Rather, it was simply the view of someone's front door—taken from inside a home—with a brilliant, red light shining through the plate glass from above.
"And we have them on the phone, too." informed the news anchor. "You can talk to them."
"Hello?" called out Steve Sodaman.
The caller's voice (a woman) could be heard through the broadcasted receiver of a phone. "Yes, I thought I should share this video with you. It's live. It's a terribly bright, red light that is shining through our front door. See the large plate glass, above?"
"Yes, we see that." confirmed the weather anchor. "From what we see on the screen, it looks like enormous lava light. The red color has swirling, globs of color to it."
"Exactly!" agreed the caller. "We're wondering if this is what we are supposed to be seeing."
"Well are you sure that's actually from the meteor shower?" asked the weather anchor. "That looks like a decorative light outside on your front porch."
One of the news anchors interrupted and asked the caller, "Did you go outside to see what it is?"
"We can't!" answered the caller. "We're afraid to go out there."
"Afraid to go out there?" exclaimed the weather anchor, Steve Sodaman. "Just open your door so we can see what it is. I'm curious."
"Yeah, I think we all are." chimed in one of the news anchors, Laurie Sandcastle. "And the same goes for everyone else watching in this city."
"We're actually afraid that something is out there with it." informed the caller. "We think there is some intelligent presence beyond our comprehension that is trying to get our attention."
"Wow!" exclaimed the other news anchors. "Like what?"
"Well don't be afraid." reassured weather anchor, Steve Sodaman. "You've got the whole city with you right now. We are broadcasting your live video."
The caller sighed and then spoke to another person who was apparently her husband. "They want us to open door and see what it is." Some arguing could be heard before she returned to speaking to the newscast. "Okay, we're going to open the door."
The phone was set on a nearby table in the family room with camera lense facing the foyer so that the whole world could watch the family—a husband, wife and three kids—approach and open the front door.
As the front door opened, a blinding red light nearly exploded through the foyer and family room. It was so bright, that it flooded the phone's light detectors. This triggered the automated light adjust so that video could still be detected. While this occurred, all those who watched the news broadcast that evening heard bloodcurdling screams from the family.
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the weather anchor, Steve Sodaman. "What could possibly be happening?"
The phone's camera gradually adjusted the light exposure so that identifiable video footage returned. The whole city watched as the trailing bodies of family members ran for dear life to some other area of the home. Seconds later, a mysterious cable (or hose) floated its way through the front door. It was apparently very long and stretched to the outside world from wherever it had come.
"This is very bizarre." commented news anchors, Laurie Sandcastle. The camera switched over to her as she announced to the city's millions of viewers. "Ladies and Gentleman, we originally accepted live video footage of the meteor shower from a caller. But the live video has evolved into something bizarre. It would appear that a mysterious force has penetrated a home and has the family terrified. We'll continue broadcasting this video as time permits."
The whole world continued to watch as the bright light from outside the door continued to shine through the home. Additional wires and hoses floated inside and towards the area where the family was presumed to be.
"Hello?" called out the voice of a little girl.
"Yes who is this?" answered weather anchor, Steve Meteor.
"This is Allison. I live here with my Mommy and Daddy."
"What's going on right now?" asked the Steve Sodaman. "Is someone in your home?"
"We can't see them." answered little Allison. "There's a big, floating house outside with bright lights on it."
"Like a space ship?" suggested one of the news anchors.
"Yeah..." answered little Allison.
"And did the people on this space ship come in your home?" further probed the news anchor.
"We can't see them. They move too fast" explained little Allison.
Suddenly, bloodcurdling screaming could be heard from one of the rooms. "Stop it! Go away! Leave us alone!"
"Who is that?" asked the news anchor.
Allison sounded so sad, "It's my Mommy. She wants them to go away."
"Awe..."
"Awe..."
"Awe..."
The news and weather anchors all exclaimed sadness together.
Just then, a lighted object with peculiar writing that was attached to one of the hoses floated in through the door. It was difficult to make out what is said. Most people watching the video assumed that it was too fuzzy to be seen clearly.
"Something just floated in through the family home." announced weather anchor, Steve Meteor. Like Laurie said a few minutes ago, we were watching what was supposed to be live video footage of tonight's meteor shower, but it's turned into what appears to be a family alien abduction."
Steve Meteor then asked the little Allison, "Do you know what that thing is that just floated in with the hoses."
"It's a sign, "answered Allison. "It has writing on it."
"Do you know what the sign says?" asked the weather anchor.
"No, it has strange writing on it." answered Allison. "I think it says that medicine is going to be used for the surgery. It's the name of the medicine, and it's inside the sign.
"Surgery???" shouted news anchor, Laurie Sandcastle. "They're doing surgery on all of you?"
"Yeah..." answered little Allison. "That's why Mommy was so upset. The surgery hurts and makes all of us sick."
Screams from the other end of the house suddenly turned softer and softer. Whatever the aliens were doing to the family, it caused them to grow weak—maybe unconscious.
"I have to go now." informed little Allison. "It's my turn for surgery."
***
And that's what was reported during the 10:00 news on a night of a meteor shower.



Friday, December 11, 2015

You Shouldn’t Play with Hieroglyphs


You Shouldn’t Play with Hieroglyphs
Originally majoring in anthropology, I focused my degree on Egyptology and Egyptian hieroglyphs. It's an interest I've had since I was a boy when given an ancient Egyptian scarab one year for Christmas. I examined the strange pictures on the bottom of the scarab while wondering what they all meant.
“Nobody knows!” was Mother and Father’s answer.
So I made it my life goal to solve the mystery of the scarab. I fancy myself as a modern day Jean Francois Champollion; the pioneer who deciphered the once undecipherable ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs.
After completing my degree, it was time to turn my studies into a career; but I found out that work as an Egyptologist was far and few between. The only job available at the museum was to pre-rinse the cafeteria pans before loading them in the dishwasher. It was a job that at the time only paid $6.50 per hour. If they opportunity presented itself, eventually I could work my way into maintenance and actually build the displays that showcase ancient instruments and mummies. But it still wouldn't pay very well. Currently I am thinking of turning my attentions towards teaching.
I have a friend who takes an interest in strange things, along with a morbid fascination with the macabre. His home is decorated with frightful things. Among his decor is a native-American mummy hanging over the staircase in his home. He somehow purchased it from an archaeological dig that had been done out in Arizona where a collection of perfectly mummified corpses were preserved in the dry, desert sands.
Anyway, I visited him one afternoon when he and his wife had complained about these strange, paranormal activities happening around the home. It got so bad that they hired a paranormal investigator to come in the home and provide some answers. Nothing out of the ordinary was found.
After hearing their stories, I finally commented and asked if they thought maybe removing the damned corpse from the ceiling of their staircase (which overlooked the family room) would improve things. I pointed out that people with a fascination of the macabre tend to attract strange things like hauntings. But my friend didn't think the mummy or frightful objects had anything to do with the paranormal activities in his home!
My friend soon cracked open a bottle of gin, and we had a few shots while watching TV. Just then, the Antique Road Show came on. I asked my friend if he ever thought his collection of frightful objects could be sold for money. In particular, I asked if he ever checked what the price of his mummy could bring. At that very moment, we mutually decided to bring it to the Antique Road Show! It was the craziest idea. But what made it so pursuable was the fact that the Antique Road Show was coming to Chicago, soon! We all agreed to take the mummy down from the ceiling and place it in a wooden box to bring in for an antique appraiser to examine on the show.
Now the mummy itself doesn't weigh very much. I believe the corpse is that of a child and couldn't weigh more than 60 pounds. But the wooden box with 60 pounds of mummy made it heavier. Packaging such an item is no easy task either. You wonder if it will hold up and withstand possible shifting while in the box.
On the morning of the appearance of the Antique Road Show we started to think that our plan was a bad idea. Fortunately, my friend brought along his bottle of gin and we all had a few shots before getting out of the truck and carrying the box into the building.
We never made it to an appraiser, but the mummy sure caused a scene! You see, there was a long line of people bringing in boxes and suitcases of their antique junk which needed to be inspected by security. When it was finally our turn, we were asked of the contents of the box in which my friend had replied that it was the 10,000 year old mummy of a native American child dug up in the Arizona desert. The box was opened and the security guard's jaw dropped!
Screams could be heard from people. Some crazy lady kept yelling that we had a mummy in the box and that it was so ugly. The security guard sternly told us that we could not bring something like that in the building and ordered us to remove it from the premises.
I really hoped I could solve the problem of my friend's paranormal activities by having the mummy sold; but after the incident, it continues to be hung over the staircase of their home.