Going into Battle with ...

I have two of nephews living with me (who I refer to as my boys). One is Cory AKA SMC (snickering male child),, and the other is Patrick, my army veteran. The other day I was minding my on business in my studio when I heard a high pitched scream of terror and a crash coming from the Dark Zone (the other end of the house where they reside.). Normally I would not venture into the Dark Zone except to talk briefly with them or to get them up and only if I take a big stick with me in case something reaches out of the darkness to grab me. However, concern for Patrick (as Cory was out of town at the time) sent me sprinting into the blackness. Flinging open his door expecting God only knows what that would make an ex soldier scream like a little girl I saw something that shocked me.

Patrick was backed against the wall, shit kicker boots on, hands encased in heavy work gloves, a rolled up magazine in one hand and a blow torch in the other, wild eyed and breathing hard.

Okay, wth?

"It's in here! I'm going to kill that f*****. It's out to get me!"

Apparently, this crawled out of his closest...



Did I mention that Patrick is terrified of spiders?

"Okay, Patrick. Please, don't burn the house down." I calmly closed the door and retreated from the Dark Zone, before the eight legged freak came looking for me. I hate them, too.

Ghost Adventures Wannabes-A Halloween Story

Emma looked up from her Ghost Hunters live show to see her three boys-Mutt and Jeff and little brother, Stumpy- lined up beside the couch. It was seven o’clock on Halloween Night.
“Mom, do you have an old radio we could borrow?” Mutt, the eldest asked.
“In my closet on the top shelf. Why?”
“We need a ghost box.” Jeff, the middle one, answered.
She watched as all three went to her room then trooped back through to the front door. She noticed all three were in head to toe black.
“Where are you going?”
“To the old mill to look for ghost.” Stumpy grinned excitedly.
Emma stared.
“Oookay. Be back before ten.”
“What? That won’t give us much time to find a ghost. Ghost Adventures are there all night.” Jeff argued.
“Ten. And watch out for snakes!” She shouted as the boys stomped out the door muttering under their collective breaths.
Outside they quickly began arguing.
“I’m lead investigator.” Jeff stated.
“No, I am! I’m the oldest.”
“So.”
“Why can’t I be?” Stumpy asked.
“Because you’re the youngest. You can be my helper and Mutt can be the tech guy.”
“Why do I have to be the tech guy?”
“Because you are the one with the video camera.” Jeff said.
“I want to be the tech guy!” Stumpy whined.
Jeff handed him the radio.
“You can try to get the ghost to talk through this.” He held out an old tape recorder they had found in the attic. “I’ll do the recording.”
“I still don’t see why I can’t be lead investigator.” Mutt muttered.
Jeff showed them his phone.
“Because I’m the one with the EMF app on my phone. Besides, I’m cooler and look better on camera.”
By that time they had reached the old mill.
“Are you sure there is ghost here?” Mutt asked Jeff.
“Has to be. It’s old, right?”
They stood in front of the awning dark door.
“Well, go on in, Jeff. You’re the lead investigator.”
Jeff reconsidered his stance, but since he didn’t want to look like a sissy in front of his brothers, he pulled out his flashlight and advanced into the room beyond, Mutt and Stumpy close behind.
The room was dark and full on cobwebs and dust. Jeff hoped there were no spiders there because he was afraid of them. He didn’t think it was warm enough for snakes. He lead the others to the middle of the room.
“Let’s start here. Start recording, Mutt.” He held out his phone with one hand and the recorder with the other. “Is there anyone here that wants to talk to us?”
They waited in apprehensive silence, almost afraid they would get an answer. But they only heard their own breathing. They went around the room asking them same question for a few minutes, but still heard nothing, till..
“What was that?” Stumpy asked.
They stood still and listened. Finally they heard a rustling near them. They tiptoed up to the sound and was just up on it when their cat, Fluffy, jumped out. With a scream the three boys fell back. Fluffy gave them an disdainful look and ran off.
“Let try the ghost box.” Jeff said.
Stumpy turned on the radio. Loud static burst forth.
“Turn it down!”
After the noise level went down, Jeff, trying to act cool like Zak Bagan, asked,
“Anyone want to talk to us? You can use this box to talk to us.”
Static filled the room for several minutes.
“Was that something?” Mutt asked.
“I didn’t heart anything.” Stumpy replied.
“I thought I heard some words.”
“Well, I didn’t and I’m holding it.”
“You to keep yakking and we won’t be able to hear anything.” Jeff punched Mutt’s arm.
“Watch it! You’ll make me drop Mom’s camera.”
Stumpy turned off the radio.
“I’m hungry. Are we going to be here much longer?” he complained.
“Real ghost hunters don’t get hungry before they find a ghost.” Jeff teased.
“Well, I don’t think there one here and I’m bored. I want to go home now.”
“We haven’t been here that long. We should stay a little longer.”
Suddenly they heard a knock above them. All three froze.
“Can you do that again?” Jeff asked.
Another knock sounded. Jeff gave his brothers an I Told You So grin.
“It’s up stairs. We should go look.” He said.
They turned to stare at the dark staircase leading to the upper floor.
“No way, dude!” Stumpy backed away. “I’m not going up there.”
Jeff looked at Mutt.
“You’re the oldest. Go on. Keep the camera on.”
“Uh uh. You’re the “Lead Investigator.” He shoved the camera at Jeff. “You go.”
Jeff took the camera and started for the stairs. He would show them he wasn’t afraid. He stopped at the bottom and looked back at them. Then back at the dark leading up to the top.
“Maybe we should all go together. Safety in numbers and all that.” He looked at them. “Come on! Go with me. Or are you chickens?”
That was the magic words. Mutt and Stumpy moved in behind Jeff and they began to climb the stairs. Just as they made it halfway they heard a deep growl come from the darkness above them. Stumpy let out a scream, dropped the radio, and bolted for the door. Another omniness growl sent Jeff nearly knocking Mutt down in his haste to make it to the door as well, Mutt on his heels. They could hear Stumpy still screaming as he raced home.
Emma looked up from her show as Stumpy came slamming into the house screaming that something was going to get him. He ran up the stairs and she heard his bedroom door slam. Seconds later Mutt and Jeff raced through the front door, out of breath and pale.
“Well, did you find any ghost?”
Jeff tried to play it cool.
“Maybe there is something there in that old mill.” Jeff shrugged and went to his room.
“But I’m not going to go back to find out.” Mutt declared as he went to his own room, slamming the door behind him.
Emma continued to watch tv, then turned to share a grin with her husband as he came silently through the back door.
“Happy Halloween, Honey.” He chuckled.

Leave a comment and you may win a giftie. Next week I will be picking three winners using a random generator to win something special. But I like suprises so I won't say what. :)

To see more of this Halloween blog party visit A Franiful Twist.

Happy Halloween!

My Furry Sons are 14!

Today is my babies 14th birthday! That is 98 to us humans. They awfully old and not as limber and fast, but they still sweet and can get into things to irritate mom. They really aren't brothers.










I got Barnabas in NC from my uncle. He is so named because the little brat bit me when I reached to pick him up. I named him for Barnabas Collins from the Dark Shadows series (the old one). He's a grouchy old cat who demands the best right then. If he does not get it my art supplies are goners. Everything ends up in the floor and my canvas are used for scratching post. Good thing he's declawed.

Nikademos came from the Virginia side of Bristol. A lady I met in passing at a local restaurant said she had a black kitten she wanted to find a home for. I love black cats so I went to her house and fell in love with the little thing. He was the runt of the litter, nothing but ears and and a nose. He turned out to be the sweetest cat I had ever owned. He talks to me (he's very vocal), and purrs all the time, and wants to meet everyone who comes in my door. He was named for a character in a book I was reading at the time.

I only later realized that both names are also in the Bible.

Easter Morning

I awoken this morning to silence. Both nephews and the cats were all still asleep. The neighbors were probably still sleeping off last night's party run. I was just warm enough to be drowsy. I had no place to go and not really anything to do for a change so I just laid there, reluctant to get up. I wanted to enjoy the quiet.

Then, into that silence, came one sound. One pure note of bird song. I'm not quit sure what bird, but it was a beautiful sound. A song of joy, of life, in celebration of a new morning, a promise of a sunny warm day. As I laid there listening to it's song I realized that today was Easter.

I thought of Easters past. The fun of my childhood on this day. Of me and my siplings finding Easter baskets waiting for us full of candy and toys. Of egg hunts, church services, and family dinners. It was only as an adult that I think back and wonder at my mother finding a way to get us those baskets because there was never really alot of money back then. Our holiday dinners were never big elaborate deals. And I can remember only once getting a new Easter dress thanks to my grandparents. I never understood the need for new clothes to wear to Easter services.

I think that the best thing I remembered about Easter was coloring eggs, of finding new unique colors combinations. Of playing with the dyes and making a really big mess in the kitchen. As my nephews grew up and I began helping them color eggs they of course got new things to play with -glitter, stickers, crayons, pens. I had a blast with them resulting in a mess in my kitchen. And I enjoyed hiding the eggs and watching them run around the yard trying to find them. I added the encouragement of attaching money value to each egg. But nothing made me smile the most then seeing their eyes light up when they got up and saw those brightly colored and stuffed baskets waiting for them. Me and my sister never bought premade baskets. We always bought the things empty and fixed them ourselves, individualizing each one according to the boy.

Of course we made sure the boys knew that Easter was not all about baskets and eggs and bunnies. That Easter was about Christ and His sacrifice for us. All of my boys are good born again Christens. They have their moments when I want to slap them on the back of the head sometimes, but for the most part they are good boys.

I asked Cory if he wanted an Easter basket. He rolled his eyes at me, but did admit that he would like a chocolate bunny. I guess I'll try to find one tomorrow on clearance.

I hope all of you have a Happy Easter and a great week to come.

Loves, Kelly

Patrick's Send Off

Patrick's sendoff. He's off the Fort Hood, then off to active duty-Iraq or Afganastan.

The Honeysuckle Incident

I shut off the vac. In the absence of it's industious roar I could hear the squeals of little boy delight and the screams of abject terror. Sighing deeply I left off the never ending housework when there are childern around. I went out onto the porch, stepping over my black chow Pudgin (don't ask), and looked up just in time to see one of my nephews, Patrick, careen around the corner of the house, his face pale and tears in his eyes. Behind him in hot pursuit came his four year old baby brother, Dalton, giggling that evil laugh that you only hear in a Stephen King movie. He had something in his hand raised up as if to throw it at his fleeing brother.
Pat rushed up the steps and hid behind me.
"What is going on out here?"
"Dalton's trying to kill me!" Pat wailed. "He's throwing honeysuckles on me."
I looked at the white blond-haired, big blue eyed mini demon in front of me and saw that in his hand he indeed held a tiny honeysuckle blossem. The wooded area behind my house was covered in them.
Normally the throwing of honeysuckle blossems would not matter, but recently we found out that Pat was allergic to the nectur inside. He had sucked it out along with his brothers last summer and blew up like he had been bee stung. Which resulted in a trip to ER, many doctor visits, and shots. Understandably he was very paranoid about honeysuckles.
"Dalton, why are you chasing your brother with that?"
"Fun!"
I shuddered. I swear Dalt sounded just like that kid off of Pet Semetery.
"Dalton, sweetie, I want you to find something else to entertain yourself besides terrorizing your brother."
"No!"
Why is it that that is the first word every child learns first?
"Do it or you will come inside for a nap."
He started to cry.
"Don't want nap." He stomped his little dirty feet. "You're mean. Going tell my mommy."
"Yeah, right. I'm shaking in my flip-flops."
He stomped his foot again, threw down the blossem as if to make a dent in my porch, and ran off toward the swingset, Pudgin right behind him.
"What if he does it again?" Pat said, sniffling.
I looked at the red-headed eight year old. Time to nip this paranoria in the bud, pun intended.
"Patrick, did Dalton force you down and stick the honeysuckle in your mouth"?
"No."
"Did the honeysuckle spit evil sweet-smelling goo at you?"
"No..."
"Did the blossem sink little teeth into your skin to suck out your blood?"
He just stared at me.
"Then I don't think you'll fall over dead if a honeysuckle should hit your skin. Now, go play-quietly-while I finish the housework."
He shuffled off the porch and headed in the other direction from Dalt. Somehow, though, I knew was not the end of this. I fully expected to be back out here breaking up another fight within the hour.
As I turned to go back inside my eyes landed on their older brother, Cory.
"Why didn't you stop this?"
He shugged.
"I knew it wouldn't hurt him and it was fun to watch."
I let out an aspirated sigh and headed back in with a slam of the screen door.
And it was only alittle after ten am.