Heads Up!

Daily Post: Trick or Trick –
It’s Halloween, and you just ran out of candy. If the neighborhood kids (or anyone else, really) were to truly scare you, what trick would they have to subject you to?

© Swoosieque

Scare me? Not possible. My home is the scariest in the neighborhood. My “man” sits on a chair with a talking skeleton upon his lap and they welcome the little darlings with varied messages, “Hey, I’m thirsty, can you get me a glass of water, please?” Or, “Hehehe, nice costume, what are YOU supposed to be?”

There are ghosts blowing in the wind which magically hang around my front patio and do not fly away. Another talking skeleton stands right next to the doorbell, daring the little ones to go ahead, ring it.

Cobwebs sprinkled with black widow spiders drape the corner where the man sits, lighted jack-o-lanterns and hanging scarecrow lights lend an eerie glow to the darkened entryway. Squeaking sounds and ghostly music float through the air. Even the older kids pause before walking upon the porch step, uncertain of who or what is sitting in that corner chair. No one walks up to the door alone, never, ever. Even parents who accompany their children have wondered whether or not the figure was actually someone in costume, ready to pounce and scare.

© Nightmare Factory

Truth is, the man in the corner is my own creation. My own Frankenstein monster sans life. I stuff remnants from an old comforter into a pair of my husband’s old jeans, bend and shape them to fit the chair then likewise stuff an old t-shirt topped off with a long-sleeved shirt. I stuff and pin an old pair of work gloves to the shirt cuffs and place a pair of boots beneath each pant leg. The frosting on the cake, er, um, the topping on the outfit is the magnificently realistic head from the Nightmare Factory. I have used this decapitated creation in varying displays at Halloween and never, ever, have I been the one “tricked” or “scared.”

Three in a Row

Daily Post: Trio No. 3 – Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must mention a dark night, your fridge, and tears (of joy or sadness; your call). Feel free to switch one ingredient if you have to (or revisit one from previous trio prompts).

Dark night, fridge, tears…

© Google Search

Tonight would be the third in a row without power since stormy winds and lightening damaged the power lines. How crazy that above-ground power lines still exist, why aren’t they all buried and why is it that my little neighborhood has buried power lines but we’re still out of power? I know, I know, because my neighborhood’s power is connected to other, bigger power lines which are above ground and connected to even bigger above-ground power lines and if any of those are damaged then, kapoof, we’re out of power along with everyone else who are connected to those big power lines.

The first night wasn’t so bad. I have enough flash lights, batteries and candles to be able to navigate through the house on a dark night and the first night reminded me of when we would lose power for only one night when the boys were young — it would be an opportunity for us to sit by candlelight and tell scary chain-stories. Those stormy nights were something to look forward to and are fondly remembered by all. But, tonight, the boys are gone, they are grown up with families of their own, living far away, in sunny places, in snowy places, maybe even in a stormy place, but, none of them live nearby in this stormy place.

Day four without power, I wonder how long the food in the fridge will remain edible? I go to take inventory, sniffing the most likely culprits to spoil first, turkey lunch meat, milk, leftover spaghetti. I think the turkey lunch meat has gone bad, something just doesn’t smell right, better toss it. Taking a spoonful of the spaghetti, my taste buds confirm it is still edible, no bad smell or after-taste. Good, that’s what we’ll have for dinner again, third night in a row since pulling it from the deep freezer, but tonight will probably be the last night it will be edible.

© scribbls.com

I open the container of milk and breathe in a hefty whiff, only to be staggered by the offensive, rotten smell, tears well-up in my eyes and I must cough to rid myself of the awful stench. Thank goodness we have bottled water to quench our thirsts even though I cannot use tap water to rinse the rancid milk down the drain since we are rural and require electricity to pump water from the well through our faucets. I’ll just keep the milk in the fridge until the power is back on and I can wash it down the drain.

© Dan Witz

Suddenly, the sounds of motors and electricity fill the air and lights push away darkness! The power outage is over! Sweetness!