Tuesday, June 23, 2015


She speaks into the void. Calls my name, but can't see me right in front of her. She must be blind.
She is kind.  She pities me.  Good bye old woman.  He is coming to chase you off again.  His gaze locks onto me. He spits, sneers and leaves the room.  I hope she comes back.  I like her smile.
I haven't been the same since You died Sam.   We had always been so careful.  Dad came into the room. I thought he was in Germany.

"Faggot"." My son is a God damn faggot"

The gun erupted twice.  I blacked out. The fear was too great.  I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you Sam.  I'm sorry.   That damn old man still controlled my fear.  I thought I had broken away. But he appeared and suddenly I was a young boy again.  Like when I was seven and he found me wearing moms dress.  I knew he had power to hurt me.  A father you see.  He is your sire.  He knows you.  He owns you.   Even when you know you are your own man.  When he appears the primal fear erupts.  The first lessons learned return. And you freeze.  The skin doesn't forget the sting.  The mind doesn't forget the hate. And the soul won't ever feel whole.

I broke that night.  Every day it's the same thing.  I lay in bed, holding my tears inside.   But then night comes. And I can't control it.  I yell. I moan.  I hit the walls.  I throw things.  I am passion.  I am fire. I am amplified hate.  Finally I sleep. But someone in the hall wakes me.  Or the old man opens the door.

I don't know if he's a doctor, a shrink.  He tells other people my story.  Says I went mad.  Mocks me for my love of Sam.  Mocks our sacred bond.  And I get mad. I don't make it to the door. Something stops me.  But I yell. I moan.  I hit the wall.

He seems to get pleasure out of that. His guests jump. They mock my pain.  I hate them.
But every day I'm here. In this room.

She is back. I must be six In the morning. " Tim. Come here. Hurry.  He'll be here anytime now. "
She opens the door looking at the far side of the room opposite me.  I notice salt has been poured across the threshold.  Out of her bag she pulls a weird branch. Looks like it's from a sage brush plant.

She mumbles some words while brushing away the salt line.

As she does I feel reconnected to the world. My room doesn't seem my prison anymore.  I thank her. She cuts me off.  "Tim, there's someone special waiting for you under the cypress tree."
I walk out back.  It's Sam.  We hug.  And never come back.

Yelp review for Hoskins Haunted Bed and Breakfast.
Clint Williams 1 star.
I came here five years ago and it was great.  Most paranormal activity I had ever seen.  Screams. Walls being pounded on. Things falling. Plus it jus had this creepy vibe.
Now there isn't a peep. No noise. Old man Hoskins has lost his magic.   Maybe he outta try a honeymoon B&B. His place just doesn't have the same spirit it used to.

1 comment:

  1. What the hell are you even writing about?? You're so cryptic and nothing you day makes any sense. Wtf??