If You Have Ghosts… (ABC Wednesday, 2/26/14)

Ghosts

Late at night
When I’m standing in a darkened room
I can feel your eyes on me
Watching me
Everything that I do
Watching me
And I know that it’s true…

I know you’re haunting me
I know you’re haunting me
I can’t see you there
But I know you’re with me everywhere
I know you’re haunting me…

Thats all I remember of a (mediocre) song I wrote roughly thirty years ago, which makes me sound a lot older than I feel. It, of course, conflates the natural obsession with a loved one lost with the supernatural presence of things unseen. It doesn’t take a ghost to haunt us, the world is full of people and things and events that can serve that purpose just fine. The things that we carry past their time, the things that obsess us, the things, for good or ill, that mold us, those things are our ghosts, metaphorically speaking.

But are there literal ghosts out there, haunting folks, drifting down cold hallways, moaning like they’re having the saddest possible orgasm, posing for blobular, out-of-focus pictures?

When I was a kid, I had what some folks would deem an encounter with a ghost, though others would reckon it an alien visitation. Lying in my bed one night, curled under my blankets, I saw a strange light outside my window that spooked the hell out of me. Though the light faded, I still felt like there was a presence out there, a presence I wanted nothing to do with. So I rolled over to face the wall, putting my back to the window in an act of sheer denial. Nope. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t feel any sort of presence, that would just be crazy.

A minute or three passed. Then, my sense that something — someone — was there got a lot stronger. I became convinced it was in the room with me. I didn’t want to look, but I had to; denial only goes so far. So I peeked.

Something was at the foot of the bed, standing there. It was indistinct, but it was taller than most adults. And it was glowing in the darkness.

I wanted to scream for my father. But I knew with dread certainty that if I did, the thing would vanish before he got to my room, and he’d be pissed that I woke him. My father pissed off was an ugly thing. I also feared that once he went back to bed, the glowing figure would come back. And having it return seemed even more terrifying than it being there in the first place.

So I squeezed my eyes shut and turned back toward the wall. I would just continue to ignore it until it went away.

Then, somehow, it reached through my covers…and touched my right shin. What I felt seemed to be cold, hard, bone fingers, as if the thing were a skeleton.

I started, my heart pounding, but stayed in position, eyes tightly closed, face toward the wall.

The fingers, if that was what they were, withdrew.

And I lay there for what seemed hours, until I no longer sensed the thing. I looked, and it was gone.

I have no idea what it was, or even if it was just a particularly vivid nightmare. As an avowed skeptic, I try to think it was just that, but it has the weight of true memory and sometimes I acknowledge I believe something did visit me that night. Maybe.

Like I said: skeptic.

Once upon a time, such an encounter might have been seen as a visit from the fae. Now, as I mentioned earlier, there are many similar tales told by folks who think an extraterrestrial came to see them. My maternal grandmother told me it was my mother (who died when I was a baby) coming to see me. But would my mother have seemed so sinister, so terrifying, so horrible?

Had to be a dream.

 G

I’ll return next Wednesday with the letter H. I hope you’ll stop by. I’m a writer and I post about a wide variety of non-alphabet-specific topics. Feel free to comment under my posts. If you want to subscribe to the blog, there’s a button in the sidebar.

Also, if you’re in the mood for ghostly doings, check out my story “Dead Folks,” available on Amazon for only 99 centsWhat would you do if your town was mysteriously inundated with the corpses of historical figures?

Dead Folks

For another fun ABC Wednesday post, visit the Carioca Witch here: Bringing Up Salamanders.

Find many more posts by others, and more info on ABC Wednesday, here: ABC Wednesday

Advertisements

A Supernatural Song of the Week (3/22/2012)

I’ve been mainlining Supernatural on Netflix the past several weeks and am about halfway through the sixth season now. And you know what? Officially one of my favorite shows ever.

Where other shows with complicated mythologies dig themselves deeper and deeper and ultimately flounder (and sometimes go out not with a whimper, but with a Hallmark card, like Lost), Supernatural dances with its mythology. Six seasons in and they’re still surprising me, still coming up with twists that work, still creeping me out, still making me laugh (thank you, Ben Edlund!), still making me care more and more for Sam and Dean and their oft-doomed cohorts.

Other than Firefly and Fringe, I can’t think of many shows that have delivered unto me so much delight since Buffy and Angel went away.

This week’s tune is for my fellow  Supernatural junkies. If you haven’t watched the show, do not watch this, as it is jam-packed with spoiler. There are plenty of other videos on YouTube of “Carry On My Wayward Son” you can watch without ruining the show for yourself if you’re in the mood for Kansas…

(UPDATE: Goddamnit. Embedding disabled. Assholes. Oh well, it’s worth the click through…FURTHER UPDATE: Adding another video below for folks who don’t want to spoil the show…)

“Dead Folks” Now Available

Click To Buy!

My story “Dead Folks” is now available from Amazon as a Kindle download for 99 cents. In the near future, it will be going up at other online venues, in other ebook formats. (If you don’t have a Kindle, you can still read Kindle books with free programs downloadable from Amazon, like Kindle for PC. I read Kindle books on my iPhone and desktop computer.)

Here’s the story’s description:

What do you do when your town is suddenly inundated with pesky corpses from various historical eras?

The problem turns personal for young Johnny when he and his sister find Franklin Delano Roosevelt floating dead in the lake. Then the stakes become more dire when he discovers the plague of dead folks might just be the least of his troubles.

Tim Byrd’s clever short story spins the sort of yarn that Mark Twain and Stephen King might produce if spacetime allowed them to collaborate. Join the creepy fun, but watch where you step.

If you read it, please consider leaving a short review on Amazon. It’s new and fresh and needs all the lovin’ it can get…