Frosty With Attitude

At one point in time, Frosty The Snowman didn’t dance around for your amusement. Oh no he most certainly did not! During the Victorian Era he would seriously mess you up if you stuck a carrot in his face.

What do I mean?


Frosty The Snow Demon immortalized in Christmas cards because why not.

No. No. They Did Not Go There

These are examples of the kind of Christmas cards Victorians gave to each other to celebrate Christmas- not Halloween- CHRISTMAS.

You’d look this sad  if you were decapitated and someone stuck a Christmas card in your mouth and then mailed you across town.

Another decapitated dog- but this one looks angry.

Good for him.

Looks like Fido had enough of your Christmas shenanigans Victorians … BOL.

Happy New Year.

In a Flash

Holidailies Prompt: Share some of your favorite pictures from this past year

My Favorite Pictures of


They’re not art and they’re not witty or clever and they don’t make a statement

but they’re my favorites because of the memories they captured.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

My dog Hamish Macbeth and his big brother  Micey. This was taken shortly before Micey died- Micey was almost 17 years old and he and Hamish were always together. We miss you our little Micey.


My granddaughter Jemma- she’s a spirited gal like me! This was from the trip me and Luis took to see our Son and his family in May.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Taken in Olympia, Washington. I love it when trees look  spooky.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

This was a big day for Hamish Macbeth! Not only did he overcome his fear of getting into cars in 2019 he was officially now unafraid of water now. As you can see, he was ready to swim for it and Luis gave him as much lead as he could so that Hamish could enjoy himself.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

We have a talented sidewalk chalk artist in our neighborhood,  I loved the planets and stars but most of all I loved that drawing of the waving hand. Captain Kirk would be proud.


The House In The Field

RDP Tuesday: vacant

Photo by Pixabay on

My train passes by that house- that one lonely house in a field full of rusting metal  and pools of fetid water every single day 16 times a day whether I am on the train or not.

The house used to be light blue and there are still curtains in the windows frames but the glass has been gone for a long time,  and I’m sure if you tried to open the door you would find it locked.

There is a porch on the side of the house and it was there I saw the dog for the first time.

The dog  was black and it was wearing an orange collar and it was obviously a very big dog because it looked huge from a distance.

At first I wasn’t sure it was a real dog- it didn’t flinch when the train roared by, it’s longish fur never moved out of place from the wind that flew up to where it sat across from the tracks.

The Dog was watching for something and nothing- not even a train screaming in it’s face could persuade it to look away for even a second.

No, it didn’t act like a dog- it didn’t even act like it was alive.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on


Last winter- the winter that turned into Summer in the blink of an eye- my train, with me on it sped up to the house and I saw that the front door was open and that the dog was not on the side porch.

He was at the edge of the yard and it was stunning  how big he really was. I could see his face and his eyes- they weren’t dark brown or red or orange- they were bright, they were so bright they were blinding.

I didn’t  look away from that light  because when I heard the Black Dog  growl it felt like my heart had stopped.  I couldn’t turn my head, I couldn’t shut my eyes I couldn’t have moved even if  I had wanted to.

It never really registered- I couldn’t move but I flew all the same.

Photo by Pixabay on

That dog  was the last thing I saw and heard  until I woke months later,  minus a leg and my right eye and most of the fingers on my right hand.

There was a signal error that caused our train to crash with the freight train I was told probably a million times.  But the head injuries I suffered were extensive and it was quite awhile before anything I was told made any sense to my poor damaged brain,

When I  was able to tell  people about the last thing I remember- the house in the field with the dog that chased us  and caught us I suppose, people would pat my arm and smile and gently explain that there wasn’t a house in that field and there probably was never a dog there either.

It was just my mind blotting out a horrific experience with images I could understand, images that were not as terrifying as the reality of what we all went through.

But I am sure of one thing- my life after I saw that dog was a patchwork and weeks of my life went by without me being able to remember them. My short term memory still isn’t all it should be.

But I remember everything from before I saw that dog chase us-

and I am certain of this

Something was in that house behind the locked door and one day it came out and it sent it’s dog after us and I am positive as I said earlier that it caught us.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on

Look for it. It’s a blue house, there are curtains in the window frames and the front door is shut and probably locked, there is a black dog on the porch steps.

If you see it, go away from it- whatever it takes- don’t go anywhere near it-don’t let it catch you.

It’s In The Cards

A few years ago I stopped sending Christmas cards- I stopped because I really wasn’t into the card choices that were out there and anyone who really knows me probably opened the envelope and saw those glittery snowmen and happy children and puppies on sleds and said,

” Wow. Anita. Who chose these because you sure didn’t.”

I’d pay good money to know for sure what they were thinking because I’m sure it was a hoot.

Anyway. Wouldn’t you know it? Being at the tail end of the Boomer Generation has it’s unexpected benefits, like the stuff you liked as a kid and a teenager are mainstream now.

For example, these are my Christmas Cards and they weren’t exactly hard to find:

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

And USPS even came across- they actually printed Halloween stamps with some cool designs which will perfectly compliment my cards: I did go safe on a second choice of cards- those are for some of my relatives who pass around the links to my stories but getting a Krampus Christmas card  would not be their cup of tea. And I’m ok with that.

Providing of course I can enjoy my cup of tea  with all of the Spirit the season allows.

Now I am off to Toll Some Bells- wait- Jingle some bells and have a little more holiday fun.

I hope you will too.



It’s Christmas So Read This Book!

If you want a nice little collection of ghost stories to read over the Christmas Holidays, then have I got a book recommendation for you!

It’s called the Ghosts of Christmas Past and it’s edited by Tim Martin.

I’m not going to give you a review- I’m going to give you a taste of the stories that tickled my bones:

The Story of a Disappearance and an Appearance  by M.R. James

First of all, you haven’t read a ghost story until you have read James. In this story Punch and Judy do what they do, but toss in the sound of crunching bones and people who can’t wake up from that particular nightmare and you’ll get the chills. There’s a missing Uncle too.

The Visiting Star by Robert Aickman

Remember these names- Mister Superbus  and Myrrha. It will all make sense after you read the story and is it delicious!

The Vanishing House- Bernard Capes

If you’re familiar with what a body looks like during the various stages of decomposition or with what Vampires look like in traditional folklore there are some characters you might NOT want to meet on a snowy night.

These are all short stories and they are meant to be read slowly and savored. So if it’s dark and chilly and you want to have a little winter fun,