Is Anybody Home?


What makes a house a home?

Is it really just walls, rugs, a well used couch and a somewhat ok bed, is that drawer in the kitchen that we used to call a ” utility drawer ” until we come to the realization that a drawer full of sort of used  birthday candles and expired coupons for hot dog buns and fondue skewers for a fondue pot that disappeared back in 1984 wasn’t full of helpful items to anyone except  maybe one of those geniuses that can make nuclear reactors in their garage with salt, wire and lots and lots of tinfoil.

I suppose you could say those things contribute to making our houses a home.

But all of us know what makes a house a home are the things that live and die inside of it.

A mixture of humans, pets and in some cases reptiles, birds and fish can make a family.

They all have wishes and dreams and hopes and all of them can close their eyes or have them shut by someone else and Death can stand there in his dark robe, scythe in hand   and wonder why the candy dishes are full of empty candy wrappers from three Halloweens ago  and phone chargers that might still work  and NO candy.

I have always believed that if your house doesn’t have a ghost or two, if there aren’t stories about a body buried in the basement or next to the house where the garbage cans are then I am sorry for you.

You have a house, a home you have a place to stash your unread books and clothes that don’t fit anymore. It’s a place to keep the rain off of your head and has a door to shut firmly against the infamous wolf who finds it’s way to a door or two or three, so songs and stories say.

I have a home where the doors open and shut for no reason at all, I have a black cat with round yellow eyes named Darwin and a dog named Hamish Macbeth, I listen to Opera when it rains and Swing music when I’m happy.  I have a collection of books near my dining room stacked neatly  wrought iron  shelf that I was inherited from a dead woman I thought I knew well.

The spines on my books have been carefully broken over the years my books and they are all  about Voodoo, Santeria and  Embalming, Astronomy and people with adventure in their veins and darkness where their hearts used to be.

I also have  a collection coloring books that are almost completed- some have pictures of cupcakes.

I have a thing for cupcakes.

My dreams may be dark and my humor is suspect in some social circles but for all of my strangeness and quirks I have a home just like everyone who lives on my street and on streets just like it

And I haunt it every single night.

Daily Addictions Prompt: Resident

Count On It

Photo by Jonathan Petersson on

When I was learning to play board games and card games I always lost.




No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much effort I put into it




The crazy thing is, I kept getting board game and decks of cards for birthday presents and Christmas presents  and it was a joke because when my family set the game up anyone could predicate that







This little note about me  was as predictable and it was a solid stone cold fact that when we went out for a meal my baby sister would always spill her drink.





The Sun will rise, the Moon will set, the planets will twirl.


I will always lose at games.


After years of never wining a




I refused to play games anymore.






To Lose.




I have learned a

lesson- whether it was a good lesson or a bad lesson isn’t the point because in the end

the epitaph on any tombstone will say that




Played Games.


This is not  such a bad way to be  remembered.

Photo by Pixabay on


Daily Addictions Prompt: PREDICT


Ghost Of An Idea


Photo A.M Moscoso

When I worked at a graveyard I used to hold back the urge to knock on the tombstones and mausoleum doors

and ask

” Is anybody there? Is anybody home?”

I wondered then and I wonder now,  what I would I have done  if someone had answered:

” Yes I am, why don’t you come on in and sit with me for awhile.”

That’s not the part that  stopped me from putting my hand to stone and asking if anyone was at home with their eyes capped shut and  their once fine clothes, selected by care and sometimes duty now covered by dusting of  mold and their small dark world  surrounded and filled  by a spider web of  decay.

The thing that puzzled me, that stopped,  me was wondering was

why was I always so sure I would say


Photo A.M. Moscoso

Daily Addictions Prompt: Decay

Meet Halloween’s Lil’ Sister- Valentine’s Day

The stores are stocking up on their Valentines inventory and gee whiz I can hardly wait for the big day to get here!

The interwebs will be awash with pictures of disembodied hearts and little demonic creatures flying through the air against a backdrop of pink clouds ( pink is my favorite color ) with bows and arrows clutched firmly in their little hands and there will be stories galore about people vowing to love each other until the day they die and beyond.

Valentines Day, it’s like Halloween but nobody is grossed out by soon to be corpses in love or little monsters who are armed and can fly in stealth mode or internal organs  wrapped in ribbons and in some cases being carried by birds.

Oh. And Candy is involved. I love candy.

So let’s all coast along  with a song in our hearts until the big day gets here and as we do that, let’s reflect on cadavers, candy and cacodemons in silk.

That’s what I’ll be doing. You know it. Right?

Daily Addictions : Coast

Try It. I Dare You.

I belong here

and you belong over there

I am in my place

I am righteous


you are lost.

That’s what everyone says

with hammer in hand, nails firmly clenched in their teeth.

Get the point?

Now go off and rot.

I’ve heard it all before.

Stay in the lines

stay in your box

magic marker your label on your forehead

inside of your eyelids

or else.

I say.

Tell me what else


“Nos libenter epulor super illos qui volo ut opprimendum nos,”

Daily Addictions Prompt: Border

Here Are My Tygres

Photo by Pixabay on



ruins of buildings, lives and the faces of people I knew

or thought I knew

visit me when I sleep.


These phantoms  drive the nightmares

that visit me, that haunt me, that call  the endless twilight in my head home

Dead images, abandoned words, forgotten promises and curses  brought to life again now live in the daylight

in each word I carve on stone, in paper on bone.


Daily Addictions Prompt: Motor

It’s A New You

It’s time to make myself over again.

It’s time to see new things, read new books dig a few graves behind an abandon factory or maybe one of those houses that have stood empty  for years and years  and have those yellow or sometimes neon orange stickers on the door or near the place where the door used to be.

It’s time to make myself over again.

Maybe I’ll try some new makeup, get a new hairstyle or get myself a face all together.

I’m handy with a needle and thread and I’m a whiz with anything that involves a sharp edge.

It’s time to make myself over again- I suppose.


I could easily stay the same non-descript fat, sloppy woman that rides the same train everyday and drives the same way to and from the station and nobody notices unless they literally walk into me because they’re  busy looking at their phones or they hurry to get home to watch TV or download porn onto their laptops or wipe their browser history on the family computer or something super important like that.

I could do that.

I could stay the same fat, sloppy,  non descript woman with messy hair who sort of drifts from moment to moment and doesn’t seem to be real or matter to anyone or anything at all.

For now.

You’re Welcome.

Daily Addictions Prompt: Invent