Cracked

31 Writing Prompts for May 2023: Cracked

Photographer Unknown

Rape scenes, mutilation scenes, torture scenes, humiliation scenes- the suspect staple of some horror movies. These are the must have elements for your standard horror flick.

May I say here, sometimes I am amused by cheap shots but most of the time I am not amused.

But hardcore ‘horror fans ‘ love this stuff.

When it comes right down to it, I’m not so sure that the people who enjoy these scenes are really scared by them, rather they enjoy them.

They enjoy them a lot.

So when I am at a theatre and I am sitting through your standard ‘horror’ film where the victim shows you her boobs before she dies, or someone gets skinned alive,  I’m not scared or creeped out by what I see on the screen.

However, I AM pretty grossed out and  get caught up in the moment with the rest of the audience  when I realize the person sitting next to me is enjoy what they are seeing.

Something about the way they rub their hands on their thighs or grab their faces and groan before they scream and laugh makes my skin crawl, it makes me not want to walk into a dark room ever again  without feeling along the wall ( with my eyes closed )  for the light switch and if I have the time to gather them-  a cross and a bucket of holy water too.

THAT to me is the true horror story.  I can’t take my eyes off of what I am seeing sitting right next to me and  it’s scene  that makes my skin crawl in horror every single time.

And I must say.

I like that- a lot.

Stinging Nettles Are Not Fun-Most Of The Time

RDP Monday: NETTLES

Stinging Nettle
Tom Reaume

One day ( when I was about 9 years old ) me and my friends were out  doing ‘nothing’ as we Boomers and gen X’rs called it back in the day, when we came across a huge bed of stinging nettles.

Keep in mind there was no Google, there were no cellphones with cameras,  and the  writing on the bathroom walls in schools and restaurants and bars were as close as  we were to having ” Social Media Platforms. ” Our source of information came to us by word of mouth and trial and error. It may not sound efficient, but what can I say? If the power went out or you lost a charger you  weren’t cut off from the world.

Besides, we weren’t stupid kids and we used to spend a lot of time in the woods. We knew exactly what stinging nettles looked like and had to been told about a million stories about people who had been stung.

So at that point none of my group of friends had been stung yet.

Out in the woods that day as we found ourselves looking down into that softy green bed of nettles, and of course,  because it was just bound to happen sooner or later  one of us said, ” how bad can it really hurt? “

 Was it as bad as a bee sting? A shot in the arm from the doctor? What did it feel like,  we wondered.

I’ve seen videos of honey bees shaking their backsides and dancing- that’s how they  communicate with each other ( which is the same thing humans do, but I digress ) so without saying a word,  like a colony of bees, me and my friends all reached down at the same time and grabbed a handful of stinging nettles- just to see what it would feel like.

I am here to tell you it doesn’t feel good, it does hurt. But back then when you were a out in the woods pulling silly stunts with your friends and it cost you,  you could  scream and carry on as loud as you wanted with wild abandon-because back then there were no phone with cameras and youtube and tic-tok or instagram to spread you ding- bat behavior all over the internet where it would live forever-

except

there might be one of you who didn’t grab a handful of stinging nettles because her Mama didn’t raise a fool and that friend might grow up to be a writer who will blog about your adventures on line

where

they will live on the internet forever.

 

The Ghost Bunny Trick

Today’s Daily Prompt asks, What is the legacy you want to leave behind?

Artist Uknown

This is a story about the night one of our neighbors died.

Because I was so young at the time, my memories are a little fragmented so to keep my account as close to what happened as possible, I don’t want to fill anything in because I think it would take away from my memory.

To begin, I don’t remember his name, but the elderly gentleman who lived a few doors down from where we lived at been a magician and worked the vaudeville circuit.

He was a little famous in our neighborhood and he still had posters and props from his stage days.

Before he got sick and his health began to rapidly decline, he had taught me to work some of the  magic tricks that I had bought at the dime store.But he always apologized after our lessons because he said his timing was off. It had been off since the night he had crashed his car driving over an icy bridge and ended up in the river below.

That’s why he left the stage and had given up his act. His timing was off, not by a lot from what I understand. But enough to remove him from the ranks of being a professional magician.

He had changed after the accident too. Not by a lot. Just little things that sometimes made his family and friends say things like, ” he wasn’t the same after the accident. ”

I was friends with his great granddaughter and she had told me that sometimes he forgot their names and sometimes when he looked in the mirror he didn’t recognize his own face-  so his wife took all the mirrors out of their house. The only one they had was in the bathroom downstairs that he never used.

Artist Uknown

On the night he died I remember seeing the Priest going into our neighbor’s house and a little while later I saw the Priest leave.

I was sitting at the end of the walkway and I asked him if my neighbor had died and he told me he had.

I told him I would miss learning my magic tricks from my neighbor and the Priest looked a little  sad. I told him he had taught me the disappearing egg trick, the Chinese Rings, and the Ghost Bunny Trick.

” Which one is that? ” he asked me.

I told him I knew how to make a ghost bunny appear from a top hat. But I said, I hadn’t figure out how to make it get back into the hat right away.

My neighbor said his timing was off and he couldn’t get it back into the hat at all and that if I worked on my Ghost Bunny Trick I could get it to go back into the hat where it belonged.

The Priest nodded and smiled and as he walked away I looked over his shoulder toward’s my neighbor’s house.

I saw the shadow of the ghost bunny from my Elderly Neighbor’s bedroom window- it’s ears were long and pale white, and they curved  away from it’s diamond shaped head instead of over it.

It waved it’s spidery fingers at me and I waved back.

Artist Uknown

Paradise

31 Writing Prompts For May: Blender

Blocks and chunks of ice

Lemon and limes artistically

Encased in their smooth cool skins

Near and  close by they

Don’t have any way of knowing that

Each day my single bottle of 

Rum hungrily awaits to meet them.