The Question Remains

My Response to Today’s image Prompt , “Lunar Wind” by Alex Andreev

“Lunar Wind” by Alex Andree

After Halloween

what will become of me?

Will I have stories to tell? A house to haunt?

When the clock strikes midnight on Halloween

and everyone else takes their masks off and casts their

death shrouds back into plastic tote boxes marked ” holiday stuff”

what am I supposed to do?

Where am I supposed to go?

My face is set in stone and my shrouds have grown into my bones

What will become of me, where will I sleep

after Halloween?

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Fountains of Spew

WP Daily Writing Prompt: What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?

Gertrude Abercrombie

I want to be one of those people who get away with opening their mouths and spewing verbal vomit all over the place because, ” they tell it like it is ” or ” they speak their mind ” or ” they’re salty”

Or ‘ they’ve always had an acerbic wit ‘

But that’s a risk I’ haven’t been able to take because the truth is, in this world there are people who can say whatever the Hell they want because they have family or friends who will stand there as those chunks of spew fly into their faces because maybe, just maybe if they eat that crap when it’s their turn to spew,  someone will stand there and chuckle and say- ” oh, they just speak their mind.”

I don’t have anyone like that in my life- nobody that I know will excuse me for being a jerk.

So until that time, this is not a risk I will be taking.

Let’s Give It A Whirl

WP Daily Prompt wonders: What could you try for the first time?

For the very first time I could try:

not celebrating Halloween  and I could try writing a love story between two humans and not two monsters with big fangs and acid for blood.

I could try to  wink when I want to show the I am a mischievous little imp – but not to worry because I am  a  sweet little thing and could not  harm a fly.

I could fancy up  the spelling of my name so that it looks exotic – but don’t worry you would still pronounce it the same way.

I could try to wear my hair in a pony tail and sport my fleece pajama bottoms and big baggy sweatshirt that I have had for over 15 years  when I go grocery shopping.

I could try all of those things for the very first time with enthusiasm and a can do spirit- but lucky for me I  periodically suffer from depression and  not insanity.

The Gravedigger’s Wife

For Fandango’s Flashback Friday I thought we would revist

The Gravedigger’s Wife.

Tree Shadows on the Park Wall, Roundhay
John Atkinson Grimshaw

Cilla Breck works as receptionist in a Funeral Home, her husband is a Gravedigger for the County and Cilla’s only other living relative beside her husband is distant cousin named Georgina who until her appeals run out will be sitting on death row in a State that has never executed a woman before.

Cilla wakes up hoping that the world will not start paying attention to  next and so far it hasn’t.

She stood alone at the bus stop where she waits for the S-4 where sits alone in the back of the bus.

Cilla does not say hello to the driver she does not from left to right and it’s debateable that she actually focuses on anything in front of her as she makes her way to the last seat.

Like most nights, Cilla set her backpack on her lap and looked out the window and began to wonder what she should make for dinner, or maybe she should have a Pizza delivered when she felt something  bump her elbow.

She looked over and sitting there right next to her was a man in a blue suit.

He smiled at her.

She did not smile back.

“ Chilly tonight, isn’t it?” he asked.

She did not answer.

She was busy thinking, he didn’t look familiar so he wasn’t a regular rider. She guessed he was a new rider.

And a chatty one.

Cilla hated chatty bus riders.

She was looking out the window when a thought crept up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

It said.

“ Cilla, did you see this guy at the bus stop?”

No, Cilla told herself.

“ Did you see him when you were walking to the back of the bus?”

Can’t say I did.

“ Doesn’t that bother you Cilla?”

Does what bother me?

“ Well, first of all that you don’t seem to focus on anyone-which seems to be something a lot of people are guilty of. But look at this awful position you’re in because of that. Some guy came out of nowhere and touched your elbow. He got that close to you Cilla. He touched your elbow. And he’s talking to you”

Cilla ended her one sided conversation and looked at the man from the corner of her eye and then she looked out the window.

She saw him sitting next to her.

He was looking out the window and that’s where their eyes met.

Cilla turned back to him and stared into his face for moment.

And then she turned back to the window.

She never saw him coming.

He got close enough to touch her.

And now he was staring at her.

“ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on this bus before.”

“ I ride it every night. “ he told her.

“ This bus?”

“ This bus.”

Cilla pulled her shoulder away from the man and she said bluntly. “ I’ve never seen you before.”

“ I’ve seen you.” He said.

Cilla did not doubt that.

“ I’ve even  sat next to you a few times. “

Cilla looked straight ahead.

“ I’ve even gotten off at your stop  with a couple of times.”

Cilla wondered if anyone noticed the two of them talking.

“ But mostly I get on at  the stop on Second and Washington.”

Cilla clutched her backpack to her chest.

Nobody used the stop on 2nd.  Cilla didn’t even use it,

That stop was located by the Southwall- back in the old days that’s where the John and Jane Does were buried.

The women were buried in simple dresses and the men…

In Blue Suits.

I am sitting next to a ghost, Cilla told herself. I am sitting next to the ghost of a dead man.

He knows that I know what he is and people are looking right at us and they don’t know what they are looking at.

She looked ahead as the bus pulled up to a stop and  when she turned to look at the Dead Man in the Blue Suit…

He was gone.

She looked out the window and she saw him at the bus stop standing next to a woman talking on her phone and a man reading a book.

They were looking around the Deadman and right at the Deadman and Cilla guessed they weren’t actually seeing the Deadman.

But he saw them.

He was looking right at them.

Photographer Unknown