Zombie Starfish and Seahorses

RDP Wednesday – SPLASH

Photo by Lucas Ettore Chiereguini on Pexels.com

Do you think that Sharks are the scariest thing in the ocean?


The Starfish.

Starfish ( or Sea Stars, they aren’t fish but they aren’t stars either so whatever  ) have no blood and no brain but they do have eyes, hundreds of feet and they eat by pushing their stomach out of their mouths into the inside of their prey ( shells of muscles of clams for instance ) and digest it.

Can you imagine if Starfish were bigger?

” So, did you hear about what happened to Jill on her trip ?  She got eaten by a Starfish! It was messed up.  She was on the beach drinking wine and reading poetry like she does and she went for a quick dip and this Starfish crawled up on her and stuck it’s stomach in mouth and yuck, yuck, YUCK.”

Update from 2018: An unknown mutation is saving sea stars from wasting disease

My favorite sea animal is the Seahorse- first of all, unlike Starfish, Seahorses are actually fish. They suck their prey up their noses- or snouts and they have excellent eyesight.

Only 1 in a thousand baby Seahorses live to adulthood, which means they are both rare and precious and unlike Starfish I can see no scenario where they evolve into merciless killing machines like Starfish.

I’ve always wanted to have seahorses, but I kill house plants so I don’t think that’s going to happen. Still, when I go to Aquariums I always check out the seahorses

Maybe it’s their faces, or the way they swim or that they mate for life, like wolves but Seahorses are the coolest things in the ocean check out these videos and see for yourself:


To answer the prompt more specifically –

this is  what splash means to me…it’s the sound that the ocean makes

when the monsters are swimming  around.

Photo by u0410u043bu0435u043au0441u0430u043du0434u0440 u041fu0440u043eu043au043eu0444u044cu0435u0432 on Pexels.com

It’s a Funny Story, Actually


Last year I visited Wisconsin for the very first time and my family- with the happy addition of my beautiful Granddaughter- took a nature hike at a park outside of Fox Lake.

Here’s a picture of my handsome son and his beautiful baby:

Photo A.M Moscoso

There was greenery everywhere- even the turtles- who I had never seen in the wild before were green. I’m from Washington state, so the minute I see green and blue I instantly feel at home and I settled into my creative ways right off the bat.

That is always a good thing, right?

Because of  the I felt so at ease,  I saw a lot of potential  for some great shots that I could use for my Halloween stories.  Ok, Halloween was like five months away but if I want to post daily I get my work finished by the end of August.

Photo A.M. Moscoso


Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M Moscoso

So I was standing at this lookout point and I could see marshes and animals like hawks trying to not be noticed as they went about their day and these gnarly clusters of trees and the ground was super soft and if you wanted to:

” This would be a great place to dump body parts.” I told my son and about a dozen people standing next to us who were part of a bird watching group. ” I mean, what you don’t toss into the marsh is going to get eaten by a hawk or maybe foxes or something like that.”

My son who knows his Mother well wasn’t  exactly  taken back by my observation.

” So. ” I said as these beautiful birds burst from a tree and took flight over head and my Granddaughter crowed in delight. ” Are there any old cemeteries around here?”

” You know the kinds I like, the creepy ones ghosts wouldn’t get caught dead haunting.”

My son assured me there was and did we want to stop for Ice Cream first?

” Hell yes!” I  said with boatloads of enthusiasm, because who doesn’t love Ice Cream on a hot day?

I turned around and a group of very nice people who were enjoying a day of bird watching looked from the sky to me and I sort of tilted my head forward so that my bangs  fell across my eyes and I smiled, well my version of one.

Yeah. I didn’t help myself there much. It’s not one of my more Grandmotherly looks- unless you put it in the same category as the Wolf pretending to be Red Riding Hood’s Grandmother.

I suppose that sometimes it might serve me well to remember to use my inside voice when I’m working.

But when inspiration takes root and burst to life, I don’t think that reigning it in is the thing to do.


I Hope The Monsters Don’t Get Me

Normally I don’t offer side notes when I write things here,  but in this case I will.

When I was little and goofed off with my friends Bonnie and Linda on the way to school, we were always late. Our excuse to our teacher?  We blamed it on monsters. So that was my inspiration for my response to this prompt:

Today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt is FINISH!

Photo by Lennart kcotsttiw on Pexels.com

Am I coming together

or falling apart.

I think I’ve started to move

I wonder if I will stall again.

Maybe this time

the Monsters won’t get me

maybe this time

I’ll finish my race with them






For Real?


Ragtag Daily Prompt for Thursday, 9 May 2019  —  DISTINGUISH / DISTINGUISHED

My world in Black and White appears distinguished, quiet and still.

Kind of like a corpse in a coffin or a weather worn headstone in neglected cemetery.


Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo of Hamish Macbeth by A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso


RDP Tuesday: Match

Everyone has a double, if not on this world then it’s possible that in a Universe of alternate realities you might not have just one double.

You could have an infinite number of copies of yourself for every action that you have ever made or not made.

Imagine that, an exact double of yourself- someone who not just looks like you but thinks like you and is it possible might know what makes you tick? Maybe they even act like you and get that same funny look on their face when that song about Pina Coladas starts playing on the radio and they know they have to listen to it because it’s coming over the loudspeaker at the Market and they can’t shut it off so they go to the manager’s office and explain- rather forcefully why they need to shut that damn thing off.

I don’t handle surprises well, my reaction to surprises and uncomfortable situations has gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past and if I wasn’t as careful as I have learned to be, I’d be back at The Home right now not on a bus on my way to work, like a normal person.

Today is where my story starts- this morning on my way to work  a woman sat next to me on the bus.

I pulled to my left and jammed myself against the window- I loath touching people- it doesn’t matter if it’s on accident or on purpose. It makes my skin crawl.

I  went back to pretending to read my book and I sort of snuck a look at her without catching her eye. I don’t like talking to strangers you see. In fact, I don’t like talking to anybody at all.

People annoy me-so I do what I do best. I people watch. I’m not the type of person you would ever really look at twice- it’s because my face is less then ordinary. Plain, simple , uneventful.

I took a quick look her jaw and then I  got away with that without being noticed I went back in for a peek at her ear and just as I was about to take in her entire profile our eyes locked.

Or should I say- my eyes locked on my own reflection.

Her nose was my nose, her dark eyes were my eyes her hair was styled like mine and the way her  lip curled a little when she was forced to acknowledge another human being was my curled lip.

My double, my match, this was not good.

We stared at each other and I put my book down- I watched her eyes fall to my lap where my book was and her eyes snapped back up to my face.

Both our lips were curled up into a little snarl at this point.

I see, she was reading this book too. She probably didn’t like it but I was willing to bet she would read it to the end anyway, just like me.

” Are you my double? ” I asked because I could not think of anything else to say.

” I think you are my double.” she corrected me.

We continued to stare at each other.

” How much alike do you think we are?” it wasn’t really a question. It was more like a thought.

” We do look a lot alike.”

” Do you suppose we think alike to?” I wondered.

Her eyes went from being flat and non-descript to the exact opposite of flat and non-descript.

” I’m sure we don’t think alike or act alike or share anything other then -” I began

” an uneventful and boring face. My Dad used to say that about me and -” she continued

” so did my ex-husband” I  finished our  exchange.

” I can’t have my secrets, ” she said ” running around like an ill trained dog off of it’s leash.”

” I agree.”

I put my book into my purse.

She pulled the cord and the bus slid to the curb and we both got off at the stop.

We went down the street together and I know this- only one of us will be walking back to the stop later and  I am certain  there will only be one of us left  to finish writing this.

The Crossroads

RDP-Sunday– ROAD


When I was a kid, I was absolutely enchanted, and there is no better word for how I felt then ‘enchanted’,  by the story I had learned about a man who faced the Devil at the Crossroads and struck a deal with  the Devil  to become the best and the fiercest, despite the fact it would doom him, Blues Guitarist ever.

The Devil himself  gave Robert Johnson what he wanted and in the end the Devil got what he wanted too.

I should clear a few things up here.

First of all I heard the story about Robert Johnson before I ever heard his music- it was one more scary story that my childhood brain soaked in and on it’s own it grew to epic proportions.

By the time I heard Johnson’s music I was playing the guitar on my own and I understand  how having those long sleek fingers helped Johnson to play the way he did. In fact  I developed- as my teacher put it – ‘ a freakishly long reach ‘ with my own left hand despite the fact my hands are small and pretty much what you would expect to see on an average size woman.

But lo and behold it did help me with my technique.

Along with that I had been learning about the politics of being a musician and I had a good idea about why established guys who he would have been in competition with  Robert Johnson  for gigs ran around and told everybody that Johnson couldn’t play.

On with the story,.

By the time Johnson came back a year later, so the story goes,  he had improved with Supernatural speed and had the skills of the Devil himself.

Of course, the guys who were initially  saw Robert Johnson as competition and claimed he was talentless had probably  become secure in their own abilities and their focus shifted from the outside to the inside.

Besides, it face saving to say Johnson must have struck a deal with Satan then admit you were a scared little wimp who was afraid to hold his own against another musician-especially since that is what you do every time you play.

The reality of who Robert Johnson was and what his real story was is just as tragic and dark  as the legend that grew around him.

But that’s another story and much of it was lost to history.

But still, that story about a man who faced the Devil at the Crossroads and went on to his fate with nothing but his guitar and a ticking clock attached to his soul  still enchants me.

In my mind, that Robert Johnson has taken his place among the  greatest characters of the supernatural- his spirit is the type of spirit  that I go out  go to the Cross Roads and look for when  I want to  find a  story to tell.