The Sleep Killer

Photo A.M. Moscoso

We were at a museum and we were taking a long leisure walk through the Chamber of Horrors.

Around one of the corners was an example of what it looked like when someone was walled up alive and died in there.

” If you are really careful you can probably get your phone and hand into that opening and get a picture” Luis said to me.

I looked into the hole in the wall.

” I think you’re right.” I agreed.

I kissed the wall  ( well, I got as close as I could- no lips were actually involved ) and dropped my arm down through the opening and with a few clicks I had my picture.

I checked the little screen and said, ” I can use that for my Halloween stories. ” I said happily.

There was a woman standing behind me. She looked over my shoulder into my camera  and she asked, ” Do you think it’s real?”

” I’m not sure but I do know how to figure it out.”

” How? ” her friend asked.

” Well. You can tell if it’s a real bone by licking it. If it sticks to your tongue its real.”

My family were on their way out of the room before I could answer.

” Have you ever, I mean why would you, really? Where did you learn to do such a thing  ” she asked.

” I learned it in the Girl Scouts. ”

” No you didn’t.”

They laughed- it was a shaky laugh, it was timid, it was music to my ears.

” I’m just kidding, I didn’t learn to do that in Girls Scouts, that’s just crazy talk. I actually learned it on the Girl Scouts.”

Photo A.M. Moscoso
From: Ghostly Walks Tour

Daily Addiction  Prompt: Deprive




Scene Of My Crime

20 or so years ago I used to go to the library to do my research.

The computers were limited in what they could do ( but did anyone notice? ) and the screen was dark gray and the letters were orange. I used to sit there with my notebook and look for books and articles that I found in the indexes of other books.

One evening the going was slow- it was cold outside and both of my sons were sick and I had left the dinner making to my husband- who had a lot of talents but making dinner wasn’t one of them.

I realized what time it was and gathered up what I had and rushed up to the check out counter. I guess I had lost track of time because the library was closing.

The librarian was not happy as she began to check each of my dozen books out.

She mentioned the need to flash the light more so that the patrons would realize they were about to close. Then she wondered if they need to post the hours on little cards at the tables and computer stands because so many people seemed to be unaware of the library hours.

She looked at my stacked of books- they were about embalming and funeral practices, there were some about cannibalism and cemetery art. There were some about head hunters  and forensics too.

She looked at me and pursed her lips to keep from vomiting, I guess.

That look got my back up.

Five seconds ago she was the busiest librarian in the universe but she had all the time in the world to make faces over my reading material.

” I’m writing a book ” I offered.

” Oh. And what kind of book are  you writing. ” She said clearly NOT wanting to know.

” A cookbook.”

She took a little bookmark with the library hours on them from a pile and put one into the top book and snapped the cover shut.

She didn’t say to have a nice evening and she didn’t say she hoped I enjoyed my books and that  she hoped she’d see me soon.

That was okay, because I always seemed to end up in her line with a stack of book five minutes to closing.

Daily Addiction Prompt: Forensic

The Short Hike

Photo A.M. Moscoso

She could see the top of the hill from where she was- it was covered with long razor sharp grasses and treacherous slick weeds covered with thorns and bugs that smelled like rotten meat if you stepped on them.

Above her the sky was a cool light blue but the air was hot and the Sun was frozen in the sky.

She thought about moving, maybe she’d go ahead and try to get to the top of the hill and leave the thistles and busy bugs and the slow moving stream full of brown fetid water behind her.

Then she blinked and in that single blink the Sun disappeared from the sky.

So did the hill.

So did the bugs.

Relief, she thought.

Something soft and cool settled on her cheek- and clung there like dew on a carpet of rich green grass. A colorless shade fell across her and she almost sighed in relief.

Then from the other side of the cool white shade she was in she heard someone say:

” Looks like she may have slipped trying to get up that hill- the back of her head is almost gone. I wonder what she hit on her way down.”

She knew.

All they had to do was lift the sheet, look into her open unblinking eyes and ask.

Photo A.M. Moscoso


Daily Addiction Prompt: Scuttle

Promenade With Robert Johnson

I don’t mind the bumps in the road,

the challenging paths that  I ended up on by choice or design,

I don’t mind getting lost, being rescued, left for dead and stranded

on dusty trails to roads that go nowhere.

I just want more minutes, hours seconds in the day

so that I don’t have to rush through it all.


with Robert Johnson

to and through


Sunrise and Moon rise I can find.


Inspired By The Daily Additions Prompt ” Promenade

First In The First

I know


I had you

figured out.

How dare


be something


                                                                                 be someone else

how dare you

make me doubt

my reality


I am God

where  the Songs of Snohomish

In the First,

  trapped forever

 in the First

                                                                                   drone like bees

lost in a field

under a blazing  unforgiving  summer






First In The First





                                                                             Daily Prompt: Broken

Phooey On That

Photo A.M. Moscoso

This is the Gum Wall in Seattle.

It’s famous.

By A.M. Moscoso

This is my dog, Hamish Macbeth.

He should be famous but he is not.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

The concept of ‘fame’ is grossly overrated.


Daily Post: Fame


The Swim Reaper

Every year I plan and take my dream vacation.

My dream vacations used to involve spas, facials, sun, new clothes and salt water taffy.

I can find the best salt water taffy anywhere- send me to Mars or Titan ( oh pluheeez someone send me there ) and I will score the best salt water taffy WITHOUT the use of a phone app. It’s like magic with me.

We all have our gifts and special talents and that one is mine.

In the end though I will hit Google and punch in something like ” cemeteries ” or ” Ghost Tours  and then my dream trip turns into  something else entirely.

My plans to have the ultimate facial turns into me packing my trusty everyday face cleaner and Oil of Olay lotion. My new clothes get re shelved  and I start pulling out my favorite t-shirts and favorite worn out jeans and hiking boots.

I fold them nicely so they won’t wrinkle-most of the time.

Then I pack my camera, my laptop and whatever book I’m reading at the time and I’m ready to go.

The reality is, I don’t end up on the beach, or at a resort or having dinner and sipping wine under the stars while tossing out meaningful, insightful thoughts and ideas with other Suburban Escapees.

I end up somewhere else now days-  usually at a graveyard or at a counter in a diner tossing back popcorn shrimp and hearing stories from someone who saw a UFO or meeting someone who says they went school with a serial killer.

I sort of miss those Dream Vacation Days. They were romantic, exciting, planned safe. They were predictable in a very unpredictable world.

But over the years I’ve discovered that dream vacations should be like real dreams.

They should be strange, surreal, they should feel like those dreams where you’re falling from a cliff or a building or flying.

I now consider myself an adventurer- an explorer.

Except for the part about Salt Water Taffy.

I’m not giving that up.

I still go looking for it- and I always find it.


Photo A.M. Moscoso

Daily Prompt: Ceremony