Mr. Wilson Made it Home!

Mr. Wilson Made it Home!
Mr. Wilson

Friday, December 19, 2014

Silent Night, Good Girl



It’s time once again for one of my favorite passtimes, telling Ghost Stories! Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightening Fall has provided a creepy, wonderful means for us to tell some good ones. The rules are simple, 100 words, no more, no less, and make it creepy!

“From your chair by the window, you can see snow sluicing down from a leaden sky, white on gray. The radiator ticks. The eaves creak. Metal clinks against porcelain as you shiver while stirring your drink. The world itself seems blasted by cold, an empty waste of icy earth hard as iron, denuded of life.

But, oh, it is not. Had you eyes to see, you could behold the host of restless spirits moving across this chill tableau, a cloud of unsettled witnesses. Are you sure you want to know what have they seen? Because you are anything but alone. They can tell of the wayfarer huddled in the woods just over the hill whose red right hand turned against his brother. They can tell of the nameless thing that stalks him, desperate to slake its undying thirst. And they can tell of the quiet congregation accreting by your back door.
Come, turn the knob and let us tell you our stories…”
~Loren Eaton

Here’s my contribution…

It’s time once again for one of my favorite passtimes, telling Ghost Stories! Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightening Fall has provided a creepy, wonderful means for us to tell some good ones. The rules are simple, 100 words, no more, no less, and make it creepy!

“From your chair by the window, you can see snow sluicing down from a leaden sky, white on gray. The radiator ticks. The eaves creak. Metal clinks against porcelain as you shiver while stirring your drink. The world itself seems blasted by cold, an empty waste of icy earth hard as iron, denuded of life.

But, oh, it is not. Had you eyes to see, you could behold the host of restless spirits moving across this chill tableau, a cloud of unsettled witnesses. Are you sure you want to know what have they seen? Because you are anything but alone. They can tell of the wayfarer huddled in the woods just over the hill whose red right hand turned against his brother. They can tell of the nameless thing that stalks him, desperate to slake its undying thirst. And they can tell of the quiet congregation accreting by your back door.
Come, turn the knob and let us tell you our stories…”
~Loren Eaton

Here’s my contribution…

- See more at: http://www.rescuingprovidence.com/2014/12/19/where-is-santa/#sthash.vUCPGgnn.dpuf


It’s time once again for one of my favorite passtimes, telling Ghost Stories! Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightening Fall has provided a creepy, wonderful means for us to tell some good ones. The rules are simple, 100 words, no more, no less, and make it creepy!

“From your chair by the window, you can see snow sluicing down from a leaden sky, white on gray. The radiator ticks. The eaves creak. Metal clinks against porcelain as you shiver while stirring your drink. The world itself seems blasted by cold, an empty waste of icy earth hard as iron, denuded of life.

But, oh, it is not. Had you eyes to see, you could behold the host of restless spirits moving across this chill tableau, a cloud of unsettled witnesses. Are you sure you want to know what have they seen? Because you are anything but alone. They can tell of the wayfarer huddled in the woods just over the hill whose red right hand turned against his brother. They can tell of the nameless thing that stalks him, desperate to slake its undying thirst. And they can tell of the quiet congregation accreting by your back door.
Come, turn the knob and let us tell you our stories…”
~Loren Eaton

Here’s my contribution…

- See more at: http://www.rescuingprovidence.com/2014/12/19/where-is-santa/#sthash.vUCPGgnn.dpuf

“I always loved them.”
“Even when you were alive?”
“Even more.”

Bells chime exactly one mile behind them, muted by wind, lights blinking through the squall, a red dot shrouded by a blur of color.

“Hurry, we don’t have much time.”
“Is it always this crazy?”
“Every year.”

Onto the rooftop where few four legged creatures dare, through the roof; silent, just a wisp. Eyes watching, wary, interested. An ear cocks, a head tilts.

“Good dog, sleep now my sweet girl.”
“She seems content.”
“We did our job.”

Back into the night, where a million pets waited.

“Nobody bites Santa!”


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