Amusement Park

It was the toast of the small community. The talk of the town so to speak. The local amusement park. The swings, the lights, the Ferris wheel in full swing. Despite the fact that dozens of years before when an old homestead once dominated the property, and two children lost their lives in the battle of control over the land. Children would come from counties over just to enjoy the splendor. It was a typical day when Julia (name changed to protect identity) came to the park. Her favorite ride, the massive swings. She loved them so much that she would repeat the ride several times before venturing toward the concession stand to enjoy her favorite funnel cake. The swings sprung to life with their motorized groan, sending Julia into the air, round in circles. What everyone failed to notice was the concession truck that had pulled into the park. The swings spun with glee as Julia collided with the truck on her final spin. Her lifeless body hung from the swing as it came to a stop. The crowd in the little amusement park stood speechless over the tragedy that had just taken place. Shortly after Julia was laid to rest the park treated its last guests. Once the park was closed however, those who were left to tend the grounds were met with startling apparitions. The events that came to pass created a nightmare. The swings would move on their own. Lights in the now powerless buildings turned on. Even the Ferris wheel would move as though the power had not been cut. Who is to say if it is Julia or the two children who perished over a century ago but those who attempt to walk the grounds of the old amusement park certainly get what they came for.

It's Finished

She was the girl that you loved to hate. Tall, thin, perfect breasts, perfect teeth, perfect everything. She had everything that you ever wanted handed to her. Men went insane for her, woman wished they could be her. She was the modern Helen of Troy. No one knew who she was, only that she was. She had arrived in the village only a month ago, and her popularity sky rocketed. She seemed to have an answer to every question. And was able to recall anything that was told to her. She spoke like someone much older than she appeared to be, and maintained mannerisms that no longer seemed necessary in this day and age. Nobody minded however. But, when asked if she would join the morning mass, she would always have something that needed to be done, and have all of her attention lavished upon it. This began to raise some eyebrows. When time and again, more excuses passed her perfect lips. Many people became suspicious of the woman, even fear her. Why would she come here, and refuse to take part in mass? Especially when she wore a rosary tied to her belt, and declared more than once that she was a proud Catholic.

Another month passed and the once popular woman was forced to beg for attention. Though she did receive a few glances from passers by, she never received the gift of conversation. That is until one morning a priest came to her door. She wrapped her robe tightly around her thin frame and ambled down the stairs. "Hello father. Why may I ask are you here?" She leaned into the doorway, making sure that there was plenty of room between her and the priest. "If you are such a proud Catholic woman, you should be attending mass. May I come in?" The priest gave a loving smile, and she agreed to let him in. They walked into the living room, the woman took a seat on the overstuffed chair, while the priest sat down on the sofa. "I know who you are." The priest said without waiting. The woman raised her eyebrow. "Well then, who am I father?" She crossed her arms over her breasts. The priest reached into his robe and produced a photograph dated 1901 Venice Italy. "You are the woman in this photograph. At least you were. It is said that this woman was so angry that she was dying, that she sold her soul to the demons of hell to stay young. Now as I look at you, I see an unholy presence." The woman smirked and leaned in close to the priest. "Good work father. but what are you going to do about it? The body would die without me." Her voice had changed from the soft docile tone into a low pitched male voice. The priest stood and exposed his rosary, and started to pray. 

The demon laughed, bending the woman's neck to a horrible angle. The priest continued, holding firmly to his rosary. The demon stepped closer to the priest and ripped the rosary out of his hand.The prayers got louder, the demon shrieked, and began to bang the woman's head on the coffee table.The priest didn't even try to stop it. The body was dead. It was the soul that he was fighting for. By this time, some of the villagers began to peer through the windows. The shrieks were so loud that they could be heard for miles. The priest reached into his robes and pulled out a small vile of holy water. He pulled the cork from the vile, with his teeth, and splashed it on the woman's body. Finally, it stopped. The shrieks had been silenced, the body fell truly dead upon the floor. The priest let out a sigh of relief and began walking towards the door. His work was done. Then, he felt something, a pain in his stomach. He vomited, wiped his mouth and opened the front door. Villagers circled around the front stairs. All of them with shock in their eyes. The priest smiled an awkward smile, there was something different about him now, he couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt younger than ever. The villagers stepped in close to the priest, all of them asking questions. He raised his hands to quiet the crowd. "It's finished."

Copywrite 2009 A.E.Crawford "Tir"

I see you.

A friend and myself, had recently decided to go urban exploring. Looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It took us a couple of weeks, but we found it! An abandoned shop on the out skirts of the city. Neither of us had known about the place previously, we just stumbled acrossed it, while on the way to the park. We grabed our cameras and set out to photograph the decaying building. It was cold, and the ground was soggy, but we managed to wade our way there, leaving the car in a parking lot up the street. I began to take photos of the outside of the building. It couldn't have been built any later than the mid 70's. The curtains in the front windows where wide open, exposing the rot inside. I continued to take pictures, not paying attention to anything but what I was shooting. We entered the building through a hole in the wall, caused by collapsing brick. I continued to take pictures as we passed from what looked to be a chicken coop, then into the main building. As soon as we took our first step into the main building, it felt like there was one hundred eyes staring in our direction. It was an overwhelming feeling. I continued to snap pictures. We walked into the main store room and felt as if someone walked right passed us. Both of us shivered. We walked the grounds, me taking pictures of everything. I wound the film, one picture left, I asked my friend to pose infront of a window. I snaped the last picture and said my goodbyes to the building. The entire time, feeling eyes upon me.

We took the roll of film in for developing. As we waited we discussed what we had felt in that place. The feeling that we where not alone. An hour later, I picked up the newly developed pictures and flipped through them. To my surprise, three of the twenty seven frames, had something odd about them. First, were the pictures of the front windows, in one picture the curtains are open, the frame after that, they where shut. This sent a shiver down my spine, I hadn't noticed that when I was taking the pictures. But the picture that really got me, was the one of my friend infront of the window. There in the glass, clear as a person, is a person. Nobody was there besides us. We walked through the entire building. We where alone. But, the person was there, staring at me with terrifying eyes. I looked at the negative, and the same thing, a person. I asked the photo-shop guy if he had tampered with the film, his reply, no. I examined all of the film, I took the film to a friend who is a photographer, and has her own darkroom. Nobody could explain the person staring at me, as if to say "I see you."

(I never did go back to that building, and to tell you the truth, I really don't want to.)

The Doll

There are those who know. They see, they hear. Things we are scared of, they hold so dear. They watch glass eyes, that follow, they follow. Haunting voices, all seem too hollow. It whispers, they whisper, held to the reply. Whilst all the while watch glass eyes. They hold it so closely, it speaks and it sighs. While fragile sanity says it's goodbyes. 

Copywrite 2009 A.E.Crawford "Tir"

The Licker

This is a very, and I mean very popular story, it's always told the same way, and it has continued to send shivers up people's backs. Enjoy!

Melonie was a very lucky child, she had everything. Mountains of toys, popularity at school, and her favorite sheep dog, Adonis. Every night as Melonie lay down to sleep, Adonis would lick her hand, to assure her that she was being protected. One night Melonie laid down to sleep, and Adonis was not there. But she couldn't stay awake, she was too tired, so she curled up and fell asleep. She woke in the middle of the night, after having a bad dream and reached her hand over the edge of the bed, and Adonis licked her hand lovingly. She smiled and closed her eyes. When she woke in the morning the house was in chaos. Her mother was talking to the police, and her father was in the bathroom examining something. Melonie, didn't know what was going on, but apparently, her family had been robbed. And it had to be by someone that knew the family. Melonie didn't understand and went to talk to her father, who was still in the bathroom, now talking to a police officer about Adonis. Melonie squeezed through the doorway before her father could notice, and was met with a gruesome sight. Adonis, her beloved sheep dog was hung by his collar off the showerhead. His throat had been cut, and a message had been written on the wall in the dog's blood. It read: "Even humans can lick..."

The Mirror

This is a story that a friend had told me in high school, and young woman, have always had a facination with mirrors...

A young woman, let's call her Anne, was prepairing for her day, starting with the daily make-up routine. She loved it. First the eyeshadow, then the mascara, the blush, and so fourth. This was the first day of school and she had to look perfect. She straightened her hair, and brushed her teeth. Anne stopped, and stood up straight and smiled. Perfect. 

It was at the end of Anne's second semester when she experienced the first of many frightening things that would happen to her. She held the hall pass tightly in her hand, she needed to touch up, there was no way she could face her lab partner, looking the way she did. (She had a crush on him.) She pulled her lipstick out of her pocket, and reached into her purse to grab her comb. When she stood up, reflected in the mirror was a horrible image. A young woman, that looked like Anne, covered in blood, her mouth taped shut, her throat slashed. Anne screamed, dropped her things, and ran to the counselor's office. 

She thought that talking about it would help clear her mind. Wash away that horrible image. Anne was sent home for the rest of the day, and told to rest. When asked where her things where, she told them, in the bathroom. But she wouldn't go alone to fetch them. A hall monitor was sent with her, but she wouldn't enter the bathroom. After getting her things she walked to her car in the front parking lot. She knew that her nerves where frazzled. She opened the door, and sat down. She adjusted her mirrors and there in the back seat was the image, blood pooling onto the leather seats, eyes white and lifeless. She got out of the car and scribbled a note on a napkin. She left the note on her friend's car and started the three block walk home.

The image followed her from mirror to mirror. Even showing up in reflections. This lasted for a month, then, all at once it stopped as suddenly as they had started. It was the end of the semester. Her friends had planned a party to celebrate the end of the term. Anne was excited. The bell rang, and Anne and her friends made the final plan for that night's party. Anne returned home and changed her clothes, and put on her make-up. Fixed her hair, and kissed her parents goodbye. She assured them, that she wouldn't be drinking, and that she wouldn't come home past curfew...

It was three days after the party, when the police found Anne's body. She had been tied up, raped, and her throat had been cut. The duck tape stuck firmly to her lips. Her eyes wide open, white and lifeless. 

The Head

This story has been told in many communities, the earliest version appearing in the 1600's. Enjoy, my take on this classic ghost story!

A young man is walking home from a night after a long night at the local pub. He knew that he had one too many, and felt it was best to walk it off. The breeze was warm, despite it being October. He swerved and swayed his way down the side walks of the sleeping city. He knew that it had to be about one or so in the morning, so he had to deny the urge to sing at the top of his lungs. He giggled to himself, and stopped off in an alleyway to "bleed the lizard" so to say. When he looked up from the puddle of urine at his feet he noticed a woman coming down the alleyway towards him. She was wearing a "hoodie"the hood over her face. She was carrying what looked to be a rather large basket. The young man zipped up his pants and approached the young woman. "That looks heavy, may I carry that for you?" He slurred. The woman handed him the basket and they left the alleyway together. After they turned the corner he thought he heard a noise coming from the inside of the basket. The young man raised his eyebrow and as clever as he could opened the lid. Inside was a young woman's face staring back at him, laughing. The young man panicked and dropped the basket. The head rolled out, and began to bite at his ankles, and make a horrible gurgling noise. The young man began to run, he never would have thought that something like this could sober him up so quickly. But, then again, he never thought that he would have a run in with a ghost. The head continued to bounce and roll after him, biting him where ever it could. The young man ran up onto his porch, opened his front door, and slammed it behind him. He looked around at the floor around his feet, nothing. He left out a sigh, and went to the window, there in the front lawn was the headless young woman, her head biting and gargling on the grass beside her. 

The young man closed the curtains and went upstairs to bed, in the morning he woke with a smile. Last night must have been a bad dream. Then he looked at his legs, and they were covered in bite marks.