My BFF's Aunt is a Monster

I want to write scary again, soon.

I am in the thick of revising (nay, rewriting) my historical novel, and I keep wanting to put ghosts in. Alas, its plot won't have any in the way of ghosts unless I put in a nightmare scene.

Anyway, about this story itch.

I keep thinking back to this trip I made with my girlfriends between high school and college. What if my BFF's aunt was a monster?

Mmm.

Haunted?

This past Friday, my family and I went to see a house built in 1907. (We are looking for horse property, and this house sits on nearly two acres in the old section of our small town.)

I held no high hopes for this light-yellow two-story house. The brick around the foundation looked like it was crumbling or sagging. A lone, overgrown pine tree was its only front yard accent. A black cat provided color and life in an otherwise bland facade. We walked around the grounds first as another realtor was showing the house, and peered into the crawl space towards the back of the house. (A perfect place for a child to hide and discover something terrifying.) There was a shed labeled "Danger: Chlorine Gas" with a metal container for "Gas Masks".

But inside was something else. It made me think of pioneer houses in the memorial parks in downtown Salt Lake City. Lovely and possibly - with the help of my overactive imagination -haunted.

***
There was a spacious entry with hardwood polished to a high sheen. There were french doors on both sides. To the right was a front room with a carved fireplace mantle in gorgeous wood and framed with painted tile. To the left was a dining room with a built in china hutch and another ornate fireplace. From the dining room, you go into the kitchen, which, for an older home, felt spacious, with modern-day amenities; no original wood stove.

To the back of the house, a more recent occupant added onto the building with a rectangular family/work room which is probably where they did laundry because there were water hook-ups. The room smelled of turpentine because of the various paints and stains being stored there. (Mmm, or maybe there was a former occupant who painted at the first light of dawn or late into the evening by candle night?)

There was one bedroom downstairs. I loved the bathroom, with its clawed bathtub and tall ceiling. It reminded me of a bathroom we had in the Philippines when we rented this old Spanish house.

As we went upstairs through this narrow stairway, a musty smell overpowered me and gave me goose bumps. There was a plant ledge at the turn of the stairs in front of a window. The three bedrooms upstairs all had interesting shapes that followed the sloping roof line. There was also an attic, where one could keep an insane relative under watch from a servant (a la Jane Eyre). One door led to the house addition's roof, which was spongy under our step and led to an unrailed edge which was a good drop to the lawn below.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't really a haunted house, but I already decided I want this house as a setting for a ghost story someday.

Scare The Dickens Out Of Us

Have you heard of the "SCARE THE DICKENS OUT OF US" short story contest 2010? It is a contest sponsored by the Clark Library Friends

$20 ENTRY FEE First prize, $1,000 and a trophy.Second prize, $500 and a ribbon. Third prize, $250 and a ribbon.Junior contest prize $250 and a trophy.

The contest is a Friends of the Dr. Eugene Clark Library fundraiser and is privately funded. All entry fees go to the Friends and are used for library projects. The contest is open to published and unpublished writers alike. The ghost story must be 5,000 words or less, in English, and typed double-spaced. Deadline October 1, 2010.

From Hope Clark's Fund For Writers

Dead Dizzy Lizzy for Class Pet

Here's a short story I wrote for and shared with my fourth grade daughter's class. There's a dead lizard in it, so I figured it could go in my horror blog.

(Dead) Dizzy Lizzy for Class Pet

Mrs. W’s fourth grade students wanted to keep a dead lizard for a class pet.

They had this lizard, see. Her name was Dizzy Lizzy and she lived in an aquarium on the shelf which the sun hits nicely in the afternoon. She had purple streaks along her cheeks, a yellow line on her back, and little teeth that seemed to smile when someone gave her a cricket. She got her name because whenever she got excited running after crickets, she twirled round and round until people watching got dizzy.

But she died.

Maybe she was lonely. Maybe she ate too many crickets one day. Maybe she got too cold the week it rained all day, every day and no one hardly saw the sun.

They were going to take her out of the aquarium to bury her in the school yard, but S. – who always says hi to stray cats and gives her dogs treats under the dinner table when she thinks her parents aren’t looking – said, “Please, can we still keep her as the class pet?”

At first, her classmates looked at her funny. Her best friend N. even giggled about it. But soon, everyone was nodding – what a great idea! – and turned to look expectantly at Mrs. Walker.

Mrs. W. said, “I don’t know. Let’s ask Mr. B.”

Mr. B was the school principal. Mr. B usually walked around doing important things with an important look on his face. And sometimes the kids didn’t want to bother him about questions like “Can we keep a dead lizard as a class pet?” because he seemed too busy to bother. Today was a hard day to bother him because it was photo day and he had spent all morning with the photographer after a student jammed a camera with a piece of chewed gum.

But they were already standing as a class in his doorway. Mr. B looked up from his desk and of course asked what he could do for them.

Someone pushed S. forward. She finally said, after three unsuccessful tries, “Please, can we keep Dizzy Lizzy in our classroom?”

Mr. B’s smile froze on his face. “Are we talking about a student?”

Fortunately, Mrs. W explained. But Mr. B still looked puzzled. “A dead lizard?” he asked.

Everyone nodded.

Mr. B leaned back and thought about it. Then thought about it some more. Finally, he plucked a book from his shelf and opened it up. He said, “I am sorry, but according to school rules, ‘Only live pets are allowed.’”

All the kids walked back so slowly and sadly that by the time they reached the classroom, they missed recess. They all crowded around the aquarium to say goodbye to their dear Dizzy Lizzy. But when they got there, the aquarium was empty. A nearby window was open, Mrs. W’s water bottle was tipped over on its side and there was a gum wrapper on the floor.

Whatever could have happened?!

The Next Time I Lie

At a recent campout with girls from our church (I was one of the leaders), we gathered around the camp fire to exchange scary stories. Most of the others' stories had to do with intruders or sounds in the night.

I told them, "I have a story," and proceeded to tell them in essence, the first chapter of my novel "Ghost Moon Night". Everyone hung on to my every word, and then I revealed that I was fibbing. Someone asked, did you just make that up? I said, no.

It worked once, I don't know if it'll work again, the next time I say, "I have a scary story to tell..."

I feel obligated to reveal next time if I am making the story up, or if it's real. But what's the fun in that?

From the Dead

I have resurrected my YA paranormal novel Ghost Moon Night. Taken it out of the crypt and sent it out again to haunt an editor whom I met recently at a writer's conference. I tweaked it some, but otherwise, let the first three chapters stand as is.

I had shown her my first chapter of a historical novel, and though she loved it, she doesn't represent that genre. And then it occurred to me, listening to her presentation, hey, she represents paranormal!

It took me two days to figure this out.

So I asked her if she would look at my ms. She said, sure, send me first three chapters. Normally, she doesn't even look at ms without an agent's blessing. So the conference has been a great foot in the door.

Now I wait.

Too Happy

I have a little problem.

It's spring, I am eating pastel M&Ms, baby calves are running in farm fields around town...

...and I am not in the mood to write horror.

I'm too happy.

My latest novel is waiting for edits and then submission to agents, and I am thinking of tackling my "coconut" horror novel.

What I really would rather do is to run down to a beach somewhere and sip coconut under the shade of an umbrella.