Museum Fright part 2

“Come to me.” 

Instinct had me grabbing for the gate. I felt a strange current where ever I touched the metal. Things looked clearer, the light less dim. The shadows of the statues seem to be shrinking, less threatening. 

“Shannon, honey, I need you. Won’t you come stand by me?” 

My thoughts raced, if she touched the gate would whatever possessed her leave. I tried to remember the stories dealing with magic and metal. Something about cold iron canceling out magic. I hesitated, what if it made it worse. 

I gripped the gate harder. “Babes I’m getting lonely by myself.” keep it light, I thought, flirt with her. 

“Mac? What’s going on I don’t feel so good.” Shannon sounded like Shannon.

“Come stand beside me Babes. The fresh air will make you feel better.” 

She took a couple of steps towards me. I started to relax when I noticed her eyes shinning red in the light. Her steps were a little off balance. Her stride brought her closer and she started to grin. That grin was more of a teeth baring snarl.

“That’s it Babes. Just a little farther and you will feel better.” I hope, I thought it but didn’t say it. I searched her face for the woman I knew and loved. Shadows danced hiding then revealing parts of her. 

She leaned into me, her skin was icy. I started to let go of the gate. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and protect her. Something held me back, a warm trickle from the side of my neck. 

“Shannon are you okay? Talk to me Babes.” Pain slammed into my body. 

“The sacrifice is ready.” Her lips were wet. I felt my strength fading. 

                 To Be Continued

 

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Museum Fright

“Come on. The museum is closing in thirty minutes.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward revolving doors.

“Babes you know this is your thing, not mine.” 

She threw me a look over her shoulder before dashing through the doors and out of sight. I sighed and followed her. The museum was dark and cool after the glare of the day. A guard nodded at me and pointed toward a exhibit hall to the left. I nodded my thanks and set off in pursuit of my wife. 

The exhibit was dimmer than the main hall with spot lights illuminating the various exhibits. Some where near the back of the gallery I found her entranced in front of three statues. 

“Okay Babes. I’m here. They’re great let’s go.” 

“Shush. Just watch the shadows.”

I glanced up. Everything seemed normal, a shiver traced up my spine. The shadow of the middle figure was leaning to the statue on the left. I looked at the exhibit, nothing had changed they were standing straight in a line. I looked back up and swallowed hard. The left shadow was caressing the middle shadow. While the right statue had turned to face them. 

“Babes come on. Funny but let’s go.” I touched her shoulder and she snarled. I backed away, her face was different. I felt the stares of the shadows and statues, my hair was standing on end. 

“You would leave before the sacrifice” Her voice was husky and dark, old and not hers. 

“Shannon enough let’s go. Now. This isn’t right.” 

A jangle of keys caught my attention, and the scream of a metal gate shocked me into shouting. 

“Hey wait. We are still in here. Hey come back.” I jogged towards the gate, the lights dimmed and went dark. I rattled the gate, “Hey is anyone there?” 

The jingle of keys and footsteps echoed, the guard appeared in the gloom. “Funny I thought I heard somthing.” 

I rattled the gate, “Here. I’m right here.” 

The guard jumped staring at the gate. “Creeping bloody statues. They say the gates are to keep people out. I think they are trying to keep something in.” He turned and walked quickly away. He didn’t look back.

I looked towards Shannon, she was backlit by the only remaing light in the hall. There was something off putting about the way she stood, I glanced to the ceiling. A fourth shadow, her shadow had joined the three. Anticipation filled the air. Sweat ran down my back.

“Come to me. The sacrafice is ready.” She called to me in that old dark alien voice. My feet started to move as I fought to stay by the gate. 

                  To Be Continued….. 

52 Questions in 52 Weeks

My first exposure to the 52 Questions in 52 weeks came via the Innovative Journaling Facebook group. (If you journal and like pens of any type I recomend this group. They are a hoot.) One of the members waa starting the challenge and asked if anyone else was doing it. Several folks like asked what it was. 

There are 52 queations relating to your life, family history and other interesting tidbits. It provides a really good starting place for folks that are interested in writing down their family history. Questions range from earliest memories, things you enjoyed from your childhood, advice for future generations, how you met your spouse and other stuff. Anyway you pick a question you want to answer and take a week to write the answer. As little or as much as you like. This isn’t all inclusive just a starting point. 

I have later found several blog posts about and each one has a similar backstory. The person wanted to record the family history before it was lost through death or disease. One IJ-er took a journal and that sole journal is for the challenge. I am in this same boat. Three of my grandparents have passed and my remaining grandmother is lost in Alzheimer’s fog. As I have watched her and my nieces and nephews, I realized they don’t her pre-Alzheimer. By recording my memories it may give them a glimpse of her when she was healthy. 

I admit I keep reading over the questions and yet I haven’t put pen to paper. I get all twisted and tongue tied when I start to write down even thw simplest question; Where does your name come from? 

Well I know Mom told me that my great grandfather didn’t like my name and said he would have named me Pamela, if he had known my parents didn’t have a proper name for me. According to Dad my first name came from the daughter of a man whose horse farm he worked on while in the military. I have never really asked my Mom where my first name come from. My middle name was supposed to be a mix of Linda and Jeanette ie Lynnette. But as the story goes when the nursw asked Mom she was half asleep and gave Lynn. So thosw are the stories O have heard related to my name. I was almost a Pamela Lynnette and I mean no disrepect to the Pamela Lynnettes of the world, but that isn’t me. In my mind’s eye, a Pamela Lynnette is a strong, willowy blonde or red headed lady, graceful and at home in her own skin. Me, I’m a short round lil brunette that lives in her head more than she should. Exrovert vs inrovert. 

Well look a there I guess I just answered the first question. One down 51 to go. Cheers on this post Harvest Moon Friday, james

Godsgrave by Jay Kristoff

A couple months ago I blogged about Nevernight, a thrilling creepy novel by Jay Kristoff. Mr. Kristoff has now released the sequel Godsgrave. 

I haven’t gotten my mits on a copy yet so this is a shameless plug for what promises to be a great trilogy. I have to admit the ending of Nevernight pleased and puzzled me. So I am hoping Godsgrave answers those questions. 

Update: I couldn’t wait to get a copy of Godsgrave so I downloaded the sample. Oh. My. The sample is the first couple of chapters. We catch up with Mia and through flash backs find a little of what she’s been up to since Nevernight. And my, my, it hasn’t been pretty. Mr. Kristoff my hat is off to you. I have to get a hard copy of both. These books draw me in and grab me and won’t turn loose. Well done sir. Well done.

Okay shameless plug over. Cheers on this autumn evening. james

Weird Dreams

I think my subconscious is plotting a new story or working kinks out of a current project. Why would I think that? You ask. Because my dreams have been weird lately. And when my dreams get that way I write them down. Sometimes during the recording, those dream fragments take on new life and become a story. As to where the dream last night goes or fits I don’t know, yet. 

Lawrence Block writes in several of his books on writing about “training your brain”, namely your subconscious to develop plots while you sleep. Hmmm love this idea. He theorizes if you devour books and authors you have a passion for you can develop mental memory of how that type of story is put together.

For example romance, back in the day I would read four and five romance novels at a time. I trained my brain on what elements make a romance novel a romance novel. And as I result my writing has some of tbe romance flavor to it. Or it feels that way. Now I read more fantasy and mystery and those elements are slowly blending into my writing. As my writing is influenced so to are my dreams. I do wonder how long it takes to train a brain.

So I am off to see what strange journey my brain has in store tonight. Cheers, james

Proofreading

On Facebook I am friends with an up and coming author, Liam Reese. After reading “A Huntman’s Fate”, the prequel to his soon to be released new book. He sent out an inquiry about interest in joining his Proofreading Club. I was intriqued and I signed up. Now don’t get all excited, volunteer status only and there is a whole passel of us doing it. However it has rekindled a small spark of the joy I find in writing. Yes, I know editing and proofing is a royal, but necessary pain. I once read it is easier to read and learn from bad writing than good writing. Now I am not saying this author is bad. In fact I have quite enjoyed his writing style and stories. By helping him, I help myself become a better writer. 

Showing is hard, telling is so much easier and yet it sticks out when you can see first hand in a work in progress. Once you can see it and understand it, it becomes easier to spot in your own writings. Or would be if I wasnt’t hiding from them by blogging. 

If you are interested in a new fantasy author check out Liam Reese and A Huntman’s Fate. He is on Facebook and is a nice feller. Also I will suggest checking out Sean Hinn and his Epic Fantasy FB group. They are a hoot and full of great book suggestions.

Cheers, james

Journaling 

I have been spending more and less time with my journals lately. My commonplace/everything journal is almost empty. I get an idea and it doesn’t seem to make it into my journal. On the other hand my personal journal is getting more attention. Dreams, thoughts and life take up its creamy pages. 

On the other hand my blogging ideas seem to have dried up. I have started at least four posts over the last six months and abandoned them. I have been battling Stress for the last few months and it has taken a toll on this blog, my writing and me. Putting these words down, I can feel something shift inside my head. Maybe I can finally pull myself from this hole and get back into regular schedule and writing. 

Cheers, james