View allAll Photos Tagged bumpinthenight
..... Is it a monster? Is it a monster?
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Listen to the brilliant 'Is It A Monster?' by Automatic
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...and he's in the need for the taste of fresh blood....
*actually... the truth is that I created this this for Halloween..but got so busy in RL I didn't post it...so better late than never I guess?
But it was fun to do. Hope you like it.. and sorry for the blood and gore..but hope it looks more 'Scooby Doo' than anything too scary.
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If anyone is interested in doing a photo collaboration with me...then what are you waiting for...message me...or say hello 'in world'.... I actually don't like blood and gore that much, so we can do a nice tame picture :)
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Hey, you all wannna go down to Devil Gate Drive? Well, come on...
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Devil Gate Drive by Suzi Quatro
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A big hell of a thank you to Tilly Firehawk for doing the picture with me and for your patience...hope you didn't burn your ass too much on those flames from hell??....
If anyone is interested in doing a photo collaboration with me...then what are you waiting for...message me...or say hello 'in world'....
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Down in Devil Gate Drive
When they reach their teens,
That's when they all get mean
Down in Devil Gate Drive
When she was sweet sixteen
she was the jukebox queen
Down in Devil Gate Drive
I lead the angel pack on the road to sin
Knock down the gates!
Let me in. Let me in
Well your mama don't know where your sister done go
She goes down to the Drive. She's the star of the show
Down in Devil Gate Drive
Down in Devil Gate Drive
So come alive. Come alive
Down in Devil Gate...down in Devil Gate
Down in Devil Gate Drive
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Jinkies! Jeepers!..... Get me out of here...
Where's Scooby-Doo and the Gang when you need them???
See the spirits 'rise' at the ever-so-spooky Arranmore, where you’re guaranteed to get a ‘bump in the night'. YIKES!!
Can you solve the mystery of my 'RISING SPIRIT'???
♫♫ There's a chill in the air
You hear a creek on the stair
You got a knock on your door
Is there anybody out there?
You cannot run
And you cannot hide
Yea you gotta face it baby things go bump in the night
Where ever you run and where ever you hide
Yea you gotta face it baby things go bump bump bump in the night! ♫♫
Song/Video:
Visit Arranmore in Second Life:
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Aridia/63/131/23
Arranmore Flickr Group:
We all have good side ... and a bad side...., and there's definitely a very very good side, and a very, very bad side to me...
it's almost here... that spooky day of the year when ghostly spirits come to visit! A bump in the night, a creaky staircase... suddenly a cold icy daft is felt then it's a ghostly presence that's none other than Haunted Beauty!
Photographed in the Regent Miniatures Mansion by Ken Haseltine (www.regentminiatures.com.)
Was available through www.barbiecollector.com/ but she is now Sold Out!.
I believe she was up on their site for less than three weeks total.
Gold Label®
Designed by: Bill Greening
Release Date: 10/11/2012
Haunted Beauty Ghost™ Barbie® wears an ethereal, off-white gown featuring fitted bodice, bell sleeves, and full skirt with tattered hem. A silvery earthly chain wraps around her body. Her long, pale platinum hair and dramatic face paint take her far beyond the paranormal to extraordinary!
Photo/Graphic Layout & web site regentminiatures.com by www.stevemckinnis.com.
Cheguei ontem em casa, fui passar o feriado com meus pais e foi maravilhoso.
Acabei não trocando de esmalte e voltei com muita vontade de usar algum esmalte bem bonito, aproveitei que a etapa do desafio chocolate é MMs e corri fazer uma Mix and Match.
Os esmalte usados foram:
Dedão e mindinho com Bump in the night da China Glaze;
Anelar com Preto Gráfico Fosco da Colorama carimbado com estampa de uma placa da Bundle Monster Festival usando o Prata Lunar da Hits;
Indicador e médio com o 24 Karat Diamond da F.U.N. Lacquer.
Gostei muito do Bump in the night, foram duas camadas e ele encrespou perfeitamente, dessa vez usei o 24 Karat puro, sem esmalte de base, foram 4 camadas para a cobertura total da unha e no anelar usei meu preto predileto, cobertura com uma camada carregada. ❤
and in the depths of the chaos you wake up screaming. Your heart is pounding, having just dropped from great heights. You are falling back to reality with a clatter and you are welcome for the light relief of the slap against your conscience. Sleep is no longer a refuge. It's the thirteenth consecutive time you've awoken in the early hours due to a bump in the night. You wonder what is following you, and what it means. Your eyes are too wide to sleep again, and it'll be another day with blue circles beneath them.
022/365
It's that time of year again when we start telling ghost stories, If I were creative enough I would make some up, and tell you one, but since I am not all your getting is this picture!
The story Below is derived partially from actual occurrences experienced ( sadly,not by me) with- in the house pictured above
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To Quote:
“Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone."
…The Haunting of hill house by Shirley Jackson
Unlike Shirley Jacksons story, the house haunting events written below, although a bit fictionalized, are all based on actual experiences. Not my own( to my chagrin), but by others I have had the pleasure to know personally enough that they have confided them to me.
The house described actually exists, but, although by my opinion it has every rite to be haunted, has never given up its ghosts to anyone yet. The events depicted in this chronicle have actually occurred at several different houses, all quite old, all located in the same general area.
The story below may not be an incredibly horrific ghost story….but then, when supernatural things got bump in the night in real life, it does not necessarily have to be….. now does it?
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A bit of a prologue…
It took me some time to be able to write my story down, the experiences I had had while staying at the old Froes house.
Since I am not a writer ( of stories) and seeing that I had already recorded the events that occurred in me Journal, I decided to approach the subject that way….
A friend of mine while in college had rented an old house with a group of friends. One night she was alone with the dog of a roommate, ( a quite friendly German Shepard named Barron).
The dog , who had been layin next to my friend, suddenly raised its head and baring his teeth, uncharacteristically started to snarl, his hair raising up. Barron was looking towards the stairway leading to the upstairs bedrooms. My friend looked over there,and as she did, heard small footsteps moving back up the stair, and at the same time, a small wisp of shadow appeared to move out of sight.
Rising she went up the stairs, as she did, Barron came to the bottom landing, and barked, causing my fiend to jump out of her skin, so to speak. My friend, her heart now pounding, started to go up, motioning Barron to follow. But Barron refused, laying down and actually starting to whimper as she gave the command. My friend at this point heard, quite distinctly, a pair of small feet and a set of larger ones, moving quickly along the hallway upstairs. My friend went up, turned on all the lights but saw nothing in the corridor. She also failed to find or heard anything out of the ordinary in any of the 4 bedrooms, or single loo, that were built off the corridor. She went back downstairs to Barron, who was lying to the foot, still whimpering. She petted the dog, as she looked back up the stairs, wondering what it had all been about.
Later, the landlord heard of the story, and confessed that the old house they were staying at one time had a small wing off the main bedrooms that had burned to the ground. That wing had had a loft bedroom, and 3 people perished in that room, a grandmother, and her two young grandchildren. He couldn’t ( or wouldn’t) say if there had been any previous unearthly activates witnessed by anyone.
Despite the above, me friend to this day still does not believe in ghosts, but is unable to explain the experience rationally.
As for me, I used to agree with her feelings on the subject, until………………..
Part 1
October 8, 19__ 7:00 Friday early evening
It appeared that fall was coming early this year. Today had been blustery, overcast, and cool. Leaves were already starting to die and turn.
I meandered up along the cobblestone path that followed the rutty road that led off the main street. I had left me car parked in a small lot on the corner. It would be safe there, I had no company for several Kilometres in either direction. I had driven here directly after work, traveling the 110 kilometre’s in just under 2 hours
I approached the house, stopping at the foot of the stone steps that led up , it had been awhile, and I let the distant memories come back. I stared up at the house that dominated the small hill upon which it had been built . Hill House I thought, remembering a bit of the title from a book in me fathers small library. It was a ghost story book, and as such, I never bothered to read it past the opening paragraph. My feelings about ghosts at the time being that they really do not exist outside people’s somewhat overactive imaginings.
The house in looming above me had stood for over 110 years ,built by Jacob Froes, a great uncle of ours. Old Jacob had been a brooding sort of man, or so I had heard tell, him having died 15 years before my brother and I had been born. But he had definitely built a brooding sort of house, with many crooked corridors, and small rooms, all of which had shutting or sliding doors to keep the heat in. All the rooms still were furnished with old style gas lighting, small lamps on the walls that liked to cast shadows in the rooms that they were hung. The plentiful oak woodwork was very heavily scrolled and decorated with wooden roses and petals, all done by old Jacob, along with most of the houses furniture. I mention the woodworking, for as a young girl, I had thought the roses looked like small shadowy faces, some of them not very pleasant looking, and the thorns looked like spiked teeth waiting to tear and devour one up. Needless to say, the house at that time of my life, gave me the creeps. As did all its occupants at the times I had visited.
There were three of them still living in the house at that time. Three of the six children of the late Jacob and Adelaide Froes.
Jacob had been 45 and a Batchelor, living in the house he had been building and furnishing since he was 25. Twenty long years later he had finished it to his liking. It was then that Jacob decided it was time to start a family. He courted Adelaide, a sheltered 23 year old second cousin still living out in the far country with her family. It was an 8 hour ride by buggy, so it was a long distance courtship.
Once Married, Jacob took Adelaide from her family, and quite soon they started one of their own in the house he had built. They brought forth 6 children into this world, the first 5 ( 2 girls, 3 boys) born in in a period just shy of 5 years. The burdens of bearing and taking care of so many children, in such a short period, all by her young self( apparently Jacob was always working in his basement shop) and added to that her homesickness at being so far away from her family home, cost poor Adelaide her health, and ultimately, after bearing her six child 2 years later, her remaining sanity.
With her mother, In and out of sanatoriums for the rest of her shortened life, it fell upon the eldest daughter, the all of 8 year old Frances, to take over the majority of the responsibilities of raising her siblings. One or another of Adelaide’s sisters did come and stay a spell to help out also for the first few years, but eventually their own Family commitments took precedence and poor Frances was eventually left on her own, to be helped mainly by her younger sister Mary, to care for the youngest four, all boys….
The family had no near neighbours, and lived pretty much an isolated existence, with themselves as company; the 6 children, their frail, wasting away mother Adelaide, and their anti-social, strict church going father Jacob. It should come as no surprise that, that the children took on the characteristics of their parents, all were sullen, lifeless and obedient to a fault. None of em ever dated, or married. After their parents passed on, four of them, the two daughters, and the two youngest sons, lived in the same old stone house together in strained harmony. The two oldest boys would have probably followed suit, but their young lives were tragically cut short in the battle trenches of World War 1 France.
In the dead of winter, 5years after their father Jacob had passed on,, second youngest son, Stephen, packed his bags and left the house one misty morning never to return. He had walked the 4 miles to the small terminal in town, bought a bus ticket to somewhere and was never heard from again. His sisters had found pamphlets about gold prospecting in Alaska, and as they grumbled about how stupid he was to have left, it wasn’t hard to understand at how, at the age of fifty, he had had enough of the constant bickering and complaining that left an unhappy air about the musty old place, and had sought solitude elsewhere.
And so, my earliest recollections of the house and its inhabitants was of the three, Frances, Mary, and Joseph. Joseph, as the youngest, was well into his seventies at the time. Three sourly cranky, unhappy souls. Not a happy family atoll, and not a happy house to be spending time in, even just for a visit while my uncle worked on maintaining the house for them( which, being a relative, he never received more compensation than a grumbled thank you.) Me brother ,Cousin Jesse and I were usually dragged along on Uncles excursions, to keep the “occupants” occupied and out of his hair. The two sisters had been teachers until their retirement, and took great pleasure in having us read to them, happily correcting any errors we made. Not sure what Jacob had done for his living, for he never talked much, just sat in a corner working on his stamps, smoking his smelly pipe, and getting yelled at by his two cackling spinster sisters.
The trio never updated the house much, leaving it as their father had built it. They had one car ( now an antique still sitting in a side yard) between the three of them, but I only ever saw them walk anywhere they went. Which was just to town for food or Sunday Service.
It was during one of the walks back from Sunday mass that a car, taking a corner too fast, lost control and ran into the 3 of them. Mary took the brunt of it, and for the last 3 years of her life became an invalid, much like her mother had been, finally passing on in her bed at the age of 90. Two years later, Old Joseph was found sitting on one of the garden benches by the victory garden he still kept, pipe clenched between his teeth, still smouldering, paralyzed by a stroke at the age of 86, he was sent to an infirmary to live out the last of his days, which as of this writing had not yet ocurred.. So Frances, the oldest child, and oldest living resident of the creepy old house, had dwelt on in solitude, passing on the night of her birthday, some four years later, at the age of 101. She died in her bed, in the house she had been born in and had lived her whole life. She had been dead 3 days they figured, before my cousin Jesse, who had made it a habit to check on her once a fortnight or so, found her cold lifeless form.
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These were me thoughts as I stood there looking up at the dark house where I would be spending the next four days until the Funeral for Frances would take place.
I would be alone for at least the first night, which had not bothered me at the time! Me uncle was away on business, and would not be there until the funeral. Me brother was still away on something called a honeymoon, the selfish prig! Jesse had other matters to attend to and would be joining me as soon as he was able. And so here I was, standing there in the ever darkening twilight, thinking me random thoughts…
Quite suddenly those thoughts were rudely interrupted as I realized a light had turned on in one of the upper front rooms, and a black shadow, unmoving, appeared to be looking down at me from the room’s partially curtained window.
Jesse! I thought, you’re here! He had asked me to come down to spend the time with him, did not want to be alone in the house. But he had rang and told me the night before that he couldn’t make it till Sat Afternoon, and would I be a dear and watch the house till then , leaving me alone! I reluctantly agreed, for I found the house dark and creepy, but at least the Body had been removed from the mourning parlour, I had made sure of that.
My heart racing in pleasure I ran up the stairs and turned the knob of the great oak front door. It was still locked, I ponded over for a sec, and then used me skeleton key and opened it. Oui, Jesse Im Here I yelled happily, but me words were met by dead silence, broken up as my shouts echoed through the large , fast darkening house.
The stairway to the second floor was just off to the side of the long entrance way. I went to the landing and yelled up, Hey lad, didn’t ya hear me. I heard my voice echo a bit upstairs and through the corridor above. I sat down me bag, and took the stairs two at a time, thinking this was no time for teasing. Apparently, it was I thought to me self, for when I reached the upstairs landing and turned towards the room I had seen the figure standin in, the lights were now out, but the figure still stood in front of the window, just visible in the fading light from outside. Very funny Jess I scolded, I can still see you standing in front of that window, so what games are you playin at now lad, I said admonishingly as I turned on the switch. As the room was lit up and I saw clearly what was standing in front of the window, I jumped back with a startled scream.
End Of part 1
to be continued …..
10-31-12
Portland, Oregon USA
Home Bass, Visual Assault Crew, & P.N.F.A.(Pacific Northwest Friendship Association) Presents
STICK OR TREAT
A Halloween Themed artshow!
Open call for art!!!
Rules for submitting art
1.Send in stickers!!!!!
2.We dont want HUGE packs of all the same things! Put some love into it and make it scary!!!!
3.We are taking Limited submissions for Artwork(that means painting, prints, installs etc)
Private message me if you are interested in submitting artwork or email me here skamsticker@yahoo.com
4.Dont just send in paintings they have to be approved by myself or the other curators of the show.
(If they dont follow these rules they will be rejected from the approval process.)
5.(DEADLINE):10-26-12
Send your work here
Stick or Treat
po box 13492
Portland, OR 97213 USA
The event will be on halloween and anyone is welcome to come and put up stickers for the sticker installation. Get dressed up. Have fun! We are going to have live music, Costume contests, Games, Candy,Carved Pumpkins, Laughs, stickers and alot of FUN!!!!!!!
(Logo Designed by SKAM & Dr,Rasterbator)
Artists Involved
SKAM
Mr.Say
Rx Skulls
Davey Cadaver
Cthulhu
Kanye
Dr. Rasterbator
Narboo
13FNGRS
Starheadboy
Love Bomb
Magical
Idle
Jice
Ace Troy
Matt Schlosky
Obit
I Will Not
Zoltron
SMOG CITY
Kater
Andres Musta
Princess Daddy
The Lost Cause
Penpointred
Dead Red
Derp
ESKIMO
Your DUM
Mad one
Voxx
Always
Just One
Skrumpy
Kater
FREND
MUTE THE CITY
A.bot
SHROOM
Ms.Elmar
t.t.w.w.w.
RID
Idle
JICE
STASHR
SIGHT
MISTAMEN
SMOR
ZIPOS
MESH
Filth.Grime
Question Josh
El Toro
Smite
SHEEP
Eyesore
Evoker
Totske
FELN
Ceito
DDBOOM
I4GOT
ANDI
All C
Valda
CEXR
Rek607
Narcoze
SPIRE
Barek
[Desafio das 31 Unhas] Unha 22 - Inspirada por uma Música
Em Janeiro de 2012 decidi fazer o Desafio das 31 Unhas e na época muitas outras meninas fizeram também. Depois disso, prometi a mim mesma que repetiria o Desafio novamente mais para frente... 3 anos depois, aqui estou XD
Estava pensando em fazê-lo em Janeiro mesmo, mas resolvi esperar o começo das aulas, para que as unhas fossem "melhor aproveitadas". Dessa vez vou tentar diferente, vou tentar fazer uma por dia, como no Desafio original gringo, vamos ver se consigo... Torçam por mim :P
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E a coisa vai ficando mais e mais difícil... Eu sou o tipo de pessoa que sempre que anda de carro sozinha, vai o caminho inteiro escutando música e cantando junto. Então foi complicado escolher uma única música, mas eis que...
A música escolhida foi Ich Tu Dir Weh, de uma das minhas bandas favoritas, Rammstein *____*
Gosto no nível comprar os CDs, DVDs e ir a show XD
Basicamente, se Anastasia assistisse ao clipe e lesse a tradução desta música, acharia Sr. Grey uma flor :P
Vamos aos esmaltes?
Fiz uma mistureda e usei:
Dedão - Bump in the Night
Indicador - Push and Shove
Médio - Push and Shove + Uninhibited + cobertura fosca
Anelar - Liquid Leather + Pailleté
Mínimo - Liquid Leather
O anelar foi em homenagem ao Flake e sua roupitcha toda briosa :P
Ele brilha muito e dessa vez aparece em vídeo!!! Mais precisamente no vídeo da minha coleção de esmaltes (Sim!!! Finalmente um vídeo atualizado!!!)
Escolhi esses esmaltes porque achei que combinam bastante com a temática e o clipe, sejam em seus nomes sejam em seus acabamentos.
P.S. Sim, o Till (vocalista) realmente fez um furo na bochecha para poder passar o fiozinho do led. Então a luz que sai da boca e vocês estão vendo é de verdade!
Some Legends refuse to Die
Axe Murder Hollow is located in an area of Thomas Road between Sterrettania Road and California Drive, by the old Weiss library, than at the bottom of the first big dip you will find the hollow. There you'll find the burned out foundations of a small home. (Not anymore, though. We've been told that plot was the last site sold in the housing project that's sprung up in the area.)
A rock path from there will lead you to a creek with a tree stump near its' bank.
A jealous husband who suspected his wife of cheating on him with a farmhand chased her down that path and beheaded her with an axe on that stump. Then man went crazy and taking the axe, killed his entire family. Burying the bodies, never to be found, it is said that the man grew old alone with nothing but the continuous haunting from the spirits of his daughter and wife who visited him regularly to torment him. One cold dark night he could take no more and began running through the house after the ghosts of the 2 females, chasing them again with an axe, screaming and going wild. As he ran out the back door of the house he had forgotten in the haste that the edge of the cliff was just feet from the door itself, falling to his death. While they found the body of the man, mangled and chopped with the axe that was laying beside him, they never found the bodies of the young girl and her mother.
Some versions of the story say that the young girl was murdered by her father because she had put the family to shame ,marrying a young man whom her father did not approve of. Because the mother sided with her, she secretly sewed the girls wedding gown for her big day and the father came in while the girl was getting the finishing touches applied by her mother. The father, in a fit of rage, said that he would not tolerate his daughter marrying this man and chased after them, killing them.
It is said that the young girl roams, still in her gown, looking for her lost love while the mother roams about moaning and crying at the loss and horror brought upon them from her own husband.
All though some who have grown up in the area claim they have never witnessed anything unusual, or even have claimed to have spooked curious onlookers by throwing stone from the shadows, I know of at least one resident whose dog refused to enter the hollow, shaking and cringing whenever they came close to the old foundations, or the stump.
During Halloween and the weeks before, they actually post police around the area because there are so many people that pull off the side of the road looking for the area, the house (what's left of it) and hoping to glimpse the ghosts. Others have simply done nothing more than pull over to the side of the road, turning off their car when they hear running through the woods and a woman scream. Most who have heard the screams don't have the gumption to go further into the woods and those that have, have never come out.
(As in all Legends, there is an element of truth to the story. In the late 1940’s a man did go insane and wipe out his entire family with an ax. He spent the rest of his days incarcerated in an asylum.)
While the stories and versions of Axe Murder Hollow are probably as different as the number of people investigating the area each year, you can be sure of one thing..... on a foggy night even the most non-believing of investigators seems to get the chills and end up chickening out before they get very deep into the forest
The story Below is derived partially from actual occurrences experienced ( sadly,not by me) with- in the house pictured above
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Part 5
The final Chapter
Before I start, I should say that the reader may get the full impact of this if one were too read it under the same circumstances I wrote it in. In a darkened house, alone , past midnight.
Trust me, it will add a whole scary dimension to the story…
October 10 - 11, 19__ Sunday and Monday morning :
That night we slept pretty soundly, all things considered. Nothing happened out of the ordinary that night, except waking up briefly in the middle of the night and thinking I heard the piano keys being hit upon in the mourning parlour, but as I finally forced me self into wakefulness, I heard nothing more and so went back to sleep.
But the next morning I found out that indeed, something had been busy during the night, and I am not referring to piano music.
I was the first up, light was just starting to peep through the windows. I grabbed me robe and headed into the bathroom ( a little too much brandy the night before)
I started to push the button to turn on the bathroom light, when I caught a glimpse of me in the mirror as I stood in the door way, the hallway letting in a stream of light into the room. Something was smudged on the mirror. Without turning on the light, I went up to it, trying to see what it was. Then I saw it all too clearly… and almost peed me pants.
It looked like something had been writing on the mirror on it in red crayon, wobbly words in a child’s scrawl..
I die,
Then under that
CO___ the rest of the letters not quite discernible
Pondering it over, I heard Jesse moving about.. not sure why, but I didn’t want to talk about the subject of ghosts and haunts anymore that day, not on the Lords Day! ( almost made me sound overly religious, but I am not, though after that weekend I have contemplated a lot more on the subject!)
I quickly wipe it off, before Jesse can see it, then turning on the lights I quietly shut the door..
Rest of Sunday was spent preparing the house for three of Jesse’s cousins( on his dad’s side) who were spending the night with us before the funeral service the next day
.
We quickly put away and straighten up so there was no evidence of what we had been up to the evening before. I made Jesse carry up the dress sewing form, and the bloody doll, preferring not to touch neither.
Jesse called the home and confirmed indeed, that Joseph was still amongst the living, though his condition had not changed in the least.
Jesse’s Cousins( all girls) arrived in the early afternoon. With the house all lit up and with people and related activity filling up our time, the house took on an entirely different atmosphere.
At one point I did remember the open attic door, and envisioned a shadowy figure sitting on the top step listening in on the gaiety and happy activity now in the hose, probably quite a foreign feeling to one used to a sombre, joyless air . But I quickly put such images out of mind and went merrily about my way.
So nothing was said to anyone, and we had almost forgot about the whole affair, although we decided to let the guest have the upstairs bedrooms and Jesse and I camped ourselves again in the living room.
Monday morning came up, rather gloomy and foggy one, a perfect day for a funeral, Jesse remarked. We roused the cousins, who all apparently had slept quite well. No one said anything about strange noises or voices. So it made me believe that whatever it was, was no longer around.
With some misgivings ( oh all right then, a boatload of misgivings) I again put on the black dress that had vanished from me the closet and found its way somehow onto the nursery dress form and…) so any way I placed on the dress, and felt no oddness in wearing it, thankfully.
Jesse’s father ( me uncle) showed up early and we all had a quite delightful breakfast.
We left and headed over to the chapel. Where soon we all became caught up in getting things prepared for the expected guests. It was rather a sparse gathering, Francis having outlived all of the few friends and close relatives they had known. A few people from the church family, our little group, and two more distant cousins ( Adelaide’s side) who probably only came with hopes of being in the will. But it was no secret all of the money not needed for Josephs up- keep would be going to the church, almost a million miserly collected pounds of it! It was a sore point for me! For my dear uncle, for all the work he had done for the three, (never receiving anything other than a begrudged thanks), did not receive so much as a pence form the will. The Church, who in my opinion had done nothing outside being a spiritual haven for Frances Froes, was given everything. Sorry for the rant, but I truly felt bad for Jesse’s dad, although he would never admit anything over the episode, me Uncle being of a quite kindly and no worries kind of soul!
So, anyhow, back to the story:
It was a brief sermon, no one gave an eulogy, the priests sermon was pretty non-descript, especially in view of the windfall his church was getting from the estate!
After the service we all gathered in the church basement for a wake of sorts ( no alcohol of course) while Francis body was taken to the family crypt. We were there probably about 3 hours when the party broke up and all the guests went on their way home.
Jesse, Uncle and I stayed behind and helped the parishioner’s clean up afterwards. Then the three of us decided to visit the family crypt to pay one last respect, and to make sure there had been no problems encountered during the interment.
The Parish cemetery that was home to the Froes family crypt, lay almost dead centre between the church and Jacobs house. It was all deep woods around the cemetery. There was a rather well-trodden path leading from the side gate to Jacob’s house, nearly 2 miles away. The path had been walked almost every Saturday by Francis and Mary to take care of the crypt where their Parents corpses lay, and their two brothers were interred in spirit.
I thought of that path now, and remembered the quote form Shirley Jackson’s Ghost Novel “ for whatever walks there walked alone… I shivered at the thought, deciding the I would not be walking that particular path anytime soon!
Francis had already been interred in one of the vaults by the time we reached the crypt. The small stone building had been built up on a small hill in a corner of the parish cemetery.
We stopped just at the foot of the stairs leading up to the Froes crypt. It was as we were standing there that Jesse and I began telling Uncle our story about the strange occurrences that had gone on up at the house. Uncle listened quietly, his normally smiling face grew sombre as he listened, his usually laughing grey eyes, soon had lost all their life! He did not say a word until Jesse asked him a question…
But Joseph is still alive dad, Jesse said, it doesn’t make any sense how a child could be haunting the place, does it dad?
Me uncle’s face grew grim, and he looked up at the stoned stairs to the opened doors of the crypt. Step inside the two of you he told us solemnly. We went up the stairs and entered . It was dark inside, aside from the door, the only light was from a back window, the lower portion had been opened a crack by a vine that had been growing up from the outside. Half to have that fixed, Uncle said behind us as Jesse and I looked around, being the first time either of us had ever been inside.
Along the walls on either side were lined the vaults, six to a side, 12 vaults total, 9 of them with names and birthdates chiselled in. Two of those nine that had birth dates, were without death dates ( Joseph and the missing Stephen) . The remaining seven vaults had with dates of death chiselled in.
It hit Jesse and I at the same time, there were 9 vaults carrying names of the deceased, but the family had had only 8 members, right?! My Uncle said nothing as we gave our find some voice, and we began to read the names. Jacob, Adelaide, Jacob JR, Frank, Francis, Stephen, Mary, Joseph, and…….Joseph
I froze, There it was Joseph Froes with a birth date, and a date of death some nine years later, I looked across the room, there was the other vault, with a Joseph Froes and a birth date 2 years later than the first Joseph, and no bloody date of death!
I looked questioningly up at my Uncle.
He started to explain, his voice sombre and hushed.
Adelaide had had twins, Mary had had a twin brother, who was named Joseph.
Poor Joseph was born with what today we call Down syndrome. Despite custom, Joseph was kept home, where others like him may have been sent away to institutions. Though Joseph needed constant care, he was the heart and soul of poor Adelaide. But his special needs, along with those his 5 other young siblings required, was too much. And Adelaide finally had to be committed to a county asylum to rest and attempt to preserve her sanity.
Poor Francis tried her best to raise the others, but Joseph was a handful. Then one nigh,t in the dead of winter, Joseph slipped away from the house through the cellar door in his father’s workshop. The door locked behind him. His small lifeless body was found the next day, laying frozen neath a stone bench by the garden. It had been the eve of his tenth birthday, and it was believed he had about gone looking for presents!
Adelaide was beside herself when she learned of this, though she was not told until after he had been laid out in the vault…., and she slipped a bit deeper into insanity, but she insisted on having another child, I think she wanted to replace joseph. Jacob, fearing for his wife’s health, agreed, against the doctor’s advice.
Then, when a male child was born, Adelaide insisted that that Joseph would be his name! But after the boy’s birth, she discovered it was not the same, the void left in her soul with the loss of her sweet innocent Joseph could not be filled by this smiling, happy youth.
Adelaide began to slip out of reason, talking to an unseen, answering child ! Walking room to room looking for her dead son ,Joseph. She took to visiting the cellar and attic visiting for hours on end.
Then one night Jacob woke to find his wife gone from the bed. He searched the house fruitlessly, then he went outside where it was raining cats and dogs. He found Adelaide siting on the same stone bench where they had found the boy. She was clad only in her nightgown, chilled to the bone, totally out of her mind. She was admitted back into the asylum, where she perished some months later, a victim of a broken heart….
Wow I said, not being able to come up with anything else to say, Jesse just stared. I could see it in his eyes that his mind was working overtime.
Uncle finished…So no-one ever mention the first Joseph, and his memory was a secret, a burden everyone carried, and kept to themselves.
No wonder everyone was so unhappy, I thought, what had it been like to grow up with that hanging over ye?
We asked a few questions, but me uncle really had no answers other than what he had told us. Though It certainly filled in a few pieces of the puzzling mystery, it left us with many more unanswered questions!
I became silent, thinking some very deep thoughts as Jesse tried to ask a few more random questions, but receiving no satisfactory answers to em… Soon me uncle turned the conversation to matters of the house, and what they were going to do next to get it ready for the church to take over. He obviously felt the matter was closed, the problem would soon become someone else...
As they talked they moved off a little ways. I stayed behind, my mind still abuzz with it all. I really believed that what transpired over the weekend was a more than a little “ problem” . But I could see uncles point, what could we rationally do about it. Especially since it wasn’t like we were selling the house to someone, it was actually already owned by the Church now, so they could deal with it. Considering how I felt about the issues of Frances’s will, I made meself agree to let the sleeping dog just lie!
I looked slowly around, the cemetery, as all of em would now , had taken on a quite different perspective for me.
Now, I had always been pulled to old churchyards and their cold silent headstones. Wondering what the stories were behind the names, trying to figure out their lives by the brief clues given. Now I would also wonder if any of their spirits stayed still, or were prone to wandering, interfering in with mortal lives?
I started to walk around the crypt, looking at the familiar stones that lay around it.
I had not visited this cemetery since a much younger child.
Off a ways in one of the very back rows I knew there was a gravestone upon which had been carved a rather morbid and ( for me) startling epitaph….
Stranger stop and cast an eye....
As you are now so once was I..
As I am now, so you must be..
Prepare ye for death, and so follow me....
That epitaph always reminded me of a story..
A lady had been visiting the grave of her mother and was one her way out as dusk fell. As she walked she noticed an old man in a suit kneeling in front of a grave two rows up. He was mutterin loudly as his fingers traced the words carved in the stone. As she passed it sounded like he was uttering that the “date was wrong”. She reached the road, and thinking that someone should help the old man out since it was getting dark, turned to go to him, but when she did, he had vanished into thin aire..
I shuddered a bit, spooky thoughts in a cemetery did not go well together, especially now!
I thought of the older two Froes boys, the ones who had died in war, and of the picture of Frank Froes and the young girl. What had happened to her, was she buried somewhere near, had she ever visited this crypt in mourning, crying over a lost love? Had ever any of the Froes’s ever felt love?
Speaking of Love….
I walked on, soon reaching the backside of the crypt. Directly across from the back of the Froes crypt was a large granite headstone stone, well weathered by these many years. Ever since I had first seen it, it has always drawn me to it the every time I visited this dreary place. I walked up to it again, the old carvings still quite visible.
Reginald Beckett
Born 18_ _ Died 19 _ _
It contained the body of a 25 year old pilot who had been killed during world war 1
I read the words underneath his name:
Beloved Husband , Father , Son…
Neath This inscription name was the name of poor Reginald’s wife,
Elisabeth Johns –Beckett
Neath hers was another quite haunting inscription
Life’s Greatest loss isn’t Death…It’s Greatest Loss is what dies inside us while we live.
Then underneath that was
Until we me again, love of my life, ,my greatest loss.
I looked up again at her name
Elisabeth Johns -Beckett
Born 18_ _ Died
There had been no death date the last time I had been there, and there still wasn’t now!
I always wondered why? For the Elisabeth’s birth date was now some 125 years ago, so she was now decidedly no longer among the living.
Was she buried there, and no one ever inscribed the date, or had she met another love of her life, and moved on, leaving poor Reginald, forgotten? On either side were empty plots, and no other graves nearby held the name of Elisabeth, or Beckett, so not even Reginald’s child(ren?) were buried near.
Poor Reginald had fallen from the sky, had he also fallen out of Love?
Prepare ye for death, and so follow me.... But none apparently was following poor Reginald Beckett.
So the question would now be, dose Reginald come out searching for his lost love….?
As I said, I always was wondering what the stories were if the graves could talk…and now I was starting to freak out that some, on certain dark nights, may!
I turned sadly away.
I looked Back over me shoulder. Jess and Uncle were still talking.
I than walked the few steps to the back of the Froe’s crypt….
There was the barred back window, , with the lower section opened. I could see the vine was running along it, so it had been opened for some time, probably the vine entering a crack and wedging open the lower section.
I went up to the open widow, looking at the stained glass. I stepped on a twig, hearing it snap as I moved closer. It sure was quite silent in that place this dreary morning.
The glass was a pattern of the Froes crest, an old moss rose vine. Its green thorny leaves curling up and around a white marble column, open roses laying on top. No idea what its meanings were. I found it interesting that another vine, wisteria I believe, had grown up and around the crypt, was forcing open the window a crack.
I stepped back, feeling the twig crack again underfoot, I look down.. It wasn’t a twig atoll, but an old. Weathered crayon, red!
What an odd thing to be laying here I remembered thinking, my mind at the time not making any connection.
I meandered back towards the front of the crypt, walking on the opposite side this time. There were no gravestone on this side of it, just green grass falling down the hill to the old wrought iron fencing with its wicked looking, nastily sharp, top spikes!
I again stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the crypt with the Froes name etched on the doors mantle. The door still was open ,Uncle had not closed and locked it yet.
I stood. Looking up at the blackness with in the crypt, with its 5 bodies waiting for the day of judgment, unless they decided not to wait?.
Only one Froes left alive, Joseph the second.
My mind went to the mysteriously vanished Stephen; I imagined a very old man, in a suit, crawling up the moonlit path to the Froes crypt, reaching it, knocking to be let in….
Again I shivered, enough of that Girl I scolded meself as I walked again up the 3 stoned stops leading to the Froes crypt’s opened door.
I looked over again at Jesse and me Uncle, now walking off a bit as they talked.. Had they forgotten that I was even there I wondered?
I shivered, looking inside the vaults murky depths, thinking of that old broken crayon….
I looked inside, the rows of crypts visible.. I could see the name of poor young Joseph, and wondered what it had all been about, the happenings over the weekend at the dreary old Froes house.
And then I sensed movement in the shadows..
Before I could properly react, I distinctly heard it , from the back recesses, the doll like child’s singsong voice coming from the darkness deep within…
“Time to sleep….”
I didn’t move, could it be here?
Then, closer this time, it spoke again, a little sharper, no less spooky. The utterance of a single word..
COME
(Fini) The end
Addendum
Since the séance I have been told how terribly crackers we both were to have attempted what we did, and how horribly wrong the whole thing could have turned out. But at the time we did not consider all of the possibilities, nor all of the possible consequences. It is something I am not sure I would ever do again, and I would never suggest anyone else to rush in and try it either.
Requiesce in pace – “Rest is not always Peaceful amongst the Dead!”
“Wearye Traveller do not long linger here,
Tarry not lest ye disturbs what sleeps neare,
Deathe eternal carries no feare to Treade,
Rest is not always peaceful, among the Dead”
By Unknow Author (MSL)
Circa 1866 crypt engraving
************************************************************************.
The story Below is derived partially from actual occurrences experienced ( sadly,not by me) with- in the house pictured above
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Part 2
October 8, 19__ twilight Friday
Ok, it wasn’t a scream, more like a snort, which I will admit was not very damsel in distress like, but for my defence, I had after all received a bit of a shock. For once the lights flashed on It wasn’t my cousin Jesse standing there teasing in front of the window, but a naked dress form, with a faceless mannequin’s head! I caught me heart, then laughed at meself. The old lights, pre war gas lights must have flickered on and off on their own accord. No spooks, just faulty lighting I scolded meself, deciding that I was glad that Jesse or me brother had not witnessed this, I would never have lived it down with that pair of teasing prone rascals!
I looked around the room, the lighting was not as bright as modern, and countless shadows played along the walls from the rooms many pieces of furniture and other knickknacks. This room must have been a nursery, a crib was on one side, with a small chest that I soon discovered contained old toys, popular about 60 years ago. On the other wall was a small sofa and matching chairs, new by the toys standards, but still 40 years out of date. Old lamps were standing on either side, the yellowed shades had long fringes hanging down, I figured they were from the twenties ( roaring twenties I believe they say in the states) A fainting couch from the same era was on the wall just to the right of the doorway where I stood, and above that a small ledge with a collection of stuffed animals and small dolls. These were a little more modern, with a couple of the dolls recognizable as the “talking” variety.
It had been a few years since I had been at the place, and I couldn’t wait till the next day to do a little more exploring. The house was a small museum of artefacts collected over its 110 year old history. Children of a depressed time, everything was saved that good money had been spent on, even if it was no longer functioning properly!
But exploring would wait until the light of day, I was tired, and decided to find a room to unpack and a bed to sleep on.
There were four bedrooms that were laid out along the corridor. I knew the one at the end had been the sisters room, and since 2 had died in that room, I decided that I would not be staying there. The one immediately to my right was the master bedroom, still intact with all of Adelaide and Jacobs possessions, a small shrine to their parents. The canopied bed that stood in the middle was large, too large by my standards, so I crossed it off me list. The other two rooms had belonged to the two sets of brothers, and I took the one on the right, which had been poor Jacob JR’s room, the one last remaining descendent. I figured he wouldn’t mind. It was a smart little room, with a small bed on one side, and a small sitting area with two chairs, a more modern lamp( only 25 years old) and one of the his father Jacob Sr’s hand built chests.
Comfortable and cosy, even without a fire in the corner fireplace.
I soon made meself at home, hanging the clothes I had brought up into the small closet. I had to kick around some boxes that were strewn on the floor, and move some of Jacob’s musty smellin clothes over to make room in the process.
It was getting late, so I prepared the bed, then headed downstairs to the water closet on the first floor to do me toilet. The water closet was situated next to the Mourning Parlour, sharing a wall. convenient for any quests that had come to pay their respects to the deceased I shuddered at that thought knowing that at least 4 dead bodies had been laid out in that room!
I was running water to brush my teeth when I started to realize that I was hearing more than just running water. it. A low humming was coming from behind me, and I started when I recognized that it was a tune I soon recognized. . I turned off the faucet and listened , but me ears were met with dead silence. I turned on the water again and stared to brush, and soon my thoughts were broken again by the humming sound. I turned around, whatever it was coming from the grate set in about a ¼ meter up on the wall the connected to the mourning parlour. I turned the water off again to hear it more clearly, but it stopped as I did. Hearing nothing more I finished up and quickly made my way to bed, convincing meself that it had been merely a humming form the basement furnace, although I knew all too well that the humming had sounded like it was to the tune of happy birthday. To be honest I had totally forgotten that Frances had died on her birthday, a fact that did not occur to me until much later, much much too later.
Still mulling it over, I changed me clothes, hanging the jumper I had worn in the closet, closing the door, than putting on my PJ’s slipped neath the cool sheets on the small bed. The house was noisy, as all houses are, and I let those various creaks and rattles serenade me to sleep.
I remember dreaming that I was back at my apartment, apparently it was one of the times that I had watched my neighbours little Tony, a rumbustious lad of about 4, although he was a lot older in my dream, more like eleven. He was going about me room, opening drawers, looking into closests, and I was forever chasing him about, at one point he had picked up a small glass vase and I told him to give it back, No he said, and pulled it from me hand.
No!
I heard that second NO quite clearly, and I felt the pillow being pulled from underneath my head.
Suddenly I was wide awake, remembering where I was as I looked about me in the dark room. That last NO! had sounded like it had not been part of me dream, but had come from right next to me bed, and my pillow was now on the floor..
I got up and turned on the lamp, shaking just a bit as I looked around the room. Everything appeared normal, wait!, The closet door was now opened, I knew I had closed It! I walked over, and looked inside its deep murky depths. Nothing Shrugging me shoulders I turned away and started t close the door, moving a box back in with me foot. as I did I heard a doll like voice coming from the floor.. “time to sleep” is what I thought it had said. A child’s talking toy I said to myself, nothing more than a bad dream and an old doll.
Girl, furnace noises, pillows slipping off a bed, and a child’s old toys are nothing that should be giving one the heebee jeevees I scolded me self.
I was tired, and decided to investigate things more in the light of day. Going back to bed I slept soundly till morning….
Morning came up rather gloomy, a blustery fall day in full force. A low wind came howling about the hose, shaking a few shutters in the process. When I awoke, most of the occurrences of the night before seemed distant and far away.
I arose, and looked towards the closet, the door had remained closed this time, and I had all but convinced meself that It all had been a product of my imagination. Still in my nightclothes, I wandered downstairs to the kitchen, Jesse had said there would be provisions there.As I made my way down the long curved stairway I looked at the all the carvings of roses, I could still make out small faces, but instead of being creeped out, I found meself admiring the skilled craftmenship that had gone into them.
I went into the kitchen, a long room with tall ceilings and black oak cabinets. A shrill gust of wind came through a partially opened window, sending a shutter banging against the wall. It did make me jump, but I went over and secured it, not trying to let me imagination take off into realms it shouldn’t. But as it turned out, It wasn’t a loose shutter that finally led me imagination take off.
After a quick meal I decided to dress and start exploring the house a bit. I had never been in that house without one of the sisters or Jacob JR hanging over me shoulder.
I went upstairs to the bedroom and opened the closet to put on me green jumper…….
It wasn’t there! I had brought along and hung up 3 outfits, including a long black dress with white frills that I had planned on wearing to Monday’s Funeral. Two of the outfits, including the green jumper were there, but the black dress was not! Deciding it had simply fallen off I began to rummage around the closet, eventually pulling out an assortment of cartons containing stamps, and other related paraphernalia, but no dress, and no dolls either!
This was all starting to get a bit too weird I told meself, but decided that there must be some rational explanation. Perhaps Jesse was her, playing games on me, teasing me like he and me brother kad when we were youngetrs? I decided that , whatever the case, I would get to the bottem of it all, and if me cousin had had anything to do with this, I would have no problems seeking retribution!
I dressed and went out on me exploring mission…..
End Of part 2
to be continued …..
The story Below is derived partially from actual occurrences experienced ( sadly,not by me) with- in the house pictured above
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Part 3
October 9, 19__ Saturday
I decided to start my exploring with the upstairs rooms.
I peeked into the sister’s room first. A small room with a large double bed. So the two had shared a bed their whole lives I commented to myself, feeling that it was rather strange, but than the whole household had always appeared rather strange in that respect. There was a large closet that held a collect of handmade dresses, most of which had been in style pre works war 2, as were the hats and shoes that neatly lined the floor and upper racks, waiting for owners that would never return. The rest of the room consisted of a few old bureaus and chests that had been hand made by their father. I opened a few, but saw nothing but old clothes and some bits of costume jewellery. In the reading racks was a bible, a book on Churchill, and several old newspapers, most of em from the war years. The wallpaper was a yellowed old fashion print of flowers, daises, whose centre looked like so many featureless faces trying to stare out. The only lights in the room was a small gas bulb by the door, and several oil lamps, one of which was missing its chimney. The room as a whole felt a little dampish, and old, seriously old.. I could not imagine what it had been like to share and sleep in a room like that for one’s whole long life! And as adults they had shared a bed!... That thought to this day continues to haunt me!
The other room, across the hall from mine, must have been the older 2 boys, the ones who perished in the first World War, or THE World War as it had been known to them. This room was also old, with two twin beds, the same style of dressers and bureaus. From the ceiling hung an old, dusty Sopwith Camel biplane, and on the walls were a couple of framed black and white photos. One of a droll young man with stern eyes in a turn of the century suit with and arm around a smiling, rather homely girl in a paisley dress. Both sets of eyes just seemed to look right through me.
The second was of a different man with similar features , obviously the older brother of the first, this must have been Jacob JR., and the other his brother Frank. This picture of Jacob was taken in the backyard, sitting on the same stone bench that still sat off the victory Garden. He was smoking a pipe, his hand resting on a pointy nosed ragged haired old Collie. He was not smiling either, and I remember wondering if anyone in that family ever had managed a smile!
The room really contained nothing more of interest, except for an old violin inside a battered case that sat in a corner of the closet. A few old suits and shirts were hanging above it, and I thought rather morbidly that they had been saved, saved to lay the brothers out in the Morning parlour when their cold bodies were recovered and brought back. I shook that thought out of me head and left the room. I became aware that the house seemed to be closing in about me, like I was being drawn into the misery of the place, starting to live in the unhappiness that had been their lives, as far as I was concerned, and it seemed to seep out from the very walls.
I Went down the hall and entered the child’s nursery. I looked around, touched the dolls and stuffed animals that lined the shelf by the door. I went to the chests of drawers and opened them, finding a cache of old sewing materials, bolts of cloth, a few old magazines from the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s , nothing of real interest. I went over to the naked sewing form by the window and moved it around, it squeaked a bit. It was old, moth eaten in places, with a wire skirt at its bottom. The head-on perched top was an old yellowed faceless, earless shape, and I was not really sure of its purpose, for it defiantly had been an added piece.
The room held nothing more to my imagination, and so I U turned and went to leave, with the intention of checking out the parents room/shrine next door. It was as I was going through the door that I felt smoothing slightly hold and pull along me shoulder from behind! I stopped dead in me tracks. Thinking one of the dolls had fallen off the shelf I looked up, but everything appeared to be in order. I looked down on the floor, then all around me, there was nothing there. I looked around the room, nothing had moved out of place. I shrugged me shoulders, just me imagination I convinced meself and left the room.
I went into old Jacob and Adelaide’s room . It was larger than the others, but dimly lit, even with the gas lights on. The two windows that faced in different compass points were of no use on this gloomy, sunless Autumn day. A shrill wind came up, whistling around the house, and I shivered a bit, the heat was probably not on and I decided to check out the basement after I was done here to see if the furnace pilot light was lit.
The room was quite shadowy. The large four poster bed dominated the middle part of the room. It looked like a prop from an old scary movie, with its hanging curtains. Along the west wall was an old vanity with and old large smoked mirror. On one side of the vanity was a small jewel casket( I always was fascinated by that term for a jewel case!) I opened it, mostly costume jewellery, a fine silver necklace and a set of pearls, yellowed with age made up its meagre contents. No wedding rings, but of course she would have been buried in the vault with them. This thought caused me to remember a night when we were kids,, and me brother and cousin Jesse were tellin scary stories. One of em was a bout a lady who had been buried with her jewels and a grave robber had broken into the crypt to have em for hisself. He easily stripped he corpse of its valuables, except for the rings. Rigour mortis had apparently set in, so he pulled out his knife and began to cut off her fingers to have em. The lady , as it turned out, was not dead but in a coma, and the blade cutting into her flesh woke her, making her sit up wild eyed and screaming….. ENOUGH of that I scolded meself, time to put all such thought out of me head, I had been looking over at the bed as if her body was laying there!
I focused my attention back on the room.
The east wall side was lined with two large chests which contained nothing more than drawers full of antique clothing. I turned slowly around looking at several pictures that hung from the walls. They were all religious in nature. One of the cross at Golgatha, the Mother Mary weeping at its rock base. The rest were saints with drawn out, sorrowful faces. I turned away from them, spying a second closed door next to the one I had entered, I went over and opened it.
Inside was a stairway leading to the attic, next to the stairs landing was a long closet with bagged suits and dresses, looking like a row of headless bodies, body bags I thought at the time, knowing full well that they weren’t, but that was the type of thoughts the place was giving me! I went to the stairway, and turned on the switch. Nothing happened, then I realized the door was closed to the attic up the stairs, I than could make out a faint glimmer of light just around the doors cracks. The wind again shirked around the house, shaking it a bit. I suppose, now looking back, that I had been a bit daft for going up into that attic alone, but for some reason I was drawn to it, like a moth to flame, with no thoughts at the time as to why I shouldn’t….
I made me way up the creaky stairs and opened the door, and went inside. Unlike the sparse rooms below, the attic was packed with bags of old clothes, broken clocks, forgotten damaged dolls and other toys. There were also several pictures, old , yellow and damp, of various family members. They were all tinotype photos, black and white, except for one that had been professionally hand coloured. It was of a young boy of about nine, something about him just did not seem quite right. He had large almond shaped eyes that just stared out, quite creepily from a slightly oversized head, and I wondered who it was, and what his story had been. No one had ever mentioned a handicapped child being in that branch of the family, but than in that era, things like that were hushed up. Thank God we no longer think that way!
As I walked through that dusty and damp room looking over the old fashioned traveling trunks, cartons, yellowed newspapers and letters, I began to get a sense of what their lives had been like. Whatever they had bought of value had been used until broken, then stuffed up here away to hopefully be fixed someday. I was pretty sure that most of the vanished Stephen’s left behind objects were up here now also. I remember wondering what had ever become of him, was he the boy in the antique coloured photograph?
I soon spied, crammed in a corner , a rather unique rocking horse. It looked like it had been hand made using real horses hair, some of it now eaten away, giving it a rather witchy, dishevelled appearance. The long face was also rather peculiar, looking all for the world like it had been startled by something, its eyes budging, nostrils flared! I moved it ever so slightly, and as it rocked I heard the springs squeak, it almost sounding like a young child saying “mine”. I stopped it, then did it again, this time the squeak sounded just like a squeak should. Blimy I thought, this place with its strange moans, creaks and other noises certainly does play tricks with one’s imagination!
I turned away, and spying a group of old toys jumbled about out on a table ,and went over. They were all broken in one way or another, some of them with what looked like red crayon marks. I picked up a doll that had a long fancy dress, its face and hands had been made of delicate porcelain. I looked it over, seeing that the side of the face had been smashed, which was giving it a rather gruesome, one blank eyed appearance. A red crayon that had been lying underneath the doll rolled off the table and fell on the floor. The tap it made when landing actually echoed in the room, it was now that quiet, with the wind having dyed down. The crayon had been resting on some papers and I picked them up. It was letter, written by their children’s mother Adelaide!
It was handwriting in neat, crimped feminine script, it was signed Adelaide Froes. It had been written to one of her sisters, and it told of her experience in the sanatorium, of hoping she would be well enough to come home soon. How she missed little Joseph, and hoped he was well ( none of the other children were mentioned!) . The letter started to tell about some of her experiences; constant screams and cries from the other patients, about how one night a man had escaped his bindings and had been entering rooms including hers! As I read the letter, I was starting to get seriously creeped out, so I started to put the letter down, when I noticed that someone had been scribbling on the bottom of the margin, in red crayon! It was a child’s wobbly scrawl, and spelled Joseph, with the letter 9 under it. There was another word beneath the 9 that looked like the spelling of the word “wotcher”.
I thought of Old Joseph, wasting away in the old folks home, the last known living member of the family( If one believed that Stephen was not still alive) . It must have been him scribbling at age 9. It was at that moment the lights flickered off, and I jumped as the room went dark . But then me eyes quickly adapted, I was able to see the open door, outlined faintly by a window set high in the wall. I Carried the letter with me and made my way quickly to the door. Just as I reached it, the wind started to howl again outside, causing the house to shake and creak. And as I hastened through the door, some of those odd noises sounded like something was riding the evil looking rocking horse , creaking its springs! I hurried down the stairs firmly shutting the closet door. Noticing that I was still carrying the old letter, I went over and set it down on the vanity, and closing the door behind me, left the room.
But I will admit now that I was to return to that room it a bit later that evening , for a most peculiar reason indeed!
I was now definitely chilled, and figured that the sooner I had the heat on the better. I made my way downstairs, but stopped for a look inside the Mourning Parlour. For some reason the room had always held a fascination for me. It was a corner room, with its own outside entrance, facing to the main entrance, with quite long windows to let in the light of day. It had only ever been used for the purpose of laying out bodies of the deceased relatives for viewing before traveling to the Church for a service of the dead, than laid out in the family crypt. So far had the room been used for that purpose 6 times. Though two of the caskets set up for viewing had been empty , those of the Jacob JR and Franks whose bodies were buried in a mass grave a continent away across the channel.
The room was still laid out as it had been for Frances’s viewing.
The room was small, with high ceilings and close walls. Off to one side was a small piano… I had remembered that both Mary and Frances had played that piano, and tried offer me lessons once, I turned them down flat.
The other side was a couch, a few easy chairs, and some chairs from the kitchen… laid out in front of where the coffin had been. On either side of that space were two odd looking objects.. Black wrought iron contraptions’, a large grilled fan stood at the top of each of the wrought iron stands, and on top of each of the fans were candelabras, with 3 tapers each, that had been burnt down about halfway. I stood for a minute, realizing that the candles purpose was to gain light to the coffin and the corpse, while the fans were meant to keep things cool. At the base of each were large flower pots, still containing faded flowers, wilting from lack of water. I tried not to think what the purpose of the flowers had been!
I started to again shiver, feeling cold I convinced myself was the reason. I closed the parlour’s doors and went to the kitchen. Off to one side was the cellar door. I turned on the light and headed down.
The cellar was large, partitioned off by several walls. Probably for the root cellar and Jacob’s work room. The room was full of old crates and mouldy cardboard cartons, all full with odd and ends of all types collected over the many year’s gone by. In a far, shadowy corner were an ancient washer, drier, and an and even more ancient clothes wringer. Next to them, in a corner, was the old furnace, with its many vents raising up like a many armed monster about to pounce from the shadows. Kill the imagination girl, I chided meself, this place is eerie enough on its own…
It was at that moment that the tapping on the wall started.
End Of part 3
to be continued …..
*****************************************************
The story Below is derived partially from actual occurrences experienced ( sadly,not by me) with- in the house pictured above
*****************************************************
Part 4
October 9, 19__ Saturday Late afternoon
The tapping was coming from the other side of the wall, an infrequent tapping that seemed to be low, about my waist level. It moved off and I followed it to the other end, where a door stood. The tapping stopped. Get a grip girl I said, it cannot be much of anything. It was then that the knob started to turn, quite slowly on its own, then began to shake. I stood back, the door opened, and as a long shadowy figure emerged, I did let out a scream, a full bodied, totally girlish wail that caused the figure to jump back with a startled yelp!
It was me cousin Jesse! and we both stared at each other wondering what the bloody ‘ell was going on. Goood Lord! M’lad I said, you are a sight for sore eyes. Jesse snorted, what the bloody hell luv, don’t ever greet me like that again Cuz ! He smiled after a moment.
What were you doing in the basement? I inquired, sceptically. Serves you right for not knocking and coming in the front door like a normal being.
Jesse defensively responded. I was there, but saw a small shadowy figure moving from the garden along the wall of the house, disappearing into the outside caller door, which by the way, someone had left open! he added accusingly looking at me! I said nothing as he continued on.. I followed and found meself in old Jacobs work shop. He looked down at me, his eyes drilling into mine.. Than you stared tapping on the wall …
Wait a minute I defended meself , I was not tapping on the wall, you were! Wasn’t me either luv, said Jesse, must have been whatever creature came in from outside.
So where is said creature now I asked, and we both went inside the room, and finding the switch, lit up the cluttered space and searched around, fruitlessly. I muttered to meself, this sad place is definitely getting to me. So what is going on Jesse asked, overhearing me muttering? Let’s go upstairs and I will fill you in I said, leading him back up the door opening up on stairway into the kitchen.
At the stairs leading up, we both froze in step! Above the cellar stairway was the underside of the second floor stairway. As we listened, we could distinctly hear creaks as if something was slowly coming down. We listened until whatever it was reached the bottom landing. Let’s go Jesse said, pulling me by the arm..
We ran up the cellar stairs and through the kitchen, looking down the hallway leading to the still closed front door. There was nothing there. Jesse let go my arm, and ran down the hall, reaching the landing he looked upstairs, I was right behind him. Nothing was moving along the shadows on the stairwell! Jesse turned to face me. Then his eyes went wide, who the bloody hell is that he exclaimed, looking up over me head into the Mourning Parlour. I turned, there was a black shape in a dress standing in front of the space that France’s coffin occupied, just like a lady in mourning. Jesse went past me and turned on the lights, Oui, who are you then, he called out to it. I was right behind Jesse when he threw on the lights.
Now, I have always heard the term about a person receiving such a shock that their blood freezes in their veins from fright. And until that moment had thought it was nothing more than a spooky expression. But as my eyes and mind fully grasped what it was I saw standing there in front of the space where Frances Froes’s open casket had stood, I experienced that exact feeling wash over me in total dreadful disbelief.
For there, looking like some sad mourner, now stood the dress form with its faceless head looking away towards the far wall. And oh my sweet Lord , the damn thing was wearing the black dress that had gone missing from the closet!
I turned and ran up the stairs, a startled Jesse following along, asking a million unanswerable questions. I ran into the nursery, the dress form WAS gone, and in its place, facing us, sat one of the dolls, its black pupil less eyes staring up at us, the moulded grin on its plastic face seemingly smirking eerily at our disbelief.
For the second time I felt a hand placed on me shoulder in that room, and jumped, even though I knew this time it was me cousin Jesse. I turned to him, and he could see by the look in me eyes that something unexplainable had been going on. He saw it in my eyes. Unlike him and Me brother, I am not a prankster, and being fully aware of that fact, plus my reactions so far, Jesse knew that I had no better an idea about what he was witnessing than I did. Let us have it than luv he ordered! I sat him over on the couch and began to tell him everything. The words spilling out of me mouth as I, now that Jesse was finally here, was no longer alone. I let me self realize that something was definitely not right with the creepy old Froes House!
Jesse took it all in, and as I finished, he took my hand, holding it firm he said with all seriousness, We need to do a séance. A bloody what! I shouted in disbelief, You mean like with an Ouija board? Yes he admitted.
Blimey, your crackers mate, good luck finding anything like that in this house I said, or in the village for that matter. Look lad, I don’t think we need to be calling it over to us whatever it is! Me suggestion is that we leave well enough alone!
Look Cuz, Jesse answered with all earnest, his eyes drilling into mine with a deep conviction of purpose. I think we need to at least try and find out what is going on, whatever it is that appears to going on here, something is obviously trying to make contact, and I for one feel we need to know what it is that the bugger is trying to say to us!
He continued…
I need your help, because I don’t believe it can be accomplished with just one person, what needs doing should be done in a group, or at least a pair. As for a board, We can make one He said, and went into how it could be done. I listened on, realizing that I had never seen this side of Jesse. Even though I knew he liked to tell a good ghost story, I had never realized that he ( or anyone for that matter) would actually like to encounter a real ghost! Now by the time he was through with his explanations, He had me convince that it could be done, and that was the right thing to do.
We went back downstairs and into the kitchen to make us up a bit of supper. For now we put our plans aside, catching up on what was going on with each other, even though we had both been at me brother’s wedding only weeks before. But soon conversation turned and We began discussing the house and what we could remember of Frances, Mary, and old Joseph. Outside long shadows began their timeless climb towards the house, starting to swallow it up with the approaching nightfall.
When it was fully dark outside ( not even a moon tonight) We cleaned up and started our preparations for the adventure ahead.
Saturday Evening
The Séance……
The first thing we need is a planchette Jesse explained. A what I asked? A planchette is the pointy thing that people lay their hands on so the spirit can speak by moving it along. We need something that would work the same way. Something made up of earthly metals, silver gold or copper would work the best Jesse explained. I mentioned the silver chain that was in Adelaide’s jewel casket. Perfect he said, run up and get it, not without you lad! I said simply. We both went upstairs. The closet door leading to the attic was now standing, open wide, gaping.
As I picked up the necklace, Jesse spied the letter on the vanity and asked what it was? When I explained he picked it up and read it, studying the red crayon marks. he stated that it would be something we could use. He also suggested we open all the doors, including the attic, bedrooms and cellar, which we did, though I felt that if anything was going to visit, closed doors would not prevent it from coming.
‘We then went into Jacobs work area and found a small, solid copper washer, which Jesse strung onto the silver chain, then letting it dangle a bit, announced that it should work as a proper planchette!
Jesse than gently suggested that I should wear me dress, the one that somehow had been placed on the dress formed. Needless to say, I balked at the thought, but Jesse pleaded a bit until I agreed to put it on ( I never could say no to his puppy eyed looks, which when younger led me into all sorts of Jesse and Brother led mischief!). So I carefully took it off the dress form, and went into the loo. I checked it over, no marks or stains. So I then put it one, feeling a little bit queasy in the stomach as I did. But soon all such feelings soon passed. It was mine after all!
While I was gone, Jesse had moved the dress form to one side, setting it by the piano. Then he set up one of the low, small tables that Jacob had made with his own hands, one with the Celtic cross cut out in its centre. The table was placed exactly on the spot where France’s casket had been set.
To one side of the table we sat the letter, and Jesse laid down our makeshift planchette upon it. On the either side of the centre cross we laid out two bits of paper we found in the nursery. On one Jesse wrote a YES and on the other a NO. Jesse then darted upstairs and came back with the doll. I protested, the bloody thing creeped me to no end, but he insisted, and but he did not heed my protests, and sat the thing on a chair between us!
Lighting the candles on the fan, Jesse had me kneel on one side of the table, while he did the same on the other. We each held up one end of the chain, letting the silvery homemade planchette with its copper piece swing freely over the makeshift Ouija board. We need to form a bond he said, and I made to take up his free hand.
No Jesse said, and taking my hand had me grab one of the doll’s, while he took the other. Bollocks I protested, but he shot me a look that told me he was being deadly serious. All I could think of as I conceded the point, was that we must be making a rather weird setting, and hoped no one we knew walked in on use, than I thought, or anything else of that matter.
I had had enough of ghosts, or spirits and would rather end it right there. I than so much as told Jesse that, but he assured me that this was the best way to try and get at the bottom of it all, and the time was quite ripe.
I looked into Jesse’s face as it flickered in the candles light. He was really taking this seriously I remember thinking.
How do we start I asked ?
Ask it to come in he told me, invite it in.
I kinda gave him a look, but settled in, and looking towards the shadowy dress form, Began it…
‘Ello, are you there I asked, politely?
No Jesse whispered, Ask it to come in, it needs inviting. Look towards the staircase.
I did so, turning me head in that direction, watching the shadows dance up the bannister.
Please come down I said, we …. I stopped, for I distinctly heard one of the stairs creak. I shot Jesse a look, and I knew he had head it too, with eyes wide in excitement he nodded me on…
Don’t be fearing I said towards the stairs, we mean you no harm.
Everything was dead silent, except for when the wind could be heard picking up outside.
After a long minute of staring at the stairway, I felt an urge to say something, just to break the deadly silence.
Are we alone? I whispered.
I swear I felt something move through my hair, not quite like a bit of wind!
I think Jesse saw me flinch, for he also whispered Are we alone?
We were both now watching the makeshift planchette with its copper washer hovering over the Celtic cross in centre of the board, as each of us held an end up high.
Are you here then? Jesse asked again, yes or no , and as he spoke, he let go of the dolls hand and touched the YES and NO paper as he spoke each word, then taking the dolls hand up again, we waited in silence, as the candlelight played over the board.
The copper washer was now swaying gently over the centre of the table, something had moved it along!
Ello I said, have you come into the room?
Suddenly our makeshift Planchette swings slightly to the paper that YES was written on. We looked into each other’s eyes, it was then that I realized with Jesse had it had been a bit of male bravo, and he was quite shocked that his idea would work. I shot him a glance that basically said, we are in it neck deep now boyo……
What is your name Jesse stammered, I shoot him a look, whispering yes or no silly
Is your name Frances I ask
The Planchette Swings over the No paper, and I felt prickling shivers.. this was really happening, we ere in contact, like a move, but this was real, no script, no way of knowing how it will all turn…
I continued curiously on…
Mary I inquired
Swings again NO
Than Jesse asked, Jacob ?
No movement
Frank, I asked gently?
Swings to No
I again asked, Jacob SR or JR?
This time it moved to NO
Mother Adelaide, is that you? I whispered into the darkness.
This time the Planchette swung decisively over NO
I look at Jesse, running out outta names here lad
Stephen, is that you Jesse asked
The Planchette hovered without moving.
So, you are not Stephen I asked?
The copper swung gently over the YES paper.
Joseph? Jesse suddenly asked, I started to say, but he isn’t dead, but was cut off as our Planchette started to swing like something was playing with it.
Joseph is that you I asked quietly?
The copper washer swung to the YES paper, then stopped dead centre as if something still had hold of it.
We just stared at one another for a second, speechless…..
thought you said Joseph was alive I challenged, Jesse shook his head yes he is! , a puzzled look on his face
Joseph, he asked, did you pass over
Our Planchette did not move.
I could see the childlike scrawled name on the letter that sat on the table: The name Joseph and the age of 9…
Joseph? I asked, are you 9 years old
The planchette swung over the yes paper, and I caught me breath, how could this be, a living man in his 80’s be the ghost of a nine-year-old?
I shot Jesse a look, and he shrugged his shoulders, then bending slightly over the table asked…
Joseph? Did you move the dress form here
Our Planchette made a small twist, but did not move in either direction
Joseph? I asked, do you like me dress ?
The copper washer of our planchette twitched over the YES paper.
Did you take me dress? I asked.
The Planchette stayed perfectly still.
Jesse asked the next question.
Joseph, are you alone here, he asked.
The Planchette stayed still,
Joseph, I asked using the type of sweet voice I use for children..
Are you alone here ?
Nothing moved, except the flickering shadows of the candlight.
I had started to ask a second question, when it the copper washer moved, quite briskly once again, over the yes paper
Then like a pendulum it sung over the NO paper than back over the YES Paper.
Jesse and I looked at each other.
I think its playing with us now, I whispered, and Jesse nodded in agreement.
Jesse looked around the room than asked,
Joseph,
Are we welcomed here?
The planchette moved ever so slightly, again in no particular direction.
Am I welcomed her I asked, and watched, the planchette as it moved, swinging to the YES
What about me, Jesse asked, smirking,
Nothing… then suddenly the chain was pulled so hard that we both lost it, and it went sailing off across the room on its own, falling with a clatter onto the hard wood floor ….a few seconds later we heard a door upstairs slam shut.
I think its over Jesse said,
Do ya think do then lad? ,I mocked a bit, then added.. apparently something here does not like Jesse I teased.
Jesse shrugged, after all missy, he said to me, it was your dress he coveted.
Shivering I I gave him a squinty look with my eyes, and asked.
What Next?
Call it a night Jesse said…
Let’s camp out on the living rooms couches he suggested, and leave some lights on he added.
Cautiously we went upstairs.
Nothing was amiss, except that the door to Joseph’s room was now closed. I made Jesse go inside with me as I gathered me nightgown, robe and things, and then went into the brothers room so Jesse could gather his toiletries and PJ’s.
Taking pillows and blankets We went downstairs and set up camp in the living room/library located off of the kitchen.
Took turns each changing in the small loo.
Jesse lit a small fire in the grate and we sat around for a while talking it all over, trying to make a bit sense over what had occurred that evening. I found a bottle of elderberry brandy and we opened it, drinking right from the bottle!
Wonder what would have happened if we’d had a proper Ouija board then? Jesse pondered.
Maybe nothing I offered, thinking of the old photo upstairs, it couldn’t have been Joseph, obviously enough, and I explained to him about the coloured photo in the attic.
So you are saying=, that whatever it was, had a limited level of understanding when alive? Jesse asked..or dead he added somberly
If that’s what it was, most likely, and added to that a child’s naturally short attention span… and it all makes a bit of sense, do ya think. I asked.
But! Jesse asked, what about the mannequin, and how was it able to move it downstairs then?
And why the dress I added. I don’t know the answers to that, exceptin that we should probably stay close to one another until the others arrive tomorrow.
I told Jesse that I don’t think it means us any harm, at least me any way, I added, grinning up at my cousin, I noticed you never really received a response from any of your questions, just the ones I asked. Anyhow, I suggest we just leave things be and get through the weekend, then have nothing more to do with the house. Easy for you to say, Jesse answered, I have to help Dad with cleaning it up for when the Pastor comes to take ownership!
That right, I forgot the Church was willed the old place, maybe they will bring an exorcist along then?
Jesse just shot me a look, and I could see that the wheels of his mind were turning.
Let things be, I advised him, and You will probably have to watch your back then, wont ye Jess, I sure do not envy you that..
And with that said we both snuggled in, and I found myself pondering as I watched the flames dance , forming their grotesque shapes on the walls and ceiling….
What did it all mean.. ?
What was this 9 year old spirit haunting a house where all its inhabitants had lived well into adulthood? Why was it calling itself Joseph, a man in his late 80’s who was still alive? Who was the handicapped child in the Attic Picture, what was his story? We needed a key I thought, a Skelton key to unlock these mysteries.
And as it turned out later, there was a key, held in the form of Jesse’s dad!
End Of part 4
to be continued ….. and ended
From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!
(Traditional Scottish Prayer)
I know, I know, a day late, and, a dollar short, but, that's how I roll. Just havin' a spot O'fun, with the new fog machine, and a large skull mask I found in the garbage at work.lol I call her Mulder.
Óia eu de esmalte preto aqui de novo :P
Mais um da coleção de Halloween de 2013 da China Glaze, o Bump In The Night é o chapisco da coleção *__*
Na verdade eu passei ele na quarta-feira, mesmo dia que a Mireille postou a foto do dela, mas só fui fotografar na quinta e postar hoje (procrastinação, eis meu sobrenome) XD
Como dito antes é um esmalte chapisco, suuuper pigmentado, que cobre perfeitamente já na primeira camada, fácil de aplicar e limpar os cantinhos. Possui um brilho legal ao vivo que nas fotos pode passar a impressão de ainda não ter secado totalmente.
Quando secou, eu lembrei do Sparkling Black, mas o Dior tem mais textura e brilha absurdamente mais *___*
Como estou com ele desde quarta, mais tarde pretendo trocar de esmalte novamente, então amanhã teremos mais foto de Halloween \o/
Bangour Village Hospital, Villa 21. After taking this photo an ear piercing scream filled the air.
In an abandoned hospital, in the middle of the night? I took the hint and left.
Squishington (aka Squishy) the Toilet Monster, Molly Coddle the Comfort Doll (discarded for the elegant Barbies...), and the true star, Mr Bumpy the Sock Monster who lived under the bed with the Dust Bunnies!
After Pee Wee's Playhouse, this might be the second-best Saturday morning show ever!
Yet totally mistreated by ABC while it was on. Constantly pre-empted for just about everything. Even the Christmas show! I seriously developed some animosity towards ABC and even went on a boycott of them for many years (which still has residuals) since I never knew what I might find running on the channel other than the scheduled and beloved Bump In The Night. From the reaction I often get to these toys, others (many who were well grown when this was on) felt the same way. STUPID ABC!!!!
:D
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.
UPDATE: THE TIME IS NOW! I will start to release my collection this week so if interested now is the time to get in contact. :)
.
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it) if interested.
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
Check out the other pics of these sweet characters.
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
Check out the other pics of these sweet characters.
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.
Squishington (aka Squishy) the Toilet Monster, Molly Coddle the Comfort Doll (discarded for the elegant Barbies...), and the true star, Mr Bumpy the Sock Monster who lived under the bed with the Dust Bunnies!
After Pee Wee's Playhouse, this might be the second-best Saturday morning show ever!
Yet totally mistreated by ABC while it was on. Constantly pre-empted for just about everything. Even the Christmas show! I seriously developed some animosity towards ABC and even went on a boycott of them for many years (which still has residuals) since I never knew what I might find running on the channel other than the scheduled and beloved Bump In The Night. From the reaction I often get to these toys, others (many who were well grown when this was on) felt the same way. STUPID ABC!!!!
:D
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
Check out the other pics of these sweet characters.
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it) if interested.
"…bump in the night" (Vancouver) - by Lisa Steele & Kim Tomczak
Curated by Paul Wong
This is a series of life-size photo-text panels featuring students from the Native Education College. Previous versions include Caen (France), Stuttgart (Germany), Barrie and Toronto (Ontario). This site-specific project is presented in partnership with InTransitBC at Canada Line Broadway-City Hall Station and in the storefront windows of 1965 Main Street.
This installation is part of a major exhibition of 21st century art by Lisa Steele and Kim Tomczak, "The Long Time" curated by Paul Wong, on display at On Main Gallery at 1965 Main Street until Sept 29,2012. The exhibit features the work of long-time collaborators Steele + Tomczak who have produced an extraordinary body of work investigating aspects of the self for over 30 years. The two are recipients of the 2005 Governor General’s Awards in Visual and Media Arts, and have received honorary doctorates from UBC Okanagan and Steele from OCAD University for their significant contributions to contemporary life, art and politics.
REMOVED: January 4th, 2013
onmaingallery.com/news/2012/08/13/the-long-time-21st-cent...
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
The Squishy here has a bit of a stain on his face here but it was just temporary (just not noticed until the pics were processed because the flash made it so obvious.)
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
Check out the other pics of these sweet characters.
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.
alpha 1se, 600. 14 seconds
i'm proud to say that this is one of three images selected for consideration for use in a upcoming PBS / WETA production, sheduled to air in 2009. The documentary films title is "Forgiveness", produced by "Helen Whitney Productions of NYC ".
An American LITANY
From gas-bags and blowhards and long leggety beasties
and things that go bump in the night
good Lord deliver us. *
Date: 2010
Source Type: Postcard
Printer, Publisher, Photographer: Larry Fulton
Postmark: None
Collection: Steven R. Shook
Postcard produced in a limited edition of 100 (not numbered) and signed by artist (L. FULTON '10).
This postcard was posted on Flickr with the express permission of Larry Fulton. Note that the copyright watermark appearing on the image does not appear on the original postcard.
Copyright 2010. Some rights reserved. The associated text may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Steven R. Shook.
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
Not the best pic, but I love the angle so there! :D
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
Check out the other pics of these sweet characters.
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
The Squishy here has a bit of a stain on his face here but it was just temporary (just not noticed until the pics were processed because the flash made it so obvious.)
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
Check out the other pics of these sweet characters.
~~
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.
alpha 1se, 600. 14 seconds
i'm proud to say that this is one of three images selected for consideration for use in a upcoming PBS / WETA production, sheduled to air in 2009. The documentary films title is "Forgiveness", produced by "Helen Whitney Productions of NYC".
Another shot of these great characters because I love them so!
Bumpy (the Sock Monster), Molly Coddle (the Comfort Doll), and Squishy (Squishington - The Toilet Monster) from "Bump In The Night" (a show totally sabotaged by ABC's constant preemptions).
The show aired (on occasion and often randomly %&#*# ABC!) from 1993 to 1995.
These are quite tall as obscure figures go. About 8 inches for the monsters and 9 inches for the doll.
The back of the box says:
"Mr. Bumpy, a mischievous sock-eating character, and his lovable pals, Squishington and Molly Coddle, Who prove there's truth to what every child suspects -- all of their toys really do come to life when they're not looking!"
Check out the other pics of these sweet characters.
All these (and more) need new homes as I'm going to a different country for an extended stay soon so send me a Flickr Mail message (access through the arrow that appears near my profile photo when mousing over it, or click on the little tan envelope that appears on my profile page) if interested.