HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Seventeen

Previously in this blog serial...

(Click here to read Chapter Sixteen) 

Now the HAUNTING continues...

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    I am waiting for Christine Abernathy-Woodhouse to say something.  She is just staring, her brown eyes looking right through me.  Maybe she’s thinking about how to respond or maybe I triggered an unwanted memory.  Perhaps she’s just ignoring me.  Growing uncomfortable, I take a bite of the candy stick.  

    She blinks at the sound and locks unwavering eyes with me, “I don’t know who you are or how you found me, but that book is ancient history.” 

    Feeling desperation under my skin, I completely forget about taking it slow, “I just want to know if the ending is true.” 

    “It doesn’t matter, kid.  What’s done is done.”  She casually crunches on the candy.

    “Please, I need to understand.”

    “There’s nothing to understand, kid.  The town was destroyed and rebuilt.  The boogeyman was vanquished and everyone moved on.  You should do the same.”  She emphasizes her point with another cracking bite. 

    “But when did Straker…” 

    “Just leave it alone, kid,” she interrupts, her even tone turning sympathetic.  “Forget the past and go live your life.  Take up a hobby or find a warm body to hold onto when the world doesn’t make sense.  That’s what I did.  Hell, that’s what he did.” 

    Christine Abernathy-Woodhouse takes a final loud bite of her candy stick and moves past me.  Stunned into silence, I turn to watch the scientist walk away, the white lab coat billowing behind her.  She was someone who was there, who saw what happened to the entire town, but I let her slip through my fingers.  I go through what I could have said to elicit a different response.  Maybe I should’ve explained about Tommy.  Maybe I should’ve told her about my parents.  Maybe it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference.

    I toss the remaining candy stick down with the rest of the litter and slowly walk back towards my car, feeling deflated and uncertain.  Somewhere behind me is the enormity of Stickler Hill, what it represents clutching at my soul.  It’s only a matter of time before I climb that wretched landmark, but her advice keeps ringing in my ears.  How can I fully let the past go after everything that’s happened?  

    The weight of this moment makes me want to go back to the Teeter-Totter and curl up in bed until dawn.  Hide away from myself, from everything until it’s time.  It’s a tempting notion, but I’d rather do something else instead.  As I reach for the necessary evil, it suddenly vibrates in my pocket.  I pull out my phone to a text from Eddie.  

Off work.  Gordon’s?  An hour?

    Meeting at Gordon’s Bar is exactly what I had in mind, even though I know there are other factors to consider.  The pain that brought me here.  The need to understand.  The expectation placed on my shoulders.  Hesitating for only a moment, I respond with a resounding yes.  Eddie Newcastle is one of the reasons I came back and I don’t want to spend my last night in Sturgeons alone. 

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The HAUNTING continues in…

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 

Freak Out, 

JLH 

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DARK EXCURSIONS is the perfect gift for the reader/soap opera fan in your life…

Click for more info

The Day I Slaughtered a Pumpkin

 A gardening friend gave me a pumpkin. 

What the hell am I supposed to do with a pumpkin? 

She suggested making a pie.  

I said I could try, but I had my doubts I would. 

Yet, I did.

Two, actually. 

I found a recipe on the Food Network website… 

(Click here for the details) 

…and then grabbed a big knife! 🔪 

First, I decapitated the stem, like I was about to carve a jack o’lantern.  Then I cut the pumpkin’s body in half and disemboweled it.  As if saving a souvenir from my kill, I placed the gooey, seedy guts safely aside.

Someone is ignoring the “No Smoking” sign

Throwing the two oiled-up halves in the oven for a half hour or so made it easier to slice the pumpkin meat from its skin.  Then I pounded the meat hard until it became a smooth, creamy substance.  Adding molasses, cinnamon, ginger and other stuff, I stirred until it was time to fill the store bought pie crusts.  (My deepest apologies to Ms. Floridia Minch) 

My pies use protection

Around an hour later, I had two (mostly) made from scratch pies.  Surprisingly, unlike the chocolate salt lick pie I made in home-ec class, my pumpkin pies were quite tasty.  I even shared one pie with my gardening friend, our mutual friend and a few librarians.  The best part about that was nobody but the pumpkin died from my baking experiment.

This is the day when 1 becomes 2

As for my souvenir, I washed the guts off the pumpkin seeds and let them dry.  Then I pored a little canola oil in a bowl, added a pinch of salt and mixed in the seeds.  After draining the excess oil, I baked them on a cookie sheet for 20 minutes at 350° F, turning the seeds every 5 minutes.  What I learned from this is that unborn pumpkins taste a lot like big sunflower seeds. 

Seeds of Sin?

I also learned that my grandma must have really, really loved us for some reason.  Why else would she have cooked multiple pies and dinners a year over many years?  I mean, I was wiped out just from making the two pies this one time.  

In other words, while I’m glad I made the pies, I don’t love anyone enough to make a habit out of slaughtering pumpkins. 😏

2021 - 2021 🪦 

Happy Thanksgiving or whatever.

Freak Out, 

JLH 

P.S.  click the pic ⤵️ to get hardcore thankful…

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In case you need to escape a family gathering… 

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Sixteen

 Previously in this blog serial...

(Click here to read Chapter Fifteen) 

Now the HAUNTING continues...

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    I am staring at my phone in the parking area of VDV Pharmacy.  The three little dots wave as I wait for Eddie’s response.  He says that his day has been busy but good.  I briefly explain my day has been informative, but it’s not over yet.  He wishes me good luck and promises to text when he’s off work.  I imagine Eddie’s father breathing down his neck, so I’m glad we are able to touch base at all. 

    Pocketing my phone, I get out of my car and walk through the small parking area, conflicting emotions fighting for attention.  I’m eager to talk more with Eddie but I’m anxious over speaking with Christine Abernathy-Woodhouse.  Straker’s book painted her as a logical scientist who hides her caring heart behind an extreme no-nonsense demeanor.  This fictional account makes me uncertain how she’ll react to the subject of ten years ago.  

    I enter the pharmacy, its  harsh lighting makes the afternoon sun appear dim in comparison.  Blinking my eyes, I take in the grey rows of toiletries, medicine and greeting cards spreading out before me.  Much like the library, this is a place I rarely visited as a kid and I can see why.  From the severely organized shelves to the intense clerk, nothing about it seems kid-friendly. 

    “May I help you, young man?” the clerk inquires.

    I flinch a little and face an older man with features as sharp as his tone.  “Yes, I’m looking for Christine Abernathy-Woodhouse.” 

    “Oh,” he utters with a barely discreet eye roll.  “She’s behind the pharmacy.” 

    “Thank you, sir.”  I start towards the far end of the store where prescriptions are filled, but the clerk corrects me. 

    “Not there!”  He doesn’t even try to hide rolling his eyes this time.  “She’s in the alley on her smoke break.”  

    I’m sure the look on my face matches the shock I feel.  Nowhere in Shadowtown did I get the impression the scientist smoked cigarettes or anything else.  Maybe the lawman used fiction to paint a prettier version of himself and his friends while exposing the ugly truth of others, such as Ms. Minch and my father.  

    Thanking the moody clerk again, I quickly vacate the pharmacy.  A sidewalk leads me around the building to an alley that I wouldn’t want to walk down at night.  The pavement appears wet even though it hasn’t rained since I arrived in Sturgeons.  Scraps of paper and other bits of litter are scattered about, making me watch my step.  I fully expect to see a huge rat scurry from one of the many overflowing trash cans.  

    Instead of a rat, I see Christine Abernathy-Woodhouse, with yellow-blond hair just like her fictional counterpart.  The tall woman is leaning against an exposed red brick wall, her clean white lab coat sticking out like a sore thumb.  Apparently the pharmacy couldn’t be bothered to panel the backside in the same stone-grey siding as the front, but it makes sense with the grungy surroundings.  

    I notice her cautiously noticing my approach.  Her tense body language warns me to take this slow, so I do the only thing I can think of, even though I don’t smoke.  “Got an extra one?”  

    She tilts her head, examining me for a moment before shoving a hand into a pocket and retrieving a rectangular pack.  I hesitate and then pull one out, but it’s not a cigarette.  The long white cylinder between my fingers is a candy stick and so is the one she is removing from her lips. 

    “What do you want, kid?”  

    I sense that a direct question from Christine Abernathy-Woodhouse demands a direct answer.  “My name is Jimmy Schroder and I have a question about Shadowtown.” 

______________

The HAUNTING continues in…

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 

Freak Out, 

JLH 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click the pic ⤵️ for a bloody good film review…

freakboy on film: MY HEART CAN’T BEAT UNLESS YOU TELL IT TO (2020)

One of my favorite things to do is to take a chance on a film I know little to nothing about.  Sometimes I watch because of a movie poster (The Sweet Hereafter - 1997) or a title (The Man Who Killed Hitler And Then The Bigfoot - 2018) or even because the film was released by a familiar company (Mangus!- 2011).  There has been a mixture of hits and misses over the years, but nothing detours me once my mind is set on a film. 

This thing I love doing continued recently at the library.  With my Mad Scientist Glasses on and focused, I was searching for something different to watch because I guess a freak can’t live on Andy Milligan films alone.  I pulled a recently added DVD off the shelf and studied its intriguing cover.  Two faces in profile were staring at each other with a long title in between on a white background.  The title was in red and black, but the font made it nearly impossible for my half-blind eyes to decipher.  Sometimes, if the words are large and plain enough, I can figure it out, but all I managed was… “MY…YOU TELL IT TO.”  

Between the two faces, one of which I thought looked angry, and the mystery of the title, I had to see what the hell this film was about.  Yes, I could’ve asked a librarian or my sister about the title and the synopsis on the back, but where’s the fun in that?  So I took a breath, popped in the disc and hit play. 

I want to tell you everything I saw, but I also don’t want to spoil anything.  Knowing less is more as you slowly get drawn into the hypnotic story.  A story of blood.  The blood that binds us.  The blood that fuels us.  The blood that destroys us.  The blood that is family.

Actors Patrick Fugit, Ingrid Sophie Schram and Owen Campbell create a believable family unit brimming with dysfunction and resentment.  It almost feels like you could encounter these damaged characters in real life.  Writer/director Jonathan Curtas allows the claustrophobic story to unfold in a visually stark, realistic way.  

In conclusion, I consider MY HEART CAN’T BEAT UNLESS YOU TELL IT TO a hit on my list and it’s worth your time if you enjoy a moody film that makes you question how far you would go to help a loved one.  

BTW, I figured out the title during an unexpected scene.

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words.

Freak Out, 

JLH 

P.S.  Click the pic ⤵️ for more about family dysfunction and blood…

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In case you want to go HAUNTING…

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Fifteen

 Previously in this blog serial...

(Click here to read Chapter Fourteen) 

Now the HAUNTING continues...

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    I am organizing my thoughts as the head librarian stares at me with his eager green eyes.  There are many things I could say about Benjamin Straker’s book.  Personal things about Tommy and our parents, about the traffic jam of fleeing humanity.  Things I’m not going to discuss with a complete stranger.  Instead I focus on the conclusion of Shadowtown, where the unbelievable answer is revealed. 

    “What the hell is this shit?” I ask, emphasizing the question by firmly pushing the book away. 

    His red hair glowing from the hanging light above us, Simon Hollis finally releases his thoughts, “Exactly!  I mean, I know it’s designated as fiction, even though it’s obviously based on what happened back then, but come on!  I can’t believe that ridiculous, preposterous ending is true!” 

    I nod my head in complete agreement.  “How is anyone supposed to believe that a repressed psychopath, living in a dilapidated mansion in the woods, destroyed an entire town using a giant swarm of bugs?” 

    “Cybernetically enhanced bugs,” Simon corrects, his tone droll and his expression lively.  “I don’t know what actually happened, but Straker must have been on a powerful hallucinogenic when he wrote this.”  

    Simon makes a good point.  He doesn’t know what happened and neither do I.  This brings up a question that I should’ve asked Eddie, but I was so overwhelmed by seeing him again to even think about it.  “What do people in Sturgeons say about what happened ten years ago?” 

    The head librarian leans forward, a conspiratorial look on his face.  “They don’t.  Well, not  directly.  They just whisper between the stacks and in public restrooms.”  He slips into a wry grin, “I’ve overheard talk of sinkholes, earthquakes, government experiments and all sorts of nutball theories.” 

    “Interesting, but not surprising.”  Thinking about the four characters at the end of Shadowtown, I wonder if there is someone in Sturgeons who knows more.  “Assuming Straker is the sheriff in the book and Clyde Woodhouse is the deputy, who are the two scientists?” 

    “Well, the tall drink of hot nerd with a mop top became Straker’s husband.”  Simon gazes off for a second, as if remembering something pleasant before continuing, “Then the intimidating blond woman became the bride of Woodhouse.  They still live here in hetero-centric bliss or whatever.” 

    “Do you know where I can find her?”  The notion of talking with a scientist sounds better than chatting with an embarrassing childhood police crush.

    He checks the time on his phone, “She should still be at the pharmacy.  Just ask for Christine Abernathy-Woodhouse.” 

    “Thank you, Simon.  You’ve been a real help.”  I stand up, ready to visit the bride of Woodhouse, if she’ll give me the time of day.

    “You’re welcome, Jimmy, but hold on.”  The head librarian gets up, places Shadowtown back on the dusty shelf and then faces me.  “I’ll walk you out.”

    As we leave the library basement, Simon confirms my suspicions by thanking me for chatting about Straker’s book.  It seems I am the first person to ever ask about Shadowtown and this made his day.  I tell him that I’m glad to hear it and he stops me near the main desk with a possibility. 

    “Perhaps we can meet up later.  You know, get to know each other better.”

    Maybe it’s the unexpected proposition, his sly wink or an obviously eavesdropping clerk, but I fumble through my words while thinking of Eddie, “Sounds nice, but I’m…um, kind of…busy.”

    “I understand.”  Simon Hollis sees right through my clumsy response, “I hope he’s worth it.”

    “He is,” I reply with a smile, and it’s true.  Eddie Newcastle is worth it.  However, as I leave the library, I question if I’m really worth it for Eddie.

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The HAUNTING continues in…

   

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 

Freak Out, 

JLH 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click the pic ⤵️ to explore other fantasies of my deranged mind… 🧠 

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Fourteen

Previously in this blog serial...

(Click here to read Chapter Thirtteen) 

Now the HAUNTING continues...

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    I am reading the translated side of Benjamin Straker’s book.  The library basement evaporates around me as I devour every revealing word.  It’s quickly apparent that Shadowtown is a fictional account of the events leading up to the destruction of Sturgeons ten years ago, but the names have been changed to protect the innocent and not so innocent.  Even with this, I recognize the disguised faces and locations, especially those of Tommy and Stickler Hill. 

    An early chapter details a sunrise breakfast shared between young lovers on a certain hill.  The lawman imbues the scene with gentle warmth, perhaps as a contrast to the horror that will follow.  On their walk home through the inviting woods, the young man is attacked by a dark mass of something. Terrified, the young woman watches as her lover seems to be consumed by the darkness, his screams echoing through the trees.

    I nearly stop reading at this point.  My entire being feels the fear and pain Tommy must have experienced.  This makes me think about Tracy Newcastle.  I never understood what she witnessed and why she left Tommy behind.  If what transpires in the book is remotely close to what happened that Sunday morning, I can’t blame her for running for her life.  I might have done the same thing. 

    Despite my hesitation, I keep reading.  There’s more I need to know and I soon read about a judgmental old lady spying out her window.  She watches as a neighbor disappears into darkness, almost exactly how Ms. Minch described it to me.  I’m surprised she didn’t sue the lawman for portraying her fictional counterpart exactly like she is in real life.  Then again, maybe she did.  It would explain why the book has been relegated to obscurity. 

    Next is a chapter describing how the residents of the small town are fed up with all the disappearances and lack of answers.  An angry mob confronts the sheriff at a bar one night and then, the next morning, everyone is fleeing town.  This is when a character gathers up a group of men and instigates a fight with the sheriff.  Death seems imminent, but the character’s wife intervenes by stepping in between the men and the pummeled sheriff.  I clearly recognize my father’s rage and my mother’s compassion. 

    It would be easy to slip back into that memory again, but the last chapter holds my focus on a tragic scene.  The sheriff, his deputy and two scientists discover what is happening and who is responsible, but it’s too late.  The small town is obliterated by the darkness.  Wiped off the map as the four of them safely watch from the top of a certain hill.  I turn to the epilogue, where there is an inspiring speech of hope for the future amid the destruction.  Then the sheriff and the deputy kiss their respective new lovers. 

    I slowly close Shadowtown and flinch a little at the sight of Simon Hollis.  I forgot he joined me at the table and it weirds me out that he’s been watching me this whole time.  He must not have any pressing head librarian duties, but at least he stayed quiet while I was reading.  Simon locks eyes with me, his expression like an overfilled balloon about to burst.  It then dawns on me that he has probably been waiting for years to talk with someone about the lawman’s book, and I definitely have something to say. 

______________

The HAUNTING continues in…

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 

Freak Out, 

JLH 

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Click the pic ⤵️ to experience the latest video for The FreakOptic Files…