Happy Halloween!!!

Greetings ghostly ghouls, goblins, and other monsters... Happy Halloween! I hope it wasn't to cold for you trick or treaters football game spectators (that's what I did.). I say it was much too cold for a costume so I wore a mask.

Some people were much more creative and had face paint on, or actual costumes. Besides the costumes let's talk about what's really important. The candy! Did you get any? Even if you didn't go trick or treating did you at least go out and buy yourself a bag of your favorite?

And we can't forget the scariness of Halloween. Did anyone spook you? Were you driving home in the dark and thinking of a scary movie so you slightly freaked out because you live out in the country?Well I did that.

Now that today is the last day of my thirteen days of Halloween, I would like to point out that tomorrow is November 1st. No duh, right? Well this brings a slight panic to mind when I keep seeing NaNoWriMo everywhere on the intraweb. So my scarryish question for you is: Are you going to participate in NaNoWriMo?

For those who don't know what NaNoWriMo is I will explain. It stands for National Novel Writing Month. It lasts through November when people scramble through their thoughts to combine all of their craziest ideas to make a 50,000 word document in one month. Easier said than done.

I'm going to try, but we will see how far I can go. Just an FYI: You don't fail if you don't finish it in November it's really and truly the thought that counts. I am challenging you to put your words on paper and try to participate in NaNoWriMo.

Creepy HALLOWEEN story...one day left!

Plunging has been used so many times but maybe that's because that's really the best way to describe it. The knife plunging into the soft fleshy part of his abdomen. The blood pooling around the blade and filling the gap that I forced in him, after I pull the blade out terrified by what I've done.

The tip of the knife points to the sky and the blood drips down the blade finding my fingers tightly fastened around the handle. The warmth of the blood startles me and I let the knife fall. I flinch at the sound of the knife clattering on the ground.

His eyes, alert, alive, stare at me devouring ever ounce of me. Guilt consumes me the same way his eyes do. I wonder, for a moment, if this is how he felt as he attacked me over and over again.

His hands once clamping around his wound, twitch; they don't twitch with the cold shivers of death. They twitch with action. My numbed body can hardly digest his movements until I feel his hands clamped around my neck. I dropped the knife, that's probably what he was waiting for, he was ready to attack again.

My nails claw at his hand, struggling to force him off of me. If he is going to choke the life out of me then he is going to have to stare into my eyes as I die. But the gleam of cruelty in his eye suggests that he doesn't care. If guilt of killing me isn't going to stop him then I have to.

Darkness thickens along the edges of my vision and I can feel my muscles weakening as they gasp for air, energy, anything that will sustain them. My hand plummets at his wound forcing him to let go of me. He struggles to breathe but I don't fall to guilt. I pick up the knife, greeting the stickiness of the blood that stains the handle.

Over and over I plunge the blade into him. Smiling at each scream that bursts out of his mouth. Welcoming the most painful shudders that he contorts. Until everything stops. His eyes frozen in their horrific emptiness, the emptiness that I caused him.

How can I make the decision that stole the thought from a person's eyes, the breath from their lungs. I should be terrified, I am terrified but not because he's dead because I don't feel bad. I don't feel anything. I feel more alive now than I ever was. But who...what does that make me? I know who I am now. I am a monster.

Almost to Halloween!

Our football teams district game, this year, lands on Halloween. That means dressing up in our Halloween costumes to a football game! I'm excited! There is one dilemma however. I want to be warm and all of the costumes I could wear would not keep me warm.

So I have come to the decision that maybe I'll just do some crazy makeup idea to make me dressed up for this game. So I was thinking, kitten makeup. It would be easy right? All I have to do is get some eyeliner and draw whiskers and bam I'm dressed up.

There was one thing that I have been dying to try even though I'm pretty sure it will not turn out how I want it to because I am a picky picky person. And that is this:

The cat idea might be my best bet unless I go all out and do this:
We will see how this goes...

Day...whatever...

The moment I found him everything changed. My innocents ended, in just one second, just one glance. Every time I blink I can see his emptiness, his eyes glazed over with the horrifying blankness. The blood, that stained the once beautiful rich soil of where grass was turned up, may never leave my memories.

I came here to mourn my cousin, my friend and instead I now mourn my innocents. I mourn for the life of a person I don't know. A life that never entwined with mine until death parted him from this world.

He shouldn't matter to me. He should be just a person in a cemetery, like all the rest, like my cousin, but somehow seeing his emptiness, his blood draped across the mound of dirt that hides another person from the rest of the world; somehow it changes everything. Me. It changes me.

Who was he before I found him? Before his blood spilt onto the dirt? Before his eyes glazed over, mimicking glass?

I shake my head and bite my lip. I don't care. I don't care. I tell myself but it doesn't keep the tears from building in my eyes and hazing my contact with the world. This is ridiculous of me. I squeeze my hands into fist so hard that my fingernails bite my palm. I don't even know this man. It doesn't matter. I ball my fists up so tight that I can feel my fingernails cutting into my skin.

I feel a hand on my shoulder before I register the investigators voice. He repeats himself. "A counselor is on the way."

I hold my breath and nod. The investigator looks me over, his lips set in a line and then his eyes catch notice of my hand. He lingers near me like he's trying to comfort me without words. But I don't need to be comforted. I let my hands clench harder into my palm.

The investigator notices and grabs my hand. He holds my fist between his hands, trying to loosen it without force. Eventually the tension does loosen and my fists come apart. My fingernails are red with blood, my blood. This lifeless body has damaged me. It's because of him that I feel like curling into a ball. Because of him I have inflicted pain on myself, even if I don't feel it.

Day 5...I think

(This may not be a spooky, creepy, or eerie post for Halloween but I think that it is valid.)

It's almost Halloween and that means candy! What candy should you buy? Well I feel like the answer is obvious chocolate. Don't believe me? Then maybe you should check for yourself...

If you know what the best Halloween candy to buy is then your are probably wonder what the worst could possibly be. Well you can check that too.

In my opinion, however, chocolate is not the best. My favorite was always the really hard to find sugar sticks that came two to a tiny box. I don't know what they were called but I would always pick them out of the candy bowl, except for one so no one would get suspicious and I would keep them all for myself. ;)

Day: 6

She screams so loud the speakers make cracking noises. "Help me! Help me, someone!" Over and over again, desperate attempts to plea with me and when that doesn't work, anyone else who can hear her. But no one can, I made sure that she was so isolated that no one would find her, but just in case she lucks out and someone does come close enough to hear, I have made the small shack soundproof.

A smile creeps onto my face when I see that all of her struggling has cause a wound on her elbow. I would have thought that she was smart enough to tell that she couldn't get out, but she's one of those girls that won't give up and is dumb enough to try anything.

Her screams start to quiet down for a moment and so I turn up the volume. "Why me?" She asks, like every girl that has been trapped in that small shack. For some strange reason the answer is my favorite, because I chose you. Really it is a compliment but none of them take it as one, instead they whimper or beg or scream--something loud and annoying. Maybe if they were quieter we could spend more time together.

My dad, the one that taught me all of my strategies, has always said I pick the wrong ones. But he doesn't agree with anything I do or however I do it. I don't care what he thinks, he left me to do this chore by myself. I used to believe that once I started getting better at it then he would be pleased with me, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.

"Let me out of here!" Her voice, once soft, now has a roughness to it from screaming so much. I hate the sound. I turn the volume down again but close up on her. I better leave soon so I can get to her before seven, I don't like to be out there when it's so cold, neither does she or any of the previous ones, I'll bring her a blanket.

I leave the computer screen to get a blanket in the living room. When I walk past the computer again I can't help but smile at her quietness, I turn up the volume again. Maybe she will listen to me and won't scream so much. I can't help but notice her pretty brown hair collecting in natural curls, she will look very pretty resting against the tree, like I have planned. None of their parents thank me for making them look so beautiful when their natural rosy blood is no longer bright and pulsing under their cheeks.

She screams again, "help me!"

I roll my eyes and walk away from the computer. When I fling the door open I hit the ground, and hard, so hard that my back aches and my lungs, also scream, but instead for air not freedom. They roll me onto my stomach and cuff me behind my back.

"You are under arrest for kidnap and seven murder cases." I stare at the vest that says FBI on it. My smile widens, I don't have to keep trying to please my dad even if he is gone I know he was still watching. Now he can't. Then I frown, now she's free, but a smile reforms me, I am free too.

Day: 7

I was browsing pinterest and came across a freaky craft that I had to share:
Yes, that is a head in the jar. But thankfully it isn't real. If you want to know how to get a person's head in a jar then I would click here. Again, this isn't real because if it was that would be creepy and a problem to the person who would be in the jar...and I try to avoid problems when possible.

Day: 8

I heard this song the other day and I remember dancing to it in the morning.

The days leading up to Halloween were my favorite all because of the anticipation--the anticipation of how my costume would look and how much candy I would get. Still I think they are more exciting than Halloween itself because we have silly songs like this.

Day 9

Pumpkin carving time! I wish I had the skill to do any of these:







 

Here's some ideas, carve away! And happy carving.

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Day 10

The wet streaks are clearly visible on my face as I stare into the three sixty mirrors that surround me. The chill of a light breeze leaves goose bumps on my arms and legs and the ice of the cuffs around my wrists and ankles make my body twist with shivers.

A voice comes over an intercom that makes the small area echo with a gnarly voice. "There's no use, you won't figure out the maze."

"Please." More tears stream down my face and a sob shakes my body.

"You will have twenty four hours and if it's not completed, you will suffer."

A buzz rings my ears and the cuffs open, freeing my limbs and my spirit. My spirit is clearly visible as I watch myself spring out of the chair. I push each mirror until one opens and the dark hallway is inviting me to explore and find freedom.

At the end of the hallway are three more hallways each one a different color; red--a bright waking color, dark blue--almost black, and yellow--a much brighter vibrant color. I pick the one on my left, red. It ends short so I go into the next one, dark blue.

I am led to three more choices, this time doors with the letters; E, I, and O. I start on my right but that one ends after a misleading turn. Then I pick "I" the hallway gets darker the further I go. Complete darkness fills me with despair, if the hallway stays like this then I will never leave.

Heat radiates off of the walls causing me to pull my hand away with a sudden burst shock. Something in me, perhaps that small voice in my head, tells me to go back. Curiosity makes me linger though, but I fight the urge to solve the question of the sudden heat with the more urgent desire I have to find a way out.

I turn back and walk for hours, but is really just a matter of minutes waisted. Then I turn down "E" and I keep walking, no matter how much I want to give up I don't.

I am brought to three more doors but these are more terrifying. One door reads, stabbing, the other door reads asphyxiation, and the last door says shooting. Could they all really be a door to my terrible ending?

My palms start to slicken so I wipe them on my pants. There has to be some logic to these decisions. Stabbing and shooting are both very physical endings when a person can asphyxiate from gas. And asphyxiation is so much longer. It is also a different form, he could have said asphyxiating but he didn't.

I open the door with my breath deep at the bottom of my stomach, leaving no air in my lungs. I start to sprint until I come to the next doors but this time there are four decisions. The doors now read, in order, "THE END IS NEAR" each door having it's own word. I don't want to die, if that's what's implied. I close my eyes and push open the door "THE". When I open my eyes I realize that I'm still alive and I keep walking.

Is this some kind of sick game to him? Why does he put words on the doors? Or why were the hallways painted? My thoughts scramble for answers. Blue, "E", "Asphyxiation", "The" they have nothing in common. I cling to one thought though, one outrageous silly thought: all together the first words spell BEAT.

I stop in my tracks at the sight of more doors. This is a game to him and he wants me to know it. My next choices are "HIDE OR SEEK" all in order, referring to the game. But what word is BEATH, BEATO, or BEATS? Is he trying to tell me that he's beating me? But why would it be plural?

I sit down in front of all the doors and try to think. There has to be a better explanation. I think from the most recent door all the way to the first hall. The halls were so bright except for the hall that brought me here, it was darker than the others. I get up and smile as I realize that I can finish this word game. HIDE is the door I push open, because DEATH is the word he wants me to spell.

The lights are off and it's so dark that if I waved my hand in front of my face I wouldn't be able to see it, not even an outline. The door closes with a heavy click, it's locking me in.

"I gave you a choice and you chose death."

The sound of a machine comes on and I run to the door for help, I try to bang on it but no one is there to help me. I am trapped here, left to die. That's when I feel the heat again but this time it comes from the floor and I start to notice the floor slipping out from underneath me.

The machine makes a shrilling sound and stops, but it stops with a jostle of movement and I fall.

Halloween: Day 11

We prowl the aisle looking for nothing in particular. As we make our way to the candy aisle a man in all black stops at the end of the aisle and peers at us with a grueling smile. I stare at him for a second and smile back. Lila tugs my arm and pulls my attention to the bag of candy that sits on the shelf.

"That man..." I start but I don't finish.

"What man?" Lila looks at the end of the bare aisle and then back at me, confused.

"Never mind."

We wander around the rest of the empty store, howling with laughter as we throw rubber balls at each other. Then I see him again, as he walked out of the outdoors aisle. He turns and stops when he sees us. This time he doesn't smile, he just stares.

"Lila there he is."

But as I focus more on her face I realize that something is wrong. She looks concerned, but not for me, she's looking past me. I say her name but she doesn't respond. Her eyes seem glazed over with fascination.

"Remy, he's coming towards us."

I look past her, and see the man standing still. What does she mean he's coming towards us, and how could she possibly know anyway she's not even looking...

I turn around, shocked to see another man dressed in all black, his hood up and a black cloth draped over his face so all that is visible is his eyes. He does come toward us with a heavy but urgent step. This isn't good.

I don't think I just run. I run and hope that Lila is following me. My lungs burn and I gasp for air, soon I'm reassured that Lila followed me when I hear her gasping as well. I press forward with all my strength but my legs still quiver.

I take a turn and somehow end up in the Halloween aisle with all of the costumes and decorations. We slow down to a walk, every other second glancing behind us, until we stop.

"Who do you think they were?"

My heart accelerates as I think of the answer. "Whoever they were, they aren't safe. We should leave."

Lila nods and we start walking towards the end of the aisle. My heart rate is starting to slow down as I think of home and safety within my grasp. Then the man walks to the edge of the aisle and stands in our way. I give a quick back glance and my heart racks against my ribs as I see no way out. Another man in all black with cloth over his face stands in the way too. We are trapped.

When I turn back around the man is two steps closer and my heart is two beats faster as well. He gives a crooked, demented smile and Lila screams from behind me. I tell myself not to look back but I do anyway. The man with the cloth holds her limp body in her arms with a cloth covering her mouth.

My eyes spring open as I feel a pair of hands around me and then a cloth covers my mouth too. The lights begin to dim and the etched outline of Lila's limp body is the last thing I see before the lights go off.

Halloween: Day 12

When I first saw this picture it was in the summer when I was ten years old and I was amazed by how it was like two separate pictures in one. I thought it was the coolest thing ever.

The school year came and it was a difficult year, not just for me but also for my school because our principal was diagnosed with cancer. Eventually my birthday came up but it didn't start off so great, I woke up at five in the morning with stomach pains, but they soon disappeared. After I got up and got ready for school I opened my presents and this picture was one of them I had completely forgotten about this picture.  I was so excited about it that I brought it to school and on the bus I would show my friends and they thought it was cool too.

However when I walked down the hallway things were different, people weren't walking around like usual. Everyone was lined up and sitting on the floor against the wall, quietly. I kept the picture in my backpack knowing that this wasn't the time to show my birthday present, and I was right it wasn't the time. Our principal died the morning of my birthday.

After that day I hid the picture because it frightened me but if someone happens to find it buried underneath my books, which some people have I tell them the story. A picture's worth a thousand words.

Thirteen Days of Halloween: Day 13

Since there are thirteen days until Halloween I am going to blog everyday. (Like how ABC does the twenty five days of Christmas. Yeah, I know, it's going to be hard but I'm gonna try.) The point of me doing this is because of the sketchiness of Friday the thirteenth, but you probably already understood that. These post are going to be anywhere from a short scary story, a freaky picture/video, a Halloween craft or whatever else this brain of mine can conjure up.

Enjoy the thirteen days of Halloween, my fellow goblins and ghouls.

***

This is a car advertisement from Great Britain. When they finished filming the ad director noticed a strange mist moving along side the vehicle, they later found out that a year earlier someone had died in that same spot. The ad was never broad casted on television because of the strange ghostly phenomenon of the strange unexplainable white mist. If you look closely and watch the front end of the car after it clears the trees you can see the mist and how it follows the car. Watch the video for yourself and decide if it's a ghost or just a mist.

I thought it was pretty ghostly myself. ;)

Why Tweak the Curriculum?

(Yes the pun was intended. And no this isn't a slam on my parents.)

My nonfiction class was going to read the book TWEAK: GROWING UP ON METHAMPHETAMINES but because the book was too...lets say vulgar, we could not read it. My teacher made a wise decision, a decision backed by research to not have us read the books for our curriculum. If she had remembered to send out permission forms then we would have read it, unless a parent would have disagreed with the material. Which is possible considering the up rise it caused in some schools (primarily on the East coast).

This class is made up of juniors and seniors, the next generation, young adults. Whatever you want to call us... The point being that we are going to go out into the world and not know what to expect because we have been sheltered all our lives. This book, though vulgar, gives us a different perspective to life that our parents don't want to show us because they are too afraid that we might find that life isn't always a bed of roses.

There are reasons to be afraid of what we might uncover while reading this book. But. But it's better than finding out the hard way. It's better to experience this life through a character rather than our own lives. Maybe it is vulgar but we are growing up and we are going to find that life is real and we might even be faced with the decision of whether or not to do drugs. As vulgar as this book might be it could influence our decisions, but if we can't read it then it won't have any impact on us, including a positive impact.

To be ready for the world later we have to have glimpses of what it is really like. This book would not only show some difficult decisions and the affect of those decisions but it also is a good sign of hope. The author has obviously come along way from being addicted to drugs to writing a book. So my conclusion is that if people wouldn't dwell on the negative in this book then they might find a better message, and we might be able to read a book that most of the class was interested in, and it wouldn't cause an up rise in schools.

Perceiving Quotes

In case you haven't really noticed I'm kind of a quote person. I can't really explain why but there's just something about a serious quote that inspires me. So, anyways I saw this quote on my teachers desk and he explained what he thought about it. When I read the quote I thought something totally different, but I still understand his points.

"It's always about choices but it's not about choosing between two roads. It's about choosing from countless possibilities. Choose one, and you give up not just the other but all the others. And you never know if you've chosen the right one until it's too late to change your mind."
 

First I will point out that my teacher said this quote was about Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken. However my teacher said he liked the poem because he thought as if like, if he was having a bad day how should he act. How would it affect a student if he chose to give a student an eighth hour compared to yelling at them?

The thoughts that were evoked by this quote mainly focused on my future. Where am I going to go to college? What do I really want to major in? What do I want to do with the rest of my life? That is the scariest question of all because I want to make the right decision. That's what makes this quote sink in, because of that question and the last sentence of this quote.

I like this quote because it helps me understand that there are so many possibilities out there and I have the ability to use those possibilities. Even if I make the wrong decision, which is likely, I can still make another decision. I may not know if I made the right decision until it's too late to change my mind but I can always make another decision based on previous ones.

Hearing my teachers opinion on this quote opens my eyes on how people perceive things differently. So, I would love to hear what opinions you might have on this quote. Feel free to comment in the the comments below. :)

When Strength is Too Much

In one of my classes we read a book and this quote just so happened to be in it:

"Anyone who looks with anguish on evils so great must acknowledge the tragedy of it all; and if anyone experiences them without anguish, his condition is even more tragic, since he remains serene by losing his humanity." 

        --Augustine of Hippo

 I think it is depressing, if it's true; but in my opinion, it is not.

From the quote I understood that it is depressing to think that people should hurt; that it is healthy for a person to hurt. No matter how strong a person is at one point they have to break, and if they don't then they probably weren't strong in the first place--they were just numbed, and that is weakness.

Ideally, this quote explains that numbness is the greatest tragedy. It tells us that if a person doesn't show anguish then there is something wrong with them. Every person deserves a moment when they can be poked and bleed. Bleeding signifies that you are alive, that you still care for others and yourself. The problem occurs when one person is poked, but doesn't bleed, when they don't care to see the blood that comes out and then they claim it is just broken skin.

In my opinion this quote is not only wrong, but it makes me realize how sad the truth is. To me it is sad that human beings were designed to be weak at one point. All our lives we want to be strong, but sometimes strength is to much. We don't want others to think we are weak so we scold ourselves for giving in to the natural need of comfort, of natural actions like crying. We see others strong and put together, ultimately seeing the best of them, but we judge ourselves behind closed doors and we think something is wrong with us. Then, because of what we see we train ourselves to be the same; strong and put together. We become calloused on the outside and hold our tears in, only crying on the inside.

This quote is wrong in my opinion because, people can hold themselves together, very well, but on the inside they might be torn apart. This quote only portrays what we see, but not how the other person feels. Thus there is no way to tell how cold a person is unless you can share the same feelings, unless you see them behind their closed doors too.