%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  Re-dedicated - April 1, 2021, Brother Nature's views from the Winnipeg River SE Manitoba |
|
My Writing.com experience continues...30 Day Blog Challenger, Andre the blog Monkey's Banana Bar Founder, Aging Baby Boomer. Here you'll find a warm welcome, maybe I'll make you laugh out loud - That's my goal. Thanks for visiting. |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO  MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 8, 2020 Share a story from your childhood when you did something you weren’t supposed to. Did you get caught? Okay, I get it. This is like one of those FBI stings, where you get a bunch of people together by catering to some kind of common interest, then get them to confess to crimes they've committed in their past. Alright, I'll go first. I have a few stories to choose from, and even more, if we can loosely define 'childhood' Me and the hoodlums, as we were collectively referred to, pulled off a pretty sophisticated stunt back in the day. (Way back) (And we did it at night, actually) Step one was hatching the plan. IT WAS NOT MY IDEA. Once we had our stunt (these days we might get away with calling it 'performance art') planned we spent some time gathering materials. We gathered one evening and fabricated a life-size adult male dummy. We dressed it up in a sweater, blue jeans, and a jean jacket. Friday night we took the dummy for a walk down quiet back lanes until we arrived at the back of the Main St. Theater. Two of the hoodlums took the dummy to the rooftop of the theater. The rest of us walked around to the front entrance of the theater. I forget what movie was playing that night, but it was opening night and people were lined-up halfway down the block. (exactly to plan) Me and my hoodlings nonchalantly join the line of moviegoers. Now the boys on the roof appear near the edge holding the dummy, one from the back and the other face to face with the dummy. They're standing on the roof above the crowd but not directly above the crowd. You have to be intentionally looking up to see them. That's where I come in. My role in this was to shout loudly while pointing towards the roof, "holy-shit look at that" (or something like that) THAT'S ALL I DID. So the people all look up to see what's going on because of my convincing acting, the two hoodies are beating the crap out of the dummy, then they toss it/him off the roof to the cold hard concrete below. Two of the front entrance crew worked on dummy recovery, while I monitored the crowd for reactions/comments. The crowd was mostly confused, but we all thought it was the greatest stunt ever. We still talk about it from time to time whenever members of the old gang get together. We never got caught. You got nothing on me FBI! |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 7, 2020 What skill (craft, instrument, sport, art, etc) do you wish you could do but can’t? What’s stopping you from learning? Save and Edit I lost my first entry because my laptop crashed. I was sitting there considering the merits of skills. I wondered if 'instruments' referred to 'musical instruments' because I'd wish to be able to play the saxophone. I wrote a little blurb about how I took clarinet lessons in school, but it didn't work out for me. The wooden reed in the mouthpiece was unfinished, and it was (like fingernails on a chalkboard) bothersome to me. When I blew into it the reed would vibrate and annoy my teeth, then there was this horrid squeaky high pitched squeal which hurt my ears. I swear I would have busted that clarinet across my knee if my dad didn't first demand that I never bring that fucking flute home from school ever again. I sat there giggling to myself about how the clarinet was a second choice instrument because I had first tried the trumpet, but dad told me, "If you blow that horn one more time I'll wrap it around your fucking neck." What I found funny was, after my experience with the trumpet and clarinet (and I didn't even mention my recorder concertos from grade school) What on earth makes me think playing the saxophone is a good idea? Then, snap! Blue screen of death. Save and Edit Sunset Bay temperature today is currently -22 with a windchill factor which makes it feel like -31 (that's Celsius) There's a winter storm heading our way that will deliver 30CM of snow (nearly 2 feet for those still on the ancient system of measurement) Team Canada won 'GOLD' in the World Jr. Hockey Tournament. These two news tidbits tell me that winter is here, and I've strayed off course on today's blog prompt. Toodle loo |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 6, 2020 Write about something that makes you squeamish. What is icky, gross, or just plain “yuck!” Is there anything that makes other people shiver with disgust that doesn’t bother you? I used to have no fear. I think most young boys feel that way. With me, it was a noticeable trait because of my size. I was always the smallest kid in class in every grade in school. But, when it came to sports or any type of physical competition, or disputes. Oh yes, there will be disputes. I had no problem going up against the biggest kids amongst my peers, mainly because I had three older brothers who I lived, fought, and played hard with at home. We played this game at home, some people might call it rough-housing, we didn't have a name for it, and it only had one rule... The game ends when someone gets hurt. Our mom actually invented that rule because she would yell from the kitchen, "You have to keep going until someone gets hurt." We would laugh, then keep going until someone got hurt. This is also why sarcasm is not the best way to assert parental control. So from my perspective when it came to my peers... even the biggest kid was smaller than my smallest older brother, and there was usually only one of them. Point being I never had deep concerns about being hurt or have any fear of engaging in a physical competition of sorts. I've also always had a passion for speed. Whatever it was I wanted it to go faster. combine those two points alone and it's easy to imagine that I wasn't a stranger to suffering the odd injury along the way. So it's funny that... Now, I can't stand to see any form of physical contact that would result in an injury, any form of violence, car wrecks, etc. I have a hard time watching blooper type videos. When I see a child bang his or her head or a skateboard stunt, not land well I cringe. Those videos aren't funny to me. I can't stand going fast now. I opened the throttle up on our snowmobile last winter on a groomed trail on a wide-open lake and I had to shut it down because I was going so fast I scared myself. As far as disgusting is concerned ... everything is disgusting. I have become very good at hiding how disgusted I am with pretty much everything all the time. I was squeamish as a youngster but hid it well. As I matured and aged I became more sensitive I guess. Bottom line... You people disgust me, but I don't let on. One of my life-long friends knows this about me, and of course, tortures me relentlessly. He says and does disgusting things. He sends me disgusting photos, truly offensive stuff, not even legal, if he sent that shit to a stranger they would put his ass in jail. He calls me on the phone and tells me disgusting things, details, it's just too much. If I don't take his call, he leaves disgusting messages. Yep. |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 5, 2020 What music makes you want to dance? COME ON! LET'S DANCE. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] One of my early childhood memories (between ages 3 and 4) is how I went out of my mind when the song from the singing nun, Dominque was played on the radio. The floor model radio would play, tuned to CJOB, in our living room every weekday morning, while my four older siblings readied themselves for their school day. This went on over a period of several days during a cold prairie winter, here's how I recall it. The song Dominique would be played each morning. I would be anxious for my siblings to leave for school before the song was played. It was important that I had the house to myself. It was also important that I have our red plastic bowl close at hand. I remember some mornings, almost pushing my siblings out the door. Then the song would play. GO AHEAD PLAY THE SONG [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] The instant the music starts I run as fast as possible to the radio and twist the volume control to FULL BLAST. I sometimes paused to hug the radio and push my ear firmly against the speaker. Maybe because I was too young to dance, I would run. I would run circles around the oval coffee table as fast I could, even faster. I usually had the red plastic bowl stashed under the coffee table. I would stop, only briefly, to put the red plastic bowl on my head, like the greatest hat ever! Then I'd go back to running. The song blared, out of control loud, and it was never loud enough for me. I could never run fast enough, the red plastic bowl could never be red enough. As I ran my circles I would take the red plastic bowl hat off and shake it frantically as I ran. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. When the song ended, I would collapse on the living room floor exhausted, spent. My mom, who I always I assumed stayed in the kitchen and didn't secretly watch me while pissing herself laughing, would step over my limp body on her way to turn the radio volume down. The song still has some strange sort of hold on me, and no other song has affected me in quite the same way. My go-to songs to get people up on the dance floor I'm a Man' - Joe Jackson Hippy Hippy Shake - Beatles (or anybody else) Pump it Up - Elvis Costello And for a slow one, no red plastic bowl required  'True Love Ways' - Buddy HollyBust a move! |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 4, 2020 What books and/or movies are on your list to read/watch this year? What are your “go to” genres? I am a keeper of lists, you got me there. I keep lists of items I need to acquire or re-stock and I keep lists of chores and projects I need or want to do. My items lists get tossed and rewritten most of the time. When I'm out shopping my list is usually sitting on the counter at home. My chores and projects list keeps growing. I make new lists, then add the old list items to it. I merge three or four lists on to one big list. Sometimes I cross things off the list, like all the chores and projects listed for our house in Regina, I crossed them off the list when we moved to Manitoba. These lists drive me crazy, but it's kinda fun. I live vicariously through my lists. I enjoy books and movies. I don't see a point in making watch or read lists, so I don't do it. But if I did... It might look something like this... Books in 2020 I've been thinking about re-reading Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. (There are four books in the trilogy) Other than that I don't have anything to list as far as new books. I do most of my reading online these days. The last book I purchased was *100 by Norb Aiken AKA Fivesixer   I said that I would also purchase a copy of **On Purpose by Julie D - PUBLISHED!  but I haven't done that yet.We have a list of movies on Netflix it's called My LIST. We keep adding movies to the list. We actually add movies we don't want to watch, well, we don't want to watch them right now, but we may want to watch them someday, so we add them to the list. Now when we search Netflix for a movie to watch we check our My LIST. We see all the movies we didn't want to watch at the time we added them to the list and we still don't want to watch them, well, not right now anyway. I never got a chance to watch, "A Christmas Story" this past Christmas season. I enjoy that movie and try to watch it every year during the Holiday season. My List of must-read/watch books/movies for TWO THOUSAND TWENTY BOOKS On Purpose - Julie Watson-Day MOVIES A Christmas Story My go-to genres are Comedy, Documentaries, Science Fiction, Action-Adventure, and Porn. Just kidding... I don't like Science Fiction. *100 and **On Purpose can be purchased through https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1578164286&hkey=558ce5e1f64965234181... |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 3, 2020 Make a list of 20 random things (nouns). Try as hard as you can to make each item on your list as unrelated to the other items as possible. If your muse moves you, you’re welcome to add whatever commentary you like. Welcome to my blog entry random list fans. Today I'm working on a 20 item random list of completely unrelated items. My muse, Andre the Blog Monkey is helping me. When it comes to random, Andre is pretty much, the Steven Hawkins of random. Andre will be running from room to room throughout the house selecting random items for the list. What could possibly go wrong with this? After spending a lengthy period of time staring at a blank screen, I've determined that you can't write a random list if you spend a lot of time thinking about it. Whew! Glad I got that figured out. Alrighty then, random list, coming right up. Got your vodka all filled up and ready to go Andre? Okay. Go!  GUITAR  Well, it's sitting right there! How random is that? drunk monkey. EXERCISE BIKE  Now you're just being a smart ass. DEODORANT  Nothing from the bedroom, please. SHAVING CREAM  Nothing from the bathroom either! TEDDY BEAR  Nothing from the bedroom, I said. HANDCUFFS  Alright! That's the way you wanna be, is it? BONG  I think I'll do the next few, thankyou very much. MONKEY CAGE ZOO Hey, thery're supossed to be unrelated, genius. BANK CARROT TREE SQUIRREL  This is harder than I thought. You do a few more monkey boy. GUITAR  You already said that one, pick something else. ELECTRIC GUITAR Okay, but you still have to pick something else because we're doubled up on GUITAR now. BONER PILLS Those aren't boner pills, they're for my thyroid condition. BANANA  Good one! Just a few more to go. Finish it off, this wasn't supossed to take all day. DRONE FRYING PAN PHOTO ALBUM LAMP SHOE BATTERY STICK GLUE SCREWDRIVER PRINTER  Enough Already!!! Now we have too many. But at least we're done. Thanks for helping out, Andre, I don't know what I'd do without you.  GUITAR |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 2, 2020 2030 sounds so futuristic, but it’s only ten years away! What do you think the world will be like ten years from now? What inventions do you think we will have by then? What are some changes you think will happen in the world in the next ten years? Hmmm, Ten years from now... What will the world be like? The BIG question on MY mind is... What will I be like ten years from now? I will be sixty-nine years old in 2030. I feel around 89 years old now, so I can only imagine how I'll feel in another ten years. (Assuming I live that long, and I probably will because Leslie is constantly nagging me about taking better care of myself. You should eat this or you shouldn't eat that, you should get out for a walk, wanna try some tofurkey dogs? you should make an appointment for this, you should make an appointment for that, and so on. So yeah, unless you can die from being nagged to death I'll probably live to be a hunrit an fiddy.) So it's like this... We live out in the woods near a lake, Leslie loves all the different birds that visit our yard. On occasion, a bird will fly into our large living room window. It hardly ever ends well for the bird, and Leslie gets very upset, she takes full responsibility for the birds' injury or loss of life. It's become my responsibility to dispose of the bodies. I have to do this in a very respectful manner, taking care to wear a mourning like expression on my face at all times. Leslie can't bring herself to attend the *burial. *I just toss the little bird bodies in the tall grass, nature takes care of the rest. One time I was walking a deceased window wacker to its final resting place when the little fella sprung back to life right in my hand. I was like Jesus! It was only unconscious, not dead. But here's the thing... The bird was having some concussion protocol management issues, the little guy couldn't quite get his bearings straight and was flapping circles around in the tall grass. As I was deciding on a plan of action a red fox trotted right past me into the tall grass, grabbed the bird in its jaws and continued on its way. After this I was giving Leslie the funeral report, usually, it's the same old thing..." dearly beloved blah blah this bird, blah, blah spirit flies on, etc." But this time there was a resurrection to tell of and Leslie's reaction to the bird's rebirth completely caught me by surprise. She was so relieved, elated, there was this sheer look of joy on her face and in eyes, she was radiant. There was no way I could tell her about the fox. I told her how the little bird jumped right out of my hand, good as new. Then what, she asks. Well... then the bird flapped around a little bit, just to get it's bearings back, then it, umm flew away, as if it never happened. Leslie gets a happy ending, all good. So now... I can sometimes discard of a body (bird body, just to be clear) and not tell Leslie. Instead, I say, "The bird was gone when I went out there, it must have awoken and flown off." It makes her happy to hear these reports. Even when we're in the car and pass some roadkill or even some small animal or something on the side of the road, or maybe hit something, or maybe think we saw something and we think we might have hit it but not really sure, but we're not going back to check. Not this time, anyway. This stuff too bothers Leslie, and she looks away and grimaces, which gives me the opportunity to say, "Oh! It's okay. I saw the little critter run back into the bush when I checked the rearview mirror. Yep there, I can still see it. It's reuniting with its family. They're all hugging on the side of the road." This makes Leslie happy. Why am I telling you all this? Because, here's what I think the year 2030 will be like. Mother Earth will be well into repair mode due to the combined efforts of the global population, who will work together to reverse the effects of climate change. There will be plenty of food for every person in every part of the planet. There will be no war, and all people will live in harmony. People will all be free to be the person they want to be, without fear. Humankind will have perfected the use of technology and would have applied that knowledge to solve every problem known to exist. Life expectancy rates would be off the charts, people will live very long and very happy healthy lives. And we will have windows installed in every home, which birds won't be able to come in contact with. There will be birds, amen. Bring on 2020, 2030, 3030 I'm ready, life is good! |
I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO MUSE APPROVED ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Dear Blog The first day of the year 2020 is only hours away. Still no flying cars. I'm excited about making the 30 Day Blogging Challenge a part of my self indulging expression of lunacy for the month of January. So excited, in fact, that I'm cheating by starting early. I first attempted the 30DBC in January of 2012. I was fairly new to the site, my writing was horrible and still is, but I had so much fun and made lasting friendships. The 30DBC, that year, was hijacked mid-month by *MOLLY MUGGINGSWORTH. Details escape my memory, and the memories I retain, make me wonder if things really got that crazy or if I'm over embellishing the facts. She was a right fricken nut job, I'll say that. I did receive third place and a lifetime ban from posting in the 30DBC forum. Nearly two years have passed since I've last competed in the challenge, a lot has changed since then and there are several new changes on the 2020 horizon to write about. So in the words of one of my favorite sports heroes... "Pull those belts tight one more time, we're ready to go racing, boys! This is the 30 Day Blog Challenge." 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT for January 1, 2020 Welcome to 2020! As we start a new decade, take the time in your entry today to look back on the previous decade (2010-2019). Write about some of the major milestones from the past ten years. When you look back on your life over the past decade, what events stand out as most noteworthy and significant? In my preamble, I mentioned an important milestone in my writing journey, joining writing.com and discovering the 30DBC on the site. The arrival of my muse, Andre the Blog Monkey, shortly after I began blogging is another important writing milestone. Andre does a lot of my writing and takes a lot of the blame for the bad ideas, which is fair because Andre gets a lot of the credit for the good ideas. Other imagined entities residing inside my brain are my emotions, which also help in the writing process. For this blog entry Memory is editor in chief. Memory is slow and constantly obsessing over fact, which drives imagination crazy because imagination doesn't care about facts and doesn't spend a lot of time thinking. Yes, I do realize imagination and memory are not emotions, and I have also gone off track a little bit. Other milestones over the last decade might be relocations that took place. We moved from Manitoba to Saskatchewan, and lived in Regina for three years, before moving back to Manitoba. Another move is planned for the year. In 2015 I picked up the guitar one day, determined to learn how to play it, and now I'm told that "I'm pretty good" "Pretty good" is as good as it gets. Sadly, some milestones are people we had to say goodbye to. Memory does a good job of continually, honoring those people. In 2017 we (Leslie and I) joined a Lions Internation Club, The Lac du Bonnet Lions. We met and became friends with a great group of people and help with several service projects which benefits people in our area and around the world. The Lions don't know about Andre the Blog Monkey yet, but a few members have raised their eyebrows in my direction and wondered out loud, "where do you get your idea?" Memory is tired now, and imagination wants to take over. I'm going to stamp this blog entry done, and boldly go into the future which is...The year 2020. Happy New Year! *MOLLY MUGGINGSWORTH is not her real name. I forgot what it was, which is okay because we're not allowed to mention it ever again. She went on these rants of pure jibberish all in CAPS. (Like Donald Trump's tweets) |
FOR THE OCTOBER 2018 UNOFFICIAL CHALLENGE IN THE ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** October 30, 2018, 30DBC Prompt Start your entry with this sentence: You might not believe in ghost stories, but… A good Day for re-print before this scary piece goes into syndication or gets made into a mini-series on Netflix. The Thing in the Basement Part One We all went there. We all played there. We were kids; we all grew up there. Me, my five siblings, my six cousins. All of us. Maybe not at the same time, yet there were many occasions when we were all together there. It was the best place in the world to be. None of us lived there, but it was our home. We were always welcome, always loved, and the food was pretty good too. I'm talking about my grandparents' home. Everyone in the family has fond memories of their experiences in that house. My mother, two aunts, and uncle were raised in that house. I think that among my siblings and cousins I spent the most time there. Countless weekends at Grandma and Grandpa's house. It was the best place in the world for a kid to be...for me anyway. Somewhere, somehow, without notice, something somehow changed. I may have been the only person to notice. I never told anyone. I often wonder these days, what it was? My grandparents sold their home in the late seventies and moved into an apartment block. At that point, it became someone else's home, someone else's problem. The old house was back up for sale again recently. I went to have a look at it. Whatever it was I thought was there. I think it's still there. The Thing in the Basement Part Two The house was always warm, very cozy, tastefully decorated and well maintained. There were three bedrooms upstairs, a living room, dining room and kitchen on the main floor. There was also a fully finished basement. The basement had three rooms. At the very back of the basement, opposite the stairs that accessed the basement, was a cold room. The cold room was a fully stocked pantry. It held Grandma's preserves along with a supply of canned goods that would impress the most obsessive survivalist. Burlap sacks with produce from Grandpa's garden were also stored in the cold room. A wall, running the length of the basement, with a large gap in the center separated the other two rooms. The two rooms were both very large. The first large room, housed the furnace, laundry area, and a workbench loaded with tools. This room was of no interest to me, it was simply a room that you had to pass through to get to the second large room. The second large room was the playroom. The main feature to this room was an antique slate pool table that Grandpa received as payment for renovating a local pool hall back in the nineteen-fifties. One of my favorite things was a 300-pound roll of paper that Grandpa acquired somehow. I would always take a large sheet of paper then draw and color for hours on end. One other thing I have to mention is the inverted steel drum. That was Grandpa's barbering chair. Every grandchild has a photograph taken of them during their turn on the drum. The photos all were the same, Grandpa posing holding his clippers while a crying child sat atop the drum. Grandpa was not a licensed barber. I can't answer for everyone else who was crying, but I can say, "I wasn't crying about having my hair cut. I cried because I knew, come Monday, I would be teased at school for having a crooked ass haircut with a couple oops hold still marks" ... Let's get on with the story, shall we... We sure had some fun times downstairs. Large groups of people all playing pool or board games, or just hanging out was fun enough for me. As we aged though, the groups got smaller, until it was just my little bro. and me. I'm not sure why, but I seemed to be the only one out of 12 grandchildren that continued to spend weekends at the Grandparent's house. Maybe because I made a few friends in the area, and enjoyed my weekend stays there, or maybe my parents liked getting rid of me for the weekends. A bit of both. ...Okay! Okay, moving on... So there I was, all alone in the basement, practicing up on my pool game. By the way... My first visit to a pool hall in the neighborhood, when I was in my first year of Junior high, was an interesting and funny experience. I went with a group of my new school buddies. I was nervous about even being in the pool hall, there was a pretty rough bunch of characters in there. I didn't pay much attention to my friends who took their turns at attempting to pocket some shots. "It's your shot Joel," someone alerted me. So I proceeded to walk around the table, sinking ball - after - ball. Bank shots, soft finesse shots, and long blasts that slam the ball into the back of pocket with an authoritative loud bang. People took notice, including the owner of the pool hall. "Holy crap Joel, where did you learn to shoot pool like that?" I had no idea I was any good at it. I almost always lost to my older siblings and uncle. On subsequent visits to the pool hall the owner and I became friends, he was always happy to see me and even would match me up to play a game against some of his friends. "Hey George play a game with this kid, I'll put five bucks on the kid or give you a free table for the night if you win." I was pretty good at reading a racing form too and handicapping the horses at the racetrack. Pretty good for a twelve-year-old in any case. Again I have gotten off track...sorry. So there I was all alone in my Grandparent's basement practicing up on my pool game when I suddenly felt cold as if an icy cool breeze went right through my body. I froze up for a second or two. Then, for no reason at all became paralyzed with fear. I couldn't move, I wanted to call out to my Grandparents who were upstairs, but I couldn't make a sound. I had the feeling someone or something was watching me, whatever it was, wanted me to leave. I took a couple steps forward and then broke into a flat out run. I raced up the stairs and into the living room. "Are you done playing pool," Grandma asked. "Yeah, I'm going to stay up here, draw some pictures, and watch hockey." I never told anyone about this. I thought it was just me and my overactive imagination. On my very next visit, it happened again though, and every visit afterward it also happened. It got so that I couldn't be in the basement alone. I recall one time I was playing pool with my younger brother. I felt the cold icy breeze. I asked lil bro, "do you find it cold down here?" "No, he answered, but then abruptly announced that he was going back upstairs, and with that, he left me down there alone. I followed him upstairs only moments later, but unusually full of fear. I stopped going into the basement for a period of time. Then one night when I was there visiting for the weekend I guess I was bored, perhaps I was being high maintenance, so Grandma suggested I go play pool. I refused. Grandma insisted, so I went in that direction, but I didn't go downstairs. I sat on the top step, out of sight. I sat there for a good long while, and I felt an unfriendly entity like it was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. I was sure there was something down there. Something, but what? I didn't know, and I wasn't about to find out. On another visit I mustered all my courage and decided to investigate the first room, that is the room I felt there was this presence in. Everything was fine. I began to take a few practice shots on the pool table. Then it happened again. I ran upstairs again. The Thing in the Basement Part Three I know what you're thinking. Not much of a ghost story. Right? Yeah, you're right, it's not, but the story isn't completed yet, and there is a bit more to add. The episodes of fear in the basement went on for nearly two years as I recall. I thought about it a lot at the time. I kept telling myself it was just me and my imagination scaring myself. That did not sit well with me, however, because why then did I only get that feeling in that location, and nowhere else. I thought about the feeling I got where I was being watched by someone or something. The night I sat at the top of the stairs I swear there was someone or something just waiting at the foot of the stairs, watching me, looking at me. I still get chills when I think of it. As I grew up, I learned a lot about myself. I discovered that I did\do have some abilities or an awareness of let's just call it matters of an occult type nature. Even still I never have had that strong of a sense of something, except for whatever it was in the basement at the grandparent's house. I knew at the time, and I recall to this day that whatever it was down there, even if it was just my imagination, then my imagination was standing between the washing machine and the dryer on the inside west wall of my grandparents' basement. I swear this to be true. I would happily just forget the whole thing, but as I said, the story doesn't end there. I think this next part of the story is related to the first part. Connecting these two parts is something that has been on my mind (off and on) for the past 40 years. I'm curious how many of my friends and family read my blog. My Uncle is my facebook friend. We are going to see if we can get him to notice this story. I'd be curious what he thinks. Does he remember? Okay ...the rest of the story. During one of my weekend stays at my grandparents' house, I was awoken by a commotion coming from the main floor. It was my Uncle, who still lived in the house, I believe he was about 19 yrs old at the time. He was hollering for his dad (Grandpa) to come see something. Something about a bird. I had to go see what was going on. I caught up with what was now a group of people gathered at the side of the house. My Grandparents, my Uncle, a couple of neighbors, a couple of my friends and a couple of my Uncle's friends. They were all trying to figure out how a bird (a sparrow) had gotten entrapped between the outer and inner basement window of my grandparents' house. I had a look. There was a live bird, uninjured, perfectly healthy, even flapping around a bit, and it was trapped between the two window frames. The bird had no way out, which begs the question... How did it get in there? It was very odd. It was disturbing for me because this was the morning after I had sat on the basement step too afraid to go down those stairs. My Grandfather pretty much built that house, and he could not figure out how that bird got in there. Neither could anyone else. There was a dryer vent near the window. maybe the bird got in through there someone suggested. Grandpa checked it out completely, it was the only logical explanation. There was no way. If the bird somehow got in that vent, it would have ended up in the dryer, not between the windows. The windows were sealed tight. No way in and no way out. Grandpa was able to release the bird eventually by carefully removing the inner window frame, just enough so he could unlatch the outer window. Once the outer window was unlatched, my Uncle pried it open enough that the bird was able to free itself and it flew away. Weird right? I'm not quite done telling the story. A few weeks later, I spent another weekend at my Grandparents. I was awoken on Saturday morning by a commotion coming from the main floor. It was my Uncle He was hollering for his dad (Grandpa) to come see something. Something about a bird. I had to go see what was going on. I caught up with what was now a group of people gathered at the side of the house. It happened again. Same window maybe even the same bird, who knows. A group of us debated how the bird got in there, as grandpa went about the task of releasing the bird for a second time. I remember standing there in a bit of a daze, I was thinking about how last night I could have sworn that whatever it was I thought was in the basement was right under that very window. My Uncle turned to me and said to me, "This happened last time you were here for the weekend, I think you did it." I was dumbfounded; I had no response to his statement. Maybe he's right I thought. What does this have to do with me? Something? Nothing? I still don't know. That was the last weekend I stayed in that house a couple months later my Uncle got married and moved out, and shortly after that the house was sold. I went and had a good look at that house just a few years back. The current owner was selling the house himself. He already had a solid offer on the house but agreed to let us have a look anyhow. I told him how the house was owned by my grandparents. He had completely renovated the house, modernized it. We toured the upstairs and then the main floor. The fellow pointed out his renovations and I described what it looked like before he made the change. I was able to tell him exactly what the house used to look like and he was amazed at how accurate I was. I asked if the pool table was still in the basement. He said not any longer, and he talked about how hard it was to get that thing out of the basement. I asked him if they still had the cold room down there and he said yes. He mentioned that, homes don't often have a cold room these days, and that his wife loved having the extra storage space because they buy in bulk. Another nice thing about the cold room he continued is, "It's a great place to hide Christmas presents from the kids, we don't even have to wrap the gifts because our kids are afraid to go down there. The End
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Made in Canada  |
FOR THE OCTOBER 2018 UNOFFICIAL CHALLENGE IN THE ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** October 29, 2018, 30DBC Prompt Start your entry with this sentence:As I looked at the Jack-o-Lantern, it seemed to be looking back at me. Then… As I looked at the Jack-o-Lantern, it seemed to be looking back at me. Then… I guided the turning auger of the snow-blower right into its stupid Jack-o-Lantern face. I swear I heard a scream as a mixture of snow and pumpkin brains shot out of the snow blower's discharge chute and splattered against the side of the garage, then oozed slowly down the wall, making an orangey, snowy sludge pile. Who just leaves a Jack-o-Lantern out on the driveway three weeks past Halloween? That Jack-o-Lantern was probably happy to be put out of its misery, already frozen to death, it would have been buried in three feet of snow for the next five months, I was saving it really. Besides... that couldn't have been a scream. It must have been a belt coming loose; I'll have to check those snow-blower belts tomorrow. Why am I even thinking about this right now? I should be focused on relaxing and getting some sleep after a long day of snow clearing. Yep, just gonna let my mind go blank and sleep. What a great day to be at the beach, not a cloud in the sky. The sun is bright and the temperature is just right. If you feel a little too hot the water offers cooling comfort. My wife and the twins were splashing around in the surf, while I soaked up some rays laying on a beach blanket. I closed my eyes and let the sounds and sensations take me to Beach Town. I was awoken by the dripping of water on my face, the twins were standing over me, wearing dripping wet bathing suits. Farrah and Bea, eight-year-old twins, double trouble, they were a sight. My wife was standing on my other side, playfully kicking me in the ribs, "the girls want to bury you in the sand, they've already got a hole started," she says. I'll go along with the program, so I roll over into the shallow pit the girls had dug out. I was surprised at how deep it was, but it was comfortable and there was a comforting and cooling feel to it as the girls began to cover me in sand. They covered me in a pretty high pile of sand. My entire body was under what seemed like ten tons of sand. The girls worked steadily and quietly and the sand pile slowly grew, as I again nodding off into a deep sleep. I opened my eyes with a start. I first became aware that my body was completely immobile. Except for my exposed head, I was completely buried in the sand. The next thing I noticed is that I was completely alone. The beach was deserted. My wife, the girls, everyone... gone! I tried calling out to see if anyone was within hearing distance, but my throat was so dry, I could hardly get a sound out. Now what? ... Now what? ... Now what? Then I heard a sound in the distance, maybe a quad or a motorbike, something with an engine, it's getting louder, it's getting closer. Then I saw it, I couldn't quite make out what it was yet, but it was coming towards me. I felt like my rescue from this sandy grave was close at hand. I watched intently as it slowly came closer to me, but I must have dozed off again because the next thing I know is... I'm looking into the turning blades of a snow-blower and they're coming ever closer to my head which is protruding out of the ground like a pimple about to pop. "Stop" I shriek, but what little sound I can produce is drowned out by the roar of the snow-blower engine. The blades are turning inches from my face when I look up I see the operator of the snow-blower. My biggest fear... The Jack-o-Lantern Man. Fade to black I awoke to the sound of nagging. Shovel a little snow and you think you can sleep all day? Come on, get up! The twins and I want to go shopping and those dishes aren't going to do themselves. Are you listening to me? I DON'T LIKE THIS BLOG ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** IS SPONSORED BY ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Made in Canada |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
your comment. I've done some time curled up. The thumb-sucking never gets old, but the games get boring, and once you've seen all the videos the real world becomes a welcome lifestyle change.
or NO 
"