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Haunted Roads Across America by Thom Futrell
Lore’s Corner: Sprites by LM David
The She-wolf of Lake Wildwood: Part 2 by Ronald Edward Griffin
Vampire Poetry by The Vampire Queen1
Detective Goodson: Part 3 by Brien O’Raighne
HAUNTED ROADS ACROSS AMERICA
A wise man once said: “There is not a step in the world where someone at some point hasn’t died.” That’s a lot of deaths since this big blue marble was formed.
Hauntings have been reported in fields, graveyards, houses, businesses, pretty much everywhere. The one place that always gets my attention is the open road. Imagine driving down the road some lonely night and seeing someone, or something waving and smiling at you. Or calling you by name. Sit back wary traveler as I share with you some of the stories I have collected over the years about the dark side of the streets.
There is a stretch of road out west that bares the nickname “The Devil’s Highway.” Strange lights in the sky, static, or “White noise” coming over the radio, sometimes with a message from beyond, and in some cases, unwanted passengers.
A trucker’s route took him down the Devil’s Highway, which spooked him to no end. One night while driving his headlights began to flicker, the interior lights took on a ghostly blue glow and the temperature inside the rig dropped to nearly artic. He noticed something in the corner of his eye and as he turned his head and saw a man, dressed in a ragged trench coat and cowboy hat sitting in the passenger seat. The man slowly turned to face the trucker with cold, blood shot eyes. His hair was straggly and he had a matted beard. His mouth opened, exposing a row of rotted teeth. The man spoke, but there was no volume to his voice. Not even a whisper. The ghostly passenger turned his attention back to the road ahead and dissolved into the desert night.
On the east coast, there is a Bed and Breakfast located next to a very sharp curve. One night a newlywed couple decided to leave the b and b and go for a night drive. A few minutes later the groom ran back frantically calling for help. They missed the curve and wrecked the car. Emergency services were called and some of the staff ran down the road with the groom in hopes of helping the injured bride. When the staff found the car, both the bride and groom were inside, both quite dead. For several nights after the event, the groom could be heard, running down the street screaming for help.
And then there’s the hitch hiker in the mid-west, who can be found on rainy days, hoping for a ride. The driver will pick her up, and as they head into town, she vanishes out of the car; only to be seen again in the rearview mirror, standing in the same spot, thumb out for a ride.
Be warned, wary travelers, as to whom you pick up in the dead of night. Because the dead in the night might be waiting for you.
Thom Futrell is a horror writer living in Jackson Michigan. He has been in more than sixty publications and has four films under his belt. He writes under the name T.G. Reaper.
Lore’s Corner: Sprites
What is a Sprite? Or a Fairy? Or Pixie?
I once wrote a story that had a Wood Sprite. At the time, I had no idea what the difference between Sprites, Pixies, and Faeries was. Now, I know. It seems Sprite is a general term whereas Pixie and Fairy are specific.
Sprite is used in reference to elf-like creatures, which includes fairies, dwarves, and the likes of it. Sprite can also denote various spiritual beings, including ghosts. The term is mostly used with regard to elves and fairies in European folklore. In modern English, it is rarely used in reference to spirits or other mythical creatures. The word "sprite" comes from the Latin "spiritus" (spirit). Variations on the term include "spright" (the origin of the adjective "sprightly", meaning "spirited" or "lively") and the Celtic "spriggan".
There are Water Sprites (also called water fairy or water faery) which is a general term for an elemental spirit associated with water. They are said to be able to breathe water or air, and sometimes, even fly. They are mostly harmless unless threatened.
Ancient Greeks knew water nymphs in several types such as naiads (or nyads), who guarded the fresh water bodies for the gods. These fairies are joyful, spirited and cannot be insulted or emotionally hurt, while Slavic mythology knows them as vilas. In elemental classifications, water sprites should not be confused with other water creatures considered to be "corporeal beings" such as selkies and mermaids.
Fairies are generally described as human in appearance, though varied in size and with magical powers. Their origins are less clear in the folklore, being variously the dead, or some form of angels, or a species independent of humans or angels. Folklorists suggest the actual origin lies in a conquered race that live in hiding, or in religious beliefs that lost currency with the advent of Christianity.
Much of the folklore about fairies revolves around protection from their malice, by such means as cold iron or charms of rowan and herbs. Or even avoiding offending them by shunning locations known to be theirs. In particular, folklore details how to prevent fairies from stealing babies and substituting changelings.
Pixies, or Piskies as they are known in Cornwall, are mythical creatures of English folklore and believe to exist in the areas around Devon and Cornwall. This suggests they are part of Celtic origin for the belief and name. In regional dialect, these mischievous little folk are of times referred to as piskies/piskeys or the little people. Pixies are often depicted as wingless, having pointed ears, and more often than not wearing a green outfit and wear pointed hats. Sometimes their ears were described as being pointed upwards at the temple ends.
Pixies are said to enjoy playing tricks on people. For example, they steal belongings or throw things at people. At night, Pixies steal horses and bring them back before dawn, leaving only tangled manes as evidence of the prank. Some pixies are said to exude pixie dust, which is left in their footprints or floating behind them as they fly.
Reference material: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sprite
LM David has been writing stories since Jr. High School after taking a Creative Writing class. Initially drawn to the genre of Science Fiction, a fascination with Paranormal/Urban Fantasy/Romance drew her back into the dark erotic world of vampires. The more she read about the subject of the ‘undead’, the deeper dark erotic world of folklore and legends of the vampire became. You can reach her at:
The She-wolf of Lake Wildwood
Kurt wakes up the next morning as the light shines through the corner of the blinds. His wife Diane has already left for work and he only has a few more hours until the boys usually wake up.
“At least I’ll have a little bit of peace for a while.”
He gets out of bed and walks into the bathroom to relieve himself. He presses his hand against the wall as the yellow fluid flows he lets out a sigh of relief and closes his eyes. His stomach rumbles as he flushes the toilet. Once in the bedroom again he makes the bed while trying to decide on breakfast.
“I guess I’ll just make the usual Saturday morning pancake breakfast for the boys. I better go get the newspaper first though.”
Before leaving the bedroom he puts on his house coat tying it around his waist. Then he walks out of the house to the end of his driveway. When he bends over to pick up the newspaper he hears a door close next door. When he looks up he sees the same girl from last night, step down from the porch. He cannot help but stare as yoga pants and a tank top cling to her body as she stretches. Her eyes catch his and she gives him a smile along with a wave.
“Good morning.” She calls out.
She jogs over to him in the driveway extending her hand in greeting which he eagerly accepts.
“Hi my name is Tabetha.”
“Nice to meet you I’m Kurt. I hear from my wife that you’re all college students living in that house.”
“Yes sir we start on Monday. I have to start looking for a job though to pull my weight. The guys have online jobs and work from the house but I’m not good with computers at all.”
Kurt’s eyes start to wander until she clears her throat. His face turns red and he turns his eyes to the ground.
“Well how good are you at making pizza?” he asks.
“Pretty good actually, back in my hometown in Pennsylvania my first job was at a local pizzeria. The owners treated me like their own daughter and I miss that.” She says.
“Well why don’t you come to the Pizza Hut in town and fill out an application. I’m the hiring manager there so I’ll be able to help you out.’ He says.
“Really? That would be so wonderful! I really appreciate that.” She says with a smile before hugging him.
At that moment his wife pulls into the drive way. Kurt sees her and steps away from Tabetha slowly. Diane steps out of the car giving Kurt a disapproving look as she crosses her arms. He can feel his face grow hot from embarrassment.
“I’ll see you Monday then and thank you so much again.” Tabetha says to Kurt with a smile. “Good morning ma’am.” She says to Diane.
She turns and starts jogging down the road leaving Kurt and Diane alone in the driveway. Kurt keeps his eyes glued to the concrete driveway avoiding watching the girl in tight clothing jog awhile and to avoid the intense glare that he feels coming from his wife.
“Hi honey, you’re home early.”
“They switched my schedule again and forgot to let me know. So you can’t stand college kids? Couldn’t stand them when you were one? So what were you doing all over that one?”
“It’s not what it looks like honey. She needs a job so I offered for her to come fill out an application. She just gave me a hug that’s all.”
“All I have to say is that I’d better not catch you with her hands all over you again. I’m working tonight so you will be on your own with the boys.”
“Honey the big fight is on tonight!”
“I’m sorry but what do you want me to do? I’ve got to work.”
Diane leaves Kurt standing there in the driveway and walks into the house.
“Great now I am in the dog house.”
He walks slowly up the driveway knowing that he’s getting the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. Once he is in the house he slowly closes the door behind him.
Later that evening.
Tabetha is sitting in a car with a date she had for the evening right outside of her house. He tries to feel her breasts as he kisses on her neck but she pushes him away.
“Cut it out I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Maybe you are and you just don’t know it yet.”
She slaps him in the face and gets out of the car.
Diane pulls into the driveway and watches Tabetha yelling at the boy in the car.
“You can forget my number Bobby I never want to see you again.” she says and slams the door.
Diane gets out of the car and enters her quiet house. She notices Kurt laying on the living room sofa asleep before walking into the kitchen for a drink. On the fridge she notices a note from Kurt and reads it.
I’m sorry about this morning Diane. Dinner is in the microwave and the boys are staying over at a friend’s house. I love you.”
She smiles and peeks back into the living room. She walks over to him and kisses him on the forehead.
“I love you too.” She whispers.
To be continued…
Ronald Edward Griffin is a native of Macon, GA where he was born and raised. He is an accomplished Author in his own right and is always working hard on something. He has two children whom he hopes to pass his writing bug on to them.
Night falls across the land
And shadows make their return
They are out there lurking
Waiting for their next prey
Beautiful pale skin shown only by the moonlight
Their teeth and nails elongate
They wait for you or me to pass by
And then they sink their teeth in
Absorbing the blood
Letting it dance around in their mouth
They are once again rejuvenated.
Trying to blend into the evenings' events
You will never be from our era
With your ancient mannerisms and speech
Many find you odd and freaks
Where I find comfort in you
I long for your embrace
Your kiss of death
And eternity of peace for me.
When you make me yours'
When you sink your teeth in my neck
I will let out a small erotic sigh
For this is what I've been waiting for my entire life
The killing will come naturally
But the strains from this world will be gone
And my life will begin.
The Vampire Queen1 aka Jodie Pierce has been writing since Jr. High School but was unsatisfied with her teenage romance stories. One day, a friend handed her an Anne Rice book and she found her inspiration. She’s been writing about vampires ever since.
Detective Goodson Pt 3
A flash of light comes from the amulet on the table. It shakes and hits the ground. The stone cracks. A red smoke is released. The smoke begins to form into a person. The person stretches their muscles and rolls their head.
"Ah, after a thousand years, I am finally free of that prison."
The mysterious person picks up the amulet. Looking at it. He uses the strength in his hand to crush it. He, then, looks around him. The man is wearing a long robe. His hair is pulled back into a top knot.
He sees the objects on the table. There is something on the table very familiar to him. He picks up the rod. The rod is a twisted tree root smoothed and polished. The man rolls his arm with it in his hand.
"My rod. How did it get mixed with this stuff?" He says. He looks at the painting. The people in the family, Randall Goodson's family, are oddly familiar to him. "They look familiar to me. David, Sarai, Naheru, Ramses. Hmm. Could this be my descendants?"
He hears the door open. Rand and Elise reenter the suite. Rand is scratching his head. The mysterious man disappears. They return over to the table.
Elise looks at the items on the table. All of them have already be catalogued by a number. She is still trying to identify them.
"Something's not right," She says.
"What do you mean?" Rand says. The hairs on the back of his neck are standing.
"I feel magic in the air, Rand." Elise says as she crouches. "Dark magic in particular."
Rand looks to the ground where he sees the amulet. He picks it up. It has been twisted. There are imprints of fingers on the side of the amulet with shards of the stone upon the ground. He turns to Elise. "What is going on here?"
"Can I see that?" Elise is handed the amulet. She inspects it. "Weird. We did not leave this amulet in this state. What is going on? What type of dark wizard could it have held?"
"That's a very good question."
The dark sorcerer is invisible to Elise and Rand. He watches them. He looks at Rand. He mouths the name Ramses. Could that be my grandson? Or it that the descendant of him? He is the spitting image of Ramses. Oh, I miss my family so much.
Elise is still on guard. She sets the amulet back down onto the table. Then, she notices another item is missing. The diving rod. Well, that is what she is calling it. She knows it holds power.
She pulls out her own wand from an inner pocket on her lab coat. Elise waves the wand and chants. "Ostende omnes qui uidentur in hoc locus!"
A mystical energy, white in color, begins to swirl around the room. The ancient sorcerer begins to appear before them.
Rand spots him. "There!"
Elise points her wand at the wizard. She looks at a man with long white hair. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"In that amulet over there." The elder sorcerer points. "It has been my prison for the last thousand years, my dear."
"How do I know you are not lying to me and just want to kill me?" Elise asks.
"Because if I wanted you dead, I would have ambushed you the moment you entered the room."
Rand turns his head toward Elise. "He makes a good point."
"I know. But who is he and why does he have the divining rod."
"Divining Rod?" He says. The wizard, then, chuckles. "This, my dear, is no divining rod. It is a rod of massive druidic powers from Connacht in Ireland."
"But who are you?" Rand questions.
"My name is Maenyrch ap Bleddyn. One of my sons was well known in Welsh history, Rhys Goch. The other led a humble life, Dafydd. You may know that name as David." The wizard states. "I was born a long time ago. I had plenty of time to think about changes I would take to not ever be imprisoned again."
Rand steps back in shock. He cannot believe what he was just told.
"That's not possible." Rand exclaims.
"Why do you say that, young man?"
Rand raises a brow. "I'm older than you think, sir. But to answer your question, that means you are my ancestor by nearly 600 years."
"Hmm. Does it now?" Maenrych says.
"That it does." Elise tells him.
Maenrych turns to Rand. "So how come you are not dead yourself, son?"
"The name is Rand. Short for Randall. I have used many a surname over the years. But I was born Randall ap Gonwys." Rand tells Maenrych. "The reason I am still youthful in appearance is that I am a vampire."
"Vampire? Vampire is not a term that I can recall. I have heard of the clan Wynn. People were afraid to go near that clan. Their skin was pale and they had the thing for drinking their enemy’s blood." Maenrych says. "Disgusting habit to say the least."
"I agree with you there," Elise chimes in. Rand gulps.
"It is a necessary evil, though." Rand states. "For me, I use the perps that I catch to siphon some of their blood for my sanity. I tend to stay away from junkies. Their blood is tainted and tastes terrible."
"That just sounds horrible to begin with." Maenrych tells him.
"Not fun. I will tell you that." Rand tells him. "But mostly, I try to get my sustenance from the local blood banks or legal vampire blood retailers. I usually mix into different drinks to make it taste a little better."
"There are Blood Retailers?" Maenrych asks. "I have never heard of such a thing."
"According to Metapol Agents that I sometimes work with, they are required to have paperwork on them at all times." Rand informs him.
"Really?" Elise says.
"Yep." Rand answers.
Elise walks over to the light at her table. She switches it off.
"Why did you do that?" Maenrych says.
"Well, we do not need to stand here to talk about this."
About the Author, Brien O’Raighne
He is a connoisseur of sci-fi and paranormal films and books. He, also, lives in Houston with his son.
You can contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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