Just wanted to give you the next copy of our ezine.
Index
CEO & President: Jodie Pierce
Vice Presicent & Cover Artist: Lindsey Jayne
Editor-in-Chief: Jessica Sawa
2015 All rights reserved, including the
right of reproduction of this ezine in part or in whole.
Articles/Columns:
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
T.G. REAPER
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.
Author Bio:
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
Author
Bio:
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:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorLMDavid
Twitter: @LMDavid54
The She-wolf of Lake Wildwood
Part 2
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…
Author Bio:
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.
Vampire Poetry:
Nightfall
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.
Peace
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.
New
Life
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.
Author Bio:
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
by
Brien O'Raighne
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 darknesswithin.boraighne@gmail.com.
**If you'd like to contribute an article or become a columnist, please contact me at darknesswithin.jpierce@gmail.com. Also, please feel free to leave a comment here letting us know what you think of the ezine! We love to hear from our readers!!!!
Keep Writing/Reading!
Jodie Pierce
