Tag Archives: story

Night After Halloween

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outhereI heard it as I walked. I saw its shadow slide into dark corners when it thought I was not watching. Every now and then I could see it move from the corner of my eye. It followed me for blocks as I walked down one dimly lit street after another.

I wanted to walk faster to get away from it, but I knew that was impossible. It was keeping a distance from me so maybe it was not sure yet. Maybe it was waiting for a moment when there were no lights and no cars.

Then it would strike. The noises it made grew louder as it grew bolder and moved closer. It was hurrying to get into position to strike. Now almost beside me. No, wait it was to my right. A few seconds earlier it was on my left. It can move very fast when the streets are dark.

I walked faster. It was no longer trying to be sane. It knew I heard it. Had it decided I was it? I could feel the hair on the back of my neck starting to stiffen. I wanted to yell out, but who would hear?

If they did hear would they bother to go to a window or door and look out? I doubt it, they would not want to be involved. They would choose to remain distant. They and theirs were safe and accounted for, what did I matter.

It was a mere feet behind me now. My heart was beating wildly, and I was beginning to pant from moving ever faster. My feet seemed to barely touch the ground, but it wasn’t fast enough. I could hear it catching its feet on the uneven surface. Maybe it wanted to raise my fear level a little higher?

Through the fog of my panic I had a thought. They don’t like the light, and they don’t want to be seen. If I could just make it to the light I would be okay. Only another one-hundred feet and I would be safe. Could I make it? It sounds like it is right next to me!

I gave up walking fast and started to run. I could hear it starting to move faster too. Its feet hitting the pavement as it hopped towards me. Only another few seconds, that is all I need to get to the light!

I reached into my jacket, pulled out my cell phone, and fumbled trying to open it. In mindless terror I pushed the camera button. It was taking forever. It was inches away from me. I could feel its closeness like hot foul breath on my neck. I threw my arm backwards and prayed I pushed the camera button to make the flash go off.

It hissed loudly sounding only inches from my ear! The flash worked! It slowed and loped off into the darkness. Temporarily blinded by the light of a neon flash on a cell phone! I made it to the light. Traffic was picking up, and I knew I could get away from it before its eyes healed from the flash of light.

As an after thought I looked to see if I got it on camera. The rational part of my mind said it was the leaves falling from the trees. The rest of my mind knew what it really as because it remembered ten thousand years worth of well founded fear.

night terror

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Suggestions and examples, not advice

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I was thinking today about all the advice I have received and not followed since I was a child. It seems there are well meaning people everywhere who are more than willing to help me run my life. Some people are very good at giving advice, but I have preferred to do what I think is right for me, rather than what someone else may think is right. I can not say my way has worked out the best or been the smoothest ride, but for me it was the best way.

I quit giving advice many years ago, or at least I think I have. Sometimes, I wonder if I am getting lost in semantics, or I really quit giving advice. When someone asks for advice, a conversation turns from being on the same level whatever level that was to a parent to child conversation. I dislike parent to child conversation because I do not think they are conductive conversations even when I may be talking with a child. I like to keep a conversation with both parties on the same level that way we are equals discussing the possibilities.

I prefer to think that I now give suggestions and examples instead of advice. Suggestions and examples are explorable, where advice is like a pressed caplet; it is an all or nothing proposition. Also if I give examples or suggestions, there leaves options to explore and modify according to a particular circumstance, rather than the other person assuming I am intimately knowledgeable of their particular circumstance.

If I simply give advice, the things that become of it are usually not good. Someone follows my advice and it made things worse. Someone followed only parts of my advice and it made things worse, or someone only heard part of what I said and trying it made things worse. The times my advice has worked have been fewer than I am comfortable with, not because the advice was bad, but because the listener was not active in the conversation.

These days in most circumstances, I want to hear all about the problem and then offer suggestions based on my life experiences. The receiver in the conversation can then ask for clarification, and back up plans can be formed if all does not go as planned. Of course I like to throw in a disclaimer of my own, mentioning that whatever I use as an example worked for me, and it may not work for someone else.

Of course the worst thing about giving advice is in a situation where advice was given and not followed. It used to make me wonder why I bothered to start with. I know now these are usually people who collect opinions, and then when the scale tips far enough in a direction that is what they do, and it had little to do with the advice given.

Suggesting allows me to know the person asking understands what I am suggesting. Usually when people want advice, they are in an area of life that they are not comfortable navigating. Offering suggestions allows me a chance to ask questions to ensure they understand the general flow of what I have said. I also offer that the person try out my suggestion on something not important, to make sure they understand completely. There is nothing worse than following someone’s advice, getting most of the way through, and realizing you have no clue what to do next. Practice makes perfect in this instance. 

I was once a help line worker in a small town many years ago. One piece of advice I was given was: When I did not know what to reply to something said on the phone to me, that agreeing with the person was usually the best practice. One night as I slept the phone rang. I answered it half asleep. A person told me they had a gun to their head and they were going to pull the trigger. As most of the calls were about boyfriends and sexual disease, I was totally unprepared for a call like this. Not knowing what to do I used the first piece of advice I remembered when dealing with a tough phone call. I agreed, and said to the caller they should pull the trigger, I said, “Go ahead”. This was not one of the finest pieces of advice ever given under the circumstances.

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Werewolves or something like them in England

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A number of years ago I was fortunate enough to find myself in a small town in England. What a sense of history! I travelled around as much as was practical, and I had many unusual experiences.
Some I have had other places here in the US, but this one has only happened in England. I was telling some friends about it, and they thought it would make a great blog post? I have my doubts, but then thought, why not? So here is a short version. Enjoy, and do not let it scare you if things like this normally do scare you, as I am still here to talk about it.

I was with two other people (1981), and we were walking across the Green (a town square, sort of) on a path that met with another path in the middle of the Green at right angles. Think of two sidewalks crossing each other like streets do. There was a woman with a child of two or three years of age to our left, walking to my right. On our right were two teenage Girls of about fifteen, or sixteen years old walking from the right, laughing and giggling as Girls do. At this moment we were all about twenty-five feet apart walking towards the intersection.

In mid-stride, the two teenage ‘Girls’ appearance changes to something almost exactly what Dean Koontz describes in Odd Thomas. Between lifting one foot up and placing it down they changed from Girls into emaciated Werewolf like creatures. I could see no teeth, or claws, but their body structure was changed into that of a large dog walking, and their red eyes were glowing. They walked, and looked like a very large dog would on its hind legs. Even their appearance is hard to detail well. They kind of blurred into brown fuzz at the edges and center of their beings. They walked two to three steps in this Werewolf form, and just as suddenly, within a step, they turned back into normal teenage Girls.

When the ‘Girl’s’ changed appearance into this other state, the child of the Woman on our left started to run towards the ‘Girls’, calling out something. The Child’s Mother with a terrified look, ran forward, and roughly grabbed her daughter by the arm and yanked. She swung her daughter about three feet into the air, and walked a wide detour around the Girls, staring at them in fright, or downright fear, or maybe both as she did. I had no doubt that the woman at least saw these two Girls change into whatever they were/are, and then change back into girls again in the space of three steps. The woman’s daughter also saw them change be her reaction, but it may be she saw something other than we did, as she ran towards them.

Of course I saw this happen, and when I looked at the person with me, they also saw something from the shocked look on their face. When I asked after the Girls passed on the path, I heard a description of exactly what I saw happen, the Girl’s changed into something that looked like Werewolves for about three steps, and then changed back into young girls.

I filed this experience away as one of those things – not knowing any different at the time. By this time in my life seeing strange things for me, was not all that strange anymore. Then this last summer (2004) when I was reading Dean Koontz – Odd Thomas, the memory of that day came back when Koontz gave described his creatures in the book.

I can only surmise either Dean Koontz has seen these beings, read of them, or it is only a coincidence they ended up in his book? If you have experienced anything like this, I would like to read about it? Please leave a reply, or send me an email. Me email address in my about page.

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Two years, two jobs, and fired from one!

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During the summer of after high school, and before college, I was working hard to have enough money to pay for my upcoming college adventure. I was smart enough to get in college, but not smart enough to get a free ride. I had been working as a bag boy for a grocery store for almost two years by this time. A big step up from previous jobs held as a kid.

The work was okay, it was sort of boring, but it paid better than most jobs I could get so I stayed with it for those two years. The manager of the grocery store though never really seemed to like me. I never knew why, perhaps my personality was a little to colorful for a grocery store worker.

As I had graduated, I decided that as I was going to school full time, and working almost full time, I could now take on a second job. It would double up my money in a few months, and then it was college, so it seemed like a good idea. I went looking for a second job. I was up front with my boss about it, and of course he was not too pleased. He told me that was fine, but my first obligation was to the job I currently had.

I found a job as a dishwasher on a local military base and it paid more than what I was making bagging groceries. It was sixteen hours, two days a week, on Saturday and Sunday mornings. I took the job, as there was no problem with the schedule I was on which was Monday through Friday, mornings and afternoons…. When I told my grocery store boss I found a job that did not interfere with my current schedule, and was only two days a week, I thought he would be okay with it.

How naive I was to think that it was not a problem. On the second week of working two jobs, I came in and checked my grocery store work schedule, only to discover that I was now working Saturday and Sunday days. I went to my boss, explained again I was saving money for college, and I could work any schedule during the week except Saturday and Sunday. Of course that was a problem for him. I mentioned again that I had already spoken to him before this second job, and thought I was clear about what I could work.

The boss turned it into an ultimatum, and told me if I was not here Saturday morning there would be problems. Me being me, I told him I would not be there Saturday morning and he should start looking for someone to work Saturday, and Sunday in my place. I needed money for college, and I thought he was being totally unfair. Of course that is exactly what he did. When I came in to work following the weekend, he gave me my paycheck and told me I was fired.

I thought that was the end of my college world, what would I do for money now as there were only a few months to make any before my school started. As luck would have it, they liked my work on the base, and once they heard my predicament they made it possible for me to work full time as a dishwasher food line helper!

After all these years, I never have understood what the problem was with my grocery store boss. It was possible that the boss knowing I was leaving at the end of summer decided to cut his losses and get a new kid hooked on money during the summer when the pressure of working and school was not there.

Or, it was possibly, he never liked me, and wanted me gone, but I never did anything bad enough to be fired. I always, and many future bosses agreed, I am a good person to have in their business, whatever business it was. At any rate, life goes on, though on days like today, I ponder what was the real reason he did what he did, being fairly sure he knew what the outcome would be.

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Christmas begging, and the kindness of a store owner

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When I was a kid, for Christmas money I sold Christmas cards. It was not any big project, and I doubt it was even a good buy for my customers. But I would manage to sell enough Christmas cards to be able to by Christmas presents for my Aunts and Uncles, Grandparents, and my Mother and Father.

There I was, a nine or ten year old boy, having his once a year experience at playing big-shot, out buying Christmas presents. I was loaded, I had almost twenty-nine dollars which was a big sum of money for a little kid. I had spent about twenty dollars of my money on the Aunts and Uncles, and Grandparents presents, which left me about nine dollars for my folks. That was two gifts, and perhaps a candy bar and a Pez for myself.

My folks wanted to go to Goldfines, which was a new super department store in our city. Because I had nine whole dollars I wanted to get something really neat for my folks, something they would really like. I was walking, going from one part of the store to another when I spotted two sets of silverware in boxes. Wow, silverware was just the thing! We did not own a real set of silverware, but rather most of a complete set, and parts of other sets. This set said it was complete and had service for eight people. Seeing there were only three of us, I thought that would be a great gift. I was all excited as I saw the price was nine dollars and twenty-three cents. I checked my pockets and I had twenty-three cents, I was in business!

I picked up one of the boxes and worked my way back to the cash registers and stood in line. I was so excited, and my parents would be so surprised and excited! I had never seen brand new silverware before, and I wondered what it was like to eat using brand new silverware? I finally made it to the cash register and placed my purchase on the counter.

It was a woman cashier, and when she finished with the woman in front of me, she took my silverware and rang it up. She looked at her cash register, and said to me, “Nine dollars and eighty-six cents.” I was shocked, I was sure the price was nine dollars and twenty-three cents, and I said so. The cashier told me I read the price wrong, and I did not include the sales tax. Tax, what was tax I asked? When she told me, I said I only had my nine dollars and twenty-three cents, and could she take that? She said no, I had to pay the tax too.

I was crushed, and I did not know what to do. I told her I didn’t have the extra money. She told me I could not buy the silverware. I didn’t want to let go of the silverware because I was sure someone else would pick it up and buy it. I took the box, and stepped away, absolutely stunned. As I stood there watching the people pay, I had an idea, a terrible and low idea, but it could work. I started asking people leaving for sixty-three cents so I could buy the silverware.

Of course no one gave me any money, I was a kid begging, and who is going to give money to a kid. I received a few mean remarks, but mostly was ignored. Someone of course was put out enough to tell a salesman what was going on. This man showed up and asked what I was doing bothering customers?

I explained my problem to him. He told me he was Mr. Goldfine and in his opinion this one time they could take my nine dollars and twenty-three cents for the silverware. I was so excited! Here was the man who owned this huge store doing business with me like I was a grown-up customer! Better yet, I could get the silverware too! I don’t remember what I got for Christmas presents that year, but I still remember what I gave out, and I remember the man that made it possible.

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Ziggy’s choice

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Ziggy and I worked together in a large hotel restaurant. He was a few years older than I was, but he was much younger than the other two people we worked with, so that made us friends by default. Ziggy was a newlywed being married less than two years. I was a newlywed also, so that gave us something in common. We also had baby girls, although his baby was a few months younger than mine. Ziggy lived for his little girl, and she was his world, even his wife took second seat to his daughter.

We worked and laughed and got the job done the best we could each day. Some days were fun and some days were work, but between all of us we did our best, and our customers were happy. One of the best parts of the job for me was the lunch time menu. There was always a lunch special. When I was not the grill cook for the day, I could decide and make whatever the special was for that day. We would try to be be creative, and make enough to feed between thirty and forty people which seemed to be the most lunch specials we would sell in a day.

Ziggy started having headaches that would not go away. Then he started losing his balance at times. It became serious, so he went to the doctor to see what was wrong, and how it could be made better. A week went by while Ziggy waited for his tests to come back. I was starting to notice that he was not doing so well. He would forget what he was doing or have to sit down because he was too dizzy to stand.

The doctors said Ziggy had a brain tumor. It was deep inside his brain and it was growing fast. The doctors said if they operated, Ziggy had less than a five percent chance of waking up. There was radiation, although it would not cure Ziggy. At best it would slow down the growth of the tumor and hopefully extend his life a few more months.

To Ziggy, extending his life a few months meant a few more months with his new wife and daughter. He never gave it a second thought, but started the treatment as soon as he could. The first week or so Ziggy was sick, but he managed to come to work. He was not as fast on his feet as he had been. We all helped by working harder, and we finished the work as a group. By the third week Ziggy was not able to work at all.

Ziggy made it about seven months before the cancer took him. In his last lucid days, he said that if he could do it over, he [Ziggy] would have skipped the radiation, and settled for a few good months with his wife and daughter, instead of several months of being too ill to enjoy his wife and baby girl. I thought it was very sad as they lay Ziggy to rest, his last thoughts were he was cheated out of some quality time with his family.

As time marched on, other family members, and friends died of this or that. It is always a sad state watching someone die slowly of something terminal. The only advantage of a slow death, is there is plenty of time to speak with everyone you wish to speak with. You have the privilege of letting them know whatever you may wish to tell them. There is also time to get yourself in order. Taking care of your affairs as much as you can and giving those things you can to friends and family. I learned a lot from Ziggy’s illness and death, as Ziggy died well, if someone’s death is thought to be possibly called dying well.

I do not really know how Ziggy lived his life before his cancer, but I know how he did afterwards. He took every word, gesture, and thought seriously, because the time he spent with someone may have been his last. He became someone who did not play relationship games with others. He had many paths to follow, but he took the high road in his final days. I realized just a few years ago that Ziggy taught me that there are better ways to live than most of us choose to follow. It is just to bad Ziggy had to leave this world to teach me this.

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