It’s Halloween, and you just ran out of candy. If the neighborhood kids (or anyone else, really) were to truly scare you, what trick would they have to subject you to?
The prophecy told me there was obviously going to be a Halloween themed prompt today but I don’t think there is anything that could quite scare me…but wait…I just saw this video today on YouTube that turned out to be quite real…I think…and I would definitely be scared brickless if this actually happened…
Watch it in full screen for a truly terrifying experience!
Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must mention a dark night, your fridge, and tears (of joy or sadness; your call). Feel free to switch one ingredient if you have to (or revisit one from previoustrio prompts).
The more somber part of my experiences takes me to a dark, spooky, and desolate ghost town…
An eerie breeze can be heard. The metal sign hanging from the porch of an old shophouse claps in the wind.
Suddenly inside the shophouse, I am standing in front of a crazy old hillbilly sitting in a rocker; he passes me a scratch off lottery ticket; the scene is very short and vague; I believe there is a fire burning in a grate behind us, shining across the wooden floor panels. Then it is morning the next day and police are doing investigations at the place. What happened between me getting the lottery ticket and the lawmen showing up? Did the hillbilly kill me or give me an illegal ticket? I remember him having a red plaid shirt on and sporting a pretty healthy looking countryman beard. He didn’t seem to be there when the police were searching the place so maybe he’s a wanted man who has run off somewhere.
Next, after easing into my rapidly deteriorating dream state, I am standing at the end of a hallway that is clearly like the one in my current home; there are two rooms on either side; one is my actual room and the other is my sisters; it is a debate in my head between going in one or the other. When I enter the room on the right, the door suddenly breaks off its hinges and hangs there. The first thing I see is an open fridge without the freezer on top; my dad has his head in it and is eyeing some donuts on the top door shelf. I grab a sticky chocolate one at the same time he does, our hands nearly colliding with each other. I now look at the hanging door and don’t believe I can stay in this room. I discuss it with dad and mom, who is also in the room. They tell me to go try the other room across the hall.
As I stand in the foyer of the second room and stare into the entrance on the right, I feel a lot more content and joyous; Mom is standing behind me in the hallway and seems happy as well; I believe there are tears of joy in her eyes as she stares back at me. I walk into the room, which seems endless, and start admiring the square pictures and notes on the walls, some of them featuring moments from my childhood, stuff dedicated to me. On the first wall to the left as I enter the domain is a corkboard with an open card tacked to it:
Happy Birthday, Matt
“Mike” is obviously written in my dad’s handwriting but I still think it is actually from my Uncle Mike. As I walk further on towards the “end” of the room, I see a message on the wall from a Kaley, and I immediately think it is from Kaley Cuoco (my mind conjures up an image as well).
Soon, as I turn to the right wall behind me, I come to a note talking about a writing program that is trying to get to D.C and get accepted to write articles for the United States government. The note also says they need volunteers and I feel terrible for not seeing this earlier.
Suddenly, I am taken out of my room and end up inside an indoor football field. Barack Obama and his crew are standing on the far right side of the field (near my right eye) and on the left side, the “writers” are buried underground and sticking their arms out the soil into the air, trying to get Obama’s attention. Obviously Barack doesn’t notice them and has a smug grin on his face.
Another sharp twist of my swirling vortex of thoughts takes me to a much darker moment in the sleepy town of Spring Arbor where I used to live. In an old Buick parked in the driveway of a grey house I moved out of four years ago, I am sleeping face down, as if crazily drunk. The car is from from a John that my mom was seeing for a while but is now a distant friend. The Buick was a hunk of junk and broke down not long after it was used.
Now I see “Dad”, who looks like Ted Beneke from Breaking Bad, coming out of the house.
Then I am inside the house, going into my room down the hallway on the right. Around the “L” shaped corner of the room on the left, I see my bed made with a sign on the end board:
God Gave Us Christ’s Child
Wow. What a message to see in my dreams. That’s surely a sign (no pun intended). That never existed there in real life so something truly remarkable is going on here.
Now, sitting in the front row of the auditorium of my high school, I am attending a play or dance recital; I am near the railing on the right. My dad comes by (not Ted Beneke) to pick me and my sisters or something special up, I’m not quite sure. Someone is expertly showing off their Beethoven skills on stage.
The curtain closes and the black dressed ballerinas exit stage left. Curtain opens again and white dressed ballerinas have taken the stage. Interesting – it’s like evil turning to good.
Yesterday you invented a new astrological sign. Today, write your own horoscope — for the past month (in other words, as if you’d written it October 1st).
The Bug, the Silence, and the Comfort spoke to me about my October destiny as I was sitting down at the little tea table in the dark and dusty wine cellar. The guardian of the 13th Zodiac, sitting opposite me and wearing rich robes of deep scarlet, gazed into a crystal ball and foretold my apparent future.
“Tabbybug sees new pathways in your future. You will expand your horizons this fair October”, he said in a mysterious drawl, with a bit of a French accent.
I shifted in my seat excitedly; this was good news!
More revelations were revealed as the guardian seemed to magically shift the white smoke to and fro without actually touching the glass.
“On October 1, a new beginning will offer another chance to shine at something that you love, to break free from the shadows of mediocrity and be heard for miles around. Around October 15, there will be a growing comfort in yourself and you will start to feel your interests going towards something good. Tabbybug predicts a large community gathering around you, sharing similar interests and aiming for new go –
“Ah”, I responded, “That sounds like WordPress –
“Do not interrupt Tabbybug while he tries to excruciatingly concentrate on predicting pointless events in your future!”
“Sorry, sir. Come again? Did you say pointless?”
But there was a sudden grey clouding of the sphere.
“Oh dear…there will be a time when good luck will fall out and you will be left feeling alone and vulnerable. You will soon realize, around October 20, that your skills are not quite refined and cannot run with the veteran pack. Old Tabby sees your normal routines continuing on as usual, but there will be a desperate need to escape the everyday clutches of mundane tasks and explore the wild blue yonder.”
“Great, are we done yet?”, I said impatiently, getting up to leave.
“Hold on, young wise one! Tabbybug sees you longing for the love and companionship of another living thing, not necessarily a person, on the 29th of October. On that same day, your future self will be incessantly calling, waiting for you to answer his call and either follow or not follow the tattered gold carpet laid out by him.”
After all was said and done, I was about to thank the great Tabbybug and leave, but I had one question that needed answering:
“Mr. Tabbybug, sir, what do you think my costume for Halloween will be, because I still have not decided on one.”
This made old Tabby raise his mystical eyebrows, shift the white smoke around with one long bony finger, and remain silent for a long while until he responded to my question:
“Tabbybug does not know about this Halloween you talk about. He has just been recently appointed to the Zodiac board and the other divine figures have not informed him of anything, choosing to not quite accept him as part of their historical group because they think he’s some sort of unneeded wheel. Tabbybug wishes he could answer your demanding question but the Zodiac does not allow him access to such small mattered details until he have proven himself worthy enough.”
“Oh, I see…sorry, Mr. Tabbybug, sir, I did not know. I guess I’ll find out for myself. But I have just one more question to ask you – how much are you getting paid for this job?”
This question caused Tabby to look even more confused. “Paid? Paid? You think Tabbybug is getting paid for this job! Zodiac guardians do not get paid! They are divine figurative beings who have no use for such trivial stuff. But on the other hand, those bastards could have at least given friendly Tabby a better place to fortune tell than someone’s old wine cellar! Everyone else gets cloud palaces for Orion’s sake!”
And with that, he knocked the sphere off the table and stormed off into the shadows with a whoosh of his cloak. My first meeting with my horoscope master was over.
You’re tasked with creating a brand new astrological sign for the people born around your birthday — based solely on yourself. What would your new sign be, and how would you describe those who share it?
So you put me in charge of creating a new sign for people born around my birthday (August 28)? Am I really that special that I get to lodge a part of my existence into the Zodiac all based on me? What made you grant me this precious right? OK, if you want to play with fire, I’ll whip something up in the fantastical, whiz banging, smoke snaring, whirry wheeling lab I call my mind.
I was born at the end of August. My sign is Virgo. Which in the Zodiac is a picture of a virgin for which I still am (sadly but at the same time happily). It is the sign associated with earth. The last immortal to abandon earth at the end of the Silver Age, when the gods fled to Olympus. And I will be the last one to abandon home for real once I sail off to university in Kalamazoo.
I’m a blank slate. What sign could be about me? I guess you could say I’m a cat person, I love cats (friendly ones, of course), so my sign would be something to do with a cuddly house animal, but we already have a sign associated with a cat, the lion sign of Leo. What if I combine Virgo with Leo and get Veo or Lirgo? Stupid, I know. No, keep thinking…
I’m a shutterbug, a fanatic of taking pictures. How about a bug sign and name it after the God of Light, Lucifer (which is interesting because that name is usually associated with darkness) because of the obvious association of light with picture taking? Sure, parents would be wary of having their children being born on the zodiac cycle of Lucifer but would it really matter? It’s a sign made up by me and has no connections to the sky, history, or demonic possessions. OK, just to make it SFWU (Safe for Worldly Use), the sign could be called Heylel, which is the Hebrew translation of Lucifer.
What sign could be used to describe someone who is strong and silent, such as myself? Harpocrates is the god of silence, so there’s another possibility. Couple that with a strong god like Hercules and you get the sign of Harpocules or Herpocrates (which sounds similar to an infectious disease).
So all together, my sign would describe someone who is loving and gentle, creative and adventurous, not entirely vocal all the time but is very confident inside without making it apparent to the world.
A Veofercrates Tabbybug (as recently suggested by Mrs. Angloswiss, named after her famous cat! But since I also have a cat named that is similar to a tabby, this goes hand in hand).
“Now, all you Tabbybugs (or Tabbys), assemble at my side and rise up and fight the rest of the Zodiac that now pales in comparison to my awesomeness!”
Raging bull Weakness of rain Proudful joy Cowardly brain Gentle giants Tough as steel TNT, ready to heel Laughing clown Crying baby Losing, trying, still can’t save me Rising, falling, against the resistance Smiling, frowning Until no existence God above Waiting for the day That I finally join him And be glorious in May While all the wrongs turn into rights And life gets tough and wants to bite Hard and strong The days press on There’s always a chance For a new upbeat song The road ahead keeps winding and turning But there is still a hot fire inside me That keeps burning and burning…
You step into an acquaintance’s house for the first time, and discover that everything — from the furniture, to the books, to the art on the wall — is identical to your home. What happens next?
Today I met my doppelgänger, He was just like me in every way, From the absent furniture, To the red striped walls, To the awkward TV entertainment cabinet, Sitting in the fray, His house seemed to be a complete carbon copy, He even looked distinctly like me, Had the same eye color (blue), Wore the same clothes, I wondered how coincidentally this could be But then I realized I was looking into a mirror, Reflecting my own image and the room behind, But there was just one thing I didn’t understand, How his hair seemed to be going blind To my surprise, he then smiled back at me, Simply waved, And said, “This is you in 35 years, don’t give up on your destiny.”
What comes to mind in this picture is the idea for a rock album, specifically one that may involve songs of being on a journey, revelations, and finding oneself. I even went to the trouble to create the actual CD art for this album and the square cover art seen on the case (it surprises me that CDs are still surviving in the music industry with the rise of online music stores – and the easiness to just download songs for free). The toning down of this picture to a grayscale has a powerful effect, making the image subtler and timeless.
Obviously, all of the songs fit in with the motorcycle/journey theme of the album. The song “Colton” would be about a junior at my high school last year who was involved in a fatal car crash and how life can deal you the most inopportune fate sometimes. A sort of tribute to him and what how his life might have been if something had told him not to drive home from the prom that night. On this album, there would be a contrast of lighter, faster paced songs, and more darker and emotionally packed ballads.
French Mum, humanitarian, restless explorer and doer on sabbatical in Cebu (Philippines): one Attila in each arm, I am exploring the “toddlers safe” corners of the region, while trying to keep some room for Me.