tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-175495602024-03-07T09:14:52.381+00:00Cobwebs and CandlelightA selection of my short horror tales and spooky poems together with personal views and articles relating to all things paranormal including science fact and fiction. All content is copyrighted.Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-58731334406021544762017-11-01T17:00:00.000+00:002017-11-01T17:17:28.856+00:001914 - 2014 'Remember Tommy Atkins'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="color: white;">Unmissable story of the valiant WW1 & 2 soldiers in 7 minutes... Please share.</span></b><br />
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<b>WARNING: There are graphic images of war dead in the latter part of this video. Viewer discretion is advised.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><b><br /></b><b>A true Horror story...</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: white;"><b>One hundred years ago, on August 4th 1914, Great Britain declared war on Germany and World War One, (or The War to end all Wars, as it came to be known) began. The war raged for four desperate years and is considered to be the deadliest and bloodiest global conflict in history. </b></span><br />
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<b>'Remember Tommy Atkins' is a tribute to those brave souls, some as young as 14, who fought and died in this terrible conflict.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: white;">LYRICS:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">(Spoken)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will
remember them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">(Sung)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">In the Quartermasters Stores, they keep the War to end all
Wars<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">In an ammunition box on a bench.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Inside there’s memories galore of the men what fought that
War<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">From a stinking rat infested muddy trench.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">1914 was the year when wives and mothers shed a tear<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">as they watched their sons and husbands march away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">They just did not know the cost of the lives that would be
lost<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">on Flanders Fields where the Fallen still rest today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">(Captain)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">When you hear my whistle blow, o’er the top we all must go<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">and together we will face the enemy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">I’m your Captain you can place your trust in me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">When you hear my whistle blow, o’er the top we all must go<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">into no-man’s land and on to victory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">(Soldier - Spoken)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">When whistle blew, we went over top.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Keep going said Captain, don’t nobody stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">The noise it were terrible and many men fell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">We were no longer int War, we were in bloody hell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: white;">(Sung)</span></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Ten million soldiers died, ten million families cried<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">and Nations joined in sorrow and in pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">And the Tommy’s what survived, they thanked God they was
alive<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">and said the World must never fight like this again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">It was the War to end all Wars that didn’t end the Wars at
all<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">in ’39 Tommy Atkins once more joined the fray.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Then came Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">‘cos the bloody wars just will not go away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">They were young, they were bold, destined never to grow old<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">as they marched to War and in to History.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">(Spoken)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will
remember them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1131047051323910552017-10-31T16:30:00.000+00:002017-10-31T17:08:53.457+00:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 180%;"><strong><em>The House on Hangman's Hill</em></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>As darkness fell on Halloween, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>the air so keen and chilled<br />
Dressed in masks and witches hats, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>out on the streets they spilled.<br />
Giggling with excitement </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>they traipsed from door to door<br />
Receiving loads of candy's, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>yet wanting more and more.<br />
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From street to street they travelled </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>all feeling such a thrill<br />
Creeping ever closer to </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>the house on hangman’s hill<br />
A witch was said to live there, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>a hook nosed ugly crone<br />
Who liked to catch small children </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>and turn them into stone</b> </span><b> </b><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><b> They stood outside the old dark house </b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKKq-v1bqdDzktQVcZPnbqr2YWzoIensFVSQaZe3GmLnDnNLzzK9ISUx3L6tBOaG4gqSb3rSxwy6tJaaarEQOqGTrjdtv77yij-lJjvxsoVQh-H4f3cJnz0dLWhlHwyxFzEtPG/s1600-h/Haunted+house3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKKq-v1bqdDzktQVcZPnbqr2YWzoIensFVSQaZe3GmLnDnNLzzK9ISUx3L6tBOaG4gqSb3rSxwy6tJaaarEQOqGTrjdtv77yij-lJjvxsoVQh-H4f3cJnz0dLWhlHwyxFzEtPG/s320/Haunted+house3.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>all breathing icy mist<br />
Afraid to walk the winding path </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>that moonbeams gently kissed<br />
Afraid to knock upon the door </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>the gateway into hell<br />
Afraid the witch was waiting there </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;">to weave her evil spell</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b> <br />
The house appeared to watch them </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>as they stood upon the street<br />
Each daring one another </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>to yell out ‘trick or treat’<br />
Then one small voice spoke out the words, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>“what are we waiting for?”<br />
“Why aren't we walking up the path </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>to knock upon the door?”<br />
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With mouth’s agape they turned toward </b></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AiIScU7z5D3tTEzaA-VlJH92_SMjZhs4jOWwMjaS3F6fTVKIBJXnhuQpAXApyIFF7D6cMaotPPMfq78Dv2H2EChvp4wIO27fmR6QQZZK8lSrDwuOa1MMwI5GqgliJYArJ0Cz/s1600-h/Black+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AiIScU7z5D3tTEzaA-VlJH92_SMjZhs4jOWwMjaS3F6fTVKIBJXnhuQpAXApyIFF7D6cMaotPPMfq78Dv2H2EChvp4wIO27fmR6QQZZK8lSrDwuOa1MMwI5GqgliJYArJ0Cz/s320/Black+cat.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>the little one who’d spoken<br />
A girl dressed up in witches garb, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>a black cat gently strokin’<br />
The one who’d started school that day </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>a stranger few had seen<br />
yet here she stood among them </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>on the night of Halloween<br />
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Some looked at her with wicked eyes </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>as she stood there all alone<br />
They would send her to the witch tonight </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>and watch her turned to stone<br />
Excitedly they dared the girl </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>to go and trick or treat<br />
And so she walked the moonlit path </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>as they watched her from the street<br />
<br />
Excitedly they eyed her as </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>upon the door she rapped<br />
Feeling nervy tummy’s as their </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>butterfly wings were flapped<br />
Breathing in and holding </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>and daring not to speak<br />
As the door was slowly opened, </b></span></span><br />
<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/2296/2142/320/witch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/2296/2142/320/witch.jpg" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>creak by creak by creak.<br />
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Quite suddenly the crone appeared, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>green face with large hooked nose<br />
A hand reached out, the girl was gone </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>and the door swung to a close<br />
With frightened screams they ran away </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>as fast as legs would go<br />
If the witch had turned the girl to stone </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>they didn’t want to know<br />
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Inside the house the little girl </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>was tucking into sweets<br />
She’d really had a lovely time </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>playing trick or treats<br />
The witch stood by the window </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>and cackled as they ran<br />
She may be a scary witch to them, </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>but to the girl she was just 'Nan'… </b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: "georgia";"><b><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "georgia";"><span style="font-size: 29px;"><b><i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvd8K6ubMZBA5PMhns9Xjy5kmqilxBzvmN07x1l9BNqypb9Rpp_CeGFgXMpZ7lXQyhqDReHwFR1tpo5lBKWVggBwDBPd3WtBMgBVV8sPwH7zdyM41E_tvuCcW8pDyYx1E0jpQ/s1600-h/Happy+Halloween.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvd8K6ubMZBA5PMhns9Xjy5kmqilxBzvmN07x1l9BNqypb9Rpp_CeGFgXMpZ7lXQyhqDReHwFR1tpo5lBKWVggBwDBPd3WtBMgBVV8sPwH7zdyM41E_tvuCcW8pDyYx1E0jpQ/s200/Happy+Halloween.jpg" /></a></div>
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-8883029902984359472017-10-31T17:00:00.000+00:002017-10-31T17:05:11.951+00:00'CHRISTMAS EVE' - (A Sobering Christmas Thought) - Franky Uk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Warning: This is an emotive, uncompromising anti drink driving narrated poem that will certainly make you think, and it might even make you a little teary eyed. If you are anti drink driving, please share this video with as many people as you can...</span><br />
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1130395247232903952016-10-29T21:45:00.000+01:002016-10-31T22:57:27.443+00:00The Ouija Board - A True Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">I suspect that most people these days will have heard of the <strong><em><span style="color: #ff6600;">Ouija Board</span></em></strong> and will also have some idea as to what it is used for.<br />
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The <strong>'Most Haunted'</strong> crew who appear on <strong>'Living TV'</strong>, conducting paranormal investigations sometimes use something similar.<br />
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For those of you who haven't, here is a quicky explanation:<br />
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A Ouija board is usually rectangular, has the letters of the alphabet suitably arranged in a semi circle and also has the numbers 1 - 10, and the words <strong>'yes'</strong> & '<strong>no'</strong> printed on it.<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"> <br />
On the board is placed either a three legged plastic pointer or a glass tumbler.<br />
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The object of the Ouija board is, <em>(supposedly),</em> to communicate with the dead, <em>(or spirits),</em> on the 'other side'. This is achieved by having those who wish to participate place a finger tip lightly on the plastic pointer or the glass tumbler, (whichever is being used), after which a question is asked.<br />
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In response to the question, the pointer or tumbler will eventually begin to move, seemingly of its own volition, and point to individual letters, slowly spelling out an answer.<br />
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And that is roughly it!<br />
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Now, before I begin, a very <strong><em>serious</em></strong> word of <strong><em>warning.</em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><strong>The Ouija Board is most</strong> <em><strong><span style="color: #ff6600;">definitely not</span></strong></em> <strong>a fun game or something to casually dabble with. It can be <em><span style="color: #ff6600;">extremely dangerous</span></em> so please <em><span style="color: #ff6600;">do not</span></em> play around with this device under any circumstances unless you are truly experienced in such matters and know exactly what you are doing. </strong></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><em><strong><span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">I really cannot emphasise this enough! </span><br />
</span><br />
</strong></em>Okay, let's begin my story: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><em>(Note: I have changed the names of those involved in this story for obvious reasons.).<br />
</em><br />
For as long as I can remember, <em>(very much like my character 'Quentin Greely' who I feature in my short horror tale; 'The Short Cut'),</em> I have had an interest in ghosts, spirits, horror stories and films. In fact virtually anything to do with the supernatural.<br />
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I enjoy most horror/suspense movies, old and new, but particularly the Hammer House of Horror series of films featuring Peter Cushing & Christopher Lee!<br />
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My favorite occult author of all time is the late, great Dennis Wheatley who wrote such classics as, "The Devil Rides Out"; "The Ka Of Gifford Hillary" and "To The Devil A Daughter".<br />
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I used to love reading the old <strong><span style="color: #ff6600;">'Pan Books of Horror'</span></strong>, too, packed with wonderfully scary short horror stories. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><em>(Whatever happened to them?)<br />
</em><br />
Steven King, (the master), is also a favorite of mine.<br />
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And I would sit glued to the goggle box, <em>(TV),</em> whenever 'Tales of the Unexpected'; 'The Twilight Zone'; 'The Outer Limits' or the ripping 'Hammer House of Horror' TV series flickered on the screen!<br />
<br />
Despite this cornucopia of terror tales and films, I had never heard of, or seen a Ouija Board until I first came across one in 1970 .<br />
<br />
And I very soon wished that I hadn't!<br />
<br />
In 1970, I was 2 years married and had 2 lovely children, a toddling girl and a baby boy. I was at that time working as an Admiralty policeman in the Portsmouth Royal Naval Dockyard.<br />
<br />
Not a great job, (hated the shifts), but pretty well paid on a monthly basis.<br />
<br />
My wife, Fir, was also working a few hours a week as a part time checkout cashier at a local supermarket.<br />
<br />
In those days, me and Fir were very keen on playing board games such as; Monopoly, Cluedo, Draughts, (Checkers), and even Snakes & Ladders!<br />
<br />
Anyway, one particular saturday, we were doing our usual monthly shop.<br />
<br />
After purchasing our essential provisions for the month we found we had, unusually, a little cash left over so decided to treat our two bundles of joy to a toy each and a new board game for ourselves.<br />
<br />
There was, <em>(and still is),</em> a shop we used to frequent that sold all manner of - to me at least - exciting goodies including; Halloween costumes and masks, magic tricks, jokes, string and hand puppets, ventriloquist dolls and of course, toys & games.<br />
<br />
Often short of money we would generally make a visit to the shop simply to browse around.<br />
<br />
This time, however, we would be buying!<br />
<br />
We first - as always - looked in their display window to check out what games were currently available and, there, on the top of a display unit, right in the middle of various other well known boxed games was a brightly coloured box bearing the legend: <strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">"</span></strong></span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #ff6600;"><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">Ouija"</span></strong><span style="color: black;">. </span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMlEklkLM9r0EqKoLo5q2SQ8TqhodKZNTvYO6ImxQOOwY7t5IxjjzzCpm13g3F6LpZcz69JmqB2q5D3cQ-bmIIDFnfAoQOiHza6L1dvsxObRuMGzCFgLfFoteFIcLVocWDnEk/s1600-h/Ouija.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMlEklkLM9r0EqKoLo5q2SQ8TqhodKZNTvYO6ImxQOOwY7t5IxjjzzCpm13g3F6LpZcz69JmqB2q5D3cQ-bmIIDFnfAoQOiHza6L1dvsxObRuMGzCFgLfFoteFIcLVocWDnEk/s400/Ouija.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Written just above the the word <span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">"</span></strong></span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="color: #ff6600;"><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">Ouija" </span></strong></span></span></span>was the phrase: <strong><em><span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">"The Mysterious Mystifying Game!"</span>.</span></em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "georgia";"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">For some reason or other, it really caught my fancy and so we entered the shop to take a closer look.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
Well, when I saw the box close to and read the following written instructions:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
</span><br />
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><strong><em>'You will be amazed! Just place the plastic pointer on the Ouija board and ask a question - any question - and your question will be magically answered! '.</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"> I was hooked and just had to have it!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">And so we bought it!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
That evening, with the kids safely tucked up in bed, we opened <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">"The Mysterious Mystifying Game!"</span></span> and set it up on our coffee table.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
Following the very simple instructions, <em>(which incidentally made no mention of contacting dead people and/or spirits),</em> we positioned the plastic pointer on the board and placed our fingertips lightly upon it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
Feeling just a tad foolish, we asked a general question, <em>(what the original question was I honestly cannot recall),</em> and to our amazement, the pointer actually began to move from one letter to another spelling out the correct answer!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
It excited me, but not so much Fir.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
Having an enquiring mind, I decided to learn more about the Ouija board and so visited our local library, (no internet in those days!).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
Naturally, I soon discovered the 'talking to spirits' thing! And it excited me even more! The Ouija board, it seemed, could be a portal to the other side!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
I couldn't get enough of it! Every spare moment, we set up the board and contacted 'the spirits of the dead' asking endless questions and carefully writing down the chosen letters that spelt out their answers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
We asked about things we couldn't possibly know the answer to. Much of the time, we got garbled, unintelligible answers, but not always. Sometimes the answers were uncannily accurate!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
Then came the fateful day Brian and Charles came through. They introduced themselves quite easily, the plastic pointer fairly whizzing around the board picking out the letters of their names. <em>(Incidentally, Brian and Charles are the actual names that were spelled out).</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">I sensed no danger, they appeared to be just a couple of fun loving spirits who mostly answered our questions and told very humorous, tho' sometimes crude, jokes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
In fact, I can't deny that I grew to like them and looked forward to contacting them whenever possible. Fir, on the other hand, was a little less than keen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
As I said, I didn't sense any danger, but unbeknown to me, (or Fir), someone rather special did!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
One Friday afternoon, several weeks after purchasing the Ouija board, Fir went off on a shopping trip with my mother and the kids and so I invited my friend, Mike, round for a session on the Ouija board.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This was Mike's first encounter with the Ouija board and, of course, with Brian and Charles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Things were going great. Mike was really enjoying himself. Brian and Charles were on top form, answering questions, relating anecdotes and telling the odd joke.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And then, quite abruptly, halfway through a sentence being spelt out by Brian and Charles, the pointer stopped moving!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was as if they had suddenly decided to stop communicating.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was a shade annoyed and kept asking them to continue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Finally, the pointer began to move, but unlike the speedy Brian and Charles movement, the pointer progressed very slowly, very deliberately.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As usual, I copied each letter that was picked out onto a piece of paper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At length, the pointer ceased moving and I checked the spelled out message, reading it aloud to Mike. This is what the message actually said, word for word:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Nobody, my little nobody. Hate Brian and Charles. Think and love each other!"<br />
</span> </em></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of course, the message on the paper made absolutely no sense to me at all. Mike was equally baffled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With a frown, I folded the piece of paper and put it to one side. Me and Mike then made a few more attempts at contacting Brian and Charles, all to no avail. The pointer refused to move.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, Mike decided to call it a day and head off home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I accompanied him to my front door and, after making arrangements to meet up for a drink one evening, I bade him goodbye.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now alone, I packed up the Ouija board, made myself a cup of tea, then slumped in front of the TV., feet up on the coffee table, the message virtually forgotten.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fir finally arrived back from her shopping trip a little harrassed. Toddler daughter had been playing up a bit. Not so baby son who had slept the whole time in his pram.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As Fir attended to baby son, I gave toddler daughter my dreaded </span><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'you are in big trouble'</span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> look. She countered with her disarming </span><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'butter wouldn't melt'</span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> look. So I sighed, called it quits and gave her a hug!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With baby son now gurgling happily in his baby chair and toddler daughter engrossed with her dolly's, we repaired to the kitchen and Fir began preparing our evening meal whilst I made a cup of tea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"So, what have you been doing all afternoon?", she enquired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Oh, nothing much", I replied</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"And by 'nothing much' you actually mean... you've been playing around with that Ouija board again, I 'spose?" she said a mite disdainfully.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Well... Yes", I said, "me and Mike. Been talking to Brian and Charles"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fir sniffed. "Anything interesting?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Not really".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I suddenly remembered the other message!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Oh, except there was something pretty wierd. Another message, not from Brian and Charles! I'll go and get it!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I retrieved the piece of paper and returned to the kitchen. Fir held out a hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No, I'll read it to you", I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I'd rather read it myself, thank you very much", she insisted, with a smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I handed her the piece of paper and she began to read.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To my astonishment, Fir glanced up at me then let out a little sob and clutched at her throat. Tears began streaming down her face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Concerned, I rushed over to her, my arm snaking around her shoulder. "Hey now, whats the matter, honbun?".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"This message", she said, wiping away the tears. </span><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It's from my nan!"</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What d'you mean, from your nan!", I said incredulously! "Whatever makes you think that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Because </span><strong><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'my little nobody'</span></em></strong><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> is what she used to call me when I was a little girl!". "Don't you see, she's warning us to keep away from Brian and Charles!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was stunned. Fir had never told me that her nan used to affectionately call her 'my little nobody'. And because of this I felt I had to believe the message was a sincere and genuine warning!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It seemed to me that Fir's nan had somehow broken through the veil to spell out a message telling us to stop communicating with Brian and Charles, who she evidently considered to be evil and dangerous spirits, and to simply think only of our love for each other! </span><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(A love I am proud to say that has now lasted 44 years to date).</span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> She had also cleverly used Fir's childhood nickname to validate it was her who was sending the message.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I feel I must explain at this point that Fir had been virtually brought up by her nan and grandad and they had been extremely loving and close. About a year before I met Fir, her nan had tragically died. Fir had naturally been devastated. But she always believed her nan would be constantly watching over her, protecting her and keeping her safe.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
And quite obviously, she was! (And undoubtedly still is!).<br />
</span> </em><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am ashamed to admit, however, that the lure of the Ouija board was too strong for me to resist and although I had promised Fir I would destroy it, I did not immediately heed the warning from Fir's nan and so stupidly contacted Brian and Charles one more time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And boy, were they ever different now. It seemed they realised they had been found out and so began to play ugly little mind games saying they were going to hurt me and possess me so they could have sex with my wife, </span><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(although they put it a lot more crudely than that!), </span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and then kill me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh yes, they turned out to be very nasty, evil and threatening spirits... And, I have to admit, pretty </span><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">frightening!</span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The experience certainly put the wind up me!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, I destroyed the Ouija board, chopped it in to pieces and burned it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I am happy to say, </span><em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(thanks I believe to Fir's nan)</span></em><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, nothing untoward has ever happened since.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div align="center">
<strong><span style="color: #ff6600; font-size: 130%;">Footnote:</span></strong></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Now, most sceptics of the paranormal believe that the Ouija phenomenon is all in the mind and the movement of the pointer on the Ouija board is actually caused by tiny subconscious muscular movements of the participants arms and fingers.<br />
<br />
In other words, the participants themselves are controlling the pointer and are thus answering their own questions by subconsciously pushing the pointer towards the required letters.<br />
<br />
The thing is, if this be true, how is it that the message I received from Fir's nan was <strong><em>not</em></strong> generated by a question?<br />
<br />
And, as I had no prior knowledge that Fir's nan used to call her, <strong><em>'my little nobody'</em>,</strong> how on earth could I subconsciously spell out that particular message?<br />
<br />
I really do have a very open mind and so would genuinely be interested in any comments from sceptics, <em>(or anyone else come to that),</em> explaining this!<br />
<br />
Finally, my advice to anyone reading this true tale is this:<br />
<br />
If you ever see a board game called <strong><span style="color: #ff6600;">'The Ouija Board'</span></strong>, don't even contemplate buying it. As I said before; it is most definitely not a game!<br />
<br />
And please remember this:<br />
<br />
Using a Ouija board is like opening a doorway to your house. Eventually, all kinds of strangers would use that open door to enter your home. Some of these strangers would be very nice, amiable and benign, while others....<br />
<br />
Well I'm sure you get the picture! </span></div>
Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1128628017139322512016-10-30T23:45:00.000+00:002016-10-31T22:16:12.510+00:00The Short Cut<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/th_tombstn.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/th_tombstn.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<blockquote>
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© All Rights Reserved</div>
</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b>When I was 14 years old I was dared, (by my friends), to walk alone through the local graveyard at night. Not wishing to appear cowardly in front of my peers, I foolishly accepted the challenge. Thankfully, I got through okay but it was a terrifying experience I will never forget. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b><br />
</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b>The following tale is loosely based on that fear inducing journey.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b><br />
</b></i></div>
<br />
<span style="color: lime; font-size: x-large;"><b>The Short Cut</b></span><br />
<span style="color: lime;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: lime;"><b>A seasonal horror tale</b></span><br />
<span style="color: lime;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: lime;"><b>1</b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<div align="center">
</div>
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<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Quentin Greely munched<span style="background-color: black;"> </span></span></span><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">feverishly</span><span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";"> </span><span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">on an already severely bitten down fingernail </span></span><span style="background-color: black; color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">whilst absently watching the film credits crawl slowly up the silver screen.</span><br />
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">
<br />
Not because he was particularly interested in discovering who did what in the movie but simply because he point blank refused to give up his seat in the Rialto cinema until the auditorium was totally quiet and people free!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">He preferred to wait like this in order to avoid being caught up in the noisy, bustling, sharp elbowed hordes rushing for the exits. Being content with his own company, he pretty much disliked crowds.<br />
<br />
When all was finally quiet, he stood up, shrugged on his heavy army surplus greatcoat and sauntered nonchalantly up the empty aisle.<br />
<br />
Strolling through the air warmed foyer at a casual pace, he politely bade the pretty young bubble gum chewing cashier a genial ‘good night’. She reciprocated with a quick and practised glossy pink lipped smile before dismissing him completely and forever from her thoughts.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Pushing open the glass swing doors that lead from the foyer on to the high street, Greely stepped from the commodious warmth of the cinema out into the bitter wintry evening of a mid December night.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">A blustery icy wind blew fierce and cold in his face as he noted the moonless sky was becoming worryingly overcast with angry ink black clouds, heavy and pregnant with rain.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">Heedful of a potential downpour - and subsequent unwelcome drenching - Greely quickly pulled on a pair of grey woollen gloves, rammed his hands deep into his greatcoat pockets and set off at a fair speed in the direction of his home.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">The freezing wind, keen and biting, whistled spitefully past his exposed and vulnerable ears rendering them numb and yet achingly painful.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Yanking up the thick collar of his greatcoat in a futile attempt at warming his chilled protuberances, he mentally cursed the arctic weather as he trudged swiftly along the frosty high street pavement passing brightly lit shops and stores - all of which had merry Christmas displays twinkling festively in their windows.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Shrugging his shoulders forward, Greely bent his head down and stared at the frosty white pavement moving swiftly beneath his trainer covered feet.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Being a great believer in "thought shortens journey's", Greely began to think, conjuring up mental images of whatever gave him most pleasure.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">And so it was that, as he turned a corner taking him out of the High Street into Casablanca road, he found himself contemplating his tiny but cosy, bachelor quarters situated at the very top of old Mrs Freling's three-storey boarding-house in Jeremiah Close.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">This was his happy place. It was where he felt most at ease. His special world that kept him a million miles away from reality.<br />
<br />
In his minds eye he could see it clearly.<br />
<br />
A basic square room, it housed a comfortable single bed that lodged beneath an ancient sash cord window.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">A coal effect electric fire was set in a Victorian style, green marble tiled fireplace and beside the fireplace, an overstuffed brown leatherette chair that enveloped Greely’s body so comfortably he would often swear that it must have been specifically designed just for him!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">In one corner of the room there stood a chipped and rather dilapidated looking red, Formica topped kitchen table with single matching chair - where he sat and ate all his meals - and, bordering the table and chair, an ancient two ringed Belling electric stove upon which he cooked them.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Last, but by no means least, in the corner opposite the kitchen table, lived the oak, glass-fronted bookcase that housed his beloved books!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Thinking deeply, Greely made an unconscious turn out of Casablanca road and into Goose Lane.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Plodding mechanically along he now began to reflect upon his cherished books, totally oblivious to the neat suburban houses to his far left and the antediluvian moss covered wall of the town cemetery to his immediate right.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Even the raw weather was temporarily forgotten as he savoured thoughts of the tales he'd read and those he'd yet to read.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Greely had but two true passions in his solitary life and they were; 'books and movies'. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">But, only of a certain type!</span></span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";"> <br />
Horror!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Yes, Greely was totally obsessed with Vampires and Vampire legend, Werewolves, Ghouls, Zombies and Demons.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">He would happily scour bookshops, new and second hand for hour upon hour, endlessly searching for the definitive publication. Good, bad or indifferent, it mattered not to him so long as some mention of blood sucking, flesh eating fiends were made.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">And, if the Rialto cinema was showing a horror feature, Greely would very nearly have an orgasm!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">The film he'd just witnessed at the Rialto Cinema was - to the more discerning cinema-goer - nothing less than appalling and a complete and utter waste of time and money.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">But not to Quentin Greely!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><em><strong>" BLOOD OF THE VAMPIRE DEMON "</strong></em> gripped and enthralled him from start to finish. In fact, during some of the more graphically gruesome scenes, he was literally on the edge of his seat, eyes wide and unblinking, taking in every gory detail of torn flesh and crunching bones!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">With mouth agape, his large sweating hands clenched and unclenched in what can only be described as pure unadulterated pleasure!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">So involved was he, both physically and mentally, he never once heard the sporadic, ribald, and somewhat coarse comments, yelled out by a group of high spirited youngsters sat just three rows down from his position.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">But then, nothing short of a nuclear bomb could have ruined Greely's enjoyment!</span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="color: lime;"><b>2</b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Halfway down Goose Lane came the turn off into Cemetery Walk, aptly named as it did run up to and through, the town cemetery.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">During daylight hours, Greely found the 'Walk' to be a pleasantly peaceful and extremely convenient short cut home. But, when darkness fell and invisible owls hooted eerily from within the darkened branches of the tree-lined graveyard path, Greely couldn't help but visualise the murky cemetery to be simply swarming with vampires, over run by zombies, and literally teeming with all manner of vile flesh eating creatures.</span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/Zombie.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Zombie.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px;" /></a><br />
Despite common sense telling him that such creatures did not truly exist, Greely was so fearful of his somewhat over amplified and ghastly visions, he found himself utterly incapable of summoning up the requisite courage to make use of the Cemetery Walk short cut at night and so tended to avoid it like the plague!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">The numbing weather appeared to grow even colder as Greely approached the corner of Cemetery Walk; the fierce cutting wind seeming able to penetrate his bulky khaki greatcoat with consummate ease, nipping at his pallid flesh and causing his tall, angular frame to shiver and shake uncontrollably.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Dismally, he paused on the corner, stamping his frozen feet and flailing his arms about like a demented windmill trying desperately to generate a little heat.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">With teeth chattering like castanets and his eyes - stung by the uncaring wind - watering copiously, Greely glanced across the street at the houses opposite perceiving </span></span><span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">Christmas trees twinkling with brightly coloured lights, </span><span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";">bedroom and living room lights blazing like beacons of warmth and comfort and chimneys belching the smoke of crackling fires burning brightly and merrily in their grates.</span><span style="color: lime;"> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Shaking his head Greely sighed as an overwhelming sense of envy engulfed him. He wished, with heart and soul, that he could be home right now, slumped in his fireside chair, the electric fire full on, with a hot steamy mug of cocoa in one hand and a good, bloodcurdling book in the other.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Heaven!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Averting his wistful gaze, he wiped his weepy eyes with a gloved hand and sniffed back the liquefied mucus that was threatening to vacate his large hairy nostrils and run down on to his upper lip.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Sighing deeply, Greely now contemplated the long freezing walk still ahead of him.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">To get home by his normal night time route, he would obviously have to circumnavigate the cemetery.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">That would mean walking a quarter of a mile further down Goose Lane, then a right turn into Fircone Road, another half mile before turning right again into Copper Valley Avenue and then, yet another quarter of a mile before the left turn into Jeremiah Close.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">The idea of walking another mile in such bitterly cold weather did not bode well with Greely, as he stood on the corner, sniffing and shivering violently.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">The only alternative was, of course, the shorter, half mile Cemetery Walk route which would cut his journey time significantly.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia";"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">That route, however, also did not bode well.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia";">It did not bode well at all!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Under normal nocturnal circumstances, Greely would never have considered taking the short cut - not in a trillion years. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But the climate was so intense and severe and his body so ached with cold he was at least, (on this one occasion), prepared to weigh up the options.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It now came down to choices and decisions. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A case of which of the two was the lesser evil?</span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Taking the lengthier route and remaining in a state of refrigeration for a longer period? Or the shorter, albeit terrifying, route through the cheerless, unlit graveyard?</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bending his thin frame forward, Greely peered indecisively along the foot-way of Cemetery Walk, through the open rusting iron graveyard gates at the obscure and somewhat forbidding path he would have to take should he choose the short cut.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0uUtqchGVFmgL1G17tMEj1xf30MmVeMbzgyo-cdH6Ap9U9JgOk-riqzvVSwVsG8z96A0lWtHYQjFDYrjFYZ7SAItOPuzlfPr2iAT9M7iO-cz86Mi5roqL2TLZsbOtyMukWp4/s1600/cemetary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0uUtqchGVFmgL1G17tMEj1xf30MmVeMbzgyo-cdH6Ap9U9JgOk-riqzvVSwVsG8z96A0lWtHYQjFDYrjFYZ7SAItOPuzlfPr2iAT9M7iO-cz86Mi5roqL2TLZsbOtyMukWp4/s1600/cemetary.jpg" /></a><span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His watery eyes were unable to penetrate far into the black shroud beyond the gates but he could just discern several grey tombstones, protruding from the earth - like so many rotten teeth in a dark cavernous and iniquitous mouth - close to the well spaced trees.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Greely shivered involuntarily. But this time, not with cold!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Folding his arms protectively across his bony chest, he turned and looked along the well lit and somewhat comforting Goose Lane as the Arctic wind increased its onslaught and began to bite more harshly and hungrily at his body.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unbearable as this icy weather was, Greely knew there could really be only one choice of route for him... The long one!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The graveyard was a definite... no - no!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He would rather risk death by hypothermia than face walking the dark shrouded pathway on the other side of the cemetery gates!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Finally happy with his decision, he set foot for home.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was just about halfway across Cemetery Walk when the dusky, painfully swollen clouds above him finally ruptured and it began to pour heavily with cascading streams of icy rain.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Greely halted his homeward advance and, unable to believe his luck, stood, in utter dejection and disbelief, as voluminous drops of water smacked viciously against the road and painfully upon his bare, balding head.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He could have just about put up with the cold.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But icy rain as well!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shit, no...</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With a sinking heart, Greely finally had to concede that fate had almost certainly intervened and a choice of route had more or less been denied him.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Logic dictated that there was really only one possible route he could take now!</span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A route where spreading green leafed branches extended from tall trees and arched across a path forming a natural canopy.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The one route that would afford him at least some protection against the deluge.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The short cut along Cemetery Walk!</span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="color: lime;"><b>3</b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
</div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Instinctively heaving his already sodden greatcoat over his soaking wet head, Greely lumpily swallowed his terror as best he could and, heading for the cover of the trees, ran swiftly along Cemetery Walk and through the iron gates into the dismal and dank smelling graveyard.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The only small crumb of comfort for Greely was that, although the rain was now simply thundering down, it was hardly able to penetrate the thick leafy awning that towered some fifty or so feet above him.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Only a few isolated drops succeeded in worming their way through, only to suicidally plummet, then spatter on to the graveyard path.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Feeling just a mite gratified, Greely released his greatcoat allowing it to slowly slide from his head down on to his narrow shoulders.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite the fact that the cemetery gates he'd just passed through were no more than a few paces away and could be easily reached and exited within seconds, Greely immediately began to feel horribly vulnerable and therefore wasted no time in scanning, with wide staring eyes, (and a generous portion of nervous trepidation), the gloomy, and distinctly sinister, leafy tunnelled path that lay before him.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He didn't like the look of it.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He didn't like the look of it at all.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not one little bit!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What if there really were flesh eating, blood sucking zombies, skulking in the shadows or crouching behind the gnarled and muscular trunks of the trees?</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Christ!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They could be watching him right now!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Watching and waiting. Willing him to foolishly enter their domain. Hungrily craving his flesh and his blood.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was sorely tempted to remain where he was.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After all, he reasoned, the trees afforded adequate shelter and, rather than risk a terrifying and potentially dangerous journey through the fearsome graveyard, he could wait out the rain storm and then resume his journey homewards along the comparative safety of Goose Lane.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it was on the cards that the brutal downpour would last out this cruel and bitter night and he was, even now, seriously chilled to the bone and shivering furiously.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If he could just find the courage within himself to ignore the fact that he was in this shadowy necropolis of the dead.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If he could just listen to the voice of reason and convince himself that zombies and vampires did not actually exist.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If he could just concentrate his thoughts on normal everyday matters - such as his boring shelf fillers job at the local hypermarket - then, with luck, he just might make it through physically and mentally unscathed.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of course, that was a helluva lot of 'if's'.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Concluding he at least had to try, he steeled himself for the attempt by taking several deep breaths and then, forcing himself to concentrate intensely on his shelf filling duties, valiantly set off along the tarmac path of Cemetery Walk.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was about half way into the leafy stygian tunnel when the rain abruptly stopped.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so did Greely!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Without the thunderous roar of the rain, the cemetery had instantly become ominously silent.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This was a shame since, on the face of it, he'd been doing extraordinarily well, just plodding along, eyes fixed upon the graveyard path, subconsciously keeping to the centre in order to maintain a fairly safe and equal distance between him and the vast numbers of grim and grey tombstones situated either side of him.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With tremendous fortitude - and to his credit - he'd successfully managed to block out any frightening images attempting to enter his usually receptive mind, giving only positive and agreeable thoughts uninhibited access.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At least he had!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Up until the rain had left off.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The persistent roar of the torrent crashing against the leafy boughs above him had been strangely comforting, and had undoubtedly aided his concentration.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But now, apart from the odd few drops hitting the path with a faint, rhythmic and melodic plopping sound and the soft but haunting voice of the wind blowing cold and mournful through the clicking branches above him, all was quiet.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Deathly quiet!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Greely didn't like this quiet.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was eerie and, well, intimidating; threatening...</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Scary!</span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="color: lime;"><b>4</b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
</div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For the first time since entering the graveyard, Greely felt an uncomfortable but overpowering desire to look about him; to check carefully on his surroundings.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first thing he noted, with a growing unease, was a thin wispy layer of whitish mist beginning to cover some of the graves just beyond the trees.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Warily, he studied the mist as an owl let out a spooky hoot somewhere in the distance.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Inevitably, the mental barrier he'd successfully constructed in order to hold back and resist unwelcome images began to crumble, and his head immediately started to fill with undesirable thoughts.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How many times, he contemplated reluctantly, had he read in a book, or witnessed a scene of this ilk at the cinema?</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Why, only tonight in <strong><em>" BLOOD OF THE VAMPIRE DEMON "</em></strong> there had been just such a scene.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Greely shuddered involuntarily and swallowed a painful lump as a rather revolting and gruesome part of the film, apropos dead people crawling from their mist covered graves and subsequently devouring a young man alive, clawed its way into his mind.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGknTlQsjCAG4gicax69HfdgmcSJzdkEjLKUMdiO5XmTKa4JUAKmWDRKj7iUlWWiyhf2tMwkvIInmSBKLTealrrfPyAcIpNsQdrvM75qSGMMKCufT-wMCu2uQ3l4xoM5PwuMel/s1600/Short+Cut+creature.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGknTlQsjCAG4gicax69HfdgmcSJzdkEjLKUMdiO5XmTKa4JUAKmWDRKj7iUlWWiyhf2tMwkvIInmSBKLTealrrfPyAcIpNsQdrvM75qSGMMKCufT-wMCu2uQ3l4xoM5PwuMel/s1600/Short+Cut+creature.jpg" /></a><span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was, at this moment in time, and considering his situation, a review he could well have done without! After all here he was, alone in a dark and dismal graveyard surrounded by, he gulped, dead people! Granted, he couldn't see them, hidden as they were by six feet of earth, but even so, a multitude of the deceased were definitely, incontrovertibly sharing this graveyard with him!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now the worms of fear began to wriggle and writhe inside his stomach as the terrible vision of that unfortunate young man being oh so slowly - and graphically - eaten by an entire army of rotting, maggot infested creatures, played over and over again in his head like a crazy looped video.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In a frantic attempt to stifle this macabre scene, Greely pondered on just how far the exit gates were from his present position. He quickly estimated that he was a little over half way. Less than 1000 metres to go and he would be out of this hellish place and - more to the point - safe.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The wind seemed to be gathering strength, whipping the trees and inciting the mist to eddy and swirl eerily around the dismal grave stones.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Greely eyed the mist with a growing mixture of misgiving and dread consternation, wishing with his entire being that he'd now taken the longer, but far more agreeable, Goose Lane route home.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Desperately trying to rebuild his mental barrier, disregard the ghostly mist and expunge the horrifying image of those filthy cinematic zombies, Greely cautiously set off along the dark pitched path. But, try as he might, the barrier doggedly refused to be reconstructed and the bloodthirsty scene positively declined to be erased.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To make matters worse, the fearsome blanket of spectral mist thickened and drifted across the graveyard path slowly enveloping Greely from his damp and frozen feet right up to his trembling knees as the relentless wind blew keen and icy through the branches of the trees.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But he hardly felt the cold now.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was the Phantom-like mist that now held his anxious attention.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No longer able to see his feet through the ever thickening mist, his imagination jumped into overdrive and he began to feel unpleasantly exposed and terribly helpless.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He could now quite easily envisage vast quantities of dead, fleshless, malevolent beings silently crawling and squirming invisibly beneath the misty carpet toward him, mercilessly seeking out his unprotected ankles, in order to grip and to grab and to pull him down with their cold bony fingers, and thereafter to viciously tear and rip at his living flesh with their long taloned fingernails and sharp yellow teeth.</span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just as they did to that poor unfortunate young man in; <strong><em>"BLOOD OF THE VAMPIRE DEMON”</em></strong></span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Believing - as he now did - that his next step could, quite possibly, be his last, Greely’s entire body tingled and quaked with foreboding as every single stride forward became an escalating nightmare of absolute terror.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nervously, his eyes darted from left to right, constantly seeking any abnormal disturbances in the rolling mist that just might indicate the approach of some murderous and hideous dead thing.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Near to breaking point, he hesitantly followed a bend in the path.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And, to his utter and joyful relief, he discovered salvation beckoning in the form of the exit gates some two hundred metres distant.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And beyond the gates?</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The lighted windows of houses shining warmly and brightly.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just the sight and homely normality of those dwellings boosted Greely's morale one hundred per cent and, as the gates drew ever closer he became less and less afraid. He even began to admonish himself for ever being frightened in the first place!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He had not, after all, been pestered, delayed or even slightly attacked by vampires, zombies or indeed any representatives of the living dead!</span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How utterly stupid he'd been. There was absolutely nothing to fear in a graveyard! </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dead people couldn't really move, and even if they could, they'd have one helluva job shifting six feet of earth without the aid of a shovel, now wouldn't they?</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He kicked at the mist boyishly as he walked, watching it undulate like rippling waves on a silver sea. Oh yes, his cup of confidence was now truly over flowing.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Happily believing that he'd made it through the feared and sombre graveyard safely, he was quite suddenly overcome with a blood rush of bravado.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Boldly swaggering to within a few feet of a grey and weathered, lichen covered gravestone, he glared at it, smiled impishly to himself and then slowly raised two stiff fingers in a gesture of irreverent defiance." Fuck you! ", he whispered mischievously.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Content with this brave and assertive action, he strode manfully toward the gates.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was when he was some fifty or sixty yards short of the exit that he thought he caught something moving, disturbing the mist close to the last tree on his right.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With a pounding heart and his new-found courage cracking significantly, he stopped and carefully studied the area, earnestly checking for any sign of further movement.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There appeared to be none.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Breathing a heavy sigh and almost crying out loudly with relief, he marched purposefully towards the gates.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="color: lime;"><b>5</b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was just about opposite the last tree on his right, when his foot connected with a soft object lying unseen beneath the mist.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Greely's heart grew legs and jumped high with fright as a ghastly moaning sound drifted up from the depths of the mist.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stuffing a woollen gloved hand into his mouth to prevent a threatened scream from escaping his lips, he quickly stepped back a pace as the dreadful moaning, coupled with a kind of a terrible breathy gurgling noise continued.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Utterly convinced that some kind of undead abomination was skulking in the mist and that he was almost certainly in mortal danger, Greely's mind was thrown into a whirlpool of panic and indecision.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Should he stand perfectly still and silent in hopes that whatever was making that God awful noise would simply just go away and leave him alone? Or should he make an escape attempt?</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a heart stopping wail that decided him. Summoning up what little courage he had left, he began to tiptoe slowly in a wide circular direction past whatever was lurking in the mist, very carefully placing one foot silently in front of the other.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He'd managed only two soundless paces and was halfway through his third when the icy wind abruptly whipped up the mist forcing it to scurry from the path like a thing possessed.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And, for a few brief and terrible moments, Greely was given the unwelcome opportunity of confronting the object of his fear.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With terror stricken eyes he beheld a hideous skeletal thing draped in a saggy and wrinkled dark grey skin. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Blood red malignant eyes glowered hungrily at him from dark sunken sockets whilst it wheezily disgorged a putrid yellow and viscous substance from its vile, thin lipped mouth.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Worst of all, Greely observed, with heart stopping horror, it's foul bony animated fingers were slowly moving toward him.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Frozen with fear, Greely's mind had the opportunity of recording every revolting detail before the mist returned and all but hid the loathsome zombie-like creature from his sight.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Never had he known such throat tightening terror. Never had he been so intensely afraid. He was convinced now that it could only be a matter of seconds before the creature was upon him, tearing his living flesh asunder.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Feverishly, he looked towards the exit gates. There was deliverance. A half a dozen long strides and he would escape this living nightmare. Just half a dozen!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He had to at least try… or die!</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He'd barely decided to cut and run when, to his utter shock, he felt the deathly cold touch of bony fingers snaking around then tightly gripping his right ankle.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His stomach turned Olympic somersaults and his heart skipped several beats as the vision of what was soon to become of him compelled his bowels to evacuate freely and noisily into his, 'clean on today', ‘Y Fronts’ and nearly caused his mind to snap like an over stretched elastic band.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Screaming in terror, he instinctively stamped his left foot hard down on to the arm of the hellish abomination that held him.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A deafening howl of pain and rage shattered the peaceful stillness of the graveyard as Greely felt the awful skeletal fingers loosen.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Seizing his chance, he forcibly wrenched his ankle away and bolted hysterically towards the exit gates as fast as his excrement filled underpants and terrified jelly-like legs would allow, screaming at the top of his voice.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<span style="color: lime;">6</span><br />
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Behind him, in the graveyard, the mist stirred as a very pale and extremely intoxicated Claude Capstick, the 65 year old resident gravedigger and well-known whisky lover, hauled himself up and sat in his old, wrinkled and loose fitting dark grey raincoat nursing a painfully bruised left arm.</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div align="left">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Vigorously rubbing a red and sunken, drink sodden eye with a thin bony finger he muttered angrily that a man ought to be allowed to spew up in peace wivout 'aving 'is arm stamped on by some soddin' maniac like that one runnin' out of the cemetery gates making enough noise to <strong><em>wake the bleeding dead!</em></strong></span></div>
<div align="left">
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />
</span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
<br />
<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/Crosses.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Crosses.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></div>
Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-71528720813290869252016-10-31T14:32:00.000+00:002016-10-31T21:19:40.440+00:00The Shadowman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Something very strange happened to me 11:30 pm last night. I was lying on my settee, (couch), and had fallen asleep watching a documentary on TV about the escape from Alcatraz by three inmates, Frank Morris, Clarence Anglin and John Anglin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">Nothing strange about falling asleep. I have fallen asleep before watching late night TV. And I suspect many of you have too.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">The strange thing is that I woke up very suddenly and not gradually as I usually do. Not only that, as soon as I opened my eyes, I was completely wide awake and aware, which again is unusual for me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">And this is where it got truly weird.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">As soon as I opened my eyes, I plainly saw the dark silhouette of a humanoid figure standing right in front of me. In a split second, this figure had moved swiftly to my left and disappeared. I was stunned and remember thinking; 'what the hell was that'.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">I then noted that my whole body was vibrating. Not shaking or trembling, but literally vibrating from my head to my feet. I held my hand up and, although I could feel the vibrations quite strongly, my hand was as steady as a rock.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">I felt no fear. In fact, I felt very calm, and even the vibrations didn't really bother me. And then without thinking I heard myself say out loud; 'Got you! I saw you!'.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">I have no idea why I said that.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">The vibrations continued for several minutes and then stopped. I sat and thought over this strange incident determined not to forget any part of it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">I have spent this morning going over the incident. I don't understand the vibrations at all.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">However, where the humanoid figure is concerned, it occurred to me that maybe I had seen something I was not supposed to see. That I had caught this humanoid figure out by waking up so quickly. And when he/she realised I could clearly see him/her, he/she swiftly disappeared.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">To where, is anybody's guess.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">And who or what was the humanoid figure? And why was it in silhouette?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">I have absolutely no idea.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">I must emphasise that there was nothing scary about this incident and I felt no danger whatsoever. It was, nonetheless, a very strange experience and, as far as I can recall, it has never ever happened to me before.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">Now I'm sure there will be many sceptics and debunkers who will say I had suffered some kind of hallucination.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">Well, I can assure you it was no hallucination.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">And you know what. I don't really care what sceptics or debunkers think. I know what I saw and I know what I felt.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;">And it was real.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: lime;"><br /></span>
</div>
Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1130439907903280632015-01-20T15:30:00.000+00:002015-01-20T20:38:53.152+00:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1132435283778388532013-05-31T16:00:00.000+01:002013-06-02T00:09:50.138+01:00DO YOU LIKE TO BE SCARED!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-54612178110957733422013-05-08T06:24:00.000+01:002013-05-21T06:25:07.263+01:00Dance of the Wolf Man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This is the final heart thumping version of Dance of the Wolfman. More exciting than the original, this is the full version so, enjoy Wolf Man fans... Now available to download from <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/49-minutes/id644753902"><span style="color: lime;">ITunes</span></a><br />
So don't just sit there howling at the moon!... Get downloading!<br />
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-55622108985508215472012-06-03T18:25:00.002+01:002013-05-11T12:12:28.773+01:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-20517144234269050662012-07-08T00:02:00.000+01:002013-05-11T12:07:10.776+01:00Ghost Song? - A true story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Has this ever happened to you?</span></b><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the strangest things, ever, happened to me the other
day. It was a peculiar incident the like of which I have never experienced
before in my entire life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was approximately 06:10 in the morning on a grey, rainy Wednesday, (is it ever going to stop raining), and I was driving home after having just dropped my wife
off at her workplace. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Apart from thinking about the working day ahead of me, and the fact I was beginning a weeks holiday starting on the Friday, I
wasn’t thinking of anything in particular.<br />
<br />
And I certainly wasn’t thinking
about music.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, it came as a bit of a surprise when, without warning, a tune just
began playing in my head. I could hear it distinctly, almost physically, akin to listening
to music on my iPod, and it was a melody line I was sure I’d never heard before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this point, it didn’t strike me as too bizarre. I’ve had unknown
tunes pop in my head before but usually when I’m playing my guitar or keyboard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I continued driving with this rather catchy melody repeatedly
playing in my head.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I even began to muse about doing something with it. Now this is where things started getting a tad weird!<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: black;">As I was pondering and happily humming the tune, words unexpectedly
started to spill into my head. But they were not just words, they were rhyming lyrics. Four lines of
lyrics, in fact, that married so perfectly with the tune, I actually started singing
them!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>‘My Baby don’t love me no more<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>That’s what she told me as she walked out the door<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>She said she got herself a brand new plan<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>She gonna get herself a brand new man’</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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I was now more than a mite perplexed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where on earth did that all come from?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From seemingly out of nowhere I suddenly had a strange tune
and matching lyrics buzzing round my head. (I wasn't at all displeased, however. I liked the tune and I liked the lyrics.).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t work it out. The song didn’t sound familiar but I
naturally assumed it was perhaps a song I’d heard sometime in the past and only now,
for no obvious reason, I was remembering it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then, for the briefest of moments, in my mind’s eye I
saw a face. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the chubby, happy face of a black man smiling broadly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was there. And then it was gone. In an instant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, I was completely dumbfounded. It was simply beyond me. Why on earth would the face of a smiling black man suddenly and inexplicably jump into my head? This was fast becoming a truly strange series of events. Not frightening, just strange,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tune, lyrics, face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got home and temporarily put it behind me as I got ready
for work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I was on an early shift, the office was fairly empty and
quiet when I arrived so I got myself a coffee and logged on to my computer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my colleagues arrived shortly after me. We talked
about general things whilst she switched on her computer and logged on. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On a
whim, I decided to tell her of my odd experience. She was, I’m relieved to say, quite fascinated by my tale. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She asked if I could sing the song so that she could
ascertain whether or not she had heard it. So I sang it to her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She listened as I sang the 4 lines and then said she’d never
heard a song like that before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The office slowly filled up and, as the day went on, I spoke
to more friends and colleagues about my experience and sang them the song. None had ever
heard of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my colleagues jokingly said, ‘maybe the guy you saw died and never
got to finish the song and has been looking for someone to finish it’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have to admit, even though he was joking, I kind of considered it as a possibility. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Maybe that is what happened. Maybe my mind was uncluttered and open enough for the guy to come through and pass on his tune and lyrics and finally, for the briefest of moments, was able to introduce himself by showing me his face. <o:p></o:p></div>
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On the other hand, maybe the song was in me all the time
waiting to surface and it's all just coincidence. I just don’t know. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, I couldn't help but feel compelled to complete the lyrics and
record the song, <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;">So, am I working on a song given to me by a ghost? </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;">Has this ever happened to you? Something entirely unrelated to your thoughts suddenly popping into your head? Something you considered as somewhat odd, or puzzling? I'd be interested to hear your tale if you have and your thoughts on what my experience might have been.</span></div>
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I honestly have not the slightest clue what to make of it all.<br />
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But I live in hope that one day, I will!<br />
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-42982886108796800652013-03-30T17:53:00.001+00:002013-05-06T12:07:56.676+01:00The Human Race... (From 'The Gods ~ The Return of the Anunnaki')<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Renamed 'The Human Race' this thought provoking song is from Track 2 of the concept Album, The Gods - The Return of the Anunnaki. It's essentially about the Anunnaki questioning the beliefs and morals of their Human race... Warning... The latter part of the video contains some distressing content.<br />
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The single release; 'The Human Race', is now available for download from ITunes. <span style="text-align: center;"> Just click </span><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/49-minutes/id644753902" style="text-align: center;">here</a></div>
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-59645803085587359712013-01-11T17:00:00.000+00:002013-01-17T21:31:39.254+00:00THE GODS The Return of the Anunnaki - (First 18 minutes) - Franky Uk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Sumerian's called their Gods, 'Anunnaki'; <i>(those who from
heaven to earth came)</i>. The Anunnaki were our Gods also. They were the creators of us. They left the Earth 3600 years ago and, as each of those years
passed, they slowly descended into myth. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And myth they would have remained, if they
had not come back…</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This is the latest version of the first 18 minutes of this concept album which will musically and lyrically envision what might happen should the Anunnaki actually return to Earth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This is a much improved mixed version which includes an alleged vocal transmission from the Anunnaki in 2011, more sound FX/vocals/ clip tracks, and the first five minutes of the second track, (which relates to how the Anunnaki might perceive the greed, the poverty and the warlike history of the Human race. If you want to skip to the second track it starts at 13:25 with a narrated vocal track).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">A work very much in progress, there is still a long way to go before the album is complete. There are also a number of sound FX, vocal and clip tracks still to be added to the first track, as well as a few changes in some drum sequences. However, musically the first track is pretty much there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hope you enjoy... And keep checking back, or subscribe, for future updates...</span><br />
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Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1129419388528008222005-11-30T22:15:00.002+00:002012-08-06T20:00:56.357+01:00Zombies!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: georgia; font-size: 180%;"><strong>Zombies!</strong></span></div>
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One wintry night as I alone sat drinking at an inn. </div>
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A strange old man approached me and he grinned a toothless grin. </div>
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He doffed his weathered cap and he scratched his balding head. </div>
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Then sat right down beside me and in whispered tones he said, </div>
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“I’m the keeper of the graveyard, son, and I’ve a cautionary tale. </div>
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And all I ask to tell it is one single pint of ale. </div>
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It’s a tale of unspeakable ‘orror that’ll make yer blood run cold”. </div>
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So I bought the old man his pint of ale and this is <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/Old%20inn.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Old%20inn.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px;" /></a>the tale he told. </div>
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“When the church clock strikes twelve midnight<br />
‘neath a chill and moonless sky, </div>
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don’t tarry near the graveyard, son, but quickly ‘urry by. </div>
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For deep inside that boneyard, as the wind remorseless moans, </div>
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an eerie mist entwines itself around the old gravestones. </div>
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Its long grey wispy fingers caress the earthy mound </div>
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as rotting maggoty dead things stir some six foot under ground. </div>
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Zombies crawlin’ from their coffins seekin’ wretched birth. </div>
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Their bony clawin’ fingers breakin’ through the damp dark earth. </div>
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All around the graveyard the livin’ dead begin a-gatherin’, </div>
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‘ungry for choice human meat, their lipless mouths a-slaverin’. </div>
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Clothin’ torn and tattered hangin’ from their fleshless bones, </div>
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their shrivelled mouths wide open as they cry their hellish moans. </div>
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Squirmin’ worms and maggots plop from ear and sightless eye, </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLCiPBNjZLqS7zhlv6uiGcVDmwXFt3A98lbSVeDz2NsECZ-vN5v-RFaGQZxIaVY_S3pKJmSpJi1izYUg1N_mmcnktzW29dW3LckJ0d4H5YWadVlAdWM1f6oH7Lt5uqHKHcdGi/s1600/zombies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLCiPBNjZLqS7zhlv6uiGcVDmwXFt3A98lbSVeDz2NsECZ-vN5v-RFaGQZxIaVY_S3pKJmSpJi1izYUg1N_mmcnktzW29dW3LckJ0d4H5YWadVlAdWM1f6oH7Lt5uqHKHcdGi/s1600/zombies.jpg" /></a></div>
food for silent owls who watch the zombies shufflin’ by. </div>
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The scent of human drives ‘em mad and guides them on their way, </div>
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toward the graveyard gates and to the town where lives their prey. </div>
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Through the silvery eerie mist that swirls and undulates, </div>
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mindlessly they walk the path toward the graveyard gates. </div>
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So don’t tarry near the graveyard, son, that’s my advice to you, </div>
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‘cos if a zombie starts to eat you, you’ll become a zombie too!” </div>
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“Oh yeah”, I scoffed, with a grin, “if what you say is right, </div>
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how come you don't see zombies walking through the town at night? </div>
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Surely there’d be loads of them marauding through the town. </div>
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Some eating townsfolk in the street, some shuffling up and down?” </div>
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A grunt escaped his toothless mouth as the old man raised his drink. </div>
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He slowly quaffed the ale I’d bought then gave a knowing wink. </div>
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With gnarled finger on workman’s hand he rubbed a rheumy eye, </div>
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then scratched the stubble on his chin and gave this smart reply. </div>
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“As the keeper of the graveyard, son, I’ll answer well and true. </div>
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You’ll not see zombies eatin’ folk, that I promise you! </div>
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Nor see no zombies in the town a-shufflin’ about, </div>
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<span style="color: #ff6600;"><em><strong><span style="font-size: 130%;">‘cos I lock the graveyard gates each night so the zombies can’t get out!</span></strong></em></span></div>
<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/Grave%20gates.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Grave%20gates.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></div>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-85077520502458870522012-06-23T14:40:00.001+01:002012-06-23T21:42:10.435+01:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Watched the remake of Fright Night last night, 22/06/12. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Okay, I know it's been out for over a year but I'm not a lover of remakes so it always takes me a while to get round to them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The SFX were excellent and the film wasn't half bad but, (yes, there's always a but), I'm sorry to say that, much like most contemporary remakes, this 2011 version is not a patch on the 1985 original. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That said, it is simply my personal opinion so please don't take my word for it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Watch the film and make up your own mind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Who knows. your opinion might just differ.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nuff said!</span></div>
<br /></div>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1129415174564498382005-11-02T22:39:00.000+00:002012-06-23T21:13:21.329+01:00Ghosts!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: georgia; font-size: 180%;"><strong><em>Ghosts!</em> </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">“Do you believe in ghosts, young man?” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Said the old man stroking his beard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">“Oh no”, I said. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><em><strong>“Oh no!”</strong></em> He said. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">And promptly disappeared!</span><br />
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</div>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1129415478894088562008-05-26T17:09:00.000+01:002012-06-23T21:05:59.316+01:00The Darkened Stair!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: georgia; font-size: 180%;"><strong>The Darkened Stair!</strong></span></div>
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Have you ever climbed a darkened stair, no landing light to guide you. </div>
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And felt the slithering worms of fear begin to wriggle inside you. </div>
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As every fear-filled step you take, up that darkened stair. </div>
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Brings you closer to whatever might be lurking there. </div>
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Did you fear the inky landing cloaked a monster of the night. </div>
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Who watches you with blood red eyes, its teeth so sharp, so white. </div>
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Blinded in the silent dark did your heart begin to thud. </div>
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As you pictured this malignant fiend craving for your blood. </div>
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Did you fancy that it waits for you to climb the darkened stair. </div>
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To grab you and then, screaming, drag you to its filthy lair. </div>
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And there to sup upon your blood, a starter to the feast! </div>
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Devouring your body bit by bit and piece by little piece. </div>
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Halfway up that darkened stair did you chance to stop and pause. </div>
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Certain one more step would put you in those fiendish claws. </div>
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With clammy hand on banister did you peer into the gloom? </div>
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Wishing you had stayed downstairs in your well lit living room. </div>
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Did you feel the sweat of terror snaking slowly down your back. </div>
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As you fought to find the nerve to face that upstairs veil of black. </div>
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Did you think to fly downstairs then hear a voice inside scream; <strong><em>"no!"</em></strong> </div>
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For the fiend you fear that lurks above might really lurk below. </div>
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Did you finally find the courage, to climb that darkened stair. </div>
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Knowing you'd just die of fright if something waited there. </div>
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And did you make it to your bedroom, turn on the light and then. </div>
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Swear you'll never forget to change that landing light again!</div>
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</div>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1133659447303421872008-09-18T19:55:00.005+01:002012-01-20T19:36:26.067+00:00Short Horror Tales Unequalled?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/title%202.0.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/title%202.0.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
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<div align="center"></div><div align="center"><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="275" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 152px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 103px;" width="171" /></a></div><br />
</div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan.2.jpg"></a></div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan.2.jpg"></a><br />
<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan.2.jpg"></a></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #990000;">They were fab, the Pan books of Horror<br />
<em>(and I don't think there's many'd disagree)</em><br />
Edited by Herbert Van Thal, <em>(great name),</em><br />
they scared the crap out of me! </span></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #990000;"><br />
</span></span></strong></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #cc6600; font-family: georgia;">A dozen or so short stories, </span></strong><br />
<div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #cc6600; font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #cc6600; font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></span></strong></div></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #cc6600; font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan.3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="239" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/horror%20pan.3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 145px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 111px;" width="170" /></a>I'd sit in bed reading with glee,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #cc6600; font-family: georgia;">right into the early hours of morn, </span></strong><br />
<div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #cc6600; font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></span></strong></div></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #cc6600;">as they scared the crap out of me!</span> </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #cc6600;"><br />
</span></span></strong><br />
<strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: georgia;">The best thing about these fab Pan books,<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%204.0.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="248" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/horror%20pan%204.0.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 147px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 105px;" width="113" /></a></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: georgia;">is the stories were quite short you see.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: georgia;">I could get through each horror quite quickly. </span></strong></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #ff6600;">As they scared the crap out of me!</span> </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #ff6600;"><br />
</span></span></strong></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%202.3.jpg"></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></strong><br />
<div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%203.0.jpg"></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #339999; font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/horror%20pan%203.0.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="285" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/horror%20pan%203.0.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 151px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 110px;" width="174" /></a>They inspired me to write short horror tales.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #339999; font-family: georgia;">It's something I now love to do.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #339999; font-family: georgia;">And just as Pan scared the crap out of me,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"><em><span style="color: #339999;">I hope mine scare the crap out of you!</span></em> </span></strong><br />
<strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 180%;"><br />
</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 180%;">Thank you Pan! </span></strong><br />
<strong></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><i><br />
</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<b><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Now please go on and read my short horror story:</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"> 'The Short Cut'</span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;"> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></b></div></div>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1131136333742459402007-02-18T00:02:00.000+00:002007-02-18T00:03:06.398+00:00Wuffles and the Ghost of Captain Donovan<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/Me%20-%20Wuffles.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Me%20-%20Wuffles.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"> Me and Wuffles</span></strong> </span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Okay! Let me set the scene.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">It was the year The Beatles started the 'Fab' British music revolution and U.S. President John F. Kennedy was so cruelly assasinated. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I recall I was having tea round my friend's house when the news of Kennedy's murder broke. Although I was just 14 years old, it distressed me a great deal as it did the majority of the British people.</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Four years earlier, I had gotten my first ever pet dog. A cross breed, (a Heinz 57, we used to say). I called him Wuffles because he kind of made a nasal wuffling noise when he was a pup.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">And I loved him to bits. </span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">So, by 1963 Wuffles was four years old, and totally crazy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">And I do mean <em><strong>CRAZY! </strong></em></span></p></div><div align="left"><strong><em><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">His behaviour was very bizarre! For example, if a smoker member of my family dropped a lighted cigarette butt on the garden path, he would put the butt out with his paw... and then eat it! </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">And garden spiders! He acquired a taste for them and so would pluck the poor unfortunate creatures from their webs and gobble them up!</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">When we played <em><strong>'rough and tumble</strong></em>' Wuffles would slowly get more and more agressive until he finally reached the point of actually attempting to rip my throat out! And believe me he meant it!</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">The only way to stop him was to flick the end of his nose. He would have a quick sneeze and then happily and lovingly lick my face wagging his rudder furiously as if to say; "hey, I was only playing!".</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Every day I got home from school, I would take him for his regular daily drag, (yes that's what I said, <em><strong>drag!</strong>).</em> </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Wuffles was a very muscular dog and would pull on the lead so hard, he would literally drag little ol' me along, almost strangling himself in the process! But it didn't stop him.</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Nothing and nobody could stop Wuffles. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">No amount of training, cajoling, threatening, begging, bribing or pleading could stop him doing mostly what he pleased!</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">But I loved him and, I'm happy to say, he loved me too!</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Back then we lived in a rambling, roomy 3 bedroomed house with upstairs toilet and bathroom, a downstairs front room, a rear dining room, a kitchen and an outside toilet, (sometimes called the outhouse, and usually full of cobwebs and spiders), in the garden. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Attached to the dining room was a large conservatory accessed through 2 glass framed patio style doors.</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">When Wuffles first arrived as a tiny black bundle of fur, my mum coo'd and ah'd and held him and stroked him. But as time went by, they kind of drifted apart until finally, Wuffles didn't exactly see eye to eye with my mum. And vice versa.</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I s'pose, looking back on it, as he got older and stronger, his occassional aggression and odd ways worried her somewhat. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Then she wouldn't let him in the house very often, and when she did, he was only ever allowed in the dining room and kitchen, never in the front room. And so his main home became the conservatory, (a.k.a. 'Wuffles Den'), which was adequately warm and comfortable, furnished with an old overstuffed armchair, a wooden table and Wuffles blanketed basket. </span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">His favourite domain was the garden.</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyone venturing out there unannounced would be confronted by a teeth baring, wild eyed and snarling Wuffles. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">It was all a front, of course. Wuffles wouldn't hurt a fly, <em>(unless he caught one!).</em></span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now, don't get me wrong, mum loved Wuffles in her own way, she just didn't quite trust him.</span></p></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">In fact, the only person he would take some notice of was me. I was like his pet human. But I didn't mind that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now, the house we were living in had been previously owned by a Royal Naval officer by the name of Captain Donovan. </span></p></div></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">He had committed suicide by hanging himself in the rear bedroom, <em>(which was then my older sister's bedroom).</em> No-one knew why the good Captain had decided to do such a thing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Hence the house went up for sale and my parents had eventually purchased it through a mortgage agreement.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">When I was about five years old, my mum and dad got divorced. My dad moved out and after a couple of visits to see me and my sister, we never saw him again. It wasn't that he didn't love us, it was just the way it was.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">On the plus side, my mum's brother, my uncle Frank, moved in and eventually became a father figure to me and my sister. (Unbeknown to my mum, he often spoilt Wuffles, allowing him to stay in his room as often as he could).</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">For as long as I could remember, during the years we lived in the house, I, (and my sister), had regularly sensed a 'presence' of some kind hovering on that small square of the landing at the top of the stairs just outside the bathroom door.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Neither of us could put a finger on it. We just 'felt' something. And it scared us!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">So, bearing that in mind, bath time could be an absolute nightmare. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Particularly if the landing light bulb had blown! <em>(And that was quite a regular occurance).</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">So sure was I that something was waiting there, it would sometimes take me up to half an hour to pluck up the courage just to open the bathroom door! </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I would literally pace the floor, telling myself there was nothing to fear, and failing miserably.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Once open, I would feel a terrible, inexplicable dread creeping over me knowing I had to switch off the bathroom light and plunge that small square of landing into inky darkness.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">The worst part of it all was crossing that pitch black landing square to get to the stairs and down them to well lit safety! (I used to fly down the stairs two at a time!)</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">As you can no doubt imagine, going back up the stairs to bed was just as much a trial. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyway, although my dear sister and I had 'felt' this presence over the years, we hadn't actually, physically seen anything. That is until one Tuesday night in November when my friend Peter came over for a visit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I remember it was a Tuesday because that was the - once a week - night my mum, a keen 'old tyme' dancer, would go dancing with her dance partner. And I remember it was November because it was shortly after bonfire night, (a.k.a. Fireworks night; Guy Fawkes night).</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">My sister, who was now married, no longer lived with us. Her husband was in the Royal Air Force and had been posted to Cyprus where she had joined him.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">My uncle Frank was still living with us. But on that particular tuesday evening had decided to go for a drink with some friends at his local pub, 'The Lord Chichester', (or 'The Lord Chi', as he used to call it), since he reasoned that, now I was 14 years of age, I was 'big enough and ugly enough' to look after myself, for a few hours.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">So, I invited my friend Peter round for the evening.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">It was a good evening. A coal fire was burning merrily in the grate and we played Monopoly and had a few laughs. We discussed girls and watched TV. Against my mum's strict orders, I brought Wuffles in from his 'Den' into the front room for a rough and tumble.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">About 10pm, Peter said he had to go home. I put Wuffles back in his 'Den', tidied the room and then accompanied Peter along the hallway to the front door to say goodbye.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">The stairs were just behind me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Peter stood at the door chatting about the prospect of school the following morning. Suddenly he stopped talking, frowned and pointed past me towards the dark unlit square of landing at the top of the stairs .</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">"What's that?" he said at length, in a matter of fact voice!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">"What?", I said, turning to look where he was pointing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">It was then the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I felt a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Clearly, at the top of the stairs, I could see an opaque formless shape, shimmering!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I swallowed hard, as a feeling of dread encompassed me. "I - I think its a ghost, Pete". </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">As I spoke, the shape began to move, gliding toward the rear bedroom door. When it reached the door, it disappeared!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I begged Peter to stay, but he was having none of it. Obviously terrified, he just wanted to go home.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">And boy, did I ever want to go with him!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Peter left and I reluctantly closed the front door. Now terrified and alone, I wasn't sure what to do. Then I suddenly remembered I wasn't alone. Wuffles was in his Den!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">With my heart thumping hard against my chest, I kept a nervy eye on the square of landing and tiptoed along the hallway, past the stairs, toward the dining room and the conservatory. I had never been so frightened in my life!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">But worse was yet to come!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Wuffles was in his basket, strangely subdued. Normally, he would leap out of his basket at first sight of me. But this time he just looked at me with big sorrowful eyes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I was sure he was sensing something!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I quickly caught him up in my arms and carried him along the hallway past the stairs to the living room convinced that at any moment, the ghost would leap out on me and... well I didn't know what, nor cared to imagine! All I knew was that I was now very, very scared!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Once in the room, I put Wuffles down and shut the door.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Almost immediately, Wuffles began running around the room whining, sniffing the air and then the furniture. I sat in a chair by the fire, begging him to calm down and calling him over to me. I so desperately wanted him by my side!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">But he paid no heed. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I tried to concentrate on the TV programme currently being shown. But Wuffles was beginning to really unnerve me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Then, he suddenly stopped running around and looked directly at the door. He was silent and as still as a statue.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Although there was music and vocal sound emanating from the TV, the house appeared to be deathly quiet!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Wuffles was barely breathing, still eyeing the door.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">And then I saw his hackles visibly rise as a low soft growl rumbled in his throat. I'd never heard him growl like that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I called to him, gently, softly.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">And then my heart leapt into my mouth as, without warning, Wuffles flew at the door, growling ferociously and scrabbling with his claws, scratching and gouging the paintwork. I was now beside myself with terror, convinced that the ghost of Captain Donovan was right outside the door trying to get in.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Leaning against the fireplace was a long heavy metal poker. I grabbed it, stood up and rushed to the window, deciding that if anything came through that door, I would smash the window, jump through it, and run!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">By now, Wuffles was in an absolute frenzy. With deep throated warning growls, he continued to scrabble at the door. Whatever was behind that door, my brave little dog was prepared to face it and, if need be, attack it!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">The room lights started to flicker and I feared they were about to blow and plunge the room into darkness.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">And then, quite abruptly, the lights returned to normal. Wuffles stopped growling, moved away from the door and sat down, his head on one side, one ear cocked as if listening to someone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">After a short while, I called to him and to my relief, he came running over to me, his rudder wagging. It was a gesture that, to me, said everything was back to normal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Even so, I kept hold of the poker as I sat back down in the chair. Wuffles, my brave little buddy, climbed up on my lap and went to sleep.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">When my mum came in, she saw Wuffles on my lap and began to admonish me for bringing him into the front room. And when she saw the gouges in the door, she was even more annoyed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">At least she was until I told her the full story.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I could see she was visibly shocked. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">After making sure I was okay, she actually gave Wuffles a cuddle and a biscuit and, although she was still a little wary of him, she allowed him free reign of the house from that day on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I never saw the ghost of Captain Donovan again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">There is a footnote however. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">One night, again a Tuesday, I was alone in the house with Wuffles. I was feeling unaccountably tired and so decided to have an early night.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I settled Wuffles in his basket and headed off to bed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Snuggling under the covers, I switched off my bedside lamp and closed my eyes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Quite suddenly, I distinctly heard the sound of gentle rythmic breathing right next to my bed. The odd thing is, I didn't feel threatened or afraid. On the contrary, I felt soothed, very safe and warm and after several minutes, I fell asleep.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Was that the ghost of Captain Donovan? And was he trying to make amends for frightening me?</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I don't know, although I like to think so.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">All I do know is that I really did encounter the ghost of Captain Donovan... </span></p><p><em><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>And more to the point, so did Wuffles!</strong></span></em></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#6666cc;">And I dedicate this true story to the eternal<br />memory </span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#6666cc;">of my brave little buddy.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"><strong><em>WUFFLES.</em></strong></span></p><p align="left"><span style="color:#000000;"><em>Note: I have changed the names of the people in the story for obvious reasons. The only true names are; Wuffles and Captain Donovan. Oh, and 'The Lord Chichester'.</em></span></p>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-81013243916455612262006-10-30T19:34:00.000+00:002006-10-30T20:55:48.495+00:00Most Haunted - LiveAs Halloween is fast approaching I decided to watch the latest 'Most Haunted - Live' on Living TV last night.<br /><br />Wish I hadn't bothered now.<br /><br />Sad to say, this once exciting and innovative 'ghost hunting' show is beginning to look very tired, jaded and extremely predictable now.<br /><br />Just the same old same old.<br /><br />Wandering about darkened tunnels, crew members feeling sick or unwell, Yvette Fielding, (the main presenter), jumping at every noise and interpreting said noises as proof of spirit presence.<br /><br />Personally, it just doesn't work for me anymore.<br /><br />In my very humble opinion, they really need to spruce the show up somewhat with perhaps an injection of new faces and fresh ideas.<br /><br />For example, if they are going to use a ouija board to attempt contact with the spirit world, get someone in who actually knows how to use the board properly! Oh, and ask the right questions!<br /><br />I really wouldn't like to see the demise of 'Most Haunted'. But I fear that if the format continues in the same vein, I just might!Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1132960335072711402005-11-25T23:12:00.000+00:002006-10-14T18:42:25.675+01:00Out Of Body Experience - A True Story<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/oobe2.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/400/oobe2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/oobe.0.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div align="left">A few years ago, somewhere around 1998/9 I had, what I can only describe as, an ‘out of body experience’. At least, I believe it was an ‘out of body experience’. You can judge for yourselves after reading this account.<br /><br />It happened one rather nippy Saturday morning in the month of December.<br /><br />My wife works part time for a large hypermarket grocery chain and, as she can’t drive, I <em>(still)</em> take her to work every morning at 06.25. Including of course, Saturdays.<br /><br />On this particular Saturday I dropped her off at the hypermarket then returned home, arriving at approximately 06.50, to be greeted enthusiastically by my 13 year old Jack Russell dog, Pixie, <em>(a.k.a., Picky or Wicky Woo, (don’t ask!), who is sadly no longer with us)<br /></em><br />As visitors to this blog have no doubt gathered by now, I am an ardent dog lover.<br /><br />As usual, I made a total fuss of Picky, <em>(who had me wrapped around her little claw),</em> then kicked off my shoes, pulled on my carpet slippers, made myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, strolled into the living room and flopped down on the settee, <em>(couch),</em> in front of the television. Picky took my lead and flopped herself down on the rug in front of the gas fire.<br /><br />Back then, I was working from home on a personal project, <strong><em>(The Legend of Dyllbert the Pirate ©),</em></strong> a comic strip for a local newspaper which told the tale of Captain Ignatious Josiah Dyllbert, a constantly seasick 19th century Royal Naval Officer who, through no fault of his own, eventually turns to piracy. <em>(Hey, but that’s another story!)</em><br /><br />I was always several weeks ahead with the storyline so was under no pressure to work on a Saturday. <em>(I have to admit that I have always enjoyed having the weekends off).</em><br /><br />My usual Saturday morning routine was to simply loaf on the settee, usually watching a documentary on the Discovery Channel – most times history - and slowly doze off for an hour or three. Upon waking, I would make myself a tea or coffee then potter about doing odd jobs or a bit of tidying before going to pick up my wife at the end of her shift.<br /><br />It was about a quarter to eight when my eyelids slammed shut and I happily slipped into oblivion. I don’t remember dreaming, I probably did, <em>(in fact I always do),</em> but on this occasion, I really don’t recall doing so.<br /><br />Eventually, I regained consciousness, opened my eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. As normal, I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and noted that it was 09.54. I’d been asleep for over 2 hours!<br /><br />Still a little groggy, I rested my elbows on my knees and then placed my head in my hands and turned my attention to what was currently showing on the TV.<br /><br />It was a programme called, <strong><em>‘Local Heroes’</em></strong> featuring the brilliant presenter; Adam Hart Davies, <em>(who I admire a great deal).</em><br /><br />Although there was only a few minutes of the programme remaining, and despite having seen this particular episode before, I decided to sit and watch it to the end then go upstairs to my ‘study’, (a converted spare bedroom), and ‘potter about’ maybe undertaking some clean-up up work on <strong>‘Dyllbert’©.</strong><br /><br />As the programme ended, I stole a look at Picky. She was stretched contentedly out on the rug, fast asleep.<br /><br />I hauled myself to my feet and, deciding not to disturb Picky, wandered quietly out of the living room into the hallway and began ascending the stairs with my left hand on the banister.<br /><br />I’d taken about three steps up when I sensed that something was not quite right. Didn’t feel right. I couldn’t quite grasp it but the feeling stopped me dead in my tracks.<br /><br />A little perplexed, I peered up the stairs. Couldn’t see anything wrong. Everything appeared to be perfectly normal. All was in its place and precisely where it should be.<br /><br />I looked behind me, back down into the hallway. Again, everything seemed normal, nothing untoward or out of place.<br /><br />Yet I knew... felt, something was definitely... <em>weird!<br /></em><br />I endeavoured to shrug off the feeling, telling myself that I was being foolish. After all, here I was stood on the stairs in my own house in broad daylight. What could possibly be wrong.<br /><br />And then, like a thunderbolt, it hit me!<br /><br />I couldn’t feel the stairs under my slipper covered feet! It was as if I’d lost all feeling in my appendages .<br /><br />I looked down and to my horror I could plainly see why I couldn’t feel the stair. My feet were actually hovering a few inches above the step I thought I was standing on!<br /><br />For a moment or two, I was staggered! But only for a moment or two. It didn’t take a genius to realise what might be going on here! I was either undergoing an out of body experience or.... I was dead!<br /><br />I prayed it wasn’t the latter!<br /><br />To say I was panic stricken would be an understated understatement. I was honestly and truly terrified! I really didn’t like this! Not one little bit!<br /><br />Worst of all, I was at a complete loss as to what I should do about the situation. And so I remained rooted to the spot, so to speak, <em>(still hovering),</em> as I attempted to calm myself and try to think things through rationally.<br /><br />I noted I was still holding on to the banister with my left hand.<br /><br />Now, this struck me as being rather peculiar, particularly as I could feel the texture and solidness of the wood. If I really was ‘out of body’, I reasoned, how could I possibly feel anything! Shouldn’t my hand pass through the solid banister? Wasn’t I a kind of spirit person?<br /><br />I also noted that my hands, in fact everything about me, including the clothes I was wearing, were all the right colours and looked precisely as they should.<br /><br />I didn’t dwell on all this for long since I had far more pressing matters. My main priority was to get back to the living room.<br /><br />The problem was – and I know this sounds really silly now – I didn’t know just how I was supposed to do that!<br /><br />After all, I pondered, how did I get from the living room to the stairs in the first place? Did I walk, glide, float, transport, think myself there, or... what?<br /><br />Essentially, I felt a little like a baby attempting to walk for the first time.<br /><br />I had clearly managed to move from the living room to the stairs so, logically, I should be able to move back to the living room. My quandary was, how?<br /><br />“One foot in front of the other, you idiot”, I thought. “Just try putting one foot in front of the other!”<br /><br />To my surprise and delight, it worked. In a kind of abnormal hovering walk I descended the stairs and retraced my steps back to the living room.<br /><br />As I entered, Picky opened a bleary eye, raised her head and looked straight at me. It was all just so normal. It’s precisely what she did whenever I <em>(physically)</em> came into the room.<br /><br />With a completely disinterested yawn, she laid her head back down on the rug, closed her eye and went back to sleep.<br /><br />Now came the really unnerving bit!<br /><br />I looked toward the settee and saw me, lying on it! I could see me quite plainly. Eyes closed, breathing slowly but regularly.<br /><br />It was like looking at my twin. And boy, it was really bizarre.<br /><br />Thankful that I - that is my body - was quite obviously still in the land of the living, I moved over to the settee and looked down on myself wondering how the hell I was supposed to re-enter my, quite peaceful looking, body. After all, this was all unexplored territory to me!<br /><br />And then, while I was still anxiously deliberating, it just... happened.<br /><br />I felt a peculiar kind of tugging sensation around my chest area, and the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes and waking up! Happily back inside my body!<br /><br />Well, can you just imagine the relief!<br /><br />I quickly sat up, <em>(then checked to make sure I wasn’t still lying there. Well, you never know!)</em>, and looked at the clock.<br /><br />The time was 10.11. So, by my reckoning, I had been out of my body for at least 17 minutes!<br /><br />I cannot deny that I was thoroughly shaken by this experience. As far as I was aware, this had never happened to me before.<br /><br />With my mind still reeling, and my hands shaking somewhat, I made my way to the kitchen and prepared myself a mug of hot sweet tea.<br /><br />Sat back down on the settee, my hands wrapped round the hot mug, I began to think about this strange happening.<br /><br />After some deliberation I concluded, <em>(and there was no doubt in my mind),</em> that it had indeed been an ‘out of body experience’ <strong>(O.O.B.E.)</strong>. No doubt at all.<br /><br />Now I’m sure many people, especially the sceptics, would explain my O.O.B.E. away as nothing more than a lucid dream. Well okay, I’m open minded enough to admit that may possibly be the case.<br /><br />But, then again, maybe not!<br /><br />The way I look at it is this:<br /><br />All the dreams, lucid or otherwise, that I have experienced had one particular thing in common. They all had some form of distorted view of the location of my dream.<br /><br />For example, you might be lucidly dreaming that you are in, say... your kitchen.<br /><br />Everything in the kitchen would appear perfectly normal and familiar except that the cooker or fridge might be in a completely different place to where it should be. In other words, by placing the cooker or fridge in the wrong location your dream gives a distorted view of your kitchen.<br /><br />In the case of my O.O.B.E., as I indicated earlier, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. All was in its place and precisely where it should be. Nothing was distorted!<br /><br />Further evidence in undistorted normality was that when my ‘out of body self’ first ‘woke up’, I actually watched the last few minutes of the TV programme, <strong>‘Local Heroes’</strong>. I certainly didn’t dream it!<br /><br />And when I looked at the clock the time it showed was in real time.<br /><br />So, did I have an O.O.B.E?<br /><br />I think I did. I really do.<br /><br />Of course, I can’t possibly prove it. In fact, I don’t think anyone who has experienced an O.O.B.E. can offer real proof since there is no way to produce actual physical evidence.<br /><br />But then, when you get right down to it, why should I, or anyone else, have to prove it. I know it happened and I’m content with my interpretation of the experience and that, I feel, is all that really matters, don’t you think?<br /><br />So I simply ask those to whom I relate this tale to take what I say at face value. Whether they believe it or not is their rightful choice. I would certainly never argue the point.<br /><br />Some folk ask me if, given the opportunity, I would care to repeat the experience, particularly as I was – understandably I think - scared witless during my O.O.B.E.<br /><br />And my reply?<br /><br />Oh yes. I would dearly love to repeat the experience. But so far, from that day to this, I never have.<br /><br />I’ve had a few lucid, but always slightly distorted, dreams that sometimes made me think that I had. But of course, on reflection, I knew that I hadn’t.<br /><br />And, I have to say in all honesty, this has been cause for a certain amount of regret.<br /><br />Shortly after my O.O.B.E. I realised the extraordinary chance I had missed. That whilst I was ‘out of body’ I had a unique option to explore, to see what I could do or achieve and where I might travel, free of my physical body. Instead, I got scared and panicked and thus missed a truly golden opportunity. <em>(Ever wanted to kick yourself?).<br /></em><br />Ah well...<br /><br />Finally:<br /><br />There is one thing that still puzzles me though. How is it, given I was out of body and so purportedly not in a physical state, I could feel and hold on to the wooden banister? As I said before, surely my ‘spirit’ hand would have passed through it!<br /><br />If you have a suggestion or answer to this, I would honestly appreciate, and be very grateful for, your comment. <p></p></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 145px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="146" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/oobe.jpg" width="123" border="0" /> </div>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1135289003522174552005-12-22T22:03:00.000+00:002006-10-14T15:23:48.848+01:00Famous Ghost Hunting<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/df.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hey, has anyone caught ‘Dead Famous’ on Living TV?<br /><br />I am mightily impressed with this ghost hunting show. The title virtually tells you what this show is all about.<br /><br />A highly skeptical Scottish lass, Gail Porter, and American ‘sensitive’ Chris Fleming set out each week to attempt communication with the spirits of the famous folk who have passed over e.g.; John Wayne; Houdini; Lucille Ball; Charlie Chaplin; John Lennon; Buddy Holly, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean etc.<br /><br />What I like about this programme is that not only are Gail & Chris a great double act, they appear to take their task very seriously.<br /><br />And when someone guests on the show who they suspect is faking their psychic powers - as was the case of a guy who was seemingly possessed by the spirit of John Lennon and attempted to speak, (badly), in Lennon’s distinctive Liverpudlian voice - they are quite happy to expose them as fakes.<br /><br />There are some seriously spooky moments too, but not on every show, which is as it should be. Chris is pretty impressive, (at least to me he is), with his ‘sensitive psychic’ powers and Gail, though at times scared witless, really comes across as a true sceptic, difficult to convince and offering logical and thoughtful explanations regarding ghostly occurrences.<br /><br />They also use cool gadgets including a digital audio recorder to capture EVP’s (electronic voice phenomena), supposedly the voices of the dead. Also, at times, pretty impressive.<br /><br />Check it out. If you’re into ‘Most Haunted’ or ghost hunting type shows, I think you’ll really enjoy the quite unusual.... </span><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/df.0.jpg" border="0" /><br /></span></p>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1136070102789931792005-12-31T22:59:00.000+00:002006-10-14T15:20:42.263+01:00Most Haunted!Did anyone see Most Haunted the other day, (Living TV).<br /><br />It was awesome. One of the best I've seen.<br /><br />No Derek Acorah and all the better for it, (I'm sad to say.).<br /><br />The new<em>(ish)</em> medium is David Wells and he is very convincing. No dramatics as such. Just good info coupled with, what I consider to be, genuine emotion.<br /><br />And to cap it all, the series producer and Director, Karl Beattie, captured a large floating ethereal image on film!<br /><br />Proof positive of the existance of spirits/ghosts?<br /><br />Possibly.<br /><br />Anyway, I was kinda going off Most Haunted because it was becoming somewhat predictable. But on the evidence of this showing, I reckon I'll stick with it for now!Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1133717233990092672005-12-09T23:28:00.000+00:002006-10-13T21:40:21.409+01:00Life After Life?<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/400/NDE.jpg" border="0" /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/nde%20pic.jpg"></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/nde%20pic2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 108px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px" height="136" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/nde%20pic2.jpg" width="100" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/nde%20pic3.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 113px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px" height="130" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/nde%20pic3.0.jpg" width="99" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;">Is there a life after life?</span></strong> </p><p align="left">When we expire and shuffle off this mortal coil do we enter an <strong><em>'other world'</em></strong> and, like a caterpillar transmuting into a butterfly, become a different form of being? </p><p align="left">An ethereal spirit perhaps?<br /><br />Nobody knows for sure... or do they?<br /><br />Some people who have experienced near death are pretty darned sure. After all, they've allegedly taken a trip to the other side... and returned to tell the tale.<br /><br />Most who have been subjected to a near death experience (NDE) report floating along a tunnel heading toward a brilliant white light. Some see human shapes and hear voices. Many sense an overwhelming love, a feeling of calm and of well being.<br /><br />Others may actually see and communicate with loved ones who have already passed over.<br /><br />So, what is a NDE?<br /><br />Some argue that it is when the human soul/Ka leaves the physical body and enters the world of spirit while others will say it is simply a form of delirium.<br /><br />Probably the most vehement critics of NDE is the scientific/medical community.<br /><br />Their stock theory on this subject is that, as a person reaches the point of death, the body releases endorphins which causes the brain to hallucinate hence; tunnel, light, voices, well being etc.<br /><br />Now, although I personally believe that we probably do continue to exist in some form or other after death, I like to think I am very open minded and so still try to be objective and weigh up the pro's and con's, look at it from the point of view of believers and non believers.<br /><br />In this instance however, <em>(for reasons that will become clear)</em>, I have to admit that I am a tad biased where this subject is concerned and so find myself leaning more toward the explanations of the NDE folk and further away from the scientific/medical community.<br /><br />So, I’m going to kinda challenge the scientific/medical theory by relating the true tale of my good friend Dan, <em>(not his real name for obvious reasons)</em>.<br /><br />I first met Dan 15 years ago when I was working as a sound engineer/script and jingle writer in a recording studio.<br /><br />Dan was a client who had booked the studio to record voice-overs and FX for his latest project, a pilot for a children’s animated TV series.<br /><br />The moment I met him and shook his hand, I liked him. It was one of those rare but happy ‘instant likes’ .<br /><br />Constantly smiling and joking around, Dan had, <em>(and has),</em> a gob-smacking zest for life I had never before encountered. Nothing fazed him, nothing was too much trouble. He was always polite and he genuinely - and I do mean genuinely - liked everyone he met.<br /><br />I am delighted to say that from our first encounter, we got on like a house on fire. Similar tastes in most things and the same odd sense of humour I suppose.<br /><br />He had, and has, so many friends, I counted myself lucky to be one of them. And still do to this day.<br /><br />He was pleased with my sound, FX and script work and eventually asked me if I would like to get more involved with scripting his project and I gladly agreed.<br /><br />The time I spent working with Dan was a joy and as time passed we became close friends. His attitude toward others was amazing. Folk felt instantly at ease in his presence. He would speak to complete strangers like he'd known them all his life. Always praising, never criticising, forever thankful for whatever anyone did for him or on his behalf.<br /><br />He certainly opened my eyes and, I can safely and thankfully say, changed my outlook on life and altered, for the better, the way I treat and perceive others. <em>(That said, I still get irritated by people who are downright rude though! It’s so unnecessary).<br /></em><br />One evening, we were having a few drinks at his home and I asked him why he was the way he was.<br /><br />He looked at me oddly and for a moment I thought I may have asked a question he was uncomfortable with. But then he grinned, sipped his drink and began to tell me. </p><p></p><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/NDE2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p>For many years, Dan was not a nice man.<br /><br />He was what is known hereabouts as a ‘hard’ man. Muscular and with a quick temper, he was prone to be argumentative which sometimes led to physical brawls, with Dan invariably emerging as the victor.<br /><br />A hard working man who provided well for his family, he was nonetheless completely intolerant - though never violent - to his wife and children, cocky and extremely self centred.<br /><br />Dan did what Dan wanted to do when Dan wanted to do it!<br /><br />And when Dan wanted to go fishing... He did!<br /><br />A keen sea fisherman, Dan and three of his friends decided to take his boat out on a fishing trip one wet and windy Sunday morning.<br /><br />Ignoring the rain, the increasing wind and fairly heavy sea swell, they clambered into the boat and set off.<br /><br />Several miles out, they cut engines, dropped anchor, cast their lines, opened a few cans of lager and settled down to fish and have a few laughs.<br /><br />After an hour or so with no luck, the wind at virtually gale force and the rain now lashing down dampening even their fun loving spirits, the four men decided that enough was enough and they would up anchor, start the engine and head for shore.<br /><br />As they headed in, the weather took a sudden change for the worse and before they knew it, a fierce storm had developed causing the waves to become mountainous, tossing their boat around like a mere toy.<br /><br />Now seriously afraid and essentially fighting for their lives, they radioed a mayday to the coastguard who promptly raised the alarm and ordered the launching of the lifeboat.<br /><br />Soon after sending their mayday, the boat was hit side on by a giant wave, tipping the boat over and throwing the four men into the now torturous sea.<br /><br />As the storm raged about them, Dan and his three friends desperately battled to stay afloat and keep together. But the sea was too strong and as exhaustion took hold, they slowly but surely drifted apart.<br /><br />By the time the lifeboat located them, they had all drowned, and were floating lifelessly.<br /><br />The lifeboat men quickly hauled them out and immediately began resuscitation.<br /><br />Despite the valiant efforts of the truly heroic lifeboat men, Dan was the only survivor. His three friends could not be saved.<br /><br />And it was this tragic near death experience that changed his life and made him into the caring, honest and loving man he is today.<br /><br />Now here’s the thing.<br /><br />Some months later, I asked Dan if, in his drowned state, he had, <em>(as most NDE folk have),</em> seen ‘a light at the end of a tunnel’, so to speak.<br /><br />And he said that he had not. Nothing. Zilch. Not even the tiniest little spark.<br /><br />Now, what must be remembered here is that Dan had drowned. He was not breathing, his heart had stopped and he had no pulse. In other words, he was, to all intents and purposes, dead.<br /><br />So, here’s my argument.<br /><br />If, as the medical/scientific fraternity believe, endorphins are released at the point of death causing hallucinations which make the NDE person believe they have visited the other side, why didn’t Dan hallucinate!<br /><br />Surely, he should have done! He was certainly at, or even past, the point of death, of that there is no doubt.<br /><br />After all, if endorphins are the cause of the NDE then logically every person who experiences near death must, by scientific laws, have such hallucinations!<br /><br />Does it not follow therefore that as Dan and - it appears - others who have had a NDE did not actually experience anything i.e., ‘visit the other side’, then it must also follow that endorphins can’t possibly be the cause of the Near Death Experience.<br /><br />That being the case, then maybe – just maybe – NDE is a reality whereby the soul/Ka, depending perhaps on the circumstances surrounding the NDE, sometimes does and then sometimes does not leave the physical body and enter the world of spirit.<br /><br />One final thought. Although Dan did not experience ‘the light at the end of the tunnel’, he still believes in...</p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;">life after life!</span></strong></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/nde%20pic.0.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/rnli.2.jpg" border="0" />Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17549560.post-1133554778543531152005-12-03T21:31:00.000+00:002006-10-13T21:40:21.287+01:00Horror movies that frighten(ed) me!<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/title%201.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/title%201.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/title%201.jpg"></a><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/dracula.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/dracula.jpg" border="0" /></a>When I was a young 'Jack the Lad' in the mid 1960's, I was an avid cinemagoer. I loved films. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/war%20worlds.jpg"></a>Couldn't get enough of 'em. In fact, on average, I would go at least twice, sometimes three times a week!</p><p>My wife, (then my girlfriend), was - thankfully - also a lover of films and so would quite happily accompany me.</p><p>Unlike others of our tender teen age, we went to the cinema, <em>(or 'The Flicks', as we used to call them),</em> to actually watch the film. Not for us the snog in the back row, oh no. Our interest was what was being shown on the screen!</p><p>In those far off, halcien days, cinemas (unlike the uniform impersonal boxes they are today), had great character and were more like grand theatres. </p><p>With names like; 'The Essoldo'; 'The Gaumont'; 'The Odeon'; 'The Empire'; 'The Shaftesbury' <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/Forbidden%20planet.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Forbidden%20planet.jpg" border="0" /></a>and 'The Palace', these popular places of entertainment were beautifully decorated. They had crystal chandeliers hanging from wonderfully ornate ceilings. Cherubs holding lighted, (electric), torches looked down from the decorated walls and there were balconies, plush carpeting and huge blood red curtains covering the screen. Going to the cinema was a proper night out! And quite a cheap one too!</p><p>Entrance fee was usually in the region of one shilling and ninepence, (approx: 9 pence). </p><p>A hot dog was about one shilling and sixpence, (7 1/2 pence), and you could get tubs of ice cream and ice lollies for between threepence, (less than2 pence), and ninepence, (less than 4 pence).</p><p>So, as you can see, pretty cheap. </p><p>Although our taste in films was pretty diverse, it goes without saying that - much like my character, Quentin Greely, (see <strong>'The Short Cut'</strong> near the end of this blog) - our main <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/hammer.jpg"></a>passion was horror films. We just loved being frightened by spooky suspenseful movies.</p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/lee.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 71px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" height="129" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/400/lee.0.jpg" width="97" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/cushing.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 82px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 94px" height="139" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/400/cushing.jpg" width="116" border="0" /></a><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 119px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="108" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/400/hammer.0.jpg" width="151" border="0" /></p><p>Back in the 60's, the masters of the genre, in my humble opinion, were Hammer Films. Although low budget films, they had a very special quality about them. </p><p>Mainly starring, (the late, great), Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, (recently in Lord of the Rings), these films could have you on the edge of your seat with some fabulous heart stopping moments. </p><p><strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">'The Mummy'</span></strong>; <strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">'Dracula'</span></strong>; <strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">'Curse of the Werewolf'</span></strong>; <strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">'Frankenstein'</span></strong>; <strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">'</span><span style="color:#ff6600;">Jekyll and Hyde'</span></strong>; Hammer covered them all... superbly. </p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/thing.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="177" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/thing.jpg" width="122" border="0" /></a>Of course there were other makers of excellent horror films including United Artists and MGM but Hammer, I think, topped them all!</p><p>And compared with todays horror bloodfests, I have to say, on reflection, that the old, creaky horror films of my youth were far scarier. As I recall, they had far less blood and much more suspenseful scenes. </p><p>Okay, I admit I may be suffering from an acute case of nostalgia-itus here but there are honestly very few of todays horror films that scare me as much. (Maybe 'cos I'm older and wiser?)</p><p>So, are horror movies scary anymore? With a very few odd exceptions, I really don't think so.</p><p>Most are pretty formulaic these days, variations on a single theme. Again, in my humble opinion, I think they rely too much on blood and gore and special effects and usually offer a very weak plot rather than a cracking storyline. </p><p>And in most cases you virtually know whats coming and so very rarely enjoy the heart stopping 'jump' factor, which is what all good scary films are about.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/1600/war%20worlds.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/war%20worlds.0.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p>Now, I'm not saying there aren't any really good modern movies. There are some over the years that gave me a bit of a scare. <strong>'Saw'</strong> was pretty good as was <strong>'Wrong Turn'</strong>; <strong>'Texas Chainsaw Massacre'</strong>; <strong>'Constantine'</strong>; <strong>'Godsend'</strong>; <strong>'The Mummy I & II'</strong>; <strong>'Alien'</strong>; <strong>'Hide and Seek'</strong>; <strong>'Silence of the Lambs'</strong>; <strong>'Se7en'</strong>; <strong>'The Ring'</strong>; <strong>'The Sixth Sense'</strong> and a few others of that ilk.</p><p>All I'm saying is that, apart from the odd few, most of todays horror movies don't have that <strong><em>'toe curling, stomach tingling aaarrrgggghhh!'</em></strong> factor that all horror fans love. Whereas the older movies, like <strong>'The War of the Worlds'</strong>, (original version much better than Spielbergs effort), <strong>'The Thing from Another World'</strong>, (again much better than the Carpenter remake), Hitchcock's <strong>'Psycho' </strong>and <strong>'The Birds'</strong>, usually did.</p><p>To give you an idea of what I mean, let me cite an example:</p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;">'Nosferatu'<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Nosferatu.jpg" border="0" /></span></strong></p><p>Back in 1985, my then 16 year old son, a film fanatic like me, decided to watch a 1923 black and white silent horror film about the vampire Nosferatu. </p><p>Now my son, having been brought up watching colour TV didn't particularly like watching black and white films, and certainly not silent ones. Refused point blank to watch them.</p><p>But in this instance, he thought he would watch this one, just for a laugh.</p><p>I can tell you that by the end of the movie, my son was not laughing. This grainy 72 year old silent film had scared him witless and had given him his first <strong><em>'toe curling, stomach tingling aaarrrgggghhh!'</em></strong> factor. </p><p>He's loved that movie ever since!</p><p>It was the dark shadows and suspense that got to him. No blood, no gore, just a movie that allowed him to use his own imagination to scare him.</p><p>Naturally, the older films don't scare me now, and they do look very dated and somewhat creaky, but I still think they are special and love watching them.</p><p>Well that's my opinion, (which probably doesn't count for much), but, what do you think? Is there too much emphasis on the use of blood and gore and not enough on a suspenseful plot? Or do you think todays films are better and scarier than the early horror films?</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Rocky1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">P.S. One of the greatest cult horror films of all time... </span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4122/1688/320/Rocky2.0.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc6600;"><strong>... is over 30 years old. Still so fresh, it's hard to believe, isn't it!</strong></span></p>Franky Ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13998300170282946286noreply@blogger.com4