The House On the Corner

The real 150 year old maple in front of the corner house

The House On the Corner

The house on the corner looked like any other house during the day. The 150 year old maple stood like royalty out in the front lawn. The screened in porch looked welcoming as light flickered through the house bay window.


However, the people of this house were mysterious and rarely came out, although, we knew they did sometimes as evidence of their black Ford truck in the backyard driveway.


It was getting toward that time of year when the leaves were changing and the maple on the corner was changing a bright yellow hue.  Something else was changing too-the house!


The porch was now completely dark except for an eerie bright flashing light that was barely visible to the street.  The light that once shown through the bay window was now extinguished.  The lawn covered with fallen leaves gave way to what looked like gravestones but we could not quite be sure.


Bobby and I decided to be brave and knock on the door as tonight was Halloween and candy was to be had.
We clung to each other and walked slowly up the sidewalk.  As we got closer, screams could be heard and other revelers zoomed past us in terror. Yet, we pressed on.



We knocked on the screen door and heard a faint, "Come In".  We slowly opened the door but saw no one around.  In the dark distance we saw a finely decorated wooden table that was lit only by a flashing light.  We could barely make out a ghoulish sign that said, "CANDY" sitting in front of a covered bowl.


I told Bobby he could go first.

Bobby crept up to the table as I clung near to him.  He slowly opened the covered bowl and then in all its glory sitting around what looked like a black sphere was candy, oodles of candy!


Still looking around for signs of life and seeing none, we both decided to carefully dip our hands in the chocolaty surplus.  Just as I began to put my hand in the bowl, a bright white pair of eyes appeared in the black sphere and screamed at us, "HAPPY HALLOWEEN" and then it cackled.  It startled Bobby and I so much that we screamed and ran out the door without our prize.


As we got to the safety of the sidewalk again we warned others not to go in the house on the corner because it was spooky. Do you think they listened?


The next morning the house on the corner looked just like it always did with the big beautiful maple in the front lawn.  I turned to Bobby and asked him, "Was it all a dream?"
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Post script: This is based on a true story but written from the point of view of two children visiting the house. The house on the corner actually belongs to my parents and this is a fun thing we did one Halloween for the children on the street and surrounding areas. My Dad was the "sphere" in the story as he was sitting between the slats of the table and had his head stuck up in a cut out in a turkey pan.  Mom and I just watched from inside and told the kids to come in. It was not uncommon for 100-150 children to come to our house just to see what we would do for Halloween.


Happy Halloween all!

all rights reserved by MR...aka Naila Moon
Written October 31, 2010

The Window

photo from Bing Images (not mine)

 The Window

As I lay down on the brass bed I had inherited from my Great –Grandmother, I could feel the cool breeze coming through the open window from across the room.  I closed my eyes in an attempt to block out the last bits of sunlight still coming through the sheers. I was feeling so drained after the hectic day it had been.   I just simply wanted to rest.

My body tensed and my eyes grew heavy as my mind reeled with clouded memories.  “Could he really be gone?”  I thought to myself.  I was already missing him terribly.  The years he was in my life. The places we went. The things we did.  His smile,  his hugs, his infectious laughter.  All these things I was seeing as I was desperately trying to sleep.

I could feel the wind blowing harder in to the room and I could hear that it had begun to rain.  I thought I better get up and close the window because I did not want the carpet to get wet.

Just as I opened my eyes again, there she was, my Great-Grandmother! What was she doing here?  What did she want from me? After all, she had been dead since the 1980’s.

Surprisingly, I did not run in fear of seeing her there.  I suppose if anything, I was just in a state of shock.

She looked just like I remembered her.  Her white hair was gleaming, her large framed glasses partially on her nose and she was wearing a freshly ironed dress.  The only difference in her was she was now strong and standing erect, not in the wheel chair she was confined to before she died.

She spoke to me sweetly, “You have had a very rough day today. Everything is going to be ok with him you know?  I met him as he came into the light. All of us did. His momma,  your aunts, your friends, all of us.”

She smiled gently and continued, “I know you miss him honey, but he loves you as much now as he did two days ago.  He wanted you to know that because the only thing he could say to you was “Hi Shell”…he was just in such pain then, but he is not anymore. He is ok.  Be at peace and enjoy your life.”

I blinked for just a moment and in that very instant she was gone. 

The room was so dark now.  I moved toward the window  to finally shut it.  As I approached the panes I sighed and decided to let the breeze and yes, the rain to come in.  After all, I just got to visit with my long dead Great-Grandma Murray and even though I had just buried my Grandpa today, I knew for sure that he was ok and I would be too.

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Post script: Although, this piece is a work of fiction in some sense it isn’t.  I really did inherit a brass bed from my Great-Grandmother but it happened to not be the one I mentioned here and sadly it is now long gone.  Ironically, I have been “visited” by my Great-Grandmother Murray a couple of times since her death in the 80’s...she has also visited my Mother and a friend of mine.  She died when I was a sophomore in high school.  I know it may seem strange to some but it really is true. However, she did not visit me when my Grandpa died in 2000. His last words to me however, were indeed, “Hi Shell”…in fact that was the last words he said to anyone before he died.  Wasn’t I so lucky to have been the one?

copyright~MR aka Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf

Originally written August 11, 2008

Rewritten October 29, 2010 

The Night Cabin

Photo from Google Images (not my own)

Night Cabin

Evening fell as mystical clouds appeared.  The howl of coyotes could be heard in the distance and owls hooted to welcome the night.  The fire she had built near by raged in a blaze of glory as she hunkered by it to keep warm.

Her father had built this cabin. He even planted the trees that shaded it from the heat of the early morning sun.  However, in the glow of the moon these same trees gave such an eeriness to the place that she shivered at the sight of them.

Her aloneness at this moment was overshadowed by the sounds of crickets who called out to each other in a melodic dance.

Snap!

Her ears perked and eyes darted back and forth in to the darkness of the night.  She quickly pointed her flash light in the direction of the sound. She saw nothing but the vastness of the forest. Sighing a heavy relief she gazed back at the fire.

Snap!

There it was again! This time she jumped to her feet. She breathed heavily and the puffs of each breath could be seen.  She twirled around in a circle hoping her flashlight would catch where the sound had come from, but still she saw nothing.

Her skin pimpled with goose bumps, she crept closer to the fire. Maybe the glow of it would scare off what was near.  Suddenly, she felt as if she was not alone and then...

"Tag, your it!" yelled her young daughter, as she giggled and ran from her.

"Melissa Jean!" she yelled. "How many times have I told you not to scare me like that in the middle of the night. "

Melissa Jean hung her head in shame and began to sulk off back to the cabin, when all of a sudden she heard...

Snap!

"Tag your it!"

~MR aka Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf

Originally written May 27, 2009

Rewritten October 20, 2010 

Two Tragedies Don't Make It Right

Two Tragedies Don’t Make It Right

It was 1993 and the Mid-West had been hit with what people called the flood of the century. Everywhere one went there was water. Whole towns were under water and people needed help. The Red Cross was the answer to those needs.

People volunteered to help their fellow neighbor and many neighbors did come to the stations to help.

I was one of them.

One such volunteer had come as far as Oklahoma.  His name was Josef and was a trained EMT.  He came because he had seen on the TV the devastation that was taking place and wanted to help. So, he drove the hundreds of miles and landed himself in PO Dunk, USA.

Josef was a beautiful man. His physic exuded strength as he was tall and muscular. He had beautiful eyes that beckoned you to look in to them. His personality matched all that, for he spoke sweetly to those he met and took tender care to each and every person. He was also intellectual as he could hold a conversation about anything and everything.

Best yet, he noticed me.

We worked side by side helping the people of the flood. We handed out food, clean water and Josef helped to give tetanus shots. We talked about many things but most all about where he was from and about his family.

He told me that he had children by a previous marriage and that he was quite close to them. I found this to be wonderful because I too had children from a previous marriage and they were my world. He understood this.

He told me that he worked full time for a fire department in Oklahoma as their EMT and loved everything about it. He said he took vacation time to come to Po Dunk to help the people here for two weeks. When I met him, one of those weeks was already up.

Our romance flourished quickly. I was head over heels but he had to go back home at the end of the week. We spent some time together and he even spoke of possible marriage in the future. He gave me a ring of promise and his phone number to call him until we could be together again.

Then he went home.

I called him the very next day and I wrote him a very romantic letter. I was lonely and I wanted to be with him. On the phone he was sweet and comforting, truly a smooth talker. We talked for hours and I told him to call me the next day.

And he did.

The very next day I called the number he gave me and was hung up on. 

What?

So I called back and a woman answered. A woman! I asked if Josef was there and she replied that I was a bitch and how could I be sleeping with her husband. How could I do that to another woman and her children? How could I write a romantic letter like that?

She had read my letter?

Most of all she asked me how I could do that to my husband and my children.

What? I was totally confused.

I told her I did not know anything about Josef being married. After all he had told me he was divorced. I told her I was divorced several years and I had NOT slept with her husband. I told her I knew he had children but he told me that they lived with his ex-wife.

The whole time I was on the phone with her, I heard Josef yelling in the background, “I married, I am married. Hang up on the bitch!”

I actually ended up talking with her a long time. I asked her if Josef worked for a fire department. She told me that he hadn’t. I asked her if he was an EMT. She informed me that he was not nor never had been. In fact she informed me that he had done this before. He had left weeks at a time posing as an Army officer and a police officer.

What?

I was horrified!

 I was angry!

I was scared!

Mrs. Josef was now quite calm after I had told her what exactly really happened while he was in Po Dunk. Before I hung up with her I gave her one piece of advice and that was to divorce the bastard and take him for everything she could. She assured me they would be talking.

I got off the phone simply stunned. I decided that I needed to know if Mrs. Josef had told me the real truth. Surely, he had not posed as an EMT. Surely she had lied about that. So, I got on the phone again and called the fire department that Josef said he worked for. I spoke with the fire chief and told him my story. His reply was they had never heard of Josef and that there was no such person that worked there.

Again, I hung up the phone confused and in disbelief.  What was I going to do with this information? How could he have just come here and put all those people in jeopardy. Worse yet, how could I have been such a 

fool?

The only answer I had was to go down to the Red Cross station and speak to the head person. So I did, Red faced I told the head of Red Cross the whole sorted details. I told them I did not know what they could do but they needed to do something.

The head Red Cross person listened to me pour my heart out, listened to my total embarrassment and then replied that they already knew.

What?

As it turned out, the day or two before, they had tried to reach Josef’s chief firefighter as well to give him an accommodation for his service to the people of Po Dunk. They found out he was not employed there and never had been but they did not know he was a complete fraud until the moment I spoke with them. They were going to file charges because after all I gave the Red Cross his personal  number and address.

They told me to keep quiet and let them take care of it. They needed for this to not come out because if it had, there could be unnecessary potential law suits. The whole area would be in a panic and that was the last thing the Mid-West needed at that time.

Quiet?! I wanted to get on Oprah and tell her my story. I wanted anyone and everyone to know. However, I kept quiet. These were my neighbors. These were my people that needed help and that is why I originally volunteered to begin with. So, I received an accommodation from the Red Cross and I kept silent.

Until now.

~Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf copyright 2010

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Post script: This is a true story that happened to me. The only persons that have ever known this story up to this date were my Mother and my husband.  I changed the place and names to protect the town, my neighborhood and the people associated with this story. The only person who has a real name is the one that did this to me.  I have long since forgotten his last name, nor do I want to remember it.

You might ask why tell the story now, as my husband asked me when I was getting ready to post this. Why did I not tell then?

The answer is simple: I was a young single Mother. I was embarrassed and I truly thought the Red Cross would take care of it.  To this day I do not know if he was ever prosecuted, the Red Cross never followed up with me about it. I hope that he was!

I also write this story so that others know, there are people out there that are not kosher and to be aware. However, I also write this to let others know, that I still believe there are mostly truly good people. After all, I married one of them and I had met him on line. ;-)

Peace...Naila Moon

The Trio

They were a trio, my three precocious, younger brothers. The twins, Marcus and Jason were only a year and a half younger than me. The baby of the family, Aaron, five years younger. Aaron did not look like us for he was blond haired and blue eyed. The rest of us were dark haired and dark eyed. I used to tease him and say he was the milk man's kid, like we ever really had a milk man come to our house. I am sure my mother would have not been too happy with me if she knew I did that.

We all lived out in the country back woods of Missouri. We had neighbors but only two of the neighbors had kids and all the kids came to our back yard. Frankly it was a given they would come to our house, we had the largest lot on the street of three acres and we were always outside digging up some kind of play to do.  I personally loved to hold "school" sessions where I was the teacher and the other kids my students.  It was not uncommon to have a new club of the week either, of course I had to president. I was the oldest for gosh sakes of all the kids!

One of the things the trio and friends loved to do was play war games. I suppose this is not so surprising since they were young boys and had even more boys on the street to play with. That trio would dig holes, shoot pretend guns with their fingers or use water guns if they had them and even make tents.  They loved that game.

This was one game I did not participate in nor appreciate. In fact it was not so unusual for me to report to my mother that the trio were at it again. It wasn't that I was a tattle tale and wanted revenge on my brothers. No, it was the mere fact that they had stolen from me.

My dear brothers had a habit of sneaking in to my room and stealing my knock off Barbie dolls. As soon as they had acquired them from my room, they were outside using every little piece of my dolls as war weapons.  Oh yes, Barbie heads and arms often went flying through the air as their imaginary war was taking place. Barbie bodies were often turned into guns, tanks or all other sorts of military equipment. Barbie clothes became miniature tents or flags. I am not sure but I imagine even small fires were made out of Barbie hair.

My mother would come to rescue my precious Barbies only to find that they had essentially disintegrated. One could only imagine, at that point, a truce had been signed and the neighbor boys retreated home as the trio were rushed back inside to their own bunkers.  My mother being top general and a five star one at that put up with no nonsense. Eventually she would take me to our local store and buy me a new doll.  I never had a real Barbie, but many cheap ones, thanks to the trio .

The trio and I no longer live in the back woods of Missouri but I would love to go visit our old home some day.  I would probably bring a shovel because I am sure to this day that if I dug up those three acres of land, I would find Barbie body parts all over.

~Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf