Time for your chance to WIN and help a GREAT cause! My grandpa, Marine Lt. Col. Donald D Fereday died on Independence Day, July 4, 2003, forever haunted by the scenes he encountered while serving in Korea. Many of our men and women who serve become physically and mentally wounded everyday protecting our freedoms. Ahoy Fellow Fathomers. By now, you know I enjoy creating fictional worlds readers will identify with. Although I hope readers escape with my words, I also entwine helpful storylines that might help make a difference. However, sometimes events and issues in our realm are not always comfortable subjects-I tackle them in some manner anyway. Today's blog is part of a special blog hop to raise money for the Wounded Warriors project. At minimum, the group of writers involved in this opportunity will raise $600 for their organization. If you would like to see how more you can help, please click this link Wounded Warriors . I will donate ...
Comments
I told them they were being stupid but went with them anyway. I'd always wanted to get up close and personal with the witch. We trek all the way across town. It was only a mile and a half. Did I mention the town was small? We stood outside her rickety old gate trying to gather enough courage to knock on her door. After talking ourselves in and out of ringing her bell a hundred times we walked up her cracked and crumbling walkway, climbed her front steps, and knocked.
She didn't answer for a while. When she did answer she threw the door open. Her house was lit inside by only candles. She wore an old Victorian era dress with a black veil over her face. In her hand she held a dagger with an ornate handle. The blade was clean but her hand was dripping blood. Like she'd cut it, deep. I heard a baby (I swear to God I heard a baby)cry in the background and she laughs a witches cackle. Scared shitless my brothers and I run for our freaking lives.
She died that night. At least I think she died that night. Her body wasn't found for a couple weeks. My parents bought her big ancient house. They wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast. When we went in to clean it out there were all these weird jars of stuff. Herbs, bugs, one really big jar held a goat with two heads. I am not freaking kidding. The strangest thing we found was a set of baby clothes laid out on the coffee table. This lady didn't have any living relatives so the clothes didn't belong to her grandkid or anything. And the clothes were new. Not old. Not like something she might have saved from a child no one knew anything about.
It gets weirder. My dad completely gutted her house. Inside the walls we found really old books written in Latin. They had diagrams of pentagrams, odd runic symbols, and drawings of people sacrificing animals and people. You know, creepy shit. He also found bones inside her walls. Finding all the other crap in her house he turned the bones over to the police. They were all animal. Chickens, goats, and cats mostly. After renovating the house my parents didn't really have the stomach to own it. They sold it.
Now I'm not saying she sacrificed a baby that Halloween, but it would not surprise me if she did. Creepy does not begin to describe the feeling of this woman's house.