Category Archives: Horror/Supernatural

Scary, dudes!

The Museum of Improbable Things

The curator walked the new security guard through the premises. “Have you visited the Museum of Improbable Things before?” he asked.

The guard shook his head.

“Well,” the curator said, smiling, “I suppose I should take you on a quick tour through some of the exhibits, so you can get an idea what it is you’re protecting. I would recommend you come back some time during normal visiting hours to get the full experience, though. It’s all very fascinating.”

He stopped in front of a case containing a coin. “That,” he said, “As far as anyone can tell, is a regular quarter. It’s not weighted, not double-sided, nothing like that. The strange thing about it is, when you flip it, it always lands on whatever side you want it to land on.”

The guard grunted.

“Moving along,” the curator said, “Next up we have one of my favorite exhibits.” Inside the case was a copy of Led Zeppelin’s fourth album. “Playing it forward, it sounds like it should, but if you play ‘Stairway to Heaven’ backwards…”

“Let me guess,” the security guard said, “Satanic messages?”

The curator shook his head with a smile. “Not at all. If you play it backwards, you can very clearly hear ‘Glory to God in the highest, for God is great.'”

The guard stared at him.

“We don’t have enough time right now,” the curator whined, “But if you’d come back during normal visiting hours you could, of course, see the demonstration.”

“Continuing,” he said, walking to the next exhibit, “This is a VHS of ‘Return of the Jedi.’ The interesting thing about it, is that the ending is not the same. In this version, Luke turns to the Dark Side and joins Darth Vader, they kill the Emperor and take over the galaxy.”

“Never seen Star Wars,” the guard said, “But lemme ask you something, how do you know this, or that album, aren’t fakes?”

“They could be fakes,” the curator said, “They could be, that’s true. But if they’re fakes, the quality is incredible. The actors in the ending of this Star Wars, they look and sound exactly like the real actors. Of course, everyone involved with the film denies that anything like this was ever filmed, but…” the curator shrugged.

“So what the hell is it, then?” the guard asked.

The curator brightened. “That’s a very good question. Nobody really knows where the things in the museum originally came from. But it certainly shows that we live in a much stranger world than anyone thinks, eh?”

“Guess so,” the guard said.

Slumping his shoulders and returning to his “official” mode, the curator continued on. “All the exhibits in that part of the museum are pretty harmless,” he said, “Next up, in this section, we have things that are a little more dangerous.” He stopped in front of a case containing a hardbound book called Able Elba.

“What’s so dangerous about a book?” the guard asked.

“My friend,” the curator said, “Books are the most dangerous things of all! Books have resulted in more upheaval and societal change than…” catching the guard’s stony glare, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “This particular book was written by a severely mentally disabled woman. According to her caretakers, the woman is barely even literate. Apparently though, one day she just sat down and wrote this book in twelve hours straight. The remarkable thing about it, is that it’s written entirely as a palindrome. A palindrome is a word or sentence that reads the same backwards as forwards…”

“I know what a palindrome is,” the guards said. “That’s definitely improbable, but why’s it dangerous?

“Well,” the curator said, “Most people, after they read the book, they find themselves unable to speak in anything but palindromes. Apparently for the rest of their life.”

The guard raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“This is all well-documented,” the curator said defensively, “The book actually sold fairly well at first, what with its ‘inspirational’ back story and all. The publisher stopped printing it once the reports started coming in, though. It got banned from schools and libraries. In fact, it got so bad that the Department of Defense bought up as many copies as they could, burned them, and arrested the woman and her caretakers as threats to national security. You can look all this up, it was in the news.”

“I’ll have to do that,” the guard said.

They walked to the next exhibit.

“This,” the curator said somberly, “Is a camera that takes a picture of how you’ll look when you die.” He lifted what looked like a regular Polaroid camera out of the case and pointed it at the guard. “Say cheese!”

“Don’t.” the guard said, putting his hand in front of the lens.

“What’s the matter?” laughed the curator, “Afraid to know?” He glanced at his watch. “Damn it, I’ve got a dinner with the Board of Trustees across town in half an hour, I’ll have to show you the rest of the exhibits later. That OK?”

“Sure,” the guard said.

“Alright,” the curator said. “Well I’ll see you later. Don’t touch anything, I know how interested you are in this stuff!” he slapped the guard on the shoulder and dropped the camera rather unceremoniously into the case before running out the door.

The camera’s circuitry must have been pretty damaged. The bump from hitting the bottom of the case caused it to take a picture, nearly blinding the guard with its flash. After blinking for a few seconds and regaining his sight, he gingerly reached into the case and took the picture out of the camera’s slot. He shook the photo a bit as it slowly came into focus.

The photo showed him lying on the floor of the museum in a puddle of blood.

He lifted his eyes from the picture and stared into the depths of the museum where the rest of the “dangerous” exhibits lay, suddenly wishing he’d listened to more of what the curator had said.

The Ghost of First Methodist Church

Anyone in Victoria Falls “of a certain age” holds fond memories of old Pastor Jameson, who preached at Victoria Falls First Methodist Church for over 50 years. Pastor Jameson was a widower for most of his life, his wife dying of tuberculosis before they had been married for even a year. Although he never had children of his own, he spent his life caring for his congregation as if they were his own children. Indeed, Pastor Jameson’s kindness extended beyond his own congregation to include everyone in town. He was a beacon of light to the town during the Great Depression, both through his messages of hope, as well as setting up a soup kitchen to feed the hungry. During the Second World War, he personally wrote weekly letters to each of the young men serving overseas, full of inspirational and hopeful declarations of the eventual and necessary victory of good.

The image of the man who sticks in most people’s minds, however, is of his daily walk at sundown, walking home from the church. As First Methodist Church is situated near a park, there were frequently many children playing nearby as he left. To hear those who are old enough to tell it, every day without fail he waved to them and cheerfully shouted that they should head home for supper before it gets dark.

Eventually he passed away, as even the best men must, but some say that his spirit still watches over the town even today. Many children have reported seeing an old man who exactly matches the description of Pastor Jameson walking near the church. Some have even said that he’s talked to them, advising them with a friendly smile to head home for supper before it gets too dark. No adult has ever seen him, but ask almost anyone and most would tell you that they believe that he’s still there.

The Suicide Tree

Victoria Falls being the home of so many ghost stories, it stands to reason that its graveyard is an immensely popular tourist attraction. Strangely enough, its most famous occupant isn’t buried here, but is actually a tree! The so-called “Suicide Tree” stands almost in the exact center of the graveyard, a nearby headstone placed almost perfectly to allow someone to climb on it to tie a rope around the tree to hang themselves with. Local legend states that this is exactly what a young widow did on hearing the news that her husband had been killed in World War I.

It’s said that when you stand under the tree’s branches at night, you can hear the poor widow’s sobbing. However, after five teenagers were found dead, hung from the tree the morning after a full moon, the Victoria Falls Police decided to place an officer near the tree at night to dissuade any other potential suicides or vandalism, and do not allow anyone to approach it. They of course deny that you can hear sobbing under the tree. If you ask almost any of the officers though, most will admit that they’ve been too scared to try it for themselves!

Everybody Wants to See the Eyeball Kid

We were on our way to see someone Todd called the Eyeball Kid. I don’t know how he found these people. While most of us were cowering in fear at the nightmare we’d seen the world become, Todd seemed to thrive on it. It’s like Freak had only confirmed what he already knew about the world, and now he’d thrown himself full-heartedly into the weirdness.

We pulled up to an apartment complex. A pretty shitty one, too. Todd led me to room 27 and knocked on the door, which opened immediately, still on the chain.

“Who is it?” a voice called out.

“It’s me, Todd,” he said, smiling.

The door shut, then reopened, revealing a haggard-looking young woman, early twenties at most. Her sunken, tired eyes told me that she, too, was a Freak user. She glanced at me suspiciously.

“It’s alright,” Todd said. He pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket and handed them to her.

“He’s in the den,” she said, wearily, stepping back into the shadows to let us pass.

“What was that?” I hissed at Todd. “Did you just give her Freak?”

“No,” he said, “There’s no way she’ll ever take Freak again after what happened to her kid. They’re sleeping pills. She has a hard time sleeping, understandably.”

“What happened to her…” I began, then stopped, gasping. We’d entered the den. Sitting at the table was a young boy, about 6 years old. What shocked me was his eyes. They were too big for his face, bulging out so far his eyelids couldn’t even completely shut around them when he blinked.

“Hey Teddy,” Todd said, pulling a piece of paper and a box of crayons from his pocket. “It’s me, Todd. You remember me, right? Want to draw a picture for me?”

The kid nodded, grasping blindly in the air in front of him until Todd put the crayons and paper into his hands.

“Don’t worry,” Todd said, stepping back and standing next to me, “They’re fake eyes.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“His mom used Freak when she was pregnant. He was born without eyes. Just empty sockets.”

I shuddered.

“And you wouldn’t believe how expensive kid-sized glass eyes are,” Todd said, shaking his head, “You have to get ‘em custom made.”

“Why are we here, Todd?” I asked.

“Turns out Freak’s got some literary sensibilities,” he grinned bitterly. “It took the kid’s eyes, but he can see the future. And if you bring him a piece of paper and some crayons he’ll draw it for you.”

“Todd,” I said, “If he was born without eyes, how does he know what a nod means?”

“I try not to think about it,” he said.

By now, the kid had finished drawing. He waved the paper in the air to get our attention. Todd stepped forward to take it.

“Thanks, Teddy,” he said. “You can keep the crayons.”

The kid smiled at him, showing a full mouth of very sharp teeth.

Todd stepped back and glanced at the picture. I craned my neck to see, but he held it away from me.

“Come on,” he said, “What if I’m having sex in it or something?”

It would have had to have been some really messed up sex, though, because as he looked over the picture, all the color drained from Todd’s face. Wordlessly, he passed it to me, and I could immediately see why.

Hard Day to be a Cop

Angels poured out of the rip in the sky in a never-ending stream. The blinding white light shone down from the hole almost metaphorically, as if it were illuminating the spiritual darkness of the city below. And still the angels poured out of heaven, landing in heaps in the streets of Las Vegas.

And this had to happen on the day I’m assigned to take the new guy around, Officer Jarvis sighed to himself.

The kid stared at the sky, his fresh face glowing in wonder and fear.

“Has this ever happened before?” the rookie asked, gasping.

“New one on me,” Jarvis grunted.

By now people were beginning to notice the tear between heaven and earth. Some screamed, some sunk to their knees and cried, some tried to run away.

“But what does it mean?” the kid asked.

“What does it mean?” Jarvis said, surprised the kid didn’t get it. “It means I’m not going to make it home in time to watch Survivor tonight.”

Not How I Remember It (Part 3)

(If you haven’t read it, part one is here, and part two is here. For best effect, listen to the songs while reading the lyrics. You might get confused about which is the “real” version…)

I’ve had some requests as to the exact contents of the songs off the Beatles album. I’ll put up what I can remember, but I took the CD back to the store so I don’t have the lyric sheet anymore. I’m leaving off “Orange Submarine” and “All You Need is Blood” because the only changes to those songs are obvious in the title. I’m also leaving off “I Am the Walrus” because even though I remember every single word (how could I forget?), nobody ever needs to know what that one says.


There Goes the Sun
There goes the sun, there goes the sun,
and I say it’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long hot lonely summer
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
There goes the sun, there goes the sun
and I say it’s all right

Little darling, the frowns returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
There goes the sun, there goes the sun
and I say it’s all right

Sun, sun, sun, there it goes…
Sun, sun, sun, there it goes…
Sun, sun, sun, there it goes…
Sun, sun, sun, there it goe…
Sun, sun, sun, there it goes…

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly freezing
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear
There goes the sun, there goes the sun,
and I say it’s all right
It’s all right

(Don’t) Think For Yourself
I’ve got a word or two
To say about the things that you do
You’re telling all those lies
About the good things that we can have
If we close our eyes

Do what I want you to do
We’ll go where we’re going to
Don’t think for yourself
‘Cause I will be there for you

I left you far behind
The ruins of the life that you had in mind
And though you still can see
I know your mind’s made up
You’re gonna cause more misery

Do what I want you to do
We’ll go where we’re going to
Don’t think for yourself
‘Cause I will be there for you

Although your mind’s opaque
Try thinking less just for both our sakes
The future could be good
And you’ve got time to rectify
All the things that you should

Do what I want you to do
We’ll go where we’re going to
Don’t think for yourself
‘Cause I will be there for you

Do what I want you to do
We’ll go where we’re going to
Don’t think for yourself
‘Cause I will be there for you
Don’t think for yourself
‘Cause I will think for you

Penny Lane
Penny Lane there is a butcher showing photographs
Of every head he’s had the pleasure to have known
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello

On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
The little children laugh at him behind his back
But banker never learned how to laugh
And it’s pouring rain…
Very strange

Penny Lane is in my dreams and in your cries
There beneath the black and choking skies
I sit, and meanwhile back

In Penny Lane there’s a prison guard with a billyclub
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen.
He likes to keep the prison clean
Running like a machine

Penny Lane is in my dreams and in your cries
Fingers n’ fish baked into pies
In summer, meanwhile back

Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
An ugly girl is selling puppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she’s in a play
She dies today

Penny Lane the butcher serves another customer
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
Then the prison guard rushes in
From the pouring rain…
Very strange

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the black and choking skies
I sit, and meanwhile back
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the black and choking skies…
Penny Lane.

Sexy Sadie
Sexy Sadie what have you done
You made a meal of everyone
You made a meal of everyone
Sexy Sadie ooh what have you done.

Sexy Sadie you broke the rules
You mixed us up for you to eat
You mixed us up for you to eat
Sexy Sadie oooh you broke the rules.

One sunny day the world was waiting for another
She came along to burn up everyone
Sexy Sadie the greatest of them all.

Sexy Sadie how did you know
The world was waiting just for you
The world was waiting just for you
Sexy Sadie oooh how did you know.

Sexy Sadie you’ll get yours yet
However big you think you are
However big you think you are
Sexy Sadie oooh you’ll get yours yet.

We gave her everything we owned now we serve at her table
As she smiles and eats up everyone
Sexy Sadie she’s the latest and the greatest of them all.

She made a meal of everyone
Sexy Sadie.

However big you think you are
Sexy Sadie.

Film School Woes

I can’t get rid of the damn tape. Lord knows I’ve tried. I’ve thrown it in the trash only to find it on the ground the next day. I’ve buried it in the yard only to have the neighbor’s dog dig it up. I’ve thrown it in the river only for it to wash back up against the shore a few days later. I tried burning it once, and that seemed to work, but a few weeks later when I was cleaning out my fireplace I found it buried under the ashes. I went to Bakersfield one week to visit my sister and I found it in my suitcase.

Whenever I’ve shown it to anyone, they’ve just said things like “Great effects!” or “You really outdid yourself this time!” or “You ought to get a studio to look at this!” I tell them that it’s real and they just laugh.

I’ve asked Frank about it. He was there when it happened. We were doing some location scouting and thought it would be great place to shoot…all you have to do is watch the tape to see how wrong we were.

“You made the movie without me?” he frowns, pretending to be angry. “Who’d you get to help you?”

“You’re there!” I shout, “You’re in the video! You remember what happened that night!”

He just gives me a weird look.

Why is he pretending he doesn’t know what I’m talking about? Does he just not want to admit the truth about what happened? Sure, we’d all be better off if it wasn’t real, but I know it’s real…isn’t it?

Not How I Remember It (Part 2)

(If you haven’t read it, part one is here)

Well, of course I had no interest in keeping that screwed-up Beatles album, so I took it back to the store the next day. Unfortunately, because I’d already opened it, they couldn’t give me a refund, only store credit. While I was there I spotted Raiders of the Lost Ark on Blu-Ray, which was pretty exciting. It’d always been one of my favorite movies, and I hadn’t even realized it was out on Blu-Ray yet (I’ve checked since. It isn’t).

I took it home and watched it. Most of it was the same, until Indy actually got the ark. After melting the Nazis, he took the ark and used its power to turn the US into a giant fear-based theocracy with himself as the head, destroying anyone who stood against him.

At this point I didn’t even care about wasting the money. Something was wrong with that store, and I didn’t want anything from it in my house, store credit be damned. So the next morning I drove over again, and it’s not there anymore. I went to the grocery store next door and asked them what had happened to the Media Play. The girl looked at me in surprise.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked, “That place’s been closed for years! All of ‘em closed down a few years back.” Just as I’d thought…

So anyway, that’s the story behind this disc. I know it’s a little unbelievable, and I know, like I said, that Raiders of the Lost Ark isn’t on Blu-Ray, but somehow I have it…or at least some version of it. Maybe it’s a fake, but it’s exceptionally well done. If you didn’t know anything about the movie it’s completely believable that it’s real. It starts at 99 cents, I don’t care how much I get for it, I just want this thing out of my house. Happy bidding!

Feedback from winning bidder: I bought this because I thought the guy’s story was pretty creative. I was expecting it to be a stupid fake or something, but I never got to find out. As soon as I put the disc in my Blu-Ray player, my entire entertainment system caught on fire and the disc melted. A——— would not buy from again.

Not How I Remember It

Today I was over in a section of town I don’t normally visit, and I was surprised to see a Media Play there. I’d thought they’d all closed down! This one seemed perfectly fine though, the lights were all lit, the shelves were stocked, and there were plenty of customers mulling around. While there I noticed a new “Beatles Ultimate Collection” that had just come out, and since my collection of Beatles music is embarrassingly lacking I decided to pick it up.

There was something weird about the songs though. They were all a little…off. The music was right, but the lyrics were all different. “Yellow Submarine” was “Orange Submarine,” “Here Comes the Sun” was “There Goes the Sun” and “Think For Yourself” had become “(Don’t) Think For Yourself.”

I checked the box, trying to make sure this wasn’t some sort of weird cover band or something. But no, for the most part it said “Songs written by Lennon/McCarthy,” with the usual exceptions of course.

About this time it started getting bad. Instead of the friendly fireman and barber on “Penny Lane” they were singing about the violent prison guard and sadistic butcher. Next, John Lennon advised me that “All you need is blood. Blood is all you need.” “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window” was, of course, suitably disturbing, but the worst of all was “I am the Walrus.” This time around, it made sense. And trust me, it’s better if you don’t know what the words mean.

History 616

Excerpt from the journals of Robert Witherstone, archeologist.

July 12th, 1894

We made our first excavations into the structure today. Amazingly, it seems to be a library, stretching on as far as the eye can see. I don’t see how a library of this size could have been lost without any record of its existence, unless it perhaps it is the hidden hall of some ancient Indian tribe. If so, this discovery could be a breakthrough in anthropology, finally giving us a written record of the history of this continent before colonization! I have taken a few volumes back to study and attempt to decode them.

July 12th, 1894 (later)

I have made an amazing discovery — the books are in English! The first one I opened turned out to be a history of the American Revolution. Something’s not quite right about it though. The book claims the war ended at the Siege of Yorktown when George Washington ate General Cornwallis. Perhaps this is a mistranslation from an original, different work written in another language, because this can’t be what the author meant to say.

July 13th, 1894

Read more of the books in the library today. Most of the books on science seem fairly normal, but the fiction is perverse and terrible. Worst of all are the supposed “histories.” I found a volume detailing the colonization of Africa, but rather than referring to the cannibalism practiced by the savages there, it described the Europeans as cannibalizing the Africans they killed! All of this is most unsettling, and I am not sure what to think. I am normally the type of man to laugh at silly superstitions, but the fact that today is Friday the 13th does not help my unease. I will continue to examine the volumes contained here in an attempt to get to the bottom of this.

July 16, 1894

Lord have mercy. I do not know what sort of unholy place we have found, but it has to be destroyed. Today I found a Bible (if, indeed, you can call such profanity a Bible).

The familiar stories were replaced with grotesque and disturbing tales of sadistic violence, culminating in the most awful blasphemy of all. The author of this monstrosity wrote the story of the Lord’s Supper as literal rather than symbolic. Christ order his disciples to literally kill him, drink his blood, and eat him. We have set up a fire in the center of the structure and are burning all the books we can lay hands on. We have also set up explosives to collapse the cave in the morning so that nobody else can stumble on this blighted place.

July 17th, 1894

We collapsed the cave today. Jones was injured in the blast. He is conscious, but his leg is too hurt for him to walk. It is slow going having to carry him.

July 18th, 1894

Returned to the University today. No doubt it is my addled nerves still in shock from the horror I discovered, but something about the students makes me uneasy. I do not like the look in their eyes; it seems alien in some way. While they commonly use strange slang and colloquialisms with which I am not familiar, it recently seems to have gotten even stranger, so much so that I sometimes cannot even tell what they are talking about.

Doubtless I am still in shock from the events of the previous few days and this will pass.

July 19th, 1894

I spoke with Jones’ doctor today. He is a nervous man, continually licking his lips and grimacing. His manner is overbearing, his breath is terrible and his teeth are unpleasant. But I digress. In any case, he told me that Jones’ injuries are much worse than they had appeared at first. Apparently he had a great deal of internal injuries as well. They are not sure if he will pull through.

July 20th, 1894

Jones succumbed to his injuries today. The funeral arrangements are being made.

July 22nd, 1894

Jones’ funeral was today. The preacher was very strange. I’m not quite sure what he meant when he said Jones’ soul was “swallowed up” by the Lord. I did like his point that Jones would be “a part of us forever,” though.

Although there was one good thing. As strange or flippant as it might be to mention, the food at the reception afterwords was fantastic.