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Showing posts from September, 2009

Dream Demons

“Michael… Michael it’s coming for me again.” “What is?” “The demon…” Michael was raised in a Christian fundamentalist home. Coming of age in Rashosha, WI, this was par for the course. Churches lined the streets and were as ubiquitous and homogenized as the McDonald’s and 7/11s that littered the sleepy borough. His parents enshrouded him in a world where angels as well as demons were very real and active forces on human lives. He attended a church in which the pastor would perform exorcisms regularly. People would writhe about and scream in agony as the preacher would enthusiastically thump his Bible and shout with a showman’s charisma. “Unclean spirit begone!” The parishioner would then proceed to smile in ecstasy and crumble to the ground as if the heaviest burden had been lifted from their chest. Witnessing this on a regular basis, he became used to the song and dance, and would muse at times at how silly the whole enterprise was. Time had worn down the once burning passion in his s

The Man in the House

Around three years before I was born, my family moved into this house. I’m not sure how long they were there, but I do know that something drove them out. It took a long time before my mom would tell me about things that occurred there, and even to this day I only know a handful of it all. When they first moved in, it started as small things. Picture frames tilting with no reason; plates being moved across the counter when someone would leave the kitchen and then re-enter. Things like that. And then lights would flicker. My mom told me that she would wake up in the middle of the night and hear my oldest brother telling someone to “Turn that light off, I’m trying to sleep!” and, sure enough, the light down the hall would shut off. But when my mom hung a cross on the wall, things got worse. The cross flipped upside down and was knocked off the wall every time it was put back up. Heavier things began moving of their own accord. My mom, dad, and brothers would feel someone in the room wit

The Terror of Flintwood

A yawn escaped my mouth as my truck came to a stop. “Finally…”I mumbled to myself. I had been traveling on the road for the past two hours. I realize that two hours of driving might not sound too bad, but I have always hated driving. Whenever I’m behind the wheel of a vehicle, I become incredibly paranoid and on edge; I guess everything just seems so much more dangerous and scary when you are in control of a 6,000 pound machine that is capable of killing someone in a matter of seconds if you happen to make even the slightest of errors. The soft dirt greeted my boots as I stepped out of my old pickup, before me stood a small, yet quaint, wood cabin. I let out a sigh of disappointment as I noticed that the cabin was not in the same condition as the one that had been displayed on the website. I anticipated this though; it would be stupid of me to think that I could rent a cabin that nice for such a low price. Still, I would rather have this one than the ones located closer to town, which