Writing Essential Thursday: Into the Dark (and my own ghost sighting!)

Today's Writing Essential explores darkness, fear, things that go bump in the night. Gather's writers have posted some incredible stories and poems of their dances with the devilish. I'm enjoying getting to know the Thursday Regulars in the Writing Essential. Come on over and join us!

As for today's topic of Darkness and High Strangeness, I'm no stranger to the strange. The summer I was ten we visited my grannie down south. My sisters and I played hide and seek in Aunt Stella's overgrown tomato beds and caught tadpoles in jars, let our feet dangle in the rushing creek, felt the algae and minnows and smooth rocks, let that water run over us. We ran back to the white lurching house in bare muddy feet, waited for dusk to catch fireflies, ate pickles wrapped with cheese.The last night of our Kentucky visit we didn't chase fireflies. The sky brimmed with strange green black clouds and the rains fell in torrents on the tin roof. I remember my grannie making me and my sisters hide under a table while a siren blew and blew and blew.

Tornado! Tornado!

The rain bled from the sky, my back cramped under the table, and I had to pee, oh I had to pee, rain please stop! And then I heard something small, something beautiful. It sounded like a guitar or a harp, but twangy, and fast, and I bolted from under the table to the bathroom. Sitting on the waiting folding chair next to the bathroom door sat an old man with a banjo. I could barely see him in the dark, but I could tell his eyes were closed and his mouth was raised in a lopsided grin. He picked a song, something sweet and quick, and he said in a low rumble, "Don't be worrying about the storm, dear. Just sing and it will pass. Music makes all things pass."

I ran back to the table. I forgot I had to pee. And I sang the songs I knew until the storm passed.

The next day as we packed to leave I asked my grannie who the man with the banjo was. She looked at me like I was crazy. "Ain't no one play banjo here, Birdie." She waved goodbye with her cigarette as our station wagon pulled out the drive.

My sisters told me it must have been my dead grampa. And ten years later, during a tornado spot in my life, I bought a banjo at a pawn shop and taught myself Red River Valley. I still play it today, all those songs, me and my banjo and my lopsided grin.


Please visit these wonderful featured articles. I will continue reading and featuring my favorites until Thursday melts into Friday.

Insatiable by Tracey W

Tracey's racy poem will make you sweat with desire and fear.

Bringing Ghosts Back from the Ghosttown by Cecile V.

Cecile's suspenseful story has a surprise ending. Just what IS that ghost?! 

A Case of Erotomania by Shelly M.

Brand new Gather member Shelly tells a sad and dark story of love gone wrong. Shelly has some beautiful description and dialogue and clearly knows her characters well. 

Ashes Rising by Rose W.

Rose tells the incredible story of what it was like to live in a real haunted house! Persons with weak hearts - stay away! 

My Funeral - Or Not! by dianne j

Dianne's sweet memoir piece is a study in the life of death. How do you want your loved ones to celebrate your existence? 

Next Week:
July 19th: Animalia

Have a great pet story? A shaggy dog tale? A horrific (or wonderful) story about a trip to the zoo? Anything Animal Goes!

I will post the following four weeks' themes next Thursday.
 

Birdie Jaworski writes at La Pajaro and teaches writing online at BlogHer. Her book of real-life short stories set in Northeast New Mexico is being published this year.