Staying in touch...

I like getting feedback from those that check into my blog from

time to time. You'll find some pretty good stories I think on these

pages...and multiple stories listed here on the right of your screen...

many are from both books....all stories have been published in some

shape, manner or form. 

Drop a note anytime.....I will respond in kind if you leave an

email wher I can reach you...

    reach me at:   undertakings@inbox.com 

 I kept it simple.... much like me I guess.... lol...

Halloween... almost here....a few good stories below on the

subject....don't be too scared....it's only make believe. SS 

Jimmy's nighttime visitor.....

 

It's October.....a time of year that is majical indeed...when shadows become

longer and the daylight slips by into darkness quickly. 

Take note here..anything can happen during this time of year....and young 

James discovered such shortly after retiring for the night. 

Jimmy’s Nighttime Visitor

Jimmy’s family farm was just outside of Harrisburg, and Fall was his most favorite time of year. The crisp air, the bright blue skies, and the changing leaves on the sugar maples made October magical. The house and two accompanying barns sat in the middle of about one hundred acres that was the small family farm. His dad now worked away daily and dabbled in some livestock, keeping his hand in the business but not depending on it as a living anymore. 

Surrounding the well-weathered barns was about fifty acres of corn that his dad had planted and would later harvest to help feed the young cattle through the winter. Adjacent to that, Jimmy and his mom had a beautifully-tended garden which kept them canning and freezing the abundant harvest at each summer’s end. Smack dab in the middle of the garden was the scarecrow he helped his father put  together so many months ago. Hoisted up and attached to a cross eight feet high, the figure truly was a masterpiece. 

His dad had stuffed an old work shirt and pair of jeans with golden straw, covered the figure with an old choir robe that his mom had brought home from church. On the scarecrow’s head sat an old black work hat. The scarecrow was most scary at sunset, with the sun actually setting behind the figure which stood so bravely looking over the garden and repelling any bird that would come within its shadow.

It was late afternoon and Jimmy was in the garden, picking beans and squash, smiling as he made his way on hands and knees, not wanting to miss a vegetable which was ready for his willing hands. As Jimmy worked his way down the last row for the day, he found himself in the long shadow of the scarecrow. He stopped, looked up and examined the figure that towered over him. Something, he thought, had changed. He hadn’t remembered the left arm being bent and pointing downward. He was sure his father had secured both arms straight out. Jimmy studied the figure. Its darkness had the ability to give you slight chills if you looked at it too long. A light breeze came in as Jimmy studied the figure, moving the straw fingers of the scarecrow, almost making it look lifelike. He could see why birds and other creatures would feel the need to stay away, as it was quite intimidating for sure. 

That evening just before bed, Jimmy looked out of his upstairs window that overlooked the garden and  sentinel scarecrow. It was almost dark now, and the shadows around the buildings and garden were growing in their length as the night air began to cool.

Jimmy’s eyes focused on the scarecrow, and to his amazement, the left arm was no longer bent and pointing down, but rather was back in its straight out position, matching the one on the right. Funny, thought Jimmy, maybe his dad had seen it late that day and felt a need to re-figure before the upcoming rain could do more damage.

Jimmy read a couple of comic books and turned the light out. Bedtime always came too early. He hadn’t been asleep very long when he became overwhelmed by a dream he couldn’t wake up from. He dreamt the scarecrow was at his window, climbing the flower trellis along the outside of the house which reached almost to his room. He woke in a panic, kicking his covers off, jumping out of his bed and turning on the night light. He noticed the window curtains moving in the slight breeze, a bit of light rain hitting the upper pane. 

His mother had heard him moving about in his room and came to him. She knocked twice before she entered the room.

“Jimmy, are you alright?”

“A bad dream mom, real bad. The garden scarecrow was up the trellis, outside my window.”

His mom made her way to his bed, tucked him in, and said, “You’ve got to stop reading those comics before bedtime young man. They get you all worked up, it was just a dream kiddo. But many times they can seem so real. Go back to sleep.”

She turned off the light, walked over to the room and pulled the window shut. How many times had she told him not to sleep with it open, especially if it was threatening rain?  As she turned from the window to leave the room, her bare foot stepped on something that felt foreign on the worn carpet. She reached down and picked up what felt like wet grass. There were several pieces in a clump, and she  continued out of the room to the light of the hallway. 

Opening her hand she discovered eight or ten pieces of bright yellow straw, which were dripping with an abundance of rain water.  She disposed of the straw in the waste basket and headed back to her room, thinking as she went that she should have gone to his room earlier to secure the window.

Her mind recalled the words she had spoken just minutes before: “Many times they can seem so real.” Did Jimmy have a near-visitor that night? Perhaps. It’s a definite reminder to always check your window before retiring . . . just in case.

The Pumpkin weeps........

 

from Tales Unleashed.....'tis the season for; 

The Pumpkin Weeps

“Slow down, Jimmy! Carving a pumpkin takes patience, a keen eye, and most importantly, a steady hand.”

Chad Osborn was sitting next to his son Jimmy as the eight year-old boy inserted the knife into the outer skin of the pumpkin they had just purchased a half mile down the road. The knife was not a sharp one—which was probably part of the problem—and Jimmy tried in vain to accomplish a deep cut. Chad knew that his wife would not approve of this whole plan, but under strict supervision, Chad thought Jimmy could at least do the task without taking a finger off.

“I want to make a big frown on the face, Dad.”.

“Why a frown?”

“Well,” replied Jimmy, “I can’t be too sure the pumpkin would have a smile on his face after being pulled out of his patch. That was his home, right?”

His dad chuckled. “I guess that’s right, son . . . I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

And so the two continued for the next half hour to make the face that Jimmy had envisioned, Jimmy getting his wish as he put the finishing touch on the pumpkin that made it quite sad-looking indeed.

“Can we put in on the front stoop tonight with a candle inside, dad? I’ll be careful. I promise. And I’ll watch it closely.”

“Okay” his dad said. “We’ll come out at dusk and light it up for a couple of hours before you go to bed.”

And so the plan was in place. Jimmy couldn’t wait to eat his supper, get his homework done, and prepare for the first pumpkin lighting of his young career. Wow, what a night it would be! A couple hours had passed, and Jimmy became increasingly anxious to start the night’s festivities. Jumping on his dad’s lap and knocking the newspaper from Chad’s hands, he asked, “Can we go out front and light it now dad? Can we, can we?”

“Okay son, I’ll go get some matches and we’ll see how that project of yours turned out.” His dad put down his paper, grabbed his son, and they headed out the front door with a shared mission in mind.  

Sitting on either side of the pumpkin, Jimmy and his dad examined the masterpiece they had created earlier in the day. The face wasn’t scary—it looked more sad than angry. Jimmy lifted the stem attached to the top and sat it aside as his dad struck the match and reached down inside to light the small white candle. 

Replacing the top and getting down in front of the pumpkin, Jimmy exclaimed with joy, “Dad, look at it . . . it’s perfect!”

 But Jimmy’s broad smile became a straight line as his face went from joyful to serious.

“What’s wrong, son?” his father asked.

“Dad, look at this.”

Coming around front, his father knelt beside Jimmy and saw what had changed the child’s face.  On either side of the pumpkin, and at the outer corner of each eye, several drops of water dripped down the pumpkin’s cheek. Almost a stream, if you will. “Oh that’s just condensation from inside son. Pumpkins are very wet inside you know.”

“No, dad. This pumpkin is most unhappy that we have ripped it away from its home, and it’s crying. Look at it.” Jimmy started to well up himself, his bottom lip quivering. “We have to take it back tomorrow. It has to go back.”

“Son, nobody’s going to take back a carved pumpkin . . . but we’ll try.” With that, the pair blew out the candle and retired for the evening.

The next day being Saturday, Jimmy and his father placed the pumpkin in the front seat of the station wagon and headed back down the road to the stand from which it came. The old man who operated the stand sat on a rusty old milk can and struck a match to his pipe as the pair approached him.

 “Problem?” inquired the man as Chad and Jimmy placed the carved piece at his feet.

“No, none at all,” replied Chad. “It was nice, but my son wants it returned to where it came from. Can you do that?”

“Well, I’ve never had anyone bring one back before, rather unusual, but guess I could. Can’t give your money back though.”

“Oh no, don’t expect that. Thanks so much, we’ll try and get back next year.”

“Suit yourself,” said the old man as he loaded the pumpkin into a wheelbarrow.

Sitting in the car, Chad and Jimmy reviewed the day that had just passed between them and the pumpkin.

“Do you think that pumpkin felt it when I cut it with the knife dad?”

“I don’t think so Jimmy. Many say that plants can communicate with each other, but I don’t believe that a plant can show any kind of emotion, let alone produce tears. How about an ice cream?”

 As the two drove away, they watched the old man as he moved the wheelbarrow out from behind his stand. Picking the pumpkin up and gently placing it back near another of its kind, the old man walked away with water dripping from his hands. “Boy, I don’t think I’ve ever handled one that wet,” he remarked as he dried his hands with his well-worn handkerchief.

Jimmy’s pumpkin was back home, as Jimmy had requested. Had his pumpkin produced tears after being ripped away from the fertile ground? Had it felt not only the separation, but also the knife that Jimmy had held to produce the frown that now adorned its face? Lots of questions indeed to ponder.

The sun settled two hours later on the old man’s pumpkin patch. Tonight, there would be a new face there, one with a most distinctive frown, and perhaps even a dried tear or two to reflect the moonlight that was yet to arrive.

Zodiac case finally solved?

 

This was a most interesting case in the late 1960's in and around

the San Francisco area....the Zodiac....killing and then sending 

cryptic messages to newspapers ...teasing them to identify who

he was. The New York Post today, published this story,

saying the case has been solved. For more details, to to Google 

and search Zodiac killer identified....

Zodiac Killer identified, linked to sixth murder, cold-case squad claims

By 

Joshua Rhett Miller

 

A cold-case task force claims it has identified the notorious Zodiac Killer, who terrorized Northern California in the late 1960s and taunted authorities with cryptic notes.

Investigators with the Case Breakers told Fox News that the group — led by former FBI agents and retired law enforcement officials — has identified the infamous killer as Gary Francis Poste, who died in 2018.

They also tied the infamous serial killer to a sixth murder in Southern California.

The Zodiac Killer had already been linked to five murders in 1968 and 1969 in the San Francisco area by the FBI.

During his spree, the madman sent a series of letters to local newspapers, in which he coined his nickname and threatened more slayings if they weren’t printed. Some letters included ciphers — with some puzzles still unsolved decades later.

One cipher received by the San Francisco Chronicle in 1969 was finally cracked in December, revealing a message that said he wasn’t scared of being executed if ever caught.

But years of digging led to new forensic evidence in the case, including photos from Poste’s darkroom that show scars on his forehead match scars on the sketch of the Zodiac, the team told Fox News.