Thursday, March 31, 2005

Little Red

Once upon a time in a kingdom far, far away lived a little girl named Little Red. She was called Little Red because she was the only red haired girl in the kingdom.

One day Little Red went out of the kingdom with a basket of goodies that she took everywhere she went to meet up with her aunty who lived just along the shore out of the kingdom. While she was on her way to her Aunty's place, Little Red stumbled on to a big ugly troll.
"Hello little girl, where are you going?" asked the troll in charming voice.
Little Red replied "I'm going to visit my Aunty on the beach shore with my basket of goodies that I bring everywhere."
"Then go ahead, I'm not going to stop you" said the troll.

So Little Red skipped ahead picking up flowers along the way. The moment Little Red left the troll's stomach began to growl and he realised he had not eaten in two weeks.
"I gotta have the basket.!" the troll yelled, as he quickly dashed through a cave that led to the beach shore. The troll got to Little Red's Aunty's house before Little Red did and knocked on the door. The Aunty said "Who is it?" in an old an brittle voice. The troll got out a club, smashed the door open and replied "Troll" as he smacked her over the head with the club. The troll dragged the Aunty into her bed, covered her up and fixed the door.

Little Red came knocking on the door about five minutes later. The troll called, in a sweet but ugly tone "come in..." Little Red went in and walked up to her Aunty who was in bed. As she did this the troll snuck up from behind and clubbed her over the head, took the basket of goodies and ran off.

It was happy ever after for the troll.

by Joshua A (Year 7 LaTrobe Secondary College)

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Story Starter Challange...not for the weak of Heart!

Every Friday on my way to school I use to listen to a radio show on my radio that was shaped like a Coca Cola bottle.

Okay, this was in 1977, that sort of thing was cool back then.

Anyway they told news stories and you had to determine if they were true or false.

The Tag Line was, " that the truth is always stranger then fiction, because fiction has to make sense."
This is a true story that I found creepy. How would you fictionalize it? How would you make Sense out of this?
Just a challenge from the Chamber of Horrors...

Body Found In Empty Mansion
March 25, 2005
By Joe Furia

SNOHOMISH COUNTY - It's a $1 million home and it's vacant -- except for the body found inside.
Investigators in Snohomish County are trying to determine why they found a man dead in an empty house.
Police aren't saying much about the man. They won't comment on how he died, when he died, or even why he was in an empty house in the first place.
They did tell KOMO 4 News they don't think he was a homeless man looking for a place to stay.
We asked if they have any thoughts on what the man was doing there. "No, we really haven't established his relationship to the house or why he would be here at this time, because as you know the house is vacant," said Deputy Rich Niebusch with the Snohomish County Sheriff's Department.
The waterfront home has been vacant for the past year. It's on the market for $1.2 million. One of the listing agents told KOMO 4 News she stopped by the house less than 24 hours before the body was found.
"I just thought 'well, I'll just run by there.' I got out of my car, got to the first stair and then turned around and went back to my car because I had a really eerie feeling," said Carol Falleen. "There were no lights on, it was very dark, and it looked like everything was okay."
Detectives tell us a man who stopped by the house Friday afternoon -- and again they won't say why -- spotted the body and called police.
Neighbors say there have been numerous break-ins and parties at the house over the past year because it is empty, secluded and has a great view of Puget Sound. But news of a murder really caught the folks who live here off guard.
"It just seems a little odd down here, I mean a murder," said neighbor Jim Beirne. "A party or a car accident on the hill happens all of the time. But a murder, that's a little different."
There is a real estate lock box on the outside of the house with a key to the front door, but investigators aren't saying whether the key was used or the house was broken into.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

The Shewolf's Real Story!

The Shewolf

( The Real Story! )

In the mountains of Auvergne, a story dating back to 1588 was told of a royal female werewolf. In the story the nobleman was gazing out of his window and upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt.

( So far, that sounds about right. That's about all my husband the Nobleman did in those days...he believed one of our station should never do anything, that's what
the help was for. Fetch this fetch that turn your head and cough for me, ask about a hunt instead of riding out and taking a look for himself. )

While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf.

(That was me, only at the time I wasn't a wolf. I mean, think about it, daylight no full moon. I was out for a ride alone and the hunter? He had Roman Fingers and Russian Hands...if you get my drift.)

In the ensuing struggle, he severed one of the wolf's paws and placed it in his pouch.

(Sicko, when he couldn't get me to submit he cut off my hand and tried to take my head. But even in human form I'm not exactly without defenses. In fact, had I not lost my hand I could've snapped his neck.)

Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all, in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring.

(He never had my 'paw' but he had to explain what he thought were my poor hacked up remains...and remember there was always the chance someone say us talking in the Woods that day. I always rode on well traveled paths. Safety first you know.)

The nobleman recognized the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off. Upon questioning his wife she finally admitted to being the wolf the hunter had encountered in the forest and...

( By the time he found me in the kitchen the sun was starting to set and I was going to was a full moon that night. So I told him, indeed I was a Werewolf but I wasn't a wolf that afternoon and that I hadn't attacked the Hunter. He attacked me first.

Now my husband was a spoiled rich pampered Nobleman. But he wasn't a bad spoiled rich pampered Nobleman. As far as they go, he was an upright guy. He asked me, after seeing my stump and cut neck, would I remember the Hunter? Could I find him if I wanted to?

Oh yes, I told him, after all, we Werewolves travel in packs. If I couldn't find him one of the others could. But all the same, the Hunter and I would meet again.

My husband smiled...smirked really and kissed my cheek. Then he told me to have a pleasant evening and that he would see me in the morning.

That's my story...the real story of the Shewolf of Auvergne )

Monday, March 21, 2005

Werewolf Story

In the mountains of Auvergne, a story dating back to 1588 was told of a royal female werewolf. In the story the nobleman was gazing out of his window and upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt.

While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf. In the ensuing struggle, he severed one of the wolf's paws and placed it in his pouch. Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all; in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring.

The nobleman recognised the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off. Upon questioning his wife she finally admitted to being the wolf the hunter had encountered in the forest and by her confession.
The nobleman looked at his wife stunned. She began to say how sorry she was for not telling him all this time, but he stopped her from speaking. He got up and walked outside to get some fresh air. It was night time and the light from the full moon was shining down amongst the valley. The nobleman paced back and forward trying to get his head around what his wife had just told him.

When he had finally settled down, he called his wife outside. She argued with him saying that she couldn’t go outside because she would change into her monstrous self.

The nobleman walked inside and grabbed his wife by her non-severed arm. He dragged her outside and instantly she began unleashing her rage upon her husband. Hair stared sprouting from her hands and face. Her shoes burst apart releasing her huge paws. The nobleman fell back in fear. He crawled out of view from his horrific wife. She had fully transformed into her other self and her husband was watching her every move from behind a distant hedge.

The werewolf moved over to her husband. She leant over him and held out her paw. He reluctantly held her hand and she helped him up. He stared into her eyes and saw that she was nothing but his loving and caring wife behind a figure that she transformed into once a month.

He began to say that he was sorry for thinking that she was some kind of beast. All of a sudden the werewolf drove her arm straight into her husbands head with a tremendous amount of force. He fell to the ground unconscious. She bent down and pulled him down a dark cave. When they reached the bottom of the cave, she snapped his neck and he lay there motionless.

She went back up to the house and when inside, transformed back to her normal self. She went back to the kitchen and put a pot of boiling water on the stove. She opened one of the cupboards and brought out a severed hand. She placed it in the pot and after a couple of minutes, got it out and started eating it.

A few years later, the villagers of the little town discovered that the werewolf had murdered a great number of people only to sever their hands and eat them. When the hunter discovered that this werewolf that he had stumbled upon in the forest that day was that exact werewolf that killed for human hands he severed her hand as pay back.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Big Bad Werewolf Challenge

I have been working on a Werewolf Project with the students at school and they are loving the horror and gore.

If you all check this Project you will find the artwork of the Girlie Werewolf Project. Now being a thinker I thought that the next bunch of mini stashes I could send out to artists would include a glove - when I can source some lovely old gloves - and we could have another challenge going.

The challenge would be to depict the noblewoman's hand or the hand of some other victim of the werewolf. Alternatively people can make wolf masks or depict some other element of the story.

Alternatively you could join a colouring competition and post your responses here on the Art Blogger.


Any takers? If so let me know and I will begin sourcing gloves and sending mini stashes to people. As with the Footprint they will come back to provide inspiration for students ranging in age from five to eighteen.

image courtesy of Timberwolf

Thursday, March 17, 2005

To Grandmother's House

Her name is Radu and she lives down the street from my Grandmother's house.

Radu and my Grandmother are friends and have been friends for over 50 years. They've traveled together, gone shopping together, done all those old lady things together like drink tea and take in the odd bingo game together.

And while my Grandmother has aged gracefully her friend Radu has not. In fact, Radu has not aged at all.

Recently her hair has turned gray, and there are traces of wrinkles around her eyes and near her mouth, across her forehead. Laugh lines I think they're called. I'm pretty sure that like the streaks of gray the lines are cosmetic.

Convincing but cosmetic.

Radu is patient and kind and sometimes when she thinks no one is looking her eyes flame orange. It's enough to give you a heart attack, but once you get use to it, it's not so bad. Because freaky eyes or not, she's Radu.

She's Radu who can do magic tricks, can guess what the faces on cards are before you turn them over, who sings loudest of all even though she has an awful voice and is tone deaf as well.

My Grandmother's best friend Radu who I've known for all my life.

Last Halloween though, I met the real Radu.

I was walking to my Grandmother's house instead of driving because it was a pretty Autumn evening, there were wonderful Halloween decorations in almost every yard and the children in their costumes racing around the streets was magical, fun.

It made me wish I was young enough to Trick or Treat again.

It was about a block away from my Grandmother's house that I noticed the figure in the black coat. The coat was long and had silver buttons down the front. The person wearing it had long black hair and was powerfully built with wide shoulders and because the jacket was form fitting I could see the arms were muscular too.

Was it a light from a passing car or maybe the light of the bright Harvest Moon when the clouds moved away from it’s face that cast enough light for me to see a set of flaming orange golden eyes from across the road? I don't know.

But I saw them.

They were Radu’ s eyes, but the figure, it was all wrong. Radu was an average sized woman with shoulder length hair. The person I saw looked like they worked out, that they were built as the saying goes, to inflict some serious hurt.

It wasn't her, I told myself because those eyes I took for Radu’ s lacked her humor.

I turned away and started to walk. From across the road the figure dropped back but I could hear it walk across dried fallen leaves.

Then the air turned cold and I could hear what I thought was something from behind me taking a long deep breath. Then my head was pulled back and the sky disappeared behind a terrible face. It was a blank pale face, its eyes were black and empty and it had far to many teeth.

Horrible pointed teeth.

And before I could cry out, strike out something knocked me aside and it was on my attacker. There was a growl, tearing sounds and both figures seemed to be embracing. Then one stood and the other fell to the ground.

When I stood I was looking at the figure in the black coat with the silver buttons.

Its face was heavy, the jaw was heavy, the brow bone was heavy and close up the figure was even more imposing then it was from across the road.

It was Radu of course and if I were to say what her now changed face reminded me of it was animal like...wolf like almost.

She couldn't speak well; it was as if she weren't use to talking. " You have to watch out for those Vampires Sarah. They're nasty things. "

Then she reached down for the dead man and nodded up towards my Grandmother's house. " Time for you to go, time for me to eat. Yes? "

All I could think to say was, " Happy Halloween Radu. "

She tossed the figure over her should and walked away from me, towards the cemetery.

Singing... off key of course.


As light turns to dusk, hunters from above and beyond, come together in the forest. Armed and loaded, looking for those blasted dingo’s that have destroyed and traumatised live stock for the past six months. The sharp barking of tracker dogs set out a cry of gun fire. When silence fell, they had realised that they were in the wrong section of the forest. For one hour they have been firing into space, wasting time and effort. After one more hour, they packed it up and drove away, except for one. A local hunter an outcast to the community, continued on his search, hoping to gain local pride and respect for ending the carnivores rain of terror.

An hour goes past, still no sight of the malicious carnivore. His dog looked restless grasping for air. The night air grows cold and unforgiving. The hunter decides to turn back, and follow the others lead. Were the hunters in the wrong area of the forest? Or was it something bigger then expected?
The hunter walks down the path, hearing howling noises getting closer and closer. The hairs on the back of his neck have stood up, as silence fall. He decides to run the rest of the way, and shortly trips over. He falls to the ground hard, with something large breaking his fall. A smooth liquid covered his hands, still unaware of what lay beneath him. He turned on his torch and let out a terrifying scream. The body of a local hunter, ripped apart, with a hand missing. He gets up and tried to run but something large is standing on the path. He stops, the figure stood there without a movement. The figure lifts its arms up with a spine tingling roar. The hunter turns around, and starts to run, but to his amazement the figure is in front of him once more. He turns around to find that the figure has gone. He turns around again, the figure is in his face, snarling, breathing heavily. He turns the torch on in its face, the Jaws of Life open up, the torch drops, blood covered on the dirt path.

That was six months ago, the mysterious creature still traumatises the town and stock. Since that first siting sxin months ago the death toll has risen to ten. The forest has been closed off to the community until the mysterious creature is found and removed.

My name is Joseph Bloggs; my father went missing in 1962 after entering the forest. It is January 6th 1963, exactly six months to the day. I wondered whether I’d ever see my dad again. What had become of him remains a mystery, but the dangers that lie within the trees is an even greater mystery and sets the stage for an adventure. My bags are packed; I’m going into the forest, with a grave fear of not returning alive.

As I walk through the peaceful valley leading to the forest, I pull out my machete and tie it to my belt. I hope I do not have to use it, but for my own protection I’ll keep it by my side. I reach the forest fence, not able to jig the lock. I decided to jump the fence. Once I was over, I was pulled down by someone, or something. It was the local sheriff, not looking too pleased at my stunt.
“What are you doing here boy? You know this area is off limits”
I watch on with no reply hoping he will just knick off, so I can get on with the job I came here to do.
“So…answer me!!!!”
I try to get up and run, but he grabbed me by the arm, when suddenly something launches from the trees.

Oh my god it’s really happening, the thing has taken the sheriff hostage. I reach for my machete, but it was too late. The animal snapped the sheriff’s neck, like it was a bread roll. I start taking small steps back but I’m trapped. I am right against the fence line with the creature advancing. Sirens sound and brakes screech, gun shots were released. The creature scattered into the forest dodging what was left of the shots. I fell to the ground, with a sigh of relief, as uniformed men approached me. I blacked out, but I felt the weight of floor as I was dragged into a vehicle.

I wake up in a cell, my hands tied back behind the seat. A cold room, with a large mirror on the side of it. The door opens, two men with suits and black glasses walk in. My heart starts to race as they approach me; one of them pulls out a knife, and cuts the rope around my hands.

“What do you want with me?” I asked, silence continued its agonising toll.
“You have seen something you were not meant to see”.
What is this guy on about, everyone knows about this creature.
“It is not wise to throw away your life so foolishly Mr Bloggs”.
I remained still not moving a muscle. The intimidation is taking its toll on my body, and I start to tremble.
“Only you can see what is beyond the carnivore’s terror, you know who or what it is deep inside, but you refuse to believe it”.
I really don’t know what this guy is on about; this must be some kind of joke or something.
“Forget your conquest Mr Bloggs, I believe the truth behind what you want to see, is fear”.
I cop a blow to the head, darkness once again.

I walk outside in a misty valley; it must be early morning because the mist is so terribly thick.
I turn around, no ones around, that same voice calling my name said it again behind me, I turn once more, and no one is there. Shadows engulf my surroundings, the voice repeats itself I turn, and it does it again this time its close. I turn once more; my father is less then an inch away. I fall backwards to the ground.
“Father, you’re alive” he does not reply.
Suddenly his face changes into the face of my attacker. It lets out a terrifying laugh it leaps I scream.I wake up in my bed I felt my body, no injuries. What a dream.

I can’t help wonder if that’s what the man in the suit meant? Is my father a monster? I walk to the window and stare at the misty rained out paddock. I close my eyes for a brief second to deal with what I have just seen. I open my eyes, I see my father in the distance, standing in the paddock. I shake my head and look out once more. I see the monster, carrying something in its claw. Oh my god it’s a head! Whose is it? The creature turns away and walks towards the forest. I ran out the door with my machete, and ran into the fog. I lost it, I hear chains rattling. I am not alone, but I do not fear death. I shout to the creature
‘Show yourself! Where is my father? Show yourself!'
A spine tingling roar, sounds, it felt like I just jumped out of my skin. I turn and hear the creatures laugh once more. Suddenly, it disappears and moved swiftly in front of me, as if teleported itself. My stomach stung as blood dripped to the ground. I was slashed. The creature returned to its original position ‘you will die!!!’ it shouted as it teleported itself again. Suddenly a shot was fired; the creature fell on top of me, dead. The man in the black suit with his shot gun had finished the job off for me.

I roll the creature over and a terrifying site is what I saw. My father, eyes closed, without a movement. A drip fell from my eye, as my body filled with adrenalin. I got up and ran towards the man with the rifle and threw punches wildly. Bang, one more shot was fired.
‘The gene pool Mr Bloggs, runs in the family, you would have soon became a carnivore”. I fall to my knees this is the end. I fall face first into the grass without any resistance.

This was my brother’s story, my name is James Bloggs, and I’ve documented my brother’s journals. I was there in the distance when my brother was shot. I have been living on the run for the past 18 years hiding away, making sure I live to tell this tale. The town will pay for the death of my brother.

As I look into the mirror, a familiar snarling face starts to appear. I walk out the door, with a terrifying roar; I will have my revenge on this town. This is my story, the man in the suit was right, when he spoke about looking beyond the carnivore’s terror, and finding out the truth. Well they have eliminated part of the truth, forgetting I am the last sibling.

No more wolfy business...

Twas the story of a nobleman who was gazing out of his window. Upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt. While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf. “Alas! A wolf”, exclaimed the hunter. The wolf made a snarling sound and made a break for freedom. The hunter soon gave chase. The wolf soon tired out, and slowed to a walking pace. The hunter dived on the beast in an attempt to rid the forest of such a horrible creature. In the ensuing struggle, the hunter severed one of the wolf's paws with his BBQ utensil kit, and placed it in his duffle bag, in a weird sadistic ritual. The hunter looked forward to consuming the wolfy prize, with cheese and crackers upon returning to his hired BBQ facility pre-ordered at the local roller ring. Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, in readiness for the consumption, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all; in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a masculine hand bearing an elegant gold ring. The nobleman recognised the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his boyfriend. When he came upon him in the garage, next to the blueprints and designs of the contraption he had called “the wheel” on the walls, he found him nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that his hand had been cut off. Upon questioning his boyfriend, he finally admitted to being the wolf the hunter had encountered in the forest.

“Brutus, how come you didn’t tell me that you were a wolf?”
“I did meet you at the gay bar for wolves five years ago!” exclaimed Brutus, “Didn’t you twig then?”
"I just thought that you had a lot of body hair!” the nobleman stated abruptly.
"Clearly you were wrong, young nobleman", stated Brutus.
The nobleman, stood stunned for several seconds.
“I can’t believe this is happening to me”, he thought over and over in his head.
Brutus was bleeding heavily from the stump of the wound.
“This is hurting badly”, he said “is there anything we can do to fix this problem?”
“Nope, all we can do is eat it. This was my intention when I cut it off your arm in the first place”.
Brutus screamed.
“Nooooooooo” he exclaimed.
“Alright, alright, we’ll sew it back on”, said the nobleman. “Come over to the sewing machine.”

It took over an hour for the nobleman to attach the severed arm to Brutus’s bloody stump. The duo was exhausted. Especially Brutus. He had spent most of the time screaming at the top of his lungs. The pain was gargantuan, but the ordeal was finally over.

“Phew”, said Brutus. “Thanks for that”
“You’re welcome” stated the nobleman, “I hope this doesn’t come between us”.
“Nah, you’re alright, it was my fault. I’ll never morph into a wolf ever again” Brutus said softly.
“Good, no more wolfy business”

And they lived happily ever after…. THE END...

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

An Unseen Visitor

I'll be the first one to admit I have a very active imagination, and sometimes I inadvertently let it run away with me. It's gotten very good at playing tricks on my eyes and ears. Especially when I'm in bed at night or in my room alone during the day. I still don't know if the events that inspired this piece are real or imagined. If they are real, they open up quite a few interesting possibilities. If they're my imagination, well, it's definitely alive and thriving. Either that...or I'm going crazy.

An Unseen Visitor
Something skitters past your peripheral vision.

What was that?

You look, but there's nothing there.

Could it have been your imagination...or something more? Something...only the open mind can see? Possibilities of what it might be occupy your mind as you give the room one last sweep, searching even the slight shadows created by the phosphorescent lights overhead. Nothing. You're alone. You dismiss the notion of seeing something and soon forget about it. Until the next time.
* * * * * * * * * *
Evening falls quietly and gracefully into shadows. Pleasant thoughts or memories fill your head as you sit in front of the computer. A vacant smile plays about your lips while you're lost in a reverie. Suddenly, you sense you're not alone. The little hairs on the back of your neck rise, your heartbeat picks up. Thump, thump, thump, thump. Curiosity though, has you looking to the right.

There's nothing but empty space. No one lurks in your doorway. Yet, your feeling remains.

You stare at the spot where you first thought you sensed a presence. Though your eyes tell you otherwise, you're not quite sure you're alone anymore. But how could that be? Nothing is there! Or is something...someone...there after all, unseen? The air is thick with speculation and some undefinable element. Your thoughts, scattered from their previous enjoyment, now race and your body tenses.

Don't be stupid, you tell yourself. It's just your overactive imagination at work. You want to believe something or someone is there. Just so you can experience an other worldly event.

But try as you might, you can't totally dismiss the feeling of being watched. As you wait with bated breath for some unknown thing to happen, you become aware of no malevolence in the air. Only...a curiosity and mischievousness. A visiting spirit perhaps? But who? Once again your mind races, looking for answers. A past owner of the house? A dead relative you were close to? Or a passing spirit? Or is it really just your imagination after all? The guesses could go on.

As you ponder who your unseen guest might be, you sense them coming towards you in a rush. Gasping in surprise, you recoil expecting to feel something at contact. When nothing happens you open your hastily shut eyes and look about. Except for you the room is empty. Your earlier feeling is gone. Releasing a pent up breath you slowly relax. Whoever it was disappeared when they came upon you. For several moments you just sit, thinking and taking it in. You're reminded of another earlier incident months before, when you thought you saw something but was unsure.

Questions bloom in your fertile imagination. Was that really real then too? Surely I couldn't have imagined two similiar incidents? Am I going nuts, or can I sometimes feel what's on a higher plane? The possibility that you can excites you and brings a smile to your face, yet at the same time fills you with an eerieness.

There are many inexplicable things in our universe. The Loch Ness Monster. Leprechauns and fairies. Ghosts. We hardly see them for cynical minds and lost innocence. But if you're lucky, or of an open mind you just might sense or get a glimpse of another world...

You hear something on the wind. Was that...laughter?

** Originally written on 09-15-2002

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Manhole Cover Story

Tell the story that goes with this book cover by Russell Butler.

Image hosted by

Red Death

In the dark depths of the Bavarian mountains, laid a village. A village that was plagued with fear, riddled with death. The church bells tolled continuously, terror gripping the town people. They called the terror Red Death.

Prince Danzig, whom lived in the castle by the mysterious lake, took notice of the horrors of the doomed village which his castle overlooked. He opened his doors to the thousand petrified villagers and bolted the doors and locked away the keys for their safety.

Red death lurched the streets of the village at night preying on the unaware and weak. It was a dark and mysterious character whom when you looked into its bright red face would end your life within half of the hour. One gaze into those disturbing white eyes would place a curse of death on the poor soul who would die a slow and pain filled death. Fuelled by pure evil, Red Death was the work of Satan himself. It dined on death and was intoxicated with horror. With no conscience, no soul, this beast might take human form but is not fit for society. He wore an all black cloak with a blood red inverted cross and has a skull and cross bone tattoo on his upper chest. Around his neck he wore a shrunken skull as a pride medal. No man was brave enough to face him.

The curse would first start paralysing the body slowly from the feet up, and then it would eat the muscles and slowly shut down your system. Then as a grim finally as you are griping onto your life you would spontaneously combust. A death fit for no human, no mater how sinful they are.

One story of ill fame was that of Wilham Krankenscwartz. He was a 12 year old boy who was the breadwinner for his family. He spent his days in the town square polishing people’s shoes for whatever small change they could give him so he could buy food for his mother and siblings. His father was killed by the King of Bavaria 3 years before for thieving a goat. One day, Wilham went into the town to begin work. This tall dark mysterious character over towered him. He slowly looked up and saw the shrunken head around the hellion’s neck and Wilham tried to kick him over but he was to overpowering. He grabbed the young child by the neck and proclaimed “In the pits of hell thou shall writhe for eternity” and the boy was cursed and killed.

“You all shall be safe within the castle walls. No demons shall enter the doors alive”. The Town crier, Ivan Hamish, arose and said powerfully “Thank you kind prince, on behalf of the town’s people I wish to thank you for allowing us to seek refuge from the horror of Red Death”. He was a full figured man who may seem charming in the public, but can be self cruel and self centred at times. At night, the families would retire to the castles many secure rooms and the prince’s armed guards would patrol the castles corridors and perimeters. Once again joy and the sense of security had been restored in the people of the old village. Prince Danzig would hold giant feasts every evening which provided the prince with company. All this time the main doors of the castle remained bolted. Until one night.

The Princes staff worked endlessly to prepare the castle and guests for the Masquerade ball. The Tailors worked miracles with the materials they had on hand to dress the townspeople marvellously. The chefs spent three days cooking and preparing food for the big event. The Main function room was transformed from a dark dusty disused room into a magical and exquisite ball room. On that cold January night the guards lit a roaring fire in the main ball room which not only illuminated all the room and its many crystal items it provided a great source of warm and comfort for the towns people. By eight of the clock the towns people starting to make their way to the ball. They all looked so dignified and important. They all wore masks of all different colours and materials.Ms. Helena Brocsher even got involved with the evening she looked marvellous wearing an all crimson dress with a beautiful golden mask.

Helena was once a beautiful long black haired girl whose family owned a stall in the main strip selling medicine. She was studying medicine like her father and other siblings, until there was a need for a cure to the dreaded Red death Curse. This was when she was sent into a nervous breakdown and to add fuel to the fire her husband to be was killed by the disease. The site of the dreaded disease sends Helena into distress and for her to come and dress up was something really big.

All of the guests were having a good time. They all dined on a long table with every type of meat and vegetable available to them. The children ran around playing and laughing as they swapped masks to see how silly they could look. The others walked around and mingled. They reminisced about the passed as they had no news to discuss. Thus may be the reason why the evening was such a success because there was no politics or religion to heat up the discussion. It was so relaxed and everybody enjoyed themselves. It bought the town closer together and allowed them to understand each other more and enjoy there company.

Some of the more musically talented townspeople got together and formed a band and regaled the crowd with classic tunes from near and far. The music got the people dancing and even the Prince was seen to have a dance. It was the first time in many years that the castle walls had heard the sound of a crowd and people laughing. The prince was almost ready to call the evening a success until…

On that cold January night in the castle, some months after the village people had shifted into the castle on the other side of the mysterious lake; the night of the Masquerade ball; there was an unfamiliar sound at the abandoned door. A banging was becoming disturbingly louder. One of the guards, Lemmy Kilmeister went to the door to investigate. As he looked through the inspection door he saw something quite menacing. A dark figure which moved silently through the night although the guard could not see the persons face. “Halt! Who is knocking on the castle door so late?” the guard queried. No response. The guard repeated himself, then he experience the most terrifying display. The figure looked the guard in the eyes and proclaimed “the bell tolls for thee!!” The guard’s eyes protruded from his face. The guard looked the bright red face in the eyes and all he could see where fiery demons and bodies being horribly tortured. Images filled the guards head. Images that no man could possible imagine. The guard instantly fell to the floor and began to die a slow and painful death.

The courageous guard, known as Lemmy Kilmeister was a man with nerves of steel. 6 foot tall his harms were the size of tree trunks. He had a head full of blonde thick hair and eyes of piercing blue. He was the type of person who was not afraid of anything. Until that horrible night.

The town’s people rushed to the scene. Helena Brocsher wailed “it’s the curse of Red Death, It has returned for us”. The prince out of the armoury returned with his shining armour and an axe. “I shall put an end to the horror!” Prince Danzig said bravely. He exited the castle fully alert and ready to fight the demon. The prince started to breathe heavier and heavier. Sweat dripped off his fore head. Fear overwhelming him. All of a sudden the red faced figure appeared in the meadow. The Prince avoiding his deadly stare swung the axe violently. A giant roar was let out and a loud explosion followed. Prince Danzig tucked his body away from the flames. He slowly rose from his crouching position and proclaimed to the villagers” You have nothing to fear no more. The Red Death has been banished from this world!” The Villagers ran out side and picked up the prince and carried him into the village where they celebrated with a month long festival.

After these festivities when all returned to normal. Except for Prince Dazig. He returned to the castle to find the corpses of his guards arranged in a weird formation and in the middle laid a stone tablet which was engraved. It stated; you are now cursed to an eternity of solitude. You may never see the gates of heaven or the pits of hell but you may never be truly content. Long Live Prince Danzig.

Every year after the slaying of red death, the village has a feast to commemorate the liberation, but still to this day the horrors remain in their minds and to this day Prince Danzig remains Locked up confined from the world never to see the face of another human.

by Ryan Camilleri

Friday, March 11, 2005

How to Tell an Urban Legend

About Urban Legends

The telling of an Urban Legend seems to be a way for our society to satisfy it's need for rituals.When you tell one of these tales you're like a tribal elder explaining the workings of an unexplainable universe to your tribe. You're imparting wisdom, protecting them from harm and if you do it well enough they will pass your wisdom on by lunch time.

The telling of an Urban Legend is a ritual even if it's done while standing around a water cooler at work or during lunch time at school or in a car park with your friends.

For example during this ritual you could be telling them about this story you heard from a friend last night that involved a cactus they snuck back over the boarder from Mexico that exploded in their house and all of these black widow spiders came crawling out and...well, you add the rest if you want. That's how urban legends work after all.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

The Ghost

About 10 years ago my family and I moved to an apartment complex, it was small and nice and new and stood on what use to be a farm house owned by a family that use to scare all of us neighborhood kids.

After the family sold the house it took about 2 years before it was torn down and the developers put up the Apartments. In that time the house was never broken into or vandalized. No one threw rocks at the windows or broke in to explore.

It was shunned.

When my husband and kids and myself moved into the apartment we were only the 3rd family to live there.

At the time my youngest son was only about 8 years old and I thought the move was very hard on him. He wasn't sleeping much, he had dark circles under his eyes and when I asked if he was sick he told me, " No Mom. This little boy comes into my room every night and plays with my toys and he keeps waking me up. "

I didn't think much of it, I thought Julio was just playing games with me. I thought maybe he was missing his friends at our old place. I thought he was imagining things.

Shortly after this my sister and I were in my apartment. In fact, we were in Julio's room playing with his new pet gerbils. We were making small talk when I saw a little boy run by the door and into my bedroom next door.

I told my sister that one of the neighbor kids was probably looking for one of the kids ( my kid's friends had the habit of just walking in without knocking )and I was going to shoo him out. When I got to the bedroom door, my cat, Wolfie ran in with his ears flattened against his head, his tail was puffed and his back arched and when I tried to step out he bit my foot until I backed up. Then he sat there and made it very clear he wasn't going to let me pass.

I remember my sister telling me, " there isn't any kid, you know that right? "

Then Wolfie stood up stretched and sauntered down the hall. Or tried to. I grabbed him and we went out into the living room until my husband and brother-in-law got home. When they came through the door the first thing I heard was my brother in law say something about Wolfie looking at him like he was going to take a chunk out of him. But once Wolfie saw who was there he was fine.

We never saw the little boy again.

Wolfie is almost 14 years old now and according to my vet only looks about 8. He's my companion and friend and when I'm sick or scared he's always by my side. Some pets are pets and cats are cats and dogs are dogs.

But Wolfgang is much more.

He's seen ghosts.

The stories he could tell....

Ghost stories are a way for us to face and conquer our fears. They bring light to those dark places that can scare us. And the heroes in these stories can be anyone...or anything.
But I should warn you...this was a true story. Sometimes the things we see everyday can be much scarier then the things we can make up!


In the mountains of Auvergne, a story dating back to 1588 was told of a royal female werewolf. In the story the nobleman was gazing out of his window and upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt. While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf. In the ensuing struggle, he severed one of the wolf's paws and placed it in his pouch.

Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all, in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring. The nobleman recognised the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off.

Finish this story

Respond to this legend by making a piece of art work, rewrite the story from another perspective, create some lyrics, write a poem, be a journalist and write a news report or think of something completely different. Research and find out about wolves, werewolves and shewolves and rewrite one of these as an urban legend.

How to Spot a Werewolf

As with witches, finding a werewolf largely seems to be a matter of looking hard enough. Some of the warning signs, according to the world's myths, are:

  • Red hair

  • Born on the 25th of December

  • Eyebrows join in the middle

  • Index and middle fingers are of the same length

  • Love of rare or raw meat

  • Hairs on the palms of the hands

  • Hair on the inside of the skin (that seems like a tough one to check!)

  • Will change back to a human if you throw a piece of iron or steel over its head when in animal form.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Chamber of Horrors

A tunnel from Soul Food leads to the Chamber of Horrors which is actually an abandoned Victorian Era Medical School. Enter this chamber at your own risk.