Nightmareland #Horror #Anthology

This book, and two more sit in ‘The Box Under The Bed.’

Waiting … if you dare to peek.

Where writers come together, to gather their tales.

The #spooktacular, the sad, and the creep.

Each delivers a different take on the weird,

Feel the mysteries unfold, and the havoc they reek.

Visit the ghool, the macabre, the wandering and the lost.

Do it now! you’ll find it all

In Nightmareland, the cost of which

Will be … your sleep.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07K2KV723?ref_=dbs_w_series&storeType=ebooks

Today you can hold it in your hand. Now available in paperback.

Five Tasty Buttons.

Five chocolate buttons were the undoing of her.

There, on the saucer adjacent to her empty mug sat the five caramel filled white chocolate covered buttons. The child watched the door for Mothers return. A hand slithered surreptitiously towards the willow patterned saucer and grabbed. The woman snatched and stuffed them into her dribbling maw. A cacophony followed, the child shrieked, her Mother pointed … police were called.

Because of those innocuous chocolate delicacies … she finds herself in the Church hall attending addicts anonymous.

Gingerly she stood screwing her finger round a tail of escaped hair, “My name is Josy” she lied; they all did, “I am addicted to … she mumbled … dregs.” Her cheeks took on a shade of beetroot. “I have to eat or drink what others leave.” You could hear a fly attempting to kill its self against the Gothic Window, bump, bump it went.

Her breathy speak and wet palms were proof of her struggle. Tom the resident peeper began the rousing clap, congratulating Josy for managing to admit the shameful addiction, the first step is always the most difficult.

At the end of the share session, they mingled over tea and chocolate covered hobnobs. She didn’t accept a cup or plate. Tom thought it was her resistance technique. So quietly he lay his palm on her shoulder and nodded. Josy, startled, shrugged him away and scowled. People eventually said their goodbyes and drifted off. Except for one … Josy, she hid behind a pillar until they had gone.

The weekly rag ran with the headlines … Local woman detained for psychiatric assessment, The lady who so far remains unnamed had to be forcibly restrained after being found under a table in the Church of Mary and Saint Ethlereds hall. Beside her, saliva smeared plates and cups scattered willy-nilly across the newly laid oak floor. The distraught rector had to be sedated at the scene. Through his sobs, he told of being unceremoniously grabbed by the leg; pulled beneath trestles and forced to endure such an abomination. “She was sucking on my fingers licking my palms for the longest time; it was awful.” He cried.

The Jane Doe was held under section 136 of the mental health act for 72 hours to be assessed as to her competency to stand trial, this being her second arrest in as many weeks.

I love to hear your thoughts, it helps me hone my craft. Play along, tell me in the comments what other fabricated addictions could the people have … in this church hall.

Letting Her Go … As Good Mums Do.

Today, is due day for my daughters first baby. As a Mother of some grown up children myself; I have done this from a different angle. *eyes water at memories* I know, due days are often not met … like trains, busses and planes; some are on time, others not so much. My daughter has been and is a wonderful Aunt to four nieces under four and two nephews 12 and 13. Her brothers will vouch for the wonder of Aunt Lisa.

So, my nail biting began a few days ago. This is where the true “let them go” has to be as painful as when she moved out to uni.

Empty nesting; though I missed her, was where I got to see if I had successfully raised an independent young woman; one that would thrive in the world. I had and did and patted my back ‘Good job.’ That was between silent moments of abject fear. Wanting to drag her back, hold her tight and wield off any baddy who dared to upset my baby girl, with every minuscule breath I had.

Today is another test. I must wait, stand back, allow my son-in-law to do the things that they both need him to do. As he is great husband and smashing friend to my girl; I trust him implicitly. But, do I want to be there holding her hand? taking her pain away? Laughing, crying with her, when they wrap that darling bundle and put it in her arms. One hundred percent I do.

But I won’t, I will wait until I am invited to see them, until I meet the infant and check out his or her face, count the toes and fingers. I will smell the scent of purity, innocence and grandchild. My place will be to show patience and restraint. But it feels as hard as letting her go the first time. *Blows nose* well hopefully I will do better when the moment actually comes. Emotional mess comes to mind … Now I wasn’t expecting that. *wipes eyes. 😁😂😢 I am letting her go as good Mums do.

I thank Pixabay for the image of toes and ask

“Is this just me having a not so private melt down? Is psychiatry required?” Just shake me in form of a comment … I obviously am in dire need. … Pass the handkerchiefs *sniff sniff*

Watch “Right of Passage” on YouTube. #FGM

I have been lucky enough to have my poem chosen to be performed by Casey Lee Brock. A spoken word artist. Below is the result of that collaboration.

She wears the scars of the divine

They think she’ll forget given time.

that she’ll bow to the pain

And pray in his name.

But she won’t, instead,

she will cry in her bed

For God, on a mission,

Or ancient tradition.

The girls In her tribe

Just frown.

At the stain they see

On the six year old’s gown.

The heat in her face as

Infection slots In place.

Death is often the way.

Not saved from the cut,

Like a kick in the gut,

Her Mother held

Her hand that day.

It happens In a home

Just like yours,

carried-out behind

Closed house doors.

When blood seeps

through the cracks,

it’s covered with a mat

Never to be mentioned

Again.

I didn’t think it could be,

Because I was too blind to see.

Not in a house that’s

Next door to me.

For those who can not open YouTube.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1FtUkd_aIgRt2MgPvX8MvOgHYD4Dv9dO1/view

Thank you Casey for choosing to perform my piece I am very proud.

The article below was taken directly from Feb 2017 ITV news.

A case of female genital mutilation (FGM) is either discovered or treated in England every hour, according to the analysis of NHS statistics by a charity.

Between April 2015 and March 2016 there were 8,656 times when women or girls attended doctors’ surgeries or hospitals and the problem was assessed – the equivalent of one every 61 minutes.

Did you know this barbarity was so prevalent in the UK? Talk to me please. I will get back to you promptly.