For All Hallows Eve

Once upon a midnight dreary

while i pondered--weak and weary--

over many quaint and curious volumes of old Packer lore,


My mind was quickened my face did glisten as i recalled one never told before.



Twas that night in December that i remember, when joy and frivolity should abound,

and such was the case, til my sisters face, came floating through the opened door


They're dead one and all, I heard them fall, a man has killed my friends and only I

remain to tell the tale of the cursed bell, this last sordid night has been.


The year promised fun, as we went to the Rexburg BY-I

We new not a one, of the horde full of fun, that gathered in that old dorm room.

"the spirit of ricks" came to visit us hicks, on that third floor on night one.

He was thin, he was pale, and he smelt of dry ale. "An older boy likes us! what fun"

He regaled us with story, and promised if only we'd sneak out of our room at half past one

he's show us a time, he'd take us to climb to the peak of the old city hall.


Our foot tracks in snow, should have shown where to go to find the piper's lost girls

as we met near the old hall, fearing the fall, if our foot failed to grasp the right hold.


He took sally first, a blessing! no curse, as they climbed that old crumbling belfry.

And owl gave a hoot, she screamed, what a coot. I'd not be scared, no not I.

And so followed Karen and becky and Sue, they all made their way up the steep wall.

Each giving a scream when they saw whatever thing, lay hidden in darkness above.

When I was alone, a chill reached my bone, when a thick liquid squeezed under the door.

It moved slow, and it looked black, i slowly moved back, as a fear welled up deep in my soul.

For i'd heard no more screams, from my fellow rick's queens, than the one that began the whole show

nor laugh, or joke, no a single one spoke, i feared what evil bound there tongue.

A thud from behind the door, its wood burst to the floor, revealing my sisters' last sleep.

A scream filled my head, my bowels heaved with dread. Run, I must run back to home.


I'd hoped that my flight, would keep me from sight, of the devilish man we'd called friend

but that wasn't the case, he covered my face, muffling the cries for my life.


And with that, she was gone, dissolving in the arms of dear mom. Dad grabbed a gun and his keys,

we called the police, they found the deceased, piled high in the old halls bell tower.

Read me a story

Read me a book Uncle jake, read me a book is his plea

of pirates or dragons or wizards or ships. I’ll climb up on your knee.

Do you think he’ll make it to the end, do think he’ll save the day

oh no, this parts scary I’ll close my eyes, tell me when its ok.

You missed a part, what’s this say, why’s the picture the way it is

Our hero has won, now its the end, the victory is his

Read the story again, uncle jake, read the story just one more time

I love when you make the monster noise, if you hug me i’ll be just fine.

Ring Finger

It was a pretty ring. A soft pink ceramic with a rose engraved on its side. I found it at an estate sale of Mrs. Dr. Van Heiswald. She had been a petty women in life. Amassing the greatest collection of jewelry in the county. It was said she never wore the same outfit twice, and kept every single one stored in a hall of the mansion in which she lived. Her will had left strict instructions to burn the house to the ground and everything in it. But then again- when you die with and no one cares about you, they tend not to follow your wishes. It's not like the dead have any power. Right?

So I won the ring. The only item I could afford. I took it home. Showed it to my husband. He glanced up from the sport on TV to offer some perfunctory praise of my new ring. He may not have noticed, but I loved it. The rose was so beautiful. The pink so feminine. When I went to bed. I almost took it off. But it looked so nice there, on my pale skin.

In the morning my finger ached. My hands must have swollen from all the time in the sun. I took a couple of Advil and soon forgot the pain and went about my daily chores, more than once I found myself admiring the pretty ring on my stately finger. That night at dinner my husband finally noticed. He asked why my finger was so red. And if the ring was too small. What a horrible man. I work all day and all he does is make fun of the things that make of happy. I put my hand under the table and he turned on the TV.

As we prepared for bed he asked If I intended to sleep with the ring. That man! All he worries about is this ring. I left it on to spite him.

In my dreams i heard screams. The screams of horror. I awoke to find the screams coming from my own mouth. My husband was at my side in an instant. Examining the ring still on my finger. The skin was an ashen gray. He tried to remove the ring. My finger burned with pain. He tugged, I howled but to no avail. The ring was cutting into the bone. He put me in his arms and carried me to the car.

The emergency room was full. I sat in a daze. When the doctor finally saw me. I couldn't speak but whimpered . He grabbed my finger to examine. As his hand jerked my finger, the gray flesh separated from my hand. The break was clean, right at the ring. It fell to the floor. I looked at the shriveled finger formerly of my hand.

My pain was gone. My hand was free. There was no blood. I sprang into the arms of Mark and we hugged and hugged and hugged.

As we left the hospital that early morning, we passed crowds of others I remembered from the auction. I noticed Mr. Howard crumpled near a body under a sheet on a gurney. Sobbing I hugged Mark once more, grateful I hadn’t bought the matching necklace.