I remember as a kid roaming on Halloween to decorated houses asking for candy. Mom didn’t have to walk with because I stayed in my neighborhood. I had the other kids to walk with me. When I grew too old to trick or treat Mom threw a halloween party.
I look around now at the neighborhoods, and find I am sad. Not many decorate anymore. When my teen was of the age to go we did trunk or treats because it felt safer. The one time we did the trick or treat in the neighborhood thing I was scared by a guy giving out funky shelled boiled eggs.
Now that she is too old for the trick or treat thing I find myself looking at what traditions I want for the holiday from now forward. We decided this year to do a horror/halloween movie marathon. I want to move away from Candy focused activities. To me it seems like so much of Halloween has vanished and I am at a loss as to how to fix it.
What traditions do you have, and why?
Walking around the town with a badge and a gun tends to create a attitude. Especially since the whole town knew that I was a seal. I had been considering going detective, even took the initial tests for it. Still, in the moment, walking my beat. .Well I felt like a bad ass. Even the asshole drunks didn’t tend to fight when I sent them home.
Yeah it’s easy to allow it to go to my head, so I would let the idea of being a bad ass run through my mind to boost my confidence before I patrolled. Confidence helped to prevent the idiots from challenging me. Jarvin really was not a place where violence is a concern. ~Tara Robinson
Everything that has been said up till now about Peter Pan and the lost boys was a lie. My grandmother spoke the truth in her diaries, where no one could see. I am going to share what I can from them and the journals of Hook that she owned. I am not going to try and excuse it. I am merely sharing what I have learned. To some extent, so I do not have on my conscience those who would fall victim if I am wrong about Peter pan and his lost boys being gone.
An excerpt from Rust, Gore, and the junkyard Zombie :
Jimbo actually tried to bite him. Dad’s reflexes have never dulled in the twenty years since he left the military. He was always a more physical person, it was one of his more annoying personality traits. His exercise routine was nearly a religious thing. He jogged five miles every morning, and did other muscle builders as well. He claimed it was how he kept his body in shape. I was so stunned that all I could do was stare.
Dad dodged away and started cussing. “Jimbo, you damn fool! What the Hell is wrong with you? “ Jimbo only groaned, and followed Dad. Again, Jimbo lunged and tried to bite.
“Have you been in my good stash again? You know that you have no tolerance for the booze! Get your drunk ass up to the couch to sober up! And how did you get so damn bloodied up boy?”
Dad clocked him, as Jimbo tried yet another time to bite him. Not the first time Dad sent him flying, but this time something was different. Dad knew it too. A look of deadly steel settled in his eyes.
“Jimbo, I am done playing with you. This is the last warning. Back off!” Dad pulled out his Colt Desert Eagle, and grimaced as if he really did not want to use it. To be honest, he probably didn’t. He rarely did. “Pull your head out your ass boy!”
Dad snarled as he backed away, but Jimbo didn’t seem to hear him. Dad aimed for the knee. The shot rang loudly, ringing painfully across the entire garage.
by Patricia Harris
A fickle beast.
Today a river flowing,
Tomorrow a dry gulch again.
The muse delighted
Ideas a plenty,
While art completed
Feast, young poet,
Writer, or artist.
While the muse is generous,
Lest your time of
Creativity become too lean.
Truth. And faith is often a struggle.