Month: January 2023

The Red Flame

My breathing stopped, and I was all alone, as though I was a crow’s wing drumming in my subconscious. My sense of calm faded. I was lonesome in my vivid state, unsure of what to do next.

As I close my eyes, I see an ice fortress in front of me, with a red candle gleaming from an abandoned dark window on the right side.


The walls of the empty room were glowing crimson red like blood flooded the air as if flames were slithering like snake tongues in the darkness. Moving in strange motions, it moved slowly and rigidly, as if arms were swimming on the walls.

Roses scented the room, but the type of rose that is usually associated with funerals. It smelled like embalming that is used on dead people, which is sweet, not bitter, therefore, it was peaceful, like a body resting in eternal torment or bliss.

Suddenly everything around the walls began blasting like a sheet of glass. Clucks, claps, and cries echoed as bodies of dead hares appeared on the walls. Their heads sat on spiky-glass-skinned demon shadow bodies. I was faced with a menacing smile of pure terror as they looked at me.

Whether they were called mastodons or goliaths, these giants were enormous and hideous. Under their head, there was a muddled formation of human infant faces weeping beneath the foreheads of rabbits. Each of these signs was horrifying to see. They had no hands, arms, legs, or feet like a person or an animal, but instead looked like surgical syringes; they hopped up and down on all fours like horses.

A room like this has never existed to me. I have never wished to dream another dream that would remind me of this. But I don’t know if I’m still alive, because I cannot wake back up into my normal existence. I can hear a mumbling voice screaming and crying in the solid dark, as the failed voice announces, “He’s dead!’

As I began to go into my own Heaven, I was in eternal sleep, the memories illuminating the graveyard’s doors with the sound of sighs, more wet than dry. The red in the sky was peaceful, as the vault of my chest opened, as I died into the halls of Paradise Lost.

There’s something real, honest-to-goodness about this place. It feels truly existing, as the mammoths approach. I can almost hear the crisp of the leaves withering in the winds. In the end, I’m sure, the doves will bring me home since I’m buried deep under a multitude of syringes…I am finally home in my ghost-haunted Dream, the one I will never leave…Now I am ready to inhale the final exhale.

It looks like the sky of red is no longer my body. If it is heaven, then I am now awake and not dreaming anymore. If it was hell, then I feel at peace now that I have been freed. I have been freed from my torments and all of the bunnies, souls that my past has haunted me with…Death was never the answer for me. Even with this newfound freedom of my past, I was haunted by it once more. I do not want to rest. Looking into the red sky, I will be haunted forever. Seeing everything…knowing everything…never having any sense of peace as I thought I did.

Attic in a new house

Having moved into a new house, Alex had heard from her friends that that house was haunted. Maybe that’s how her parents managed to get this house at such a cheap price. Alex shuddered at the thought.

After putting down her things and items in her new room, Alex decided to explore the house. She wanted to start from the top to the bottom which meant the attic was first. Alex switched on the lights to the attic and looked curiously around the room. The lights, which were way too dim, only gave out long shadows of the things around her and faint details.

Somehow the past family had left in such a hurry and had not bothered to pack their things. She wondered why but derailed the train of thought before her mind went wild.

And mysteriously, the only things in the room were dolls, dolls, and more dolls. It was chocked full of dolls! Other than that, there were figures draped in cloth. The dolls were not the friendly type like Barbie but were the ones that gave her the chills, such as the kinds whose eyes can close with just a swipe of a finger. Most of the dolls were missing body parts which makes it creepy. At least they are not alive! Alex thought.

Alex’s eyes then landed on the clothes draping over something. What is that? She thought. She pulled down one of the many clothes only to jump up in fear. It was an old, rusty, teddy bear animatronic that seemed to be gazing at her! Some of its fur had already disintegrated to show metal robot parts underneath it.

Pulling down other drapes, Alex realised that they contained other creepy and scary old animatronics too. The animatronics were also in the same condition as the teddy bear, some in even worse conditions.

Thinking that she already had enough fear for the day, Alex turned to leave when she was suddenly draped by inky darkness. Alex gasped before nervously laughing at herself for being so scared of the lights going out.

Suddenly Alex heard a metallic whirl before the sounds of hydraulics and the heavy thumping on the ground. Suddenly she was surrounded by children’s laughter, cold and hard. It engulfed her and the room, and it seemed as if it was trying to corner her. Her face beaded with sweat as her heart pounded.

Alex did not dare to turn her head to see what it was, she screamed and ran….

Straight into a wall.

Alex felt hot liquid run down her chin but she did not wipe it. This was it, she thought to herself as she spun around to see who was out to get her…Only to see…


There was nothing.

Her breathing became ragged as her eyes darted nervously around the room. She stared at the many dolls and they stared back with their glassy, lifeless, eyes.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she turned to find the door to exit.

Only to hear the sounds come on again.

A dark shadow came over her and Alex turned to face an animatronic taller than her coming at her with it’s hands outstretched, it’s claws coming to tear her apart.

She screamed with all her might.

Far away from the attic, hardly anything could be heard. Nobody would hear the screams of a young girl as she was ripped limb to limb mercilessly. In time to come, her corpse would be discovered, only recognisable by the hair that still clung to her blood red skull.


Hi viewer welcome back or welcome to my blog. I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted Summer Learning Journey tasks – and the reason being I have actually was on holiday with my family this year – we went all the way to Fiji to visit some family and have some of our own family time because with covid-19 and school, we haven’t been as involved with our family’s as we would like to.

Out of my whole family, I have to be the one who had the most wonderful time with my amazing family. I was so happy to finally meet my beautiful niece and nephews, and I have made millions of memories with them. But deep down in my heart, I start to feel so miserable knowing that it was going to end and that I was going to have to go back home. Sometimes I wish that I could stay there forever.

My parents said that if I want, I can go back to see them again when I have a school holiday around the end of the year – and of course I said yes, and the reason because I don’t have a lot of family in New Zealand, so whenever I get the chance to go visit my family I take it. Also because it the only time I get to play with a baby or with younger kid, and this is because I don’t have younger siblings.

Also if your woudering why I was still posting writing, well, that is because I had wrote them before hand and then scheduled them to post on the days that I wanted. And if I could I would have done the Summer Learning Journey tasks before hand and then scheduled them to post, but the Summer Learning Journey tasks are posted daily so I wouldn’t have been able to do then before hand.

Also if you were woundering when I got back, I actually just got back yesterday!


Roger Paine had an exemplary knack to living up to his surname. He took great pleasure in going against anything and everything mankind stood for. If someone said the sky was exceptionally blue that day, Roger, just to aggravate the person, would blatantly state ‘too many dark clouds.

It was this attitude at life that caused the rich, and obnoxious Roger to finally embrace a fitting demise. His wealth was self-made. He took advantage of the superstitious, and the elderly who firmly believed in his ‘secret ways’ of staying young.

He would take a picture of a person, making sure they held a dated paper in front of them to help him prove his technique. He would then be gone for two days.

When he came back he would tell them that he needed to enter the ‘other dimension’ in order to carry out his work. He would then show that person the picture he took of them. They would look decidedly different.

They looked younger. That was when he explained that the effects of the other dimension could only be done there. The person seeking a renewed youth had to cross over with Roger. No one ever refused to go.

The sceptics would accuse him of fraud, although they had no way of proving it. The believers lined up with money in hand for their chance to go to and re-emerge from the other dimension, a much younger person. All this was done in the inner circles of the rich and stupid.

Once they were in his claws for any money they had no choice but to continue to wait for their ‘turn’ to become younger. All this was done with the caveat that no one could tell another person as to what he is doing.

The biggest reason… outside of ignorance on their part… No one ever went to the police because no one ever survived the trip to the cabin where he took his victims on the ruse that the dimensional wall existed in a remote area. He claimed to have found the rift while hunting.

When he realised what he had found, he immediately purchased the land and built a cabin around it. His preposterous story was well received by the poor fools looking for the fountain of youth. They found instead their final resting place.

The vanity of the rich prevented them from hiring people who would eventually find Roger’s secret prior to signing over almost every cent they owned. A good investigator would have discovered Roger’s brilliant scheme by quite simply following him to his loft where he did his trick photography.

A simple computer program is used to cut, splice, enhance, and add shades of colour to the photos he took of the victims. The whole process took all of one hour. To give the process seriousness he would remind the victims it would take the two days he mentioned at the beginning of their meetings.He carried out his plans like a war-time general does. Each step of the way is carefully laid out.

Roger Paine sat drinking a refreshing Manhattan Iced Tea when a middle-aged man approached and asked, “are you by any chance, Roger Paine? I’m looking for Roger Paine who says he can perform miracles.”

Roger laughed softly and looked up at the man standing in front of him. Before he answered the question, he took a quick, but accurate note of the man’s demeanour and dress.

He looked peaceful enough and his clothes were definitely not off the rack. “Yes. I’m Roger Paine. I don’t do miracles. There is no proof that miracles exist. If you’re that ignorant then we will not have any further conversations.” Roger was living up to his negative reputation.

“Maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Wolff. I. M. Wolff of Wolff Industries. Perhaps you’ve heard of my company?”

Roger almost spilled his drink attempting to stand up and shake the hand of a very rich and important man. He caught himself and shook off the instant feeling of being overwhelmed by having I.M. Wolff talking to him.

His voice trembled as he tried to speak as if this man, Wolff, was just another Joe on the street. “I… I’m happy to meet you, sir. I am sorry for trying to brush you off.

I get tired of freeloaders hitting me up for special deals in my line of work.”

Wolff smiled and took a chair. “Mr. Paine, if you had acted any way other than how you just did, then I would have said I approached the wrong man.

Sir, you do have a reputation of being… shall we say… unfavourable to be around. So it was no surprise to me that you treated me the way you did. Let us forget the immediate past and concentrate on the very near future. What do you say to that?”

Even with such a prominent figure as Mr. I. M. Wolff, one of the richest, most powerful men in the country seated in front of him, Roger Paine would not let up from his uncouth character.

He sipped his drink and coldly stated, “Who would have thought that a big shot like you would come to a common man such as myself for help with your life?”

Unflustered by Roger’s attempt at being brash, I.M. Wolff said, “Please, sir, do not come to any conclusions until you hear what I have to say. You see, Mr. Paine… may I call you Roger? Good,” He took Roger’s quiet stare as a yes.

Actually, it was bewilderment in him that the man, Wolff, did not respond as expected. “Is there something wrong, Roger? You look peaked.”

It had been a long time since the evil-mouthed Roger was stuck for words. He made a mental note to mark this day on his calendar. “I’m sorry,” He lied. A thought of what I need to do later this evening crossed my mind as you were talking. Please continue.”

Wolff knew Roger was lying, but didn’t seem to care. He smiled knowingly and continued. “You see, Roger, I need your services for someone very near and important to me. He is getting on in age and strangely, he likes to roam around at night. He is the one who first heard of you. Evidently the denizens of the night know more about your work than the average Joe out here.

My man, Lobo, that’s his name, has a serious sleeping disorder. There are times when he prays for a good night’s sleep. We feel that your age reducing method may be the answer to his problem. He feels that the older he gets the more restless nights he has. Does any of this sound plausible to you?”

Roger was already counting in his mind the riches he’ll get off of this sucker. Wolff’s abrupt silence brought him back to the present. “Ah, plausible? Yes. As a matter of fact that is one of the determining factors in the need for the treatment,” he lied. “So many of my clients have complained about sleep deprivation that I have developed an easier process just for them.”

His lying was so convincing that he started to believe it himself.

“Good!” I.M. Wolff said, happily. Would the twenty-fourth of this month be too soon? That is only four days from now. I’m sure Lobo can make the time. Oh, one more thing…”

Roger paled. ‘Here it comes.’ He thought to himself. ‘The caveat, the catch. Go ahead, big man, take your shot.”

“I have two more questions for you. One being; is a million dollars, in cash, a proper amount? If not…”

“A million dollars will be fine.” Roger answered, trying not to sound giddy over that much cash.

“Your other question?

“Ah, yes. Would it be inconvenient if it were held at night. Say two hours after dark. Lobo is very conscientious about his appearance. He is extremely uncomfortable around people. That is another reason he roams at night. Fewer people are around. So… Do we have a deal?”

Roger was beside himself. He couldn’t believe that he was about to screw ol’ man Wolff. To make it sound more convincing, he directed the events for that night. “Tell your man Lobo, to meet me here, at this café at seven o’clock that night.

Bring the money and come alone. I will drive him to the cabin where we will change him for good. It takes about an hour to get there and another hour to set things up. Does this meet your approval?”

Wolff stared at Roger for a moment, which had him thinking Wolff changed his mind. He felt a shot of relief when the rich man answered him.

“Actually, Roger, the money is here, with me. You can have it right now if you want it.” He held out a manila envelope. “As far as you’re driving… no problem. Lobo never did learn to drive. I hope we have concluded our business. I have some arrangements to make for my dear friend Lobo after your treatment for him.”

For a fleeting moment Roger panicked. He forgot about making excuses as to why people don’t show up right away after their treatments. He put something together quickly in his head and decided to bluff his way for now.

“I am sorry, Mr. Wolff. I believe I forgot to tell you that sometimes a client has to enter the dimensional barrier for a little longer than most who have this work done to them. Are we still okay with the idea?”

Wolff remained silent for a moment as though mulling over what Roger said. Finally he spoke, “All I want is for Lobo to be happy. If he comes back in a day or a year, it doesn’t matter to me. I just owe him all that I am. So this is my way of thanking him. Yes, Mr. Roger Paine, we have a deal.” He reached to shake hands with Roger. With that done, both men turned and went their own way.

A four day wait for Roger was no big deal. He had to be nowhere important. By his own arrogant actions, he had no one to associate with. So time was irrelevant. He passed the four days going over new ways to fleece any prospective suckers seeking the proverbial fountain of youth. Time has passed and he sets out for the café to meet his newest victim.

As he enjoys a sip of brandy from his flask, Roger hears a noise behind him. He slowly turns around as he puts his hand on the small gun he carries in his pocket. Fully turned now, he sees something he hadn’t expected to see.

The figure in front of him stood about normal height, but had one distinguishing feature. He wore a hood over his head. Roger Paine stepped back one pace and asked the figure if he needed something.

“I, I am, Lobo.” A mild, but steady voice said. “I believe Mr. Wolff told you about my dilemma.”

Roger quickly recovered from his mild shock in seeing a hooded being standing in the almost dark passageway to the café. “Yes. I figured you must be him. Not too many people run around with a bag over their head.” He answered in his usual sarcastic manner.

“I am not here for verbal abuse. If you are not going to help me… just say so. I’m sure Mr. Wolff will be happy to retrieve his money from you.” He posed himself as if ready to walk away at a given second.

“Hold it, hold it. I’ll do it. I just tried to lighten things up a little,” he lied. Mr. Wolff said you were a sensitive fellow, so I just thought that… .“ He was cut off by Lobo.

“Please, Mr. Paine, I do not need your sympathy or empathy. I just need you to take me to this so-called secret world to help my condition. Now, where is your mode of transportation?”

“My mode of transportation? I didn’t think anyone in the modern world spoke like that.” Roger Paine shook his head in disgust at the way this meeting had gone so far. “Look, Mr. Lobo, I think we should try and start over again. I didn’t… .” Again, Lobo cut him off.

“I know exactly what you were doing. You were attempting to ridicule me as you do with everyone you come into contact with. I have been around too long to be affected by someone of your low calibre. Let us proceed with our mission. Where is your vehicle?”

Without saying another word Roger pointed to a car parked a few feet away. The fear of being verbally shot-down again by this hooded being was too much for his ego. The trip to the cabin was done in silence.

Entering the cabin, Roger lit the oil lamp on the small table next to the door. He apologised to Lobo for the lack of electricity, then caught himself. He couldn’t believe he apologised… that was a first for him.

Lobo broke his silence. “Is this entire cabin a gateway to this dimension you claim to be able to open up, or is there a special spot we stand in? If no special area is needed, then I prefer that we stand on your front porch.” Not waiting for Roger’s reply, he opened the door and stood on the porch, gazing into the night sky.

As he was getting out his large calibre revolver he kept in the table’s drawer Roger had his back to Lobo so the man couldn’t see his actions. Not realising Lobo had already gone out. He turned around before handling the weapon and started to say “you may be anywhere you want to be.

Please, step out onto the porch and I will join you momentarily,” he then saw the man was outside. He took the moment to retrieve his revolver.

He held it behind him as he joined Lobo in the night’s darkness, saving the minor glow from the lamp inside the cabin. Before Roger could make his move and dispose of Lobo, his victim, with his back to him, asked something that took Roger by surprise.

“Just how many people have you killed in this bloody game you’re playing?” With that asked, Lobo took off his hood to reveal his identity to Roger. It was I. M. Wolff. “You see, my dear Roger Paine, you made a grave mistake one month ago… today. You took one of my dearest friends out to this slaughter house in the woods. You killed him for a miserable small sum of money.

He broke his vow of silence to you about your work, and had told me of your enterprise. Being of the curious nature, I decided to follow your ventures to gather enough information about you to warn my friend Jackson that what you were doing is impossible.

I was too late in telling him what I had found out about you. You managed to get him up here just one day before I could warn him.

It is too late to help poor Jackson, but I can still stop you from preying on anyone else.” He paused to look at Roger, hoping to see fear in the man’s eyes. What he saw was the normal cold uncaring look Roger Paine was known for.

Roger pulled the gun from behind him and pointed it at Wolff. He smiled and coldly stated his intentions. “You, sir, are a fool, albeit a rich fool, but a fool to think you can leave here alive.”

The still of the night was suddenly shattered with a loud, evil horrifying laughter. I.M. Wolff’s face had a contorted look to it. What he said next caused Roger’s blood to drain to his feet. “Tell me, Roger, do you know what a Lycanthrope is?” He waited a moment for the now scared Roger to say something. All he heard was silence from the night. “Obviously, Roger, you are too scared to speak or you really don’t know the answer.

“Allow me to explain. Some people refer to Lycanthropes as werewolves. Yes! I said werewolves. You see my friend there are various types of Lycanthropes. Some become the wolf only on moon-lit nights. Others have to be in an agitated state.

Then there are others like myself. We become a wolf at any given time. That gun you have is not going to stop me, Roger. In order to kill me, you will have to place at least two shots into my heart to totally obliterate the organ.

The nonsense about silver bullets killing us was created by story-book writers. There are only a few ways to stop us. One is that gun of yours. Unfortunately for you, a shaking hand is not accurate.

So Roger, before I rip out your heart and devour it, I’m going to allow you to make peace with your maker. On second thought, I don’t think you have a god. Good-bye Roger Paine. With that said, I.M. Wolff became the monster he is and relieved his victim of his heart.




I saw you at the station, you look beautiful today

So full of elation, laughing all the way

I followed you on the bus to see where you would go

I don’t like to make a fuss but I still need to know

you have never met me though that will happen too

You will then soon see just what I am to you


My hearts been in recession, dwindling slowly away

But you are my obsession It’s growing again each day

Soon I will come to you and hope that you’ll be mine

And maybe you will love me too and all will work out fine

I know now where you live and I will visit you one night

To show you how to give me the love that’s mine by right


I saw you down by the shore walking with another guy

I’ve not seen him before, I watched you kiss goodbye

You left, I followed him down, some things must be fought for

I knocked him to the ground and held his head under the water

They’ll find his body on the tide, just another drowned

Assumed to be suicide drifted to where it’s found


I know it won’t be easy I have been here before

The drugs make you queasy and the bindings won’t reassure

My last love struggled against me, she shouted and she fought

It saddened me so greatly but a lesson must be taught

I put my hands around her neck until she fell to the floor

But when I went down to check well she breathed no more.


I saw you with the police today, I saw you break and cry

How I long to kiss away that tear in your eye

Maybe tonight I’ll hold you, hold you close for ever

But I need to be careful too the police can be clever

They might want to check to ensure your not involved

I don’t want to risk my neck until you are absolved


I need to.hide, to go away

Just for a week or two

But I’ll be back and back to stay

I’m coming back…for you


The search:


The detective put down the statement and looked at the clock on the wall

It had only been four hours, since they had taken the call

They had a witness who claimed to have witnessed the fight

And a girl who was seen with him just before his last night

She said he was like a brother, best friends since they were small

That she could never have another friend so good, and that said it all


She’d been asked if anything odd had happened quite recently

Anyone acting strangely In her vicinity

Well she had replied, I don’t want to make a fuss

There was one person who kept staring at me on the bus

She described him very well, as did the witness to the fight

It seems they could be the same, if the descriptions are right


They put out the descriptions and a photo fit

Got the usual wasting calls and then they got a hit

Then they got another, they kept on coming in

Many named the same man, mayhap its a win?

They had an address and a name, just needed now some luck

Within an hour the detectives team were at his home for a look


No one was home, no one seemed to be in

Nothing in the area that would incriminate him

They didn’t have enough to break in the shack

So they were resigned to having to call back

Then someone noticed a grid in the ground

Hidden in a corner of the compound

When they lifted it they were hit by the smell

Coming from what seemed to be an old dry well


The bodies were lifted out, body bags one by one

Some had been there a while others not so long

The latest had been strangled, the others well, they may

The state of the remains made it really hard to say

All five were young women, probably around eighteen of age

Though in some cases that was difficult to gauge

They searched the shack and the land around

Fingertip searches across the ground


The police pulled out all possible supports

The detective put a watch on all the ports

The killers name was Edwin Dee

He didn’t seem to have any family

Friends too were in short supply

Only a few knew him well enough to say hi

And most of them would happily avoid him if they can

He was described as abrupt, rude and threatening man


But the police were not talking about who, why or how

It was Where he was was the important thing now

They had searched every corner and turned every stone

Had posted policeman outside his home

But despite the policeman doing all that they could

Nobody noticed the eyes watching from the wood.





He watched in anger as the police moved around his land

How they had found him, he didn’t understand

He’d been so careful, but not, it seems, quite careful enough

And now they were in his house going through his stuff

He would have to move on, but here his ties were strong

All the beautiful women in the end had done him wrong

He thought about his new love, what would she have to say

Another bride to take away and on her wedding day


She sat outside looking at the moon,

Wondering if life was still worth living

If the pain of loss would leave her soon

Or be forever giving

She missed her friend, so simply said

But the emotions heaving deep inside

The man she now realised that she loved was dead

And something inside her had died


He swore as branches scratched his face

Cursing as he tried to retrace

His way back out of the wood

Nobody knew him, nobody understood

Nobody knew that all he wanted was to be needed

But in that he’d never succeeded

His life was all about rejection

A rare moment of introspection


She passed the kitchen knife from hand to hand

Ran her finger along the edge to the top

She knew no one would understand

But she knew that he would not stop

She had felt the obsession in the air

When she had caught him on the bus, staring

She knew he was somewhere, somewhere out there

She knew he was coming, unstoppable, uncaring


The detective awoke, his head in a whirl

The Girl he thought, we forgot about the Girl

He struggled up and reached for his phone

Need to get someone to watch her home


He parked the stolen car in front of her house

It’s time he thought, to collect my new spouse

He Picked up the bag ready on the seat

Time to Sweep her off her feet


She heard a car stop somewhere close on the street

Knew that this game was reaching a conclusion

Clutching the knife she got to her feet

Her head finally clear of confusion


He quietly walked around the back

Looking for a window, open just a crack,

Wanting to get in without too much commotion

Time to show her his devotion


She stood in the shadow watched and waited

For an opportunity to get close enough

Reminded herself it was a monster that he’d created

All would be over soon enough


He found a window that didn’t quite fit

Allowing him to open it

He stuck his head in to check all clear

So didn’t hear her coming near


The police sirens filled the night

Blue lights flashing cold and bright


A drop of blood on a silver blade

Her life forever nightmares of vengeance repaid


He lay face up on the cold ground

Eyes staring at the stars

He heard her sobs from all around

The slamming doors of cars

Even as his vision fading

Even as her scent pervading

Even then and for eternity


His obsession died and became his legacy

The Lady in Red

As was common in many blackwater Southern towns, the Redwood was not strictly just a (if you know what I mean. And Bogalusa wasn’t an ordinary whistle stop town.for various reasons. Over the years, many guests came and went—some specifically just to visit a certain year-round resident who lodged in a palatial second -floor suite where she worked in—and prospered in —the oldest trade in the world. At least until an ex-husband, possibly also a former patron strangled her in a fit of jealous rage.


The backstory to the Lady in Red and her untimely death was an ex_husband, her fifth. Had relayed a tragic story of how their son had drowned in the bayou behind their Houma bar. The lady in Red learned her ex husband had lied. A previous infant son was taken from her. She vowed ” She would kill or be killed before anyone took her baby from her. She confronted her ex-husband about the lie he created. It is possible the exchange cost her her life.


Today, her presence and trade lingers on. Although the Redwood has ceased to exist. The hotel was consumed in a three alarm fire. The lady in red remains a local phenomenon. She remains visible and active to all who seek her.


In spite of her brutal end, many men visiting the vacant lot where the Rosewood Hotel stood have reported hearing an incorporeal voice whispering sweet nothings in their ears—especially in the elevator, which the Lady in Red used to escort her visitors from the lobby to her chambers. In addition, hundreds of guests have awakened to discover a pearl beneath their pillows—supposedly from her necklace, which broke and spilled onto the floor in her fight for life.


Today, her presence and trade lingers on. Although the Redwood has ceased to exist. The hotel was consumed in a three alarm fire. The lady in red remains a local phenomenon. She remains visible and active to all who seek her.


Paranormal experts believe these hauntings are common in places where murder deprived the soul of it’s eternal peaceful sleep.


Lady in Red, Cheyenne Virginia, rest in peace your justice has been served. Her birth name was Cheyenne Virginia ?????

Why I Hate My Parents

I’ve always been asked who my family is. Up until recently, I could never give a solid answer. I constantly asked myself who my family was. I often thought that it only meant the ones who brought you into the world. But my family wasn’t the typical family. When I was born, my parents were still together. I had an older brother named Sean who was three and had autism, and an older sister named Kristin, who was a year younger than Sean. When I was three, my brother Lucas was born. At the age of six, my parents got divorced.


My biological mother moved to California and we stayed in Texas. My dad got together with his high school love. When she found out she was pregnant with his kid, they got married. I didn’t feel right around his new wife. And my feelings were valid. Meredith, my dad’s new wife, had a daughter named Hayleigh. Her father was a sperm donor, but my dad signed her birth certificate. The child they had together turned out to be my half brother Sebastan.


I was neglected by my bio mom and therefore didn’t know what it was like to have a mother figure in my life. Therefore, I distanced myself from Meredith. By the time I was eight I struggled with expressing myself. What I didn’t tell anyone until I was sixteen was probably the most detrimental incident between my step-mother and I.


My baby brother was taking a nap. I accidentally woke him up and my step mother said, “You’ll get your punishment later”. I gulped. She never really punished me before so I thought nothing of it.


Later, at about 11pm, I woke up to me being dragged to the basement. I saw my dad holding a belt and my parents made me remove my clothing. I had to hold my arms straight out to my sides while my dad hit me with a belt and Meredith blew a whistle at me. I must have blacked out, because the next thing I remembered I was in my bed, soaked in blood. I was only eight, I didn’t want to die. The school noticed the stains on my shirt and called an ambulance. I never really told them what happened. They found the bloody belt in the basement and still believed my parents over me. This is why I hate my parents.


The trauma still haunts me to this day. I refuse to wear belts, and I haven’t had a normal conversation with my parents since then. I cry myself to sleep each night because I have nightmares of the abuse over and over again. But ultimately, I am strong because I lived to tell this story. Please remember that abuse is never your fault. I blamed myself for nine years. But now I realise that my family isn’t them, but the people who support me when I need them most, and are the ones to pick me up when I fall.

A Story About Trying to Be Perfect

Once upon a time there was a wonderful little girl, sensitive, intelligent, gifted. She was so sensitive that it was easy for her to see words that weren’t spoken. Words that other people did not speak swirled through the air but ended up inside of her.

When she was not very old, and couldn’t even describe it with words, she noticed that there was a shadow on her father.

When she grew old enough to express the feelings (though only in her own quiet little mind), these were her words: “I am not sure that my father loves me. Sometimes he seems to love me. But I’m not sure that he REALLY loves me. He is so far away. His eyes are heavy and sometimes when he looks at me it’s as if he doesn’t even see me, or he sees me from a long distance. I think his smile looks so watered down because it has to travel so far to come from him to me.”

The shadow hovered around her father and around the little girl, like a drooping cold ghost. The shadow frightened her. She was only a little child, even though she was very bright and had many gifts. She needed her father to love her and take care of her. She was, after all, still a little girl.

But she loved her father with all her ardent heart.

She decided that the shadow must be her own fault. She thought that maybe she was not good enough. She thought that she could fix the shadow by being good enough—by being perfect.

Inside her ardent little heart, she decided, “I’m going to be good enough. I must be perfect, so my Daddy will really love me.”

She was a determined little creature. And she began to try, very hard, to be perfect. Now she started to collect the shadow moments, little pieces of her Daddy’s sadness that she picked up neatly and slipped into a bag that she carried on her back. Her bag got heavier and heavier, but she never noticed. She was too busy on her second project—turning her imperfections into rocks.

She tried very hard. And she was a very good little girl. But she was never perfect. She did not know that it is impossible for people to be perfect. She thought that if she tried hard enough, she could be perfect. And then her Daddy would love her. And then the shadow would go away, and the sun would always shine.

Every time the little girl made a mistake, it made her very sad. “You are not good enough! You have failed, you bad little girl!” she told herself. Every time she failed she would feel sad, frustrated, and angry. And every time she made a mistake, the memory of how she had not been perfect would become a little rock. She put these rocks into her apron pocket, which soon became full. Then she started piling the rocks up around her.

The little girl grew up into a gifted and sensitive but sometimes sad and quiet little woman. And then one day Lil woke up and realised that her life was full of rocks, piles and piles of them, heaped all around her; and some of these rocks had been there for years. The rocks had grown into a big pile that shut out the sun. Lil didn’t like the rocks, but she kept on making them. She kept on trying to be perfect.

One day Lil discovered a Light coming through a crack in one of the piles of rocks. She was curious, and so she pulled at the rocks and opened the crack wider.

Out stepped a Guide. A Shining Being, who became her best friend. The Shining One loved her so much that when the He was around, the shadow lost its power and became only a silly little ghost.

One day her Friend, the Shining Being, said to her that it was time to put down the rocks.

“I’d like to but I don’t know how,” Lil said.

By now she had more than rocks—she had rules. She had rules for how to live every aspect of her life. She even had rules for the right way to make new rules! The one thing she didn’t have was the ability to handle change well. It is difficult to handle change when you are spending your life keeping all your piles of rocks from tipping over!

So Lil kept on making new rocks, day in and day out. That was all Lil knew how to do.

Then one night, under the stars, her Shining Being took her to a hilltop overlooking a village. They looked into a wonderful valley below. The valley, Lil knew, was her life. She saw for the first time how beautiful the valley was. But everywhere she looked, the valley was cluttered up with piles of old, dusty rocks.

“You will never be perfect!” her Shining Being said. “Let go of this perfectionism. There is no point in making all of these rocks!”

Lil listened . . . and cried . . . And listened some more.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Lil said. “I don’t even know why I do this—I just do it.”

“You and I are going on a journey,” the Shining Being said. “We are going into your past. There is something there for you to learn.”

So the Shining Being took Big Lil to a Wise Woman.

With the Wise Woman’s guidance, and the Shining Being to hold her hand, Big Lil felt brave and strong.

With the Wise Woman listening, and under the loving guidance of the Shining Being, Big Lil closed her eyes and went inside herself, inside her memories, back to when she was very small, and with her father. “There is a shadow on my father!” she told the Wise Woman, wonderingly. “It’s cold and clammy and it’s full of sadness.”

“Let’s heal it,” the Wise Woman said.

But Big Lil shook her head. “I can’t. It’s six feet high and heavy—and blank. I don’t understand it. It’s just very large, and very sad.”

“Is it possible,” the Wise Woman suggested, very gently, “that the shadow does not belong to you?”

”What do you mean?” Big Lil asked. “It’s in my memory —isn’t it mine?”

Then the Wise Woman explained that there were things called legacy burdens. Sometimes people can take on feelings or burdens that are not their own, that belong to someone else. “People can’t heal legacy burdens because they don’t own them,” she explained.

And then she asked, “This sadness. Is it yours, or does it belong to someone else?”

And instantly Big Lil knew the truth. “It belongs to my Dad,” Big Lil said with wonder. “It’s his sadness. He was so often sad. I must have taken it when I was very little.”

“Then you must send it back to him for healing,” the Wise Woman said. “You cannot heal it because it doesn’t belong to you.”

So, very lovingly, Little Lil and her Shining Being build a rocket ship. And Little Lil emptied all the scraps of shadow out of her pockets and picked up all the pieces of shadow that were lying around her in her valley. She packed them all into a box which she then placed inside the rocket ship, along with a nice little loving note. She said goodbye to the shadow. Then with one wave of his hand her Shining Being lit the rocket and sent the rocket ship flying up into the sky and off towards heaven. For her father had died and was now safe in heaven, and would surely know, by now, how to handle the shadow.

Little Lil noticed right away, the minute the rocket ship left, how the sun shone more brightly! The sadness was gone! The shadow was no more.

But as Little Lil looked around her, she still saw heaps and heaps of old rocks.

Sitting in the Wise Woman’s office, Big Lil thought about the rocks—and she understood. “After I grew up, I realised that my father struggled all his life with anxiety,” she said. “I must have seen his anxiety when I was very little. I thought it was my fault. I thought that if I was perfect, I could fix him, and make him love me. But now I see that it didn’t have anything to do with me at all. The shadow was his own sadness. And I took it upon myself, because I loved him. And I tried to fix it, by being perfect. But no one can be perfect. And I never needed to be perfect, in the first place. I’m fine, just the way I am! How much of my life I have wasted with this rigidity!”

Right then and there, Lil decided to stop making rocks. But she didn’t know what to do with all the rocks she already had piled around her.

So her Shining One got a bulldozer and knocked down all the rock piles, then turned the rocks into fine gravel, which Lil smoothed out with a rake. Together Lil and her Shining One turned the gravel into a Japanese garden, full of serenity and peace. At the centre of the garden her Shining One put a statue of a beautiful woman. The statue is a woman dancing, spinning in a circle, arms flung wide, head back, smiling with joy.

Her Shining One said, “This statue is here as a reminder to you. Instead of making rocks, you are to dance. Leave the making of rocks to the earth, to volcanoes, to seismic tides. Let yourself be the dancer you truly are, the dancer who is inside you, just waiting to come out.”

And Lil threw her head back with sheer delight and laughed out loud. She jumped and kicked her heels together, three feet off the ground. She floated through the air like a feather.

Lil is still dancing—and dancing beats making rocks, any day.


Feelings… feelings are what drove us apart. Our friendship was strong, our friendship was kind, our friendship was comforting. I blame myself. You were perfect. You were always there, always made me feel like you were at least. You probably didn’t care but you saved me.

When I was at my lowest and nobody knew you always did. It made me feel important when you switched from smirking at me to only talking to me in a big crowd. It made me joyful when you finally knew my name. 

It was my fault, yet I blame you. I miss you. I miss having someone I can call my best friend. I want you not acknowledging me to not bother me but it does. I want to hate you but I can’t. We were so close and I know the old you is inside somewhere.

It was this summer the day my friends told me to tell you that I liked you. I did, I gave in. It was awkward because you were obsessed with someone else. It started as a little crush that I didn’t care about, a crush I wasn’t going to announce.

As soon as I did you cut me out. You lied to protect my feelings like you always do, but this time I could see right through you. I acted like nothing happened. I texted you, I called you, I snapped you, nothing… It was like I didn’t mean anything to you.

Now in the hallways it’s like I’m a ghost. Every time I walk past you my heart breaks more and more. I don’t want you to like me, I want you to say something. Tell me you don’t want to be my friend, tell me to stop trying, yet you never do. I’m alone.

I see you talking to my old friends that we always talked about, but not me. Not only this but you never did like me. You felt sorry for me. You knew I had no friends and tried to be nice. You were. This time I won’t open up like I did for you.

You told people you should never trust things but not me. If I didn’t tell you I had feelings for you, things would be different. I have cut myself off from showing feelings. I’m the girl in the corner.

Poetry Slam – Blackout Poem

Task description: This week during I had free time, so I got to chooses what I wanted to do, I decided to do summer learning journey. I did task called ‘Poetry Slam – Wha – Blackout poems’. After that I completed the task, and I posted it on our blog. I enjoyed this task very much, and I hope to do more like this soon. Hope you enjoyed. Please leave a comment; thank you for visiting my blog.

My Blackout Poem: Roses aren’t always red & violets aren’t exactly blue. The society that we live in never seems to speak the truth. Smiles aren’t always happy & frowns aren’t always upset, people judge too quickly & our feelings are what they forget.