Shadows will breathe

Shadows will breathe
"Careful. Evil has a way of making friends with the good and dragging them into the darkness." ~ Dr. Al Robbins

Friday, October 20, 2017

Contest - Day 5

***This contest is officially closed***
Congrats to Creepster Brian!
He is our final winner in our Halloween giveaway.

Here we are, Creepsters.
It is the last day of our Halloween giveaway...
(Good Luck)

Because October is my favorite month and Halloween is the best freaking holiday,
(Like if you agree)
I decided to have a week-long contest.
5 treat bags = 5 winners.
Every day this week we will be giving one treat to the Creepster
who answers a Night Lights Trivia Question.
Will it be you?
Just be the first Creepster to answer correctly
and I will mail out a little Halloween treat just for you.
Keep in mind, candy is not what's inside these little sacs.
Wanna know what's in it?
Win it.

Here's today's trivia question:

What term of endearment do we use for our fans and followers of the Night Lights Cast Shadows community?
a.  Dreamers                        
b.  Boogers
c.  Creepsters                               
d.  Pumpkins       

❤ Seems like an easy one to me ❤

There will be a different winner everyday.
And please read over the Contest Rules before you agree to take part in any of our contests.

Thursday, October 19, 2017

The Contest Continues...

***Contest Closed***
Congratulations to Creepster Angela!!!
She is today's winner πŸ‘πŸΌ

We're into it now, Creepsters.
It is Day 4 of our giveaway.

Because October is my favorite month and Halloween is the best freaking holiday,
(Like if you agree)
I decided to have a week-long contest.
5 treat bags = 5 winners.
Every day this week we will be giving one treat to the Creepster
who answers a Night Lights Trivia Question.
Will it be you?
Just be the first Creepster to answer correctly
and I will mail out a little Halloween treat just for you.
Keep in mind, candy is not what's inside these little sacs.
Wanna know what's in it?
Win it.

Here's today's trivia question:

What is the tagline we use here at Night Lights Cast Shadows?
a.  Dream On                        
b.  Spook It
c.  Creep On                               
d.  Time Up       

❤ Seems like an easy one to me ❤

There will be a different winner everyday.
And please read over the Contest Rules before you agree to take part in any of our contests.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Contest - Day 3

***This contest is closed***
We actually had a tie today.
Congrats to our Creepsters, Koty and Christie!
They are Wednesday's Winners!!!
For the rest of ya, there's still 2 days left to win.

Hello, Creepsters and welcome to day 3 of our Halloween giveaway.

Because October is my favorite month and Halloween is the best freaking holiday,
(Like if you agree)
I decided to have a week-long contest.
5 treat bags = 5 winners.
Every day this week we will be giving one treat to the Creepster
who answers a Night Lights Trivia Question.
Will it be you?
Just be the first Creepster to answer correctly
and I will mail out a little Halloween treat just for you.
Keep in mind, candy is not what's inside these little sacs.
Wanna know what's in it?
Win it.

Here's today's trivia question:

Where can you find Night Lights Cast Shadows?
a.  Facebook                        
b.  Twitter
c. Our Website
d. Tumblr                      
e.  All of the Above


There will be a different winner everyday.
And please read over the Contest Rules before you agree to take part in any of our contests.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

October Contest - Day Two

***Contest Closed***
Congrats to our fellow Creepster, Georgina!!!
She won day two of our contest.

Hello again, Creepsters.
Here's what's up for grabs...

It's our monthly giveaway!
Because October is my favorite month and Halloween is the best freaking holiday,
(Like if you agree)
I decided to have a week-long contest.
5 treat bags = 5 winners.
Every day this week we will be giving one treat to the Creepster
who answers a Night Lights Trivia Question.
Will it be you?
Just be the first Creepster to answer correctly
and I will mail out a little Halloween treat just for you.
Keep in mind, candy is not what's inside these little sacs.
Wanna know what's in it?
Win it.

Here's today's trivia question:

When should you be checking out Night Lights Cast Shadows?
a.  Halloween Time                  
b.  All Year Round
c.  When You're Feeling Creepy                            
d.  The Christmas Season      

❤ Seems like an easy one to me ❤

There will be a different winner everyday.
And please read over the Contest Rules before you agree to take part in any of our contests.

Monday, October 16, 2017

October Contest

*****This contest is closed *****
Congratualtions to Lisa!!!
She is our first winner of the week.
Check out our blog tomorrow for another chance to win.

Hello, Creepsters and Happy October.
Here is what you've been waiting for...

Our monthly giveaway!
Because October is my favorite month and Halloween is the best freaking holiday,
(Like if you agree)
I decided to have a week-long contest.
5 treat bags = 5 winners.
Every day this week we will be giving one treat to the Creepster
who answers a Night Lights Trivia Question.
Will it be you?
Just be the first Creepster to answer correctly
and I will mail out a little Halloween treat just for you.
Keep in mind, candy is not what's inside these little sacs.
Wanna know what's in it?
Win it.

Here's today's trivia question:

Which of the following would you use to describe Night Lights Cast Shadows?
a.  Spooktacular                        
b.  Fangtastic
c.  Creepy                                  
d.  All of the Above       
❤ Seems like an easy one to me ❤

There will be a different winner everyday.
And please read over the Contest Rules before you agree to take part in any of our contests.

Friday, October 13, 2017

Friday the 13th...

Image found here 

Be safe out there, Creepsters.


Thursday, October 12, 2017

Halloween Horror

Check out these blasts from the past...
Maybe get some costume ideas from these classics...


Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Answer the Question...

Image via Pinterest

Show off your skills...
Post your best Halloween pics below...


Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Movie Madness...

This is a solid list.
I'd like to change out one or two, but overall, good job.
Any comments?
Agree or disagree?
Have you seen any or all of these movies?
Image found on 

Monday, October 9, 2017

This Is Halloween

This is such a perfect pick for Music Monday.
Any Creepsters out there a huge fan of this movie?

Friday, October 6, 2017

For My Creepsters...

Are you a fan of the macabre?
Do you enjoy spooky stories?
Dark places?
Creepy tales that push the limits of your imagination?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, 
then, please,
check out My Nightmares and keep an eye on my writing.

GIF found on 


Thursday, October 5, 2017


Hi Creepsters ❤
Here's a spooky little read perfect for this time of the year.
Pour yourself an apple cider, put on that hoodie and enjoy this tale of the macabre.
Let me know what you think about it in the comments below...

Nightmare #177

Anna Weston was awkward.

Always had been.

Always had that black cloud swarming about her head.
Ever since anyone could remember.

Ever since that day.
The day of the incident.

That's what her family and the town refer to it as ~ the incident.
It happened years ago when Anna was four and still trying to figure out this gift.  Some say she was born with it; others felt she taught herself that kind of darkness.
Anna couldn't quite figure it out herself.  She knew not what it was or where it came from or why it had chosen her.  But Anna knew she was different and tried desperately to hide it.  Had done a good job of it too, until that day.  Well, until that night.
That night she had been shunned from everyone and everything, her family made sure of it.  They felt an obligation to the community to protect it, no matter the cost to their own daughter.
Anna was, after all, different;

At school~
Her classmates heard rumors of her abilities; her sacrilege.
They feared her presence among their classes and locker rooms.
Kept a close eye on her in the hallways.

The school board banned her from most school activities, such as dances and social gatherings and sporting events and her very own graduation.  The Principal even failed to mention that she should be the valedictorian.  She was, after all, smarter than all of them put together.  Anna knew it.  And what was worse was that everyone else realized it too.
The teachers resented her knowledge; secretly hated having to teach her what she already knew;
Classmates loathed her for being astute; for acing every test given; for her brains and raw beauty.  Anna was growing up to be quite the looker.

At home~
Dinner was always served to Anna in her bedroom~ which was little more than a cubby-hole in the attic. Anna would listen with great intent at the popularity of her sister; at the laughter that poured from the supper table she was not permitted to sit at; at the smells of warm bread and succulent meats that she never got to see be created into a meal.  She was only given leftovers - unwanted scraps of fat and gristle; half-chewed pieces of cold, hard bread ~ sometimes with the mark of leftover lipstick stained on its crust.

At night ~
Her father and mother would visit her, both heavily armed with rosary beads and garlic.
They were barely able to look at her as they completed the task of chaining and binding her to the bed.
She would laugh ~ out of spite and sadness, knowing that the shackles they bestowed upon her would not-- could not -- contain the energy she held; the energy she could use to summon her friends from the dark side. She laughed, demonically at them, these people she had to call family.
It wasn't till after they left her room, that she permitted herself to sob.
She would cry into the wee hours of the morning, cursing her own self, wanting nothing more than to be treated like a human being.
Just once to be in the limelight;
Just once to be admired and respected.
Or simply loved by another.

Even her own, older sister, Emma, was forbidden to speak to Anna since the incident.  She was taught to fear her; loath her; wish her dead.  Her whole family shunned her for something that wasn't even her fault.   They all lived in tensions, afraid that she would summon Them again; Afraid she would try and offer up another sacrifice ~ maybe succeed this time around.

But Anna never got her chance.  She was destined for greater things, no matter what the past had held against her, she would shine.  She would shine even if it were for only a moment.  She would prove she wasn't a monster; a conduit of evil; a freak that needed to be hidden from society.  So what if her past was speckled with mischief.  She hadn't asked for this curse
For this gift;
For this damnation.

Anna was sad and sorry.
So sorry;
Sorry for it all.
Sorry for scaring her parents;
For being different;
For being bad.
But it wasn't her fault and she didn't know how to turn it off; didn't know it was wrong;
And surely she couldn't be held accountable for something that happened in her youth!

But she was still paying some sort of price; still being hated by those who were to love her.

She thought back and cursed the one known as Dark Heart; those voices; the shadows.  She knows now that it was wrong.  But how was she to know then?  She was only a child.  A four-year-old conduit of some darkness she did not know how to fight.  She remembers it clearly.  Too clearly.

That night ~
She crept into her parents bedroom with a steak knife that had been left in the kitchen sink.  She crawled into bed between them, slit her own wrists (horizontally) and chanted some peculiar language that sounded more like music than anything else (her mother later stated).  Then, Anna held her bleeding wrists above their faces, ordering them to drink the blood of the Dark Heart.
Needless to say, the Weston's never felt safe again.  That is until the day that Anna graduated from Dudleyville High.  It was also the day Mr. Weston handed her a suitcase full of her belongings, a bundle of fifty dollars bills and ~ with a clear conscious ~ wished her well on her way out the door.

Anna was completely alone now.  And quite comfortable with it.  She shrank into the shadows she knew all too well, and although she came and went as she pleased, she knew she wasn't in control of her self.  She only had to suffer her own temporary existence.  And then, one day ~ soon ~ she would be called to offer her body as a gift to the Darkest of Hearts.  So, she moped around town;  cursing her fate;  killing her time between data entry and old movies.

And then, one day, about six years later, she got the call.
Her sister was to be wed and her presence was requested ~ and she was certain ~ objected profusely by Emma and her parents.  But they eventually succumbed to the pressures and charms of the priest of the ceremony, who assured them that family was the skeleton key to the House of Righteousness.

The reverend should have done his research and taken the family's accusations seriously.  For even though the ceremony went off without a hitch, the reception was to be most memorable.
Even to this day, the people of Dudleyville won't speak of it.   But the rumors about that night have made the town iconic and renowned for its dark aura that the townspeople still insist lingers today.

That evening, after the ceremonial wedding of Emma Weston to Joseph Dudley, things turned rancid. At the reception hall, a succulent dinner was served; the finest booze was distributed; and the merriment of guests abounded among the walls of the Dudleyville Town Hall.

It was about two hours into the celebration that Anna became giddy.  She licked the last of the bubbles from her champagne and stood up.

It was time.

She walked out onto the dance floor.  The guests fell silent.

Anna never danced. She was way to self-conscious for that kind of attention.
She had spent her last 25 years trying to become invisible.
She preferred books over people; music over conversation; and hardly ever left her cat, Griffin, and their one-bedroom apartment.
The only reason she was here ~ had to be here ~ was because of her sister. And she was hoping to be accepted before she had to go.  She wanted to finally be part of the crowd;
Part of something normal.
Just once to be accepted as human.
But she wasn't.
And deep-down she knew she never would be.
But she had to try.  And this was, of course, her last chance.

And so what if everyone there refused to speak to her.
Who cares if they only spoke about her in hushed tones.
She thought she'd give them a show anyways.
One last sentiment before she brought down the house.

The wedding band played and she let the music take hold of her;
Move her;
Possess her.

Others, who were on the dance floor at the time, took notice and slowly cleared the floor, giving way to her solo performance.  It was an amazing routine ~ breath-taking by all accounts.  Her family gasped; Emma cried out for her to stop.  Others just watched in silence.  Some women whispered among themselves with a green tongue; others couldn't look away.  The men at the reception - groom included - salivated, unable to hide their want.
All who were there that evening still remember it.
The performance;
The desire;
The blood.

Anna spun around and around the hardwood floor.
She was graceful;

She danced with the elegance of an angel in flight;
She spun an intricate step of all genres of dance, from ballet to hip hop to folk;
She truly rocked the Town Hall as though it were the performance of her life.
And it was.

The band encouraged the affair and played to her movements.  They howled a beat that was somewhat of a cross between rock-n roll and a tribal march.  But after about an hour, they too needed a break.

The spell had been broken.
Or so they thought.

Still, Anna continued to dance as if to her own music ~ a music only she could hear.

But a faint tune was gathering;  gaining sound among the whispers.
And within minutes, the band's music was replaced by another melody - a darker, more callous tune - later described by some of the guests as a sort of jewelry-box-music, and it rang loudly throughout the reception hall.

All eyes returned to Anna as she dominated the dance floor, sweat rolling off her gyrating body.

She was in a trance now, becoming one with music and oblivious to the crowd gathering, that now began to seep concern ~ not really for Anna, but for themselves.

Anna's dance exuded a rhythm from deep inside of her.
It needed to escape.
It had to be released.
Along with her curse.

Words formed and spewed from Anna's lips.
A chanting of some long-ago verse.
And she had no idea she even knew the words.

She ripped off her magenta-colored bridesmaid dress.

The crowd gasped.
No one looked away.
Not yet.

Covered in nothing but her own sweat, Anna swung her body to and fro, possessing every movement with grace and ease.  She twirled around the dance floor like a pinwheel on the wind.

She was hovering just above the floor ~ in a twist spin ~ when the first bone broke.
It jutted out of her calf.
Her screams told the tale of how excruciating the pain was to her.
A few ran to her aide;
tried to soothe her;
console her.
Somewhere someone called for help.

But she wouldn't let anyone near her.
She wouldn't stop dancing.
Maybe didn't want to stop.
Maybe couldn't stop even if she tried to.
So, she kept on twirling.

Another bone protruded from her thigh.
Blood sprayed across the wooden floor.

She stumbled a bit, yet, she continued to dance.  The tune changed slightly, to accommodate her limp and the jewelry -box-music picked up a pace that invoked Anna to perform a solo tango.  She was dragging her one leg to the other side of the room, when the next bones broke.
It was both the left and right humerus that sprung out of flawless skin in her upper arms, like a set of wings put into motion.
The crowd - all but a handful - ran from the reception hall, screaming of the terror that they couldn't even trust that their eyes had seen.
Later, many would even question what they saw and shrug it off as one too many 7 & 7's.

But a few brave souls hung in the reception hall a little longer, only to snap some pics and video on their phones for future evaluation.  Images that later would be too obscure and too out of focus to make out.

By now, Anna's face was beginning to distort, her face rippling like a wave.
She was beginning to lose consciousness now.
Her body had betrayed her;
It was no longer her own;
She had no control over it.
It was being sacrificed to the Dark Heart and she could do nothing but dance and comply to its musical tyranny.
And she was okay with that.
At least someone wanted her.

The minutes rolled by, with that tinkle of eerie music that controlled her.  It forced the rest of her skin from her body It melted and trickled off her bones like wax off a candle.

She was, literally, a walking skeleton.  Or rather, a dancing one.  And her skin lay upon the floor like a discarded pile of clothes.
Next to it, blood and tissue gushed like water and formed a neat pile up along side of the skin.

Anna and her bones clanked on dancing to its own private, primal tune.
Her jaw bone opened and from it came a yell so excruciating that even the hounds of hell whimpered in their dwellings.

Her screams rocked the room; shook the tables to their sides and broke every last glass and bottle in the joint.  The last of the onlookers ~ whose shock finally jolted them free ~ bolted into a mad dash for the exit.

She laughed a horrendous, evil clown laugh.  A laugh so deep and twisted it shattered the windows, bathroom mirrors and fractured Anna's own bones into fragments.  These fragments crumbled.  Bone dust sprinkled to the floor like glitter.

The music stopped.

If you ask anyone in Dudleyville ~ to this day ~ most still hold their silence about the incident at the Town Hall that night of November 12, 2001.
Others, who spoke openly about the events have long been forgotten by some freak accident or untimely death.
No video or picture from the reception has ever been recovered.
The rest of the people in town remain silent.
The people of Dudleyville know how to keep a secret.
The Weston family buried the dust remains of Anna in the local cemetery.
Once buried, they never stepped foot near her grave again.
A keeper of the cemetery grounds insists that he hears a kind of jewelry-box-music emitting from her grave site whenever the moon is full.

~written by: Deevious~

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

October's Book Club Pick...

The Night Lights Book Club has announced October's evil read...

The Tell-Tale Heart is the perfect short story for October. 
It is a great pick, full of darkness and guilt.
And it gets the highest rating at the club: ❤❤❤❤❤
Are there any Poe fans out there?
Do you agree with my rating?
Have you read it?
What is your favorite work by Poe?
Check out the full story, why this one made the cut, and subscribe to get all of our Book Club picks... 



Monday, October 2, 2017

Book Club Business for October...

The Night Lights Book Club announces it's evil read for the month...
Are you in?

Friday, September 29, 2017

Creep On Creepin' On...

How perfect is this for us?


Image found here 

Thursday, September 28, 2017

For the Curious Ones...

This short story is part nightmare; part daydream; part imagination.
I hope you enjoy its darkness...

The Endless Way
Nightmare #91

I couldn't explain my curiosity.
And if I could, I don't think I'd change a thing.
I needed to see it for myself.

I drove that road every day to work and back home again.
That's five - sometimes six - days a week.
I couldn't help myself.
I saw that dirt road - it ran up the hill and into the skyline - and I had to know where it led;
What was at the end of it?
What treasures did it hold?
What were the views like from up there?

I expected to see a beautiful horizon;
Maybe a flowing field of flowers;
Or a pasture filled with grazing animals.
I assumed it would be similar to what you would find at the end of a rainbow.
All goodness and gold.
But it was not.
There was no magic here at all.
Only horror.

I saw things I should not have seen.
I now know things I should not know.
I hold secrets that will haunt me.
That own me.
That I must take to the headstone.

If I tell, They will come for me.
They made that quite clear.
They will distribute their own brand of justice upon me.
All because of my curiosity.
My stupid curiosity.
My childish thoughts of grandeur.

But that blood;
The smell of rot;
The impending doom;
There was nothing pretty about that at all.

It was the thing of nightmares.
And it proved to me the existence of monsters
and the arrangement they have with man.

That road is a path to hell, I assure you.
Take my word for it.
It is a hell on earth and I pity the souls who must walk it.
I pity us -
For we will all have our chance.
Sooner or later, we will all have to take that walk out of here.

But until that day comes...
I truly wish you well.
I wish for you the protection of angels
and the sanity of ignorance.
Above all, I pray for your soul
and for mine.

~by: Deevious~

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

A Bit of Poetry...

Do you fear the force of the wind?
The slash of the rain?
Go face them and fight them
Be savage again.

~ Hamlin Garland~

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Horror Movie Prank

This is killer....
Would you shop here, Creepsters?

Monday, September 25, 2017

I'll Be Good

Not sure if you heard this one yet, Creepsters, but with its haunting lyrics and methodical rhythm it's worth a listen.
Let me know what you think.

But the blood on my hands
Scares me to death
Maybe I'm waking up...

Friday, September 22, 2017

Weekend Reads

Here are some of my short stories, for the all dark hearts out there...


Thursday, September 21, 2017

The Red Shed

Hello, Creepsters and welcome to #throwbackthursday.
This week, I picked a short that I wrote a few years back.
Not far from where I live, there lies a red shed.  It's set back from the road and only truly visible in the winter, when the trees are asleep and bare.  Only then, can you glimpse a peak into this backwoods terrain and snag a view of this Red Shed in its entirety.  Only then, can you give in to your imagination and theorize what goes on in this Red Shed.  
Or maybe ask yourself, what kind of trouble has gone on there in the past?
Maybe we will never know.
Maybe Tara can tell us...

The Red Shed
Nightmare #12:
The red shed sat alone in the field, its only visual company a flock of evergreens on its one side.  Spread upon its boards, a fresh coat of red paint that dripped onto the snowdrifts billowing around it.
The structure looked so out of place and how Tara ended up here was beyond her recollection.

She panted little clouds of smoke into the frosty air and trudged on through the snow drifts.  Upon reaching the door, that bitter stench of paint filled her nostrils and made her woozy.  She grabbed hold of the bronze handle, red paint brushing against the side of her hand.  "Damn it," she cursed the air.  She tried rubbing it off onto her jeans, but only managed to smear the stain in both places.

She grabbed for the knob again.

This time, she hesitated.

Why did she have to go in?  
What was it that brought her here?  
Why was she trembling?
What did she know that she couldn't remember?
Why was she here, stuck in this dream?  This nightmare?

She breathed deep, drawing the cold air into her lungs.
She turned the handle and stepped inside the shed.

It was dark and ridiculously quiet.
With only a little stream of light from the open doorway to guide her, Tara paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the shadows.

Looking around, she could see sawdust at her feet; red board - with that same fresh-paint smell -encased the walls of the room; and in the corner sat a large white basin.
She tiptoed forward, forcing herself towards the porcelain monstrosity.
Her boots click-clacked across the wooden floor.

Nearer the object, a terrible stench of urine caught her nose and she felt herself swallow a bitter taste that filled the air.

She didn't want to look.
She didn't want to see it.
She didn't want to know.
She knew she should run out of there.
She knew there was nothing good that was coming out of this dream.  This nightmare.

But she couldn't run.
She could barely hold herself up to peer into the basin.
But she did.
And she could never unsee it.
And she could barely catch her breath.

In that same minute, the shed door slammed shut behind her, snuffing out the little bit of light that had guided her.
She heard its handle latch.
She didn't even try to yell.
She didn't run to the door and bang on it or holler for help.
Tara knew why she was here.
She was here to atone.
Her tears fell hard and they fell fast.
She glanced once more into the over-sized basin.

All that blood.
All those bones.
How many victims were there?  
How many more would there be?
How long would she have to stay in this dream?  This nightmare?

Tara slumped to the floor and covered her mouth to keep from screaming, knowing now why they called it a slaughter tub.

The End 

- Deevious -

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Paranormal Prank

It's always funnier when it isn't happening to you. 😈
I stumbled upon this on YouTube and laughed it up at their expense.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Choke It Down...

Image found on Pinterest

I stumbled upon this quote and fell in love with it.
It is so poetic;
And true;
And tragic.
Enjoy the ride.


Monday, September 18, 2017

Just Released

Hello, Creepsters and Happy Monday.
More specifically, Happy Music Monday.
If you've been following me over the years then you know by now that I like a huge variety of different music.  I can go from Pink Floyd to The Chainsmokers to Disturbed within minutes and bring it back around to Maren Morris and end it with some sort of great 80s jam.
My point?  I listen to it all and I truly appreciate any suggestions made to me.
I will always - at least - listen to a song.
I will always give it a chance;
It's due respect.
At most, I will download the tune and allow it to change my life forever.
I want to say thank you to all the Creepsters out there for the music recommendations you have given to me over the years.  Thank you for broadening my knowledge and my tastes.  Thank you for taking the time to share a bit of your soul with me.  I am grateful.

I am returning the favor this Monday, to let you in on one of my favorite artists.
David Gray.
Maybe you've heard of him;
Maybe you've been listening to him for years;
Maybe you turn him off as soon as he comes on;
Maybe you're not a fan;
Maybe you love him too.

Whatever the case, I receive updates on his music and just found out he dropped a new song today.
So, here it is...
This is what I'm listening to today...
Check it out and let me know what you think, Creepsters.
Or leave a comment on one of your favorite artists/songs that you want to share with us here at Night Lights.
Either way,

Thursday, September 14, 2017

A Nightmare to Remember...

Why do bad things happen to good people?
Or do we just assume they're good people?  

Are we all not a mix of kind words and harsh opinions?
Of good acts and wicked intent?
Of sweet love and lecherous thoughts?

And how wide is this invisible line between good and evil? 
How thin is that veil between the dark and the light? 

The Argument
Nightmare # 71:
     I lifted my head and found myself in a Roman Catholic church.  My one hand was leaning on a pew made from red oak and an open missalette was in the other.  The Gospel reading came to a close and a loud bustle of commotion ensued as the whole congregation took to their seats.  The priest stepped off the altar, genuflected and took a seat in the front row.  From the vestibule entered a thirty-something man with thick, blond hair and Clark Kent glasses.  He walked with a limp to the podium.
     Clearing his throat, he introduced himself as Dr. Jekyll.  I scanned the immediate area wondering why I was the only one a bit startled by his name.  Those around me sat in an attentive manner - never flinching - their eyes fixed on our speaker.  This so-called Dr. Jekyll raised his right hand into a fist, as if he were summoning an army behind him.  He brought the fist to his upper torso and pounded his chest with such force and so many times, I thought he might knock himself out.  Instead, he stopped his penance abruptly and moved both arms out to his sides.  When he addressed the congregation, he spoke in a boisterous voice and in true form of evangelists everywhere.
     "It is no longer enough to just be aware of evil in this world.  You must acknowledge it, embrace it, and confront it.  You must look evil square in the eyes, not with fear or even pity, but with a confidence so extraordinarily strong that it cowers from you, turns away, and runs with its pointed tail between its legs."

     He paused, allowing us time to take in his words.
     Then he asked, "Are you aware of the evil in your life?  Of the evil in you?"  His voice raised another octave.  "It is important to remember that evil takes on many forms, but so, too, does goodness.  And in the words of Ellen:  Be kind to one another."
     A malicious cackle filled the church.
     My attention wavered from the good doctor to the source of the chuckle.  It came from a menacing-looking creature that had entered from the back door of the church.  The creature slithered through a few of the pews, like a criminal scoping a mark.  It made its way up the aisle, resting in front of the now open-mouthed congregation.
     A trail of white slime followed its path and congealed in its wake.

     A baby bawled in the background.
     The creature was both handsome and hideous.  It stared at me with dead eyes.  I stared back, angry with myself for being unable to break its trance.  Its complimenting features included a tall, slender build that held onto a very crisp suit, complete with tie and cuff links.  Muscle mass bulged in all the appropriate areas and in perfect proportion.  From what I could sense, he emitted a scent like cherries.
     And in the next moment he changed.
     Just like a hologram, he shifted into a leathery, wart-like creature with a thick, reptilian tail that jutted out the bottom of his suit jacket.  His skin took on a melted feature and he winked at me.  I made no movement, but continued to stare like an onlooker of a horrific car accident.
     "Mr. Hyde," the evangelist at the podium growled. "You are not welcome here."
     "My dearest Jekyll," Mr. Hyde replied, his hologram facade swaying back and forth from divine to deformed.  "If I may be so bold as to remind you that without me you couldn't exist.  You would be undervalued and ignored.  You would be as boring and as bland as food without salt; as a sauce without spice; as a cookie without sugar."  Hyde chuckled louder this time, his cackle bouncing off of the walls and all around those assembled.

     "You need me.  You need me even if it's nothing more than a reminder to know that you are true at heart.  And as hard as it is to admit, I am inclined to say that neither of us could exist without the other.  Don't you see?  We are cast from the same shadow.  We are forged from the same signature.  We are forever intertwined, you and I."
     And the organ rang out.
     And the baby cried again.

     And I made a sign of the cross.

Written by:  Deevious 

Just what are we capable of?
I would like to think that we, as humans, are born basically good.  That evil is an after thought.  
Perhaps each of us is a little bit of good and evil;
a little bit of both the light and the darkness;
a bit of sweet and sour;
a little bit of Jekyll and Hyde. 

Your thoughts?

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

The Voices

I cannot hear you over the sound of my crazy.
Perhaps we should discuss your sanity.

Image found at this blogspot

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

September Contest

*****This contest is officially closed.*****
***We have our winner.***
*Congratulations to Christie!*

Win IT.
Win the original.
Win it now and watch it before or after you see the new one in theaters.

Just be the first Creepster to answer correctly the following trivia question:

Who played Pennywise in the original IT?

Leave your name and answer below.
And, as always, please read the Contest Rules 
before you agree to participate in any of our contests.


Monday, September 11, 2017

You'll Float Too...

I heard this had one hell of a weekend at the box office.
Were you part of it, Creepsters?
What did you think about IT?
Post your comments below and let us know...


Friday, September 8, 2017

IT's Time...

Who's going to see this one?

Find image here 

Comment below if you liked it and your thoughts on it...


Thursday, September 7, 2017

Nightmares Revisited

I love this piece for many reasons - and not just because I wrote it 😁
I really like the sneak factor of this story.  
I think, at one time or another, we have all been duped - 
by some one or some thing or some circumstance. 
Hopefully not to the extent in the tale below, 
but I'm sure we all learned, rather quickly, not to be played a fool again.  
I wish Marge the same chance.
Think she'll get one?

Hook, Line, and Sinker 
Nightmare #87:

The Hook:
Marge heard herself accept Victoria’s invite.  “I guess I could stop by for a minute,” she told the young girl.

Victoria bounced up and down like a cheerleader being voted in as team captain.  Her dark brown curls hung large and loose around her shoulders, cupping her face like feathered hands.  “It’s gonna be the Best.  Party.  Ever.  Just you wait and see.”

Marge smiled, trying not to grit her teeth.  She mentally kicked herself for being kind to Victoria from day one; for being her mentor around the office; for sharing lunches in the cafeteria and whispering complaints about their boss and all the other frivolous chitchat they had exchanged over the last couple of months.  The last thing Marge wanted to do was make friends.  She was too old for friends.  Hell, she was four years away from retirement.  She was way too old to show up at a twenty-something party and chug fruity umbrella-drinks and listen to the endless banter of the young.  Marge knew she would have nothing in common with Victoria outside the office.  She knew the conversation would be strained and just downright exhausting, absolutely sure it would center on stupid shit like the newest phone App or the latest barroom hookup.  Marge knew this party would be a mistake. 

But she didn’t understand how big of a mistake.

“Just call and cancel,” she told her wrinkled reflection in the bathroom mirror.  “Just tell her something came up with the family.”  Marge chuckled.  Nothing ever came up with the family, well, not these days.  Her son and daughter were off making their own family memories, each married with children of their own.  Yep, these days, no one needed Marge.  No one came to visit.  No one called to talk, unless it was her birthday or a holiday.  Then - and only then - would a visitation occur or maybe a phone conversation happen, only to end just as soon as it started, with a hurried tone of a busy life. 

Marge shuffled into the bedroom and took a seat on the edge of her lonely bed.  She stared at the framed picture - a wedding photo from another lifetime.  She picked it up, studied it - as if for the first time - and allowed her tears to fall.  “Damn it, Victor.  I just did my make-up.”  She managed a smile, and unknowingly, slid her fingers over his face with a sigh. 

It still hurt as bad as the day he left.  The ache never goes away, not really.   Maybe if he had been a son-of-a-bitch with a bad temper or a drinking problem.  But no, not Victor, he was a good man.  He was a good man with a good heart and he was taken before his time.
Time, the bitch that it is, never healed any of her wounds as it claimed it could.  But Time did take Victor from her.  The doctors called it cancer, but she knew who to blame.  Time was like a little disobedient child - spoiled rotten - and would never rest till it had its way.  It took Victor from her, and although the years have passed quickly - they always do after thirty - her heart was as wrinkled as her face, so shriveled up from heartbreak that if it was torn out of her chest it would emulate a raisin.  Maybe if it was torn from her chest she wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.  She wouldn’t have to face the disappointment when her children broke plans and promises with her; she wouldn’t have to think about her other son – the one whom Time took at birth; she wouldn’t have to worry about the mound of hospital bills that still rolled in through her mailbox every couple of months from Victor’s treatments, so many years ago; she wouldn’t have to remember how he had opened his eyes that last time – eyes filled with excruciating pain – just to give her a wink, just like he had years before on their first date.  She had given him a wink back, tears flowing from her own tired eyes, knowing it was over.  “Don’t you leave me, Vic," she had pleaded with him.  "Don’t you dare leave me alone.”

He softly shushed her, that cold hospital room sending chills over her body.  “I’ll be waiting for you, Margie.  I’ll save you a good seat.”

This had made her laugh, giggle even. 

Then, he was gone. 

Just like that.


Like a snap of the fingers.

She had held onto him until his body went cold;  until the hospital staff all but peeled her off him and pulled her out of the room and ordered her to go home.

“What home?” she now whispered, looking around the empty room.

She stood up abruptly and stormed back into the bathroom to reapply her mascara.  She would go to this party.  She would stay for a little while and make nice with the other guests.   She would do it because she told Victoria she would, and she never broke her promises.  And so what if she was forty years older?  It might actually do the retired housemother some good to get out and mingle with the youth of today.  Shake it up a bit, allow herself to be entertained with their wild stories of irresponsible splendor; of their cavalier ways and that nostalgic “the –world-still-owes-me something” mentality.  Plus, she kind of liked the girl.

And she loved her name.

Loved calling her Vic.

Loved hearing it roll off her tongue in public again.

“It'll be a hoot,” she assured herself, checking her upper teeth for lipstick stains.  With a new found determination to become more social, Marge grabbed up her purse and slammed the front door behind her.

And Sinker:
“Hurry.  It’s almost time,” her voice was strained with panic.

“I’m moving as fast as I can, Vic,” a male voice yelled.

“We need to feed it now,” she yelled back.

Marge could hear their voices but couldn’t seem to wake up.

Wake up?

Where was she that she couldn’t wake up?



Ah, yes, the party.

She was terribly hungry, and although not a scrap of food was offered to the party guests, it was a nice welcome.  From what Marge was remembering, Victoria was extremely kind to her, parading the retired housewife and mother - now office manager at a non-profit organization - around the house and out back to the spacious deck, introducing her to everyone as her favorite co-worker at the office.  It flattered Marge to be spoken to with such regard; she actually craved the attention, shockingly unaware at how long it had been since she was the center of anyone’s attention.  She smiled warmly at every introduction, extending her hand and greedily accepting their approval.  Victoria never once left her side, and Marge loved the young girl for that.  And even though there was no food to be had, the drinks were marvelous and Marge had to keep reminding herself to drink slower because she would eventually have to drive home.  Plus, she didn’t want to be that old fool who couldn’t handle her drink and passed out at the party.  She didn’t want to become the brunt of a bad joke next week at work.  Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if they still froze your bra if you were the first to pass out.  She doubted that this crowd was the sort to gang up on some worn-out housewife near the end of her career.  Yet, something felt wrong…

Her head hurt.  Hurt something terrible. 

It had to be that last drink.  Remember how it bubbled up?  It was delicious, tasted like strawberries and peaches and she loved the way the fizz had tickled her nose, making her sneeze.  Then, that was it.  That was all she could remember.

Now, Marge heard a rumble underneath her. 

What the hell?

Her eyelids fluttered. 

“She’s moving,” a man’s voice barked near her ear.

“Nothing you can do about it now,” Victoria hollered, the same panic in her voice now rising higher in her throat.  “Get outta there!”

Marge’s eyes popped open, and even though her head was fuzzy her vision was not.  She could see clearly the bright blue pegs she was attached to.  Her legs were crossed and tied at the ankles and her arms were outstretched; the ropes at her wrists tied to the pegs.  Her body formed the letter Y and for one brief moment she chuckled, half-expecting to find three other bodies beside her in the shapes of an M, C and A.   Maybe the alcohol was still having its way with her.
She mumbled for Victoria, her voice far from audible.  She struggled to free her hands, maybe her feet, but she couldn't budge them.  She tried picking up her head - it was terribly heavy - but she forced herself to move it.  She could see her young co-worker and the others watching anxiously from the back deck, like a group of on-lookers awaiting a fireworks display.

Another rumble erupted underneath her.  It was so strong that the ground began to shatter like a broken windshield; its grass facade fragmented into clusters.  Through the cracks, tiny worms began to seep out – not just a few, like after a hard rain - but hundreds of them.  She had never seen so many worms in her whole lifetime.  They began to jump and dive from one crevice to the next, like mini-dolphins at sea, springing back and forth across Marge’s body.  She held her breath, looking confused and accusingly at Victoria and her new group of supposed friends.  Most turned away from her glare.  Victoria, bolder than the rest – and obviously in charge of the spectacle - smirked at the older woman.

“It’ll be quick, Marge.  I promise you.”  As she spoke, her voice gained confidence and strength.  “Just close your eyes and relax.  The more you struggle, the more it’ll hurt.”

Marge wasn’t as angry as she was afraid.  And she wasn’t afraid of dying, oh my no.  She had come to terms with that idea years ago.  She believed that dying  would be its own reunion party, one where she would meet up with Victor and their son and her parents.  To Marge, it was if they were all at some big Gala in the sky and she was merely awaiting her lost invitation in the mail.  Truth be told, she welcomed death; wanted to be rid of Time once and for all.  But what was bothering her now – what had always gotten her nerves in a bunch – was the way in which she would go out.  She had always feared the worst, like a slow, labored fight with cancer, or a heart-attack while driving, maybe even an unsuspecting blood-clot during her evening bath.  But never once could she have imagined this - whatever this would be.  Never once would she have fathomed this kind of ending.

“What is happening, Vic?” she all but cried from the ground.  “What are these things?”

Victoria shushed the old woman.  “Keep quiet, and very still.”

Marge’s skin was crawling with goose bumps, but in her mind she believed it to be the hundreds of  worms dancing and leaping about her.  “What are they?” she yelled out again, demanding an answer. 

“That’s my pet,” she heard Victoria announce with pride.  And as if on cue, the army of worms that spun over top of Marge’s body dropped.  Most fell to the ground.  Some of them, Marge could feel wiggle over her clothing or about her arms, searching for the others.  Then, the group of worms began to fuse together forming one huge unit.  The army of worms were now an army of one.
And a big one at that.

Marge gasped, unable to believe what had just formed in front of her.  She squeezed back a whimper and all but ripped her arms and legs from their sockets trying to escape.  She tried over and over again to free herself, but it was in vain.

The massive snake-like creature slithered to the end of Marge’s feet.  A tiny cup of a mouth at its one end opened, and opened, and opened wider.  It's feeding hole grew large, almost as round as her grandmother's serving dish.  It began its feast at Marge’s feet and in one swallow had engulfed both of her legs – and the blue peg – up to her knees.

She screamed, the acid from its mouth burning her skin.  It was like being attacked by an anaconda in the middle of someone’s backyard.  She could feel her heart as it threw itself against the inside of her chest over and over again.  Perhaps a heart-attack would get her before this beastly thing could devour her whole.  Maybe it would all be over quickly.  Then, she remembered Time.  That old friend was back and would not allow her the comfort of a fast death.  She knew Time was out to get her – just like it’s out to get all of us – and that it would not be gracious.

She decided to take Victoria’s advice.  She closed her eyes. 

Shut them up tight. 

Real tight.

Cleared her head of the nastiness that was happening to her body - the wretched gulping noise as she was being devoured; that horrible burning from the creature’s mouth; her heart struggling to keep up and her lungs gasping for breath.  Instead, she focused only on her memories.  She fixated only on those eyes…Victor’s tired eyes, and his boyhood wink, and his bright smile, and those calming words….”I’ll save you a good seat.” 

After all, it isn’t how we leave this world that we need to focus on, she reminded herself, it’s who’s waiting on the other side.  And somewhere in her thoughts, her focus faded into an amazing hue of golden wheat yellow, like a field in autumn, and with a light so bright it was blinding.  She walked slowly forward, shadows and shapes eventually coming into vision.   The figures of her family, of those who had gone before her, came into view.  They had all been waiting for her.  

Victor gave her a big smile.  And right beside him – just as he had promised her – was a chair.  It was a beautiful chair too.  Burgundy in color with gold etching that glowed bright.  It had a high back that curved towards the top and angled in at the sides.  It was a wing chair of the most elaborate proportions.  Victor patted the cushioned seat and gave her a wink.

The End
by: Deevious