good people

 Hello my name is not Duncan, but for now, it will do, I was  sitting at my desk writing my tale about my sweet little pebbles, my childhood dog a miniature schnauzer 

  “They told me she was sick, that once they took her to the vet that I would never see her again, I spent the whole day with her, I was able to feed her anything she and I wanted; we played with all her toys but mostly I spent the whole day holding her,  I was going to lose my only friend. My uncle told me that she was going to be sent to a farm, a special one for dogs, where she would be happy always and I should be happy for her because she was no longer going to be in pain.  I spent that first night crying myself to sleep then and then again the next night and again once more, I stopped because one night I felt a cold nose on my face followed by doggie kisses, a new puppy, no it was pebbles her tail was wagging so happy to see me, she must have gotten better so I thought, it was the only explanation my youthful mind could think of. Though I was upset at my parents it was kinda mean to not tell me, but I was so happy she was back.”
 
I stopped in mid-sentence, a thought just popped in my head, you know the kind that will just stay with you no matter how hard you try and shake it loose. I realized that in my last tale   I had mentioned that my life was saved by one from the natural world    (the world of spirits and such)  this, of course, was a story for another time right, sigh, nope no matter how hard I tried to go back to writing about my little Pebbles... no such luck from then on all I could think of were those blue eyes and whom they belonged to.  This is a tale of how I owe my life to one that was not among the living.
 
Before I start I want to say in my youthful days I believed that people  are indeed good that everyone can change that who we were will not be the people we grow up to be; and to be honest I am happy to say that I am mostly right, but since you are reading this that I am not completely right or I would not have a story to tell, as I said before every world has its jerks; and these jerks were out for my blood. (as said in hat man)
 
Let me  paint you a picture of my life at this time, I was living large I was young and had moved to the big city from my tiny town, I had just finished my first year of  A. Cooper  community colleague, I was taking the arts and sciences; I was a top grade student,  I had money in my pocket, my first job, a local pizza place  just fifteen minutes from where I  was living, and you should have seen where I was living, in this old fashioned home I swear four floors,  me and each of my cool building mates nearly had our own floor, (about three to a floor, I had only had one  other on my floor) the best part, I was head over heels in love with my floor mate  and he many times told me the same thing,  David the love of my life,   he was my soul mate and I didn’t care who knew it, for the first time in my life I was not scared of people finding out, nor was I ashamed that I was in love with another man, as long as David was standing by my side I could take on the world and I wanted to make this  statement as loud and clear as I can. And I knew how. 
The parade was becoming more acceptable as time went on, it had its detractors and  a few jerks that showed up but nothing horrible I mean I lived in a country where something as who feel in love with who was no bother to anyone, so I had thought.
This was going to be my moment this was my time as I marched forward I would be walking out of the closet, I was feeling tall, feeling proud.  I took great pride with every footstep I took,  I felt free, I felt free to  take cover as a beer can whiz past my head I heard “Hey look, look I was right, little  Dunken Balls is a fag, I called it.”   I knew that voice, it belonged to  a jerk in high school name Drake  back then it was his life’s mission to make my life a living hell getting his friends involved in the fun was icing on the cake for him, one time they chained me naked to the girls locker room door, writing words faggot, freak, and so on. When I turned   my head to confirm it was them, I found myself ducking another beer can “The fag can move I will give him that”  Another beer can was lobbed at me,  looking at them I was not angry, I kinda felt sorry for them, they were still wearing our high school football team jackets, none of them were good enough to get scholarship though they were some of the schools best. It’s sad to see people like them stuck in high school.  I quickly dodge another  can some of it striking  me  putting me off my balance,  where  these cans  still full,  the last can hit me on the side of my face confirming it, sending me crumbling down to the ground, (what a waste of beer).
The world was spinning around me no one was helping me, why; someone please help me I couldn’t look up at them, I was frozen in fear and pain, all I could hear was their laughter. And then drakes voice saying  “Now on the count of three all at once,” I thought I was going to die as I heard him count down, then silence, had someone  stopped  them, had someone come to my rescue, this was  confirmed by a booming deep voice like thunder  .“What the fuck do you think you’re doing” I recognized that voice,  belonging  to Marcus the nearly seven-foot star running back, err defensive tackle  er tight end? (sorry, I don’t know anything about the art of sport)  of our high school football team, the  Perseus high Gorgon Slayers. I was very great full but a bit confused he was one of those who tormented me  back in the day “Leave him alone.  He had to put up with our bullshit through high school he does not need it now.” He aggressively moved towards them, I could see why anyone who found himself with the ball would have to fight hard not to wet themselves at his approach
“Today he has taken a lot of courage for him to do, what  he is doing. What he does not need are little pricks,  who think they’re still in high school, acting the part now run along and PISS OFF”  This got everyone’s attention  not just those who were marching,  not Those who came to cheer or protest, but those of the media whom came for one story and were now getting another,  A story of a bully was wetting himself (right down his pant leg) as one of the top pro prospects was chasing him and his friends off.
You figured nothing but good could have come from this, it didn’t (it was a different time) my hero lost his scholarship for doing the right  thing, he was able to find another college to accept him, and there is a chance because of his stance he  might not be able to go pro.  As for me,  David left me, he was still in the closet, and he was not ready to come out, and just the fact I was marching openly made him scared  that people might figure it out. The man that made me feel strong, that I could be bulletproof, had left me because people would know that he loved me. As for my tormentors, this was not the last time I saw them, they made sure of it, somehow they figured out where I worked, where I lived,  who were my friends and family;  sending out letters telling everyone, outing me.  As for my days at work they spent those  days  harassing  me, the customers, and doing the odd bit of property damage  when my boss found out the reasons  why they were doing this.  Did he call the cops, did he chase them off, no; he fired me.  Saying  “I’m sorry, but customers bring their children  here and with your lifestyle choice, I have to think of their safety you have to go  but I want you to know that I will  pray for your soul with the hopes you will find you way to Jesus and he will help you move  away from this sinful life, you have  chosen”   All I wanted to do at that moment  was to head home, put my head under my pillow and scream, the worse was finally done and over  with, so I thought.  When I got home I found my belongings, left outside sitting on the sidewalk, with a sign on my now broken desk that read “We don’t live with fags, fag off”  I looked up at the window to see David looking down at me,  not saying anything, this was not a fight I wanted  to fight, I was broken, I had no job, no home, what I had that was not stolen, was broken.  What hurt worse was seeing David watch me walk away, wiping  away me tears, this was the last time I saw David.  Expecting more bad to come my way, I made a plan.  I figured I would take the money that I had saved up and use it on a cheap motel good enough to last me a few months  if I really stretched it,  and the rest I would use to Drown my Sorrows at the Bottom of a Bottle, it was the name of the local pub, but it was good advice, before I could get to my third drink (or was it my fifth)  I heard, that deep voice  “That bad huh”  it was Marcus, it took everything I had not to break down crying when I told him everything that happened.  He did not look all too pleased. We spent the rest of the day  drinking when I worked up the courage to thank him but asking him, as well as aking why he stood up for me, becaue of our our shared past with me being his door mat back in the day. He sighed and explained  “High school was not all too long ago, I wish it was, but I can’t look back and not feel shame, you see my father was my hero back in his day he would be the first one to stand up for anyone being preyed upon, nothing made him sicker than a bully I saw that in his eyes when he talked about it,  the way he looked at me when a teacher informed him what I was doing to you.” He paused “I never felt so small, pathetic, weak in my life, seeing him look at me like that, and he was right. I didn’t know how to make things right, so I simply left you alone back then and when I saw you again and… well, this time, I was going to be the man my father would have been proud of." He smilled poudly  "As for going pro I don’t care if I do or not. My grades are strong enough  I can do more than chase a ball around, I want to follow in my father’s footsteps ”  That was really cool of him, he even called me out when I told him I was staying at friends place, he knew I was lying, he offered me a spare room at his place, he even went as far as to help me get a job at his uncles  used car lot, 
Marcus walked me to his, or to our place, on the way there  we passed an old graveyard, I would have to pass it every day on my way to work and on the way back. I noted that Marcus was looking everywhere but at it. I turned my head to get a better look at, an end of the century graveyard I could barely see in,  I could just see  cold outlines standing before a group of gravestones, shadows without people. They seemed to be moving towards me I looked away quickly, looking back at Marcus and then back into the graveyard expecting them to be gone, they were not, the best I could do or think of doing was to weakly wave hello. I looked back to Marcus “You looked into the graveyard didn’t you, don’t look into the graveyard” There was something in his voice a sadness.
 
You know in any horror story when  the main character is perfectly safe and things are finally are going the  main characters way, the audience knows different but all they can do is wait until the other shoe drops unable to tell that character to run. I was that main character. Things were going to get worse. But at the time I  was once more employed,  I had a new housemate that knew about me and didn’t care. And the worse thing in my life at the moment was having to pass a haunted  graveyard every day on my way to and from work, not the worst thing  ever, as each day I could not help but glimpse into the graveyard to see the outlines and like every day I would wave and at times shout hello. Not trying to be a jerk, but I thought there was no need to be rude either. I did note at times before I would wave they seemed angry, their movements were frantic, sharp  as they stood before their gravestones  Again these could just be mourners angry at the loss of their loved ones.   The other shoe finally dropped, it happened on my way home from work “Hey it’s the fag wonder of the world” Oh fuck a duck it was them.  “We have been looking for you fag boy”  they had found me it was bad enough that they went out of their way to turn my happy life upside down now that they  seemed all too ready to do it again. Maybe it was just bad luck on my part, I was able to lose them, hoping to never see them again but next Friday on the way home “Dunken  balls” the voice sung out “Were going to make you pay, you fagot” They were holding a grudge against me for what happened  at the parade, Drake did wet self on tv after all.  With each day  I saw them, it was harder and hard to lose them; I knew once I got home I would be safe. They followed me right to my door once, only to leave running for dear life as Marcus charged out after them.  The only problem was  getting home to  safety. They were getting as good me of knowing the area, we all knew it like the back of our hands, not good for me I was out numbered.  Which means I would only have one place to run to where we would be on equal footing the old graveyard; on my day off I paid a visit, I slipped in  without anyone noticing  me, I needed to know my way around if I were to use it to escape. The last thing I wanted was to get lost when running for my  life.   I spent hours walking around in circles memorizing every crack every turn,  The biggest landmarks were the little memorials, built into the yard each one built  for privacy for anyone coming to visit. As I made my way around I felt a cold finger running down the back of my neck, whispers; many voices  were not talking to me, but about me  to each other, they did not seem all to happy. I think I might have outstayed my welcome, On my way out I noted that someone  had placed flowers at one of the tombstones, but it seemed as if someone had torn them up I noted  that any and all memorials to loved ones had been destroyed.  That bothered me a little, but I had my escape route all planned out no need to ever come back unless I need to right? Nope, all week  the feelings I had about those flowers seemed to stay with me,  so my next day off I paid another visit to the cemetery because I did not overstay my visit  the last time.   I bought as many flowers as I could visiting each tombstone that had  a destroyed memorial.  I tried my best to quick fix anything that could be salvaged placing them back where they should have been and then adding a flower to it “Excuse me, may I ask what you are doing” I nearly jumped out of my skin, (don’t laugh I’ve seen it happen) a man standing in what I think was a military uniform or a police uniform I’m not sure I don’t really recognize it, My first thought was oh great  now I’m going to get arrested for trespassing, I didn’t want to be smart ass but the first thing that pops out of my mouth  “um placing flowers, heh heh” He had such pale brown eyes. “Do you know my Lilly,” He asked. His voice,  a tad  fragile as if it was hard to speak. Fear of being arrested turned to a feeling of... feeling like a jerk, looking at the grave I just placed flowers on, Lilly Adams resting place for a loving mother and wife   “No sir, I don’t but the last time I was here” I looked to the ones I had yet to place flowers on “It just seemed like the right thing to do”  The uniformed man's eyes followed mine and then back to the flowers in my hands “White lilies”  He chuckled “She will love them, thank you”      For the rest of the week I felt like an idiot preparing for something that seemed like was not going to happen, I thought they had forgotten about me, and for that one week I was not happy but I was no longer miserable I was recovering. Then that day, that one day,  I was walking home from work  when I heard “Hey drunken”  I spin around their he was walking towards me, I look at his friends are halfway between me and any escape. Leaving only the graveyard the last place I wanted to go, I had no choice the asshole picked up a bottle from the ground, a wicked a smile on his face, this was more than a beating he was planning  on  giving me…  They laughed as I made my way into the cemetery, They weren’t really chasing me but simply taking their time, I was scared (an understatement to say the least) I was tripping over myself, barely able to pick myself up again and then falling over again,  Without thinking I leapt over a hedge hoping to jump out of site, I landed on my face, I bit down on my lip to keep myself screaming out in shock, as my nose oozed out blood. I sat up hugging the hedge “Please don’t see me, please don’t see me” I kept saying over and over. When I looked up to see Mr. Adams  sitting in his uniform  with his hands on his lap, I had fallen into a memorial for fallen police officers,   several tombstones lined up. First I interrupted his thoughts to his wife now it seems I am trampling on his moment of silence for his fallen friends what a guy I turned out to be  “ I am sorry sir, to interrupt you in a time like this I have nothing but respect for you and your friends, but please can I stay here a bit longer, please”  It was easy to hear the fear in my voice, and the voices that caused it  I could hear their voices “Hey faaaagit… faaaaaagit were going to beat you, until you like it, Then you are dead” One of them laughed out loud “Coming here was a bad idea this place belongs to me and my boys” Drake boasted , that could explain the damaged memorials for the loved ones I found and fixed (as best as I could) Mr. Adams seemed to hear it but didn’t really move, he looked at me, for a few seconds, smiled at me  he motioned with his eyes to another opening,  his lips held a gentle smile and he motioned me to run.  I did as I was told. I took off  looking behind me to see him walking towards them what  I also noticed on one of the gravestones was the name... Adams.
 
After that day I was never attacked or ever saw them again, (No one did)  I managed to get back home, Marcus was reading, he saw how pale I was, I told him everything, as I was talking a mile away, someone walked in, to see if everything was all right one of Marcus’s friends,  his name was Tom, a cop at the time.  As I described the uniform, Tom told me that was an old police uniform, I stopped talking my eyes went wide as I saw what was looking back at me,  The eyes of Mr. Adams from a picture, he was wearing his uniform, it was from a newspaper it read Memorial for hero cop. The caption under the picture read as seen here with his wife Lilly.

 

a theory

Hello my name is not Duncan, but it will do for now. I want answer one question that has not been asked, but it might be one day. How can I see those of the natural world the spirit world, I can talk with them, touch them, befriend them almost anything I can do with the living I can mostly do with them, how ? why?

Why?  I have no idea

How?  on the how I do have a theory, probably a lot more complicated then i realize and less simpler then what I am about to say.

On the day i was born, I died, not even a day old and my life came to a halt, for a minutes I lay without a pulse with machines breathing life into my small frail body, only for miracles of miracles I regained life and i think maybe a connection of life and death in such short notice might have given me a better eye for the natural world then most. Might explain why I find myself constantly... living an interesting life

As for why, I hope I never find out why. i think there are answers to reality and existence that we do not need to know, that knowing can change the very fabric of what we are. I for one am happy with my place and species in the universe and I for one just wish to enjoy existence while it lasts 

HAT MAN

Hello, my name is not Duncan, but for now, it will do. I do have to apologize I had hoped to write my first story about my childhood pet, I think it was going to be a good one I had it all planned out, but something else got my attention forcing me to work on this instead. This was the last thing I wanted to start with.  Please believe me,  when I made the claim that most of my experiences with the natural world had been pleasant and had been good, in some cases my life has been saved by those of the natural world.  How do I start this whole thing off, by telling you something dark and life threatening, but to be honest I never thought I was ever going to see him again I thought I had left him behind in my childhood where things like that belong.   As you can tell I am trying to delay going further. I will admit I was lucky when it came to encountering this thing.  But because of it, I nearly lost my sister,  I am convinced that he was the source of my childhood dogs ailment, I am not confident  I can tell you this story without being scared or becoming too angry to finish.  I will do my best to explain my experience and, who or what Hat Man is.
Might as well jump in feet first with a snap introduction

No matter what culture you are from, or the area where you live; we as children have one thing in common,  we all have a boogie man, in fact, a lot of areas in the same country have their own figure lurking in the dark ready to come out after us for one reason or the other. Most regions, states, provinces,  small neighborhoods have their own dark creatures  born  from  urban legends  to ancient myths being born  of those many  cultures, I am not an expert in cultural affairs,  However I would think no matter our age or culture, as children we have our own generation culture,  creating our  own things that go bump into in the night.  I was like any other kid part of my own culture I had my own boogie man, just as my sister had her own skull face creepy Corner Voyager (another story for another time) other kids may have things that follow them home, things that live in the closet or under their bed (which could be a good thing as said before, another story for another time) For me and the kids at my school, had Hat Man. Not the most terrifying of names nor the cleverest, but we were children.
Things that seem to scare us as children sometimes  do stay with us, but are ultimately  forgotten and laughed at when remembered (mostly) as adults we find different things to be scared of.  I doubt when I tell you about Hat man you’re going to be scared unless of course you had the displeasure of being part of that youth culture that had him as their boogie man.
I would like to point out one thing before I really start and, to be honest,  I am not sure if this is the case with my Hat Man but the one thing we (the living world) have in common with the natural world (the world of the spirits and ghosts etc…ect) there are jerks in every world, it’s a universal truth. For melodramatic purposes, I’m going to call them (wait for it…wait for it…) dark spirits.  One of the things they love is our myths, stories, and urban legends,  at times they use them to give themselves form, flesh, blood, an unnatural life. Why to at best;  troll us;  and at  worse, to do us harm, bringing fiction, myth, and half-truths to life, just to torment and harm us ( as said before; Jerks.)  The targets of these jerks are mostly children they are more prone to the natural world, then adults; what is the strongest of all nightmare fuel; a child’s imagination.  If your child or a child you know starts talking about something that sounds  silly to you, but is scaring  him or her  it could be a boogie man or a dark spirit, either way, please take them mostly serious (still a chance it could be their imagination)   I have delayed enough. Hat Man is called such, because of his hat (no surprise there), in my children’s culture, Hat Man went after kids that were rude, misbehaved, caused trouble, had poor grades and was messy. Kids at my school had stories of encounters with it during the night. Hat Man would come to your bedroom in the middle of the night to give you a warning. A total of three warnings and upon the fourth visit he would swallow you whole and then spit you out leaving you a blank.  I am not sure what that meant some kids at school thought it would mean eating everything inside you and spiting you out as an empty shell, like a peanut, some other kids thought you would be unable to think for yourself that everything that made you; you;that someone  or anyone could refill you with the things they want you to be, and you would accept it, becoming a whole new person.  This was the theory about Hat Man as an adult when I think about it I’m still not sure what it means.  All I know it means to be blank, to be empty, to be here, but to be completely gone.  I  have no wish  to give it any more thought.
 Just remembering seeing those large pale green eyes is enough to bring childhood fears back, when you are a child anyone bigger then you was quite intimidating even an average size man or woman would be big enough. Hat man was no exception he was oddly enough an average size man but almost everything else about him was too large for an average size man. His large green pale eyes were too big for his head, his mouth and his lips went past his face, his teeth were jagged and yellow as he smiled at you, his hands were oversized. As  said before not very scary for an adult but for child with his large sharp pointing ears and his long  large nose; with a strange symbol on it were quite terrifying, but the one thing  I was most scared of was his head, the top of his head was oversized, upon  his head rested a top hat, what laid under it,  a second mouth, circular in shape; teeth sharp pointy all the way down, he would pick up a child with one hand while removing the hat hanging the child upside down looking the child in the face talking to the child  before hanging him or her over its second mouth while he talked to them either to give them a warning or to finish the fourth visit.  The mouth would open up to reveal; sometimes a child inside, being made into a blank or being readied to become a blank, other times  remnants of what he took  slowly being digested,  enough to scare the crap out of any kid.
Just seeing him was enough for me, yea I saw him, it was a time in my life when I was starting high school.  Those who were in danger of hat man were from grades six to ten, I met him later in my youth. Now I refer to myself as the kid back then, but if you had called me such a thing in my youth I would get all mad claiming to be a young adult and not some child or kid to be told what to do, you know a typical kid reaction.   During this time my grades were not the best, to say the least,  my attentions were being spread thin a good portion of that was placed on the opposite sex  and why they had become more pleasant to me  in ways I  never thought of before, hell I even discovered things I could do with those of the same gender confusing yes but very delightful .  So yea my grades were down, I was a mess of hormones which did not make me the most pleasant of people to be around and I was just plain messy (still am)
Why would a creature of darkness care about any of that, why would our Hat man target such children, you see I am from  a small town I would give you its name but I doubt you would have ever heard of it, but the high school I attended was built from the town's old school house, closed and all but forgotten, for some reasons unknown to us instead of tearing down  the school house they built the school around it, the cellar of the old school house was locked  and sealed tight.  This, of course, was believed to be the home Hat man. He was thought to be a teacher from the 1900’s one Robert Holmes who was obsessed with order and education, students that had order in their lives were good students, good people and would grow up to be members of a proper  and productive  society , and to become all that, all one would need in their lives was discipline and order. Robert went out of his way to  make sure this happened, if the students failed or refused to follow his instructions  on how to behave not just in his school, but in their private lives, he had creative ways of disciplining them until they conformed. for the most part, this did not bother the parents of the time, they too wanted their children to behave in a manner  in which  society deemed proper and right, so their kids could one day grow up to become productive members of society, plus every child that was in his class went on to great things and have great careers improving the status of the family. And that's all that mattered. 
 Robert found himself respect, power and now holding quite the bit of influence  within town, Robert became boastful and arrogant because he had become an authority figure he became, a decision maker for the town. He was given the title of The Great Educator by his supporters. Though  not everyone approved of him, some did voice their concerns about his methods being cruel and humiliating.  His detractors claimed he had a second mouth that he ate with because his head had become so fat. This bothered Robert to no end till he started to wear a top hat to try and hide what he thought was his oversize head.  Those with concerns were unable to act because they were a minority on the issue, the issue which the majority called minor and foolish concerns, dismissing them.  
This all changed when a willful student moved to town, Ms. Austin Seward, a very willful youth from England. She said what she thought and acted as she did, she wore risky clothing for the time, she drank, she smoked and was very vocal in woman’s rights, she had male friends whom were not suitors and would carry on with them. To make things worse, she was a great student when it  came to her grades, always aces. Robert saw this as a challenge to his authority and methods. She needed to be stopped and made an example of.   That’s what the story would say giving us no examples, something told me, we as kids only knew the watered down version of the story. The story said, in fact,  he would try his methods to  try and discipline her, and try to change her, only to have them backfire on him again and again as she managed to stay one step ahead of him.
This drove Robert insane as he saw it, his good standing in the community vanishing before his eyes, his authority crumbling away with each time this young adult got the better of him, it was unknown even if he himself was aware that he started to be crueler towards the female students even if they lived up to his standards which lead up to a parent hitting him right in his big nose. This sent him over the edge. One night he kidnapped a bunch of students including Ms. Seward taking them down to the cellar of the school house, where he did not only kill each of her friends but dined on portions  of them, each time asking   “You are going to be a proper lady now.” It didn’t matter what she said he would killer another and dine on another.  This did not end well for Ms. Seward but what the so-called Great Educator did not know was this child had a connection  to the natural world, she had a way with animals like no one else had ever seen before, when Robert took her life, her animal friends took acceptation, taunting, and tormenting, and harming him the best they could. Robert could not go anywhere without being attacked by animals, cats would hiss and scratch, dogs bite and chase, birds of all sizes would dive down at  him with beak or talons on the ready to grab at him,
The townspeople thought this to be strange but they had much more on their minds as they were still searching for their missing children never expecting that it was the man they called the Great Educator; Robert Holmes, that was until one day a pack of wolves followed him into town, the authorities gathered to get rid of these beasts, only to find that the wolfs had dug up the bodies of half eaten children up from around the school house. Robert tried to blame it on the wolves but one, thing, wolves do not bury their food.  Before the people could let their anger take control, Robert fled to the school, a theory is that by now his sanity was gone and he had retreated to the one place where he had authority and power over others,  as they could do him no harm behind those walls.  Now this is small nit-pick I have with this old story it seems that somehow the cellar door was opened and in his state of mind, he did not notice as he fell into it, which lead him to his demise.This does  explain why I never found my way into his second mouth nor did I ever get a second warning.  Was it because I became a great student and turned my life around, well no thanks to him (but I did), today I have a great job, a loving husband (deal with it), a cute as pie cat name Lou,  I and Tom are even talking about adopting.
The reason why Hat Man never got his hands on me a second time; because the rules of sway.  Every boogie man (among creatures of all sorts)  have rules that  they  follow for reasons he or she may not know, mostly these rules were created by them in some fashion while they were alive which followed them to their graves, their strengths and powers based on their beliefs. Their weakness  and fears based on the same concept and what Hat Man hated and feared where females of any age to even hear a baby girl laugh was a torment to him, the other thing he was terrified of was animals, mostly birds, cats and dogs pets friends to humans as well as other species of the kind. I hope you see what I am getting at.  In his mind, a woman destroyed his life while animals tormented him and ultimately killed him. When he had his hands on me lifting me off the ground the fear burning inside of me keeping me quite, he hung me upside down bringing him closer to his face, his lips formed a smile I could see his disgusting teeth before he could say anything my big sister came charging in, she had just came home from baseball practice; with bat still in hand, good news for me, as his oversized head was too much of target not to swing at.  He let out a shriek of anger before vanishing leaving a small green stain of decay and mold.  The only sign or proof he was ever in the house.  We called our parents (No higher authority to a child) our parents then called the police no one really believed us that it was the shock of the break in that made us see things like this, I could understand them not believing me I was a child but my big sister I mean she was nearly out of high school I mean wow, again they said it must of have been the shock of seeing her younger brother in danger that clouded her memory to create such a thing. After that, my sister insisted moving into my room every night sleeping with a baseball bat in hand. I only heard maybe three times her jumping out of bed as If chasing something away. When asked she would say it was nothing and to go back to bed.  Though I was scared I was happy, having fun; my big sister was sleeping over we would talk  about all kinds of things before going to sleep, which lead me to come out to her. She had many questions, and many more when I told her about my boyfriend.  She seemed happy that I was comfortable with myself and was able to fall in love and was able to find someone who could fall in love with me.  She even told me she was seeing someone as well, this was great, we were even allowed to have our dog  sleep in the room with us, our dog was a huge Dalmatian, Allison, Alley for short.
One day my sister had an accident she fell down the stairs, hurting herself bad enough to have stay at the hospital, she claimed it felt as if someone pushed her. That night I was to be alone, this is when you think things would get worse for me. This would be the end.

I was curled up in the corner scared out of my mind, as Hat man slowly moved towards me taking his time, his raspy voice told me this had been a long time coming and I was finally going to be put in my place, a  loud growl came from behind it, he turned his head to see Alley with her teeth out, the fur on the back of her neck standing on end, it seems he did not know I had a dog, he let a shriek as Alley went at him with full forces, her teeth sunk right into his arm, hand and face. I swear I saw Hat Man lose size he got smaller and smaller every time Alley brought her teeth into him.   With each time she bit down on him green oozed out of him. He vanished when my parents came home from visiting my sister (It was a school night I couldn’t go to see her) they found me curled up in the corner sleeping with Alley standing guard over me.  When she first heard them, she let out small but deep growl until she realized who they were.
Just like before women and animals were Hat Mans downfall you see he did not get into the cellar completely by himself, as  the story goes, a strange mysterious  young woman pale white, cold  was seen leaving the school blood dripping from her hand she stopped looking back at those townspeople that first arrived at the school and said “I punched him in his big nose” then giggling; she walked away vanishing. To this day, everyone claims the spirit of my Seward had come back from the grave to avenge her death.  So there laid Robert on his back just being punched so hard in the nose it sent him falling downward into the cellar. I wonder if he was screaming  and cursing about his revenge or was he too busy screaming in fear as a pack of wolves followed by dogs, cats (and other felines from the area) along with birds came charging down through the cellar ripping him apart.  
A new school was built on the other side of town, why; claims where the town was going through a big enough population growth to warrant a full school, they named it Saint Seward’s; the schools symbol was a pack of wolves. The old school house was closed and the cellar was sealed shut this was a good enough grave for The Not So Great Educator. As someone wrote in red paint over the cellar door.

What does this have to do with me not giving a heartwarming story about a boy and his dog, which scared those around him, but leaving the boy untouched? Simple last night when I sat at my keyboard trying to fight writers block trying to figure out how I am going to tell you this tale, when I saw it at the end of the hall gleaming at me, it eyes pale green, his hat not a top hat but wearing a fedora, this time, I could tell how his breathing became hostile he remembered me, and he was only heard to see a grudge through, his oversized smile on his lips gave me promises of torments to come,  the kind that mocked you, that said you are all alone, no big sister to protect you, no dog to coming to your rescue it just me and you.  At first, I did give a step back,  but only to grab the fist blunt object I could find and throw it, aiming at his nose, with bad aim but with the size of his head, I was able to hit him  in the eye, he gave hiss “ baaaaad boy, you are a baaaaaaad boy” I threw the second object, a statute of superman “I am not a child I am a grown man.  I didn’t need you then to tell me how to behave then I don’t need you to tell me how to behave now. PISS OFF” That was last night the green stain of decay on my hardwood floor which won’t come clean is  still the only proof of his visit.
Now  I’m wishing I’m still on bent knee trying to clean up that mess instead of this you see  I am home alone again  the husband is down in the states on business, Hatman must have thought me to be helpless,   Hat Man would want to think so   but it seems to me he needs me to be frightened to be scared because once more he was trying to take his time, once more he was trying to scare me like he did before, what he did not know was that I am not scared of him, if he was not too busy trying to savor the moment he would have seen my cat, my little cutie pie sneaking up behind him from the bookshelf with her claws scratching into the wood before she leaps off it, if  he had not been too busy he would have seen me reaching for my sisters baseball bat.  Placing it behind my back, like poetry  my computer starts to play  The end  by the doors.  And NOW (this is for ever having laid hands upon my big sister,)
And now my story has come to an end if you don’t account for the new green stains of decay on the hardwood floor,  the bat did its damage my cat whom  I am now having to keep from playing with  pieces the of corpse, helped me  she kept it at bay, At the end it was not wood nor claw that brought this monster down, but by pulling on his huge nose, hard was enough to finish him off once and for all, the nose; it came off right in my hand, he let out a shriek of pain and fear as green goo poured out of him from where his nose had been killing him as his shriveled and shrank into a small husk of a man . The good news is I think I can clean this all up before my husband can get home, he does not need to know about this.
“Honey, I’m home” Early… home early; well this is not going to be fun. “Hon” I call out “I just want you to know I don’t go looking for this sort of thing it seems, it comes looking for me” I have to go now, I have a lot of explaining to do.

 

I see ghosts

What I am about to tell you is the truth, I realize I might as well have told you this  happened to a friend of a friend of mine, but I can assure you when I tell you that I can see ghosts I am telling the truth. I know if you don’t, believe me, there is very little I can do to prove it, but if you want a good read and able to keep an open mind,
 If you believe me, thank you. Before I share my first story with you, I want to give you an introductory story.
 Hello, my name is not  Duncan but for now, it will do.  Online I like to use the handle the Great Pumpkin King I want everyone to understand how I see and understand the supernatural. There is nothing super about it, this is a side of the world as I see it, it is simply natural, a part of our world that most people do not see, and most likely don’t want to see, but this is very much a part of my everyday life and if you’re lucky (or unlucky) you will see or catch a glimpse of it. Even have an experience that will leave your heart beating faster, harder leaving you with a good story to share.

Ever had that feeling that you were being watched even though you are alone or have you ever had that chill creep down your spine, you are not alone but not in any danger, someone from the natural word just walked past you or is near. You see our world in many ways share the same space as theirs.  Now being able to see both worlds sharing one space in a way has its dangers as in the living world has the same dangers looking at the wrong person the wrong way, not looking both ways before crossing or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens.

Now, what is important when dealing with the natural world, is listening to your instincts first and your rational side second, Humans do in fact have instincts though we call them emotions fear, anger, joy etc,,etc... These instincts will hit you fast and hard so will need to react quickly before your rational side takes over. You must remember the first feeling, and then let your rational side guide you or tell you how to use your instincts If you feel fear then there is a good chance you are in danger if you feel fear for someone else they could be in danger from the natural world. If you feel angry it’s your instincts telling you to take an aggressive stance (Your life might depend on it).

On the other side of that coin, if you feel happy even joyous they are to be welcomed, if you feel sadness weep for them let them know that they are still grieved for  (be careful sadness can be just as dangerous as fear). Remember follow your instincts. They will show you where to look, if you do, the worst thing that might happen is… you might see them, you might hear them, but, on the other hand, you may go your whole life without having  an experience. Having a natural experience is one that is out of you control and finding yourself having to react properly and promptly. In my life, I have come to realize. In the long run, I have more good experiences than bad. I see them as much as everyone else dose.