The Alphabet, by Edward Gorey

Let me be clear, I did not write this. It is by an author named Edward Gorey but it's short and I love it.

You should also check out a band called Creature Feature - they set this to music and came out with a really fun tune. This is the album it's featured on.

A is for Amy who fell down the stairs.

B is for Basil assaulted by bears.

C is for Clara who wasted away.

D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh.

E is for Ernest who choked on a peach.

F is for Fanny sucked dry by a leech.

G is for George smothered under a rug.

H is for Hector done in by a thug.

I is for Ida who drowned in a lake.

J is for James who took lye by mistake.

K is for Kate who was struck with an axe.

L is for Leo who swallowed some tacks.

M is for Maud who was swept out to sea.

N is for Neville who died of ennui.

O is for Olive run through with an awl.

P is for Prue trampled flat in a brawl.

Q is for Quentin who sank on a mire.

R is for Rhoda consumed by a fire.

S is for Susan who perished of fits.

T is for Titus who flew into bits.

U is for Una who slipped down a drain.

V is for Victor squashed under a train.

W is for Winnie embedded in ice.

X is for Xerxes devoured by mice.

Y is for Yorick whose head was knocked in.

Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.

So...if ever you have someone you want to "do in," here's a laundry list. ;-)

Sloss Furnace

This weekend, I had the opportunity to visit the Sloss Furnace in Birmingham. Back in it's heyday, Sloss was responsible for producing iron, which was used all over the country to build buildings, cars, you name it. I won't delve deeply into the history of the place here in this blog - you can google it if you wish to read more about it, but the very nature of the place made working conditions nearly unbearable. Temperatures reaching upwards of 120 degrees, vats of molten metals, and an evil, wicked foreman named "Slag" all co-existed to make this an incredibly dangerous place to work. There were lost limbs, explosions that seared the flesh of some workers and blinded others, and at least 100 men are reported to have lost their lives there.

Most people who believe in ghosts believe these sorts of conditions can make an area ripe for a haunting (Update: moving orb?)
and indeed, there have been many reports of strange and frightening encounters and a number of investigative teams have gone in with numerous pieces of high-tech equipment. Again, you can google and find their accounts.

This, however, is my account.

Let me just start by saying Sloss definitely deserves a high creepiness score. Everywhere you turn there's another staircase leading down into pitch dark basement nooks and crannies. There are towers, bridges and narrow walkways that lead between and around giant, unnameable pieces of unknown equipment. There's even a tunnel. (Update: Can you see the bright beautiful orb in front of Mikki's face?)

It had been raining heavily for several days in Birmingham and the pumps weren't on. There was standing water everywhere in the lower levels. It's so dark that I took nearly 200 photos just so that I could see the path ahead in the momentary brightness of the flash.

When we first arrived I saw that the land the factory sits on is bordered on one side by the interstate. In fact, it's so close that the parking area for the furnace is directly beneath the highway with the parking spots falling between the giant support pillars. On the other side of the property is a set of train tracks that is still in use and a long train did go by, whistle blaring, while we were there. My thought was that we would have to discount anything we heard - if we heard anything at all. But that didn't stop us from hearing something completely unexpected and unexplained down in the bowels of the largest building. I'm baffled by it.

Let's take this in order though. I saw something. Up on a high, square tower in the bright afternoon sun, I saw a shadow man. He was leaning with his elbows on the top railing and one foot proped up on the lower railing. I saw him. He appeared to be a man dressed all in jet black close-fitting clothes, or perhaps it wasn't clothes at all. Perhaps he was simply comprised of shadow - I don't know. I only saw him for a moment. But the black outline of his "clothing" was crisply defined against the cloudy blue of the sky. I saw him in profile but even so I couldn't make out the shape of his face. It was just more darkness where a face should be. I had walked around the side of an enormous piece of equipment and was suddenly looking straight at him. I blinked and before I could say a word he was gone. I stood there in amazement. Not just that I'd seen something so clearly, but that I'd seen it outside, at noon, on a sunny day.

We had all split up and sort of gone out in little groups. My friend, who is in my opinion, a sensitive, came and found me. He told me he'd been exploring and had come across an area that had stopped him dead in his tracks, but he wouldn't tell me anything else. He just said, "Come with me." and so I did.

He took me into the largest building, into a room and down the stairs into a stygian darkness where I had to stand still for a few moments while my eyes adjusted to the faintest flicker of indirect lighting that was being reflected off of some of the equipment and into a pool of standing water. I had no idea how deep that pool was. It might have only been there because of all the recent rain but it was an enormous pool to be inside a building - probably 6 or 8 feet wide by about 8 or 10 feet long. Because of the size, I got the impression that it was deep and that it was a normal feature in this particular area. That impression was reinforced by the fact that there was a 3-foot-wide, mesh-grating type of bridge running across the pool. There were no handrails, and a rather large pipe jutted out over the bridge at chest-height which meant you had to duck and turn to manouever around the pipe, all while not falling off into that water containing who knows what.

My friend wouldn't tell me what he had experienced or even exactly where in the room he'd experienced it because he wanted to hear what I had to say. The moment I got both feet on that bridge I felt an overwhelmingly strong sense of vertigo. It looked as if the pipes around me were moving, and it felt like the bridge was swaying ever so slightly. There was nothing to hold on to and even though I was so close to the firm ground where I'd started (and where I'd felt perfectly fine) I was afraid to move. I had to stand perfectly still for about 20 or 30 seconds while I got used to the sensation of movement. My friend watched me standing there and finally asked what I was doing. When I explained, he kind of chuckled and said, "Yeah. Weird, isn't it."

We both finally made it across the bridge near the wall on the other side and were talking quietly about what could cause that particular sensation, when suddenly we both stopped and at the same time each of us said something like, "What the hell? A horse?" At the same moment, we had both clearly heard the sound of a horse whinnying. There were no horses on the property, and when we later checked with our friends, some of whom had been in a different part of the same building and some of whom had been outside on the grounds, not one of them had heard the horse. (Update: After further historical research we found that horses were common on the grounds during Sloss's heydey.)

There's another down-in-the-basement area that has been much-discussed in some of the televised investigations of the Sloss. The same friend and I wandered in there. This area has a giant pipe running through the room and out through a hole in the wall, on into some other part of the building. This pipe is blocking the path from one area to another so a four or five-step staircase with a concrete slab on top has been built for easier access between the two rooms. I climbed up on top of that slab and stood there. Have you ever felt the sensation of low blood sugar? You get sort of weak and your muscles get all jittery. Well, I'd had a late breakfast just about 2 hours earlier so that should in no way have been a problem, but that jittery low-blood sugar feeling came over me within a matter of seconds after climbing up onto that slab. I stood there for several minutes hoping the feeling would pass but it didn't. Finally I told my friend I had to sit down. I was about to step down to that first step when my knee on the supporting leg suddenly buckled. Thankfully my friend was right behind me and he has quick reflexes. I don't know what caused that leg to buckle any more than I know what caused the overall weak feeling. I sat down right there near the steps and my friend sat on the slab I'd just nearly fallen off of. We sat there for a long time not talking, just looking and listening. All of a sudden he snapped a couple of pictures. He said he'd seen someone standing in front of me, just about a foot and a half from me. I didn't see anything. I hope he caught it in those pictures.

After that I wandered into another room in the same area. It was really dark in there. I snapped a lot of pictures in there because I couldn't see anything. All I know is that as I sat there in the dark, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I actually felt frightened. During the time we'd bee at Sloss I'd been startled, amazed, excited...but this was the only room that scared me. I was in there by myself for 10 or 15 minutes when my friend walked in. Immediately, he said, "Don't move!" and he snapped 5 or 6 shots of me from different angles. He still hasn't told me why but I can't wait to see the rest of those pictures.

Whoo-hoo!

I'm excited! Today is the first day my blog has shown up when I googled it.

Burning Man - a nightmare

No, not that one. This burning man is an entity in one of the most bizarre and frightening dreams I've ever had. This dream was set back in the early 90's when I had a roomate named Alice. She and I were both hairdressers back then.

The dream began with Alice driving us home from a hairshow. We were on the interstate. It was late, we were exhausted and there wasn't another car in sight. We were doing everything we could to stay alert on that last long, dark, lonely stretch of empty road.

I started telling creepy stories, thinking the adrenaline would energize us. I told the one about the man with the hook and the "parked" teenagers... The escaped mental patient...The babysitter who gets a spooky call from inside the house........all the classics. We were becoming very creeped out - but we were wide awake.

Before too long we heard a strange noise. It sounded like something had hit the front wheel well of the car. We looked at each other and laughed sort of nervously for a second, each of us thinking we'd imagined it. It only took another second though, for us to realize we'd both heard the sound. Then came the inevitable discussion. "What do you think it was?" "Should we pull over and take a look?" " Do you think it's safe to stop out here?"

Just a short moment later, I noticed a strange tiny glow emanating from that part of the car. As I watched, it grew and I realized it was the flicker of a tiny flame. Before I could say a word, Alice had noticed it too and she immediately began slowing down.

As the car's momentum slowed, the flame grew exponentially larger. Almost immediately, it blossomed into a fireball. Suddenly, I realized it was more than just a ball - it was shaped like a head - and it was attached to shoulders. Furious eyes suddenly blinked open and stared through the windshield with an unquestionably evil awareness and intent. The shoulder moved and an arm and hand came into view, slapping down onto the hood of the car with an audible thud. Then the other hand. This impossible... thing was climbing up onto the car!

By now the car had almost come to a stop, but Alice knew we had no chance against this thing if we stopped. With no other choice, she floored it. The car lurched forward and the creature was thrown against the windshield. At this close range we could hear the sound of the flames and the terrible, high-pitched, mewling sound the creature was making.

Rather than being reduced and devoured by the flames, this abomination was becoming more substantive every moment. It was actually being created by the flames. I could see bones, with bloody and grisly muscle and flesh knitting to them as I watched in horified fascination.

The car was slewing all over the road because Alice's vision was quickly becoming completely obscured by the detritus being smeared on the windshield. Without any warning the creature's fist smashed straight through the screen! The glass shattered, some of the pieces falling in on us and some staying upright, creating a jagged hole through which this burning arm was thrust, reaching for my face. The putrid stench of burning flesh permeated the interior of the car and blood and filth dripped and slewed all over me while the creature clawed and tried to grab me.

Thinking quickly, Alice slammed both feet down on the break pedal. The car went into a sickening spin and the creature lost it's grip and was thrown free of the car, but not before the jagged window glass dug into it's charred flesh and ripped the arm from it's body. I screamed in agony and terror as the severed limb landed in my lap, smoking and leaking a steaming viscous fluid all over me. I rolled the window down as quickly as I could, grabbed the now smoldering mess and jettisoned it from the car.

The creature had fallen onto the blacktop of the road and was self-illuminated as it tumbled end over end and finally rolled to a stop. It lay there in a crumpled burning heap. Still. Unmoving. We sat there, watching it burn. Trying to process what had just occured. To take stock of our injuries. And there were no words. The only sound was the popping and crackling of the fire and the soft inhalations of our stuttered breaths.

The fire shifted, the way a fire will as it consumes it's fuel. Or so we thought. Quite slowly, and to our utter disbelief, this monster (for what other label truly fits?) got it's remaining three limbs working and, with the grace of a dancer, rolled to it's feet and rose to it's full height. It stood for a moment with it's head bowed as if gathering it's thoughts. Then the head came up and it turned and looked at us. It turned on it's heels and began stalking back toward the car.

Screaming, Alice threw the car back in gear and jammed her foot down on the gas pedal. We took off, both of us looking back over our shoulders. The creature was running after us, but thankfully, it wasn't as fast as the car, and it began to drop back, appearing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. The last we saw of it, it was dashing into the treeline on the side of the road.

I am my neighborhood's eccentric cat lady.

I've accepted it. And why not. Every neighborhood has one, why shouldn't I be her (she be me?)? Whatever.

You've seen my sweet girl Vladdy with me in my profile pic, but let me just come straight out and say it. There are 4 more at home in addition to her.

I know what you're thinking.

"5 cats? Criminy, that's a lot of critters!"

But I've really embraced my position in the neighborhood and I think I remember reading somewhere that 5 is the bare minimum you can have and still be considered "eccentric." Phew! Just made it.

"So how does one come to have 5 cats," you ask? It's really easy - you can do it too. Let me show you how.

About 3-1/2 years ago, I came home from work one day and there was the scrawniest little orange tabby I've ever seen on my front sidewalk. He was a polite and well-mannered gentleman and it was clear he hadn't been getting regular meals for some time. I would have been remiss if I hadn't done something to rectify that unfortunate situation. Luckily, I remembered I had a can of tuna in the house and before you can say "Presto," I had a cat. Now I just needed to know what to call him. Hmmm. He showed up right before Halloween, he was orange, and he was quite adept at sneaking around and startling me when I least expected it, thus, his name is Spooky. He is handsome utterly charming. And such a skilled hunter! Why, I once saw him leap into the air and snatch a bird right out of the sky, and he presents me with his trophies on a regular basis. I firmly believe he is still greatful for that first can of tuna.

Next came Bella. She's a cute, precious and very fluffy black and white tuxedo girl. She used to hang out with the neighbors down the street (and was named by their 4-year-old) but she decided she likes us better and she never goes "home" anymore. I can't say I'm unhappy about that. She is very gentle, though mildly feral and doesn't trust strangers. Unfortunately, if she hasn't met you 100 times, you're a stranger. I honestly believe Bella is mildly "challenged." She forgets. But Spooky takes really good care of her. They both prefer living outside and the two are inseparable. It really is adorable.

I thought for a while that our furry family was complete until I got a call from a friend about a year and a half ago. Her neighbor's cat just birthed a liter and the neighbor couldn't keep them. Did I know anybody who could take in one or more kittens? Why yes! Yes I did. The babies were only about a week old when I first saw them - their eyes weren't even open yet. We had to wait weeks and weeks before they were old enough to leave their mother, and we visited them every week until then so they would know us and not be frightened when we brought them home.

All of them were nearly solid black with one exception. A tiny tuxedo! My friend decided she looks just like her own cat Amir, and so the kitten was immediately dubbed Amir, Jr. A.J. is a sweet lap kitty who loves to watch me cook. She jumps up on top of the cabinet closest to the stove and watches every move I make. She cocks her head to the side like she's thinking about whether she would make the same spice-choices.

The second looked just like a little bear, or maybe even a Wookie. She was the cutest little thing. Black as night with just a small white blaze on her chest and a miniscule white dot on one ankle. I knew she would be perfect for my husband.

She always looks mildly grumpy or "put out" and my husband, book-junkie that he is, named her after a loveable old grouchy character he likes. Kitty's name is Trout. We always have to explain it, but she is sort of clumsy and a little grouchy so the name suits her. She is such a beautiful cat. If Merriam Webster wanted a picture of the perfect feline, it would be Trout.

While I dearly love them all, I've saved my darling Vladdy for last. She is my dark angel. She was the runt of the litter - only 3 or 4 inches long the first time I saw her. As I said, her eyes weren't even open, but when I picked her up and cradled her in my arms she immediately climbed my shirt and snuggled up against my throat. She is solid black, with one exception - she also has a blaze on her chest that is more a defined circular shape than Trout's. She's grown into them somewhat now, but when she was tiny, her ears were the same size they are now. They were gigantic on her tiny little head. With her little pointy face, big ears and (we were soon to learn) her penchant for hanging upside down, she looked for all the world like a cute little fruitbat!

So...
1) she's bat-like
2) with jet black, smooth short fur
3) and an avid neck nuzzler
Since I have a thing for vampires as well as cats, it made perfect sense to name her after the Dark Prince himself. Dracula. Vlad Dracul. And presto...a cat named Vladdy was born!

So as you can see, there are no Socks, or Mittens or Tigers for me (not that there's anything wrong with that). My babies' names are utterly unique. Just like they are.

Bellydance is not for wimps.

Almost 2 years ago I got a call from my best friend asking me if I'd like to take a dance class with her and some other friends. I love to dance so my interest was immediately peaked. Then she told me it was a bellydance class. I wasn't sure what to expect but I figured what-the-heck.

The first night of class there were a hand full of newbies like us, but there were also several women there who were taking this introductory course for the third or even fourth time. I really didn't know what to make of that. I figured maybe they hadn't built their stamina up enough to move on to the next level. Or something. I just didn't know.

The instructor introduced herself as Rajah and told us that in 8 weeks time we would learn the choreography for an entire dance routine which we would perform at the upcoming Hafla (sort of a dance party for bellydancers.)

Was I terrified? You bet your sweet shimmy, I was!

Before this class, I had never had any formal dance training - though I've been told I'm no slouch on the dancefloor at a nightclub. But I was looking for a new form of exercise, something I would enjoy and that wouldn't seem like work, and I was determined to give it a go.

Fast forward four weeks. My friend had decided that she is not a bellydancer and she bowed out gracefully, but I was hooked. I loved the sounds, the rhythms, the costumes. It was all so strange and beautiful.

Now, almost two years later, I still love it. Rajah, who almost exclusively taught the modern egyptian style, has moved away. Sahdia is now our instructor and she enjoys incorporating other styles into our training and she's teaching us about tribal fusion this session. There is so much variety in the syles of bellydance, and there are new fusions of existing styles that pop up.

As I learn from these wonderful instructors and research styles on my own, I'm finding that I love tribal fusion and gothic bellydance. Their darker, edgier costumes, music and sinuous moves (and sometimes pops and locks) appeal to my dark side. My instructor is encouraging me to do a solo at our next group performance - it would be my first - and I think I want to do a gothic style dance. I'm currently looking for the perfect song around which I can build the perfect costume to set the mood for my perfect dance. I'm thinking perhaps Jill Tracy or Switchblade Symphony but I'm always open to suggestions if you have them.

So did I perform in that first Hafla? Well, yes I did, but not well, I'm afraid. My shyness, fear and lack of confidence saw to that. But I have performed twice since and each time I did better than the one before so at least there is evidence that I'm learning and growing in the tradition.

I joined the ranks of those women who took the beginning session multiple times - I took it five times, myself. The reason? It's hard! Go on youtube and check out some of the videos. Those wonderful women make it look so easy but it's not. It's incredibly fun, artistic and rewarding, but Bellydance is not for wimps.

I have since moved up to the next level - intermediate, as it were and there's just no telling how long I'll hang out there. Years, most likely. And one day I'll make it look easy too.

It's all about atmosphere

Old-fashioned Gothic horror is a passion. So much of what passes for horror these days is simply gore and splatter but I much prefer the old, blood-frozen-in-my-veins feeling I got as a child when I first read Poe's The Raven and The Tell Tale Heart.

There's nothing in the world like a good ghost story. Shadows and atmosphere, gargoyles, candles, billowing fog, an avenue of huge old trees leading up to a slightly past-its-prime old manor house, perhaps a swampy marsh or dense forest - these are images that are sure to make my pulse pound and my breath quicken. And if, by chance, there is a family cemetary plot or mausoleum on the premises (and, dare I hope? a Vampire?) I experience a paroxysm of ecstasy!