Category Archives: NOVEL WRITING

Canto 17 – The Balcony Scene

Rogelio found himself looking up at the second-floor balcony of the Zuniga Inn.

“So, you wanna climb up there?” he asked Steven.

“I have now done it countless times in more than a century of practicing this moment over and over again.”

“So, I won’t die if we fall headfirst on our stupid head?”

“You can’t actually die in this reality unless another living human kills you here.”

“And that’s what we’re gonna do to Yesenia when we get up there?”  Rogelio felt a bit panicky over having no control over his own body.

“Not here.  Not now.  I told you I would give you the reasons for why we have to kill her.  But those reasons don’t apply to this moment.”

Steven took control of Rogelio’s arms and legs.  He began to shinny up one of the columns that supported the balcony on the second floor.  Then like a monkey he swung his legs up over the edge of the balcony railing.  It was all solid wood, but Rogelio still felt as if it could fall apart at any moment and they would plummet headfirst to the ground.  But he found himself standing on both legs outside the first room on the second floor. 

“What if the balcony door is locked?” Rogelio asked.

“It’s not.  These balcony doors don’t even have locks.”

He reached over and slowly, silently pulled open the balcony door.  Quietly, he entered the room.  It was a simple, sparsely furnished room in a Spanish inn.  The bed was occupied by two skeletons, a large, blue male one and a smaller pink one that looked like it could be Imelda’s mother.

“Don’t say anything with your mouth.  You’ll wake them,” said Steven.

“Are they both asleep?” Rogelio asked nervously in his head only.

Then the male snored loudly enough to remove all doubt.  The female moaned at the noise, but merely poked her husband and rolled over.

Steven quietly moved them out of the room and closed the door after them.

“So, I was supposed to expect you to sneak into Momma and Poppa’s room?” said Yesenia/Imelda on the next balcony.

Steven grinned sheepishly.  Rogelio noticed that the moonlight made the ghost nightgown she was wearing more visible, but you could still see through it to Yesenia’s beautiful naked body underneath.

“Why don’t you try this room instead?”

The two balcony railings were separated by only about three feet of empty space.  Getting up on the railing, it was easy for Steven/Rogelio to step across the gap.

“Gringo, I am surprised that you actually did this.  I thought it was just talking.”

“I was talking… to a pretty girl whom I may have fallen in love with at first sight.”  Steven was laying it on thick, but Rogelio also knew he was deeply in love with Imelda.

Imelda blushed using Yesenia’s face.

“Come into my room where Momma won’t hear you.  If she finds out, she will make Poppa kill you.”

Steven let Imelda take him by the hand and pull him into the bedroom.

“Is what I think is about to happen really going to happen?” Rogelio asked Steven.

“It depends on what you mean by really happen?” he answered by thought alone.

“Have you ever made love to a woman?”

“Only one time in my whole life, but I have relived it more times than I can count on all the fingers in Dallas.”

“And you are going to relive it again now?”

“Yeah… so?”

“In my body?  And Imelda in Yesenia’s body?”

“And you are a virgin… huh?”

Then Rogelio saw Imelda pulling them toward the bed.  And he began to remember how beautiful Yesenia was in real life.  He was about to become a man in the world of the ghosts and skeletons.

                                                *****

“You will come to my quinceañera, Steven?”

“I will.  And we will run away together?”

“I will go anywhere with you.  I love you, Steven.”

At that moment, a loud banging at the door frightened them both.

“Imelda!  LET ME IN!  I will kill him!”

“It is my padre!  He will kill us both!  Get out now!”

 Steven scrambled out of the bed and grabbed at his clothing.  The ghost materials all slipped through his fingers except for his floppy cowboy hat.  He was out over the balcony rail in mere moments.  Completely naked… with a hat on his head.

Several splinters pierced his hands, forearms, and thighs as he shinnied down the support column. “You come back here, gringo!  You will marry my daughter now, or you will die a horrible death!” 

The angry shadow loomed over the street, huge and terrible.  It shook a black skeletal fist at Rogelio and Steven as they ran down the street naked, not wearing even ghost clothing.  Rogelio’s heart hammered hard enough for two people as they barefooted their way down the dirt street.

Canto 15 – Dolls with White Wigs

Dora McMaster had been carefully studying the doll that she thought she had somehow made and forgotten.  She seemed especially interested in the white-haired wig the doll wore.

“This wig on the doll…  Did you know that it is made with real human hair?” Dora asked Brittany.

“No, I did not.  It is the only thing that isn’t like my own daughter.  She has black hair.”

“Molly had black hair too before…”

“Before what?”

“The news came about her father, and both she and her mother took sick.  Apparently high fever, or something like it, turned Molly’s hair ghost white.”

“That’s strange.”

“Yes, and stranger still that I don’t remember ever making a white wig before.  But I have been planning to make one for the doll who is supposed to be Molly.  To remember her as…”

“…As she was before you lost your chance to save her.”

“Yes.  But where did the doll-maker who made this wig get white human hair?  And why put it on my creation in Aunt Phillia’s horrible store?”

“Is it dyed, perhaps?”

“No.  It contains strands that still have black roots, and the color all seems natural, just like Molly’s own.  But it couldn’t be made from Molly’s hair… not after the fire.”

“You will make the Molly doll with white hair?”

“Yes, of course… but where to get white-colored human hair to make such a wig?”

“Mention her own white hair,” said Molly to Brittany in a voice Dora apparently couldn’t also hear.

“You have some white hair on your own head the same color as that,” said Brittany.

“Why, yes… I do.  It will take time to grow out enough to use it without making myself bald,” Dora said, giggling to herself.

“Why do you have white hair?” Brittany whispered to the doll.

“Not here.  We will talk later in private.  I can show you at the witching hour.”

Brittany nodded to herself at the doll’s answer.  She didn’t much like how demonic and spooky the doll seemed.  But the doll was also so like Hannah, and endearing enough to make it necessary for Brittany to know everything.  In a ghost story, it is the unknown thing that scares you the most.  And it could only be a good thing to make the unknown a little more known.

Dora had taken out the pieces of a doll’s skull cap and began singing softly to herself as she began to sew and prepare the cap to have human hair added.

“Dora?  Would it be all right if I step out in the yard for some air while you do that?” Brittany asked.

“Certainly.  And thank you so much for the inspiration.”

Brittany took the doll with her out onto the veranda in the back of the house opposite the flower garden.

“Okay, Molly.  I need some answers.”

“Honest answers?  Or do you prefer to be lied to?”

“Honest answers, of course!”

“About what, then?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You mean to Dora’s house?”

“I mean, this time… this place… this world?”

“I paid the toy man to get my momma back again.”

“What?  What does that have to do with me?”

“The toy man said that if I chose you to play with, that could help me get momma back.”

“Play with me?  What does that mean?”

“I don’t know all the details… yet.  But you are alive… and my momma is not.  I need to use you to make her alive again.”

Brittany stared at the smiling porcelain face.  The creepy smile chilled her to the bone.

Canto 13 – The Doll’s Bargain

The owl-guy had demanded that Maria work for another half hour dusting toys that apparently hadn’t been moved even an inch in five decades.  And when she was done, the toys seemed to have accumulated the exact same amount of dust as they had possessed before she started cleaning.

Stan had spent time talking and prodding the weird old man all the time Maria had been working, and then when it was over, the private dick wouldn’t even tell her what they had been gossiping about.

She went straight to her room, her laptop and her cell phone, as soon as she was home.

Mom was no help.  She had gone to bed the moment that she had drug herself home from work.

And then… the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Ma-Maria?  C-can I talk to you… please?”

“Who is this?”

A little girl was crying into the phone on the other end.

“Hannah?  Is that you?”

“Yeah… you said I could… call you?”

“Of course, I did.  But what’s the matter?”

“I have to tell you something.  Something terrible.”

“What is it?”

“It’s something terrible… that I did.”

“What did you do?”

“If I tell you… You will never forgive me.”

“Yes, I will.  I promise.”

“You can’t.  Daddy won’t forgive me if I tell him.”

“Please, Hannah.  You can tell me.  And maybe I can help you tell your daddy in a way that will make him forgive you…”

“Really?  You would do that?  For me?”

“I promise.  I like you, Hannah.  You are a nice little girl.”

“No, I’m not.  I made a deal with a Lonely One.”

“A Lonely One?”

“She was a ghost… err… something… inside a really cool doll.  And she… she was…”  Hannah dissolved in tears, unable to finish the sentence.

“You can talk to me, Hannah.  You can tell me anything.  I wish you were here right now.  I could hold you… hug you.  Make you feel better.”

“The doll was made of hard white stuff.  And she was beautiful… She looked just like me… but her hair was all white.”

“And the doll did something?”

“She asked me for something.”

“What did she want?”

“She asked if she could play with my mom.  She said if I just let her play with Mom for a while, she could make Mommy love me better…  She said…  But she lied to me.”

“What was the lie?”

“She was supposed to give Mommy back to me.  But when… when she was done playing her tricks, Mommy was sleeping on the floor and couldn’t wake up.  I let a monster play with my mom.”

“She tricked you, Hannah.  You didn’t do anything bad.  She did.  It was not your fault.”

“But, can your daddy get my mom back from the ghosts?  I mean… the Lonely Ones.  She said they were not ghosts, but Lonely Ones.”

“Stan is a very good detective.  He’s solved cases nobody ever thought he could.  If anybody can get your mom back, he’s the one who can do it.”

“You promise me?”

“I can’t promise for sure.  But if he can’t do it, then nobody can.”

“Thank you, Maria.  I love you,” Hannah said in a tiny, strained voice.

“I love you too, Hannah.  Hang in there.  I’m gonna tell Stan.  Then we’ll figure out these Lonely Ones you are talking about.”

Maria spent the next half hour listening to the little girl cry over the phone.  She tried to comfort her whenever she was given the chance, but it was mostly just being there to listen that mattered.  Maria was crying too by the time she went to the living room to tell Stan.

Canto 12 – The Interview with the Ghost Owl

“So, somebody’s going to pay you for all of this?” Maria asked in the car before they reached the toy store.

“The Merriweathers want their boy Mark back.  They are going to pay me the standard investigation fee for every day it takes to find him.  Of course, I have to find him to earn the money,” Stan answered while turning the corner in his run-down little Ford Fiesta.

“What about Rogelio’s parents?”

“The cops told them that he’s a probable runaway.  They didn’t seem interested in paying to get him back.  The dad says that if Rogelio ran away to be with Yesenia, then he’s following his heart.  And if he’s been murdered, they are not anxious to find that out.  Of course, no body has turned up for either of the missing kids.”

“And the little black girl?”

“To be honest, I got a real bad vibe from that stepfather.  They call him Poppa Dark, but his real name’s DeAndre Rork.  He doesn’t like answering questions.  And he’s probably the killer, if my instincts are right.”

Maria shivered as they turned into the parking lot near the toy store.

“Two dollars for the rest of the day,” said the attendant.

Stan grumbled something about wishing for an empty parking meter as he fumbled in his pocket for change.  Then he handed it to the attendant.

“Park in F13.”

Stan and Maria parked and went into the toy store.

The man behind the counter looked to be old… the indeterminate age sort of old.  He had white hair, a wrinkled white face, and glasses that made his eyes look huge, a magnifying effect.

“Eule Gheist?” Stan asked.

“Yes.  I’m still me.”

“We need to ask you a few questions.”

“The young lady still owes me a few hours of cleaning.”

“I finished picking up the mess I made that day, trying to open that door, I mean,” Maria said defensively.

“How about dusting the shelves where the wood goods sit?  That could count as another of your hours.”

Maria gave Geist a pouty-lip look, took the feather duster from him, and headed for the wood goods.

“So, Eule, how many toys did you sell today?”

“None.”

“And how many have you sold this week?”

“None.”

“This month?”

“Again, none.”

“Not a very profitable business, it seems.”

“Mr. Mephisto is a collector of rare antique toys.  We are not in business to sell toys.  He is a billionaire, and he uses this business as a tax-write-off.”

“Hmm.  How much do you make working here, if I may ask.”

“I make nothing.”

“Then how do you live?”

“Quite well for a barn owl that was made human by magic.”

”That’s just a tale you tell kids, right?”

“If that’s what you choose to believe.”

“A barn owl?”

“What the Latinos call a Lechuza.”

“Sure they do.  Did the police ask you about a boy named Mark Merriweather?  Or a girl named Shandra -Johnson-Rork?”

“Yes.  They were in here, apparently right before they decided to disappear.”

“Did you see where they went?”

“Not where, exactly, but I know they left with a dark gentleman.”

“Did you tell the police that?

“Yes.  It seemed to be exactly what they wanted to hear.”

“Wait a minute… did you say a black man?”

“Of course not.  He was dark of personality, not skin color.”

“Did the police verify that too?”

“Of course not.  They heard dark and accepted that as what they wanted to hear.”

“So, what do you mean by dark?”

“Like the devil is dark.”

“Are you saying the devil took them?”

“Something like that.”

As Stan was pondering that, Maria came back to the front of the store with a decorated paper skull like the one she had told him about before..

“This is the one Rogelio was talking to,” she said, showing him the decorative thing.

“Eule?  What do you know about that?”

“It’s cursed.  It’s also a family heirloom.”

“Can we borrow it to study it?”

“Help yourself.  But don’t damage it in any way.”

“Because it’s valuable?”

“No.  Because it’s cursed.  And it can take revenge.”