Wednesday, May 29, 2013

The Emanatory Mice


The Realization

Cobb's room was small, but he thought it was the perfect size for him.  He had a single bed in the corner that he kept neat and made.  He used a small table that he covered with a white towel as a nightstand.  There was a footlocker at the end of his bed but it was turned sideways against the wall under a window.

His chest of drawers was near the entry door to his room.  He kept it there so he could slide it over and block his bedroom door for extra security.

A small black and white boxed television sat on a metal folding chair near his bed.  The television only picked up two channels but that didn't bother Cobb.  A bright orange thick extension cord ran across the middle of Cobb's room.  It was plugged into the television which was then plugged into the only working electrical outlet in the room.

A lot of things didn't bother Cobb, especially the mice he's been seeing lately.  A mouse here, a mouse there.  He didn't know what to make of it.  He knew one thing for sure, he wasn't going to tell anybody.  He didn't want anybody saying anything and then having it get back to Leary.

Cobb would sit on the edge of his bed at any given time and see a mouse.  It was like he could stop whatever it was he was doing at the moment, look around and he'll see a mouse somewhere - anywhere.  He's seen a mouse in his shoes, in cupboards, on shelves...anyplace where Cobb would look he'd see a mouse.

But never any mice odd.  Oh well, in time somebody is going to have to see a mouse eventually.

Cobb had a small sink in his room, but the toilet and shower was in another room down the hall.  He would brush his teeth at the sink and then walk down the hall to the shower room.

Cobb showered at night, it made him feel better.  Cobb was gathering his towels when a mouse jumped out of his shower bag and into the sleeve of his robe.  Cobb began to panic.

"What the hell?  Get the hell out of there!" Cobb screamed.  He began to spin around rather quickly whipping his arm up and down, trying to fling the mouse out of his sleeve - no luck.

"That's it," Cobb said to himself as he stopped spinning.  He then started taking off his robe as fast as he could without falling down.  He was still kind of dizzy from all the spinning around.  He looked like a drunk trying to disrobe.

He finally let the bathrobe drop to the floor.  Being completely naked, Cobb began stomping on his bathrobe with his feet. He used the metal folding chair as support so he wouldn't fall.

"You little shit...get outa there," Cobb said as he stepped off the bathrobe.  He assumed he killed it.  With a hushed grunt and once again using the metal folding chair as support, Cobb bent over and picked up his bathrobe and gave it a good shake.  Nothing.

"What the...?" Cobb said to himself.  No dead mouse, no blood, no trace of it.  Cobb looked around his room.  Cobb then noticed himself in the mirror.  He saw how he looked standing there in the nude wearing just his slippers and holding his bathrobe.  He thought he looked silly and began to laugh at himself when he looked at his scrotum. 

"I'm going nuts."

Cobb slowly gathered his wits along with his bathrobe and headed for the shower.  He reached out and grabbed the doorknob and took a deep breath.  He opened the door and looked down the hallway and noticed about two dozen mice scurrying about; disappearing in the baseboards and beneath doors.

Cobb just looked with an emotionless face while slowly closing his bedroom door.

"I'll shower tomorrow."

Bar Tricks

Cobb came down to the bar a little later than usual.  There were already a few patrons sitting at the bar,  Cobbs usual spot was open but he still sat at one of the tables.  Leary walked around the bar and placed a drink on the table that Cobb was sitting at.

"Everything alright?" Leary asked Cobb.

"Yeah, sure...why?" Cobb returned with a question with a puzzled look on his face.

"Well, it's just..." Leary decided not to get into it. "Never mind."  Leary walked back behind the bar.  "I'll start your tab."

Cobb looked at the patrons who were sitting at the bar; he listened to their conversation.  He noticed that one of the them was doing a card trick of some sort.

Cobb thought for a minute and remembered that only wanna-be "card hustlers" brought cards to a tavern.  Cobb didn't recognize any these people and thought that the whole setup was kind of fishy and he began to feel that he was target in their evil scheme.

The man with the cards wore a bright green sport jacket in which he pulled up the sleeves to his elbows.  He wore a white Notre Dame baseball cap backwards and chewed his bubble gum with his mouth open.  He reminded Cobb of a smart mouth college kid.  

The other guy was bald and wore a white tank-top.  Cobb thought that this guy definitely belonged behind bars in the county jail.

"This is called 'Chasing Amy'", the guy in green told the bald guy.  "Guess which card is the queen?"  He placed three cards in front of the bald guy, two ace cards and the Queen of Hearts and then he flipped them over face down.

"What I want you to do is tell me which card is the queen after I switch them up.  For five bucks, I bet you I can switch them up so fast that you won't know where the queen is."

"You're on," the bald guy agreed.

Cobb thought this was all an act.  There was no way he was going to fall for it.  Funny thing is thought Cobb, was that they probably stayed up all night practicing this very act.

 The guy in green switched up the cards and stopped.


The bald guy thought for a second and smiled. "This one."

The guy in green flipped it over and indeed it was the queen.

Cobb rolled his eyes and said to himself, "Figures."  He looks at the floor and notices a mouse scurrying across the floor.  Cobb looks around to see if anybody else is seeing this  - no one...figures.

Cobb looks back at the's heading straight for the guy in green.  It stops right at the man's shoe for a second before he hops on the shoe and crawls up the pant leg.

Cobb thought to himself, "Doesn't he feel that?"

Obviously not.

The mouse crawls on up the pant leg and onto the green sport jacket.  Cobb was amazed at how agile this particular mouse was and how it climb on and up without being noticed... that is by anyone else but Cobb, of course.

The mouse climb up the green jacket and into the jacket pocket.  Just then, Cobb noticed the guy in green reach in his jacket pocket and pull out another card.

How odd.

The bald guy wasn't paying attention because he was delighted that he won an easy five dollars.  What he didn't know was that he was getting set up.

If it wasn't for that mouse, Cobb would have missed it also.

"Okay, okay..." the guy in green interjected, "let's up the bet.  How about fifty bucks?"

Wow.  Cobb was shocked.  The guy in green was going for his buddy's throat, or so he would have it seem.  Cobb wasn't falling for it.

"I don't have fifty bucks, man," the bald guy pleaded.

This is where Cobb was suppose to jump in and take that bet.  Cobb wasn't falling for it.  Cobb slid around, put his back to the two "would-be" hustlers and sipped his beer.

"I'll take that bet."

That was a familiar voice.  Cobb's eyes widened as he quickly turned back around...oh, no.  It was Leary...and he's taken the bait!

"Sure thing barkeep, step right up,"  said the guy in the green.  Cobb could tell the guy in green's voice that to him; to him, it was showtime.

Cobb looked at Leary, as if he was trying to warn him telepathically.  However, Leary did happen to catch eyes with Cobb, but only to wink at him as if to say "I got this under control"...yeah, right.  Both Cobb & Leary were street smart, but Cobb was card smart as well.  Leary knew he was being hustled, he was hoping to catch these punks at their own con and then have a reason to toss them out on their ear.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

The Emanatory Mice

by James Timothy Peters
He eventually realized that nobody else could see them, so he acted like he couldn't see them either.

If nobody can see them but him, that means they're not real...right?

So how are they helping him...or are they?

The Washed-Up Magician

Cobb used to go by another name, a name that he hasn't used, gone by or even heard in over 40 years.  It was probably better that way.

Cobb used to be a well-known magician back in the day performing on the streets on the north side of Chicago.  He traveled the country a little, made a little money and lived a half-way decent living.  But now... now it was obvious that his better days were definitely behind him.

His tan suit was his favorite out of the only three he owned.  It desperately needed to be pressed, and his wrinkled shirt needed to be ironed.  His hat was old and worn and you could tell that it was lighter in color at one time, but now, because of uncleaned fingers, the brim was smudged with dirt.  He seldom shaved, but he occasionally splash on some cheap cologne to try and cover up the smell of cigar smoke and alcohol.

Cobb received his social security check in the mail from the US government, it was just enough for him to afford the lifestyle he was used to and currently living.  He drank at the inn and ate at the inn, but he mostly drank.  He paid his rent on time every month and he always seemed to be content with the way things were going in his life.

He liked people and he liked to talked to them.  Every once in a while, Cobb would try to do an old magic trick to impress a young couple who happen to be passing through.  He would fumble with the cards, or drop a handkerchief or just totally forget the whole trick half way through it.  When that happened (and it happened quite a bit), he always felt embarrassed, a little ashamed and thought to himself at how much he must have shown his true age.

The Inn Keeper

Cobb lived at the Old Glory Inn.  His apartment was above the tavern and at the rear of the building.  He rented it from the Inn Keeper, Mr. O'Leary, who owned and rented rooms to such people like Cobb... a washed up, down-on-his-luck, bum, "has-been", hobo, and of course - completely harmless.

Mr. O'Leary wasn't a kind man, hardly ever had a kind word, but he truly respected Cobb.  He never let anyone harm or disrespect Cobb while they were in his place, or if he was around.  O'Leary stood over a little more then 2.5 meters and weighed about 140 kg. so he might of seemed a little intimidating to some.

O'Leary always had the sleeves to his off-white shirt rolled up mid forearm, you could see his red tie that was tucked in his brown apron.  The top of the tie stood out and could be seen from the top.

The inn wasn't that busy during the day and this was usually the time Cobb would step out of his room.

There was a stairway in the back of the tavern that led to the rented rooms upstairs.  Just about everyday, when Cobb would finally come out, he would come down the stairs and stop at the bottom step to look around to see if there was anyone patronizing the tavern.

Through the billiards room and through the smoke and rays of daylight, O'Leary could be seen standing behind the bar with his arms crossed (like always) with his back to Cobb.  The room had a light blue hue about it.

The Mouse

O'Leary would usually be watching some sporting event that was in season, and of course, with the volume all the way down.

"Morning, Leary," Cobb would say as he passed by, walking slowly to his designated bar stool, the last one against the wall.


O'Leary seldom said a greeting to anybody, he hardly said a kind word about anything - or about anybody for that matter.  But since it was just Cobb, there was no need to play "the hard-guy" role.

"I'll have my usual, thank you."

Cobb grabbed a warm glass.  Cobb preferred a warm glass over a chilled one.

"What's this I hear... that you saw a mouse last night?" O'Leary asked as he poured out the tapped beer.  It was a daily ritual of O'Leary's.  Pouring out the first ounce or two into the drip tray before sticking the first glass of the day underneath it.  Nobody knew why he did it, O'Leary kept that secret to himself, but one thing was for sure, he didn't want to see one of his bartenders doing it.

"Huh...? Oh, yeah," Cobb stuttered as he turned and faced O'Leary then continued. "It had big ears, and..."

Cobb was interrupted suddenly when O'Leary placed the beer in front of him, and without a coaster.  O'Leary leaned in a little to Cobb as if he didn't want anyone else to hear, even though there wasn't anybody there.

"Listen, chill out on "the mouse" thing, alright?" O'Leary asked in a hushed voice. "I got enough problems with this dump as it is.  I don't need the health department here too...okay?  I haven't had a mouse in this dump in over 20 years, and when I did they were just passing through.  So...enough with the mouse talk."

Cobb and O'Leary looked at each other for a moment as if they were in an agreement.  O'Leary leaned up slowly and was still looking at Cobb. O'Leary was wondering if Cobb really did understand what he was trying to get at.

O'Leary threw a small, white hand towel over his shoulder and stood for a moment before he spoke again.


Cobb shook his head a little, "Huh...? Yeah, okay, okay." Cobb assured O'Leary that he wouldn't speak of it again.

O'Leary walked away, and just as he did, Cobb swore he thought that he noticed a mouse right behind one of the clear liquor bottles that were lined up behind the bar.  Cobb began to squint his eyes to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

"What?" O'Leary asked, noticing that Cobb was squinting. He startled Cobb.

"Huh...? Yeah... nothing, nothing.  Nothing at all." Cobb took a drink of his beer, taking his eyes off the liquor bottles.

O'Leary took a quick look at what Cobb was looking at.  Then looked back at Cobb and pointed at him as he walked to the other end of the bar.

Cobb sipped his beer, glanced up at the silent television and when O'Leary was far enough away, he looked again at where he thought he saw a mouse.

It wasn't there anymore.

Cobb looked back again to see where O'Leary was.  When he noticed everything was clear, he shrugged.  He raised his eyebrows along with his glass and continued to drink his beer.

"Whatever," he said to himself.

The Next Night

The Old Glory Inn was crowded, not as crowded as it could have been, but since Tiffany called off, O'Leary had to tend bar the whole night by himself.

"So where's Tiffany?" Cobb heard a familiar patron ask O'Leary.

"I don't know, she probably got drunk last night.  I found this place a mess this morning.  She's a drunk...what'd ya expect, ya know?  I don't know," O'Leary grumbled as he polished a shot glass.

"And on a holiday too?  That sucks," the patron said looking down as if to realize that he was alone and single.

Cobb knew the patron that was talking to O'Leary.  It was Keith.  Keith knew O'Leary, but not as well as Cobb did.  Keith called O'Leary, Mr. O'Leary.  Cobb was one of the very few patrons that could get away calling him Leary.

Keith went on to talk about something or rather, but Cobb wasn't really paying attention.  Turned around and with an elbow on the bar, Cobb was holding his head up, his eyes half shut and he was trying to make it seem that he was listening and paying attention to Keith's ramblings.

That's when something else caught Cobb's attention.

He couldn't believe it.  Out of the corner of his eye, he swore that he saw a mouse scurrying across the floor.  Cobb looked around to see if anybody else saw the mouse.  He knew that if anybody else saw it they probably would freak out and make a scene.

Cobb noticed the mouse scurry under a table where two women were sitting together and drinking their cocktails.  They didn't seem to notice.

Cobb looked even closer to see if he could notice the mouse.  He wanted to see if the mouse was going to scurry away.  Of course the mouse would eventually scurry away, it's just that...

Cobb noticed that the two women were looking at him.  They were glaring at him as if he were some kind of pervert.  It was an awkward moment.

When Cobb started to spin back around the mouse ran out from beneath the table, but stopped short of just 2 meters or less.  The mouse was right in the open; right between Cobb and the two women.  He just froze and looked.

"He's a perv," said one of the two women.  Then they both tucked their legs under the table and began to turn their back to him.

He noticed that one of them dropped a coaster.  It landed almost right next to the mouse.  The mouse didn't move.  When one of the ladies realized that she dropped something, she looked over and saw the coaster on the ground.  She slid her chair out and reached down and picked it up.

The mouse just stood there. She didn't see the mouse.

How could she NOT have seen that mouse?  She looked right at it. 

Without taking his eyes off the mouse, Cobb straightened up and sat at the edge of the stool.

The table with the two ladies was about 30 feet away from Cobb, enough room where people could walk between the two of them.  Which, by the way, people were.  It was a miracle that nobody stepped on this little mouse let alone see it.

But wait...there it goes.  It started to creep slowly towards Cobb.

Cobb's face was froze.  He watched the mouse as it slowly crept in his direction.

"Nobody sees this?" Cobb said softly to himself.  He wanted to look around the room, but he then quickly made eye contact with the two women.  They stared at each for a moment.  He realized that the two women must have heard what he said under his breath and thought it was in reference to them.

"Are you kidding?" said one of the women.

The women started to get up.  It was obvious that they had enough of being what they thought was rude behavior, and were about to leave.

Cobb thought that he should have said something when the two women were gathering their things, but he realized that he had lost track of the mouse.

He got of the bar stool and looked underneath it.  There it was.  But something else caught Cobb's attention as well.  It looked like it was a folded up hundred dollar bill.

Cobb grabbed the bill and slowly unfolded it.  Sure was real.  Cobb slipped it in his inside coat pocket and got up off the floor.

"What'cha got?"

Cobb looked up and saw Keith sitting at the bar stool.  Was this Keith's money?

Cobb wasn't a thief, but he wasn't a stranger to the old "finders-keepers" proverb.  He started to feel bad.  He thought that if Keith didn't say anything - he'd keep it.  Besides, it just might not be Keith's money.

"Did you find something?" Keith asked as he tilted back his bar stool to take a peek.

"Huh...? No, no," Cobb answered back trying to hide his excitement. "Nothing, nothing."  Cobb tried to think of something.  "Thought I saw a..."

Cobb stopped.  He and O'Leary caught eyes.

"Saw a what?" O'Leary asked rather firmly.  Cobb knew what he was getting at.

"Ah, yes...thought I saw a quarter! Yeah, a quarter fell out of my pocket...I lost it. Oh well."  Cobb shrugged his shoulders and headed for the bathroom.  He seemed a bit in a rush.

He was such in a rush that when he turned around, he bumped into one of the two women.

"Um, excuse me," the woman said loud and snobby.  She was short, brunette, and wore a nice dress.

"What are you trying to do now...get a quick feel?  You old pervert!" yelled the other woman.  She was taller, blonde and very skinny.  Her dress wasn't as nice as her friends.

"Huh...? No, no.  Excuse me, I was going to the bathroom." Cobb said sounding apologetic.

"To what...? Jerk off?" said the blonde woman while she looked at Cobb up and down.

"Leave him alone," Keith said as he turned around.

O'Leary started to stroll on down.  He didn't like commotion in his tavern, but since nothing was too out of control, he just stood by polishing a shot glass.  It's been awhile, but O'Leary used to be able to hop over the bar in no-time flat!  In fact, he's had to a couple of times back in the day.

"Really, I am sorry," Cobb said as he took off his hat to show his sincerity.

Cobb lost his concentration for a moment when he noticed a mouse running along the ledge on the back wall.  The women got silent and stared at Cobb.

The two women looked at him, and then Cobb snapped to and brought his attention back.

"You're flippin' weird," said the brunette.  They both headed out.  Cobb turned and looked at O'Leary.  O'Leary just raised his eyebrows and strolled away.

Keith slowly turned back around. "Bitches."

As the women walked away, Cobb headed for the washroom.  He was about ten feet away from them.  He saw the brunette digging through her purse.

Very faintly, Cobb heard the brunette say as she walked out the side door, "I think I lost a hundred bucks."

Cobb stopped.

It sounded as if all the air was being sucked out of the room.  It was loud.  Then it stopped as soon as the door slammed shut.

That side door has never been slammed so hard.

Cobb went to the washroom.  He locked the door behind him.

A hundred bucks? A hundred bucks?  Cobb thought for a minute.  Was that her hundred bucks?

But that mouse...that must have...

No...that's crazy.

Are you sure?

Yeah I'm sure.

Cobb looked at himself in the mirror.  He pulled out the hundred dollar bill from the inside of his coat pocket.  It was new, crisp.  Looked like it came straight from the bank.  It even smelled like money.

Cobb closed his eyes, held the bill close to his nose and breathed in the smell.

He remembered that smell.  It's been a long time.

Cobb opened his eyes and stared at himself.  He was sure now.

It was a circus mouse.


Sunday, March 3, 2013

The Man on the Ceiling

The Upside Down Man

As a child, my mother had a set bedtime for my two sisters and I for 8 o'clock in the evening on school nights - no exceptions!
It was bullshit.

The only one between my two sisters and I who didn't have a problem with it was my youngest sister, Jackie. I mean, Jackie would join in on the "bitch session" my other sister Jennifer and I would have. She would agree with us on how unjust this bedtime was, but three minutes later, Jackie would be fast asleep - even with her fists still clenched laying above her head.

Daylight would still be shining through my bedroom window for crying out loud!
This is totally insane.

After years of realizing that 8 o'clock was WAY to early for me...just when I couldn't take it any longer - I saw something; I saw something on the ceiling of my bedroom.

It was a bed, a small bed.
There was a small bed (about a quarter of the size of an actual single bed) in the corner of my bedroom ceiling.
And there was someone sleeping in it.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There was someone sleeping in a small bed right above me. I was starting to be able to make out this person's face, even though the daylight that was coming through the bedroom window was starting to fade.
It was a man. He was unfamiliar to me. He looked old.

A nightstand with an alarm clock started to come into view. It was right next to the bed. It was like as if it just appeared out of thin air, but had this feeling like it was always there. I looked around the ceiling for other things and noticed a table and chair, a stove, a refrigerator, a kitchen sink, dresser drawers and...these two doors. Everything you would need to live MOST modestly, like a small apartment.

The Two Doors

Both doors were exactly on the same two walls as my bedroom door and my closet door, but much smaller. I wondered where those two doors led. I began to look around for a toilet and/or a bathtub; didn't notice either one so I thought that one of them had to be the bathroom. The other one might be...
The alarm clock went off. I looked at the man sleeping in the bed. He was up. He was looking right at me. It gave me a chill and my entire body was covered with goose bumps.

He threw the blanket off himself and sat up. 
I couldn't believe this was happening. There was a man living on my ceiling.
He got up and quickly went to the door that was above my closet door.  He stretched, opened the door and went in it. He was gone.

I got up and high tailed it out of my bedroom in search for my mother.
I found her, told her what I saw, and she sent me back.

I slowly walked back and turned on my bedroom light...nothing.

"You just don't want to go to bed."
I turned around. It was my sister Jennifer. She heard everything.

"Whatever," I said trying to sound like I had a handle on things.
I turned my bedroom light off...still nothing.
He was gone. Everything was gone.
So was the daylight that came through the bedroom window.

"Jimmy! Jennifer! Get to bed, now!" my mother exclaimed from the living room. "I'm not telling you again!"

Jennifer gave me this look like she knew I was lying, as she slowly turned, vanishing into the darkness in her room and went back to bed.
I know it sounds crazy but really - there's a man on my ceiling!

I crawled into bed being cautious and weary, but that slowly subsided as I started to drift asleep. I was getting tired. I started to think about other things like school, my cousins, the forest preserve adventures and then I heard it. I heard a toilet flush, but it wasn't the toilet that was the bathroom that separated my sisters room from my room.

I opened my eyes. 
He was back.                   Everything was back.

The door that was above my closet door...I could see light coming from underneath it and was shining on the ceiling. I noticed a shadow, like as if he were standing right on the other side. Then the light turned off and the door opened.

 He quickly walked out and I noticed he was completely dressed. I got another feeling that came over me that told me he was getting ready for work. I felt like he worked at a factory of some sort. He walked around so quickly on the ceiling I couldn't keep up with him. He was always two steps ahead. By the time I knew what he was doing at the fridge, he was already at the kitchen sink. Then, before I knew it...he was gone. He walked out the other door.

This only happened to me ONE other time.
I'll tell you about it sometime.

Thanks for reading.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

There's a Pig-Man in my Basement!

 How I Discovered the Infamous Pig-Man when I was a child.

The Totally True, but Extremely Exaggerated Tales
from James Timothy Peters 

I know you're NOT going to believe me, but I'm going to tell you anyway. There was a "pig-man" living in my dads basement. I don't know how long he's been down there, but when I first saw him I was deathly afraid. I wouldn't go in the basement by myself anymore.

When I first saw him, I was frozen with fear. He was on his hands and knees eating something off the basement floor.

He was eating something like strips of raw meat, but these strips were bright red and bloody looking.

I remained as quiet as I could. I stood perfectly still - I didn't even breath. I just stood there and watched him.

He hurriedly ate at the pile of "strip like" meat slices, just sticking his face down and grabbing strips with his mouth. He had regular hands, he just didn't use them.

The strips of meat would dangle from his mouth, he would slightly shake his head, as if he were trying to shake the life out of that piece of meat.

He reminded me of a vulture pecking at a carcass, scavenging what he could. I noticed he was down to his last two strips of the bright red meat. I could hear him breathing hard, snorting almost. I wanted to go back upstairs.

He wore a black shirt and a camouflage jacket over it, that's all I can remember. He seemed to not worry about being seen, he looked mean.

I began to walk backwards. Trying to remain quiet I stepped back to far and hit the boxed landing at the bottom of the basement stairs with my heel.

Pig-man quickly looked at me. We made eye-contact for about 2 seconds, that's all it took before it sent me running up the stairs screaming in fear. I heard the pig-man squeal something awful and run towards the back of the basement; near the storage room. I heard the piano get knocked into which was next to the storage room door.


At the time, I was alone in the house, which frightened me even more but it was like one o'clock in the afternoon. What it was is that I started to imagine this pig-man running up the stairs chasing after me. But then I heard him squealing beneath me; underneath the living room floor. I was headed out the front door when I suddenly stopped in my tracks. Because of all the rumbling and squealing I was hearing, I decided to stop and listen a little more closely. He wasn't chasing me (thank God)...but I wanted to know what he was doing in the basement? In the storage room no less?

To this day, the hairs on the back of my neck still stand up when I think about what I saw that day.

The Eaton Street Pig-Man

It's not easy to remove a pig-man from your residence, especially ones that have lived among you unnoticed for such a long time. I have no idea how long this pig-man lived in the basement, but my father said that he saw the pig-man in the basement when he was a child. Back then, this pig-man was called "Pig-Boy".

Would you like to Know How to get rid of a "pig-man" or other Demonic Household Pests?


Saturday, January 5, 2013

The Voodoo Spirit Erzulie

The Haitian Voodoo Spirit of Love, Beauty, Dancing, Flowers, Luxury & Jewelry

You Couldn't Ask for a Better Loving Spirit

Her symbol is the heart
Her colors are pink, white, blue & gold
Her favorite sacrifices include jewelry, perfume, sweet cakes & liqueurs
Although she does have a dark side and is considered to be a jealous spirit and some even consider her to be lazy, she can be very compassionate to those who show her gratitude and respect.
She is considered to be the "Virgin Mary" to some worshipers and is the mother to Jesus Christ.
Most Voodoo followers believe in God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost, but they have their own unique spin on things that have been mixed with West African and Haitian Vodou.

She is the spirit most involved when casting a LOVE SPELL. So, it be smart to show her a little attention if you'd like something from her.


Read more writings from James Peters on HubPages.
Read more writings from James Peters on TryJimmy.WordPress

Monday, September 3, 2012

People are Nosey

My Facebook "Block List" & those I choose to "ignore"

That's funny, I would NEVER expose that list!

Did you honestly think that I would let my Facebook "Block List" become exposed - all in the open for the world to see?


I think not.
But if I did, why would you want to check it out?

People are Nosey

Now, if I know you personally, and you were on my Facebook "Friends List", and you heard that I was exposing my Facebook "Block List", chances are you would like to know who made that list. Now, to actually go through the effort in finding out - now, that's a different story.

Nobody wants to be "ignored" and nobody trusts anybody.

If you trust me, chances are greater that you WILL actually take the effort in finding out who made my Facebook "Block List", because you're confident enough to know that you didn't make the list.
Now, if you DO NOT trust me, you don't want to know if you made the list either because:

  • you just don't care (most likely)
  • you just don't want to know
In each case, you have to wonder how you got on my Facebook "Friends List" in the first place.

This generates fear.


Friday, August 31, 2012

Writers Haven Fifth Issue- Urban Legends

Writers Haven Fifth Issue- Urban Legends

A Coincidence

For the past two and a half years I have been walking the grounds of Oak Hill Cemetery in Hammond, Indiana, researching its history through the internet and public records. I’ve found nothing new on the subject of Oak Hill Cemetery; nothing worth digging deeper into. Since my interest in the historic cemetery, Oak Hill Cemetery has seen its share of misfortunes. From trash blowing around the headstones, to fallen limbs atop huge memorial grave markers; it seems nobody is maintaining the grounds. Everything started falling apart for Oak Hill Cemetery’s owner and grounds crew when there was a complaint that there was a pile of headstones and grave markers in the corner of the graveyard right next to a trash bin towards the end of the 20th century.

Just recently, a skull was discovered but the Hammond police report that there was no foul play involved, and that they presume it was caused by the former grounds' crew when they accidentally unearthed and broke through a casket & exposing its contents. This was most likely caused by an inexperienced grounds staff while removing headstones & other grave markers for some mysterious reason. That incident & why it occurred is still under investigation.

The east end of the cemetery runs along Blaine Avenue, which is separated from Oak Hill Cemetery by a set of railroad tracks that are no longer in use. Blaine Avenue runs north/south and the cemetery is on the east side to the street. On the west side of Blaine Avenue are homes that face the cemetery.
One resident, who asks to remain anonymous claims that since 1998, she has seen some pretty strange happenings that she would have categorized as paranormal.

“They dug up that poor soldier boy from WWII and those other innocent souls and now somebody is going to have to make it right… Oak Hill has a way of making things right… she can take care of herself.”
-This is an account given by a resident of Hammond who has been living here over forty years and prefers to remain anonymous-

When our brief conversation ended I wasn't sure if she was talking about the cemetery or its owner, Teresa Roark. When this elderly lady stated that “Oak Hill Cemetery has a way of making things right; she can take care of herself," I was a bit confused and lost for words when I heard her say this. Her eyes were fixed on the cemetery behind me when she was explaining things to me – as if she was talking about an old, hurt friend.

A Reminiscing Story

She told me that she lived in this house across from the cemetery for a long time & grew up in the neighborhood. She used to live on Monroe Avenue (right off Cleveland Street), when she was younger. She remembered when railroad tracks ran between Blaine Avenue & Oak Hill Cemetery & were used very often, almost daily, but one-day something happened to her when she was walking down Cleveland Street.
She was on her way to Lyman Avenue to visit a friend when a train was using those tracks; which made her stand and wait until it ended. Lyman Avenue began off of 165th Street and was just on the other side of these railroad tracks.

While she stood there waiting, she noticed a girl standing in the cemetery through the spaces between the railroad cars. She couldn’t have been any older than 13-14 years old, so being a little to young to know any better, she decided to walk closer to the moving train to see if she could get a better look at this mysterious girl through the open spaces, but the only thing she could make out was her long brown hair and the plain white gown.
She kept looking towards the end of the train to see if the end of the train was near. It was still a good 12 or 15 train cars away, and at the speed of this particular train (it was going no faster than 5mph), it’ll be another minute or two before she’ll be able to get a good look at her.

This wasn’t the first time she had seen a train on these tracks, so it was normal for her to walk all the way up to a moving train; almost to the point where she could touch the train, being extremely careful, of course.
Through the last couple of spaces, she could see this girl standing in the cemetery, she was at least a good 30-40’ away from the inside of the cemetery’s fence, just enough where she couldn’t make out any details about her face.
It struck her kind of strange how this other girl in the cemetery hadn’t moved since this all began. When the second-to-last space of the train cars came by, this elderly lady said she was as close to a moving train as you could get. The second to the last space came and went - and now one more train car to go; one more space.
This is when a cold chill went down my back
When the last space finally came and would enable her to see the girl in the cemetery before the end of the train, it took her by surprise. The girl in the cemetery was now exactly on the other side of the train! She wasn’t in the cemetery anymore!
“She was 6ft away from me…she was wearing a pinkish sweater over her plain white gown now…her face was rotted…teeth were exposed…her eyes were large…her hair was still long and brown…”
I came back a few days later to ask some follow-up questions, but whoever  answered the door told me that the elderly was done talking about Oak Hill Cemetery, and the door was quickly shut.
I walked over to the tracks and looked south and saw how the tracks crossed 165th Street and followed all along Lyman Avenue until 173rd Street. I then looked north and followed the tracks to as far as I could see; the tracks just seem to disappear into the scenery.
I looked back at the cemetery and deep into its beautiful natural landscape. Even though the cemetery hasn’t been properly maintained for so long, the beauty it possesses is “soul elevating."
Oak Hill Cemetery is located at the city’s highest elevated point and there is no point higher within the city limits.
A Word of Advice
We as the residents of Hammond, Indiana have a civil duty to care and maintain of our beloved Oak Hill Cemetery. There is no reason that this cemetery is on the brink of becoming ruins. The founding fathers of Hammond, Indiana are buried there, such as Marcus Towle (one of the first mayors of Hammond who donated land to The First BaptistChurch of Hammond, Indiana) who also has a street named after him that’s located at the north side of Hammond. Once these problems have been resolved, peace should once again fall over Oak Hill Cemetery and its surrounding residents. It is shameful that a historical cemetery such as Oak Hill Cemetery has seen such a terrible disregard. Volunteers from all over the region are making an effort to have Oak Hill regain its respect and its natural beauty.

James Peters was born an “Army Brat” in Fort Knox, KY. He has lived and worked in the Midwest his whole life and is considered to being a “Region Rat." His favorite authors include Anne Rice and Ernest Hemmingway. He has gathered a few authors together and is constructing a website for the future at where he, and a few other creators/writers post their personal stories. James was raised mostly by his mother during his younger childhood and lived with her and his two sisters when his parents divorced in 1975. His mother remarried in 1979 and had another son the following year. James attended Hammond High School where he then was raised by his father. His father was a Hammond police officer, and was rarely around because he also did security watch at Kiel Chemical. High school is where James developed an interest in writing, painting, music and performing.