#Shirley South

[insidecroydon]

Comic Kumar's message for Mayor over Shirley library closure

The likely closure of Shirley Library would be “a devastating blow” for local residents, according to comic and television presenter Nish Kumar. Shirley saviour: comic Nish Kumar has intervened over the fate of his childhood public library Kumar grew up in Shirley and used its public library, where borrowing books “fostered a lifelong love of reading in both myself and my brother”. Kumar has…

[egolifontein]

Shirley Chepape (@ shazyshirley)

[riphimopen]

everyone gets a brick. what they do with it is up to them

[literarysiren]

Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched has a hefty runtime, but you won't even feel it slipping by with as much knowledge packed into this sprawling documentary on folk horror. You can find it on Shudder!

[myobsessionsspace]

**T/W grooming in the music industry**

Johnny Kitagawa

⚫️ Transcript for if you can’t listen or watch

⚫️ YouTube Video Podcast

⚫️ Spotify Podcast

⚫️ Apple Podcast

link

[queenlucythevaliant]

Me, listening to a podcast discussion of Shirley: Man, I should really reread Shirley.

Me, listening to a podcast discussion of Kim: Mmm, no, I should reread that first. It's been too long.

Me, listening to a podcast discussion of North and South: ...Darn it!

[cartmandollie]

Shirley Marsh, the lesbian

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

A terrorist in the PIJ (Palestinian Islamic Jihad) has admitted in his interrogation that they practiced for the Oct 7 massacre on Iranian soil. This is important to remember, that it wasn't just Hamas that committed the vicious attack on Israelis during that day, that the Islamist regime in Iran's involvement was crucial to what happened, and that Gaza was NEVER "an open air prison" as the anti-Israel crowd claimed. The above link has the vid quoted here.

Yesterday, Golani infantry's division 36 has left a section in northern Gaza, as a part of lowering the intensity of the fighting there. A short while later, no less than 50 rockets were fired from exactly that area into southern Israel. Yoram Bitan's shop in the southern town of Netivot took a direct hit from a rocket while he and his son were still inside (pic is from this vid, where the start also shows the barrages of rockets over Netivot). They're both thankfully okay, the building absorbed most of the impact.

Just this morning, at least 25 more rockets were fired from that area of Gaza into Israel, before IDF soldiers managed to find and destroy some of the rocket launchers that were used in these attacks (see pic with just one barrage of intercepted rockets over Israel on the horizon, Hebrew source). If Israel can't lower the intensity of the fighting, that's absolutely also because of Hamas' continued choices. Israeli civilians from the south are currently protesting against the possibility that Israel will stop the war before the complete removal of the threat of rockets being fired from Gaza.

The IDF has confirmed yesterday that it has eliminated more than 150 Hezbollah squads since the start of the war.

I got to watch an interview with Shirley (not necessarily her real name), who was a prison guard where Palestinian terrorists were held. She was sexually harassed by a terrorist called Muhammad Atallah for 2 years. Towards the end of her service at this prison, he told her that her life is being threatened by Amjad Awad, a Palestinian terrorist, who murdered the Fogel family when he was 18 years old, together with his relative, 17 years old Hakim Awad. These are 35 years old Ruti, 36 years old Udi, 11 years old Yoav, 4 years old Elad and 3 months (!) old Hadas in Mar 2011. Amjad and Hakim were actually on their way out of the house, when they heard baby Hadas crying in her crib, returned and murdered her (Hebrew source).

You can hopefully understand why Shirley was terrified when she heard Awad wanted to kill her, and Atallah claimed he could keep her safe, using this to try and rape her in a spot between two gates in the prison where there are no cameras. She fought back and saved herself. Atallah, who is imprisoned for attempted murder and murder as part of his terrorist activity, was put on trial back in 2022 for sexual harassment of Shirley and attempted rape, as well as for raping another female prison guard.

But in the interview I listened to yesterday, Shirley talked about how horrified she is over the possibility that Awad and Atallah might be freed in a hostage deal, where Hamas will demand terrorists with "blood on their hands" be released.

Last night, the IDF presented the findings of an investigation into the cause of death of 3 hostages, whose bodies were retrieved from Gaza. The autopsy determined that they were NOT killed by direct IDF or terrorists fire, but the bodies are in such a state, that it's impossible to determine what did kill them.

These are Michal and her husband Alex Lubnov.

Alex worked as a bartender at the Nova music festival on Oct 7. He was kidnapped to Gaza. Michal is seven months pregnant. This week, she visited the site from which Alex was kidnapped for the first time. She's waiting for her husband to be freed, and be with her at the delivery room.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[insidecroydon]

Perry's porkie pies: Mayor finally admits to his golfing links

After a private golf club held ‘consultation’ meetings with SIX residents’ associations, Jason Perry has been forced to make a U-turn and contradict his previous statements while giving an undertaking not to allow any development on Shirley Heath and Addington Hills public open space. By STEVEN DOWNES FORE! Bunkered: Jason Perry has got himself into a very deep hole of deceit over his talks with…

[railwayhistorical]

Covered Wagons: A Series

This is a southbound freight on the Chicago & Alton, later GM&O, then ICG at the time of the photograph. The location is Shirley, Illinois, just south of Bloomington.

Bloomington was known as a haven for F-units in the mid- to late-1970s. I was able to photograph the so-called covered wagons several times before the charismatic locomotives were ether scrapped or sold off (most in 1977). A couple went to the MBTA: they were rebuilt and served commuter trains in the Boston area.

Four EMD F3s are seen here powering this train headed south toward East St. Louis. I followed the train and will post additional images in subsequent posts.

One image by Richard Koenig; taken November 21st 1976.

[dump-troy-marry-me]

On Sunday, there's six red dots blinking away on Abed's phone screen. Three, clustered around Greendale, their number ever dwindling. One a few miles to the south. Pierce. He hasn't moved in months, but Abed's been keeping an eye on it just in case. One in Georgia (the state, not the country), where Shirley's spun off to. And one more, just off the coast of India.

Troy.

He's not always there anymore; the tracker doesn't always get reception in the middle of the ocean, and there are days when Abed can't even bring himself to look at it. Where he can't bear the possibility that he won't be able to see that little red dot that means that Troy is out there somewhere.

It helps a bit, when he can see it. When everything is too much, and reality begins to fracture around him, it helps to know that Troy is out there. That he's coming back.

Sunday is a good day. And when he wakes up on Monday, the dot is gone, and Troy has left all over again.

[profeminist]

"Vice President Kamala Harris made history as the first Black woman and the first person of South Asian descent in the United States to be nominated to lead a major party’s presidential ticket.

We speak with historian Barbara Ransby about two Black women pioneers who helped pave the way for her historic nomination: former Congressmember Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman elected to Congress who sought the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination in 1972, and civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer, who led the fight to desegregate the party’s Southern delegation at the 1964 Democratic National Convention."

Watch the video and read the transcript here: https://www.democracynow.org/2024/8/23/hamer_chisholm_harris

[fictionadventurer]

The BBC lady blowing my mind by pointing out the parallels between the endings of North and South and Jane Eyre (man brought low after losing his fortune, woman has gained wealth and comes to his rescue so they're now on equal footing).

She also pointed out that North and South is a continuation of issues Bronte explored in Shirley (to the point that Helstone is named after a character there), so I guess I may have to read that book one day.

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 11 - Screams in the woods

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part9, Part 10,

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: Lucy reaches for him, “Don’t let go!”

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, dead animal mutilation, general horror, religious themes, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

**Strap in and get ready for a ride kiddos**

Harris and Margie are looking between Cooper and Lucy, the Bible between them. Lucy had brought it over to show them and ask questions about the names on the front page, but she was now being stonewalled. The whole thing felt ridiculous, Lucy was still doubting the validity of any of what was happening.

“I don’t know about these names,” Harris said, looking over the names, his glasses making his eyes look huge. The large man had been on edge since they arrived, his shoulder scrunched body tight.

Lucy blows some air out through her nose, “You said you were lookin’ for the bible, the night me and Cooper got attacked.”

Margie glares at Harris, “Harris, for Saint Peter’s sake, just tell the girl what you know. Or I will piece together what I can, and give her what I know.”

Harris sighs, Cooper looking at Lucy trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Lucy shrugs at him, fiddling with her cup, her fingers itching for a cigarette. It had been a bad idea to start that up while all this stress was happening.

“Margie, you know I was never close with my Dad. Anything he knew about the bible was passed to Tim. Not to me.” Harris was still trying to skirt the subject, fingers twisting around each other as he looked at everyone. 

“Oh, horseshit!” Margie hollered, the little woman’s face going red, as she glared at him. Lucy was taken aback by the sudden outburst. “Fine. Fine.”

Margie stood up grabbing a black jar and pouring a tall glass. “None of you get any, 'cause I sure ain’t in the mood.” 

Harris, Lucy, and Cooper both cringing back as if being scolded with a belt. Lucy’s heart pounding as she tries to keep herself composed, hoping against hope she gets some answers. 

“Now, the MacLean’s have always had secrets. Their crops always good, and cows are always plump. Back in the day before vaccines, they barely ever lost a child. Heck, I barely ever saw any of them get sick.” Margie took a sip of her black drink. “Now we all had theories, all wondered what they were doing. They never cut back more forest than they needed, and always leased at low rates. Yet they wanted for nothing.”

Margie takes a moment to look at everyone, at the table, before she continues. 

“Then Albert died, and Tim took over. What Harris won’t tell y’all is that the whole family had been practicing devil magic.” Margie states no venom behind her words. “Bring offerings to this forest spirit, god, whatever. Not for me to judge.” 

Cooper fiddles with the edge of his cup, his shoulders moving forward, as he makes himself smaller. Lucy felt her stomach twist, she had never been religious, but calling it devil magic seemed too harsh. Even with the Anton Lavey quote in her Grandpa’s handwriting. 

“Whatever Tim did, it worked. But your Grandma was raised in the church. I loved Shirley and she put up with a lot of stuff. When Tim wanted to bring Hank into the fold.” Margie looked over at Harris.  “She said no. Said all of it had to stop, wasn’t going to be a part of it passing down.”

Harris shifts, taking his glasses off and putting them on the table. “As soon as Tim stopped, things started to go south. It wasn’t instant. It was little things, minor flooding in a field that had never flooded before. Seeds not taking as well as they should. Losing more calves than normal.” 

Margie nods, letting out a sigh, she got up and brought some glasses over. Pouring small amounts for each, before sitting down, still glaring at her husband as he speaks about his family.

“We wrote it off as a bad year.” Harris sighs, fiddling with the cup but not taking a sip. “But it kept getting worse, and worse. Blanche kept telling Harris that he needed to start doing the offering again.” 

Lucy took a sip of the black drink, it was bitter, but also strangely sweet, most likely gooseberries. 

“Shirley kept saying no, and then Blanche died.” Harris swallows, “Found her lying right by her chickens.” He finally takes a drink, wincing at the sweetness. “All her chickens were gone, and the thing had taken her eyes.” 

Cooper looks pale as he stares down at his cup, Lucy finishing hers in a quick swig. She rubs her hand along his knee hoping to help ease him. The thought of her great grandma laid out dead by her prized chickens was horrid.

“So, Tim decided it was time to start up again.” Harris says, “Shirley was beside herself, thought her husband had lost it. “

“But it worked,” Lucy spoke, “Things got better, crops grew, cows birthed easily, no one got sick anymore.” 

Harris nods, finally sipping the drink, “I didn’t want to believe it either. How could bringing a loaf of bread, or bundle of herbs, make the ground seem so much richer.” 

“Why didn’t you tell Lucy?” Cooper interjects, fingers running over the rim of the glass in several circles. 

Harris leans back, taking another small sip of the liquid, Margie pouring everyone a little more of the makeshift brew. 

“Tim said it ended with him.” Harris finally spoke, “When he came to tell me he was dying.” The man looked out into his yard, eyes glassy as he spoke. “He was different, it was the first time I’d seen him look so content with life. Tim kept going on and on about how it was finally going to be over. That he would finally be free, the whole family won’t have to worry anymore.”

“We should have told you Lucy, should have been more forward about the whole situation. But Tim was adamant it was over,” Margie adds, Lucy feels a cold spread of anxiety spill from her ribs out into her stomach. 

“But then we found the coyote head, us being attacked in the trailer,” Lucy states, “But you still kept it from me.”

“I didn’t think you’d be ready for this, especially after what happened. We wanted to give it some time. So you could heal before we dropped the family past on you.” Harris replies, reaching to squeeze Lucy’s hand. She pulls away, a feeling of betrayal still sitting tight in her chest. 

“You’ve barely been here two months,” Margie states trying to calm the room. “We know now, and we can help make it right.”

Lucy shakes her head, “We don’t even know what we need to make right.” She slides her chair backward. “We are going to go help John this afternoon. After that, we should all sit down and go over the journals and bible together, maybe?” 

Harris’ brows furrowed, “Lucy, I don’t think it’s wise to go in there. I know you want to help-”

“It’s my land, my property, my problem,” Lucy states as she stands up, “I am not sitting on the sidelines anymore.”

***

Lucy, Cooper, John, and Bert stand at the edge of the forest, Lucy had done up a crude map of the trails she could mostly remember. She had photocopied them so each person had one, radios, and compasses were passed around. Each ATV was checked over making sure fuel tanks were full. Guns carefully strapped into place, along with extra clips. Lucy hoped they wouldn't need them. On top of that they strapped on crates with rope, knives, tools, and first aid kits, along with anything else they might need. 

“So we each take a trail, stick to the path, mark it as we go so we can find our way out. The yellow fence line is parkland, we won’t go past that. Barbwire is either John’s land to the west or Cooper’s to the east. If you make it that far there should be gates that you can use to circle back up to the road. See anything-” Lucy stops her speech for a moment collecting herself. “I mean anything, weird, strange, cow, whatever, you radio. There is no point in any of us getting hurt. Sunsets around nine, but we should try to get out by no later than eight.”

The men nod, at her words, Lucy surprising herself by how calm and level-headed she felt. Not to mention the men listening to her, and not arguing with what she had to say. It felt odd being the one in charge, but this was also her land. It didn’t feel like hers, it didn’t feel like anyones, but if there was anyone who needed to be held accountable for it it was Lucy. She was tired and scared, but she was not going back down, not now.

“The radios we have should cover the whole area without an issue, if you run into issues and can’t get a hold of us come back here,” Cooper adds, making sure everyone nods. “All the families have been told if they don’t hear from us by nine to send emergency crews in.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Bert chirps, looking out towards the gaping mouth of the forest. 

Lucy inwardly cringing, she and Cooper had decided not to fill in the others about the supernatural possibilities. Having people scared would help no one. Lucy wasn’t even sure she fully believed any of it. Was something really haunting the woods? Was her grandfather really feeding it? Had it taken her Dad? 

“It’s just precaution,” John adds, peering towards their destination and waking Lucy from her musing. “Never know, better safe than sorry.” 

“Well, let’s get going.” Bert smiles, jumping onto the four-wheel, he starts it up and takes off towards the trees. 

Lucy feels her heart clench in her chest, a low ringing buzz just above the sound of the engine. She takes off after Bert, heading down southeast, Cooper goes directly east, Bert goes southwest, and John goes west. The trees had fully flushed out, leaves defusing the light, and the trails were clear despite having not been used much. She rode at a good clip, fast enough to keep moving but slow enough to take in what was around her. 

The radio sits on her handlebars crackled occasionally, Lucy wanted to stop every time it made a sound, but made herself continue. Every shadow, discoloration, and movement had her head turning. The further she went, the darker the place seemed to get. The hair on her arm starts to stand up, even under the heavy sweater. She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, feeling like something was following her. Something was watching her, just on the other side of a tree or bush. 

Lucy stops as the radio crackles, her heart pounding in her chest, waiting to hear anything. When nothing came Lucy went to start up again, when a twig snapped to her right. Head turning almost painfully fast to look that way, nothing. Another snapped behind her, hair prickling at the back of her neck. Turning slower this time, Lucy nearly screams, as a black shadow slinks away behind a tree. 

Her hand is on the radio now, tensed up in a panic, her shoulder gathered up against her ears. With no other movement, she goes to turn the machine back on when it crackles.

“This is John, did someone else go directly west?” John’s voice crackles across the forest. Lucy grabs her compass from her pocket seeing that she is still pointing mostly southwest. 

“Lucy here, I am heading southwest,” Lucy replies, Bert comes over the radio saying that he is also mostly south. It was a tense moment before Cooper replies that he had turned so that he was going northeast. 

“Alright, umm, guess we’ll call that weird then. I am gonna start heading up the northwest side towards the gate.” John radios, before it goes silent again. She couldn’t help but hear the hesitation in his voice, whatever was out there had spotted them.

Lucy takes one last look around her, eyes narrowing in on the grey flesh of a stripped tree stump. She gets off her ATV and walks towards it, her heart thudding against her ears. The image of a fresh coyote head on top of stripped wood flashed in her mind. As she walks up to it she can see bones lying around. If you weren’t looking for it, it would have just blended into the forest. She stops a yard or so from it. The tingling feeling of anxiety rushes down her neck like cold water. 

Turning around in a full circle Lucy could just see further another stump. She would bet money that it was also surrounded by bones. Walking quickly back to her ATV she pulls out the map and marks it approximately. How many were out here?  Was this like the stumps that were in the bible? The illustration had shown sigils or ruins, but now they were worn from years of wear.

She turns her ATV on and continues southeast, eyes peeled for any other out-of-place signs. As she drove she would stop and note down other stumps, if she went and stood at one looking west she could see all of them in what was becoming a half-moon shape. Four total, Lucy’s gut feeling was there would be thirteen, one for each month. Placed on purpose, spaced evenly, all surrounded by bone. Every single one made her skin crawl and made her wonder if she was losing her mind. 

The radio crackled again, Lucy stopping immediately and listening. More crackling, muffled noises, then nothing. Her heart lurched, stomach twisting as she waited for any word. 

“I think-” Interference, “A cow,” It was Bert, “Least what’s left off it.”

“Where are you?” Lucy asked, already turning the machine around so that she could head in the right direction. She’d start to head west and hope that she could find Bert.

“If you head to the main trail-” Static, Lucy fires up the ATV keeping the radio turned up. “Southwest-” Lucy strained to hear, “-go directly south.” His voice seemed softer and softer and Lucy roared towards him. “next fork - west“

“Roger, roger,” We are heading your way, Cooper's voice rang over the radio. She felt her heart clench knowing that he was not far away, it was both comforting and concerning. 

“Shouldn’t be far,” John added, Lucy's heart thundering in her chest, fingers aching from holding onto the handlebars so tightly. She kept looking over her shoulder, searching for something in the woods she couldn’t see. The bumps and jumps of the machine propelled her forward. The trees opened into the middle clearing, Lucy skillfully following down southwest. Behind her she could make out the roar of another engine, looking back she could just make out Cooper’s white hat. 

It was a comfort knowing that he was close behind her, hitting the fork she went south. Her radio crackling but nothing, she continued along the path ducking past brushes as they slapped towards her. Mouth dry as she tries to urge the thing forward. A burst of static echoed louder than the previous almost stopping Lucy. 

“HELP,” 

Lucy grabbed the walkie doing her best to continue to drive one-handed. “BERT.”

“It’s here,”

“What what is it,” John calls out over the radio. “I am not far, Bert. Hold on.”

“Oh god,” 

“Oh god.”

Lucy clipped the walkie back on, riding as fast as the old ATV would go, she could hear Cooper not far behind her. As she hit the fork to head west a scream rang out, Lucy felt her ears ring. Her eyes blurring as the world spun, she blinks several times trying to make her eyes work. 

“Bert, Bert,” Cooper called over and over, Lucy hearing his voice behind her and in front of her as they roared towards their destination. 

Lucy spotting John flying up coming to join the west trail, his hat had been lost somewhere along the way. Lucy slows down to let him go ahead, Cooper now only a dozen yards behind her. Bushes and trees slap her face as they road toward Bert should have been.

As they came up over a hill Lucy had a split second of red lights warning her as she skidded to a stop just beside John. The man was off his ATV, gun in hand as he made his way over to the empty four-wheeler. Lucy parked hers, grabbing her gun and extra clip in her pocket. Cooper is skidding to a stop a moment behind them, the three of them gathering at the empty ATV.  There are skid marks behind the machine, a few scuffs in the ground, and his gun was gone. 

“Bert,” Lucy calls out, his name echoing through the tree, her voice bouncing around like she was in a funhouse. “Bert! Come on, answer us!”

“No sign of the Bert, or the cow,” John says, looking around the place, all of them naturally staying close to each other. Lucy faces one way, and Cooper faces the opposite of her. A perfect triangle as they move. “No sign of anything really.”

Cooper moves over, Lucy watching him as he walks past the ATV. Her eyes spotted what he was looking at, another stump, stripped of bark. Some of the symbols were more pronounced on this one, almost looking fresh.

“Is that another stump?” Lucy asks, moving towards where Cooper is now crouching down. He’d take out a knife to uncover some bones that lay covered in dirt around it. Lucy reaching out to trace over the ruins, the ringing in her ears stopping as she followed them all over the stump.

Cooper looks up, his hazel eyes barely visible under the shadow of his hat, “I saw some when I was driving around. All had bones around them like this.”

“W-w-what are those?” John’s face was pale, his hand fiddling with the stock of his gun. He had walked over to stand near the other two. 

“I am not sure. I don’t remember seeing this many before.” Lucy replies, trying to keep her voice level and calm. Her mind played over all the different illustrations of symbols, people standing around a stump. The face of the coyote flashed behind her eyes. 

“But these are old. Like really old.” John points out, jumping when a twig breaks, his breath is ragged as he looks around. 

Lucy and Cooper both stand looking towards the noise, Cooper swiftly pocketing the knife to replace it with the rifle. They all stand for a moment, the silence swallowing them. 

“Bert! Bert!” Lucy calls out again, hoping that it was him walking back towards them. “Where are you? Call out so we can come get you.”

John was now backing up towards his ATV, Lucy could see that he was shaking as he looked out towards the forest. It felt darker, much darker than it should have been for mid-afternoon. It was as if all the light was slowly being sucked out from around them. 

“Somethin’s wrong,” Cooper murmured, making Lucy jump as his hand clasps her shoulder. He was starting to push her towards the four-wheelers, she could feel her heart start to hammer in her chest. 

“We should call Harris,” Lucy says the dread had now seeped into her bones. Cooper was right, Bert wasn’t replying and there was no sign of him.

“No signal this deep in.” John replied phone in a shaky hand, “Probably thirty minutes from anywhere that would have a signal.”

Another twig snap had them all whirling, again facing nothing but trees and bushes. 

Lucy

Ringing splitting Lucy’s head as her name came spilling from every direction. Double over she covers her ears, trying to get it to stop. Cooper is in the same position, forehead creased as he groans. John stares at both of them as he stands perfectly still, eyes wide, phone dropping to the ground as his mouth falls open.

Cooper

John swings around, clearly hearing what they are. Lucy slowly tries to right herself, her eyes blurry as she tries to focus. Cooper leaning heavily against the stump, the forest is spinning past them. She falls and hits the ground, her body screaming at her to keep moving but it feels like someone has put a lead blanket across her body. 

“John,” Lucy croaks, trying to get his attention. He looks like he is miles away, a small pin prick in the distance. “Go, get Harris.”

John is stooping down behind herm helping Cooper up. “No, I am staying with you.” He is beside her now, his hands under her arms as he hoists her against the machine. 

Lucy - Cooper - John

They all stood now, heads as clear as possible the sound of their names coming from all directions. The echoing impossibly around them as if it was coming from hundreds of different voices, tones, and places. The place is so dark they might as well be in a cave, not able to see more than a few yards ahead of them. The wind picking up moves trees above, sending shivers across all of them, the only noise beside their panting breath. 

“That-what- what the fuck,” John states, eyes wide as he looks around. Lucy barely kept herself standing, her legs wobbly as the voice kept screaming their names

“Lucy!” Bert’s voice carries, this time sounding less like static ringing and more human. 

Lucy moves towards it, her feet moving without thought, Cooper immediately grabbing her arm. “Lucy, we can’t. We don’t know what that is.” 

“It’s Bert,” Lucy protests, trying to move away from him, Cooper’s grip only tightening further. He was right, she knew that, she knew it didn't sound right. Yet she wanted to go to them, she needed to go to them. 

“Lucy, think about this. We need to stop and think.” Cooper demands, somehow breaking through the fog. “We gotta stick together. Can either leave and get help, or we all go look for Bert.”

A screech breaks through the air, right in front of them as John’s body falls forward, something grabbing his ankle and starting to drag him backward. Lucy is stunned for a moment before she jumps forward, gun abandoned as she chases after John. His face rubs against the dirt hands desperately trying to grab onto anything and everything he can. A shot rings out in the air, Lucy instinctively duckling down. Her knees hit the ground and she rolls for a second before she is back up. John continues to scream as he grabs for purchase onto a tree.

Lucy reaches for him, “Don’t let go!” Her hands find his, his eyes wide as he screams.

Part Twelve

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*I I know I know cliff hangers, but what's a horror read without a cliff hanger?

*want to be on the tag list? add your name below

@toogaytofunctiondangit , @hiddlebatchedloki @whatsorceressisthis @dichromaniac @autumncryptids

@therealcozyaxoltol

[yeoldenews]

This is my 12th year posting Dear Santa letters on tumblr.

Over the last decade+ I have read more letters than I could ever count. This year alone I probably spent 50+ hours and read well over a thousand letters just to find the 50 or so I’m posting.

Publishing letters to Santa in the newspaper first became popular in the mid-1890s.

In large cities Dear Santa letters often acted as a method of getting needed clothing and supplies to impoverished children when parents might be ashamed to ask for charity. Subscribers to the newspaper could chose a child’s letter and provide the items they asked for. The most common requests were shoes and coats.

Sometimes newspapers offered prizes for the best letter (which I suspect often acted as another clandestine form of charity as the winners were often letters asking for basic clothing and school supplies.) Though these prizes could range from the ordinary (a sled or a doll) to the extravagant (a $20 gold piece or a live pony.)

Many local stores would enter children in a drawing if they mentioned the store in their letter - which on occasion would result in children hilariously name-dropping every store in town just in case.

Writing Dear Santa letters was commonly an activity done at school, often following some rough form letter. These letters are fairly easy to spot due as they often hype up what a good student the child was and include effusive praise for their teacher (who would likely see the letter before it was sent.)

Through Dear Santa letters you can see how Christmas traditions vary and evolve from place to place. Some places the presents go under the tree, others on it. Some place Santa brings the tree himself and sets it up.

Stockings were hung over the fireplace, or on the doorknob, or at the end of the bed, or by the kitchen stove.

In the Deep South fireworks are were the stocking-stuffer of choice, while fresh fruit, nuts and candy were popular everywhere.

The traditional milk & cookies left for Santa didn’t become popular until the 1930s, though that was hardly the beginning of leaving Santa something to eat. Popular choices prior to the 1930s included cake, donuts, “lunch” (it’s always lunch for some reason, never dinner), and “just help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

Dear Santa letters offer a rare chance to see history unfold through the eyes of children - often in their own creatively spelled words.

1914′s “Remember the children in Belgium” becomes 1918′s “Please visit my brother in France”.

During the Great Depression the very commonly seen phrase “I know you’re poor this year too Santa” gives a glimpse into parents attempts to explain to their children why they might not be getting as much this year.

1939′s “Be careful flying over Europe” becomes 1945′s “Since the war is over you’re making bb-guns again right?”

Requests for toy flying machines become aeroplanes become fighter jets become space shuttles.

Dolls and wagons become Shirley Temple merchandise and Erector Sets become Barbies and Star Wars action figures.

But despite all these changes one thing remains clear throughout 130+ years of letters to Santa - despite the rapidly changing world around them - children have always been children.

I hope you enjoy these letters as much as I do! (All twelve years of posts are tagged “Dear Santa” if you’d like to see more than just this year’s selection.)

Hapy Holadays and Marry Crimes