#sixpenceee stories
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bjornkram · 10 months ago
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First photo is a gif of a multi vortex tornado. The two vortexes are circling around each other giving it the illusion of two legs walking followed by a much larger single vortex.
Second photo is a still image of the same phenomenon but much closer and one of the "legs" is up and almost bent like a knee and there is a smaller third vortex that looks like it's just forming.
Third photo is a still image that is blurry and zoomed in in just the tornado, there are three vortexes all tangled around each other giving it the shape of an arm poking out but the legs are less distiguished.
Fourth photo is a still image taken by Homer G Ramby and is of two thin tall vortexes that look like skinny legs doing high steps
Fifth photo is a screenshot of a post on r/tornado from user ConradShu titled "Deadman walking is not an Indian legend" and reads:
"It became famous with Jarrell and we all know the picture. A specific documentary (I can't remember) from the early - mid 2000s was the first time ever that a multi-vortex tornado was referred to as "Dead man walking" and added it was an "Indian legend". This is false. There are no Indian legends about multi-vortex tornadoes that resemble a walking man. This was added purely for dramatic effect for the show, but since then, has become an adopted terminology for certain pictures that capture the likeness.
Keep in mind, Native Americans weren't out there chasing storms. They could absolutely read the weather decently, and when there was a huge storm approaching, they would take as best shelter as they could. The appearance of a "dead man walking" typically happens so quick, that you only really notice it in pictures. Not even on video really, and it also very much depends on the angle you're looking at the storm from. To say that it was observed by the naked eyes of Native Americans enough for there to be a legend about it is utterly nidicolous.
However, there is terminology of "Dead Man Walking" that does date back to the 1800s. It was used to describe the eerie calmness before a storm hit."
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What are dead man walking tornadoes? :O
it’s a multi-vortex tornado. i dont remember the tribe it originates from (i think it was cherokee), but there’s a native american legend…? saying? that goes “if you see a man in a tornado, you are about to die.”
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the most infamous shot of a dead man walking tornado hit jarrell, texas in 1997
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it did so much damage to the town it caused the scale that tornados are measured by, the fijita scale, undergo revisions, and it made anchoring buildings in the tornado alley region pretty much mandatory. (it took the entire town off the map. only those who had taken shelter outside of the town or in underground bunkers survived.)
two more examples of dead man walking tornadoes looking like a person are a tornado from 2011 that hit cullman, alabama
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and a tornado from 1975 that hit xenia, ohio
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shigayokagayama · 2 years ago
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OH NO! it’s not that at all. I just wanted an excuse to share some neat stuff I found. :) askers are underrated sometimes
(it’s the asker anon again by the way)
also what is a sixpenceee? (or is it a person)
sixpenceee was a tumblr user who was pretty popular in the mid 10s up until she tried to scam a bunch of people with a fake therapy business and also defended child slavery (long story).
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freefallingup13 · 1 year ago
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Ok this has genuinely been killing me for years
I want to find the guy that wrote the plant baby story on sixpenceee’s competition website in 2015
I have been describing it to horrified friends in similar vivid detail to the way it was written
There was a devotion to this story that has entranced me for years. Mainly to the devotion to the plant. And the visceral hatred towards the roommate. Just all of it described in detail.
I had private browsing on because it was graphically sexual about the MC’s attraction to plants, and I was still living with my parents at the time.
I don’t think the website is up anymore, but I know it was 2015 because 2/3rds of the submissions were about trump being a dictator
Plz I need help finding this plant story I just. Wanna talk.
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just-a-queer-fanboy · 2 years ago
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Sixpenceee shared a story about a guy who shot himself, survived, and cured his OCD because he "shot the ocd out". They also contributed to those shitty horror things like "look at this spooky drawing made by a schizophrenic after this he killed his whole family because he was schizophrenic" type of stuff. They kinda just demonize "scary" mental illnesses a lot and i hate it
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butchdykekondraki · 2 years ago
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sixpenceee was bad like even b4 the child slave stuff like. girl she is literally ableist lmfao . half her "spooky scary stories" are just "schizophrenic person bad and evil"
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theoddcatlady · 7 years ago
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Notes Passed At Camp Golden Oak
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I’m so bored. - Sarah
If the Chef catches us passing notes during morning announcements again, we’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. - Marie
He won’t get us in trouble! He’ll just glare before taking them again. You excited for riding horses today? - Sarah
Not really. That creepy Palomino keeps following me. It’s scary. - Marie
Just ignore him! He’s just a wild horse. He’ll wander off when he gets bored. I call dibs on Onyx. - Sarah
What if Michael wants Onyx? - Marie
Don’t be stupid. Michael always picks Patch. And why would I care what horse Michael wants to pick anyway? - Sarah
Sarah you’re not fooling anyone. - Marie
* * *
I think I like Michael. Really like him. - Sarah
Took you long enough. Whatcha gonna do about it? - Marie
I dunno. Probably just pretend I don’t. Michael’s nice, but he’s also nice as a friend. - Sarah
He is. You should totally hold hands with him at the bonfire on Saturday though. - Marie
Ugh, I might skip. Who cares about the Wild’s God anyway? - Sarah
Don’t be like that! I think I actually heard the whispers last time. - Marie
You did not. The Wild’s God isn’t real. - Sarah
I mean, the Brams seem to think so, and so does Chef. - Marie
Girls, note passing during night announcements isn’t allowed. - Unknown Handwriting that’s quite large and blocky, not either Sarah’s or Marie’s.
Well. That was embarrassing. At least Chef didn’t confiscate our notes this time.- Sarah.
* * *
I think I saw a Lost Camper. - Sarah
What???? Is this why you were late to getting back to the cabin tonight? - Marie
Yeah, Michael asked to see me by the bathrooms after light’s out. But on the way back, I heard someone calling my name and I turned… It looked like a Lost Camper at least. A really pale and soaking wet kid wearing a camp shirt. I ran as fast as I could back, luckily the door wasn’t locked or I would be in trouble. - Sarah
You’re not supposed to look back at them. - Marie
I’m fine, Marie. I promise. Nothing bad happens by just looking. - Sarah
So you didn’t kiss Michael? - Marie
Go to sleep or I’m hurling a pillow at your face. - Sarah
* * *
That stupid palomino followed me nearly back to camp this time. I feel sick. - Marie
Ignore him! He’s being a dumb horse. - Sarah
I told Ms. Triggs and she seems pretty mad. She’s gonna go out riding with Domino to chase him away, or at least try. I hope she doesn’t shoot the poor thing. He doesn’t seem mean. - Marie
Of course he doesn’t. But rules say don’t touch the wild palominos. - Sarah
I know the rules Sarah. - Marie
Sorry. I’m gonna go to sleep. - Sarah
* * *
Did you see that thing on the hike today? - Marie
I. Don’t know. I’m gonna pretend I didn’t though. - Sarah
Sarah! It was the Wild’s God! I’m sure it was! - Marie
It was just a stupid tree swaying in the wind. - Sarah
Trees don’t walk. Except in movies. I swore it had a face too. And Domino didn’t spook so it wasn’t something evil. And the Wild’s God isn’t evil. - Marie
Marie, don’t be silly. The Wild’s God is just something the Brams made up to make the camp seem special. Listen, I don’t wanna talk about this. Can we just talk about something else? - Sarah
Please don’t skip the bonfire this Saturday. - Marie
* * *
I’m going to skip the bonfire. - Sarah
Why? Couples hold hands around there all the time! You could be a real couple with Michael. - Marie
Michael thinks the whole ceremony about the Wild’s God is a bunch of crap. So we’re skipping and going to take a walk around the lake. - Sarah
Are you crazy!? What about the marsh? - Marie
What about it? We’re not gonna go near it, it’s gross and smells terrible. And we’re not crazy, we just want to be alone. - Sarah
You’re making a mistake. I’ll tell the Chef if I don’t see you. - Marie
If you tell the Chef, I’ll never talk to you again. Ever. Leave me alone, and don’t even think about sitting near me during arts and crafts. - Sarah
* * *
(Here I found a letter folded up several times and pretty crumpled up. It definitely isn’t from me or even directed to me, but I have no idea how it’s in my things.)
Chef,
My name is Marie. I have a best friend named Sarah. She’s going to try to skip the bonfire on Saturday night to go hang out with Michael. She doesn’t want me to tell anyone, but I’m scared for her. She could get hurt. I know she saw a Lost Camper following her last week, and I’m scared it’ll find her again. Please try to stop her from going. I know she’ll never talk to me again, but I need to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.
Thank you,
Marie
* * *
Marie,
I’m really sorry about what happened. I know you’re probably still sleeping after what happened, but I need to make sure you know I’m sorry.
You were right. I was being stupid. Michael was just so brave, and I want to be brave too. I wanted to impress him. And because of that, I’m never going to see him again.
The Lost Campers. Michael thought one of them was his friend. That was the one I saw after meeting Michael at the bathrooms. They’re evil. They smell like a wet, moldy basement. They started singing the camp song and chased us into the woods. I almost ran into the marsh when you saved me. You stuck a foot in instead though… you had like three leeches stuck to you, I’m so sorry. That must’ve really hurt.
Michael’s still missing. The Brams and some of the counselors have been searching nonstop, but I don’t think they’ll ever find him. He’s one of the Lost Campers now.
I’m so sorry. I should’ve believed you. Because I was stupid, you got hurt, and Michael’s gone forever. I know you’ll probably be going home after you feel a little better. I don’t blame you if you hate me.
Please don’t hate me.
-Sarah
Sarah,
The Wild’s God spoke to me during my dream.
You need to open your ears to him or Michael’s going to lead you to join the Lost.
I will be going home. And I’ll miss you lots. But I’ll see you next year, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.
I don’t hate you. You are and always will be my best friend.
-Marie
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sixpenceee · 5 years ago
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Plaguespreader
By: Arlin Bradley, Twitter: twitter.com/ArlinBradley
I’m infected. You know what I’m infected with. You saw it on the news. The World Health Organization called it a pandemic the other day. I never thought it would infect me. But, it did. Now, I don’t know what to do.
Unlike some people my age, I don’t have a salary. I don’t have any sick days. I used them all when I sprained my ankle in January. Brett says I need a doctor’s note to get paid leave. You know, to make sure I’m not capitalizing on the paranoia to dodge shifts. He doesn’t want to set a precedent. Problem is, I can’t afford the bill. Sure, it’s not a 100k heart attack bill. But $175 for a checkup is almost half a week’s pay. I know I need to self-quarantine. But, I don’t have any savings. I can’t pay rent if I don’t go out and make rent money. You know what I need to do. But, I’m not sure I have the stomach to do it.
I checked the clock and downed a Benylin shot. Forty-five minutes until my shift starts. Gotta get moving. Donning a medical mask, I broke quarantine. 
As I rode the bus, disease spewed from my mouth like a thick green fog. My noxious gases carried malicious little germs. A child looked up at me. Microscopic predators scurried across her skin, into her eyes and mouth. Soon she too leaked green. I imagined her sick and dying. I imagined all the people her infernal vapors would infect. She smiled at me. Smile while you can little one. Smile before the plague begins. 
Getting off the bus, I watched a thousand subtle suicides. A man on a bench licked ketchup off his hand and began leaking green. A little boy sipped from a public fountain and began leaking green. A woman, already leaking, kissed her husband, regurgitating green into his mouth like a mother bird. Misty leak hugged the ground, ripe for breathing. I coughed. Bystanders recoiled. If they only saw what I could see. They would break down in tears. 
When I showed up at work Brett yelled at me and told me to take off my mask. He told me I’m scaring away the customers while spitting leak like a toxic flamethrower. I protested, but he insisted. 
“Just wash your hands.” He said. “It’ll be fine.” He said. 
I washed my hands, dirtying them again the second they touched my breath. By the time I’d gotten ready and clocked in, plague filled the building like a tainted hotbox. I thought about leaving. I thought about running away. But, I didn’t. Instead, I put on a smile and greeted my next victim. 
“Welcome to Burger King. May I take your order?”
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plebeiangoth · 10 months ago
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I mean the nice thing about tumblr is that your dashboard experience is what you make of it. Shame is on me for how long it took me to learn about the sixpenceee thing, but I only know of the other two stories because I fall down probably unhealthy rabbit holes of shocking stories from the internet
How were you not aware of the sixpencee has a child slave saga? Next you’re gonna tell me you don’t know about cummyeyelids toe pendant? Or the bone stealing witch?
the literal who and what of fuck????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
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diamondnokouzai · 3 years ago
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do we think tiktok has a sixpenceee equivalent.
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dailyunsolvedmysteries · 4 years ago
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We have no idea where the glass came from
"One night my mom heard a crash noise in our kitchen but figured I was up and dropped something. The next morning my dad walked downstairs and thought there was ice on the kitchen floor but he said after looking at it, the 'ice' wasn't melting. It was glass shards. They cleaned up the glass which was on the floor, countertops, and even under the lip of the countertops along the top of some drawers/cabinets. It was as if someone stood back and threw a glass object at the wall or something.
"We had no idea what it was from. The glass was too thick to be any of the vases or glasses or even some bowls in the house. We had a huge family meeting in the kitchen trying to figure out what happened and where the glass came from. We still have no idea." - Redditor croyalbird13
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ignisaurumprobat19-blog · 7 years ago
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Intrusion (full story)
Initially published on r/nosleep, user u/IgnisAurumProbat19
I don't know how much time I have. It's been at least five minutes now, and I haven't had that long in months. My name is Miranda and I would never hurt anyone. You need to believe me. I can't let her get caught. If I did, she would leave me to deal with the consequences. I don't want to go to jail for what she did. I would never do what she did. I hope you believe me.
She took over a year ago. I was playing Oui-Ja with two of my friends and I didn't even notice she was there. I didn't notice until August. I could hear her sometimes, but she wasn't loud enough that I'd worry. We all have them sometimes, don't we ? I think psychiatrists call them “intrusive thoughts”. I'd be standing on the platform, waiting for my train, and I'd suddenly think about pushing the person next to me off the platform. Or I'd be getting coffee from the perfectly pleasant and kind barista, and I'd get the urge to throw my coffee right at her face and watch the scalding liquid burn her skin. We all have them, don't we? Psychiatrists say they're nothing to worry about. It's normal, it's healthy. I didn't act on them. I didn't want to act on them. My reaction was simply thinking “wtf, brain?” and moving on. Perfecty normal and healthy.
But it was her. It was her all along.
She was rather quiet until the first time she did something. It wasn't much. My cat scratched my arm, and next thing I knew, she had sent him flying against the bedroom wall. Pickles didn't come near me for two days after that. He kept hissing at me. He didn't understand that she was the one who did it.
It went downhill from there. She started being more and more active, and all I could do was watch.
She never got caught. She's smart, and she never leaves any witness. She knows how to clean out blood and how to dispose of anything or anyone embarassing.
At first, she left regularly, sometimes for hours on end. I usually spent them sitting in bed, afraid to move, not daring to get near anyone. Thankfully, she still goes to work and gets the job done, so I don't have to worry about keeping a roof above my head and food on the table. She feeds me, too. Better than I did. She makes me workout. I haven't been that fit since high school.
But as time went on, I guess she started to enjoy being in control. She doesn't leave very often now. Sometimes she only leaves for a few seconds, so I can't do much. Sometimes she doesn't leave at all, for weeks on hand.
She's been gone for 15 minutes now. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't take the risk of her coming back before I press the “Submitt” button, let alone before what needs to be done afterwards.
I know I haven't told you much, but please believe me.
My name is Miranda, and I would never hurt anyone.
I'm not responsible for what happened.
When they find my body, you'll hear terrible things about me, but you will know. You will know it wasn't me. I needed to make sure that some people would know the truth. Thank you for reading my story. I'm going to end it now.
Please, don't play with Oui-Ja boards. And if you have intrusive thoughts, ask yourself if the voice in your head really sounds like yours.
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maximumjinx · 4 years ago
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The Crib
This is a bona fide true story, my parents talk about it alot, and it’s always freaked me out.
My parents are from South America and both grew up very spiritual with a few real encounters with spirits that I could transcribe at a later time, but this story involves me. When my mother was pregnant she wasn’t prepared to have me. Her friends and family gifted gently used items to her to help out, since she couldn’t afford anything brand new. One thing she loved though, was this crib her friend’s sister gave her. It was practically new, beautiful and untouched and my mother always wondered why it was gifted, since the woman who gave it to her still hand a young baby. Nevertheless, never look a gift horse in the mouth.
I was born, tiny with a full head of hair and light tan skin. I slept in my mothers arms the first few months, since it was easier to feed me that way and she hadn’t had a chance to put me in the crib. All that time. I wouldn’t even nap in it. Of course this got to my mom, why waste such a perfect gift? When I was 5 months old or so, she tried. I refused to go down, screaming and crying like any baby would. My mom was afraid she had spoiled me and now I couldn’t sleep unless I was in her bed. At the same time, my dad was working early shifts at a bakery/coffee shop. He woke up 3:30-4 am to drive down and get the shop open. They had just put the crib in their room, trying to get me to sleep with them while avoiding staying in their bed. My father tells me he remembers waking up as usual, glancing over to the crib to check on me. He saw a figure in the dark, the outline of a baby, at least ten months, bald and standing in the crib. It was staring right at my father. Of course half awake he questioned, did my daughter learn to stand so quick? Has she always been that big? Then he realized I was right beside him, sleeping soundly on my mother’s chest. He panicked, looked again and the baby in the crib was gone. Perhaps he was just too tired. He shook off the encounter and got ready for his day.
Almost two weeks later my mother was getting more frustrated as I refused to sleep in the crib. She finally got me to cry myself out, sleeping uncomfortably. In the middle of the night she must have scared herself, she tells me, because after becoming accustomed to having me on her chest all night it was a shock to not feel my presence. My mother awoke that night before my dad, checking for me in the bed and realizing I was in my crib. She looked across the room, and smiled seeing me there asleep pushed to a corner. Then her heart stopped when she saw I wasn’t alone. Standing, hands gripping the bar was the same baby, in the opposite corner. Pale skin, bald, staring straight at my mother. She quickly shook my father awake, and they both got up to take me out of the crib. The next day she asks the gifter if she had experienced anything strange with the crib.
“I never felt settled around it,” she told my mother, “i would sometimes wake up in the night and think I saw a different baby there that wasn’t my son.”
Turns out this one crib had been passed along and regifted more times than one could count, all hastily given away again as realization dawned. My mother quickly bought another crib, disregarding her finances. Although she did make a bit of money on Craiglist a few days before:
Gently Used Crib! Practically New!
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larndsy-blog · 8 years ago
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Malum
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I was eleven when three children went missing after they were last seen near Malum Cotton’s abandoned house. Their souls gone without a trace. Only never to be seen again. It begins in the summer of 1974. The summer when Malum Cotton’s secrets came into view. The summer where the secrets of Guthrie just began.
To put a disclaimer on the story I am about to tell you, you should know that I write this story with such heartache and loss that I still do not know what to do with. I do not want to leave a single detail of the story out, so prepare for great length. This has been my fifth time trying to write what had happened to my friends and I back in the summer of 1974 and what has happened afterwards. I can still hear our bicycles hitting the gravel. I can still hear their laughter. I can still see Malum Cotton’s house towering over me. I can see it all. It is still eating at me like a still carcass to this day. I give Guthrie the credit.
Guthrie, North Carolina. Population: 910. To me, even now, it seems crazy to think that as much as 910 people lived in the little town of Guthrie. Main street didn’t take up more than two blocks. All that was available to us was Al’s Drug Store, a couple of clothing shops, a movie theater, public schools and two burger joints. If you wanted to go celebrate with a steak, you had to travel up the mountain to the city. If you asked someone that worked in a restaurant in Guthrie if they served steak, they would laugh in your face. I presume that this is how it is still like in Guthrie, given that I haven’t been back in thirty years or so. Either way, that is how it was in the summer of 1974. The summer where the story begins.
In the late month of May, I was already looking towards summer. Elementary school was suddenly fading behind of me while middle school was in the clear. Thoughts of making the baseball team with Jesse filled my heart with hope for my middle school future. Those were my exact thoughts as I sat in Miss Davies’ fifth grade class, ignoring her lecture on fractions. I wondered if I would be lucky enough to become the pitcher.
“Mikey?”
I can still hear her voice to this day. A voice that sounded as if it had been drenched in candy. I snap out of my daydreams and look up at her peering over at me in her round reading glasses. The class has already snapped their necks in my direction. I can feel a hot flush rising to my cheeks.
“Yes, Miss Davies?”
Miss Catherine Davies will always and forever be the prettiest teacher I ever had. While she was very plain looking, there was something about her that always made you want to smile. As she looked at me, her hazel eyes flickered with amusement. She knew she caught me in one of my day dreams. From beside of me, I could hear my best friend, Jesse, snickering. I cut him a quick glare, but that doesn’t stop him.
Jesse Albright, my other half. He was just as scrawny as me, only he was taller. His red hair stood out like a red stoplight. You could never miss Jesse. Especially with his loud laugh, horrible jokes and his great height for an eleven year old.
“Can you tell me the answer to this problem?” Miss Davies asks.
I have always been bad at math. As my heart jumps to the middle of my throat, I quickly see a movement coming diagonally from my right. A paper is pushed in my direction where I see a fraction that is circled two times. I take the chance and I jump.
“Eleven over twelve?” I offer pathetically.
Miss Davies gives me a knowing smile before writing down the answer underneath the problem on the chalkboard before she goes on to the next equation. I look at the paper that was pushed in my direction once again and see that it belongs to Samantha Samuels. She looks over her shoulder and gives me a quick smile before offering a shy glance to Jesse. I smile back. Samantha Samuels was a shy, quiet girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She lived with her father, who was known for his violent outbursts here and there. Samantha Samuels wasn’t pretty or good looking. She was beautiful. Despite her hand me down clothing and unstyled hair, she was beautiful. I could agree to that much. Jesse did too. Given the red that he was trying to hide on his face.
The bell rang almost instantly. It didn’t take long for Jesse and I to be out of that school and over to the bike racks where our bikes were parked. Only one more week until summer vacation. We were almost free.
“Eleven over twelve,” Jesse mimicked with a boyish grin. “You were blushing so hard that you looked like one of my mom’s tomatoes!”
“I could say the same for you,” I threw back at him as the two of us hopped on our bikes. “Your face turned ten different shades of red whenever Samantha Samuels looked at you. I’m surprised your eyes didn’t pop out like a cartoon character.”
Jesse’s boyish smile faded as the two of sat on our bikes. I couldn’t help but laugh as I looked at the expression on his freckled face.
“Shut up,” Jesse spat. “Samantha Samuels is gross. If anything, she’d turn my face the color green.”
“Well, I think she’s pretty.” I lamely offered.
Looking to my right as we began to ride our bikes, I see Samantha Samuels sitting on the school steps while tying her old sneakers. Connie Bridgeway and Patty Carson pass her while laughing to one another. I watch as Samantha Samuels’ face flushes a deep red. I look back to Jesse and see that he is watching, too.
Jesse shrugged before changing the subject. “Mom’s thinking about sending me to that church camp my cousin goes to. Hell will freeze over before I go to that.”
“Hey, I’d consider myself lucky if I went there. I’d love to be away from home.”
“The only upside of church camp is that the place would be a Janie free territory.”
Janie, who usually went by Janie May, was Jesse’s bug eyed and very annoying little sister. Yet she was only six in 1974. But to us eleven year olds, she had to be the most annoying thing on the entire planet.
The North Carolina air was already getting thick with sticky humidity as Jesse and I drove past the cinema and Al’s Drug Store. Cutting across the road to where our houses weren’t even three blocks away, we knew we had to make a little pit stop. Just as we always did every single afternoon after school. Pine View Street was quiet and pretty much deserted, except for the occupied two storied home that housed Mr and Mrs Lancaster, who had lived in Guthrie since the damn town was given the name Guthrie. Children’s laughter could already be heard from the other block. Yet it was almost empty in a way, just as it was distant. I can still remember the feeling of stopping my bike in front of Malum Cotton’s. The world went quiet and cold. A chill still runs up my spine to this day whenever I think about it. The two storied peeling white columned house with broken windows and a long wrapped around porch that was clearly sinking in. The shutters were a faded blue and the curtains that hung behind of the broken windows were the color of piss yellow. Just standing in front of the house that was on Pine View Street made you feel as if you were about to vomit. I am guessing that most of you are wondering what the hell is a Malum Cotton. If I were you, I would be guessing too.
The story has went around Guthrie for generations. A story that has been spread through my grandparents, my parents, and me. This was a story that would be whispered in the school hallways or told by a campfire on a chilly Halloween night. This was the story of Malum Cotton.
As the legend went, Malum Cotton’s real name was Lucille Dresser. She was a very beautiful and popular socialite in the town of Guthrie in the 1930’s. She came from a well respected family who attended church regularly and was well to do with Guthrie’s community. Lucille had caught many eyes of men, yet was never particularly interested in any of them. By the time she was twenty two, her family was beginning to worry if she was to settle down or not.
Lucille met Jonathan Cotton through a meeting that her parents had arranged and the two hit it off instantly. Jonathan was a prominent railroad owner near Asheville and was quite wealthy. The two eventually married and moved into the same two storied white columned house that Jonathan had built for Lucille, since she wanted to stay in Guthrie so she would be close to her family.
Throughout their first ten years of marriage, they had lost two children about a month or so after they were born from unknown causes. While the couple managed to work it out, all things went into chaos when the third child was clearly born healthy, and died mysteriously just five months after it was born. Jonathan became distraught of his third child’s death. He began to become suspicious of his wife after finding an odd symbol that was burnt onto the baby’s thigh that matched a symbol that was on one of Lucille’s broaches.
Jonathan went to his wife to confront her with the accusation of her killing their third child and quite possibly their other two. She denied his allegations time after time again with her telling him that she would never do such a thing. Deep in sadness, however, Jonathan stormed out of the white columned house and never saw his wife again.
Lucille instantly became distraught. She waited for her husband to come back to her day in and day out. After a month or so, she was no longer seen in the public of Guthrie. She had withdrawn from her family all together. After her parents and last remaining relatives had either moved or died, Lucille cut her ties from the rest of the world and lived in pure isolation.
Rumors began to spread that Lucille had became an active member in the occult. While often having close friends borrow books from the library about the matter.
Children began to go missing in 1948. Twelve, to be exact. All who were last seen near Malum Cotton’s. It was then that the people of Guthrie had began to see Lucille once again. Yet she was always out at dark, walking around the streets of Guthrie with a shawl pulled over her head to where no one could see her face. As she would walk, people have said that she would whisper a terrifying rhyme.
On looking up, on looking down. She saw a dead man on the ground.
And from his nose unto his chin, The worms crawled out and the worms crawled in.
Then she unto the parson said: “Shall I be Malum when I am dead?”
“Oh yes, Oh yes!” The parson said.
“You will be Malum when you are dead!”
I later find out that this was a very old nursery rhyme from 1842. The rhyme had been heard so many times by her, the people of Guthrie soon began to call her Malum Cotton. With half of the people not knowing what Malum meant in Guthrie, it only took one quick dictionary search to have a chill run up your spine. Malum is a latin phrase meaning wrong or evil in itself.
Of course the people of Guthrie suspected Malum Cotton of the missing children, yet no one could prove it. Even though children screamed about seeing Malum Cotton peeking into their windows at night. As the years went by, children still went missing. Yet it was never like the Guthrie Child Vanishings of 1948. When Malum Cotton died in the 1960’s, no one had known that she really had died. It wasn’t only when a high school teenager called the police when she walked by Malum Cotton’s house after smelling a rotten odor. Malum Cotton was at her end. Her decomposed body was found in her bed. Rumors say that her body had literally turned into stone. Some say that there were bodies of children hidden throughout her house. Yet I had always doubted that much.
While Malum Cotton had died of what seemed to be natural causes, the legend didn’t stop there. After she was buried under her original name, Lucille Dresser Cotton, the hauntings and sightings began. Children who walked past her house swore to hear the terrifying rhyme coming near the house. Some even claim to have seen her decomposed face peeking at them through the window with a leery smile. Whatever was true and what was not, the legend lived on strongly. It didn’t take a whole lot for a bunch of kids to go throwing rocks at Malum Cotton’s house while calling her a baby killer before running off shitless.
I thought of this as Jesse and I stared up at Malum Cotton’s skeleton of a house.
“I gotta baby in my backpack for your supper!” Jesse called out with a snort.
“Dude, stop.”
“What?” He asked wide eyed. “Oh,” He laughed. “I get it. I shouldn’t tease her.”
I rolled my eyes with a smile as I pushed up my glasses. The heat was already starting to make them fog up.
“Baby love, my baby love…” Jesse sang loudly towards the house.
I threw a pebble that was caught in my bicycle’s basket at him which made him laugh.
“Y’know, I’d just like to see the old cow once,” Jesse drops his bike. “Just to see if she really is rotting like everyone says she is. I bet she isn’t.” His eyes flicker with amused mischief. “How would you feel?” He crossed his arms and pretended like he was being serious. “If the entire town was calling you a decomposing corpse?”
“You’re so full of shit that I’m surprised your eyes ain’t brown, Jess.” I laugh. “If you saw Malum Cotton you’d be running for the hills.”
“Nah, I’d be wondering how she made her witches brew.”
The two of us laughed as we hunted for rocks to throw at Malum Cotton’s windows. I know it was wrong. But hey, we were eleven year old boys.
“On looking up and looking down, she saw a dead man on the ground!” Jesse threw a rock. “And from his nose unto his chin, the worms crawled out and the worms crawled in!”
I threw a rock as far as my skinny twig of an arm would allow. “Could you imagine having worms crawling in and out of your body?” I winced. “If I were dead, I would haunt those worms.”
Jesse picked up another rock and threw it strongly, hitting a window dead in the middle. He smiled proudly before looking over at me.
“I’m not going to be buried,” Jesse stated. “I’m going to be frozen under Disneyland like Walt Disney.”
“That’s bull.”
“Oh, really? Tell that to the news, Mikey Harrison!”
“Fine,” I laugh. “I’ll tell both of our moms that whenever we die, we want to be stuffed into a freezer.”
“Like in that one comic,” Jesse points out. “Then when it’s the year 3000, someone can thaw us out.”
“And ride jet packs all day?”
“And ride jet packs all day.”
“I wonder what Miss Davies will say about being frozen,” I wondered aloud. “She’s smart, maybe she’d know.”
Jesse curled up his nose. “Miss Davies might be a babe, but she won’t know that much about frozen dead bodies. And besides,” He chuckles. “She’ll probably send you in the loony bin if you ask her about that.”
It was then that I start to think about my dad.
“I don’t want no fairy for a son,” He would tell me as he would watch me try to draw a character out of one of my comic books. “Go get Heath to throw the ball with ya.”
“I just got back from practicing baseball, Dad…”
“You and I both know that baseball is a lame excuse for a sport,” He snarls in disgust as he already makes his way away from my room. “Put up the fairy books and come outside. I’m not asking, I’m telling!”
I’m not asking, I’m telling!
His words echo throughout my brain. I can see Heath’s face, giving me a smart ass knowing look as Dad walks away. For eighteen years old, he acted even younger than me at times. But that didn’t matter. Nothing ever mattered if you were the high school quarterback. Or if you had been nominated Homecoming Queen two times, like my older sister, Judy.
I throw a rock so hard that my glasses almost fall off. “I’m already in the looney bin,” I tell Jesse.
I can feel Jesse’s eyes on me. I turn back and see that I was right, he was staring at me with concern and worry. He offers me a friendly half smile and hands me the biggest rock that is in his pile. I return the smile as I accept the rock.
“Heath might be a good football player,” Jesse begins. “But you’re smarter. Heath is a dumb ass.”
“Everyone must love a dumb ass, then.”
“Your old man’s a dumb ass too. Dumb asses love dumb asses.”
“And dumb asses hate smart people?”
“Hell yeah they do,” Jesse firmly stated. “Your old man is intimidated by you. He probably doesn’t know what to say. Same with Heath and your mom.” He then snickers. “And especially Judy.”
Pushing up my glasses, I let out a sigh of pure stress. “Sometimes I just think they hate me.”
“Well, I don’t hate you.”
The two of us shared an awkward friendly look before quickly turning the conversation to something else.
“I totally saw through Miss Davies dress today.” Jesse offered.
“Liar, liar. Pants on fire.”
“Oh, really? Ask me what color underwear she was wearing?”
“What color underwear was she…?”
“Hey, Fags!”
The voice of the devil himself interrupted me like a loud firecracker. The voice that belonged to David Link. The biggest bully in the fifth grade. He was already thirteen, with him failing the fifth grade two times in a row. I can still remember his greasy brown hair and his dirty brown eyes. Beside of him stood Travis Danforth, who was my age and was also in the fifth grade. While he was also a bully, he was David’s follower. Wherever David Link went, Travis Danforth went. Travis came from a good family, unlike David. It had always surprised Jesse and I how a somewhat decent kid like Travis was doing hanging out with the likes of nasty David Link.
It was far too late to run. David and Travis were already ten feet away from us on their bikes. David’s grin showed Jesse and I his rotten teeth. Jesse and I ran to our bikes, but like I said, it was far too late.
“You two making out with Malum Cotton?” David Link grins as he drops his bike and turns his hands into fists. Travis does the exact same.
“Well, we were just about to until you rudely interrupted us.” Jesse the smart ass replied.
I could see that Travis was trying to hold back a laugh. David turns and gives him a look that makes him stop.
David suddenly grabbed Jesse by the shirt. Travis did the same for me, only he offered me a quick punch in the gut that made me cry out.
“Hey!” Jesse called out. “I’d watch it if I were you, Danforth! Won’t Mommy put you in timeout?”
David pushed Jesse down and kicked him in the side, making Jesse wince in pain. While trying to fight back, Jesse knew it was impossible. David gave him a punch to the side of his eye and another in the gut. Travis only busted my lip and freaked the fuck out when he saw that it began to bleed.
“I’ll kick the smart ass outta you,” David punched Jesse in the nose. I tried to get up to help but Travis only kicked me back down. “I’ll kick the smart ass outta you, I’ll kick the smart ass outta you…”
I could taste the bitter taste of blood as I hazily watched my best friend pathetically offering punches to the much stronger and larger boy. His nose was already bleeding. It made me wonder if it was broken.
The second time I tried to get up, I was successful. I pushed David off of him, yet only I was to be pushed back down once again and be pin held by Travis. I thought we were dead men. I really did. It wasn’t until I heard a sweet, sing song voice fight for our defense.
“Hey!”
David and Travis look up. Somehow, Jesse and I find the strength to do the same. Standing there at corner of the block is none other than Samantha Samuels. She is glaring at the two boys, who are merely glaring right back. Yet there is caution in their glares.
“Leave them alone or I run to the police station!” She threatens as she runs over to the four of us. I see her wince at the blood.
David laughs like the devil himself. “Go ahead, girly. I’d like to see you run a mile and back.”
The two boys share a laugh while Samantha’s face turns a bright red.
“Leave… her alone…” Jesse manages to croak out, which surprises me.
Travis raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Oooh, are we messing with someone’s girlfriend?”
“Is Jesse cheating on Samantha Samuels with Malum Cotton?” David joins in.
“If you don’t leave them alone, I’ll scream my head off.” Samantha states plainly. “I’ll scream bloody murder until someone comes. And I’ll tell! I’ll tell on the two of you hicks!”
“Oh, really?” David pushes. “I would like to see you…”
Samantha’s scream didn’t only burst your eardrums, it made the birds in the trees stop singing. I was surprised to see that no cars stopped by the sudden nails against a chalkboard noise. The four of us covered our ears as she did, in fact, scream bloody murder.
“Okay, okay!” David stops her as we all lower our hands down. “Ain’t you a bitch…”
“Hey!” Jesse croaks once again.
David pushes him back down. “I’ll be back for your ass.” He then looks at me and jams his finger into my chest. “And yours, too!”
Jesse and I sit up on the road in front of Malum Cotton’s house as we watch David and Travis disappear around the corner on their bikes. Once they are truly gone, Samantha holds out both of her hands and lets us up.
“Thanks, Samantha.” I tell her as a I wipe the blood off of my lip with my shirt. “We’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you.”
Samantha smiles and it lights up her entire face. “No problem. And it’s Sam. I hate it when people call me Samantha.”
“But Miss Davies calls you Samantha.”
“I told her to call me Sam but she always forgets,” She shrugs. “My friends call me Sam.”
I smile. “Okay, Sam.”
Looking over at Jesse, I catch him already staring at Sam.
“Y’know, I think we pretty much had it under control,” He laughed, even though he had a bloody nose that had blood running all the way down his neck. His damned teeth were even red. “But, hey. It’s always good to use an extra hand.”
“Oh, yeah.” Sam raised her eyebrows. “You two sure did look like you had it under control.”
The three of us stand in silence for a moment. While it should be awkward, it wasn’t. It was a comfortable silence. A silence as if the three of us had known one another for a lifetime. It was soon broken by the touch of Sam’s hands on both of me and Jesse’s arms.
“Maybe you guys should go to the hospital,” She said with worry. “You guys look terrible.”
Jesse didn’t listen to a thing she said. Right when she touched him, his eyes got as round as pancakes before snatching his arm away as if she were on fire.
“Oh, I think we’re alright.” I tell her with faked confidence. “A little blood ain’t all that bad. Is it, Jesse?”
“Not bad at all,” He agrees while looking like an idiot while he is smiling with his bloody teeth.
“What are you doing over here anyways?” I curiously asked. “I didn’t think you lived near Pine View.”
Sam’s pretty face suddenly became nervous. “Oh, um…” She stops and thinks. “I was just walking around town before I heard David Link’s voice. I peeked over the corner and saw you two. I couldn’t just walk on by, you know.”
I nod and accept her answer as a perfectly reasonable explanation.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t just walk by.” I confess.
She blushes as she smiles.
Jesse hits me in the side while giving me a what the hell are you doing look. I shrug.
“Want to go over to my house with us?” I ask then as me and Jesse retrieve our bikes. “I got some new comic books for my birthday that we were going to look at.”
Jesse and I watch as her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh… I…” She stops and smiles brighter. “That’d be okay, I guess.”
“Cool,” I grin. “We’re just gonna have to sneak into the back door so me and Jesse can wash up. My mom will have a cow if she sees us like this. You’re gonna have to hop on the front of Jesse’s handlebars. I’d let you ride on mine, but they’re already loose.”
Jesse’s face matches his hair as I tell Sam this. Sam smiles and instantly hops on once Jesse is all set to go. So there we go, two bloody kids and a pretty girl down Pine View Street, leaving Malum Cotton’s house behind. Yet as we were leaving, I could have sworn that I saw one of the curtains slowly move. I take a double look at the curtains, yet they are as still as they can be.
“I like your bike,” Sam complimented as Jesse cut the corner in front of me to the next block. “Can it go fast?”
Without reply, Jesse only smiled before pedaling like a madman. Sam squealed with surprise as the two sped down the next block. I smiled as I watched them. I had a small feeling that this would be the start of something good.
Thankfully my mom was at the grocery store and my dad was still at work. But unfortunately, Heath was there making himself two sandwiches as the three of us unsuccessfully snuck through the back door.
“Jesus,” Heath laughed, which made the three of us jump. “Whose fists did you run into?”
I rolled my eyes at his presence. He was still wearing his jersey like it was a normal shirt and his brown hair was wet with sweat from football practice.
“Heath, just don’t tell Mom or Dad…”
“Or Judy!” Jesse shudders.
“It was David Link again, he snuck up on us.” I pathetically confessed. Although I already knew where everyone was, I still wanted to be completely sure. “No one else is home, right?”
I knew if I lied to Heath he would never believe me. It was always better if I told the truth to him. Even if I did have to suffer the consequences.
“Sure, he snuck up on ya.” He laughed. “Haven’t I taught you how to fight, kid?”
“Stop calling me kid.”
“Whatever,” He takes a bite out of his first sandwich. “Mom is grocery shopping and Dad’s at work. Judy’s at cheerleading practice. Do my chores for the next week and I tell Mom and Dad that I saw you and Ginger over there fall off your bike.”
“No way!” I objected instantly. “That’s bullshit!”
“Take it or leave it,” He shrugs. “I’d hate for Mom to march up to the school and demand to see David…”
“Fine!”
“That’s the spirit,” Heath clapped me so hard on the back that it almost flung me over. “You guys look like shit.”
We watched as he left the kitchen to go downstairs to the basement, which was where his room was. Once I knew for sure that he was down there, I groaned and rolled my eyes.
“Asshole!”
Sam offers me a sympathetic smile. Jesse is already heading upstairs towards the bathroom so that he can clean up.
“I’d help you with the chores if I could,” Sam pipes up. “It’ll be okay, Michael.”
“Mikey,” I reply. “My friends call me Mikey.”
I smile at her as we head upstairs together. It is there that I notice a small purple bruise on the side of her neck. I don’t address it, I only stare at it for a moment before turning away. She could have accidentally bumped into something. But I was smart enough to know that that wasn’t the case.
“Hey, my nose isn’t broken!” Jesse’s voice stampeded happily through the hall. “You can barely tell that ass wipe even touched it!”
He comes out as good as new. Yet he still winces as he walks. He slowly lifts up his shirt to reveal a large bruise that was the same color as Sam’s.
“This is probably gonna get worse, though.” He hisses painfully through his teeth. “But I can hide it.”
After I eventually clean up, the only thing that is visible is a very clear bruise on my hip and on my chin. When I go into my room, Jesse and Sam are already sitting in the middle of the floor laughing with one another as my comic books are spread out like toys.
“I do not,” Jesse laughed as he flipped through one of my comic books.
“Do too,” Sam said as she pulled at her raggedy shirt. “There’s still blood all in your teeth.”
“Good, I can save it as a snack for later.”
There was an instant connection with the three of us as we all sat down and looked at comic books together. Sam was clearly lost in the comic book world, yet Jesse and I were very eager to welcome her. We explained all of our favorite characters to her and what their backstories were. Her eyes lit up with excitement, which just fed into our own passion for comics even more.
We spent a good half hour looking over at comics and discussing them with one another before Sam announced that she had to be home soon.
“You really don’t have to go, Sam.” I make sure to tell her. “Jesse’s staying over for supper if you want to stay. My mom really won’t care…”
“No, it’s fine. I have to be home for my dad.”
The purple bruise on her neck.
“Well, you should stop by at Malum Cotton’s house tomorrow. We can all meet there and go exploring.”
She gives me a sweet smile. “I’ll see.”
“Heath, Mikey!” Mom’s voice boomed from downstairs, making all three of them jump out of their shoes. “I have groceries down here! Go out to the car and help me unload, please!”
“I really gotta go,” Sam said once again. “I’ll try to meet you guys at Malum Cotton’s tomorrow around nine. I can finish my chores early before then. Thanks, Mikey for having me over. Bye, guys.”
“Bye.” Jesse and I said in unison.
“Boys! My hands are absolutely full!” My mom’s voice yells once again.
After helping Mom with the groceries, Jesse offers to take Sam home on her bike. She declines and says that if her dad sees her with a boy, he’ll get mad. So the two of us watch her from the doorway as she walks down my street and past Pine View. I could hear Jesse sigh as he watched her walk away.
Jesse, who was expecting an ass whooping from his mom since he didn’t call her to tell her where he was, left after supper. He screamed gross slurs as he rode off on his bike, which made me laugh until my stomach began to ache. I went to bed early that night, thinking of new friends and opportunities. Dad came home late from work that night. I could hear the loud noises his work boots would always make. If I would have stayed up, I would have heard the sounds of his complaining grunts and groans. But I didn’t hear those since I was already asleep.
I got up early the next day. Mom, Dad and Judy were already up while Heath, surprisingly, wasn’t. I ate breakfast as quick as I possibly could. Since it was Saturday, I had the whole day laid out in front of me. I hummed The Loco Motion as I rode my bike a couple of blocks over to Jesse’s house. Janie was already out on Jesse’s front porch, playing with a big pink ball.
“Mikey!” She grinned.
“Movie it, Janie May.” Jesse said under his breath as he came out the front door. “Bye, Mom!”
“Jesse’s mean,” Janie shakes her head with a pout.
He grabbed his bike and hopped on it before I could even blink. Jesse’s mom came onto the front porch and scooped up Janie in her arms. “Jesse, I want you home to eat lunch!”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Jesse said, almost sarcastically.
Once we cut the corner from Jesse’s street, I began to talk.
“You excited to see Sam?” I ask with a laugh.
Jesse blushes as he frowns. “Why the hell would I be excited to see her?”
Laughing, I shrug. “No reason.”
“Y’know,” Jesse starts with a grin. “I bet Malum Cotton’s tongue still works…”
“Jesse…” I shrivel up my nose and laugh.
It doesn’t take long for Jesse and I to reach Malum Cotton’s. I check my watch and read that it’s already nine fifteen. Sam is sitting on Malum’s rotting steps with a book in hand, smiling when the two of us reach Malum’s yard. She closes the book and lays it down on the steps before walking over towards us.
“Sorry we’re kinda late,” I offer shyly. “So, where do you wanna start exploring?”
Sam’s blue eyes light up with determination as she shrugs. “I think I have to tell the both of you something before we start exploring.”
“Like what?” Jesse asks.
Getting it out of her pocket, Sam shows us a small broach with the weirdest looking symbol on it. When it clicked, Jesse and I gasped.
“No way!” I say in amazement. “Where did you find this?”
“Right there,” Sam pointed to a green, grassy spot. “It was half buried. If the sun hadn’t have shined on it, I would have never saw it.” She begins to fiddle with the broach. “I come over here a lot when I don’t have to do my chores. I lied about yesterday. I was already on my way to Malum’s when I heard David Link’s voice. I love to try and look in the windows.”
“How do we know if it’s the real… well, you know…”
“You can tell that it’s old,” Jesse surprisingly offers over Sam’s shoulder. “You can tell that the yellow cloth around it used to be white.”
Sam grins at him, making him blush. “I think it’s real. I’ve never seen a symbol like this before. It’s so… creepy looking.”
“Did you ever see anything inside of the windows?” I quickly asked as I hopped onto the porch.
“Barely,” Sam replied. “It’s so dark in there.”
“Have you ever tried to go in?” Jesse asks her.
Laughing, Sam raises her eyebrows. “I might be crazy but I’m not that crazy.”
I cup my hands over my face before I look into Malum Cotton’s windows. From what I could see, this would have been a sitting room of some sort. Old, yellowed sheets have been draped over the furniture. A fireplace sits against the wall with a vanity mirror hanging over it. There were also pictures hanging up on the wall. I try to get a closer look but Sam was right. It was too dark to see anything.
“See anything?” Sam wonders aloud.
“No,” I sigh in disappointment. “Just a bunch of old furniture.”
“I wish we could go in,” Jesse suggests. “Find that old Malum Cotton ourselves.”
“You and what army?” I snicker.
“It’s kind of sad, really.” Sam begins, drawing in both mine and Jesse’s attention. “To think of Malum Cotton as a monster. What if she was just… well, you know… sick?”
“What do you mean by sick?”
“I mean mentally sick. Like she needed help. What if she needed help?”
“She killed kids, Sam. She wasn’t a nice person.”
Sam is quiet for a moment as she looks up at the bright blue sky.
“I do think that she did it,” Sam confessed. “I just don’t know why. Why would such a normal girl end up so crazy? I just don’t get it.”
“Because the worms crawled out and the worms crawled in,” Jesse laughed.
The three of us shared a laugh as we sat on that porch. It is then that Jesse notices another bruise on Sam’s body. Before me this time, surprisingly. I see his eyes widen with concern.
“Sam, what’s…” He points to the bruise that is almost shaped like a handprint if you look at it hard enough. It rested on her upper leg and could be seen when Sam’s shorts would ride up just a bit.
Sam tugs her shorts down as her face turns a bright red.
The bruise on her neck. It’s still there. Jesse sees it now since her hair is in a ponytail today.
“And… your neck?” He asks slowly, almost cautiously.
Sam stares at the both of us for a long time. The silence is thick in the air. Almost feeling as if it is hanging over us like a raincloud. Tears are clouding her blue eyes. It suddenly makes me very uncomfortable, since I have no idea what to do.
“Why do you think I want to come to Malum Cotton’s so much?” She sniffles through her shaky voice.
Jesse and I are silent. We do nothing but wait for her to finish talking patiently. The moment reminded me of something my mom used to tell me. Sometimes silence is the best way to cope with certain things, she once told me. Because in certain types of silence, more than a thousand words could be explained without even trying at all.
I take my glasses off and wipe them off with the sleeve of my shirt before putting them back on.
“You don’t have to say it,” Jesse bluntly says. “We’re your friends. We understand.”
“I hate home, too.” I confess. “It’s hard. It sucks. But… it’s whatever.”
“Yeah,” Sam smiles. “It’s… whatever.”
We stayed on Malum Cotton’s porch for the next hour. Jesse begins to show his many impressions to me and Sam, making us laugh until we thought we could no longer breathe. Jesse’s impressions would focus around Ricky Ricardo from I Love Lucy and J.J from Good Times. We talked about Malum Cotton. We talked about the missing kids. We talked about school and summer break. We talked about home. To put it in less words, it didn’t take very long for the three of us to become best friends.
“I saw a bunch of honeysuckles down behind the library,” I offered. “Wanna go and find some?”
“Good, I’m starving.” Jesse joked, making Sam and I laugh.
Jesse and I hop on our bikes while Sam hops on Jesse’s handlebars. We leave Malum Cotton’s without looking back. Yet that was when we really should have looked back. While we are almost to the corner of Pine View Street, we pass Travis Danforth on his bike. He gives all three of us a glare. Yet it isn’t threatening. We all know that he wouldn’t do anything without the help of David Link.
The only time he goes down Pine View Road is when he is with or is looking for David Link. I could have guessed that he was on the lookout for him.
The three of us stop on our bikes.
“Any of you fags seen David?” Travis grumbles under his breath.
“Probably making out with Malum Cotton,” Jesse jokes. “Whatta ‘bout you, Mikey? Have you seen him?”
For some reason I get a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach as I look at Travis Danforth. As I look at him glare at me, I try to figure it out. Yet I can’t.
“No,” I say simply, ruining Jesse’s little game. “I don’t know.”
Travis huffs as he makes his way up Pine View. Me, Jesse and Sam watch him make his way near Malum Cotton’s. His playing card that is hooked to his bike’s wheel makes a speedy motorcycle noise. We watch until the noise fades completely. This will be the last time either me, Jesse or Sam, and well, anyone, would see Travis Danforth alive.
Posted on Reddit by Ghostlypllz
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decomprosed · 8 years ago
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decided to join in on the @sixpenceee contest again this month with Startups Can Be Hell: http://sixpenceeestories.com/viewtopic.php?f=35&t=3255
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kim-isnt-seaweed · 5 years ago
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Itsssss October! Thus, time for a new ghost story from my family.
So, in Colombia we have this superstition about unmarked burials called Guacas. The stories go, that a spirit taking the shape of a little flame or like will guide you to the treasure (imagine the little flames in Brave.) Usually believed to be that spirits belongings when they were alive, but they only chose one person to take posession of it, as in even if many people can see it, only the "chosen" person can find it. The burials aren't exclusively native though, they can be anything, like one of my great-uncles found a burial full of old timey weapons and gun powder, he turned it in to the government.
My family love telling stories about guacas, they're like the first level ghost stories haha there are two I'm particularly fond of because they're funny.
1. My great-grandfather and his sons (grandmother's side) were in search of a guaca they had been seeing in the family's farm (farms in Colombia are usually deep in the mountains surrounded by nothing but forests) they followed it for miles up to this little clearing where it finally stood still. They were all excited, especially one of the uncles that had taken the lead, but as soon as he was about to start digging he noticed he was suddenly alone, looking back he saw that all the tools had been abandoned and he was left alone. That's when he noticed the tree he was standing under which was a yarumo, it's a native tree whose leaves turn white and local lore says that Witches are particularly fond of those trees, so the poor man bolted back to the farm just likes his brothers and father. This story is funny to me because they apparently had been following a witches guaca, and the fact that five grown men saw a tree and where like "nope" and ran away.
2. One time in another family farm, a coffee farm which is usually on top of hills covered in coffee plants, the family was all outside talking and enjoying the night (btw farms in Colombia are usually very dark) when the started seeing a light zigzagging towards them. Afraid it was some supernatural being, one of the men grabbed a shotgun and yelled: "in the name of the lord what do you want!" And the "light" called back "more aguardiente(Colombian sugarcane liquors)motherfuckers!" Turns out the apparition was just a drunk family member with their flashlight turned on.
Oh and most recently my mom and grandpa almost destroyed my parent's stairs because they swore there was a ghost and it had something hidden in the stairs because a lot of the activity concentrated there. They would hear footstep going up the stairs (i say up because the only way to get to the house is to go up a flight of stairs from the main door) then one time they heard someone go up the stairs meddle in the living room, and then sit on the sofa. They didn't find out what was inside because my dad didn't let them finish destroying the stairs, haha but in my mom's video you could see light orbs so that's cool hahaha
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tlbodine · 5 years ago
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