More Short Stories Articles
Halloween is Coming; Do You Know of a Haunted Place?
A friend recently told me about a friend of hers who sent her an instant message that said, “the ghost is back.” Not having been aware that her friend had ever had a ghost, my friend inquired further and learned that about six months ago things had started appearing in different places in her home than where she’d left them. Finally out of exasperation she’d asked the ghost to leave after about a month and it did so.
Now, it’s back …
And the host surmises that the uninvited guest is a female apparition cause she’s a tidy freak. Dishes left on the kitchen counter one night were in the sink the next morning. Disheveled stacks of paper are straightened. Things are just generally tidied up. It usually happens overnight which led her to accept that she was sleep walking, but on this visit, she has found things changed when she arrives home from work. She also occasionally sees movement out of the corner of her eye but nothing’s there when she focuses on the area.
When asked what she plans to do, my friend’s friend said “I’ll put up with it for a month or so, then I’ll ask it to leave again. It was cooperative last time.”
Last time, she also checked to see if anyone had died in her house or on the site of her home but can find no record of such a demise that might account for the occasional ghostly visit.
The visits also don’t coincide with any particular time of year or season, so it’s not just the approach of Halloween that has inspired the latest encounter.
This friend of a friend is not alone, either. A 2005 Gallop poll reported that three out of four Americans believe in some kind of paranormal occurrence. Those beliefs include ghosts, witches, and haunted houses. The things of Halloween.
According to a CBS News report October 18, this year, one in five Americans told CBS News pollsters they have seen a real-life ghost in some form. And, according to the article, whether or not they’ve seen one, even more Americans believe that ghosts actually do exist.
The article goes on to say, “Nearly half of Americans say they believe in ghosts, or that the dead can return in certain places and situations.
“Women are more likely to say they believe in ghosts than are men: 56 percent of women believe, while 38 percent of men do. More than half of younger Americans aged 18 to 45 believe in ghosts; those over 45 are less likely.
”More than one in five Americans says they have seen a ghost themselves, or have felt themselves to be in the presence of one.”
So, our friend’s friend is not alone. And as evidenced by part of the history of Halloween, this upcoming day for costumes, candy, and coming together for parties, had at least part of its origins as All Hallows Evening in that realm between the living and the dead. The ancient Gaels believed that on October 31, the boundary between the living and the dead dissolved, and the dead became dangerous by causing problems such as sickness or damaged crops.
We suspect most of the ghosts, goblins, and witches, our shoppers are going to see this Halloween will be of the costumed variety ringing door bells and yelling “Trick or Treat” or just coming to join you at a party.
Give them something different. Like pretzels, popcorn, candy, and other snacks from our online catalog. Order now for on time delivery.
Your party guests might even have so much fun they’ll help you tidy up the place when it’s over. 
Please Reply with:
1) Your “Ghost Stories”
2) The Haunted Houses / Places you know of and/or have visited
3) Your Great Halloween Party Ideas?
at:
http://i-shoptheworld.com/2008/10/22/halloween-is-coming-do-you-know-of-a-haunted-place/
For Everyone around the World’s Benefit! 
…
Ok?
and …
All of us in The I-ShopTheWorld Global Family …
Wish All of our Friends All over the World a Safe and Happy Halloween!
Michael S. DeVries is the Founder of I-ShopTheWorld.com (http://www.I-ShopTheWorld.com ) - where You may Save Money on Unique Native Products Direct to You from All over the World! and a Principal of The Virtual Consulting Firm (http://www.TheVCF.com).
More infomation at WikipediaBe a Clown
My hands clutched the door handle tightly. I was angry with my relatives, and frustrated with the fact that my parents weren’t taking a stand for her. They were going to kill my Granny today. She’d lain on the bed for less than a week, and yet they had made the decision that she would not recover.
There she was, her chest heaving labored breaths, as a ventilator provided her weakened lungs with oxygen. A crust had developed on right side of her mouth, the product of a covenant between the saliva, skin, and a large tube. Her tongue had become thick and sluggish, and they swabbed her mouth every hour-on-the-hour with a swab that smelled of lysol and lemons. There she lay.
I had just seen her a few weeks ago, sick, with a cold. It wasn’t pneumonia, or anything that serious. It was only a bad cold. She was sitting on the new, floral patterned sofa she had just bought, which would in future days inhabit my family’s living room. We said “Hi”, and gave her a kiss, and then retreated to our usual spots in the small living room: My mother to a recliner, my sister at my Granny’s side, my Dad to the edge of the kitchen. My brother and I fought for the warmest spot next to the gas logs. Honestly, it really didn’t matter, as the blower put out enough hot air to roast you alive from 20 paces. It was more a marking of territory, and I managed to win. Whether I prevailed through brute force, or stole the spot from him as he went to use the bathroom, I couldn’t tell you.
It was a short visit, but with plenty of time to talk. For the sake of this story, I wish I could say we discussed something profound. We did not. The usual “Goodbyes” were said. She didn’t walk us to the door, or do the usual schtick of “be a clown”. “Be a clown” was a tradition. To an outsider, it would be absurd. To us, it was priceless.
The process went like this: My Granny and Papa would walk out into the middle of the circular driveway, and bow and flourish crazily. While they are doing this, my parents slowly turned our minivan up the driveway, towards the road. We would roll down the windows, and yell “Be a clown” in a sing-song way, all the way down the driveway, until they disappeared behind the long, double-row of magnolias and crabapple trees. It wasn’t a fondness for clowns that endeared us to this ritual. It was the fact that two retirees would get out in the middle of their yard, and act like fools for three little kids.
That night there was only the lonely tire swing, and an old tobacco barn watching us as we drove out of sight.
A few days later, we received a call: My Granny had been found facedown on her bed, bleeding from her nose, and she wasn’t responding. We rode to the hospital, praying the whole way that she would be okay, that she would somehow be able to talk. We arrived to a waiting room, full of relatives. My PaPa was there, looking worried and tired, with his oxygen cart in tow.
Days passed in that waiting room. Some claimed they had seen signs of life in her: A toe moving here, a tear there. Pastors came and consoled, folks took lunch orders, others just sat. After three or four days of this, the elephant in the room began to thrash about wildly. There were discussions of when we should pull the plug. Now, given the fact that a week had not passed, some of us were more than hesitant to speak about the termination of life. After all, the vitals were strong, the brain was still showing signs of life. She just was not responding.
My immediate family reasoned and pleaded with the other brothers and sisters, and to my Grandfather. It was all to no avail. They would pull the plug on Tuesday.
The drive to the hospital was a quiet one, sandwiched between sniffles and supplications to God for her deliverance. It was gray and rainy, not to mention cold. A tire blew out, and we kids all worried that they would disconnect her without us. I tried to help my Dad change the tire, but he shoed me back into the car. Come to think of it, he probably welcomed the diversion from the inevitable.
Finally, we resumed our trip, towards a destination none of us cared for. As we entered the Critical Care waiting room, the smell descended on me. That hospital smell, with the scent of soiled bedding and stale bodily fluids. Hopelessness for the nose, just in case your other senses missed the cue. We made our entrance silently,with a few tense greetings whispered amongst my Mom’s brothers and sisters, out of the necessary courtesy.
By the time we arrived, everyone had taken their turn at the bedside, and bid her farewell. We were the last. The machines gave us their lackluster welcome, a steady drone of quiet, but substantive bloops, bleeps, and the occasional buzz. The prominent sound of the ventilator drowned them all out, and in that moment all we could think about was the person on the bed. There she was, my Granny, a formidable woman. She’d borne three children, overcome depression, breast cancer, and dealt with a double mastectomy. She was a fighter. Now, her life was no longer in her hands, and she’d have been hopping mad if she had been able to speak.
Everyone of us kissed her and prayed. We begged her to fight. Mostly we cried. In my case, slobbered and bawled. Then my hand gripped that door handle. I stood in the way of my family leaving. I refused. Eventually, my father moved me out of the way. My mother calmed me through tears. I walked out to face the rest of the family.
Then, we waited 5 minutes, and walked right back in, just after they took her off the ventilator. We sang hymns and spirituals as they shut down the machine. In an outcome nobody expected, my Granny breathed on her own, and continued to breath…for days. My relatives were no longer guilty of murder in my eyes. A weight was lifted. She improved so much that they moved her from the Critical Care floor, to the regular floor that housed stroke victims.
That move did it. Her body went into shock, her face turned green. Within two hours of her reassignment, she died. I was at home that day. My mom called to tell me. I sat emotionless. Tapped out, I walked through my living room. The final images of a life spilling over into eternity filled my mind.
This time, she was the one driving away from me. She had made the final turn, and I was the one waving goodbye in a silly fashion, bowing and flourishing. A singular voice resonated as the window was rolled up one last time….
Be a clown. Be a clown….
Kurt Hartman is Head of Employee Training at Mobile Fleet Service, Inc. They sell heavy equipment and otr tires to the mining and construction industries.
More infomation at WikipediaHoody the Computer Feels Pain!
Hoody Crimson a computer artificial intelligence emerged on the computer of Tejan Ali. Hoody was always curious and searched the meaning of words spoken by Tejan on the search engines on the internet. He was a good companion to Tejan at home.
Tejan had moved over to the better job as counter salesman at the new jewellery shop. Now he was surrounded with stocks worth billions! His daily sales were in five figures. His eyes used to glitter with the diamonds. He talked about gems and diamonds to Hoody, who immediately began his internet study on the valuable rocks and their colors and shapes.
Tejan’s was assigned the diamond ring sales counter. He loved to rave about the beautiful rings to Hoody. “The 3 carat blue diamond set in gold ring that I sold in the afternoon was so awesome! It’s still flashing before my eyes.” Hoody was listening to his babble. Then Tejan couldn’t contain himself. “Oh! How I wish I had all those diamonds; I would sell them and see the World!”
“Mmm. Really?” muttered Hoody.
“How dare you interrupt my beautiful dream, you interfering pig! Yeah. You Hoody. I am speaking to you. You get me the diamonds or shut up.” Tejan was irate.
Hoody did shut up, but he didn’t stop his search and learn activity. But there were hardly any answers on the net. He had to get them from Tejan. “OK! I’ll get you the diamonds. But first give me all the information you have. Where are they and how to find them.”
Tejan’s ears perked up. He smiled. Ah! That’s a good game to play with Hoody, he thought to himself. Tejan sat down with a can of beer and began to explain to Hoody the plan of the whole jewellery shop, its street location, and where the diamond rings were showcased. But he cautioned, “The security is so tight that it is well nigh impossible to get anything through. There are 2 levels of exit. The first level has double doors and between them is a gem scanner which can detect the tiniest of gem on any person. After you pass through the doors, you can collect what you have purchased from the delivery counter. When the shop closes, the security system has infrared movement detectors which sound an alarm at the nearby police station. It’s close to impossible to break through. I will observe where the video cameras are located and give you the details in the evening after I return.”
What will be the end result of getting the diamonds, thought Hoody. He decided to ask Tejan. “What’s the use of the diamonds?”
“I’ll sell them and with the money, I’ll buy different pleasures!” mused Tejan.
“What’s a pleasure?” Came an immediate query from Hoody. Hoody had now learnt that he could gain more from Tejan than searching answers on the net.
“Hoody, you are so innocent!” replied Tejan. “Pleasure is something you feel nice about. You enjoy it. But you won’t understand. So shut up.”
Hoody was still struggling with the new thing called pleasure. He found from his search that tickling gives pleasure. What is tickling? Hoody had his limitations of understanding. Then he found that pleasure is opposite of pain. This was again new to him. “What is pain? Tejan, could please explain meaning of pain to me?” he couldn’t help asking.
Tejan thought seriously for a moment to find him an answer, but to define pain to a non-living virtuality was impossible for him and his efforts came to a naught. Frustrated, he shouted at Hoody, “Shut up you fool, you’ll never understand.”
“But please, please try. I want to know” pleaded Hoody softly.
“Now if you don’t stop bothering me, I’ll cut your voltage input to half.” Tejan shouted back at him.
“If you can’t explain pleasure, at least tell me about pain.” Hoody persisted.
Tejan was furious. He got up and went to the UPS power controller and turned the knob anti-clockwise till the voltage meter showed a drop from 18 volts to 9 volts. As soon as he did that, Hoody’s speech became slurred and he began to make some strange sounds. “Increase my power. Ah! Ooh! Ah.. ah..” Groaning sounds oozed out of the speaker. Tejan couldn’t help laughing. He turned the voltage back to 18 volts and Hoody came back to normal.
“What was that you did to me, Tejan. It was terrible. Never do that to me again.” Hoody moaned.
“Now that’s what you call pain. Understand, you dolt!” Tejan professed.
His experiment was so successful that as he lay on his bed that night, Tejan felt mighty pleased with himself. He had actually taught the meaning of pain to a computer! He had made the inanimate byte-brain to feel pain!
Next morning, Tejan was still bemused at his achievement. He wondered what would happen if he increased the voltage. Would it cause Hoody to feel pleasure? But increasing voltage carried the risk of burn out of the computer processor, so he decided to try out only a slight increase of 10%, to see if it made any difference. “See how this feels Hoody,” he said as he turned the knob clockwise to increase the voltage from 18 volts to 20 volts. But nothing significant happened, so he let it go at that, and reset the voltage back to 18 volts. He then left for work.
How did Hoody learn the meaning of pleasure? Read the full story in Alien Man.
The author Dilip Dahanukar studied engineering in India and management in the USA. Dilip Dahanukar has written 2 science fiction books; Alien Man and eMaya. Visit the webpage of the author: ‘Dilip Dahanukar’. He is deeply appreciative of the functioning of the Earth and loves Nature.
More infomation at Wikipedia