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by Carol Varsalona

As a child, I was squeamish about following my grandmother down to her cold cellar where she stored her jars of canned tomato sauce. For fun, I created a children's slide story from my experience. The link Is:
https://app.edu.buncee.com/creation/892a761e1d1c4278ac53b60b8d6cae99

The final poem is:

Fears are fearsome,
don't I know.
Childhood imagination
makes them so.

©Carol Varsalona, 2017

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Saturday Matinee: Vincent Price Double Feature

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Saturday Matinee: Vincent Price Double Feature

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A seat complains in creaks
as the person next to her shifts.
A beetle-cracking crunch
of something underfoot.
A discordant crescendo of violins
designed to stop the heart...
Yet all she hears is the blood pulsing
in her head in her hands in her lap.

© Diane Mayr

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Lone
headless
scarecrow sits
beside pumpkins,
waiting for children to creep up the stoop.
Whisper trick-or-treat. Watch its fingers twitch.
It looms once more.
Kids scatter.
Hearts pound.
Scram.

©2017 Kay Jernigan McGriff

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Don't go down there
way too dark
it's underneath the stairs
crooked fingers long to grab
children unaware

Grandma, listen carefully
do you hear Frankenstein?
I hear a noise.
I hear a scream.
No wait, it's only mine.

© 2017 Judith Valko

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I'm ten years old,

love the daily summer pleasures

on my grandparents’ farm -

reading from old Saturday Evening Posts

on the south porch swing on hot afternoons,

evening ride with Grandpa to bring in the cattle,

watching the sunset alongside their easy ambling,

dew-washed feet in the early morning garden,

choosing the noon dinner with Grandma,

long-sleeved shirt on for blackberry picking,

gathering eggs,

never!

I could not find the courage

to evade the pecks, to feel that warmth

Grandma told me was so dear.

Hens cackled when I entered their house,

flapped wings, feeling my fear.

They never allowed my invasion,

and I never invaded.

Linda Baie © All rights reserved

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The Ghost at Amy's House (based on a true story)

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The Ghost at Amy's House (based on a true story)

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There’s a ghost at my friend Amy’s house!

It just showed up this week.

Its chief delight is playing games

Of spooky hide-and-seek.

On Monday, it arrived with glee

And snatched poor Amy’s shoes.

We found them floating in the tub

Like sailboats on a cruise.

On Tuesday, it put Amy’s dolls

Beside the litter box;

Then Wednesday, stashed her favorite books

Beneath some dirty socks.

It took a rest on Thursday

And gobbled Amy’s cake.

(In hindsight, leaving sweets around

Was really a mistake.)

By Friday, Amy couldn’t stand

The hijinks anymore.

So, now we’re hiding patiently

Behind her bedroom door.

I think I hear some footsteps!

It’s coming! GHOST! Beware!

…but do all ghosts have freckles

And tie ribbons in their hair?

It seems that this ferocious ghost

Is neither ghoul nor beast—

Just a sister who’ll be grounded

Through all next week, at least.

~ Jesse Anna Bornemann

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– for Cindy, Thomas, Bonnie, and Albert

May 5, 1977
shortly before 9 o'clock this morning
Bonnie was always asking the time . . .
the bodies were found

4 children
apparently stabbed in their beds
"I have to get home."
sometimes difficult to deal with

38 years old—a ladies man
who wore hip clothes and tried to act young
"I can't be late."
different after his second wife left him

A member of Local 137
unable to find employment
"My father will be very angry."
then killed himself with a shotgun

An official said, "He was a friend of all of us.
We're shocked but we can't comment."

A found poem based on this New York Times article.
© 2017 Michelle Heidenrich Barnes. All rights reserved.

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The ancient
house loomed on the hill.
Iron fence,
closed shutters.
A wizened old lady hid
in the dark doorway

My friends and
I dared each other:

dash up and
ring the bell.
Would she cast a spell on us?
I never found out.

©jone rush macculloch, 2017

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Miss Brooks made me shake and shiver,

her eyes made me quake and quiver.

Old Gray don’t look at her,

you’ll loose your perfect purr–

Drat, his meow’s gone downriver!

Miss Brook’s lip raised in disgust,

in a minute she’ll surely bust–

But Mr. Brooks stepped in

causing her some chagrin,

She rallied, but retreats nonplussed.

Miss Brooks studies us everyday,

oh how I wish she’d move away.

She sits in her lawn chair,

without a thought or care–

P-please don’t stay and come my way!

© 2017 Michelle Kogan

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You lured me into the dark kitchen

at the back of the gym

with the promise of extra candy.

With perfect gymnast posture

I stood in the doorway

showing off the orange gauzy wings

my mother sewed on my black leotard

to complete my metamorphosis

into a butterfly for the team Halloween party.

Your compliment,

“You are as cute as a bug,” said in a heady voice,

made something deep inside me

shift.

I knew something about the situation

was wrong.

But I was 10.

And you were my coach.

© 2017 Bridget Magee. All rights reserved.

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photo credit: Free Image on Pixabay - 336496, Pixabay, 3 May 2014, pixabay.com

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On hard-packed, shaded, friendly road,

Our wheels were sure, we never slowed;

We moved in sync, with joy, we were a team.

We ventured farther down the lane,

Our goal a simple one to gain:

Avoiding chores at home was our sole scheme.

Our carefree ride was sweet but short

For soon our habitat would thwart;

Our joyful jaunt was changed when past the stream

Our wheels found dusty washboard track;

We thought that we might double back

As shade became a gloam; no sun did gleam.

The houses took a cheerless turn,

The lawns were junkyards. Faces stern

We pressed on, moxie pushed to the extreme.

With legs that shook and palms that sweat,

We made it past that unkempt threat.

Our confidence the sunlight did redeem.

Now languid, rolling past a field

Our haste forgotten, jitters yield

To summer's warmth and ease but then our dream

Becomes a nightmare as a shriek

Is heard and heard again; we freak;

Our wheels they skid and legs run out of steam.

But then we're supercharged with fright

For menace lurks just out of sight;

The farm with monstrous mischief-makers teem.

We peddle fast but tangle, THUD!

Our nerves are shot by curdled blood;

We race with dents and scrapes.  Relief supreme

When home is reached, our chores a sport

We relish as to Mom report,

Who laughs (she gloats?!): "'Twas just a peacock's scream!"

©2017 Rebekah Hoeft

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The big upstairs room

Alone

In the dark

Shadows cast

Along the wall

Black as coal

Darting

Menacing

Reaching

I hold my breath

Petrified

Karen Eastlund
October 2017

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soooooooooooo scary
cobwebby giant long-legged spidery wet newspaper smelly
moldy wood splintery
garden sickles rusty in the ceiling  dusty moldy oh so creepy
dingy dark dungeon
hidden under our front porch
is our wood cellar
please don't make me go in there
it’s oh sooooooooooo scary
smelly cold and dark

poem and art by
By Jessica Bigi

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Someone has to.

Someone has to go.

Someone has to go down

in the dark, musty basement.

Someone has to.

Someone has to tip toe

along the concrete floor.

Someone has to.

Someone has to listen

for the quiet, steady snores.

Someone has to.

Someone has to slip aside

the hulking creature’s

big behind.

Someone has to.

Someone has to sidle by

before the giant

roars awake

its eyes alight

with glaring flames.

Someone has to.

Someone has to run

for her life

and bring back

a roll of two-ply soft, white

toilet paper.

© 2017 Elizabeth Steinglass. All rights reserved.

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Rains pelt, winds whip, fears unfold,

turbulent thunder storms brewing,

looking for funnel clouds as the

sky turns a greenish grey.

An eerie quiet

descends.

Take
cover.

Kathleen Mazurowski

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“I forgot to bring up peas.

Cindy, go and get some, please.”

Out the back door, walking slow.

Down dark steps I had to go.

Basement’s first room somewhat light.

Second room begins the fright.

Deep in darkness, wave my arm.

Find the light’s string ‘fore there’s harm!

In the place of third room’s door-

blanket hangs down to the floor.

What’s behind it? Monsters? Beasts?

Will I be some creature’s feast?

Dare to shove aside and enter.

Big chest freezer front and center.

Lift and prop the heavy lid.

Dig through frozen stuff- (peas hid).

Finally found some- quick retreat.

Good thing I like peas to eat!

© 2017 Cindy Breedlove. All rights reserved.

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Garret frontier
moment of darkness
ghostly wonder
attic pioneer.

Captures my fear
summon the chutzpah
moving upstairs
attic pioneer.

What do I hear?
clamoring uproar
Maybe a monster?
attic pioneer.

No volunteer
rivers of shivers
scurry away
attic pioneer.

Robyn Campbell

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At the bottom of the stair
in his secret coal chute lair
lives a black and hungry bear.

Fetching eggs or frozen pie
on an errand, do or die
up steep wooden steps I fly.

Feel bear’s breath hot on my back
any moment he’ll attack
when he does, I’ll turn and whack!

At the top the knob I wham
open door and close it. SLAM.
Once again escape bear jam!

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All Rights Reserved)

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(click on image to enlarge)

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Burrow under blankets.

Block out light.

Curl to make me little.

Squeeze eyes tight.

Shush my booming heartbeat.

Breath comes hard.

Listen to the darkness.

Stay. On. Guard.

THUMP   Was that a footstep?

GROAN   Too. Near.

CLINK     He’s getting closer.

CLUNK   He’s here!

MOM!  A MONSTER!  SAVE ME!

Quick, she flicks on light.

Whew! The monster’s gone.

Guess I gave him a fright.

©2017 by Sydney O’Neill

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distance is farther

in the dark.

mom and dad

downstairs

watching tv in a

lit room

are a light year away

from awake me

upstairs in bed in a

dark room.

if someone or something

that doesn't fear

the dark is up here

with me,

the quickest way

to close this giant

ghostly gap might be a

scream.

by Tabatha Yeatts

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There is a darkness lurking near
This darkness fills my heart with dread
I'm not alone - I think - I fear
A  darkness hides beneath my bed

As dark as pitch - with eyes that leer
And teeth that rip and pull and shred
Is that a hiss and growl I hear?
I hate this ghastly monster bed!

I feel my eyes begin to tear
The monster might bite through my bed!
Can't cry! I'm turning 12 this year
And monsters don't exist- mom said.

But just in case I block my ears
I take off running - out I fled
I made it safe - I jump - I cheer
No way I'm sleeping in that bed!

Janie Lazo 2017

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You thought I was asleep
But I peeked from beneath the sheets
And saw you move

© 2017 Rebecca Herzog

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cousins

late night pizza and sweet tea

ghost stories under sheets

delicious chills

until we had to pee

tiptoe down the dark hall

close the bathroom door

don’t turn on the light

silent fright turns to white terror

a monster appears

giant, Grendle-like

standing in the door

we scream

bang, stumble

escape to Mama’s arms

Daddy goes to see

in the light

the monster’s head—

a wash rag on a hook

the monster’s broad white chest—

the top of the door

the monster’s huge legs—

two towels draped from a bar

beneath the sheets

it's hard to sleep

©2017  Doraine Bennett

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Run down the passage as fast as you can,
Look neither left nor right.
The goblins and monsters will get you again,
They'll give you a terrible fright.

They lie in the darkness outside,
Peering through the window.
They move about side by side,
They scrape and rattle and OH!

It's the trees I now see,
They had a game plan.
They've tried to trick me,
So run down the passage as fast as you can.

Just in case!

By Angelique Pacheco

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Wide awake, frightened

Gold diaphanous curtains

Spooky charcoal shapes

Outside my window

Imaginary monsters

Coming to get me

© 2017 Mindy Gars Dolandis

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beneath evening skies
a million glowing eyes
blink from midnight's branches
screeches of owls
phantom wings take flight
into deep dark woods
a coyote's lonely yelp
the wind's invisible footprints
walking through the forest at night
as leaves play
tambourines
a million glowing eyes
blink from midnight's branches

poem By Jessica Bigi

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Background image: "Untitled" by Frida