boo

The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.

The Devil’s Abode was special cemetery where only those who were particularly nasty while living could be buried.

I know what you are thinking. It isn’t just criminals that inhabit this hallowed ground.

Some criminals can be down right pleasant in comparison to these monsters.

This Cemetery is for the worst offenders of societal order.

The woman who insists on paying with a written check for a pack of gum, does nothing but infuriate the self righteous road rage maniac next to her plot.

Astral channels buzz to life at night with long debates, between organic anti-vaxxers and a pack of old ‘Right Wingers,’ who have so much passion for their political opinion, they would die twice just to see those hippies wiped from the planet.

I sit here watching it all, leaving notes on the front of their caskets.

No one knows who the passive aggressive one is here, but they ALL hate their dead guts.

Mondays Finish the Story – August 31st, 2015

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© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

September 4th, 2015

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dwwolves

“Where did they go?”

“I’m not sure Sheriff,” Al said looking at the bowed head of his wife Lenora.

The three of them stood outside some old crumbling ruins in the red rock high desert. This was a popular destination for people staying at their bed and breakfast. Lenora warned against sending their guests up here but Al wasn’t having it.

Lenora heard tales from one of their more ‘eccentric’ guests. An old woman with hand made everything, down to her wicker woven sandals, told her of people going missing up here.

She claimed this was an old military outpost built during the great expansion West. One night some local natives tried to raid the camp but they were severely outmatched. The soldiers left none alive and buried the bodies under the settlement. They swore there never was any raid and so the tale of the vanishing braves was born.

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Mondays Finish the Story – August 10th, 2015

Ruins – © 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Ruins – © 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

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August 12th, 2015

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chains

“The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.”

“Wow. Old school -all natural,” Tanya jerked at the heavy chains threaded through cemented u-bolts in the floor.

The voice spoke again, “Going somewhere?”

She didn’t respond letting her arms settle at her sides. There was no need to use up all the strength now. She could break the small glass vile under her skin at any time and become a monster, easily escaping, but there was more information to be gathered.

“The Syndicate believes in using only the methods passed down from the Masters. They can be quite effective, sometimes even better than your modern toys,” he chuckled.

The chains suddenly went taut pulling her wrists toward the floor and rolling her body to the side. She felt the small glass rod break, ‘too soon,’ she thought.

Her vision went red as men started to spill into the room with guns. She could feel their heat and smell their blood. The hunger has her now. It will have them too.


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story – August 3rd, 2015

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August 5th, 2015

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enjoythegoathead

The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.

Troy looked up from his phone, “What is it?”

This was George’s chance to finally connect with his tween Grandson. He wasn’t enjoying this outing to the Natural History Museum as much as he hoped.

Troy looked backed down to Facebook.

George began, “Long ago, ancient coming of age boys would run naked through the forest with soda cans tied around their waist.”

Still looking down -flicking that thumb.

He continued, “Goats have a natural affinity for eating aluminum so they would release hundreds of them to give chase to the boys.”

Nothing. Flick, flick.

“The first one to get a chunk bitten out of his ass became the Tribal Elder.”

“See?”

With that Troy looked up to see his Grandpa’s weathered butt cheek. A piece was missing that had been used as a skin graft from an accident in his twenties.

“Ah! Grandpa that is so gross,” but he couldn’t contain his laughter. He quickly slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Connected at last.

2015-07-20-bw-beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

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Mondays Finish the Story – July 20th, 2015

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July 24th, 2015

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derpgoat

The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.

Mr Almonde Pasteva was a researcher who knew how to read petroglyphs and was very famous.

One day he saw a petroglyph with a very old and unusual story.

There was once a family called the Oogaboogens and they lived on a goat farm.

The family consisted of two kids, one girl named Oogmi, her twin brother named Oogum and two parents. The mom Ushulake and the dad Upilllokekuse and this family inspired a lot of items we use today.

Oogmi inspired origami, Oogum inspired gum, Ushulake inspired shoelaces, and Upilllokekuse inspired pillowcases. And one more member was their pet goat who didn’t have a name and every day Upilllokekuse would hit him with a branch. One day they saw a portal, which a weird house car made, so they jumped in and are now a normal family.

“Sarah (10 years old) made some great names in this one. If you could only hear her say them (Oog-me, Oo-gum, Oosh-lake-ee and the last one I can’t even attempt to get out phonetically). She surprised me with this one. I’m proud. That’ll do pig. That’ll do.” – Danny (read other stories by Sarah)

2015-07-20-bw-beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

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Mondays Finish the Story – July 20th, 2015

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July 22nd, 2015

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