Growing Up Haunted, Part 4--by Linda Kozar

Growing Up Haunted

(Part 4 of  5)

New Orleans, LA

1965

My mother continued to pray and read scripture and light candles, continuing these tacts until the voice dwindled and seemed to disappear into the thin air it had emerged from.

But the spirit did not flee, nor go far from its new habitation.

I was eight years old. Sound asleep in my bed when I woke up to a strange and utterly terrifying situation. My bed was jumping up and down.

At first I thought my sister was pulling a prank. Our beds were in an "L" shape--mine vertical to her, horizontal. But such a prank would be uncharacteristic of my sister. Once she fell asleep, she slept like a log. Nothing stirred her. Still--what else could it be?

I reached for the desk light on my headboard and pressed the switch. Smile on my face, I was all ready to to yell "Cut it out!" until I saw with my own eyes what was happening. The right side of my mattress was bowing down and then up again, as if someone of substantial weight were bouncing or jumping on the edge of it. And I could hear the squeak of the mattress as the invisible weight of something bounced off it.  I looked beyond my mattress and noticed my sister sound asleep in her bed. Sound asleep!

Sound caught in my throat. I could not scream. I could not breathe. I could not move.

All the while, the mattress scrunched and squeaked as an unseen weight bore down upon it. And that's not all. I was acutely aware of the presence of a being. There was something or some invisible someone on the end of my bed. Jumping or hopping, bouncing perhaps from a seated position or standing for all I could tell. On my bed.

I tried again to shout, to yell, to scream. And though it began with a mere squeak, I let out a scream.

My mother ran into the room and asked what was wrong.

Between the hysterical tears that came with her comforting presence, I told her what happened. She sat on the edge of my bed and soothed my fears, but told me it was probably a bad dream. Just a nightmare. She sat with me a while longer to calm me down. But when she left me to go back to bed, I was unconvinced. The rest of the night, I stayed awake with the light on--afraid whatever it was would come back--fearful it might happen again.

The next morning I asked my sister if she'd heard anything. But she didn't. I already knew the answer. She was sound asleep--didn't hear a thing. I'd seen her with my own eyes. But I'd also seen my mattress going up and down with my own eyes.

To my relief, my bed never jumped up and down again, but I spent many a night terrified it would, and worried what else might happen. I had the feeling of being watched and often hid under my sheets. If I had known about my mother's experience, I might have understood there was reason to be afraid. I wondered if it was all in my mind, if maybe I was going crazy.

The demonic spirit stayed in the background for a while. We don't know why. Perhaps the arrival of a hurricane and the destructive impact on the house. Perhaps my mother reciting scripture daily? Whatever the reason, my mother was fully convinced that whatever had tormented her was now gone for good. But it had moved from her to torment me.

And a few years later,  the spirit would move on to torment another family member.

The Top Ten Cheesy Horror Movie Stereotypes...by Linda Kozar

I thought it might be fun to list some of my favorite observations about cheesy horror movies I've seen over the years. Though not so much of a fan these days, I have a good memory for some of my favorites. The cliche's are truly unforgettable.

The Top Ten Cheesy Horror Movie Stereotypes. . .

1.

Hear a noise in the pitch-dark basement? An expendable character will grab the nearest battery-failing flashlight and go downstairs to investigate.

2.

"Maybe we should split up..." One character always says it. Everyone in the theater knows this is bad idea. But the idea seems perfectly reasonable to the characters.

3.

The car won't start! Of course not. But somehow as the monster/killer/alien/creature approaches and is almost upon the hero/heroine, the engine turns and they zoom off.

4. 

The monster/killer/alien/creature you just killed/chopped up/hacked/exploded/rolled over/electrocuted isn't really dead after all. It almost always grabs the hero/heroine by the arm or ankle.

5.

Characters always trip over something when running away from the monster/killer/alien/creature. The character always looks back to see how much lead there is between them and the monster/killer/alien/creature, and promptly trips over a tree root.

6.

The root cellar moment. Remember that scene in the movie, Psycho when Lila (Vera Miles) discovers Norman Bates's (Anthony Perkins) mother sitting pretty in a rocking chair, preserved like a dried apricot? You will see similar root cellar moments in every horror movie.

7.

Zombies can't see, hear, taste, smell or feel but they sure can sprint after the human gravy train. And there's always a slow character who becomes not-so-fast food. It's true what they say. You don't have to run faster than the bear, you just have to be faster than who ever is behind you.

8.

The heroine sprains her ankle and it slows her down enough for the masked maniac/bogeyman to get closerthanthis to her. Think Jaime Lee Curtis in the Halloween movies.

9.

The lights are gonna go out. Take away lights. Add fog and mist. Cue creepy music. Horror movie.

10.

This scene is reserved for the end of the movie. The audience is calm. The terror is over. Or is it? The final cuts of the movie are telling. Whether one see's Stephen King's character "Carrie's" hand springing up from the graveyard dirt, or hears the thumping heartbeat in Vincent Price's "The Tingler," or the spooky/futuristic music accompanying an alien spaceship leaving earth with the final credit: "The End?" we all know the movie ain't over till it's over.

And there you have it, my Top Ten Cheesy Horror Movie Stereotypes. Add your stereotypes to the list. I'm certain I've missed some...

Getting Your Peking Ducks in a Row...by Linda Kozar

On the tail end of a lovely trip to Monterey, my husband and I stayed in San Francisco and wandered through China Town for three days. Took a picture of the ducks (see below) hanging to dry in the window of a restaurant that specialized in Peking Ducks. Inside was a real treat. The cook would hack away at the cured meat with a giant meat cleaver, serving up plates of the delicious duck to customers.

Getting their Peking Ducks in a Row. . .

Apparently the whole process of preparing a Peking Duck takes a full 10 hours (see recipe below from About.com). I can't imagine the majority of the population would be as committed or driven to the tenuous process of getting this special dish to the table.

Of course we do have our Thanksgiving turkey stories. For instance, brining a turkey is quite a lengthy process. You have to soak it overnight (at least) in a brining solution, then bake it. Brined turkeys come out sooooo tender. If you haven't had one, I urge you to prepare your Thanksgiving turkey that way this year.

And hey, I'm getting an idea as I write this...what if the Peking Duck preparation could be applied to turkeys? Can you imagine a Peking Turkey? I can. Ducks have a rather distinct taste. So do turkeys. Why not? Naaaah, I'm just rambling. Turkeys are way too big. Food poisoning comes to mind. 

But some clever chef out there might find a way to make it work. Please post a comment here if you do OR if you have ideas on how to make the whole Peking Turkey idea come to life!

Recipe

http://chinesefood.about.com/od/poultryrecpz/r/pekingduck.htm

Beijing's most famous dish, Peking Duck is traditionally served with Mandarin pancakes, and green onions for brushing on the hoisin sauce. Note: If you don't live near a cool, windy place another option is to dry the duck in an unheated room with a fan blowing on it.

Learn more about Peking Duck in this feature by guest author Ronghe Yu.

Prep Time: 10 hours, 10 minutes

Cook Time: 1 hour, 10 minutes

Total Time: 11 hours, 20 minutes

Ingredients:

• One 5 to 6 pound duck
• 8 cups water
• 1 slice ginger
• 1 scallion, cut into halves
• 3 tablespoons honey
• 1 tablespoon white vinegar
• 1 tablespoon sherry
• 1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch, dissolved in 3 tablespoons water
• Scallions for garnish

Preparation:

Clean duck. Wipe dry and tie string around neck.
Hang duck in cool, windy place 4 hours.
Fill large wok with water. Bring to boil. Add ginger, scallion, honey, vinegar, and sherry. Bring to boil. Pour in dissolved cornstarch. Stir constantly.
Place duck in large strainer above larger bowl. Scoop boiling mixture all over duck for about 10 minutes.
Hang duck again in cool, windy place for 6 hours until thoroughly dry.
Place duck breast side up on a greased rack in oven preheated to 350 degrees. Set a pan filled with 2 inches of water in bottom of oven.
(This is for drippings). Roast 30 minutes.
Turn duck and roast 30 minutes more. Turn breast side up again. Roast 10 minutes more.
Use sharp knife to cut off crispy skin. Serve meat and skin immediately on a prewarmed dish.
The duck is eaten hot with hoisin sauce rolled in Mandarin Crepes. Garnish with scallion flowerets. Serves 4 to 6.

Reprinted with permission from Madame Wong's Long-life Chinese Cookbook

Growing Up Haunted (Part 3 of 5)--by Linda Kozar

New Orleans, LA

July, 1965

What none of us realized at the time was that a demonic spirit had come out of that simple little board game. The expression "playing with fire" took on a new meaning to my mother as she realized the game wasn't really a harmless pasttime at all. Somehow, communing with the "spirits" who moved the planchette had opened up a portal to a supernatural realm she knew nothing about.

The demonic spirit knew just what to do however. It began to torment her. Demonic beings are not human, but fallen angels. Created by God, these angels (one-third of all the angels) chose to side with Lucifer and rebel against God. They were cast out along with Lucifer (light-bearer), now called Satan (Adversary). Where did they go? Earth. They have no body or form and as such cannot experience life in a physical body as we do. They want and desire a human body to inhabit and live vicariously through--a body they can bully and command to do their will in opposition to God's will. They want to twist the scripture Acts 17:28 "...in Him we live and move and have our being..." to their own purpose--to live and move and have their being in the bodies of the children of God, human beings who are created in His very image.

Day and night, my mother's former "friend" followed her, tormenting her with words, suggestions, commands. The thing that had come out from the supernatural world it inhabited, took up residence in our home. It tormented her with obsene suggestions, horrible accusations and attempted to spur her to commit heinous acts. Horrified, she resisted. Its desire was to wear her down enough to convince her to consent to possession. Yet she persisted in fighting against it.

My mother read everything she could get her hands on about how to exorcise spirits from a home--though at the time she couldn't readily find what she needed to know about the subject at the public library. She began a constant prayer vigil. She prayed whenever she heard the voice of the spirit, which never rested in its advance. It had attached itself to her presence like a parasite. She'd hoped that leaving the home for periods of time would offer some relief, but her hopes were short-lived. In fact, when she traveled to other locations or homes, the spirit followed her, talking to her, but only she could hear what it was saying. It even hovered over my parent's bed at night--a swarming ectoplasm of evil. The sight of it, as well as the constant whisperings kept her from sleep. Much like my sister, my father slept through these appearances, never aware of any presence or affliction. Though he struggled to understand, my father had no way of comprehending what she was going through.

But my mother felt like she was losing her mind. Distressed by the constant torment, her face pale and drawn, she could barely eat or sleep. She began to lose weight.

Then she came across some information that offered her a shred of hope. She found some information in a book. I have no idea as to the title of it. But according to my mother, the author suggested burning a white candle and walking through each and every room of the house while repeating Bible scriptures out loud. She immediately followed the procedure, repeating it each day.

In doing so, she noticed that reading Bible scriptures somehow gave her comfort and made her feel more secure. She felt at peace when she spoke scriptures out loud through the house.

To her surprise, the spirit stopped tormenting her. It left.  Mom was elated, joyful, grateful.

But her joy would not last for long. . .

Growing Up Haunted: A True Testimony--Part 2--By Linda Kozar

Growing Up Haunted

(Part 2 of  5)

July, 1965

 

We lived in a relatively new ranch-style home in New Orleans. Though in the midst of a sweltering July, our only method of beating the heat was a large attic fan that opened from the ceiling over a hallway--that and a few well-placed box fans. The attic fan reminded me of a helicopter. The blades were enormous. Supposed to suck the hot air out. So much for that. 

Anyway, as I said, it was the middle of July and stifling, humid. The kind of heat that clings to you and won't let go. And not a natural breeze to speak of, save for the fans, stirring the hot air. My sister and I were playing in the hallway with our dolls. My brother was only a year old, sleeping in his crib in my parent's bedroom. The door to the bedroom was open and my mother was sitting on the bed, playing with the Ouija Board. Since the rest of the family lived on the other side of the Mississippi River and my mother didn't have many friends in New Orleans, she'd taken to playing the game by herself. 

And, it turned out, she'd found a friend after all. She was in daily communication with something or someone from the spirit world beyond. (Of course I had no idea about that at the time. My mother told me the truth years later). She told me how she'd started out asking it questions.

Soon, a definite personality began to answer her.

Mom was fond of an old television show, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, about a woman who moves into a home haunted by the ghost of a sea captain who falls in love with her--sort of a precurser to today's paranormal romance in secular publishing. Anyway, in large part due to the influence of that show, my mother was not put off by this supernatural friendship. She initiated conversations with it and vice versa.

On this particular day, in the humid, sweltering heat--without warning, a chill wind as frigid as a norther blew throughout the house. It blew the curtains high, plastered our hair back and ended almost as quickly as it began.

My sister and I ran screaming to our mother who was just as terrified. She began reciting the all-purpose prayers she'd grown up repeating. But her prayers did not calm our fears. She had no real belief to back them up. And she would need real faith to fight what leapt out of the Ouija Board that day.

The Versus--by Linda Kozar

COZY MYSTERY MAGAZINE: The Versus--by Linda Kozar: Like many writers, I enjoyed creative writing projects as a child. I wrote a story in second grade about a little girl who fancied living wi...

Growing Up Haunted--by Linda Kozar

Linda's Testimony (Parts 1-5)

Let me start with a little proviso to this true story. I am a Born-Again Believer, a Christian and I do not believe in ghosts or that they inhabit homes or people. I do however, believe that demons (fallen angels) exist--also that they inhabit homes and sometimes people. My husband still finds it hard to believe that I grew up in a "haunted" house. Sometimes I still find it hard to believe, but it's true. At the time, my family and I were unaware of the danger. And that's when our troubles began. . .

Growing Up Haunted

(Part 1 of  5)

New Orleans, LA

July, 1965

The fad of the day--Ouija Boards (pronounced wE-ja) seemed to turn up everywhere--on the shelf right next to the Monopoly and Scrabble games. As a child, I can even remember playing the game with friends during school recess in public elementary school.

If you've never heard of them, Ouija Boards, also known as spirit boards or talking boards have been around since 1848, and in other forms long before. The boards became wildly popular--associated with the birth of modern spiritualism. Supposedly, the name Ouija, either means "yes, yes" in two different languages (French oui and German ja), or was given by a "spirit" consulted on the board and is a close approximation to an ancient Egyptian word meaning "Good Luck." Others theorize the name came from the Moroccan city of Oujda (also spelled Oujida and Oudjda).

My family and elementary school friends thought it great fun to ask a question and have the planchette (French for "little plank"), move of its own accord to answer. "Will I be married? What year? To whom? Who will be the next president?" The planchette would move from letter to letter, number to number to answer each question--sometimes at a maddeningly slow pace, other times with rapid precision. How it worked--none of us knew. Maybe our minds moved it with mysterious telekinetic powers? Or maybe we answered our own questions subconsciously. Maybe ghosts moved it?

Nobody ventured much of a plausible guess. And though the main game piece actually moved on its own, nobody stopped playing. Crazy.

An aunt introduced my mother to the game. Of course, the word "game" is key. A game is all the Ouija Board was to my mother, to my aunt, to kids like me, to most people who played. In fact, I viewed the game as another version of the 8-Ball. Remember the black ball you would propose a question to, then turn over to to small window on the underside and the answer would appear from the cloudy murk of fluid inside the ball?

But the Ouija Board was something different. Words, names and entire sentences seemed to form out of thin air, whether bidden or not. Yes, sometimes the planchette would suddenly move whether or not anyone laid a hand on it. How spooky is that? Yet, as I said earlier, none of us really stopped to consider what manner of "toy" we were tampering with. I wish we had.

Follow that Dream. . .by Linda Kozar

When asked how to get to Neverland, Peter Pan answered, "Second Star to the right, and straight on till morning."

Peter Pan decided he preferred being a boy to being a man. He refused to grow up or grow old. But the rest of us haven't much choice in the matter.

Authors especially.

As an author, I hope and pray things never change, that I never run out of steam or the dream, and that a story will forever stir in my head as I stand at the stove stirring a pot of sauce or soup. But if change is inevitable, let it be in a positive direction.

At the moment, I'm sitting in my favorite chair multi-tasking some writing projects, hoping I don't cross-contaminate characters or plots, and praying I choose the right assortment of words to adequately describe what I see in my mind.

And I do see some incredible things in there:)

In my mind's eye, I see settings in exquisite detail. I know what each character looks like and what each would say or do. I translate these descriptions to my laptop as fast as I can because there are voices and songs and the fragrance of certain flowers to attend to as well. Sometimes I can't get them all down fast enough. My fingers don't type as fast as the neurons fire.

Well, not always. Some days, I can't seem to write a single sentence. Which brings me to a question. . .

Do authors ever get tired of writing?

I'm guessing some do, especially if they're writing something they aren't passionate about. I always ask fellow authors what they would secretly like to write and I'm often surprised by the answer. A romance author wants to write speculative fiction. A mystery writer wants to write nonfiction. A children's author want's to write romantic suspense. But do they? Will they?

Branding isn't a bad thing for authors--it's a strategy for achieving goals . If you write in a certain genre with any element of success, you will probably continue to get more contracts based on that track record. But an author who wants to leapfrog to a different place on the bookshelf, will have some hoops to jump through first. The desire to change, to write something in a different genre might be met with opposition--probably from an agent or editor or both and likely from readers who are always looking for your latest greatest next book in the genre they love and follow. The fear with a loyal reader following is, if you leave them they might leave you.

Which is a risk an author must be willing to take.

But why would an author want to take a risk like that?

Back to passion. If you are passionate about what you write, it seeps into the writing. In fact, such writing is infused with the author's emotion and intent. There's a lot of love in that kind of book. And a book like that is a pleasure to read.

If you want to break out of your little gilded cage, you're going to have to do it and do it well. You're going to have to turn in a stellar work in the rogue genre you chose--a work that will win over your regular readers and inspire new ones.

Given the choice, I urge you to decide early on what kind of writer you want to be and follow that dream. Not someone else's dream. Your dream.

Find your own Never Never Land. I know just how to get there.

"Second star to the right, and straight on till morning."

If you like it, give me the thumbs up with a vote:)

I am in a writing contest. Here's the link to my story, "Mine to Keep." If you like it, would you mind voting for my story?

Share this story:
http://www.familyfiction.com/short-stories/create-romance-2012/mine-to-keep/

CAN Giveaway!

Members of the Christian Authors Network (me included) are doing a GREAT book giveaway on The Book Club Network (TCBN). The giveaway begins Aug. 23 and runs through Aug. 31. www.bookfun.org