Canned Corn

It was a hot summer day in 1954 when a little town in Georgia was shaken.

As the story goes little seven-year-old Betsy Monroe was coloring at the kitchen table as her mother Sadie was making pancakes, her spatula in one hand and cigarette in the other. The air was full of smoke.

Betsy’s childhood was hard. Two months ago her mother kicked out husband number four, who was by far the nicest.

The phone rang, who the caller was didn’t even matter to Betsy; all she knew was her mother was busy laughing while the pancakes burnt and there wasn’t enough batter for more. Her stomach was empty, her red hair was filthy and her arms were covered in cigarette marks.  Sadie came back in, waving her hands, cursing due to the blacking smoke. “Well, now I need to throw these out!”  She yelled.

Sadie started dish water. The sound of the hot water rushing and hitting the sink put Betsy into the trance like state.  Sadie turned to her daughter as she lit another cigarette, “Sometimes I can’t believe how bad my life has become.”   Betsy turned her focus back to her coloring.

As Sadie started to clean the pan, Betsy slipped away from the table and into the pantry where she found one can… a can of corn. Sadie was still washing the dishes as Betsy quietly pushed a kitchen chair towards her mother’s hunched over back. She stood on the chair and took a deep breath. Then with all of her might she hit her mother in the back of her head with the canned corn.

Sadie fell to the black and white tile floor. Betsy jumped down, she looked at her mother for a while and then at the dented can in her shaking hand. Sadie started to move her hand; Betsy knew that she could not let her mother live if she ever wanted to be happy. She started to strike her as hard as she could, one bone cracking blow after another. No one knows when Sadie was really killed, a few days passed since any one heard from them and a neighbor Doris Wright came to see them. Doris was soon in shock and tears. Sadie’s face was deformed; cuts and welts made it look as if she was beaten by a team of men with brass knuckles. Her hair was a matted bloody mess. Next to her was a dented can.

Doris turned around to find Betsy coloring. There were hundreds of pieces of paper full of black swirls and zigzags. 

Since that day Betsy has never talked, she just sits and colors by the window of her room at the town’s mental hospital.              

St. Valentine's Day 1882

With a full quiver of arrows and an ivory bow 

Cupid aims for pure and true love, as you know

But miss Effie Moore was cheated and wronged 

Her heart was ready for love and she had longed 

But Cupid knew that her beau Edward Malone 

Was meant to marry pretty miss Lucy Stone

In the woods Effie found the wandering winged child 

Her anger boiled over and she planned something wild
She called his name and offered chocolate cake 

He was sweet and trusting, that was his mistake 

With her letter opener that looks like a long sword

She cut his neck and he died without a last word 

Effie was pleased, she took his arrows and the ivory bow 

A knock at Lucy's door had her beaming a glow 

She was surprised to see Effie on the other side 

Miss Moore shot Lucy Stone with an arrow, on the floor she lied  

She walked Brewer St. to the Malone home to kill the sap 

In the parlor she found Edward asleep taking a catnap 

Effie whispered in his ear, "You will never again wrong me" 

His eyes opened and a scream came out "You are crazy Effie!"

She took the ivory bow and began to bash in his face 

Edward's blood stained Effie's white dress of French lace

Pleased with how well it all turned out, she went on her way 

At the Malone boy's funeral she was the only one in gray 

Then it was put together and the cops came for Effie Moore 

She was missing, some say she was now living by the sea shore

 

                                                                                            - Storm Sandlin

                                                                                            May All Your Nightmares Be Relived

Just A Game

Ruby flames of candles flicker and the night air is still
I watch the board as the eye moves to the spirits' will
The other side is coming through, I hear the moans...
A portal is now open, the clock chimes echoing tones
Supernatural forces surround, this is nothing like I planned
Deep fear overcomes me, I cannot move, frozen I stand
M-U-R-D-E-R the word is spelled, my heart races
On the wooden floor I hear disembodied paces
The flames burn out; I am not alone in the dark
A haunting song, words unknown sing like a devilish lark
I am blind in the shadows, looking for a way out, I seek hope
Ice cold hands hold me; this is beyond anything I can cope
Laughing of this demonic, unholy thing fills the room
My last breath exits my body, I know inescapable doom
I now look down to see myself just a lost soulless shell
It was just a game; I'm in a shadow filled world where nothing is well

Yes it is I

Yes it is I, the one who sends chills down your spine
Yes it is I, the one who flashes behind you in the mirror
Yes it is I, the one who makes the untraceable sound
Yes it is I, the one who whispers things in your ear
Yes it is I, the one who stares holes into your soul
Yes it is I, the one who makes your nightmares come true

 

Dancing the Night Away

On a balcony a dashing man in a suit and a ravishing lady wearing a black backless dress dance as the golden-pink sun shines behind them, highlighting their faces. Soft music fills the jasmine perfumed air. Around and around they twirl about. He holds her close and whispers sweet nothings in her ear. She tells him about her hopes and her dreams, and that he is one that is coming true. For hours they seem frozen in time. Her heart is lighter than ever before. As the moon starts to awake his hands become grey and his fingers are elongated with nails a foot long. He digs into her back pulling down and across. He is tearing her apart. Blood covers his monstrous hands. They continue to dance until she is hollow, her limp body falls to the floor. He composedly cleans his hands and returns home. Waiting for another invitation.

The Flock

The sky turns black as ravens eclipse the sun
Ebony flashes fly by, when will this be done?
A frenzy of them swoop down for feeding time
You wonder why this is, no reason, no rhyme
They land upon the unsuspecting crowd
Feasting until they have had their fill
Faces are hidden in this consuming black shroud
They have no emotion, no guilt as they kill
In the terrorized streets the people lie
Bloody and dying, most missing an eye
Why run? They will see you from the sky                                                            
                                              - Storm Sandlin

Night Terror

In the moonlit sky a menacing bat flies overhead
It comes through the window, eyes glowing red
Taking human form it stands over your waiting bed
Swiftly you are bitten, devoured, drained dry, left for dead
Hunger having been satisfied, it leaves fully fed
Once again it takes to the sky, filling all hearts with dread
Now to the place that it dwells, it walks the halls among the undead
In a satin-lined coffin, it closes the lid without a word said

Storm Sandlin