drinkswiththeunknown

Another average late afternoon on the porch was passing the older couple by. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on. As usual. Birds chirping, cars driving by, and the occasional walking neighboring on the sidewalk. The man was known by all the dogs in the neighborhood for his generosity to animals. A stray was almost guaranteed to find scraps at their house. So, when the black, raggedy mutt showed up from the side of the house it was nothing out of the ordinary. At this point, it was routine to find a dog lurking around looking for handouts. However, this was the one time the routine was disrupted. Its walk was peculiar. It walked as though it had been run over by a car - multiple times. Or, walking on four legs didn't come naturally to it. It made its way to the steps of the porch and stared at the couple sitting on the bench swing. Before they could say anything, the animal spoke. "Hello." The word unnaturally creaked out of its mouth and was at first to understa...

Time to time hikers stumble upon the cabin in the woods located off the marked trails in Cedar Hill. The cabin only appears if the apparition of a young girl decides you are worthy of being a victim to the witch of the woods. Some say it's the witch herself disguised as a young girl in distress.  Doesn't matter what form she takes, as long as you don't follow her into the cabin. If you do make it inside the cabin, then don't expect to come out. No one does. Agatha lived a life of solitude in the woods. Her husband left her for another woman after many failed attempts at having children. She was alone up until the neighboring townsfolk took it upon themselves to burn down her home with her still inside. People feared her. For no reason other than she let herself go because of the loss of her husband. Rumors spread she was a witch after many of the newborns in town began to die unexpectedly. It was easier to blame the hermit who could not have children for the ...

"Hold your breath when you pass a cemetery, or you'll breathe in a spirit and take it home with you." "What? I never heard that before." "My cousin was a jerk to me when I was a kid and told me that and I've always done it. I'm not going to risk it." "Ok, well, this cemetery is long, and we have to take this road. It's a shortcut to the apartment." "I can do it." I held my breath as long as I could. Fifty yards before the end of Hall Street and my lungs were on fire. Lightheadedness kicked in. My eyes became watery. That large gasp of air was a relief from the pain I felt in my chest. That large gasp of air was exactly what the spirit from Greenwood cemetery needed to get inside of me. I was the vessel it needed to escape the cemetery and make its way to their new home.  Our home. Cemetery superstitions The first part of that story has some truth. When I was growing up, I had some unpleasant times with...

The year is 1989. Harold is finishing up another late night in his office on the thirteenth floor located off Blackburn and Oak Lawn near Turtle Creek. Work is never done when you are skimming off the top of cooked books for shady business owners. Harold played a prominent role for many of his clients. Some he never met face to face. There's always a third-party when dealing with Harold. He was careful. He was meticulous. Above all else, he was smart. Harold knew if he was ever caught, he would have to make a smooth getaway. Only a few people see his face. And none of them, as far as he knew, were ever the ones paying him. After fifteen years of cooking books and no one catching on, he felt invincible. This could be what led him to take on more clients that asked for more than adding a zero here and there.  When he was leaving his office this night, he was approached by a man he had not met before. But this man knew Harold. Normally when working a job Harold meets with the s...

It's always at night. Not every night though. If you listen carefully, you'll hear creaking from the hallway near the balcony overlooking the living room. Almost sounds like a wooden door blowing back and forth like a  cliché  from a horror film. My family won't admit to what we hear. Or on the rarer occasion feel. The air around the balcony is heavy. A draft can be felt as though it passes through you. Something tells me whatever it was we experienced in that home may have been what drove Licker to what he did. How could anyone decide their only option is to have someone killed? The original owner of the home hung himself from that balcony in 1962. Coincidence Licker had people murdered a little over 20 years later? Maybe. I believe the spirit that haunted that home possessed Licker to commit such a heinous crime. He hired those men with the intent to murder. Not just send a message. Money and drugs might nudge men to do crazy things; but, a spirit is a push. White ...