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Neither neglected country lanes nor decaying suburban streets are the only places to find scary old ghost houses. Not at all! Walk the mean streets of any American city or town at twilight... or better still, during the lonely reaches of the night. Here abandoned buildings stare through shattered windows, silently scream out of twisted doors, bear witness to the crime of urban blight. Pause, if you dare, at houses that even the street-wise avoid... especially in the hours around midnight... unwanted relics that stand... or die... perhaps even briefly reappear??
I offer you this old townhouse, for example: Was it standing there yesterday? Will it be there tomorrow? These two youngsters aren't sure. They're poised on the knife-edge of fear... Accept the treat? Turn and run? This winning entry in my third "Name That Painting" contest was penned by Patrick Nottingham, and it is the most chilling piece of poetry I can recall reading... ever!
"Tut, tut - tsk, tsk, don' mind the chill.
"Tis morsels of autumn sprinklin' the air, sweet'uns.
Not cruelty, or molderin'bones.
Just bits o'sweets, an'wonder, for you.
"Tut, tut - tsk, tsk, climb rickety stairs. Have some, won'you? B'en long since I've had sweet'uns ta visit."
Turn, run.
But doughy Turkish Delights call. Jem hesitantly steps up with a crossways glance at her brother, named for a long since dead Uncle, Zeke. Salty, October-kissed tears sting his cheek.
Zeke -
goes -
too.
"Tut tut - tsk, tsk, t'ain't nothin' t'fret. Jus'warm cookies, made o'bitters, almonds, maple... an'blood."
Weathered steps groan. Jem! Zeke! STOP! They leave safe sidewalk toward scents of cookies, rotting leaves
-- and reassuring hag smiles.
Jem! Zeke! Look away! The gargoyles... are they... moving?
Last step before - Run Home Now! - feasting.
Zeke imagines his Uncle and Mother, long ago children at a house where a vacant lot should be. His Uncle did something to...
Save HER!
Zeke shoves Jem hard and reaches for the plate of cookies, fingers, eyeballs, squirming wretched things.
She hits the sidewalk. Whump!
An empty lot again,
and Mother's running, crying, wrenching her hair.
Tut, tut - tsk, tsk.
Somewhere Zeke stuffs his mouth to stifle a scream."
A printed copy of this poem will be enclosed with each order for Sweets For The Sweet?
Sweets For The Sweet? has been meticulously scanned from my original watercolor and digitally printed with fade-resistant inks on specially treated heavyweight watercolor paper. I personally inspect your print, sign it, slip it into its protective clear plastic envelope, and include with it a page of helpful framing hints from The Haunted Studio.
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LARGE FORMAT PRINT (19" x
13")
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MEDIUM FORMAT PRINT (14" x
11") |
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Sorry, the original painting has been sold. To view all original paintings currently available, click here. |
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