Hello my beautiful monsters. As you know it is Spooky Season, which is my favorite time of year. I love me some sweater weather. I don’t give a damn about pumpkin spiced anything, but having hot chocolate or a chai latte on a cool morning — now that I fucks with!
One of the major things I miss about being a kid was hearing scary stories and being naive enough to kinda believe them. One of the worst things about growing up is when you stop believing in cool stuff like magic, ghosts and monsters. I liked the world a lot better when part of me believed in giant, red-eyed mothmen, lake monsters and haunted houses.
As an adult you find out that monsters ARE real, but they are really just awful people — sometimes in your own family. Creatures like Bigfoot and Nessie have been scienced to death, and, by now, there would have been some solid proof of their existence. Same goes for ghosts and hauntings.
Science and lack of proof makes the skeptic in me feel more powerful, leaving the want to believe… well, lacking. I still WANT to believe but without seeing and experiencing things for myself, I don’t think I ever will. Between A.I. and all of the stories proven to be hoaxes, my mind seems pretty closed on most spooky subjects.
But, oh! How I miss the blissful ignorance of being young, dumb and unjaded. I miss the campfire stories we would tell each other when we were kids. Well, we didn’t go camping much, but we would tell them to each other usually while laying on a friend’s trampoline, in their backyard, late at night … like 10 p.m.
Do y’all remember the story of the lady of White Rock Lake? Supposedly, many people have encountered her. The story is that there would be a young woman in a white dress walking around Whie Rock Lake late at night. And when someone would stop and ask if she were okay, she would say she was lost and wanted to get home. She would get in the back seat, and they would drive her to the place she said she lived. But when they pulled up to the house, there would only be a bunch of wet flowers in the back seat. Then when the person who had “picked her up” went up to the house, the family that lived there would explain that the girl they had given a lift to was the ghost of their daughter who had died in White Rock Lake when her car crashed into the water.
Ooooh, spooky!
(Well, that’s the version we heard.)
Then there is the Goatman of Lake Worth. I heard about him when I was a kid and always wanted to go to Lake Worth to look for him. I think he was the closest thing to Bigfoot we had here in the DFW area.
There was an old funeral home in Pleasant Grove, near where I grew up, that had been closed for years. We went there once and got inside through a window. It was so spooky. There were a couple of places inside where the temperature definitely dropped. We heard sounds that scared the fuck out of us, coming from certain rooms. But we are pretty sure it was just a homeless man. Or, at least, that’s what we told ourselves as we ran our asses all of the way home.
When we were about 15 or 16, we heard about a house that had been rumored to have cannibals living in it. So, of course we drove to the area to see if we could find our local Leatherface. It was late on a Friday or Saturday night, and we drove around in the general area where the rumors said it was. We did find a long gravel road that led to a big, locked gate with signs that said, “No Trespassing” and “Turn Back Now!”
That was plenty for our wimpy asses. By the time we got home we had convinced ourselves that there were severed hands hanging on the gate. Our level of bullshit was probably the scariest part of the story.
I did have one spooky experience as an adult that still kinda makes me think. It was about a year after we moved into our house. My husband was a tow truck driver and out on a call in the middle of the night. I was lying in bed, watching TV with my two little Pomeranians, Dax and Evee. Suddenly they both jumped up and started to growl and bark at something at the foot of my bed.
They both were staring at the same spot and would not calm down. Dax was growling with his fur standing up — a vicious growl I had never heard from him. And Evee was about a foot away from him, bitch barking like crazy. They were both focused on the same spot in midair.
I was freaked out and didn’t wanna get out of the bed. It went on for about four minutes, then they both stopped at the exact same time. I called Jamie and told him to hurry up and get home. It took me a while to calm down, and to this day I have no idea what the fuck they were barking at. It hasn’t happened again. I figure my vicious little pom poms scared away whatever it was. Honestly, I told myself it was probably a squirrel or a mouse in the walls and not a ghost or spirit trying to get me.
What are some scary stories y’all remember from your childhood? Do you believe? I am not saying I will never believe, but I’m a cynical bitch. It would take something big to get me to change my mind, but I’m not so stubborn to think it will never happen.
Boo bitches! Happy Halloween. Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous!
XOXO, Cassie Nova.