Life doesn’t start at the end, so why am I compelled to write from the end? I don’t know the story, the beginning hasn’t started and the middle is nowhere in sight. But the end, the end is interesting, intriguing and yet, the beginning can’t develop until the end.
A person’s life has to start from infancy but a story is different. A story can start from anywhere the writer wants the reader to begin. Confused? Me too. It’s like watching the end of a movie before watching the beginning. We’ve seen a few movies like that where the ending is shown before the movie starts to keep the watcher watching to see what happened in order to get to that point of the end. Follow me?
For me as a writer the end is the beginning of where I start a new story. I write backwards, from the end to the middle to the beginning. Sometimes I mix it up. I’ll write a chapter and either follow it by the next chapter or write something which leads up to the chapter I just wrote. It’s the way my mixed up brain functions in the world of fiction. I have those annoying finger tapping characters whispering to me at night. The floors creek beneath their buoyant glow as they dare my eyes to shut and sleep prevails. Wick emotions pray upon my dreams snatching the rest that’s much needed, so I rise. Their demands of a captivating story to reveal the evil intents of a twisted end, daring the reader to turn the page before darkness, the delusions real, and the hair on the nape of their neck salute the shadowy figure, which rest quietly behind them. Cool air escaping the pinched translucent lips of what once was a fleshed human.
T. Wharton Johnson is the author of The Eye of Lies and other short stories.
Living among the dead.
We all know ghostly spirits are out there, but do they know they are dead?
I have always believed in ghost after an experience as a child and later as a teen and adult but I’ve never caught an image on camera such as this one. While waiting on the school bus with my grandkids the other morning I had the eerie feeling we weren’t alone, it wasn’t the first time I had taken a picture in the dark at the same spot but this was bone chilling.
The other pictures were mere floating dust particles and a red eye from a rabbit. This picture however looks to be that of a person leaning on their hand staring at us. (The picture taken from the driver seat, over the dash to the right.) I enhanced the picture in a blue hue so it can be seen better. Some people, paranormal investigators as well, have said it looks like a woman with dark hair. Her hand to her chin, you can almost see fingertips and others have said it looks like a person with their head titled slightly in the same position, with their hand to their chin, the other arm lying on top of the hood of the car. There were three photos taken at the time of this image, the other two images showed nothing. Once the bus came, I hurried back up the driveway and into the house, where I shut and locked the door. Chills crept up my spine the rest of the day. The next morning I embraced the kids, along with a bb gun for protection. Okay don’t laugh my bb gun is powerful and loud, not that it would hurt the ‘thing’ but I felt safe.
As for the body buried under the house, well…, that reminds to be “seen,” I for one don’t want to conjure up any more evils that already exist on the property.