GHOST’S ON THE GROUND: 6 HERITAGE

Two words.

Spectacular.

The morning has been filled with dismay, hands shake, throat burns. Blurred vision as uneasiness fills my sweat stained eyes. Did I survive the intentional unbalance only to pursue further lunacy?

What was I thinking?

NOT VERY SQUARE, JUST SAYING.

Saw it on T.V. I did. So I just went there without force or coercion of any kind. Simply made a reservation drove there and went.

If you are one of those that long for old L.A. or just a novice history buff, do I have a place for you. Open every Saturday and Sunday 11-4, I think. Don’t ask me dude, check their website, I’m just some dork passing by.

Eighteen bucks and you too will get the keys to enter the mad filled world of yesteryear.

That most certainly is not a key.

What is this weirdness that’s afoot? I ask.

I know, It’s a movie studio backlot.

Nope, Just some old weird houses that some smart people decided to relocate, restore and then turn into a substantial museum.

For this next shot I walked into the shadow (how do you think I got that cool effect?) of the church turned and looked back.

What Mayberry looks like in hell.

As I look about it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. Step after step stranger than the last, how can this be?

Shadows move, reality shifts. The very air is absurd.

Is this where it finally all ends?

Time stops.

YOU KNOW I’M POWERLESS

You can just wander around on your own for a mere 7 beans but be aware you can’t go inside of the houses for this price.

No, not for me, I chose to take a guided tour as that is the way to get inside the dreams and see where the dread is made. Each house more haunted than the last. I know it’s true because I asked the lovely tour guide.

Do tell of this obscurity, I begged. So she bravely told a tale of being there late and alone one stormy evening.

She’ll tell you too, all you have to do is ask, as I did.

Used multiple cameras I see.Yes, but only outside.

No photos of any kind are allowed inside the houses period!

I take my gear right back to the trunk of my car and deposit safely.

Of course leave it to a bloody tourist as an English lady pulled out her phone more than once but everyone else held sway.

According to legend this is one of the two “Super” haunted houses.

If you say speechless you just sound stupid.

Filled with terrifying angles of menace.

Behind each window a suspicion, a threat, a lie.

Had to be a ghost as my phone inexplicably fell out of my hand then somehow shot a pretty cool photo. The damnedest thing, it was.

Filled with the loss of forever.

Cool Shadow. Hey, Are you trying to show off?

Well, I am as fat as Orson Welles.

You feel it? This is the one that the tour guide warned of. This is the haunted house where her adventure into Hell took place.

IT’S THE EYES THAT TERRIFY.

Clear absolute proof of the existence of spiritual interference. That curtain is drawn as any one can clearly see.

You tell me that same curtain has not moved, go on you tell me. Tell me we didn’t just see what you and I clearly saw happen.

May be my favorite photo I’ve ever taken.

This is one vicious mother roaster of a dwelling. Vibrates with peril it does.

Satan lives in that church

Stop laughing, he does too, I saw him.

TOLD YOU SMART ASS!

COOL FOCAL POINT

The light has made short work of one’s sanity. Certain of nothing, a hopeless feeling flows over my being. Melancholy my only mate.

Seven domiciles each more tortured than the last, filled with unimaginable delights. The sad dust of ruin. The decay of loss.

The wisdom of the dead means nothing but time gone wrong.

Oh, Hi Satan.

Nothing.

Not saying I’m giving up, yet. Disheartened and a touch blase perhaps but have not yet begun to fight my troubled abashment. What was I searching for again?

Time and time I seem to forget what the hunt even was. Inner peace? Inner turmoil? A lost highway leading me safely home?

Discomposure lost it on the way to nowhere and that is where I find myself now, the corner of nowhere and nowhere nearer.

Adrift in my own mental nonsense pursuit. One last thought flutters in.

A horror machine so huge it simply can’t be quelled! Generations of desperation and loss. I know where I have to go, have known all along but was a coward and didn’t want to even utter its fouled name aloud even just in passing.

The portal to hell awaits. Who’s in?

Lar Feb-Mar 25

You can see how this has some good ideas but I just don’t know how to write them.