The Sign of the Yellow Jack_A True (Ghost) Story_Graveyard Smash_Worms of Confusion
Catalog Guide:
The Sign of the Yellow Jack
A brisk musky breeze invigorated with everything that bespoke the rolling blue sea fluttered the crisp pages of the logbook dangling from Captain Jones’s long, slender fingers. Lackadaisically, the young captain closed his eyes and leaned against the smooth rail of the quarterdeck, his chest rising as he inhaled a deep breath of the clean ocean air.“You have the last account done, Jones?” inquired Captain Tates who was stroking the glossy feathers of one of the parrots brought aboard from the Canary Islands.“Which one?” hummed Jones as his bright grey eyes snapped open and he glanced askance a...
A True (Ghost) Story
A TRUE (GHOST) STORYby Daniel DundinIt started with a jar of eye cream. She had left the little canister on her dresser yet when she returned from work it was on the floor, broken. She had cleaned it up and worried more about the cost of replacing it than how it had plunged to its death.Two days later, it was the shower curtain. She’d found it lying in a heap, tangled around its rod, jutting from the tub. www.onedoor.ccPerhaps the tension was getting old, she'd thought, the springs not holding as they should.Today it was the kitchen cabinet. The doors hung open, as if she had given up closing them halfway t...
Graveyard Smash
It all began because of a lame old song, sung or recited by a one-hit singer nobody could pick out of a crowd. The song was even inspired by an earlier, odd-duck tune with the theme of mashed potatoes. The earlier one was sung by a girl group, maybe around 1960. That didn’t keep the lame song from becoming way too popular, from being played annually at a certain time of the year: pre-Halloween. Every year since 1962 right up until now that tune haunts commuters by car, customers who walk by a store display and set off the mummy with a spooky voice, who starts to sing; or any weekend gathering ...
Worms of Confusion
For days, Jane was humming the song “Closing Time” thinking back on how much she liked the last episode of Seinfeld. She was humming it in line for coffee and a skinny blonde guy with multiple tattoos started singing it. They both laughed.“You like Seinfeld too,” Jane asked him. He looked at her quizzically, dropped eye contact, and fussed with his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone, which was clearly not buzzing. Jane shrugged, smiled, and kept humming until the barista took her order for one large gingerbread latte.“Don’t have gingerbread any more. Only at Christmas time. For spring we hav...