As a kid I remember a movie I saw on TV. Giant ants were attacking everyone. Horrified and mesmerized, I watched the entire movie barely blinking. From then on, every chance I could, I tried to see if they were showing it again. Seems I have always been drawn to the scary and the strange. That movie sits in the recesses of my brain. It still haunts me. Much like the original masterpiece the Fly.
Turmoil makes for great writing. So does hard ship and suffering. All that fun, gut wrenching pain life throws at you seems to draw out creativity. Apparently flash flooding helps my campfire story writing.
As I sat waiting for the next round of storms to ravage my back yard some more ideas literally came flooding in to my brain. A sinister smile crept over my face like I had morphed into the Grinch as I typed away my madness.
Currently 20 short campfire stories are in progress for October. In addition to my own crazy ideas, I asked a number of people I know to come up with a title. Nothing more. Give me a title then my mind could run wild creating the story to go with it. They out did themselves. Trust me October will be fun.
Gray gloomy skies are not our normal in the desert. Big happy blue skies are. Sure that’s wonderful and hard to complain about but it makes writing creepy stories harder. Monsoon season rarely disappoints. This year it has given me double rainbows, lightning storms, laser like sun beams and massive flooding. I’m in writing mode.
I finish one rough draft and send it off to my critics. They were asked by me specifically for this role as I knew neither of them would hesitate to take my ideas and bat them straight out of the air. Being half my age they are more aware of current things then I am. Trust me they spare no feelings. It’s what every real artist needs in their life. Honesty. Don’t tell me everything I do is good. It’s not. I actually worried about them when we first started because they seemed to honestly like the first few stories I kicked their way. Lots of positive feedback and excitement.
Then it happened. A story I was enjoying developing got swatted down so hard it made my head spin! Nope. Not scary. Nope. We don’t care. Next.
I don’t watch a lot of what is popular at the moment. Living way out here the reception is not the best and honestly I just don’t sit and watch that much TV or movies.
The story I sent over yesterday recieved a good response I guess if “RAMSEY!” means anything to you. It had to be explained to me. Then I worried about my mental state and stopped writing for a while. I really like that story…
I have been a fan of scary shows since I can remember. Anytime they can harness up a camera to a real family and lock them into a known haunted castle ( Leap Castle is top of my bucket list) I’m in. I’m sure most of the shows are edited and made to seem creepy but there are real places in the world that defy logic. I believe when large amounts of energy gets deposited in one location due to unthinkable horror that energy seems to linger. Call it what you want but the energy is there.
Exhausted from a week of too much, I climbed into bed with the puppies and turned on a very old, possibly original series of Ghost Adventures. It was filmed long enough ago that dudes jeans aren’t bedazzled and their responses feel more legit so I watch.
Our driveway had run all the way down to the street during this last storm. My husband was down there trying to rake enough of it back before the next storm hit and our driveway ended up on the 9th hole. I feel guilty I’m not down there helping him but I really just can’t at this point. My shoulders barely move from dumping buckets of water from the pounding we got on Tuesday. Shoveling mud and rocks is just a no. But I pause the show to look out to see how he’s doing down there.
Cue the horror music now.
I step outside my bedroom door and turn to the left to see the wall is COVERED with enormous red flying ants!!!!@#$@#!!!
Fear sends waves of panic through me. I don’t know what to do. I run to yell for my husband to come then turn to see the wall around the corner has them too! The flood has brought out some frightening creatures!
HUGE red ants! Not little picnic ants. No these beasts you could ride without a saddle! Genetic mutations. I have no idea but they are my worst nightmare.
I scream for help to a sweaty, over worked and now confused man who I’m pretty surer at this point just thinks if he ignores me I might go away. I’m yelling at him from 2 acres away that I have ants invading!
We have nothing for this. No spray. No chemicals. I think bleach. I run and grab the almost empty gallon in the laundry room and run to the swarm on the wall and pour the little I have in the hole only to have about 9000 more come whizzing out at me and up the walls into a crawling red nightmare!
I scream. I run to the back to grab a hose thinking I will drowned them. This house is old. Built in the 1940’s. Nothing works exactly like it should. I run to the hose and unscrew it not realizing this too has it’s own idiosyncrasies and I can’t just take the whole thing off without water blasting me directly in the face! It won’t turn off!!!!
I run to the panel and shut off the pump but water is still flooding out, ants are crawling all over the other side of the house and my brain is having a meltdown.
Frantically I run around to the other side and yell to my husband to get up here NOW!
I am now at full level 10 crazy.
I run back to the gushing faucet and try to re -screw this stupid hose back in place. I’m soaked.
Seriously confused as to how his wife who had been chillen’, watching a favorite show all cozy in bed, is now soaking wet, flooding the side yard and hysterically crying about the ants, reaches over, turns the knob and stops the water.
I have never been so pissed at an inanimate object before in my life. I wanted to rip that damn pipe clean from the wall! He turned it and it shut off!?!? I turned it and got more water! I turned it the other way and more water! I’m not NEW to how a faucet works. I have owned a hose.
Still doesn’t solve my ant invasion. Fuming mad and dripping wet I drag my hero over to the wall that now is not as horrifying because the little bleach I did pour in their hole managed to piss the ants off enough to start relocating.
He acts like he understands my horror…
Ajax powder did the trick.
This morning there is no trace of huge red ants anywhere.
Jumpy, tired and edgy I sit out here under the gray sky waiting for the final round of storms…writing more campfire stories.
You can thank me in October.