Boys Will Be, Part Two

The plan was simple enough, what could possibly go wrong?  Bert, the bully who spent his days picking on and tormenting Scottie, had put forth a dare for Scottie to sneak into the Mystery House in their neighborhood to get proof that the house was haunted.  Scottie, skeptical that the house was actually as haunted as people said, was trying to find a way into the house when the front door mysteriously opened for him.  With Bert goading him on from the safety of the sidewalk, Scottie cautiously entered the front door.  Initially, Scottie was unimpressed by the stark hallway before him, which contained no decorations at all.  Scottie saw two doors in the hallway, one at the end of the hall, and one to his left side with a staircase leading to the second floor of the house on his right side.  As he moved down the hallway, Scottie was shocked to see what appeared to be the ghost of a woman appear at the top of the stairs.  When the ghostly woman charge towards him, screaming that he did not belong in the house, Scottie found himself frozen with fear.

With his eyes shut as tight as humanly possible, Scottie felt a sudden urge to flee overtake his mind.  Scottie took two step backwards, then tripped on a rug in the hallway, falling backwards onto the floor.  As he hit the floor, Scotties eyes opened, and he watched the ghostly woman float over him, passing the spot he had been standing.  Scottie scrambled to his feet, and looked back towards the front door he had entered to see the ghostly woman floating there, directly blocking his path out of the Mystery House.

“You should not be here,” the woman hissed, pointing her bony finger at Scottie once again.

“Please,” Scottie whispered, his dry mouth preventing him from speaking fully.

“You should not be here,” the woman screeched again before charging towards Scottie once again.  Scottie let out another hoarse scream before turning around and running towards the closed door at the end of the hallway.  Once he reached the door, Scottie frantically reached for the doorknob, turned it, and felt a microscopic moment of relief as the door opened.  Scottie rushed into the room on the other side of the hallway, slamming the door behind him and falling to the floor with his arms covering his head.

When his pounding heartbeat at last settled to a dull throb in his ears, Scottie realized that several minutes had passed in silence with no sign of the ghostly woman.  Scottie slowly moved his arms away from his head, slowly scanning the area around him for immediate danger.  Scottie was surprised, yet relieved to discover that he had landed on the floor of a rather conventional kitchen.  As Scottie looked around the kitchen, he saw an old, if otherwise unremarkable, refrigerator on the wall opposite the door he had entered. To the left of the refrigerator, a sink with a small countertop attached to it had a small pile of dirty dishes peeking over the rim.  Scottie noticed immediately that the dishes appeared to be recently used, which he found extremely odd.  Scottie found himself wondering if the ghost woman that had attacked him was responsible for the dirty dishes, but he quickly dismissed the absurd notion with a chuckle.  A small window above the sink gave Scottie a view of a sparse and empty back yard.

On the other side of the refrigerator, Scottie saw another closed door that appeared unexceptional.  On the wall directly to the right of the closed door, Scottie saw an old style gas stove  with a couple of dirty pans resting on top.  Behind the stove, another window look out onto the driveway on the side of the house To Scottie’s left, another closed door rested on hinges that would allow the it to swing open and spring back to close once again.

Scottie slowly ran his eyes back and forth between the three doors leading out of the kitchen, including the door he had been chased through, trying to decide what his best course of action would be.  Scottie quickly decided that he did not want to face the ghost woman again, which made the decision to eliminate that particular egress an easy one.  Scottie took a deep breath, looked towards the ceiling of the kitchen, then decided to enter the swinging door to his left.

Scottie stepped towards the door, trying his best to be as quiet as humanly possible, placed his hand on the door, took another deep breath, then carefully pushed the door open.  Another small room occupied the space on the other side of the door as Scottie entered, though he could not focus on the details of the room as he could only focus on what lay in the center.  Scottie let out a gasp of horror as his attention was pulled to a large, wooden table directly in the middle of the room.  The table itself was completely unremarkable, but the man laying on the table shocked Scottie to the very core of his being.

Scottie’s first instinct was to flee in terror when he saw the man lying in two pieces on the table, but he forced himself instead to investigate closer.  The unfortunate man, who was clearly dead, was separated at the waist, cut in half by some unknown blade perhaps, with his legs resting at least a foot away from his upper torso.  What struck Scottie as odd, other than the fact that there was a dead man cut in half lying before him, was the fact that there did not appear to be a single drop of blood anywhere on the table, or on the man himself.  Letting his curiosity guide him, Scottie reached out his hand to touch the man, if only to see if what he saw was real.  As he cautiously moved his hand towards the halved man, the man’s eyes sprung open abruptly, causing Scottie to stumble backwards with a scream.

“You,” the halved man hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Scottie cried, continuing to step backwards.  “Oh no!”

“You s-should,” the man stuttered, struggling to get the words out.

“Don’t,” Scottie whispered.  “Please don’t.”

“You should not be here,” the man stated at last.

“I know,” Scottie whispered.

“You should not be here,” the man said again, louder this time.

“I know,”Scottie whispered, his voice shaking.  “I know.”

“You should not be here,” the man bellowed, loud enough to startle Scottie.

“I know,” Scottie shouted, turning and bursting through the swinging door back into the kitchen.  “I know!  I know!  I know!”

Scottie continued shouting as he ran through the kitchen to the one door he had not yet been through.  Scottie opened the door and was greeted by a darkness that he could not see through.  With fear pushing him, Scottie stepped through the doorway into the darkness, and immediately felt himself fall and tumble down a flight of stairs he could not see.

Boys Will Be, Part One

Scottie stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring nervously at the disturbingly quiet house that everyone in the neighborhood commonly referred to as the Mystery House.  For all of his life, that life being only twelve short years, Scottie had heard various unsettling stories about how the house was haunted, how it was surely made of pure evil, and how people would enter the house and never leave.  Scottie new that there were houses with similar stories in neighborhoods around the world, so he initially did not take any stock in the stories told about the Mystery House.  It was this disbelief in such rumors that led to Scottie being taunted by his nemesis, a bully by the name of Bert.  Bert had scoffed at Scottie’s lack of belief in the stories of the Mystery House, convinced that Scottie was lying and just pretending to be brave in front of his friends.  When Scottie attempted to protest, Bert challenged him to enter the Mystery House and find out for himself what was inside.

“Well,” Bert said, his voice laced with impatience, “you goin’ in, or what?”

“This is really lame,” Scottie replied angrily.  “What, you get this idea out of cartoon, or movie, or something?  What are you going to do, sneak in after me and try to scare me while I’m in there?”

“Are you nuts,” Bert exclaimed, shaking his head.  “I ain’t goin’ in there! You might not believe it’s haunted, but I sure do.”

“Fine,” Scottie said, letting out a derisive sigh.  “I’ll go in there and prove that there is nothing weird going on in that house.  But, when I come out, you have to stop picking on me.  If you don’t, then I’m going to spread the word at school that you were too scared to go in there with me.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Bert said, raising his hands in a gesture of capitulation.  “You survive the ghosts in there, and you gain my full respect.  No more picking on you, ever again.  But, you gotta survive first.”

Scottie shook his head in annoyance, and headed up the walkway towards the  Mystery House.  As he neared the front door, Scottie studied the exterior of the house cautiously.  Though the house was obviously old, it was by no means decrepit or dilapidated.  The house was dark brown, with a dark roof.  Scottie tried to peer into each window of the house, the two windows on the first floor, and the three windows on the second floor, but all of the windows of the house were covered in what Scottie could only guess were thick curtains that blocked, or perhaps swallowed up, every possible speck of light that might enter or leave the house.Scottie slowly walked up the three wooden steps leading to the front door, wincing as the planks of each step creaked, protesting each step he took.  Once he reached the top step, Scottie paused, stared at the solid wooden front door, took a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock.

“Yo, Scottie,” Bert called out from the sidewalk in front of the Mystery House.  “What are you doing?  You think you can just knock on the front door, and the ghosts are just going to open up and let you in?  Com on dumb-ass!”

“What am I supposed to do,” Scottie called back turning to face his bully.  “You got any brilliant ideas?”

“Use a window or something, genius,” Bert yelled.  “Duh!”

“Ok, I got it,” Scottie shouted, turning to face Bert.  Scottie opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut short by the sound of a doorknob clicking followed by the creaking of a door.  Scottie slowly turned back towards the front door of the Mystery House to discover that the door had somehow opened slightly.

“Oh shit,” Bert exclaimed in a loud whisper.  “Looks like someone’s expecting you.”

Scottie leaned to his left slightly to peer into the breach of the house left by the slightly open front door.  All Scottie could see on the other side of the door was a dark hallway that gave no indication as to what lie beyond the doorway to the Mystery House.  Scottie took several deep breaths before placing his and on the door, and slowly pushing it open further.

“Hey dingus,” Bert called out, startling Scottie as he took a step towards the door.

“What,” Scottie hissed, turning just enough to see Bert out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t forget to take out your phone.  Get as many pictures as you can.  Maybe some video too.”

“Fine,” Scottie called back, sighing in frustration and rolling his eyes.  Scottie pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and checked the battery strength to see that the phone was at a ninety percent charge.  Scottie activated the camera function on his phone, raised the phone up to his eye level, and began recording a video of what he saw.  Scottie then pushed the front door of the Mystery House fully open, and cautiously entered the dark hallway before him.

As he walked down the hallway, Scotties eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and he began to see details of the area surrounding him.  The hallway Scottie found himself in stretched out about ten feet before him, with a stair case on his right side, halfway down the hall leading to the second floor of the building.  The hallway itself was rather plain, lacking any sort of decoration or picture on the walls.  At the end of the hallway, a closed door faced Scottie, with another closed door located directly to his left.  Scottie studied both doors, trying to decide which door to investigate first, when he was startled by a flash of light from the top of the staircase.  Scottie looked up towards the flash to see the disembodied figure of pale woman staring back at him.  The woman appeared to be floating in the air, with a faint white glow surrounding her.

“You should not be here,” the woman shrieked, raising a skeletal looking hand towards Scottie and pointing directly at him.

Scottie opened his mouth to speak to the ghostly woman, but found that the words stalled in the back of his throat, choking him.

“You should not be here,” the woman shrieked again, here voice bone-chillingly cold with a pitch that would have dogs cringing.

“I, I’m sorry,” Scottie whispered through dried out lips.

“You should not be here,” another deathly screech.

“I know,” Scottie cried out.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll leave.  I’m sorry.”

“You should not be here,” the ghostly woman screeched again as she began floating down the stairs towards Scottie.  Scottie watched in terror as the woman approached him, her feet never touching the stairs below her.  Frozen with fear, Scottie could only manage to let out a scream, unable to convince his feet to function even though he desperately wanted to run as far away as possible.  A short moment later, the ghost woman was floating right in front of Scottie, reaching out her gaunt hands towards him as she screamed out angrily.  Scottie could only match the woman’s screams as he closed his eyes and prepared for what would come next.

A Little More Poetry For You To Enjoy

My last posting gave you a small taste of some of the poetry I have written over the years, but I decided to focus that post solely on poems about writing.  I do have a few other poems I have written that I would like to share with you now.  Please remember, I do not consider myself to be a poet at all.  I just dabble in poetry a little, and these are a few of my favorite poems that I have written.  I hope you will enjoy them.


By Derrick Nadeau
I feel so small,
So insecure,
So inconsequential,
As if all the world steps on me,
And none give it a thought

Curse Of The Self (An Ode To A Fool)

By Derrick Nadeau
Unto your soul I shall bless thee
With eternal damnation
For it is upon your shoulders
That I rest the ails of men
Shall they not weigh too heavily on you
Leaving you in eternal agony
May your own self-pity wash over you
May it drag you into the abyss that has become your soul
Let not humanity weep for you
For it is your only evil
That you must look upon yourself
With such pathetic disdain
Where have all your loved ones faded too?
How truly foolish you are
You have not been abandoned
Your eyes are just too clouded to see
Clouded by what you have allowed yourself to become
To what do you owe this infernal suffering?
Merely your own wounded ego

The Soul Of A Thunderstorm

By Derrick Nadeau
Tell me, have you ever listened to a thunderstorm?
Have you heard the ferocious rumble of thunder
Echoing throughout the city
The rain beating down on the ground
Soothing your worries and cares
Singing a melody of bliss
Tell me, have you ever watched a thunderstorm?
Watched the claws of lightning
As they reach for the unobtainable round
Watched them light up the evening sky
Causing night to return to day for a brief moment
Giving the world an aura of peace
Tell me, have you ever felt a thunderstorm?
Felt the drops of rain wash out your heart
Felt the thunder shudder the earth
Felt the lightning sharpen the air
Together they create a true force of nature
That pauses the world before bringing it new life
Tell me, have you ever smelt a thunderstorm?
The smell of the world being cleansed
The smell of freshness
The smell of something new
Take a deep breath sometime
You may find it refreshing
Tell me, have you ever tasted a thunderstorm?
Tasted the rain falling from the heavens
Tasted the air as it relaxes 
Allowing the rain to pass through it
The taste of the dirt of the world washing away
It is the taste of paradise
Maybe you should try it sometime
Let the soul of a thunderstorm refresh you

There you have it, a few more poems for you to reflect on.  I hope you might find some enjoyment reading them.  Who knows, maybe you might even find some inspiration as well.  Until next time my friends, take care of yourselves.

A Little Poetry For You To Chew On

Even though I would not classify myself as a poet in any way, shape, or form, I have written a few poems in my time.  I thought I might share a couple of them with you for your enjoyment.  I hope you will enjoy them at least.  The poems in this posting are about how I feel when I am writing.  I have other poems I will share in future posts if you like these.


By Derrick Nadeau, AKA ChumleyD
My pen bleeds
Spilling ink on paper
Opening doors to my thoughts
As the blood flows
As the ink spills
My life is strewn about the page
my inner most feelings expressed
For all to analyze
That is the price I pay
For expression
My soul bleeds
Thoughts and feelings
Words and emotions
For all to masticate
My soul bleeds
My pen drinks
My thoughts flow
My words stain the pages
That is the price I pay
For expression
My mind bleeds
Sending thoughts into the world
Opening channels to my heart
Allowing access to my emotions
My mind bleeds
My reality changes
I see the world through new eyes
Allowing others in to share my experience
If that is the price I pay for expression
Then I will gladly let my blood be spilled

Blood Flow

By Derrick Nadeau
I’m bleeding again
I feel it rushing forth
the warmth is comforting
Like a cleansing of my heart
The blood spills onto the page
I spread it with my fingers
My excitement builds
So, I reach down inside
To open the wound
To let myself bleed out
I let the thoughts that have built up inside
Find their release
I close my eyes
To let my hands work freely
I begin to feel dizzy
Yet, I cannot let it stop me
Not while I still have blood left in me
That needs to be purged
It is only through this purging
That I can find my peace
When I finally empty
I open my eyes
I look down at the blood soaked page
And I marvel at what I see

Finally, here’s a poem I wrote about the feeling I have in the back of my mind whenever I let someone read my writing.  I get this feeling every time I add another post to my blog, and I will get it as soon as I post this.  The key is to push past those immediate feelings and just let my words be released, which is never easy.


By Derrick Nadeau

Don’t read this, please
I can’t…
I can’t allow you inside
I feel so vulnerable right now
So afraid to express myself
Afraid of how you might see me
It is foolish, I know
There are often times when it scares me
To  release my thoughts and feelings
Onto pages to be read
Yet, when I allow my words to escape
I can deny no one who wishes to read them
That is what frightens me the most

There you have a small sampling of my version of poetry, I hope you enjoyed reading them.  As I stated earlier, I do not consider myself any kind of poet, I just dabble in poetry.  I enjoy branching out every once in a while, you have to allow yourself to explore a little bit after all.  Until next time my friends, don’t be afraid to open yourself up to a little of the poetry of life.

%d bloggers like this: