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THE HOME
Well, hip-hooray, it's Halloween, and time to write one of those scary stories that seems like an old, rehashed campfire tale of yesteryear.
Sorry, that sounds a little cynical, doesn't it?
You know me, I'm always pushing for something new, something frightening, yet totally different.
I was sitting around trying to think of a good location to stage my next horror story in, you know, someplace you never see people write about but is as frightening as all hell. I thought, Death Row? Yeah, that's scary; there's people there who know they're going to eventually die, but still, they might get a reprieve. That's not scary, that's a happy ending.
Then I was suddenly struck with the idea of using a nursing home. Now, you probably wouldn't imagine a nursing home to be very scary, but they are. Oh yeah, they are very scary. I know, because I've been to several of them. In fact, my Mom died in one, and my Dad is in one right now, and I can tell you from being up close and personal, they are very, very creepy . . . creepy as hell.
Think about it, most nursing homes are overflowing with people just waiting to die, and there ain't no reprieve coming, that's for sure. Now, I ask you, what could be more frightening, more scary than that? A stinking facility filled with nothing but old people just lingering around waiting for Mr. Death to come and take them to . . . God knows where.
So I thought, hey, this is where we all make our last stand, where we swallow that dry lump of fear and discover the answer to the age old question, what happens after we die?
So, what happens? And you say, "I dunno."
It's ironic really, because it's an answer that only dead people can tell you.
I have to wonder, are old folks afraid to die?
In a nursing home they find themselves in unfamiliar surroundings, no family around for support, and knowing all along they're damn well going to die. How much more scary can it get? These seasoned-citizens are about to find out the answer to the most well-kept secret since the very beginning of all time. Frightening? Damn straights!.
Nevertheless, back to Nursing Homes . . . .
The last nursing home I went to literally stunk. It smelled of urine and shit, and fear mostly--the fear of dying. Hell, it's where we all go to die in the end, isn't it? There's nothing for it. Where else can we go? The money grabbing kids put you away, and then there you are. "Enjoy your last days on earth folks. I hope you like it. Don't forget to write."
Most seniors living (or I should say dying) in nursing homes just kind of drift off into a doctor-manufactured 'dream land'. They're all doped up on some weird combination of pills or another to keep them quiet and manageable, while slowly but surely they slip more and more into a strange senility.
It's sad really. I mean, you can pass by their rooms and hear them moaning and groaning, calling out to you, or anyone who happens to walk by, as if they were a lost son or daughter they recognized. You stop to look in, because hell, someone's calling, and there you see an old man reaching out to you, arms outstretched with his flesh barely hanging on his bones, calling you his, Jack or Mary, or whoever, someone he's sure he knows from his long and fruitful life but who has never taken the time to come and visit. Yeah, someone, but not you, and it makes you feel kind of weird, sort of displaced and odd inside.
I mean, you want to help, but you know you can't. Besides, what could you possibly do? Pretend? Pretend, for just a moment that you're somebody else, somebody they know, maybe wipe the spittle from the corner of their mouth, or give their shriveled hand a reassuring squeeze?
No, you don't want to do that, and you sure as hell don't want to go in there and actually talk to them. That would be just too damn strange, and you're too afraid anyway, because they look scary (really, really scary) and they're so close to death--so very, very close--and you think you just might catch something. Hell, if you looked hard enough, you'd probably see Death standing right next to their bed, watching to see what you'll do . . . just watching and waiting. Hell it's all good. Besides, your turn will come soon enough.
But it's no way to die--just lying around shitting on yourself and waiting for someone to come and take you home. But you know how it is, the kids never come, and pretty soon the old farts just kind of lose their place in life--like a bookmark that has fallen out of a book. And then after awhile, who they were yelling for in the first place becomes more and more unintelligible: a garbled kind of sound really, like a person whose forgotten how to speak.
But I suppose it's all part of that Great Journey, you know, one foot closer to the grave, and the other chaffed and bleeding against freshly peed sheets.
It's no way to die. No damn way at all.
Nursing Homes are crowded with women. At least, that is the statistical average. For some reason men never seem to last that long once their dignity is taken and they're just put away to rot. Men are stubborn animals, and so they become what they call, cantankerous: too mulish to eat, and too damn ornery and pissed-off to go out without a fight. So the old farts just bitch at the staff and eventually starve themselves to death.
Yeah, good times at the old nursing home . . . good times.
If you think about it, people die hard. If you don't believe me, go to a nursing home. The myth about folks just closing their eyes and falling to sleep is really nothing more than that--a myth. It isn't like we see in all the old movies, where God reaches down and softly gathers you into His arms. Hell no. It's more like a dramatic wrenching and tearing away of the soul--a real battle.
People die hard because they don't want to die. They fight for every breath, every minute . . . every second.
So, Happy Halloween!
Sure, go on and enjoy yourselves, do some trick-or-treating, eat some candy, have fun with the family. But remember, just over the hill, on the next street up, there's a nursing home. And on the inside there's some real people actually doing battle with some very scary stuff--in fact, probably the scariest stuff any of us will ever have to face.
Until next time,
billwilcox
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HALLOWEEN TREATS
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A pair dance at a festival and “borrow” a boat on the lake. A Japanese ghost story.
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There's still time to get those scary stories done and entered!
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DEAD Letters
A.T.B: It'sWhatWeDo 
Comments:
Dead Letters, Squeals, Moans, and Wretched Weather...yours is fast becoming my guilty pleasure newsletter, I must say. How wicked, indeed. I'd meant to respond to "killing your darlings" but work has been merciless. It's good to see it hit home with others as well. And now we know how to send Adriana into fits, too. *stocks up on Writer's Digest* Regarding Stephen King, though...I have to say I rather like his logomaniacal attention to setting, even if the vast majority is the same little state; he pays homage to his home, and I can dig that. =)
Best always and thanks for another great NL!
~A.T.B.
BIG BAD WOLF is Howling  encourages all to read:
"Monster Justice"
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Horror/Scary: October 20, 2010 Issue [#4024]
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