J. Neira

A 15 year old boy with autism went missing earlier this week

He was selling fruit with his family in Springbranch when he disappeared

They filed a missing person’s report & begged the public to help find him

Turns out he was in a Houston ICE detention facility

They kidnapped a disabled child!

Always. ❤️

Thank you for hosting! 🖤

"The moment you entered the graveyard, the scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears. Now, your hands are frozen onto your pickaxe, the tool stuck in the noxious earth.

"Your heartbeat quickens. You can feel frosty, dagger-sharp nails sinking into your neck."

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"Here lies Goopy Todd, who lived as he died." #horrorwriterschat

"From every coffin and tomb,
Dance out your greatest fears,
And like Vincent Price said,
They're closing in to seal your room!"
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“The moment you entered the graveyard, the scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears.

Scratched, cracked rock betray their years.

How long have I been here, I wonder.

The stones know, waiting to tear me asunder."

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The moment you entered the graveyard, the scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears

And then your pants fell down and the dead laughed hard enough to summon tears!

And yet you persisted, walking to your fate, skirts gathered in one pale hand. Delivering yourself to the monster at the appointed time to save your family, little knowing that you were dooming each generation to carry forward the curse #horrorwriterschat

The moment you entered the graveyard, the scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears. Your heart hammered your ribcage as you sprinted toward the tomb perched at the top of the hill. No!

A heavy mist drifted from the vault, and you sank to your knees. Too late.

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"Your arms twitch above your head, your legs swaying to an invisible beat of ghoulish symphony.

Now, you join us in dance. Dance Macabre."

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#horrorwriterschat This was followed by my tears as the flames seared my ears and the cheers that followed as the gears churned cuing the burn that turned… well, it fucking sucked to be honest.

Be it rotten flesh or dusty bones against thy stones, doesn't matter, illusions shatter, once you see shadows dancing to a ghostly tune you've never heard, and yet, you have, for it was always going to play for you, for us, one day, the song plays for all of us, dust to dust.

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Q4: #HorrorWritersChat
“The moment you entered the graveyard, the scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears.”

“You’re not a king of yellow but a Xanthic bard, and only stories shall you tell for the rest of all years.”

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You weren't sure where the sound came from at first; not until it continued enough to lure you to a magnificent tomb. Intricate statues carved into the structure stared at you with lifeless, rough eyes, one reaching out. The last thing you remember is taking its hand.

The moment you entered the graveyard,
the scrape of ancient stone
shadowed your ears.
Rest sweet child,
as No One slips into your soul,
and Nothing waits to sip your tears…

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Q4

…You turn to leave, only to find that the gate is missing and the graveyard extends to infinity in all directions.

The stone thumps onto the thick, overgrown grass.

“You never visit me anymore,” the crone wines.

“Now you’ll stay with your grandmother FOREVER!”

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#HorrorWritersChat And as I saw the first of the graves being out of with rotting hands of those hungry for the living, My friends and I were like "Fuck this shit", got in our car and left the graveyard in our mirror view of rear.

Rhyme? Oh Christ…

The moment you entered the graveyard,
The scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears,
For the lure of an elegantly talented bard,
Washed away all your past and future fears…

That’s all I have in this short space.

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Love it. ❤️ 😂

"The moment you entered the graveyard," the skeleton said, "The scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears."

"What'd you put in my ears?!" Martin slapped at his head. "Don't be putting shit in my ears!"

"No. It was poetic! I was saying--"

"Not cool messing with a guy's ears."
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It depends on the ghost.

Just a spooky thing that makes you nervous: house, preferably a spare room.

A lonely spirit with depression: abandoned places that should bring joy — theater, cinema, an empty town.

Scary ghosts: Marching down Main Street, big as a house and hungry.

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I've never been an urban explorer, as I live pretty rural, but run-down, old, disused buildings intrigue me. The stories they held, and the stories they now tell.

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Knowing a few people that are not well at the moment, Hospitals can be weird places, especially at night when you hear nurses walking up and down the corridors creating shadows under the door, stopping outside your room to read your chart, (At least I hope that's who it is).

Q2:

I use a lot of villages, so I often wonder if my strain would be considered folk horror. There’s a lot of cosmic comeuppance and justice debuted themes thinking back on it.

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Big, historic houses and haunted prisons are my favorite places to haunt! And hunt. I do a lot of ghost hunting in those sorts of locations.
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Well, I’m always cheering for the vengeful ghost ladies who unleash their wrath upon their slimy husbands/lovers.

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I struggled with this question...
Mostly because GIMME ALL THE GHOSTS...those made from old traditions and stories and those created from new fears and new ways of thinking.
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I take elements of nature and turn them into shade, a theatre of shadows, a landscape layered over another, old gods and goddesses drifting into the present, ancestors returning but still held by the land.
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Your description of the Symposium sounds like a ghostly jazz dance club. 🕺

While I love ghostly folklore alone, I like a combination of folklore and the writer's imagination. Things won't be predictable. I also like non-European ghosts. They're fascinating.