2022 Creativity Project – April 3

Scares Out There

My dad worked on the equipment which compacted the waste that came into the landfill adjacent to one of the big metropolitan cemeteries. I accompanied him to work often.

I never claim to understand my life; I have, with some effort, come to accept most of it.

There were always odd interactions with machines. Most of them drew scant attention because they happened with other people present. These things are still a blight upon my life and have grown worse with the advent of technology.

The first time one of the dozers parked on the cemetery access lane cranked itself up as I walked by was a bit unnerving. The more times it happened, the less it could be explained as unrelated to my presence.

At the time, I wondered if some friendly residents were protesting my driving in the cemetery as I learned how. I never ran off the lanes or drove exceedingly fast, avoiding all processions. If a tent was over an open grave, I did not go near that area. So, I think it improbable I was disturbing anyone’s peace.

The colossal mausoleum, which looked like a gothic castle, fascinated me. I wanted to see how brave I was. I asked the caretaker of the building if a few friends and I could come about an hour before dark and stay until 3 am. I never dreamed he would say, “Why not? Just don’t break anything or leave any trash.”

I was the only girl in our Dungeons & Dragons group, so securing this little adventure stood to raise my cred. The thing I never expressed to anyone beforehand was that I was beyond terrified. This was when I was sixteen, and I had been reading some superb horror and science fiction ever since I left the children’s section in the library.

I always had an overactive imagination, plus I believed in ghosts.
When the evening arrived, the guys came with machetes, drinks, and snacks. There was a staff or two in evidence, as well. I brought flashlights, enough for the group. I never met a flashlight I was unwilling, given the opportunity, to possess.

When we entered the building, it was brightly lit. No sweat, everyone was okay. I walked down a corridor and had steps following close, so I thought one of the gang was there. When I turned around to invite them up beside me, no one was in sight. Creepy.

When the lights went down, I began to notice echoes. Everything we did was mirrored in sound. The thing that almost sent my courageous friends and me scurrying for the doors; when we were perfectly quiet and motionless, we could hear ourselves moving around engaged in novel conversations.

I wanted to go up in the attic; I mean, when would I ever have others to go with me? We climbed the corkscrew stairs up to the top floor. It was strange; there were barrels and boxes stacked everywhere. Some had food labels, and some had poison labels. The government seemed to have hijacked this space for disaster supplies. I did not like the idea of foodstuffs and weapons stockpiled so nearly together.

We started back downstairs with me near the rear. I noticed the guys had made a half-circle at the bottom. When I hit the floor, the one behind me pushed me forward, and all the rest made growling sounds and reached out for me. You may understand; I screamed and left the building like a Pomeranian with its ears on fire.

I almost drove home and left them there. I could have in good conscience. It would have served them right. I made them think so; I started the Cadillac and headed for the gated entrance. They were running to catch the car. I have half a heart that functions, so I unlocked the doors and let them in.

There is another mausoleum story, but I think it is for a later date.

Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2022 Creativity Project – Feb. 10


What or who is your spark? When you call upon deep motivation, how does it manifest? Create something that symbolizes your vitality.

Painted by Me – © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan


The love-ly life-time
Is the moment creation
Sparks into places
Unimagined, leads higher
Than, there exists right to dream.

Testing the wind-blown breeze
Tasting Love in the air, free
Believing despite
A treacherous heart, doubt-filled,
A detective sorting clues.

Singing a new song
Unpublished, never performed,
Still clearing the silence
Measuring the notes, fitting words
Hallowing the Savior, Love.

Poetry pours out
Like floodwaters from downspouts,
A spider seeks sun,
A courtship began anew
Becomes brighter, lighter hue.

Taken by hand, head,
Heart – given what passes for
Music on clear page –
To devotion forever
The Lord Jesus Christ – soul saved.

Gratitude List
I am thankful:
1. I slept well.
2. The injuries from my fall seem minimal.
3. The books I am reading.
4. Having an unusual mind.
5. This life with which I have been so manifoldly blest.

I hope you found something to spark your interest at Haphazard Creative today; I would be grateful if you clicked like, followed the site, returned often, and shared this with others who might find it to their taste. Comments, ideas, suggestions, and work derived from the prompts I share are always welcome.

Hoping you have a splendid weekend and that you have gotten or made something delectable for your sweetheart. Time is, you know, running a bit short, and the stores will be putting out Halloween merchandise any day now.

All material on Haphazard Creative is © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan.