The Creation Of The Cult Of Annabelle The Haunted Doll

It was a normal day of camp.  The first day actually. Half a dozen third and forth graders were bent over a picture of my mother in her serious Twiggy years as a teenager.

mom third one

Their task was to invent a character portrait for the woman in the photo, and they were doing a typical job of it.

Already they had decided:

  • She had one neon green eye and one neon gray eye which both glowed in the dark as she slept in her red velvet bedroom.
  • She was a professional murderer who invited people over to tea only to stab them when they were not looking.
  • She ate chocolate covered crickets, blood crickets, and human finger cheese.

This is when things got weird. They also decided:

  • She lived in a decrepit, old mansion haunted by a friendly ghost named Hari Cari and an evil, haunted doll named Annabelle.

That is when things changed, though we did not know it at first.

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On Our First Loves In Writing

keats first loves in writing second attempt

John Keats was someone for whom, and around whom, my life revolved for a certain period of time in my early twenties. And because we don’t often acknowledge who we were or have been enough when we think of who we are, I want to tell our story.

By our story, I mean both I and Keats story and I and poetry’s story, for they intersect quite a bit. 

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