Wed, 14 Dec 2022 10:52:07 -0800WeeblyMon, 02 May 2016 04:52:58 GMThttps://www.talesfromscarefield.com/ramblings/may-01st-2016You again? What took you so long? I'm getting pretty long in the tooth to be waitin' on company. But, you're here now, I guess, so there's that. Good to see you. Come sit.

You probably forgot about poor Clara, eh? I certainly never will. I remember it all clear as glass, everyone marching into the forest for our field day. We held a rope between us, so no one wandered off or got lost. The teachers were skittish, kept a very close eye on all of us. It was dark and damp. Quiet, not a peep from the birds or frogs or bugs.

Except Clara. She kept singing, in her clear voice, and it cut through the dark like a beacon. All of us, even Ol' Pinchyface (he was a chaperon that day),  walked tall and breathed easier hearing her. When we stopped for lunch next to Black Swamp Lake, we were even smiling.

Until something moved in the brush...


]]>Mon, 08 Dec 2014 18:00:01 GMThttps://www.talesfromscarefield.com/ramblings/you-againSo you're back. Can't say I'm surprised; you look like you enjoy a good yarn. Well, come have a seat then, since you won't leave me be.

What's that? Clara? Oh yes, poor Clara. Went to school with her, way back in the day. She was a nice girl, very smart. Had curly brown hair and big blue eyes. She loved to build castles out of blocks, and count as high as she could, but most of all she loved to sing. She sang all through the day: on the bus, in the cafeteria, sometimes even in class. 


But no one ever told her to stop, not even Ol' Pinchyface the Janitor (as we called him), because she had the most beautiful voice you ever heard. No matter what you were doin', you'd stop to listen to her sing and you'd always feel a little bit better.  Sometimes, you'd hum just so she'd pick up the tune and run with it. Yessir, the teachers and the other children loved Clara.


Until our field trip into the forest. That same forest there. After that...well, nothin' was the same after that.


-S.G.]]>Fri, 21 Nov 2014 08:07:49 GMThttps://www.talesfromscarefield.com/ramblings/get-off-my-lawnJust mowed. Don't know why; grass never stays green, not in Scarefield...Well?! You just gonna stand there? Move! Come stand on the porch, if you're gonna.


That's better. Now, what ya doing here? Came to hear some stories, I expect. Some in town told you about me, I imagine. Been here a long time. Seen a lot of things. Things that would make your bones dance the tango under your skin. Things that would make your teeth hide behind your tonsils. Yessir, a lot of things. Like what happened to poor Clara...


...Wait! It's almost dark, and here you got me yammerin' away. It's not safe here at not. You better go home, get inside, lock your doors, and keep the lights on. You come back tomorrow, and maybe I'll tell you more about Clara. If I can stomache it. Just don't come too late.


And stay off the lawn!

-S.G.]]>