Every once in a while I get into a silly mood for my podcast. I was under a deadline the other week, and I wanted to write a scary horror tale for Halloween that would curl your toes and make you want to run and hide. Sorry, somehow my brain misunterstood what I wanted to type, and this amusing story type out from the ends of my fingers on the keyboard. LOL

If you would like to hear a reading of it by me in my podcast the link is at the bottom of the story. Thank you for putting up with my sillyness today, Joe.

Always on Halloween, the Ghoul Scouts deliver their ladyfinger cookies to those little monsters who pay the price it seems.

Episode 33 Ghoul Scout Cookies

We were sitting at home watching horror movies this Halloween night. At first, we heard a scratching sound, then a knocking on our front door. Being little ghouls, we did not respond; instead, we hid behind our sofa fearing the bump in the night, which was now at our front door.

We all cried out in unison, "What if there is an angry mob outside, or monster demon wanting to hurt us so badly. Or maybe its a werewolf scratching on our door wanting to shred us completely. Oh my!"

"Wait! Perhaps it is no one at all, maybe it's a tree branch scraping and knocking against our door in the wind."

The rattling and tapping turned into loud pounding on our front door. We shivered some more as everyone in the house now awoke.

Papa came running downstairs, heading for our front door. As he grabbed the handle, we all screamed, "Don't open the door! It's a demon come to dement us all.

Braver than us, he unbolted the door and turned the doorknob to find out what was out there now bashing against our front door. Forgetting to undo the chain latch, the door banged to a halt an inch from his drooling face. A creepy hand shoved a squished up box between door and door frame before its owner ran off into this Halloween night.

Father gingerly picked up the crumpled box to find out what was within. Upon opening it, he grimaced, "Disgusting! There are only eight ladyfingers!" he exclaimed, "Horrible! I ordered ten fingers, and there's not even a thumb inside."

Then nibbling the tip of one red-painted fingernail, he asked, "Does anyone want a ladyfinger, my little ghouls?"

We all jumped out and grabbed one, then begged for more of course.

He sighed then slyly grinned, "I guess the take out did not work out so well, this night?"

We all nodded in agreement as he said, "I guess I'll have to pick up some myself. I'll be back with more in a short while." As he headed out the door to hunt down more ladyfingers, we heard him say, "I wonder if that Ghoul Scout is still in the neighbourhood, it had some tasty looking ladyfingers?"

https://shortstorypodcast.com/short-story-podcast-episode-33-ghoul-scout-cookies/

(from my poetry book, Valentine's Day Love Poems)

Dry leaves of summer, once all green, suddenly turning

Gently gilding the edges of the greenest, green trees.

These first leaves of autumn begin a journey unending,

Striking yellows surrounded by flocks of green leaves.

The hot breath of the last summer breeze fades away,

Signaling a change in the warm winds of Love’s seasons.

Our Love lingers on beneath these trees, here to stay,

Seeking more and more September leaves, as reasons.

Slowly each day surrounds us in blankets of colors,

A yearning for yellows to reds gives us Love’s pigments.

Clear skies at night give us a sight as we walk, so stellar.

Stars cross the night skies in Love’s constant regiments.

Orion begins to greet us on our evening walks, forever,

As we pass beneath brightly, colored, leaves together.

https://shortstorypodcast.com

Hi Everyone,

I'm sharing another short story with you today, from my Short Story Podcast. Where you hear a fast-paced short story and get a quick writing tip afterward. Here’s a summer murder mystery for you to enjoy. There’s nothing like going to a baseball game at the ballpark you might even see one team get murdered at-bat.

Detective Silas Straight stood over the dead pitcher, “Alright, ump, one more time, what did you see?”

The home plate umpire replied, “It was a fastball. All I heard was the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd. As the baseball sped by the pitcher’s head, he collapsed. I thought he was hit by the ball even though it flew straight into the second base man’s glove.

I was the first to get to him. Turning him over, I saw his bloody chest with the bullet hole in it. I figure he must have been shot when the ball was hit or while the crowd was cheering to cover up the sound of the gun.”

Detective Straight crouched down, noticing the pitcher’s bruised temple where the ball struck him. The detective carefully examined what looked like scorch marks around the bloody bullet hole. Thoughtfully, he asked, “Ump, did anyone else come near the pitcher beside you?”

Sweating profusely, the umpire swore, “I swear, I kept everyone back, no one else did.”

Straight, excused himself, stepped off the mound to consult with his colleagues. Returning, he looked the umpire in the eyes and asked, “Why did you kill him?”

Shocked at the accusation, the umpire started to slid his right hand towards his ball pouch when two officers grabbed both his arms. They cuffed his hands behind his back.

As he struggled to get free, his baseball’s flew out of the ball pouch tied to his waist; along with a small gun onto the pitcher’s mound. “How? How did you know it was me?” He screamed at Detective Straight.

Detective Straight coldly looked the umpire in the eyes, explaining, “I’ll give you an instant replay:

“Strike one, the bruise on his forehead knocked the pitcher out.

“Strike two, burn marks around the bullet hole means you pressed the barrel of the gun against the pitcher’s chest to muffle the shot.

“Strike three, you would not let anyone else near the body. You were trying to cover up your murder.

“Therefore, you are the only one who could have killed the pitcher.”

Detective Straight paused, then yelled, “You’re Out! You’re Under Arrest!.”

The umpire stopped struggling and collapsed into the arms of the law.

The End

I hope you enjoyed this story, you can hear stories more at

https://shortstorypodcast.com

We sat together on the same bench in the rose-covered gazebo, not really knowing about kissing. My little finger embraced her little finger on the wooden bench. We sat there holding fingers for the longest time.

Not speaking just sitting, soon we were holding hands, both blushing, excited about holding hands for the first time. Our hearts were pounding, neither of us knowing what to do next. We both drew in a deep breath and exhaled as we closed our eyes savouring the moment.

Something startled us, was it a car starting in the driveway, or a screen door slamming on the porch. Our time in the gazebo would soon be over. Staring at each other, it was now or never. We kissed our first kiss. The longest kiss we ever kissed because our braces locked as we sat there emprisoned by a kiss.

https://shortstorypodcast.com

There's nothing like going to a baseball game at the ballpark you might even see one team get murdered at-bat.

Detective Silas Straight stood over the dead pitcher, "Alright, ump, one more time, what did you see?"

The home plate umpire replied, "It was a fastball. All I heard was the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd. As the baseball sped by the pitcher's head, he collapsed. I thought he was hit by the ball even though it flew straight into the second base man's glove.

I was the first to get to him. Turning him over, I saw his bloody chest with the bullet hole in it. I figure he must have been shot when the ball was hit or while the crowd was cheering to cover up the sound of the gun."

Detective Straight crouched down, noticing the pitcher's bruised temple where the ball struck him. The detective carefully examined what looked like scorch marks around the bloody bullet hole. Thoughtfully, he asked, "Ump, did anyone else come near the pitcher beside you?"

Sweating profusely, the umpire swore, "I swear, I kept everyone back, no one else did."

Straight, excused himself, stepped off the mound to consult with his colleagues. Returning, he looked the umpire in the eyes and asked, "Why did you kill him?"

Shocked at the accusation, the umpire started to slid his right hand towards his ball pouch when two officers grabbed both his arms. They cuffed his hands behind his back.

As he struggled to get free, his baseball's flew out of the ball pouch tied to his waist; along with a small gun onto the pitcher's mound. "How? How did you know it was me?" He screamed at Detective Straight.

Detective Straight coldly looked the umpire in the eyes, explaining, "I'll give you an instant replay:

"Strike one, the bruise on his forehead knocked the pitcher out.

"Strike two, burn marks around the bullet hole means you pressed the barrel of the gun against the pitcher's chest to muffle the shot.

"Strike three, you would not let anyone else near the body. You were trying to cover up your murder.

"Therefore, you are the only one who could have killed the pitcher."

Detective Straight paused, then yelled, "You're Out! You're Under Arrest!."

The umpire stopped struggling and collapsed into the arms of the law.

The End

https://shortstorypodcast.com

https://shortstorypodcast.com/short-story-podcast-episode-29-instant-replay/

copyright 2019 JB Wocoski

(from episode 28 of my short story podcast)

We all have free will. Nobody was born with instructions tattooed onto their foreheads or even a user manual in hand. As a result, our lives somewhat fluid and forgetful. Someday our world will end, but we do not know how or who will end it.

Well, what if that angel or demon who is supposed to start it all doesn't show up for the Apocalypse?

Archangel Gabriel, one of the oldest angels alive, stood there trying to remember what he forgot to bring to the plains of Armageddon.

He reread the short text message on his smartphone, "Gabrial be at Armageddon on time and don't blow it like you did at the Great Flood."

He thought about the soothing music he played for Noah as the animals boarded the ark. "That's it, my trumpet! I forgot my Trumpet!"

Gabriel yelled out loud, "I'm supposed to be blowing my trumpet to start it all." So, he popped out of there and headed home to find his trumpet.

All of the Angels and Demons milled around disorganised on the plain of Armageddon waiting for something to happen. Archangel Michael yelled, "Alright everyone! Your attention, please! Come on! Line up to face off for the Great Battle! That's Right! I said Great Battle and not flood this time!"

He looked around trying to find someone, then yelled "Angels on the right! Demons on the left! That's better! Come on, show some pride! Stop slouching! I want to see nice straight rows this time, not like last time the great flood. Ok, that should do it!"

He looked around but could not find Archangel Gabriel, "Wait a minute, where's Gabriel?"

A young angel in the ranks yelled, "I overheard him say he was going home to get his trumpet!"

Michael clenched his fists and exclaimed, "Not again! Alright, everyone, we will try for the Apocalypse again tomorrow!"

Muttering to himself, "Unbelievable, every time we try to get this over with something else postpones it. Well, in the great scheme of it all, I guess one more day won't hurt. Ok, everyone take five until Gabriel gets back. That's Right! Get some coffee! You! That's right, you two over there stop arguing. Now break it up, until Gabrial blows his trumpet! Remember, those who stand and wait also serve. There that's better. Play nice until he gets back with his trumpet. We have all eternity to get this right."

If you read this today, I guess, it's still not yet the end - LOL.

https://shortstorypodcast.com

https://youtu.be/IIR8yS5teII

copyright 2019 JB Wocoski

Doctor, lawyer, Indian chef, rich man, poor man, beggarman, thief think about all the occupations you failed at. Once you run out of jobs, there will be one job left for you. Everyone will fear and hide from your sight the day you start as the world's grim reaper.

https://shortstorypodcast.com

Did you ever have a romance go sour, and you just had to take a long walk, but no matter what you did, it was a disaster the rest of the day?

Well, here's a worst-case scenario:

It was a hot August evening when Jacob broke up with Shelly, so, he headed down to the beach to walk alone on the long stretch of open sands. He missed not wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they use to walk here.

Now, he could only feel the warm saltwater between his toes. The gulls were unusually quiet this low tide, in fact, none were hunting for crabs or tasty bits of fish that may have washed up on the beach.

He got an odd prickly disconcerting feeling on the back of his neck like someone, or something was near him. Pausing his walk ankle-deep in the ebb tide, he gingerly looked around, but no one was there. Unable to shake the feeling off, he quickly hurried up his pace heading back to his SUV when he tripped and stumbled as something wrapped around his ankle in the shallow tide, panicking he fell.

Shelly was an early morning jogger, she saw the gulls circling above. Something was waving in the fast-moving roughness of the incoming tide. As she got closer to it, she realized it was a man's body tangled in seaweed. His arm flopped back and forth above the waves as if beckoning for her to join him.

Her eyes widened when she realized it was Jacob. Gasping in horror, she ran away in panic, never to return to his arms again.

The End

If you would like to hear this story read by me then please visit my

https://shortstorypodcast.com

There was an old lady who lived in a shoe.

She spotted a hole in the sole of her shoe.

She cried out her window, "I need some new sole!"

Soon Bo Diddley showed up and started to sing

the sweetest soul music he could ever conceive.

Sadly, she was not pleased that it did not fill her needs.

Bo Diddley got discouraged, stopped, and left early,

saying I've got to get a better gig than to sing to a sole.

http://shortstorypodcast.com