Heart-Throbbing Thursday: When The Porcelain Doll Came Home

Welcome to Heart-Throbbing Thursday when I share creepy stories that actually happened to me or the gems that I create in my head. Tonight, I will share an actual experience during my childhood that will give you chills and make your heart-throb.

I was about 9 or 10 years old when I received this brown hair pale-faced porcelain doll. It was at church, when this doll came to live with me. A lady who thought kindly of me gifted me this porcelain creepy doll being the respectful Christian girl that I was, I quietly thanked her and went about my holy day. When my family and I finally arrived home for the day it was still daytime and the doll didn’t look as scary as I initially thought. As the day slowly went into the evening, it was mandatory to get ready for bed to prepare for Monday morning. The doll, that was placed on my sister’s and I dresser when we arrived home, was carefully placed by the foot of my bed on the bookshelf safely hiding her creepy glass eyes. I climbed into bed anticipating a restful sleep. All tucked in I used to put my feet out at the edge of the bed to better sleep. It wasn’t until the middle of the night when I started to feel strange, I sluggishly got up and went to the bathroom came back and positioned myself to sleep the same way I always have, as I was about to enter the REM sleep cycle I felt a slight tug on my foot, I quickly jolted out of my blankets. Confused, I thought it could have been my sister but she was sleeping on the opposite wall. Trying to take deep breaths to calm myself down, I decided I was just imagining things and decided to position myself back in my comfortable spot. It couldn’t have been 5 minutes later my feet were jerked to the foot of my bed. Frightened, I clammed up and curled into a ball, tightened the blankets over my head and patiently waited to fall asleep. Morning came, and I carefully looked over the foot of my bed to examine the area where my doll rested. I found nothing strange so I moved on forgetting about the previous night until nighttime arrived and I became more scared when it was time to go to sleep. Over the course of a week, I experienced creepy events like my feet being tickled, being pulled again, struggling to be free from the hands at the edge of my bed. Finally, I was tired of the restless nights and I decided to rid myself of this doll. Within my house, I found a pillowcase I shoved the creepy doll in it and smashed it against the wall. I didn’t want anyone to know what I experienced, so I threw the doll in the back right corner of the top shelf in the closet and closed the door. After that, I never had those horrific experiences ever again, well, with that doll. I truly believe that there was a spirit of a child trapped or an evil spirit trying to bring fear in my life, within the porcelain doll. The moral of the story, don’t accept “gifts” from strangers when you don’t the history or the spirits that are attached.

Stay tuned for next Thursday’s heart throb!

It Happens At Nightfall

Welcome to Heart-Throbbing Thursday where I share a creepy story in the spirit of Halloween. Tonight, I will be sharing a story based on true events. A story that will leave you with goosebumps..

After the horrifying experience I witnessed the night before, paranormal activity was starting to occur every night for a month straight with only me witnessing it. I anxiously asked my whole family that resided in the same house as me, if they experienced anything peculiar at night and they all declined. I crept through each day in fear of what nightfall may bring. Each night, I experienced something unusual and creepy. I would feel fingers crawling on me, or my leg being pulled, creepy noises or horrifying figures in the corner of my shared room. Every morning, I would wake up exhausted and absolutely petrified of what occurred the nights prior. I felt like a zombie dragging through the day to only meet my doom at night. I persistently asked God to protect me, but apparently I was meant to experience these happenings because God didn’t grant my wish. I felt cursed, haunted and set apart from reality. Nothing or no one could save me from having this constant nightmare. I was miserable and felt the need to isolate myself from everyone because I was different. I was the secret witch of the family. I was officially alone in this, and frightened. I question during the day how long will this last? When will I be rescued from this dark hell that I am living when the sun goes down? I thought I found redemption when I didn’t experience anything paranormal for a week, until the 8th night, when I witnessed the most malevolent, wicked and corrupt being that I have ever seen…..

Tune in next Thursday for what happens next….

Moody Monday: My Identity, My Culture

Welcome to Moody Monday, where my mood dictates what I write. Today, I am sharing a think piece that I wrote about my natural hair. For a big chunk of my life, I hated how I looked, especially my mane. It took me years to actually practice self-love and to accept all aspects of myself, including my hair.

Growing up black in the 90s, you were conditioned to succumb to the European social standards and almost forced to believe that having straight relaxed hair was the way to be fully accepted by all society. Yet, with this insatiable compromise came another form of ridicule, coming in close contact with water. If your hair was relaxed, it’s almost impossible to be near pools, rain or even sprinklers freely without the restraint of relaxed hair. White friends wouldn’t fully understand this dreaded dilemma and would often ridicule black friends and label them high maintenance because the relaxed hair would become ruined if drenched with water. Grease! Having relaxed hair caused the scalp to become dry which required hair grease (preferably blue magic) and if not managed properly it could stain everything. In order to support this relaxed hair, a bonnet at night was mandatory to wear, if not worn, negative consequences would be revealed in the morning. Ultimately, there has been this silent shame to having relaxed hair because of restrictions, not having the “good” hair that white people or other ethnic groups possess. To keep a good job “acceptable” hairstyles were mandatory within the black community. There were even examples presented at job sites displaying white hairstyles like blonde straight hair and banning black hairstyles such as braids or Afros. Present day, it has still been a struggle for the black community to become comfortable in their skin and accept their identity. Having natural hair for a black person is deemed in society as ugly, nappy and unkempt. But why? Why is the natural hair that grows out of a black person’s head not acceptable and other ethnic groups are? Why does this hair texture bring shame? In Africa, before slavery even took place, a black person’s hair represented the tribe they came from and who they truly were. It gave them purpose and identity. In Africa, warriors and kings had cornrows. During slavery, cornrows and braids was the fashion as a map to finally escape their masters’ property. Black natural hairstyles have such a rich deep culture that it should no longer be held hostage in the shadows, but rather embraced and celebrated. Black natural hair is unique and versatile, the texture has such variety. By understanding the history behind black natural hair, I, as a black woman, am no longer ashamed to wear my kinky curly hair. I embrace, love and take care of it. The rain is no longer my enemy but my loving, close friend. I refuse to succumb to European social standards, but will fully welcome the standards of my sacrificing ancestors, which is natural, free and proud. Oppression and ridicule is no longer a lingering fear of mine but rather a breakthrough. My natural hair, my mane, my glory is my true identity and sets me apart and makes me recognized and my beauty revealed. I am free and invincible with my natural hair, as my identity, my culture.

The Night The Witches Cackled

Tonight I will be sharing a horribly true story of the time I heard those damned witches in my ear….

I was 13, and the paranormal happenings weren’t occurring as much and I was finally starting to feel some sort of normal. Well, until the day I saw a scary movie. I watched it with my sister in our room when it was dark. I don’t even remember what the movie was about or what it was called. I only remember how it made me feel, dreadful. I remember I didn’t want to turn off the tv to go to sleep. I was anxious for no reason. As I was falling asleep I felt dark energy surrounding my bed giving me the most unsettling feeling that I could ever have. The next morning I was surprised that I didn’t have any nightmares. The following night when I was about to go to sleep I felt the same unsettling feeling I felt the night before that disappeared as soon as I was completely asleep. I woke up the next day and still didn’t have any nightmares, shrugged it off and assumed I was spared. But the third night, the unsettling feeling became stronger, darker and heavier and this time I couldn’t fall asleep so easily. I tossed and turned, fell asleep briefly but woke up abruptly, in panic, until about 3 am, suddenly I felt terrified. I began to hear yelling in the streets at the back of my house and it became louder as each second passed. My body started to shake as the noise that eventually turned into to evil laughter like witches would have, in the streets at the back of my house. Laughter grew louder and louder until it became too freakishly close that it felt like they were right next to me. I quivered as my legs and body began to rise just slightly above my bed and was quickly dropped. I couldn’t even scream for help because of the fear that overcame me. Some how, I was able to fall asleep after that haunting experience, I woke up and was relieved that it was morning. I knew from then on that I was different and not like other girls my age.

Tune in next Thursday for your heart to be throbbed!

Moody Monday: Dark Shine

Welcome lovelies to Moody Monday where I allow my mood to dictate what I share. Today, I will be sharing another poem! This poem inspired me to not give up, regardless of the naysayers. I hope this brings inspiration to you as well.

Dark Shine

I woke up broken. All that was left of me was stolen, chosen for someone else. Used and discreetly abused, nobody got the clue, no one supposedly knew that I wasn’t at my best. I stood out from the rest, they were jealous, jealous for the glow that was in my chest. They saw my beautiful mess and they were reluctantly impressed. I put them to the test with my dark, fear took over them and they became restless, and their tongue, sharp. However, I refuse to harp on the recent past. I am from the present. Here, I am sitting alone, cold and unknown with a fire raging from within. Who I am is apparently a sin and they mustn’t see me win. Bets were cast to see me give in. That could never happen. My soul is a warrior and fortress that can withstand anything, whatever life sends. I was born for this.

Tune in next Monday to find out what my mood instructs me to share!

Moody Monday: The Strength That Was Given To Me.

Welcome to Moody Monday, mamas, where I let my mood dictate what I write. Today, I felt like sharing a poem that I have previously written. I wrote this a few months after I lost my dad.

Sitting here, waiting for my dad to appear to tell me everything’s alright and to not give up the fight, wishful thinking. Thinking back, about all of the things that I thought I lacked but just never knew I had, hard lessons. The hurt, my recent suffering is burning and wanting more of me, current events. The truth that I see right in front of me but I’m having difficulty embracing, growing pains. Being blind all this time and wanting something that was never really mine, full acceptance. Realizing that I am the hero of my story, and no longer need a male figure to save me, life -changing. Progressing even when progression was inevitable, to reach the next level to achieve the unbelievable, stubborn determination. The strength that was given to me from the pain and sweat of my ancestors’ brow, an epiphany, that I will hold onto and move in a way that will make them proud, somehow.

Stay tuned for next week’s Moody Monday

Special Announcement: Heart-Throbbing Thursdays

My favorite season has finally arrived! I thought the best way to appreciate it as well as the upcoming holiday is to share spooky stories (fictional/nonfictional) until Halloween. I have had a lot of creepy experiences and created a few more in my head. I figured I’d share some of those stories to help get you more in the mood for fall. Bring a blanket and some hot tea this coming Thursday, for a creepy story time, you will have chills and your heart will definitely throb after reading it. Stayed tuned for next Thursday!

Story Time: Tongue Stuck To The Car

Welcome to Moody Monday where I share whatever my mood dictates. Today I am in the mood to share a childhood story…

I was about 10 or 11 and it was a cold winter day, I was eager to play out in the snow and secretly eat it. We had a car in the backyard that no longer worked so I would always play on top of it. I recently watched Dumb and Dumber and was rather intrigued how Jeff Daniels got his tongue stuck to a pole and how he pulled it off with minimal damage so I was itching to experiment. It first started off with just eating the snow and ice because what kid hasn’t, then I opened my mouth with determination to see if my tongue would actually stick if I licked the ice. The first try, it was slightly stuck but I was able to pull it off successfully without any consequences, then, there was the second try. The second try I can honestly say, I became too cocky. I took a big lick and that’s when I knew, I horribly messed up. It was stuck and I began to panic. Back then, us kids didn’t have cellphones so I had to come up with a solution or freeze my buns off waiting for my family to realize that I have been outside for too long. I tried the 1…2….3 method but I was too scared to go through with it, I even tried salivating enough to melt some of the ice but since it was very cold outside that attempt was unsuccessful. Five minutes felt like an eternity, finally a built up enough courage to just rip it off like a bandaid and so I did. The pain was intense and there was blood everywhere. I took some snow to stop the blood from pouring out my mouth and to look okay before I went inside. I didn’t want any of my family members to know because they would laugh hysterically at my unwise decision. I had to turn down sour candy from my dad and of course meatloaf (childhood favorite) for dinner. Concerned, my mother wanted to know why I am turning down dinner. I simply said I don’t feel well and left it at that. I didn’t tell my family until 12 years later so I could actually laugh and not cry at the fact that I went through such excruciating pain just to be like Jeff Daniels. The moral of the story: Movies are meant for entertainment purposes only.

I hope you enjoyed this Moody Monday! Tune in for next week to find out what my mood influences me to write.

Silence Speaks Louder!

Mama, have you ever had someone attack you for your parenting or your lifestyle and you just wanted to bring more fuel to the fire and attack back? I completely understand and have felt the same. However, there is power in silence and not entertaining their opinions about you. Reacting to what others say about you only gives them control over how you feel. Why give someone control over you, when it’s your life to live. You decide as a parent and a human being to make your own decisions that shouldn’t concern others. You know what’s best for you and your family. If someone wants to be bold enough to criticize your life, remember they are irrelevant, simply disengage and leave them on read. A person can only talk for so long until they are talking to themselves. Your silence will be enough to get your point across. Silence is powerful and it’s an effective tool if someone wants to waste their breath and keep your name and what you do in their mouth. Whether it’s family, friends or just a random person, reading them their rights is not always necessary especially when it effects your peace. There is strength in silence, maybe then the naysayers will have nothing else to do but to deal with their own issues that they are avoiding. Silence speaks louder and can clap back without words. Take care of yourself mama, you are doing great!

Moody Monday Featuring: Friction

Welcome to Moody Monday, mamas. This is the day that I post based on my mood. Today, I felt like posting a poem that I wrote called Friction. This poem describes what it’s like going through it with your significant other and that no matter what you go through you can overcome anything if you both want it. Enjoy loves!

What have we become? What have we done? We are fierce, ravenous monsters on the same team watching each other bleed. We feed on hurt and create the steam that never seems to leave. Which direction are we going when we are foaming at the mouth? Our anger has taken us south and left us destitute in broad daylight. We have lost sight of what has connected us, we are slipping off of this mound of trust. It’s my fault, but I think it’s yours, but that shouldn’t really matter anymore. I swore this wouldn’t affect me, but I am horribly torn and emotionally worn, hanging on by a thread to make this work. I am waiting for a comforting response from you but I don’t want to be disappointed so I disengage and consider what I should change so I can be better for you, to comply, to aim for compromise. You are my reason to fight for the love that we created, the love that makes us sedated and satiated.