31 Nightmares 2018: The 30th

Those of you that were here for last year’s #31Nightmares are in for something special today. Not only do we have another returning guest, but he’s bringing a Part II of his story from last year.

You may have guessed by now I’m talking about author, Bill Friday.

Anyone giving us the puzzled look right now, get familiar:

31Nightmares 2017: The 30th • A Ghost Story (Part I)


A Second Ghost Story

By: Bill Friday

The angle of the sun was wrong.

Every year around this time, he thought it.  To his closest friends, he even said it.  The last person he ever said it to was her.

But she wasn’t here anymore, so there was no one left he cared enough about to say it to.

By the calendar, it was October the 31st.

Nobody looked at calendars anymore.  Life moved at a slower pace than calendars now.  You wore warm clothes when the weather was cold, and less than that when it got warm.  Life was simpler without calendars.  Like life was simpler without cellphones.  Sure, it took time to adjust, as the people died and there weren’t enough left alive to bury all the bodies.  Still, people made the adjustment.  The people who were left adjusted to almost everything.

He adjusted.

He never thought he would miss people.  And by people, he meant all of humanity.  And by all of humanity, he meant his friends.  And by his friends, he meant everyone who died.

You can never have enough friends, he thought, sometimes.  He didn’t always believe that.  Actually, he believed the opposite.  She believed that.  But that kind of thinking got ruined for him a couple of years before friends became obsolete.  A couple of years before the world went the way of friends.

Right before the world died.

Walking didn’t bother him anymore.  He used to drive everywhere.  He never took public transportation; never had Uber on his phone.  The last car he had was a gas guzzler, and he wouldn’t drive that very far for fear it was going to break down on the side of the freeway and cost him more to repair than the Blue Book value was worth.  He lived a lot of his old life in fear of things beyond his control.  Now that everything was beyond his control, he had little left to be afraid of.  This wasn’t a comic book where the dead got back on their feet to live a zombie version of the Keto Diet.  And for some reason, mosquitoes didn’t carry whatever killed everybody from corpse to corpse.  Time and desiccation did what disbanded municipal services could not.  The world was a swift-rotting string of roadside corpses, a lot like abandoned gas guzzlers from a time long ago.  Plants grew food, wild, for his risk-reward eating pleasure.  If he recognized it, he ate it.  If not, well, maybe he’d be another corpse for the roadside.  His call, because there was hardly anyone to be the boss of him anymore.

And none of them he would call friends.

J.

“Why do we keep having

conversations that end

in the word ‘vulva’?”

 

R.

“Why do I keep getting

offers from companies

online that pay me cash

to try their ‘vulva care’

products?”

 

J.

“Gah!  Vulva AGAIN!”

 

B.

“If men can have

beard oil, women can

have vulva cream.”

 

J.

“Stahhhhp with the

V word!”

 

B.

“I think you’re too

sensitive for this subject.”

 

C.

“Well, it is a

sensitive area.”

 

B.

“That’s because J is

sensitive about not

being able to grow a beard.”

 

J.

“And sensitive about

having to read the word

VULVA in every text.”

 

B.

“Let’s talk baseball.”

 

J.

“I’m done with vulvas.”

 

B.“You shouldn’t talk

like that.  Maybe the

vulva of your dreams

is right around the

next corner.”

 

J.

“I’m muting the

conversation now.”

 

C.

“This is a group text,

not Insta.”

 

R.

“Yeah, you’re stuck

with us.”

 

J.

“Yeah, stuck like

the plague.”

 

C.

“What does that even

mean?  ‘Stuck like

the plague?’”

 

M.

“Hey!  I just got these

texts.  When was this

conversation?”

 

B.

“Three days ago.”

 

M.

“Oh, now it’s a discussion

about time travel?”

 

J.

“How do you know this

conversation happened

three days ago?”

 

B.

“Ask any of us.”

 

C.

“Ask any of us what day

this is?”

 

B.

“Or was?”

 

R.

“I just ordered vulva

cream.”

 

J.

“GAHHHH!”

 

B.

“What do we want?

TIME TRAVEL! When do

we want it…? 

It’s IRRELEVANT!”

 

The crash of the intruder was loud enough to separate the lone man him from his dream.

It was dark.  He only slept in the dark now.  Daylight gave him no cover from the random wanderers who wouldn’t care that he didn’t have anyone to mark the hours that he closed his eyes and, in broken recollections, remembered the life that was.

It was dark.  A thin line of orange in his eyes told him where the sun was rising, and where the boot of the unwelcome visitor kicking in his front door made of wooden pallets came from.  Then there was pain in the sound of a crack in his ribs, and a thud in the side of his head.  His breath left his lungs, and he saw the sunrise no more.

 

C.

“You really ought to

get that looked at.”

R.

“I see Urgent Care

enough, thanks.”

C.

“Seriously, people die

from less.”

R.

“Is anybody hungry…

and local?”

B.

“I could eat… local.”

C.

“Anybody else?”

R.

“Pupusas?!?”

B.

“Pupusas again?  You’re

not the boss of me!”

R.

“Somebody should be.”

J.

“That word always makes

me think I’m in somebody

else’s head.”

C.

“In who else’s head

would you hear the

word ‘pupusa’?”

R.

“I would hear the word

‘pupusa’ in Mama’s head.”

J.

“That’s because she

raised you.”

B.

“With her voice in

your head.”

J.

“Now your voice is in

MY head.”

R.

“Are you saying that

I raised you?”

C.

“I have a date.”

M.

“Bring your date to

pupusas!”

J.

“Remember the last time C

brought a date to pupusas?”

B.

“He was weak.  If the

group text could scare

him…”

R.

“We weren’t scary at all.”

J.

“But he WAS scared.”

B.

“And weak.”

C.

“Hey!  That’s my date

you’re talking about!”

J.

“WAS your date.”

R.

“Now we’re your date.”

J.

“All of us?  I’m her

date?  You’re her date?”

M.

“We’ve been one big

date since the beginning.”

J.

“Who decided that?”

R.

“There needs to be an

emoji for GROUP DATE.”

 

There’s no such thing as ghosts, he regularly told himself.  If there were, she would still be speaking to him.  She’d be telling him he had to get up now, whether he liked it or not.  On some days, he liked that hers was the only voice he remembered.  On this day, his body felt as broken as his soul, and he just wanted to lie there with his eyes closed, waiting for the end to come.  But the end was more fickle than he told himself she had ever been.

R.

“Are you up?”

B.

“Who’s asking?”

R.

“Don’t be crazy.”

B.

“Yeah, hallucinating a

text message with a

dead girl crazy.”

R.

“Well?”

B.

“Well what, dead girl?

 

R.

“Are you up?”

B.

“You were never this persistent when you were alive.”

R.

“Get up!”

B.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

R.

“You can’t let the ghost

find you like this.”

B.

“There’s no such thing

as ghosts.”

R.

“Oh, yeah?  I said

GET UP!”

 

The pain in three broken ribs woke him from concussion sleep.  The sun was up and not helping the throb behind his eyes.  A brief look around told him that the wooden pallets he had made shelter from were gone, along with his gear.  No pack, no food, no booze, and definitely no water.  Whenever it was that he got mule-kicked to sleep, it could’ve been days by now, didn’t matter anymore, it was all gone.

He laid his head back down and wished himself never to wake up again.

There was a ghost.

He knew he was a ghost because, after a lifetime of seeing no need at all for god or the church, he lived behind a church, on the edge of a graveyard – how ironic on so many levels, being a ghost because… graveyard, and an atheist ghost because… church – but they let him stay as the church folk looked right through him like the rest of the dying did.  And they allowed him to eat left-overs from the shiny dumpster next to the boarded-up back door.  He even slept behind it when the wind blew extra cold some nights, and his overflowing morning newspapers couldn’t seem to keep the wind out of his ghost-self bones. 

Like on this night.

Because this is what ghosts do.

But in a world where everyone is dead, do the ghosts even matter?

R.

“He’s on his way. 

Be ready for him. 

He knows my name,

because we talked.”

B.

“Is there anyone you

won’t talk to?

R.

“Very funny.”

B.

“I guess some things

never change.”

R.

“You have.”

B.

“How would you know? 

You’re dead.”

R.

“That was rude.  And wrong. 

The living don’t really

die, you know?”

B.

“Says the dead girl.”

R.

“Just be ready.  I’ll

be around when you need me.”

B.

“Just like always.”

R.

“Just don’t follow anyone

else into the dark.”

 

He opened his eyes.

 

© Copyright 2018 William s. Friday


This has been

Day 30

of

 

31 Nightmares 2018: The 12th

Over the past few years of doing this event, I’ve had to pleasure of coming into contact with a whole new world of horror lovers and creators.

Some of those wonderful people and their creations certainly deserve mentioning today. When you get a moment, do check some of these out!

Nightmarish Conjurings

Website: nightmarishconjurings.com

Twitter: @Nightmar1sh

Instagram: @nightmarishconjurings

Nightmarish Conjurings is a pleasure to follow across platforms. They update often and stand out from the crowd. Check them out to see what we’re yapping about!


12 Nights of Horror

Website: 12nightsofhorror.com

Twitter: @12nighthorror

Instagram: @12nightsofhorror/

Another group of original creators that is past of an even larger network of original creators tied to all things horror.


Slasher Radio

Website: slasherradio.com

Twitter: @SlasherRadio

The Slasher Radio Podcast also has a great interview from a few months back with the legendary Mr. Tony Todd that I highly recommend listening to when you have a good 30mins to spare.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/slasher-radio-podcast/id1292143626?mt=2&i=1000413617390

They are also in the network of some of the lovely people mentioned earlier.

I first found out about Slasher Radio through my own network. We later subscribed to their podcast on iTunes and haven’t regretted it since.


OddNMacabre – Sean Kaen

Website: oddnmacabre.com

Twitter: @OddNMacabre

Sean is really a wonderful human being and very down to earth. He shares all sorts of fun horror bits and fun facts on his Twitter page. He really is a pleasure to follow since most of his content has this sort of group interactive feel to it that makes you feel a part of the fun. He is a multi-talent and pushes horror content all year ’round.


There are SO many more, but these are all we have time to squeeze in today. These lovely, talented individuals made the cut because they all stand out in their own ways. If you would like to be featured on CardCastles during future spotlights like this one, hit up our Contact page and follow the prompts.


This has been

Day 12

of

31 Nightmares 2018: The 4th

On the 1st during our opener, we highlighted Kevin Yagher and his work in special effects as well as his gorgeous showcasing of some that work online.

Today we’d like to highlight someone in that same realm with an equal number of impressive accomplishments and the skills to match.

Mark Shostrom is the man I’m referring to.

& He also has a really amazing page linked below.

https://www.instagram.com/markshostrom/

I’ve been like a small child in a room full of bright colors ever since I found Mark online. He shares some truly wonderful behind-the-scenes magic on a pretty regular basis. He’s worked on a good number of all the movies I’ve ever loved as well.

View this post on Instagram

Evil Dead II (1987). My in-progress rough sculpture for Henrietta’s second look, along with one of the finished heads. The initial sculpture block-out was quite symmetrical, then Sam came out for a look and suggested making it a bit lopsided. The only part I couldn’t move was the eyeball placement, otherwise #DaveKindlon’s eye animatronics would not work. I put in a few plastic teeth I had handy for placement, then later sculpted big gnarly ones. Pictured is a stunt head made of Poly Tech 1016, a really tough foam like a soccer ball that Bruce and everyone could kick the shit out of, slam the cellar door on, etc. We also made an animatronic one for the ‘hush little baby’ bit, and #BryantTausek & I made two gelatin heads for Bruce’s shotgun finale. @nealkennemore’s mom Melinda Kennemore made all the Henrietta wigs, including for the Pee-wee head. Incidentally, we called this the Pee-wee Head after Large Marge in Pee-wee’s Big Adventure since the stop-motion by Rick Catizone was going for a similar popping out effect. #markshostrom #EvilDead2 #EvilDeadII #80shorror #BehindTheScenes #FxMakeup #SFX #spfxmakeup #bts #horrorfilms #horrorhistory #horrormovies #practicaleffects #specialeffects #specialmakeupeffects #culthorror #deadbydawn #illswallowyoursoul #someonesinmyfruitcellar #henrietta #cometohenrietta #bookofthedead #deadite #necronomicon #monstersculpture #peeweehead #monsters #moviemonsters

A post shared by Mark Shostrom (@markshostrom) on

This is one of my favorite bits of work he’s shared.

There is so much more, though! If you’re on Instagram, please consider giving him a follow. He’s really a treasure and so is his art.


This has been

Day 4

of

31 Nightmares 2018: The 1st

It’s been three years now since we first began this series. Now, becoming a sort of tradition backed by horror-loving demand,

31 Nightmares

has returned.


When we first started this madness in 2015, we did so in tribute to man whose life has touched so many in their respective fields. That man is Mr. Wes Craven, and you can read about how this series got its start here. Since then, it has grown into much more—a gathering of us horror heads, if you will.

For now, my Snapping Turtle family would simply like to welcome you here. Don’t forget! CardCastles Terms apply here during this event as well as across all social media accounts. We’ve got some guests coming up while we waltz through each day and night. Please be kind. We don’t want to have to feed you to our guards.

Love,

Daydreams


If you are into the world of special effects like we are here at home, there is someone I highly recommend following that we haven’t mentioned before.

His name is Kevin Yagher

and his Instagram account can be found below.

https://www.instagram.com/yagherfx/

I had already been familiar with Kevin’s work from hearing his name floated around horror circles. What I didn’t know was the sheer number of things Mr. Yagher has worked on. If you do a little digging, you’ll find out this man’s trail of past work is seriously impressive.

One of the highlights worth mentioning is recently Kevin started selling some of his work as well:

How cool is that?


This has been Day 1

of

Guest Spots for #31Nightmares 2018 Open Today!

If you follow CardCastles and/or Snapping Turtle Arts on social media then you know we are yet again resurrecting the October tradition here of #31Nightmares.

Since we are already planning for October’s events now in August, it’s only right we picked today to launch the guest slot openings and guest submission forms.

If you are interested in being one of our guests during this year’s 31Nightmares,

Send in your submission form below.

31 Nightmares Tips & Guidelines

  • Anything horror-related
  • Presentations can be in written, photo, art, video, or music/audio format
  • *Extra points if it’s inspired by a nightmare!
  • CardCastles Terms in effect and apply during this event
  • Send in any & all links you would like to be featured like your personal website, blog, or social media accounts.
  • 31Nightmares posts automatically get shared out to CardCastles social accounts so your submission may get increased traffic, meaning free promotion for you!
  • Tributes to horror legends and horror creators also very welcome.
  • Most importantly, have fun with it.
  • There are a limited number of slots & they fill up quickly so try to get these in soon!

 

We look forward to this event later this October with you all and much more this 2018.

-Daydreams

Daydreams Diary: Cold Air

—• Cold Air •—

[ October 12th, 2017 9:47PM ]

I wanted to explain things to you.

It’s been so long.

There’s so much to explain.

I wanted to write about all the crap going on today.

I was going to call it “The Silencing of Rose McGowan” and it would’ve been great.

But I don’t have a lot of that edgy shit in me right now. & Well, frankly, you don’t care anyway.

I’ve been told to

keep the politics out of it.”

Hell, that was even my rule here once. Maybe that’s where I fucked up.

I need to drop the “Daydreams” because I’ve been “out of character” for over two years now.

But I still don’t feel 100% comfortable putting my name out there.

Maybe I should.

My head is a mess.

My health is dwindling.

I want to turn it all around but I am losing the fight.

I am losing my will to hold on.

It’s not that I’m ungrateful.

It’s that I was born with a cursed body.

And a cursed mind.

I may be of the witchy sort,

but I’m not one to undo hexes.

After all, the one that set that in motion had a reason and felt justified at the time.

No, I’d rather see how this plays out.

So let me be.

I’ll do just fine.

Just let me curl up

with this rott

in my mind.


[ September 17th, 2017 ]

—• Flashes •—

 

You wrote me today.

It was the first time in a while and it made me smile.

Even if just for a speck of reality.

 

I stumbled upon them again today.

This is the second time they were connected to someone in my network.

A new potential client or friend that I again had to let go in fear of them following the trail.

Why do I still care?

Do they even still think about me?

Am I still considered “a threat”?

I highly doubt it when he’s got 82,000 following and I’m well, me.

 

My patience was tested again today.

This was the third time in a few short weeks.

You accused my friend of baiting when he simply fought to be heard.

Why do you seek to silence us?

Will muting the messenger really snuff out the message?

Perhaps it be your guilty conscience that’s speaking louder than the both of us.

The weight of your judgement through trying times speaks volumes of your character.


[ August 30th, 2017 ]

—• Tormentors •—

Time is always uncertain.

Your words don’t stick.

They fade.

You think you’re important.

You’re not.

“Shade, shade, shade.”

You’re damn right it’s shade.

My tongue is a blade.

You are empty

And I am afraid.

So let’s make a trade.

Shall we, Adelaide?

Let’s call a spade a spade and give up this masquerade

when you know it’s just me here

and the bill must be paid.

Despite your shiny appearance,

your pockets are frayed.

 

—Daydreams

31 Nightmares 2017: The 31st

Well, horror lovers,

We’ve reached another end to our nightmares. Will they be back again? We’ll just have to wait and see. We’ve had some hurdles but it’s all been worth it.

Enjoy this short video message as a token of my appreciation.

Special Thanks

First and foremost we would like to thank our very supportive family members that helped make some of this possible. To our friends, thank you for rooting for this event even when our hearts weren’t in it at certain points this year.

To the horror lovers:

None of this would be possible without you!! You clammered for this event’s return until we gave in.

To our Twitter Family and #TWDFamily members – we appreciate your overwhelming kindness & interaction with us. You’ve helped drive some horror fans our way and we are forever grateful to all of you for that!!

To our guests Michael Patrick and Bill Friday – We thank you for your courage to share and your wonderful contributions to the event this year.

To our mentors, your advice has been priceless at times when we desperately needed it.

& Last but most certainly not least, thank all of you reading that have shared these on social media, cheered us on, and just generally made this event more fun for us to host.

We love all of you.

Snapping Turtle Arts


This has been Day 31

of


Happy Halloween!

~In Loving Memory of~

Wes Craven, Grayson Queen, John Bernecker, George Romero, and Tobe Hooper.

-And all the rest that helped pave the way.

31 Nightmares 2017: The 30th

Alright darlings,

We have another guest today ready to share something right up your alley. Today we welcome author Bill Friday from BillFriday.com. Some of you may remember Bill from my time over at Stories. Others already know him. Some of you are new to Bill completely and those of you that might be are in for a treat.

As we enter this eve of Hallow’s Eve, that some may call “Mischief Night” or the foreboding, even older nickname, “Devil’s Night,” we will take one last nightmarish journey with our guest before our closing day, tomorrow.

This theme is dark and poetic. We hope you enjoy.

 

  • Snapping Turtle Arts

​​​​​A Ghost Story

By: Bill Friday

Not Forgotten

 

I am a ghost.

I, in the beginning of my time here on this plane of existence, I could not understand what it was to be invisible to the world and those living in it, as I still thought myself a part of the world that I still saw before me. I moved, I thought, I felt everything as I did before my transformation. Little seemed to change from one moment to the next. I was me, and the world was the world, and neither of us looked much different as far as I could tell. But it was different. I was different. Because now, the world looked right through me.

Because I am a ghost.

I am a ghost.

I know I am a ghost because, after what I’m guessing – since there is no clock or calendar in my world – many years of living. I say “living” with some caution because, of course, ghosts aren’t alive. At least not in the way all those around me who don’t see me are alive. But they are alive, every one of them. I can tell by the hurry and worry they carry with themselves everywhere they go. Constantly in motion, even when that motion seems to take them nowhere in particular. Just circles circling other circling circles, always in a rush to go everywhere, but never seeming to go anywhere. Except that none of these concentric living circles ever seem to circle me.

Because I am a ghost.

I am a ghost.

I know I am a ghost because of something I saw in a movie once when I was still alive. Those who still move in circles can hear me. They hear the same sounds I hear when I make when I choose to make them. They hear the groan, the belch, the occasional fart – although I don’t know where the belch and the fart come from, because as I learned from the same movie, ghosts don’t belch or fart – and also from the moving of objects that are, in my ghostly existence, important to me.

I guess, because that’s what the movie taught me, that objects which were important to me in my previous life are still important to me in this life as well. It makes me question my previous life’s life-choices as to why I didn’t place more importance on a nice car, or maybe a big house, or even on better clothes, because the only things that must have been important to me in that other life seem to be a raggedy overcoat, the morning newspaper, and a shopping cart that wobbles at the wheels and scrapes at the pavement as I walk. Seriously, if I could give just one word of advice to those still living – but I can’t, because to my knowledge, none of them has ever heard a word I have said – it would be to acquire nice things for yourself in life, because one day you might be a ghost and need them.

Yeah, the things you learn the hard way.

Because you are a ghost.

I am a ghost.

I know I am a ghost because, after a lifetime of seeing no need at all for god or the church, I live behind a church, on the edge of a graveyard – how ironic on so many levels, being a ghost because… graveyard, and an atheist ghost because… church – but they let me stay as the church folk look right through me like the rest of the living do. Oh, and they allow me to eat left-overs from the shiny dumpster next to the boarded-up back door. I even sleep behind it when the wind blows extra cold some nights, and my overflowing morning newspapers can’t seem to keep the wind out of my ghost-self bones.

Like on this night.

Because that’s what ghosts do.

And I am a ghost.

 


You can reach Bill Friday in these places as well:

Twitter: @ThatManFriday

Instagram: @BillFriday

Facebook: facebook.com/thatmanfriday

Website: BillFriday.com


This has been

Day 30

of