About Shah Wharton: I've enjoyed 'words' and all forms of art forever. I read a lot and I'm currently writing a novel - my first (Finding Esta). I also write short stories and I have completed around thirty and learn more from them than from any other writing genre. I've been writing poetry for years, for catharsis more than anything. I have bipolar disorder, which runs in the family, and means I've had great need of an outlet at times. I have hundreds of poems completed, many on scraps of paper everywhere, and two published in anthologies. I'm interested in how people use art as a form of expression during hard times - how they use it to help them cope with, or get through those times. If you are especially knowledgeable of such things/related things please contact me to submit an article or anything you feel could be of use or inspiration to us. I have a BSC(hons) in Psychology and I'm qualified in counselling, hypnotherapy and mentoring amongst other things. I think we can tell a lot about people by their playlist - check out mine - http://www.mixpod.com/playlist/73938749 Thanks for your interest.
You can find Shah Wharton blogging away at Wordsinsync.
by Shah Wharton
It was the time of year she’d anticipated: Halloween – A time of gaudy orange and velvet black, candy shapes and spooks, the dead and reminiscences of their passing.... and of children playing old games in strange costumes. Her son Graham had once loved it.
Insomnia meant she had too much time to think. She fantasised about the expressions on deceptive, cute faces as they tasted special treats, prepared by her own hand from scratch. Toffee apples, lollipops and chocolates all wrapped in bright shiny wrappers, would certainly please greedy eyes and watering mouths.
Indeed, her imaginings grew so bold they began to stir her stomach, cramping and squeezing it. Soon enough, her mouth watered and she gagged. She ran to the loo and threw up. Rinsing her mouth and wiping her sweaty brow, her instincts peaked. Like stone she stood, awaiting the summons. Her door bell punctuated the music of giggles and tiny feet coming from the street, the excitement of which almost made her vomit again. Though this time, she kept it down.
Peering through dusty bathroom blinds she saw them: Little witches and ghouls, vampires and werewolves, each with goodie bags, tummies with butterflies, hearts overflowing with love. More vomit tried for release, sweat crept threw her skin cooling her a little. With a pounded heart and on trembling legs, she rushed down to her long awaited visitors.
Swinging open her door, they all sang out, “Trick or Treat?” Their laughter made her want to scream.
She presented them each with their own package – a proud carved-out pumpkin stuffed with candy. Tiny eyes opened as wide as tiny mouths. She knew they’d grab their loot then run so she had to speak to them, which she found difficult.
“Because I ... made so much effort for you all, please allow me to enjoy seeing you taste these... extraordinary delights, before you go.”
“No problem, Lady,” said a little boy in zombie costume. Little Darren from down the road is gonna get his.
Lisa from the next street snatched her prize and stuffed a chocolate in her greedy mouth without hesitation. “Thank you, Miss,” she said, spitting chocolate at everyone.
They all chose their candy source, unwrapped and consumed.
'Good little brats.'
Her guts flipped again as she recalled Graham’s corpse, drowned, bruised.
‘You all left him there, alone. He couldn't swim but you all thought throwing him in the filth pond water, watching him scream, flapping helplessly, was so much fun, didn’t you. If that wasn’t enough, he fought the infection like a warrior, but you never saw that bit, did you. You never watched him die; poisoned by his friends.’
Quickly, the rewards for her patience arrived. Rosy cheeks turned a shade of green. Small, chilly bodies began to boil. Pink lips turned blue, killing smiles which hung there only moments before.
‘Payback for you, sweet Graham.’
One by one they dropped, clutching onto each other and their poisoned pumpkins.
“Happy Halloween” she said to them as death found each one. “But I never answered your question - forgive me. I choose, Trick!” She closed the door smiling uncertainly, sucking on a lollipop, tears streaming down her cheeks.