BookWatch: A Bit of Shameless Self-Promotion

    Yep, that's right, folks, while I've been gone I actually managed to sell something ( a few somethings, actually) that I wrote my damn self! And by "sell," I mean I actually got money for it and it's been with legitimate people, not vanity/scam presses like the living nightmare Eber & Wein (who I still need to write an eviscerating explanatory post on, but for now, let's keep it short and say if you value your writing, sanity, and time, AVOID THEM AT ALL COSTS). 
    One of the anthologies I've been lucky enough to be included in, Carrying On, from Welton Marsland, is a collection of fan poetry about the show Supernatural, with an introduction written by Sheriff Jody Mills herself, known to outsiders as Kim Rhodes and The Mom From The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, back when Disney live-action sitcoms didn't make me want to gouge my own eyes out with a dull spoon. Two of my poems, "The Journey" and "Villanelle For Team Free Will," are included in the collection, along with three poems from by best friend and future illustrator, Abby McGrath (way to go, Abby!). If you're a fan of the show or interested in this work, here's a helpful link (and no, I'm not trying to sling this at you to fatten my own wallet; I've already gotten paid for it. I just honestly think it's a pretty cool little book, and the publishing process was interesting and fun.). Buy it or don't; I'm just leaving this here.
     https://www.amazon.com/Carrying-Collection-Poetry-Inspired-Supernatural/dp/064698196X/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1520273171&sr=8-6&keywords=carrying+on+book
    In other news, I've also sold two poems to two upcoming Lycan Valley Press anthologies, Untimely Frost and Darkling's Beasts and Brews, and a short story (my first story sold!) to an as-yet untitled abandoned-places horror anthology from Darkwater Syndicate. As I receive publishing information for these works, I'll happily post the links here as well, so you can check them out if you want, or ignore them if you'd prefer.
    So I'm done patting myself on the back for now; I just wanted to check in and let y'all know that in between neglecting this blog and going to physical therapy and various doctors, I wasn't just slacking off: I was busy throwing shit at the wall, and apparently, some if it's actually starting to stick. My landlord might not be too happy about that, but trust me, I very much am. 
    Here's hoping I have more good news (and, yes, ACTUAL cryptozoological/paranormal/conspiratorial/just-plain-fucked-up) posts for you guys soon!

B.S.Watch: It's Not a Devil, It's Just Friend Owl

    Welcome one and all to B.S.Watch, another segment that I hope to update semi-regularly. As you can probably gather from the segment name, this is where I'll be sharing with you some of the worst, thinnest, most laughable attempts by government agencies, scientists, and just plain ol' skeptics to explain away strange sightings, paranormal phenomenon, and cryptid creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. Now, of course everyone has a right to their own opinion, and I think some healthy skepticism is a good thing; even I don't believe in everything (Goatman of Pope Lick, I'm looking at you. Or, well, I would be, if I thought for a second you were real, which I don't.). These posts will not be about plausible, rational debunkings of the stranger aspects of this world. No, these posts will be about those proposed explanations that insult the intelligence of everyone they're being spoon-fed to, allowing me to mercilessly mock the ones putting that crap forth just as they seem to enjoy mocking us through what they expect us to believe. I refuse to just sit down, swallow these ridiculous theories, and shut up, and so should you. So for my first post, I thought I might start with a local legend where I'm from, for centuries now the terror of New Jersey (is a Pauly D reference too cliched at this point?): The Jersey Devil. Or, as some would have you believe, Dear Old Friend Owl.
    Witness: "I just saw it!!! I just saw it!!! It was standing only three feet away from me!!! It had the head of a horse, a kangaroo-like body, hooves like a goat's for its feet, little horns on its head, a long forked tail, and, oh yeah, giant bat wings!!!"
    Professional skeptic: "Calm down bro it was probably just a great horned owl."

 

Well, now the confusion is understandable.

    Okay, so an owl has talons, and the tufts on its head might be mistaken for horns (hence the name). And it can be found in the Pine Barrens, where most Devil sightings take place, and yes, if you didn't know what the hell it was and all of a sudden it flew shrieking at you, talons extended and eyes glowing, the panic might cause you to remember slightly more devil-like and less owlish. If you had also been consuming some of the potent local applejack, that, too, might influence your perception of the encounter. So yeah, it's entirely possible that a few sightings of the Devil over the years have actually been spurred by misidentifications of this bird (though a sandhill crane has also been put forth as a possible candidate and, again, may fit some but not all of the sightings), but to say that the Devil is this bird consistently misidentified is just plain insulting. 

    First of all, "Adult great horned owls range in length from 43 to 64 cm (17 to 25 in), with an average of 55 cm (22 in), and possess a wingspan of 91 to 153 cm (3 ft 0 in to 5 ft 0 in), with an average of 122 cm (48 in). Females are somewhat larger than males." (Wikipedia) The Jersey Devil's reported height has varied throughout years of sightings, sometimes reported as around three feet in height but many times closer to six, so unless some radiation has leaked into the cranberry bogs that we don't know about and is producing mutated horned owls of amazing size, the general sizes of these two creatures doesn't match up so neatly. 

    Secondly, the Jersey Devil is routinely seen not just by drunks, hoaxers, or newbies wandering around in the woods for the first time who have never seen an owl outside a Harry Potter movie, but by seasoned hunters, trackers, and Pine Barrens residents who have lived there for generations and damn well know what a horned owl looks like. To insult their intelligence by telling them that they don't know what they saw or are misidentifying a creature that they're familiar with is, well, insulting. Would these skeptics walk into an architect's office and tell him he didn't know what a T-square looks like, or go up to a horse breeder and tell him that he couldn't tell a stallion from a fence post? Even professionals can make mistakes, but to dismiss sightings that have been up close and personal with the Beast of the Pine Barrens, not just a sighting at night from far across a wooded stretch of land, is just plain irresponsible.

    Thirdly, the animal described does not match the attributes of a great horned owl. Tufts that might be horns, talons; those they might share, but cloven hooves for feet? Huge, leathery, bat-like (as opposed to feathered) wings? A long, forked tail? A horse's or goat's head? These are specific, reoccurring identifiers in the many, admittedly varied, descriptions of the Jersey Devil since the first sightings started in the 1700s; I, for one, have never seen an owl that shared any of these qualities, and if one were one day to be found I suspect it would warrant a ranking on the "freaks of the world" list itself. It's one thing to suggest a creature like the sandhill crane, which is taller, more aggressive, has a bill that, I suppose, could be mistaken for a long face, and has a wider wingspan, but even that stretches the limit of credibility--again, yes, mistakes can be made and I'm sure often have been, but when the Jersey Devil is being described by somebody who got a good, long, clear look at it, whether while it was flying overhead or stealing a freshly baked pie off a Pine Barrens windowsill, and an animal is suggested that doesn't match the description much at all, pushing for skepticism at that point seems faintly ridiculous. Rather than simply admit that "No, I have no idea what the heck you just saw, Mrs. Reed, but we'll do our best to figure it out," hard-core debunkers and skeptics prefer to push a laughably thin "rational" narrative that isn't all that rational at all, once you get right down to it, and makes them, rather than the witnesses they're trying to discredit, seem the foolish ones. Guys, it's all right to admit you don't know every once and a while. Saying that it might just be a creature science has yet to recognize is a heck of a lot better than clinging to the explanation that it's an owl or a crane when it's clearly none of the above at least some of the time. But they'll never say that, because they're right and we're wrong and they know what they're talking about and we don't. Um, last time I checked that isn't how science is supposed to work... 

    I could go on for pages about this, but I feel like I've gotten my point across pretty well for the time being, so now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pie that I have to put out on the windowsill--I'll let you know if our good friend the Jersey Devil Mr. Owl shows up for a piece. 

   

    

I know. I know.

    I redesign the blog, throw a few new posts at you, and then go off and disappear again, leaving you dangling (that is, if anybody out there is actually reading this). I know. And I'm sorry about that. To make a long story short (and put an end to whatever conspiracy theories my two or three readers might have come up with in my absence): No, I was not taken by the aliens. No, I was not told to cease and desist by strange-looking men in black suits who approached me in the middle of the night on a deserted highway and then disappeared. No, I was not eaten by a megashark or turned into a werewolf (I imagine using a keyboard with huge clawed paws would be pretty difficult, though). Here's my explanation for why I've been away so long, told vaguely enough to delight the most covert of government cover-up operatives. 
    For a while, this blog and some of my other online activities kind of fell by the wayside as I tried to focus on my potential writing career--in addition to paranoia-drenched blog posts, I also write all kinds of science, horror, and fantasy fiction (tending to jump from unfinished novel to unfinished novel, so hey, you guys aren't the only ones being left in the lurch) as well as massive amounts of poetry, not all of it about aliens, Bigfoot, and the like, and I've been sending out huge chunks of my writing at a time trying to get published SOMEWHERE, and while it's been slow going with not much results to speak of, it's still taken up most of my concentration and internet time. Compounding the issue has been that for a while, due to circumstances beyond my control, my less-than-regular internet access has been less-than-less-than-regular, meaning that what time I have managed to get I've spent with poetry, typing stuff up, and going on twitter @asubtleaurora and crying about Dean Forester and Captain Canary, which takes more out of a girl than you can imagine, and not so much researching the cryptid of the week or any lately local weirdness (not that there's been much to speak of where I'm from, anyway). And no, my internet access has not been off and on because the WiFi in my mom's basement has been on the fritz lately; you might all be surprised to know that I don't even own a functioning computer and depend on the local library for access to the online world, and it's been harder for me to get here lately. 
    (Fun fact: This is the same local library that doesn't have any season of The X-Files past season one. I'm not saying government conspiracy, but I'm saying government conspiracy.)
    Plus, I've been feeling like crap lately due to several health issues; nothing fatal, but all long, drawn-on, several chronic, and most slamming me at once, and only now am I starting to even possibly get a handle on them, which requires a lot of guess-and-check and watching-and-waiting, which doesn't help much, either. And no, before anybody asks, as far as I know these problems are not the result of either alien or government genetic experimentation, although if I start to remember anything in a series of flashbacks and/or nightmares I'll be sure to let you all know. If they let me.
    But recently, despite all the crap going on that's kept me off this delightful site, I recently received a swift kick of inspiration that's gotten me back to my roots, all the strange and mysterious things I originally started writing about and, really, missed a whole lot, and I've been writing more in the cryptid/paranormal vein in my fiction and even gone back to a story I dropped a few years ago that looks promising, and that's kind of what's gotten me back here. As I get more seriously involved in trying to finish this story and planning out a crapton more, as well as working harder to get published, I figured that I could use the weird energy I'm currently riding along on and bring it back to this blog as well--maybe it'll actually help keep me on track for once, too. My best friend/best editor/future co-writer suggested that as I keep going with my monster/cryptid/paranormal stories I tie it all in with my blog: As I research each of my new books or stories, I could post about each topic up here as well, both sharing what if anything new I'm learning as well as getting my readers involved with my fictional side (be prepared: It gets pretty dark there. Bring a flashlight or two.) and keeping them up-to-date with what I'm up to when I'm not online. It'll still probably be off-and-on activity, at least until I get my own computer/WiFi, but I'm going to try to take my friend's advice and get more involved again, and maybe one day, when I have a better setup and I'm on the road to publishing, you may even see some short stories or excerpts from my books up here, or at least find out where to find them. That's a little while away for now, but I do promise to throw more than one post a year your way from now on, so keep your eye out for them, and until then, keep your eyes on the sky--after all, in both cases, you never know what you'll see.
    And sometimes, once they're done with you, you won't even remember. 

SeaWatch: What's Eaten Ya, Pal?

    All right, for those of you who don't know, I'm terrified of sharks. I mean, we're talking Sam-Winchester-and-clowns level of fear here, so this morning when I was listening to the Bizarre File on the Preston and Steven Show this morning on 93.3 WMMR and the lead story began with the words "a nine-foot great white" (followed by the word "shark," so I was relatively certain it wasn't some strange story about the band) a part of me Darth Vader-screamed "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"  and wanted me to lunge for the radio and flip the station before my entirely overactive imagination conjured up some Jaws-esque horror show and made me run to my stuffed panda for comfort (as a side note, everybody with a massive fear of something should have a relatively large stuffed panda to cuddle with in times of crisis. I've found it helps a great deal. Unless, I suppose, you're afraid of pandas, in which case, like the story of the Ugly Barnacle, "That didn't help at all."). However, I couldn't help but be a little curious (the horror writer in me, I guess), and the radio stayed on. I found myself intrigued by the story told by an upcoming Smithsonian Channel documentary, Hunt For the Super Predator, which airs Wednesday, June 25th, at 8:00 PM (ET/PT).
    Apparently, eleven years ago, a nine-foot female great white shark was tagged as "part of Australia's first-ever large-scale tagging and tracking program for great whites," and "cinematographer Dave Riggs and a film crew found a perfect specimen," (Yahoo) a nine-foot female that was named Shark Alpha and tagged so the researchers could track her movements.Four months later, the tag washed up on the beach.
    (As a side note, I'm just gonna go off on a bit of a limb here and say I don't think Dave Riggs is related to the Lethal Weapon character with the same last name. If it was Martin Riggs going after this Super Predator, I feel safe in saying it would be an entirely different kind of film.)
    According to the data on the tag, "Alpha had plunged straight down the side of the continental shelf, more than 1,500 feet deep." (Yahoo) You'd assume (or maybe you wouldn't, I don't know--those who would assume, would assume) that the deeper the water, the colder it would get, and for once assuming wouldn't make an...well, you know. The tag, however, had heated up, going from 46 to 78 degrees Fahrenheit, which researchers say means that it was most likely inside the belly of another creature. Something fought, beat, and ate a nine-foot great white shark. So what ate Alpha? (Dude, if nobody makes a T-shirt outta that, I'm going to be severely disappointed in the internet.) Speculation, of course, has run rampant ever since this story's come around, with possible culprits including

• a kraken
• a larger shark
• Godzilla
• giant squid
• an orca
• that giant monster fish thing from The Phantom Menace (all right, that was my contribution)

    Of course, scientists have again taken the fun out of speculating, putting forth the probable view that Alpha was attacked and eaten, either for territorial reasons or because the other guy was really, really hungry and there wasn't a McDonald's for another ten miles and he just didn't feel like swimming that far anyway, by another shark. Yes, that's right, folks, "a colossal cannibal great white shark," the stuff of my nightmares--and, I'm assuming, more than a few of yours. This CCGWS has been "estimated at 16 feet long and over 2 tons," (People) so it is, in fact, larger than former Philadelphia Eagles coach Andy Reid, if only just barely. 
    According to Riggs, the change in temperature that was recorded by the tag was "pretty high, but not large enough to be a mammal;" however, "it's something seriously huge to sustain that temperature--the larger the animal, the more capable it is of an elevated temperature." (Christian)
    "Seriously huge." Words that I never ever want to associate with sharks, along with "colossal," "great white," and "right behind you." I know this post is perhaps a bit more mundane than most of my other ones, considering that so far Godzilla/et al has not been ruled as a viable possibility, but it still has to do with fear, I suppose, and that tends to be at the core of most of what I do here. No, perhaps the CCGWS won't come knocking at your window in the middle of the night or try to steal your immortal soul from the other side of the mirror, but the next time you step into a body of water larger than a puddle, how many of you are going to stare just a little bit longer out over the ocean, waiting to see a giant fin rear up out of the water, those giant teeth still clotted with the remains of its last nine-foot meal, those dead eyes rolling back in its head--
    Two thousand feet down, you say? Yeah. I know. Like I said, overactive imagination. 
    But to be safe, I still say we're gonna need a bigger boat.  

I'm not even going to try to put a picture here. The anxiety caused by the pictures I saw reading my research articles is traumatizing itself without adding one more for posterity. Use your imaginations. Try not to wet yourselves. Though if you do, I can't say I'd judge you. Like I said. Terrified.
 

One, Two, Happy Birthday to You...

    Hey, guys, just a quick check-in--no legends or lore to impart to you today, just a birthday message for a pretty cool birthday boy: the awesome, iconic actor Robert Englund. You probably know him as Freddy frakkin' Krueger, but you also might recognize him from roles in movies, video games, and TV shows such as The Mangler (based on the Stephen King Night Shift story of the same name), Wishmaster, Urban Legend, Idle Hands (no crap--the guy was the voice of The Hand), Zombie Strippers, the 2010 Supernatural episode "Appointment in Samarra," Inkubus, Call of Duty: Black Ops (yeah, you can play as Robert flippin' Englund; almost makes me want to take it up), the "Camping Can Be Cool" episode of Regular Show (as the Stag-Man, who was pretty damn freaky), Strippers vs Werewolves, many more movies and TV shows full of horror and gore, and I'm pretty sure somewhere in there a few things not as full of horror and gore. But anyway, happy birthday, dude! 

 

Those claws should help him cut his cake, anyway...

Jeepers, Creepers, How'd You Lose Your Peepers?

    I'm sure everybody out there reading this has, at some point in their lives, either heard of or carried out the ritual meant to summon Bloody Mary herself from the depths of a mirror (and if it's the latter, I apologize in advance, because I am going to be tearing the absolute crap out of you for the rest of this post). What I'm wondering is how many of you actually stopped, considered what you were doing, and asked yourselves, "Self, why would anybody want to actually do this stupid thing?" Because lately I've really been wondering this, and I can't seem to find a good explanation anywhere. I mean, when I brought it up at dinner recently (yes, this stuff really is the topics I bring up at the dinner table--what do you talk about? The weather? The economy? The giant hive of killer bees you've noticed in the backyard? You poor unfortunate souls.), my mother suggested that people do it just to see if it'll work, but that didn't sit right with me. I mean, why would people want to see if chanting a witch's name in the mirror three times will really make her jump out and tear your eyes from your screaming face? I mean, I feel pretty good not knowing that, and I don't feel like risking my eyeballs (or anybody else's--most anybody, anyway) to find out. 
    All right, between now and the time I started writing this post, during the gigantic break I took (all right, so it was like a week--I GOT DISTRACTED BY THINGS), I happened to watch the season one episode of Supernatural that dealt with this very same legend, and in the opening scene I found the one other person besides myself who I have ever openly heard question why somebody would want to carry this ritual out. The scene featured three young girls at a slumber party (duh) who were playing Truth or Dare, and the Bloody Mary ritual was the dare. One of the girls had never heard of the legend before, and after a brief debate about whether she was a witch or some woman who died in a car crash, one girl explained that if you repeat "Bloody Mary" while standing in front of a mirror, her ghost will show up and scratch your eyes out. The third girl then asked, "Then why would anybody want to do that?" Congratulations, little girl--you're smarter than half the adults on that show. 
    And I believe I might have found somebody else who shares my curiosity on this topic: In his Encyclopedia of Urban Legends Jan Harold Brunvand writes: "In many places it is said that "Mary" will spring out of the mirror and scratch the face of the one calling on her, but why anyone would invite this attack is not explained." Thank you, Mr. Brunvand. Thank you. 
    Now, this post isn't meant to either verify or disprove the Bloody Mary legend itself; maybe at some other time I'll tackle that, but for right now I'm just questioning the reasoning behind it. In case there are some out there, though, who are like the smart girl on Supernatural and haven't heard of it or for those who want a refresher, the basic ritual usually always remains the same, so here's a very basic refresher: You walk into a dark room (usually a bathroom; lit candles are optional), stand in front of the mirror, and recite a certain name or phrase a certain number of times. The name and what you're supposed to say varies greatly, and what follows is a list of some of the names I've picked up from various sources throughout my research ever since I first heard the legend:

• Bloody Mary
• Mary Worth
• Mary Worthington
• Kathy
• Sally
• Black Aggie
• Hell Mary
• Mary Lou/Jane
• Mary Johnson
• "In Brazil, the bathroom spirit is known as a 'loira de banheiro,' or 'the blonde in the toilet,' and is called out by flushing the toilet." (Bielski)

    Sometimes you add "I believe" to what you say, as in "I believe in Mary Worth," or "Come out, Mary (Kathy/Sally/etc.)." Sometimes, as in the ritual from Brazil, the person carrying out the ritual is supposed to run water or flush the toilet as well, but many of the legends go the simple route and just ask the person to say her name while looking in a mirror. After she's called, Mary/Kathy/Sally supposedly shows up and mutilates the person who called her in some way, most commonly by tearing their eyes from their face but also possibly by scratching their face, ripping their arms off, or even pulling them back through the mirror with her, a la Freddy Krueger jumping through the mirror in the end of the Nightmare on Elm Street remake to murder Connie Britton. This all sounds wonderful, no? With an alleged end result like this, why wouldn't somebody want to carry this ritual out?
    Oh, right, the mutilation thing. That should deter most people.
    And yet, it doesn't. Why not? Of course, across the country so many people do this "just for fun," and as far as I can see there haven't been confirmed reports that it actually works; I firmly believe that it's an urban legend that started somewhere and spread. After all, if it was real, how, exactly, would it work? Would Mary show up every time somebody tried to invoke her, whether they had her exact name or not? If you meant to call "Mary Worthington" and you said "Mary Worth," would she jump out anyway? And what about Kathy, Sally, Maryann, and Ginger? You can't mean to tell me that they're all trapped in mirrors waiting to hear a teenage girl in a college dorm bathroom call their name. Just imagine that conversation:
    Girl: "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary."
    Black Aggie: "Crap, it's for Mary again. Somebody go get her."
    Kathy: "She just left; some slumber party in Illinois, I think."
    La loira de banheiro: "If only she had flushed the toilet..."
    Somehow, I don't think that's quite how it goes. Although that would be pretty freaking amusing, I'll admit.
    But I've gotten a bit off track. As I said before, this post isn't designed to prove or disprove the legend itself; it's to wonder why anybody would try. As I pointed out at the dinner conversation I mentioned above, it would be one thing if by summoning Mary you could send her after somebody else and make her tear out their eyeballs, like some spiritual attack dog, or work a ritual to that effect, but no, it's your own face/eyes/limbs/reality you're risking by calling on the dead witch (or whatever). To me, this seems a bit like crossing against a red light just because you want to see if somebody will actually hit you (although I've heard that in some rural small towns, that qualifies as a "fun Friday night" when partnered with some cow tipping). Occasionally a legend will mention that whoever calls Mary up, if they don't look directly at her, will be able to have her reveal to them something about their future--but again, she may also possibly kill them. I suppose that's kind of revealing their future, isn't it? 

    This is just my opinion on this; I'm always willing to change it if compelling evidence arises, so if you've actually managed to summon Mary (and weren't sucked into the mirror with her), shoot an email my way--or, um, get somebody to dictate it for you, because if you've managed it, there's a pretty good chance you've lost your eyes and/or arms. Tell me what happened, when, where--and, most importantly, whether it was freaking worth it.

Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

    

   

The Witch is Back!

    If anybody missed me, that is.
    Anyway, if you're reading this, I suspect you've noticed the change I've made to the name of this blog, but don't worry--it's probably the only major change I'll be making to this wonderful pot of insanity. I was thinking about it recently--why call it simply SkyWatch when I'm on so many other Watches as well? And since most of them center around things that go bump in the night (or during the day, or in the attic, or the basement, or the backseat of your car as you're driving down a long and deserted highway through the middle of nowhere at midnight while listening to a news report about a dangerous, axe-wielding, escaped convict who happened to bust out right in the area where you are now), why not go with that? I can't say I won't have another change of heart somewhere down the line and change the name on you again, but that'll pretty much be the only change you'll have to worry about from here on out, because I'll never stop Watching, and I'll never stop blogging for long about the weird, the bizarre, the unsettling, the out-there--occasionally, the stupid and ridiculous; you know it has to happen--and, of course, the things that go bump, bump, bump in the night.
    Happy reading and happy hunting!!!
                                             From,
                                                    your Star Baby