The Ghost in the Toilet

Not a hoax! Not a dream! Not an imaginary story! Ripped from the channels of reality TV comes the true, sensational story of one man's castle being invaded by supernatural entities from out of this world...(cue Rod Serling)...I bring you the tale of the Haunted Toilet.

Oh, it began benignly enough. One night, while asleep upstairs, I was awakened by a low moaning, a lonely cry in the night not unlike a mournful train's nocturnal lamenting of its lonely stature. My wife can sleep through a tornado, so I slipped out of bed, damn near slipped on the stairwell in the dark, and followed my ears. Kinda like an auditory-based Toucan Sam.

The noise grew louder as I inched down the hallway, resoundingly thunderous as I approached the bathroom. The moan reverberated into my teeth fillings and gave my Spidey Senses a good tingle. The moan then morphed into a hungry monster's growl, a runaway train headed straight outta Hell. Behind the closed bathroom door lurked...whatever. With a trembling hand set upon the door and my other fist pulled back to defend myself, I kneed the door open. Flipped on the light. And...

Nothing. The sound stopped. Cold, dead silence. And the bathroom was empty.

Now, this was disturbing on soooo many levels. First of all, the bathroom is my favorite room in our house. It's my special place where I can go, sit, let it all hang out, and just be me. A quiet place of contemplation, a safe place, an area where I can mentally work out all of the fixes of the world. And as soon as I pull up my big boy britches and leave, like a fading dream, all thoughts slip away and return to the reality of here and now. It's my Man-Cave.

So the idea of something intruding upon my Fortress of Solitude and Business didn't sit right with me. Felt it deep in my bowels.

That day, the toilet remained quiet.

However, around 3 a.m., just like the night before, the moaning began again. A repeat of the previous night, I raced down the stairs, while the din grew like audible mold. When I crashed open the door, the ghost once again fled.

This routine continued every night. At first, I thought I was going crazy. I didn't really fancy explaining it to my wife. So I took video proof that night. It's around here somewhere...lemme see...here it is! Turn the volume up on your computer so you can bear witness to the aural horrors I've been suffering: 

Exhausted, the next morning I explained our predicament to my wife. "I think we need an exorcist."

She stared at me, the longest slow-burn in history. Finally, she said, "How about a plumber?"

After some thought, I gave her a reasonable reply. "Nah, that won't work."

I was at an impasse with the ghost in the toilet, the lycanthrope of the lavatory, the boogieman of the bathroom, the phantom of the privy, the wiccan of the water-closet, the poltergeist of poo...call it what you want, but I was desperate to get rid of it, so I could get "normal" again. In every way possible.

So, it was time to consult an expert: anime.

Let me explain: anime caters to very niche audiences and tastes, most of them unfathomable to me. There's the requisite under-age school-girl in their outfits fetishes, the rapey tentacle monsters, the over-the-top and grotesque violence, no difference in appearance between children, men, and women, and last but not least, ghosts in the toilets. I don't make the rules, I just report them. There are numerous films and anime series about haunted toilets. The Japanese truly understand the sacred nature of the porcelain throne, one sub-genre I immersed myself in.

But after my immersion, I climbed back out, none the wiser on how to vanquish the ghost in the toilet. (Instead I had a massive headache from the non-stop screaming of ghost toilet anime).

Who or what is haunting our toilet? Furthermore, why? It might be Elvis. Yeah, it's gotta be Elvis. After all, he died on the toilet, therefore his soul is restless. ("Whole lotta movement goin' on.")

I'm at my wit's end. Scared. Snippy. Constipated. And the ghost moans on...

Happy Halloween, boo!

And the ghosts don't stop there. As a matter of fact, there's a veritable parade of ghosts in my historical-fiction, horror thriller, Ghosts of Gannaway. Read it, but fair warning: DO NOT read it on the toilet. Check it out here!

 

Picher, Oklahoma: Bringing the Ghosts to Life

My new book, Ghosts of Gannaway, is a sweeping historical ghost tale full of curses, Native-American rights, one of the first feminists, greed, hissable villains, noble heroes, hippies, union strikes, violence, animated statues, haunted museums, pollution and love that transcends death.

But mostly it's the tale of Picher, Oklahoma. Oh, sure, I moved the events just over the borderline to my fictionally created tale of Gannaway, Kansas. And the characters in the book aren't real. But some of them do represent archetypes of the long passed citizens of Picher, Oklahoma.

Very few people reside in Picher now. They can't. Because of the zinc and lead mining boom of the '30's, the town is now a death-trap. In more ways than one. The water's tainted. The air is polluted with poisonous particles lifted off the chat piles. The very few structures still standing have been torn apart by tornadoes. The township were forced to move. Or die. Of course there're still a few stubborn folks who reside there. None too friendly either, I might add. You might just see a few Confederate flags flying high in the dilapidated living quarters, good reason enough not to linger.

But Picher was once one of the most prosperous towns in the Midwest. How do I know? I researched it. It was the most exhausting book I've written yet and I won't be attempting that amount of research again. Not only does the book take place in 1935 but there's a dueling timeline in 1969 with all sorts of characters, plot-lines and ghosts crossing paths. Whew. During the final edit, I nearly had a panic attack when I caught a character in 1969 saying, "That sucks!" Um, no, just wasn't done. 

So...stupidly, I set the tale in two timelines I knew next to nothing about. I researched clothing, slang, lifestyles, food, autos, the effects of the depression. Then I had to find out about mining! Would you like to know about mining? Neither did I until I realized the book called for it! Now that info's stuck in my head! (Don't worry. I detailed only the pertinent information to the story, no boring lesson on mining here!) I found out about hippies and soul hand-shakes and the movements going on. I dug deep into unions and the violent labor strikes of the '30's. I learned about the plight of the Native-Americans in the Midwest going back years and years and years and...

Just too much. But I hope the research paid off. I tried to make my ambitious tale thrilling, chilling, exciting, action-packed, scary, even a little romantic. Let me know if I succeeded!

Act now, tell me later! For a small window of time, Ghosts of Gannaway is available for .99! That's a whole lotta' research and thrills for under a buck: One click away!