Never Touch the Baby Carriage

This week, for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55, our tale explores what might’ve happened (or not) during a tour of an abandoned NYC mansion.

“Don’t touch it.”


Tourists. “Hunger. The baby’s eternally… No!”

But I wasn’t fast enough, the tourist’s face was already in the stroller, feeding noises filling the room.

“Never touch the baby carriage,” I whispered, as my brain fought to forget the wet popping sound an eyeball makes when it’s sucked out of its socket.

a wee note…
– this is a work of fiction. Yes, I know babies can be outrageously creepy, but… I’ve never heard of a toothless youngster feeding on the eyeballs of NYC tourists who can’t follow rules. But one can still hope… Anyhoo, this flash was inspired by a picture in Bryan Sansivero’s article, “Exploring an Abandoned New York Mansion with a Secret Past”, in Atlas Obscura.

by Bryan Sansivero

Fibs Make Horrible Holiday Gifts

December 15, 2013
Eeriesoil, New York


Fibs make horrible holiday gifts. Lying tongues shrivel the heart, dull the bite. Is that a raisin, caged between your ribs and the slug that used to be your spine? Blood deserves truth—I give you my refusal to feign fright at the sight of garlic crosses… just to fit your acquaintances’ myth of bliss.

Yours in blood,
Drusilla Amarantha Tepes, the Only

the wee notes…
– I don’t think you need to know the speaker’s story, or the details of her relationship with the subject, to appreciate this bit of prose poetry. But if you wish to know more about her, visit my Web Serials page, and check out, Drusilla; or, Camp Cute, Creepy and (quite conveniently) Remote.
– for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 and the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.