Then happened the REAL horror story . . .

With Halloween approaching, I was in the mood early this morning to draft one of my mini-horror stories: mixing a political theme, jobless youth, with the idea of our state still being haunted by the Industrial Revolution where child laborers slaved away their precious youth in DARK SATANIC MILLS.

I learned on You Tube that the Old Slater Mill in Pawtucket has a reputation for being haunted. I imagined a frustrated unemployed teenager aroused by his Lovecraftian walk– often passing by LOVERS LANE by the old canal in Roger Williams Park– seeing used condoms; feeling like a loser on Friday Night (date night!) getting drunk on his Pop's Four Roses Whiskey– then with a hidden butcher knife heading for the Last House on the Left- seeing HIS girl in the bathroom window taking a hot shower- getting ready for a dreamy, romantic Prom Night . . .

Of course, she does not know that she is HIS girl. She likes the rich boy. But the DISTURBED YOUTH is thinking ahead of next day's HEADLINE NEWS and two very unquiet graves. His only friend THE VOICE told him to DO IT on Halloween Night- truly a night of the Living Dead . . .

It is Washington Park in the early 60s. A bunch of working class teenagers are outside a Georgia Ave. Jewelry shop. They are all shocked by the front page news: MURDER-SUICIDE IN QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD.

The pretty girl and the disturbed youth had both worked side by side on the sweat shop foot presses in early July. They remembered SHE calling him a loser for dropping out of Hope High in the 10th grade. SHE didn't date LOSERS! . . .

So, here is how this horror story really ended for ME : I accidentally hit the DISCARD DRAFT button. And to my horror my story did not even make it to THE CLOUD. "Never more!" I moaned. "Never more!"