Tag: dark

Murder at The Jail

Welcome back:

Hi. It’s been a while and now it’s awkward. Well, not really. That’s how blogs work, right? There’s a lot of posted content and then silence. Maybe some periods of sporadic writings, but then more silence.

Well, that seems to be how MY blogs go anyway. Jen, Cym, and I were talking about reviving this website starting the first day of October. Posting everyday if possible, then life happened again. I did make a promise that I would post this month. I had a lot of ideas, but just not enough energy or motivation. However, I am going to keep that promise.

I am going to try to get at least one post a month here. Everything and everyone has been reminding me that I am a writer. I like writing. My husband told me about this job where I would be writing and getting published, and instead of throwing myself into the research for this job, I did nothing for it. I still have time to create something (all I have to submit is a total of 600 words – 100 for the summary of the story and a 500 word writing example) and submit it. I will be working on that next (I have everything worked out in my head, I just need to sit down and type). Then, last night at a wedding, my husband’s childhood friend’s fiancé said to me “See, I would want to write my own vows like they did, but I would need a ghost writer.” I immediately went “I’d do it. I have a degree in Writing Arts. I write.” Immediately after, in my head, I said to myself, “but do I?

Enough about my excuses and questioning my life. I am here to tell you about the ONLY spoopy October event I was able to go to this year. I was SO excited for it and I am excited to share it with you.

Background of the event:

Years ago, the name of a local tattoo parlor was given to my mother-in-law when she asked one of our friends where he got his tattoos done. Let’s call it “Alien Ink” because I don’t like giving out names of places close to where I live. I like the mystery of “Where do I live in New Jersey?” Alien Ink was owned by a husband and wife (let’s call her Tara) and they were even featured on a ghost show because the place is haunted. My mother-in-law went to get a tattoo there a few years ago. Her best friend and I accompanied her, but I had to leave at one point, and they experienced something afterwards. Legit haunted.

The couple had a nasty split up. She got to keep the building and has renamed to (let’s say) “The Jail,” but the now ex-husband has been continuously trying to ruin Tara’s career. When you type in the old name of the business, it now redirects to HIS new studio (which was the reason she had to rename it). He has been slandering her name as well as her new boyfriend’s name. AND HE TOOK THE DOGS (insert super angry face here). So, Tara has been trying to get back on her feet.

My mother-in-law and her best friend decided to get similar tattoos there to symbolize their friendship and help Tara out. My father-in-law even helped to build a new sign for the building. While getting worked on, Tara talked about an upcoming event they were going to hold at the shop. It was called “Murder at The Jail.” This would be a free show where they would display artwork done by serial killers and host some local vendors. Of course, my mother-in-law and her best friend were interested and knew that I would absolutely want to go as I am a huge true crime junkie. This event weekend was sandwiched between two weddings and I wasn’t going to let anything keep me from attending as it would be the only weekend in October I actually didn’t have any plans for yet.

Murder at The Jail:

The event was to take place from 1pm – 8pm. I suggested we go to it, grab dinner, then go look at local houses that were decorated from Halloween. However, there were some hiccups and we didn’t get to the event until about 7:30pm. I was worried I wouldn’t get to see everything (I didn’t know how many pieces of art would be displayed) so I hurried inside hoping the others would follow close behind.

After signing in, we made our way back to the main room where Tara tattoos clients. There were a decent amount of tables and easels containing artwork from Charles Manson, John Wayne Gacy, Nicolas Claux, Richard Ramirez, and others. After a quick look, we went upstairs where there were things to purchase like Tara’s own artwork, soaps with serial killer’s images on them (with or without “blood”), bath bombs in the shapes of skulls, and body scrubs/butters that were named after serial killers.

It got a little crowded, so I headed back downstairs to look closer at the artwork and buy shirts from the event/parlor.

Some The Artwork:

I took a few photos of the artwork (sorry about glares). This is just a small percentage of what was there. Just a forewarning, some of these paintings may contain actual blood.

By Richard Ramirez aka The Night Stalker
Charles Manson and Sharon Stone by Jeremy Jones
Halloween and Pennywise by Charles Rienhardt
Self portrait by Nicolas Claux aka the Vampire of Paris
By Charles Manson
Pogo The Clown (his own clown persona) by John Wayne Gacy aka the Killer Clown

After Thoughts:

I really hate the glare/reflections on those photos, but nothing can be done about it now. And honestly, that’s besides the point.

Some people may see this as glorifying terrible people, criminals, the scum of the earth. I totally understand and sometimes I question why I really enjoy true crime podcasts/shows/documentaries/books. After all, they will live in infamy as long as they are remembered. So why not let them die completely?

On the other hand, the one that wins out for me, is we need to recognize these events in history so that we are aware of the signs and aware that not all people, no matter how they present themselves, can be truly evil at the core. This way, we can hopefully protect ourselves and others.

I don’t know if I would ever go to another event like this, in all honesty. I thought it was absolutely cool and some of the artwork was just phenomenal, but I think, at least for me, I must keep a balance. Learn about the serial killers and their actions, but try not to completely humanize them (even though they are/were humans albeit, messed up ones). Keep them at a distance. I don’t want to be perceived by others as if I glorify or worship them because that could not be further from the truth. It’s something I have to give more thought to.

Wrapping Up:

What are your thoughts? Are you into true crime? Would you attend an event like this? Why or why not? I am very interested to see people’s take on this.

-K.

am wriitn, art work, blood, charles manson, charles rienhardt, crime, dark, jeremy jones, john wayne gacy, killer clown, murder, n claux, nico claux, nicolas claux, nightstalker, parlor, patches the clown, pogo the clown, richard ramirez, rienhardt, scary, spoopy, tattoo, tattoo parlor, true crime, true crime junkie, vampire of paris, writer, writing

Doors by K. Leigh

The stream of light beamed from Clara’s small flashlight. Her batteries would be failing any time now. She noticed the light get less powerful over the hours she spent trying to figure out this underground labyrinth. The stones that made up the wall harbored areas of moss. The dirt dusted path crunched under her black Converse. Drips of water vibrated through the passage as they dropped from an unseen ceiling. It must be raining outside, but how far down am I? Clara thought to herself. Whom was she hiding from? There was no reason to stay silent. “Who knew that libraries really did have books that led to secret tunnels?” Clara’s voice echoed down the empty hallway.

“We did,” came a reply.

converse, dark, Doors, fantasy, fiction, fire, flashlight, games, girl, gnomes, labyrinth, riddles

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The Son

The Son

He lay silent on the floor, curled up with his knees to his chest. The sun lightly touching the cold wooden floor, but he knew the time was coming. He could hear the heavy footsteps on the stairs below. They were clearly meant for him. He could sense the anger in the thuds and creaks. He shut his eyes tight again, so tight he could see the red and white circles on the black background of his eyelids.

The wooden door slammed open, hit the wall hard, and flew back. It halted at Luke’s father’s hand.

“Git up,” came his father’s gruff voice.

Luke stirred, but not fast enough for his father’s patience. He felt the fingernails dig into his back as he was pulled to his feet. When enough blood was drawn from his flesh, his father pushed him against the wall to make sure he was not going to be able to fall asleep again.

curse, dark, disease, disgust, father, fear, grotesque, help, horror, house, monster, murder, sheriff, short, short story, son, story, the son

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