Behind the Curtain

My husband and I were on a video chat with some long distance friends and all the while the tiny fibers in my being were urging insistently that this wasn’t enough. I began to suspect they felt it too because throughout the conversation someone would let slip “I miss you guys” in a soft and plaintive tone bespoken of earnest wishing.

What was so different about this than any other conversation? Long distance chatting is certainly nothing new. We have been using telephones, texting, and video calls for years. We ought to be well accustomed to this form of communication – and grateful since without we would have no other means to contact outside of a full vacation visit. Or letters. Which isn’t the same at all.

What’s so different about sitting on a couch sipping coffee with friends through a viewing screen vs sitting on a couch sipping the same coffee surrounded by those very friends? I tell you, it IS very different and somewhat wrong. Despite the instant gratification of viewing, chatting, and filling up the social cup our souls need, this form of long distance conversation is missing the thing our souls crave.

Energy. Aura. Chakra, if you will. Each of us gives off an invisible to the eye – but blatantly obvious to the soul – energy wave which harbors our individual essence. You feel it in crowds which either drains you – if introverted – or energizes you – of extroverted. One-on-one conversations can be made more intimate if you both harbor similar energy patterns. And that is exactly what we are missing in the long distance.

It can be described as watching yourself eat food on a recorded video. While you watch the nutrients enter your body, you begin to crave because your senses tell you there’s food, but your fibers are pulling at empty stores. You’re hungry and never satisfied.

And as I refrained from verbalizing the helpless pining, my heart broke a little with longing. I missed them, too.

This has been,



Marriage – A Lifetime of Messing with the Love in Your Life

My husband: That makeup makes you look like you have angry eyes.

Me: I’m not wearing any makeup…

I proceed to convince him the song goes “Angry eyes! I don’t know what I did to deserve your anger. Angry eyes!”

He believes me for almost two minutes.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin

Le Shorts

I’ve Got a Ghost Story for You

I don’t have many jokes or scary stories, but the few I have, and rarely tell, are good ones.

I’ve got a good one for you.


There once was an old woman who lived alone with her little dog. At night in her bed, she would put her hand down and the little dog would lick her hand, and so she knew everything was all right. The same went for this night. She put her hand down over the bed and the little dog licked her hand, and she knew all was well. So she went to sleep.

Sometime during the night, the old woman was awakened by a sound. It was like the drip, drip, dripping of water. She tried to go back to sleep, but she found that she couldn’t, and the drip, drip, dripping continued.

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, assuming the faucet had come loose. She tightened the faucet handles and went back to bed. She put her hand down and the little dog licked her hand, and so she went to sleep. But she couldn’t sleep just yet. The sound of the drip, drip, dripping continued.

“It could be the shower,” she thought to herself, and got out of bed again. She went to the bathroom, testing the faucet levers once more, before pulling back the curtain of the shower. There hanging from the shower head with blood drip, drip, dripping down its nose, was the little dog.

A shudder went through her when she realized something else had licked her hand that night… Some thing under the bed…

Frightfully yours,

Fanny T. Crispin


What Soothes the Soul?

Do you ever miss listening to music in the dark? Your headphones on and music rippling through your soul causing waves.

There’s a deeper connection here in the void. Just you. Just sounds. Something wholesome. Your soul sees. Your heart hears. Each ripple cascades over your skin with cool relief. Something deeper stirs. You feel it.

Part of you knows this moment is not of our world. It’s from beyond. You want to stay here. You need this. The other part of you – probably the pragmatic part – senses that it simply can’t last. So you sink beneath the waves. You dream. You taste.

Then you wake up.

This has been,