Episode Details

It's a little late but Happy St. Patrick's Day!TranscriptLet’s Get Spooky!
Irish Locketby Spooky Boo RhodesIt wasn’t the pot of gold or the luck charm that intrigued me the most about the visit from that strange little man the other day. It was the way he looked so familiar to me. His eyes looked somewhat like my father’s unworldly green eyes and his lips a tad bit like my mom’s. Like all of us in the family, he was short and had a lot of red hair. The puffs of curls under his black hat made it sit about an inch too tall and his bushy eyebrows, something of my father’s that annoyed him the most, must have bothered the short man’s eyesight terribly. His nose reminded me of my Uncle Doyle’s nose, big, fat, and full of tiny red spider veins like he’d been drinking whiskey for most of his life. Not to mention those round red cheeks, just like my Aunt Erin’s. There wasn’t a day that went by when she wasn’t teased about those rosy knots.I swear this little guy was a relative straight from Ireland but I didn’t know any of my Irish relatives. In fact, we are so far removed from any European ancestry that we don’t even speak any of the languages except for English—Americanized English. We’ve been here over 200 years and some parts of the family maybe even 400 years not including the lines of Cherokee we are supposed to have in our bloodline.Yet, all the same, it didn’t matter what I know or what I didn’t. He came into the house wondering where I had stashed his grandfather’s locket and I didn’t have a clue about what he was talking about.“Ye have me grandfather’s locket in ye pocket, fair lass,” he said, looking me up and down like I was a bottle of old whiskey.“I don’t own a locket and I haven’t the slightest clue who your grandfather is.”“Oh, he died many moons ago. Terrible thing, he was run over by six horses with a buggy. Back in his day, they didn’t have cars and the man who stole his locket was quite the horseman. He knew how to steer those horses wild to run over my grandpappy. Why I seen it with me own eyes. The hooves trotted right over his limbs, flattening them like pancakes, but what was really repulsive is when the hard wooden wheel of the carriage rolled right over his head. The damn thing exploded! Popped from both sides sending brain matter all over the crowd. Women and children were screaming and the men were shielding their families so they wouldn’t get blood all over their Sunday clothes. Such a shame. He wasn’t the most generous man in the world and he had some wicked ways about him–many that he taught me. All he had left was that damn locket that carried the secret to all the riches in the world. Now give it to me!”“Just how old are you?” I figured I’d ask and entertain the drunk. Obviously, he wasn’t even over 50 and was probably really good at telling tall tales to steal from people.“Trying to change the subject now, are we?” He puffed up his chest as best as he could probably trying to impress me.  “I’m 450 years old in human years,” he said as he eyed the gold chain with a small key amulet hanging from my neck that my grandfather gave me when I was 12.“You’re 450 years old, hmm? Look, I don’t have your grandfather’s locket, and I sure as hell don’t believe you’re 450 years old. Now get out of my house before I call the police.”He scoffed at me before turning toward the door, “I want me gold, lady. It’s mine and you will give it to me or else!”Before he could utter another word, I pushed him out the door with the heavy wooden door slamming behind him. As the door slammed shut, I felt my fingers tingle. Shaking them off as I would if my arm fell asleep, a strange golden mist appeared before me. I moving my fingers around in the air, watching the hypnotic glow form a trail before my eyes. It floated up the stairs and into my bedroom. As I followed, I felt the room moving around me as my steps grew heavy. Pinching myself for not wearing any trace green pm St. Patrick’s Day and trying to up the pace, I laughed