#RIME-TIME: The Gaslight (A Short Act)

A poem inspired by the film Gaslight (1940) that inspired the term ‘gaslighting’.

Writer’s note: Often films I see, or stories I read, influence the ideas I have when writing. I recently discovered the film that inspired the term ‘gaslighting’ (Gaslight, 1940) and [badum tss] decided to write something. I often get writer’s block, so poetry is short enough for me to get myself writing, but also get my creativity flowing again. This poem is the first one I have written in nearly 9 months, and I feel it may be simple, but one you can enjoy!

A windswept thief at night

A conniving murderer at dawn

my foolish anticipation of

endearing compliments

affections

adornments

colloquial turn of phrase

promising of love and adoration

Empty

The footsteps in my head

The dimming gaslight in our home

“perhaps i am mistaken”

(or suffering Stockholm?)

i could have sworn i saw him

Yell

Angry

Enraged at what i…

or perhaps

the gaslight is still burning bright

and i am (by myself) misled?

Thanks for reading!

If you, or anyone you know, would like to join us as: email us at girlonthebusza@gmail.com or send us a message on social media!

Chilling Quotes from Deadly Female Killers

“Like nicknames, archetypes can be useful organizational tools, but they, too, often end up suppressing more nuanced ideas of evil and darkness in femininity” – Tori Telfer, Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History. Disturbing quotes from some of the world’s most notorious female killers. Travel throughout history and discover the motives, the stories and the mystery behind these deadly women. (TW: this post deals with topics that are not suitable for sensitive readers. Reader discretion is advised)

🕸️“I like hurting people.” – Mary Flora Bell

🕸️“I killed them all, men, women and babies, and I hugged the babies to my breast. But I am not guilty of murder.” – Clementine Bernabet

🕸️“They didn’t even look like people… I didn’t relate to Sharon Tate as being anything but a store mannequin… [Tate] sounded just like an IBM machine… She kept begging and pleading and pleading and begging [for the life of her unborn child], and I got sick of listening to her, so I stabbed her.” – Susan Atkins

🕸️“I do not feel bad after killing anyone because I see it as a job I paid to do.” – Mariam Abiola


Abiola was an assigned hitman for the Eiye cult group in Nigeria. During her arrest in 2018, she confessed to the killings of at least 4 people. In an interview Abiola said: “I do not feel bad after killing anyone because I see it as a job I (am) paid to do.”


🔪“If you would gain a throne and hold it, fear not to make of human skulls thy stepping stones.” – Taitu Betul

🔪“I love the madness. Not when I was a little girl, but from the age of 15 I’ve loved seeing things fall down around me.” – La Diabla of Medillin

🔪“I just started shooting. That’s it. I just did it for the fun of it.” – Brenda Spencer

🔪“While my victim was drinking an elixir I had prepared, I got an axe, placed myself behind my victim and, summoning my strength, struck the back of her neck – a rattle, nothing else. … It was a master stroke that almost beheaded her.” – Leonarda Cianciulli

🔪“My husband Yury wouldn’t give me money for vodka.” – Irina Gaidamachuk


Given the nickanme of ‘Satan in a Skirt’, Gaidamachuk is considered one of Russia’s worst woman serial killers. She was charged with 17 counts of murder and 1 attempted murder. During her eight year reign of terror, she killed 17 elderly women in order to rob them. She would pretend to be a social worker so they would let her in to their flats. She would often kill the women with an axe or a hammer. Her motive for killing the women was to steal money for vodka. Gaidamachuk was an alcoholic, whose husband, Yury, refused to give her in fear that it would enable her addiction.


🧛‍♀️“I am a devil and I will burn them.” – Lillian B. Thornman

🧛‍♀️“I want my fun. I need you to get my fun.” – Joanna Dennehy

🧛‍♀️“I would sit on the balcony and talk to them in the flowerpots,” – Sabine Hilschenz


Hilschenz received a 15-year sentence for infanticide in 2006. She was found guilty for eight accounts of manslaughter, for routinely killing her children. She told investigators that she would not outright harm the newborns, but would leave them to die after giving birth to them alone. Investigators found remains of the infants wrapped in plastic, and stuffed in flowerpots, buckets and a garden fish tank. Hilschenz was an alcoholic, who admitted to not having her addiction under control. She would become incredibly drunk during labour, so as to not remember whether she birthed the babies alive or dead. Her husband, Oliver Hilschenz said in a police interrogation: “I thought that she had a weight problem,” and denied any knowledge of the pregnancies.


Reference: Unknown Gender History & All That’s Interesting

Thanks for reading!

If you, or anyone you know, would like to join us as: email us at girlonthebusza@gmail.com or send us a message on social media!

The 2020 Bus Ride: Our Year in Review 🚌

A review of everything we’ve done together on the bus this year.

2020 has been a wild (unexpectedly long) bus ride for all of us: we’ve hit lots of bumps on the road, but we’ve managed to have a little fun regardless.

This year we tried out, and added, a few new things: new, talented writers; new SPOOPY posts for October; posting once a week; lots and lots of poetry and short stories. It’s (semi-) safe to say that 2020 was our fullest bus ride yet and we’re super thankful for that.

To prepare for 2021, and the ideas we’ve got stacked up, here’s a review of everything we’ve done together on the bus this year.

P.S. Authors who do not have their own profiles on GOTB have Italicised names.

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We looked at lots of things we liked

Continue reading “The 2020 Bus Ride: Our Year in Review 🚌”

#HORROR-SHORROR: Shadow of The Night

Though bittersweet, this is the final installment for our month of spoopy!

E/N: Though bittersweet, this is the final installment for our month of spoopy! Let’s give a huge round of applause to these amazing writers👏🏼

I hope you’ve enjoyed these few stories written by our amazing spoopy writers, and that you continue to check out their posts in future. For more spoopy posts, check out the #HORROR-SHORROR tag.

Tara has never liked Halloween.

She detested everything to do with Halloween. As a matter of fact, she thought the entire concept was ridiculous. Who even decided to dedicate an entire month towards this charade? Her dislike included even horror movies – she thought they were just too nonsensical and predictable.

She was seen as the odd one out of her family, because her entire family absolutely loved Halloween, more than any other holiday. They constantly teased and pestered her with scary stories.

On the 31 October, after being assigned the duty of handing candy to the trick or treaters for the entire day, Tara couldn’t wait to get to bed and fall asleep. She was excited to see Halloween come to an end.

That night she got ready for bed earlier than usual, put on her comfiest pyjama’s and went about doing her nightly routine. When she finished, she got into bed, eager to fall asleep and wake up the next morning.

When Tara woke up again, it was because of a sound that she heard coming from downstairs. She sat up, a bit confused; she was usually a deep sleeper. The clock on her bedside table read 01:12 a.m. She decided to go back to sleep, but when she heard the noise again – louder this time – it made her jump.

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Frowning, she decided to check what the noise was. She got out of bed and slowly made her way towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, she opened the door; afraid she might make even more noise and wake everyone else up. But when she opened the door, she immediately froze.

Instead of seeing her brother’s closed bedroom door, as she was supposed to, she looked straight into a dark abyss…


Fearfully jumping, she slammed the door closed. She leaned against the door, panting. Her heart beating so fast she was scared she might go into cardiac arrest. She shut her eyes and repeated the words “this is just a dream”, and “wake up” several times. When she opened her eyes again, she let out a breath before slowly opening her bedroom door.


This time, however, instead of looking into a dark abyss, she was staring into a living room that looked to be abandoned. The furniture was dusty and covered in cobwebs. Though wanting to shut the door and just crawl back into bed, her feet carried her into the living room.

The door slammed shut behind her, giving her a shock. She ran back and pulled on the door knob, but it seemed to have locked by itself. She turned around and looked around the room. On the wall opposite her, she noticed a red handprint – walking closer to inspect it. A chill vibrated through her body and she realized that it was bloody. Slowly, the blood still dripped to the floor. She pulled at her hair and quickly backed away from the wall. 


What was going on?


A door slammed open, making her gasp. There, by the door, were stairs leading upward. Mustering up all of her courage, Tara slowly proceeded up the stairs. With every step she took, the stairs creaked louder and her anxiety increased. There was another door at the top of the stairs, but this wasn’t what made her stop dead in her tracks.

In front of the door stood a tall figure. He was cloaked in black and it looked like his feet weren’t touching the ground. That still wasn’t the scariest part, though. The scariest part was that his huge, glowing red eyes were looking directly at her. Tara turned around, preparing to go back downstairs, but, to her surprise, the tall figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs as well. 


She wanted to break down right then and there.


The figure approached her and she backed up, scared. He then stretched out his cloak covered hand. Seeing no other option, Tara put her hand in his. He led her towards the door further up the stairs, and she closed her eyes, afraid of what she’ll see.

The door creaked open and when she heard the screaming, her eyes snapped open. In front of her, lay a mass of soulless bodies, piled on top of one another. In sync, the corpses turned and slowly crawled towards her.

That’s when she realized that the dark figure disappeared. She frantically ran to the door and opened it but not before one of the corpses scratched her leg. Wincing, Tara leapt out of the door, only to fall into midair. 


She closed her eyes and screamed, but then plunged onto her bed. It was just a dream, yet it felt so real – too real. She could still feel the pain in her leg from where the corpse scratched her. Observing her leg, her heart started beating faster when she saw three deep scars with blood leaking out of them.

Footsteps were then heard coming from outside her bedroom and moments later her door slammed open and the dark figure entered her room, bringing a gust of wind with him. Tara screamed so loud, she felt the ground shake. 

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“Tara!” She heard her mom shout. “Tara, wake up!” Her eyes snapped open and she saw both her parents and her brother standing in her room. She noticed the scars on her legs disappeared, but she could still vaguely feel the pain. “Are you okay?” Her mom asked, concerned. Tara nodded, and mustered up a small smile.


“Yeah, it was just a nightmare,” she assured them. 


Yet, the entire time she spoke to them, she maintained eye contact with the tall, glowing-red-eyed figure standing behind her door…


Thank you so much to our writers and readers for supporting this spoopy month – I’m sure we’ll have more #HORROR-SHORROR posts in future! Now, it’s time to say goodbye to this month of spoopy, and welcome back out usual random quirkiness✨

Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.

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Cape Town, Western Cape
South Africa

#HORROR-SHORROR: The Killings of Everdale: Chapter 2

Here comes the second spoopy chapter of The Killings of Everdale.

To read The KIllings of Everdale: Chapter 1, click here. To read more spoopies, click on the #HORROR-SHORROR tag!

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Taken from Unsplash.com/@nbb_photos

Dried blood.

Why was there blood on my hands and better yet, whose blood was it?

Could it be Bruce’s? Mary’s? Could it be my own?

I frantically started feeling my body in search of any scratches or wounds that I may have had – nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Eileen asked as she looked up at me with fear in her eyes. “You’re scaring me”, she whimpered, her eyes glossy.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey. It’s just, something feels off about this.” I said questioningly.

“What?”

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“I don’t understand what you mean ‘off’. Do you mean that their deaths are questionable or how they died?” she said, starting to shake.

“That’s not what I meant.” I sigh.

“I just mean that-

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you all could be so kind as to leave the premises and go back home. I’m sure that we, as the police, can handle this without you all hovering around us”, one of the police officers announced through his loud-speaker.

“Let’s go, Eileen. We don’t need to stay here anymore. Let the police do their work, ok?” I said reassuringly.

She looked up at me and I could see the anger and sadness in her eyes. I could tell that my statement made her upset, but I didn’t have time for that right then.

“Let’s go”, I said sternly. She gripped my shirt and just nodded, that’s my signal to start walking.

We arrived at our house and Eileen opened up our door with shakey hands.

“Honey, about what I said earlier. What I meant to say was-

“I’m going to bed”,she said plainly.

“I meant to say that their deaths feel random and out of place, y’know?”

She stopped walking up the stairs and looked back at me. Her eyes looked emotionless and tired.

woman walking downstairs
Taken from Unsplash.com/@yxvi

“Andrew. I get it, OK? I get it. Let’s just go sleep and figure this out later on, alright?” she said plainly.

“What’s with the sudden change of emotions, huh? First you bite my head off for saying my opinion and then the minute I do say what I meant, you back off and all of a sudden just don’t care?! ” I shouted angrily.

Eileen carried on up the stairs and I ran after her. Pulling her back by her wrist, I pushed her against our bedroom door.

“Tell me. Is it something I did?” I asked her.

“Let go of me” she says, emotionlessly.

She kept her face turned away from me and kept trying to get out of my grasp.

“I said, let me go!”she screamed in my face, but I just tightened my grasp on her wrists.

“Eileen. Baby. Don’t be like this. I’m just trying to understand why you’re being like this over the neighbours deaths?”

I let go of her wrists and slid my hands down to hers, rubbing her knuckles reassuringly.

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“I’m sorry, it’s just – it’s just bringing up some stuff that happened when I was younger.” she said with tears in her eyes.

A tear rolled down her cheek and next thing I knew, she was crying again. I brought my left hand to the back of her head and pulled her into my chest.

She gripped the back of my shirt and carried on crying on my chest. I held her tighter and continued to just stand there.

Once she had calmed down, I brushed her hair out of her face and smiled at her.

“Do you feel better now?” I asked as I looked into her tired eyes.

She nodded and buried her face into my chest again.

“Let’s get into bed and sleep. We can just rest for the whole day and start unpacking the day after. Hmm?” She nodded into my chest and I just chuckled.

I opened the door and walked her backwards to the bed. We gently fell onto the bed and continued hugging.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image.jpeg

You forgot to wash your hands, Andrew.

Why are you still here?

C’mon, Andrew. *chuckle*

Shut up. Let me sleep.

What was that nonsense you sprouted about their deaths being random. You should know that you just did it because you found them annoying.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Of course it’s random. You just killed them after meeting them. How else is it not random.

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutuoshutupshutupshutp

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha or did you just say that so your wife wouldn’t suspect the other neighbours?!

SHUT UP!

Or did you say it, so that your wife doesn’t suspect you?

No, you’re wrong.

Am I? *chuckle*

What do you want from me? Just leave me alone.

All I want from you, is to give in to your desires. I know you want to kill everything and everyone.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no

Everyone… your high-school bullies, your alcoholic father, your absent mother, your dreadful parent-in-laws and, this also includes-

NOOOOOOOOOOOO! DON’T SAY IT!

your wife! Haha


To be continued…

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Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.

Cape Town, Western Cape
South Africa

#RIME-TIME: The Clouds II

I wrote The Clouds as a two part story/poem; perhaps I’ll continue their story when I’m not questioning my life amongst uni work (r.i.p). If you’d like to read more of the spoopy posts, make sure to check out the #HORROR-SHORROR tags!

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With October in full swing, I hope everyone is having a splendidly spoopy time👻. With that said, if you’ve read my article introducing this spoopy month, you’ll have noticed my sneaky insert of The Clouds I at the end (hehe self-promotion).

I wrote The Clouds as a two part story/poem; perhaps I’ll continue their story when I’m not questioning my life amongst uni work (r.i.p). If you’d like to read more of the spoopy posts, make sure to check out the #HORROR-SHORROR tags!

Without further ado, here’s The Clouds II:

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P.S: Because I’m extra, and because I can’t just write simple poems, it has some theological/over-the-top metaphors… please do not let this change your perception of clouds🙂

The Clouds II

A rumble

A rip

A screech, banshee cry

Dimlit terror, crackling smite:

brimstone to the believers

earthful bliss to the heathens

The Gods have awoken.

Come now, run

hide

“there is no escape”

The hounds will find you

blood curdling, sweat trickling instances

shrouded colourless to extinct your terror

I still find you.

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Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.

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Cape Town, Western Cape
South Africa

#HORROR-SHORROR: The Gravestone: A Short Horror

It had been a week since he had died – the police and coroner couldn’t come up with an appropriate ‘Cause Of Death’. This wasn’t humanly possible, for a man to have each of his fingers twisted around, his palms split in two, his face disfigured and his body… twisted like a soaked towel.

Taken from unsplash.com/@dibert

It was a cold winter’s day; the wind howling, trees rustling in the distance, the shadow of night approaching. But grief had a grip of steel on her heart and it wasn’t about to release her just yet.

It had been a week since he had died – the police and coroner couldn’t come up with an appropriate ‘Cause Of Death’. This wasn’t humanly possible, for a man to have each of his fingers twisted around, his palms split in two, his face disfigured and his body… twisted like a soaked towel. The police were unable to provide an appropriate report other than “disfigured corpse found in resident’s apartment. Cause Of Death is unknown”

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But she knew, oh yes she knew, what had mutilated her lover. She knew, because she had heard tales of the horrific beast – the evil spirit – the ghoul appropriately nicknamed “EL DESFIGURAR” “THE DISFIGURED.

“Known for mutilating victims in their sleep. By the time you realize it has you, it’ll be too late to cry for help. With the sound of creaking wood, the cracking of bones and the stench of decomposing flesh, the ice-cold hands of death gently wrap around your neck.

Once paralysed with fear, all you can do is watch in horror as your legs begin to snap backwards, your kneecaps bend inwards and your joints work like that of a flamingo. You’ll want to scream, but your throat will be laying in the palms of your hands. Your back snaps as your body twists like a wet cloth being strained, and finally, your fingers snap backwards, your palms split open, and death himself, will pity you.”

Taken from unsplash.com/@martinadams

As she sat there, mourning her dead lover, she heard the creaking of wood, the sound of snapping bones and got a whiff freshly decomposing flesh. Struck with fear, she snapped around to catch a glimpse of her dead lover before her – a bloodstained smile and sad pale eyes.

For a brief moment, it felt as though a sword had pierced her heart… and then he was gone.

Fear and adrenaline now filled her veins. She had to get out: get away from the madness, but as she turned to run, the shadow of night covered the sky, blocking out the pale light of the moon. A thin layer of ice-cold mist blanketed the ground.

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She heard it again – that menacing sound, echoing all around her. She needed to escape, but with no light to guide her, and a sickening feeling deep down in her stomach, she felt her way blindly through the graveyard, always stopping to listen for those menacing sounds.

She reached out one final time and felt something – it was cold, but firm, thin and… reaching out further, she felt more of them. She had made it towards the exit. Freedom was within her reach, but as she pushed against the bars, she fell to the ground. It was all in her head.

She sat down, tears flowing down her beautiful face, the tears warming up her face as the cold wind blew. Her lips dry, now moistened by her tears and layered thinly with the taste of salt. Helpless and alone, she got to her aching feet, and stumbled blindly through the dark once more.

Taken from unsplash.com/@8moments

She finally collapsed, exhausted, and stuck her head against a tombstone. Blood oozed out from her wound, but she didn’t care. She was too tired to pay any attention to the fresh wound. Then she heard it. Fear flowed through her veins. It was there. So was her newly deceased lover, who extended a mutilated hand.

She saw the smile he had on his face. Suddenly the moon lit up his face; she smelled decomposing flesh, heard the creaking of wood and the snapping of bones. She closed her eyes and within moments… she felt… nothing.

SADNESS IS OFTEN THE DEATH OF HAPPINESS.

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Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.

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Cape Town, Western Cape
South Africa

It’s time for a little Spoopiness 🎃

While the opinions surrounding celebrating Halloween vary, we thought it may be a good time for our #HORROR-SHORROR writers to take the stage and shine in all their glory.

Taken from unsplash.com/@sasotusar

With bright yellows, pastel blues and pinks, and flower patterns, it is time for GirlOnTheBus to take a darker turn – after all, October is Halloween Month. While the opinions surrounding celebrating Halloween vary, we thought it may be a good time for our #HORROR-SHORROR writers to take the stage and shine in all their glory.

Since October just so happens to be the month of Spoopy, we hope you will enjoy the few stories being told on this month’s GOTB bus rides (hehe I think I’ll coin this for the posts on GOTB). You can expect gory, bloody, gut-wrenching, bloodcurdlingly horrific stories and posts this month – no more niceness…

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But don’t worry, we’ll be returning to our quirky, chirpy, and bright selves once the October phase of our blog is over! We do hope that you will enjoy our #HORROR-SHORROR theme for this month, and that you’ll come out still sane afterwards😊.

If you, or anyone you know, would like to submit any poems, stories, drabbles, articles etc. for October-spoopy (or any other time) then please contact us, or reach us on our email girlonthebusza@gmail.com.

To kick-off this spoopy month, and end the annoyingly bright September, here’s the first installment of my poem duo, The Clouds, as a treat:

The Clouds I

Passing through the sky – jolly, merry.

A laugh, not a cry, not a waving goodbye

shaking hands “hey how are you”.

See you at the overcast!

Growing growing

cloudlets moaning

“time to go home”

… before the gods arrive.

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Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.