Julie Luongo

Here’s another story my mom used to scare me with. Well, to be fair, I used to beg her to read it to me over and over. She did. (I also begged her to play Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash for me over and over on the piano so I could sing it at the top of my lungs. She did that, too. Poor woman.)

So, if you have kids who delight in the morbid and depressing,  scare them today with this most excellent poem! (And learn to play a little Cash.)

LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE
By James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)

LITTLE Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun
A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!
 
Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,–
An’ when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wuzn’t there at all!
An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, an’ press,
An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an’ roundabout:–
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!
 
An’ one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an’ grin,
An’ make fun of ever’ one, an’ all her blood-an’-kin;
An’ wunst, when they was “company,” an’ ole folks wuz there,
She mocked ‘em an’ shocked ‘em, an’ said she didn’t care!
An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about!
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!
 
An’ little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,–
You better mind yer parunts, an’ yer teachurs fond an’ dear,
An’ churish them ‘at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

It’s the high-holiday weekend. So, enjoy. I leave you with this spooky story that scared the wits out of my sister and me when we were kids. It’s called, The Elevator Operator…

One October Lord Dufferin – the man who was to be British Ambassador to Paris – had decided to travel to Tullamore, Ireland. It was a long journey and when he arrived at his host’s home he immediately turned in.

In the middle of the night, Lord Dufferin was startled from a deep sleep, confused and disoriented. As his eyes were adjusting to the moonlit room, he heard a noise outside. He hesitantly got out of his bed and went to the window.

Lord Dufferin sensed something moving in the distance, but he couldn’t see for the trees and fog. And then a figure came faintly into view. It appeared to be a man with a hunchback. As he got closer, Lord Dufferin was able to determinethat the man was merely carrying something large on his back. He appeared to be dragging a large box, struggling slightly under its weight. 

Lord Dufferin watched as the man approached the house moving slowly across the lawn. As the man got closer and closer, Lord Dufferin pressed his face to the glass to get a better look at what the man was carrying. When the man was almost immediately in front of Lord Dufferin, he saw that the man was dragging … a … coffin.

Just as he made this startling realization, the man stopped, lifted his head, and looked straight into Lord Dufferin’s eyes. The man was gaunt with a drawn, ashen pallor. Lord Dufferin recoiled at the chilling site. When he looked back, the man was gone. But his visage was forever burned into the memory of Lord Dufferin.

He went back to bed, but had a fitful sleep, unable to erase the image of the casket-carrying ghoul. The next day Lord Dufferin asked his hosts if there was a graveyard nearby because he had caught site of the local grave digger, he suspected. His hosts explained that this was highly unlikely and suggested it was a nightmare brought on by his difficult travels. Later in the day Lord Dufferin, unconvinced, inspected the grounds for signs of the heavy coffin being dragged across the emerald lawn. But he found nothing. However, as the years passed, he convinced himself it was indeed a vivid dream.

Several years later, Lord Dufferin was at the Grand Hotel in Paris on diplomatic business. He waited at the elevator with small group. When the elevator operator opened the door to admit the passengers, Lord Dufferin looked into the face of the man he’d seen so many years ago dragging a coffin across the lawn in Tullamore.

Lord Dufferin backed away from the elevator and, in shock, watched the elevator doors close. Shaken, Lord Dufferin explained meekly to his companions, who had waited with him, that he wasn’t feeling well.

Surreptitiously, he watched the needle indicate the elevator’s ascent. Two. Three. Four. And when the needle was almost at number five, Lord Dufferin watched it spring back to its starting place on the ground floor. And he heard the screams of the passengers as they plummeted to the bottom of the elevator shaft, killing all of the occupants.

The investigation into the accident never yielded the identity of the elevator operator. The regular elevator operator had called in sick that day, and the man hired to fill in had just walked in off the street. No one knew who he was.

After Lord Dufferin retired, he told this story and repeated it often until his death. My mother read it to us when we were kids from a book called Strange But True, that had an illustration that is burned into my brain as vividly as I suspect the elevator operator’s visage was burned into Lord Dufferin’s mind. This story terrified us for years, which is why I still know it so well.

And to this day, if I ever get a murky feeling, and that illustration of the elevator operator pops into my head, I stop and back up a step or two, always just in the nick of time.

Happy Halloween weekend, friends.