Darren Griffin – Stories of Faith, Inspiration, and Laughter

Ahh, Halloween

     I’ve loved horror since I was a little boy.  That feeling of snuggling under the covers and reading a scary story, knowing that no matter how terrible and horrific the events became I was still perfectly safe.

     Every Friday night my dad and I would stay up late and watch monster movies.  This was before VCRs and long before DVD players.  The only way to see a movie on television was to stay up and wait for it.  It was an event.  My dad called it our “Night to Howl”.  He always made sure I didn’t get really scared.  If I started to get disturbed he would give the monster a nick name like: “Harry Larry”.  “Ooh, here comes Harry Larry again!  He probably just wants a shave.”

This is a little story I wrote some years ago about a creepy cabin. Hope you enjoy it.

THE CHAIR

 Rain pelted down through the leaves and drizzled down the bark of the thickly packed trees.  In a clearing, barely visible through the downpour and the occasional flashes of lightning, was a small shack.

     The hinges of the single door had long ago been eaten away by rust, and the door itself had crashed to the floor, giving itself up to a covering of rotting leaves which grew deeper each year. 

     There was a window on either side of the vacant doorway, the glass brown with accumulated filth.  The overall impression was as if two dim eyes, covered by cataracts, stared with a blind malevolence out at the world from either side of the black pit of a nose that had rotted away.

     Although leaves had blown in through the gaping doorway and made piles in the corners, no animals made their homes here.  No squirrels scampered and no birds sang.  In the rafters of the ceiling, where one would expect the occasional bat, lay nothing but emptiness.  It seemed that even the creatures of the night avoided this grim place.

     Lightning flashed again and thunder rattled the opaque windows.

     A black mound against the wall may have been all that remained of a bed and night stand.

     In the corner was a chair, seemingly untouched by the decay surrounding it.  A chair that a mother may once have rocked her baby to sleep in, or sang soothing songs at bedtime. The wood was worn smooth from years of use.

     Now all was stillness and emptiness.

     The sound of the rain was muted and barely audible. 

     In the darkness and silence there was a creak.  Then another.

     Lightning flickered.

     The empty chair, in the forlorn solitude and darkness, was rocking back and forth, back and forth.

Happy Halloween

Once upon a time there were two young people who came from very different places. Coincidently they both chose to serve missions for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Even more coincidently they were both sent to the Samoan islands.

Our little scene opens on the day that the elder had reached the end of his mission and was returning home to the states. The sister of our story was working in the mission office dealing with paperwork and things of that nature.  Enter the elder.  We find this young man in a panicked frenzy because he lost his passport. The sister joined the search (keeping her opinions of this young man to herself) and after much going through luggage, bags and everything else nearby, the wayward passport was finally found in his shoe. He continued on his homeward journey, and she continued her work in the mission office thoroughly unimpressed.

Let us fast forward a few years. We now find our two heroes attending a mission reunion where they meet again and oddly enough a relationship ensues. We then find them married, living in Idaho and, after some time, become pregnant. This is the point that I enter the story.

As everyone does when expecting a baby, they made preparations for the blessed event. A hospital was chosen, the LDS Hospital, a route planned, bags were packed and they were ready to dash out the door at the first contraction.

It is now a Friday night in September. One of the major networks is showing a musical (I won’t call it by name because of copy write reasons but there’s 76 trombones in it) in two parts, half that night and the other half concluding the following night, Saturday. This happens to be her very favorite musical in the world and since the universe has a sense of humor, it was during this program that the contractions decided to start. Now begins a battle of wills. The Contraction’s determination to push out a baby versus her determination to finish watching the first half of her musical.  She won.

As the show comes to an end, a mad dash to the hospital begins. Suddenly they found themselves on a one way street never before seen. This street led to another one-way street taking them to a maze of one-way streets. Eventually they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital.  The Catholic hospital.

The contractions continued to come although I did not. Fortunately the room had a television, and as Saturday evening rolled around she was able to see the conclusion of her musical.  Her roommate, also in labor, hopefully enjoyed the show as she really had no choice.

Now, I have several relatives whose birthdays are in the latter part of September and it was thought that my birthday would land on one of theirs, but I was determined to have my very own. I chose Sunday morning to make my appearance on this earth. This did a number of things. One, I have my very own birthday and two, my mother got to spend the rest of her life telling people (especially me) how she suffered for days bringing me into this world.

I suppose this is the point where I should tell you how much I weighed, my length, maybe put in a [picture of a lock of my hair. The fact is, I just don’t care that much, and I suspect, you really don’t either. 

In short I was a baby, and as such, I don’t remember much about it.

By way of being welcomed to the planet, I caught chicken pox while I was only a few months old.

And that was only the beginning.

Why a blog?

Just like you, throughout my life I’ve worn many hats.

I’ve been a singer, guitarist, songwriter, magician, ventriloquist, radio personality, commercial copywriter, voice over talent, television editor, multiple EMMY winner, published author, teacher missionary, hypnotist, father, husband, ex-husband, stepfather, grandfather.

Now, in this particular season of life, my time is spent with multiple health issues. I am experiencing what it’s like to be a crippled shut in. Being alone most of the time makes me ask the question: “How can I still be valuable to my fellow travelers though mortality?” The answer is this blog.

The stories of my life may be similar to yours, or maybe very different. It’s possible you will laugh, maybe shed a tear, and maybe find an inspiring thought or two. Regardless, I hope you will take this journey with me.