Now and Then

Considering that each recent, or not so recent, generation of humanoids is given a name to categorize those that are born in a particular time period, it is fitting that we review how meanings of words have changed.  These words are only a sample….do you have others?

The Millennial Generation                                   The Boomer Generation

Text as in sending a message                              Text are words written on a page           Download as in music/video’s                              Download..taking a crap.

Apps [as in download]                                             Apps….is this a mountain range somewhere?

Voice message, oh we don’t do that!                 Voice message when no one answers a phone

Quiche  as in hot looking                                         Quiche…….something for lunch

Tweet as in sending a message via Twitter         Tweet…..wasn’t it “Tweetie Bird”

Facebook a connection app                                    Facebook is a book with lots of photos

Trolling as in making critical comments             Trolling as in a group of walking Trolls?

On line….using one’s computer                              On line waiting to check out

My bad… apology  for a mistake                     My bad….. mispronounciation of my bed

sculpture yellow head





















































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It’s here….now on Amazon see djv murphy


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“Eerie Ghost Stories From Every State” [a preview] Book available in Spring 2019

via “Eerie Ghost Stories From Every State” [a preview] Book available in Spring 2019

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“Eerie Ghost Stories From Every State” [a preview] Book available in Spring 2019

                 eerie ghost story cover w djv murphy copy

                               Connect to the author on Amazon __________________  

                       Here are just two of the 50 ghost stories in the book.                                    



 Our dreams are firsthand creations, rather than residues of waking life. We have the capacity for infinite creativity; at least while dreaming, we partake of the power of the Spirit, the infinite Godhead that creates the cosmos.

                                                                                        Jackie Gleason  Actor Comedian


alligator night

               Death caused by alligators in Florida is a rare occurrence, but when it happens it grabs news headlines.  For example according to a report in Wikipedia, an alligator snatched a 2-year-old boy and dragged him under water in the Seven Seas Lagoon at the Disney World Resort.  His father tried to rescue him, but was reportedly attacked by a second alligator and forced to flee. His mother also witnessed the attack and tried to save him. The Orange County Sheriff’s office conducted a search and recovery effort to locate the boy’s body, which was recovered the next day.

            His body, which was intact, was found about 10-15 yards away from the location of the attack. It is believed that he was drowned by the alligator, which was 4–7 feet long.

        Some distance away are the Florida Everglades, a massive area teaming with wildlife including alligators and crocodiles.  Legend has it that in the early 1900’s a woman, after being attacked by both an alligator and a crocodile, slithered out of the water with no arms, eaten off at the shoulders and no legs, cut off at the hips. Her body seemingly covered with skin resembling the attackers.  Witnesses said she would only be seen very early in the morning just at day break, and would wait silently in the shallow part of the water’s edge.  She claimed more than a few victims, and was never caught.  Her favorites, according to the rangers in the area were other women.

            One in particular, Maud Seitz, a woman in her 80’s, was walking her dog along the shore when suddenly the womagator [coined by the rangers] started to grab her dog, but a witness said Maud hit the gator with her walking stick but then it turned on her and dragged her to the water’s bottom where she drowned.  Later, just the trunk of her body was found, washed up on shore with both arms and legs missing. Search teams were organized and daily hunts for this odd specimen took place for weeks but to no avail. The legend of the womagator ghost is still thought of as the Everglades worst nightmare.




“I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit together at the table of brotherhood.”

Martin Luther King Jr.  Civil Rights Leader

                          moon and tower savannah

                  Just as revealing is the story about the visit made almost weekly in the Colonial Park Cemetery by the ghost of General R.J. Beauregard, an up and coming leader in 1864 of the gray coats when he was secretly assigned to guarding the river port against invading blue coats. Beauregard, or as his associates called him ‘General R.J.’, was no slouch when it came to leading a corps of able bodied men.  He was highly regarded by the higher-ups in the Confederacy and was the owner of some 1000 indentured [as in slaves] men, women and children.

               When it came time to stand up to the first thrust by the blue coats in the river area, General R.J. was shot and his injured body taken to the temporary hospital set up by the Confederate Army. The surgeon worked feverishly to remove the splintered materials from the bullet, which hit a wooden stanchion before entering his body.  It was to no avail, as the General died that evening on December 1st, 1864.

                Just months before the war ended, General R.J.’s body was to have returned to his plantation, just outside Savannah, but mysteriously disappeared and was never buried.

             Some say the slaves on his plantation, who were freed after General Sherman entered Savannah, never saw the body.  Somehow in the crazy days after General Sherman’s march into Savannah, General R.J.’s body was misplaced.

              It is thought Union soldiers interrupted the transport of his body and brought it to the old Christ Church Cemetery [now called the Colonial Park Cemetery]; since that is place the army  bivouacked in December, 1863, even though no Confederate soldiers are believed to have been buried there.

            Now during the first week in December in the Colonial Park Cemetery, late in the evening, a white light is momentarily seen rising up from one of the unmarked graves and then hovering and moving in the direction of General R.J.’s former plantation.  Efforts to record the white light have failed, but those who have witnessed it, swear to its validity.  The mystery of what really happened to General R.J. Beauregard’s body remains to this day.

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The Fartster

In case you want a good laugh and/or trying to get an eight to thirteen year old boy to read a book….try this one!  The Fartster on

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SOUND OF MONEY Chapter Three

The Real Thing

What LW saw were Greenbacks……..U.S. Dollars in various denominations spread everywhere in the bowels of the plane!  Many of the bills were burned on their edges or just toast, caught in the swirl of the inferno and just disappeared as ashes.  But some appeared to be as fresh looking like they had just been printed at the U. S. Mint.

LW had never actually ‘seen’ loads of real money in his life as a money manager for one of Wall Street’s prestige firms. Although he had dealt with millions of dollars on a daily basis it was all digital plusses and minuses on a computer screen, almost like monopoly, without the paper money.

He quickly scanned the remains and figured there weren’t just thousands of dollars, but hundreds of thousands of twenties, fifties, and hundreds packed away in these metal containers.

“Jeezsus!” was the only word that came to the lips of LW  He kept repeating it over and over again, sounding like a born again Evangelist trying to bring the congregation to its feet.

“Oh My God!” He blurted out as he scanned the number of suitcase-like aluminum containers.

Some of the unopened ones had been ejected out of the cargo space by the plane breaking in half and landed more than 30 yards away onto his property.  Most of the other containers were lying next to the black plastic bags, which contained the ash remains of the pilots.  A contrast of images not lost on LW’s sensibilities

He counted at least ten cases that were unharmed in the crash.  How much money they contained would wait until later, after he had a chance to think. Someone somewhere must know that this money didn’t make it to its destination. Could it be drug money, mafia ransom money, political payoff money or perhaps one of the biggest banks heists in history?

Whatever kind of money it was; LW knew someone would eventually, come looking for it.  “Jeezsus Keyrist, what to do”?  He muttered to himself.

The normally unflappable man formerly known as William Woodshire III was beginning to come unglued.  The man who in his early life led a platoon in Iraq as a decorated Marine Captain, and someone more recently who dealt in the millions in a most stressful environment of high stakes gambling with other people’s money, was now on the edge of starting to come unraveled.

It has to be drug money he thought, no one hires a cargo plane to move currency like this if it was a legitimate business deal.  That is what banks are for……high tech movement of money through the banking system and clearing houses.   And then his suspicion was confirmed when he opened a few of the undamaged cases and found tightly wrapped plastic bags filled with white powder…….kilos of heroin

Drugs and money…….where was it coming from and where was it going?  LW pondered.

Okay, first things first.  I have to do something with the ashes,” he thought to himself as his mind raced with conflicting ideas.  “Graves, yes I’ll dig graves and hide them away somewhere not close to the cabin.  Oh that is not a good idea, what happens if the Feds or local police come looking and I’ve gotten rid of the ashes?  Won’t go over well with them,” he thought.

His mind was going back and forth with thoughts of the money, the bodies, the drug lords, the police, and the cargo plane and on and on.

And then there was the injured woman who was lying in his cabin’s guest room.

        “What a fucking mess!” he shouted to no one as he looked once again at the remains of the pilots lying on the ground.

LW needed information about this plane and the place to find it was the Internet.  Yes, he might be living in the wilderness, but he had a satellite connection, which kept him remotely connected to civilization.

He hurried inside and after checking on the woman in the guest room, he searched the internet for information on missing planes, plane crashes, and how to identify any plane that has been in a crash.

Then by chance, he found what he needed.

He went outside to check on the scraped and burned engines, which were still somewhat intact but the serial numbers were not legible.  He then looked for the orange Emergency Transmitter Locater and a cockpit voice recorder which most planes carried so they could be found if disaster struck.

The ETL too was burned and it appeared as if its antennae were broken off in the crash, which meant that it couldn’t send signals and therefore no one would know where it crashed. There was no cockpit voice recorder found either.

The tail section was intact and had a series of numbers beginning with “N” so he copied these down and went back into the cabin.

On his way, he wondered whether the FAA would want to know why he was inquiring and, more importantly, how long would it take for them to determine ownership or if indeed the plane had been reported missing.

        “So many questions and so little time” was his recurring thought.  He had to try, so he prepared a message to the FAA and his inquiry was such that it might have appeared he was just checking out a plane before purchasing it.

He was hoping there were maintenance records on this plane.  The owners would have to complete an FAA Form 337 if any major repairs were performed. Then LW thought more about it and decided not to send his message off to the FAA, and this was the beginning of a series of smart moves on his part.

What about the ashes and totally burned body parts?” He said to himself.

He checked the New Mexico and Colorado burial laws on the Internet and found that if the ashes are not buried close to a water source, then the burial could be considered legal. So LW started digging and just like the Mordecai character in the High Plains Drifter movie, he dug and dug until he couldn’t dig any more and then he changed his mind. “What the hell am I doing”?  He blurted out.

This thought kept running through his mind.  Twenty-four hours earlier his main concern in life was keeping his essential supplies up to snuff. Now his entire plan to just chill out and adopt a new life style had come to a flaming end.

He left the bagged remains of the pilots and began moving the ten metal suitcases to the secured shelter hidden well below the cabin, which took most of the day. He knew they would be safe there no matter what happened next. The other containers, which had been damaged, were left in the plane’s cargo compartment.  He didn’t try to open them.

LW thought that if anyone did come a knockin’; they would think that this was all the cargo on the plane.   Or so he hoped.

He kept checking on the mysterious woman lying in his guest room, who seemed to be either still unconscious or sleeping.  If she stayed that way much longer he thought he would have to get emergency medical help for her.  An action he hoped to avoid.

After dinner and checking the Internet once again for any news of a missing plane he went to the porch and laid down on the chaise lounge, feeling physically and mentally exhausted. He was tossing and turning still thinking about what to do with the bodies, the woman, and the money, the plane, the money, and the God Damn drugs!

Finally he fell asleep and didn’t awaken until 9:15 the next morning when he heard a blood curdling scream from the guest room.  Quickly he jumped up and ran to the room where he saw the woman sitting upright in the bed with fright written all over her face.

He tried to speak softly so as not to frighten her more but his heart was beating so fast that he exclaimed “Are you alright?”

The woman began to cry and put her hands up as to push him away, even though he was still at the door of the room.

“Por favor, ¡por favor no me lastimes más!” she said.

Having only a rudimentary understanding of Spanish, LW knew she was pleading by saying “please, please” but not the rest of her response.

Again he said “Are you alright?  It’s ok I’m not going to hurt you,” as he began walking slowing to her bedside.

He held out his hand hoping she would understand he was only trying to help her, but she continued to plead with him as she covered her face with the blanket, “No me pegues. No me pegues.”

This movement covering her face he took to mean that she thought he was going to harm her.

        “No Senorita, I won’t hurt you.  I am here to help you.” He said softly as he approached the bed.  “My name is Lone Wolf and I want to help you.”

He asked her name as she continued to cry, but now as she pulled the blanket away from her face, he noticed the numerous abrasions, which covered her neck, chin, and cheeks.  The hat she was wearing must have been protection for her forehead and hair.

Please Senorita, tell me your name?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, but just looked at him, still with a frightened look on her face.

LW left the room and minutes later brought back a glass of water and a dampened cloth and handed it to her.

She almost inhaled the water and placed the wash cloth across her eyes and forehead, leaving it there as she began to speak again in Spanish.

Mi nombre es Lucíana.” She said and then added “¿Dónde estoy? ¿Por qué estoy aquí?”

He surmised that the questions were about where she was and how she got there.

In a combination of English and Spanish he tried to explain that she was the only survivor of a plane crash, which fell onto his property two nights before in the mountains of New Mexico and Colorado.

He wasn’t sure if she understood him but she stopped crying and seemed to accept the fact that he wasn’t there to harm her, but to help her.

After thinking about how he was going to communicate with ‘Luciana’ he took his smart phone and opened the translation app and began dictating the situation they both found themselves in and how he wanted to help her.

He then played the translation to her in Spanish.  She got the look of complete surprise on her face as she listened to the voice speaking in Spanish from his phone.

He then tried to find out the who, what, when, where, why, and how about the plane crash and the cargo the plane was carrying before it nosedived onto his property.

So he tried to find out if she spoke any English.  “Se Hablas ingles?”  She replied, “Si, a leetal.”

He began to rattle off his questions and through her broken English he found out

that the plane had originated in Mexico, stopping somewhere outside of Las Cruces

where something terrible happened.  She told him the story from the time the plane

landed until it left the ground and started flying again toward its destination.


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Sound of Money Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The Mystery Unfolds

A ball of fire raged some 200 yards away from his cabin.  The wind was whipping fire red embers around like a devil twister and as they rose above toward the night sky they were being extinguished by the heavy rains.

Lightning would momentarily light up the sky and through the fog and rain he thought the fire was coming from a twin-engine plane.  It appeared to have broken in half and was spewing out its fuel to feed the raging fire.  It apparently had failed to make it over the ridge and crashed directly into the clearing on his property. As it lay there burning, melting the planes aluminum skin, it was slowly sinking deeper into the crater it had made upon impact. The fire was so intense, he could feel the heat on his face from where he stood on the porch of his cabin.

His immediate thought about whether he should call the authorities lasted about two seconds. He left ‘authority’ behind when he parted ways with civilization.  Anyway, he surmised, no one needed to be called now since there was a storm raging and rescuers would never make it up the mountain road, nor fly in by medicopter.

But what to do?

After an hour or so, the torrential rains dampened the area enough so that the fire seemed to be burning itself out not causing any brush fires near his cabin. The fog accompanying the heavy rain was acting as a retardant on the smoking remnants. He knew that was a good sign, as the woods were thick with high tinder brush growth, which had developed during the hot and arid summer.

He grabbed his rain coat and flashlight then cautiously approached the now smoldering debris, as the strongest part storm seemed to move toward the upper part of the mountain.

He stood there in a tempered state of wonderment trying to take it all in as to what had just happened.  He wondered if the plane had been hit by lightning and then took a nose dive into the area right adjacent to the large trees, which surrounded his property.

LW got close enough to inspect the remains of the plane and then became nauseous as he saw just ashes where the pilots would have been sitting in the cockpit. The bodies were burnt-to-a-crisp and totally unrecognizable.

But then through the mist he noticed a third body, which must have been thrown away from the wreckage and was now laying motionless on the grassy area still strapped into the plane’s passenger seat.

The sight was sickening to say the least.  Two fried corpses were sitting only 200 yards from his cabin and another body lying away from the main section of the plane. Nothing in his life experiences, even his Marine tours, had prepared him for the decisions he was about to make.

Should he wait until morning to find out what happened or not? He thought about going back to his cabin for the night, as his inspection of the wreckage found no other passengers in the cargo hold of the downed plane.

There was nothing he could do for anyone in the plane, and it was too dark and stormy to check for anything else. But then he heard moans from the person strapped in the passenger seat, which had been torn loose from the plane upon impact.

He rushed over to it, and the partially clothed body was that of a woman knocked unconscious in the crash.  LW took his rain coat off and slowly covered her with it being careful not to move her.  Her moans continued and as he began to loosen the strap in the seat noticed her hands and feet were bound with plastic handcuffs. He carefully unbuckled her and put his arms under her limp body and carried her to the cabin’s porch.  He laid her down on the chaise lounge and went into the cabin to fetch a knife, blanket and first aid kit.

The woman remained motionless as he tried to revive her with no success.  She appeared not to have any broken bones but did have a number of abrasions and contusions about her arms, upper body, and face resulting from being thrown out of the plane. He removed her remaining clothes and began cleaning the wounds as best he could on the exposed areas.

She lay motionless as he finished bandaging her and then carried her inside placing her on the bed in the guestroom. He sat for a while, watching to see if she moved, but she still appeared to be knocked out.

How ironic he thought, his first guest was an unconscious woman who was a survivor of a horrendous plane crash.

He didn’t sleep very well that stormy July night, tossing and turning like a wet blanket in a washing machine.   After finally getting to sleep, he awoke at the crack of dawn and quickly arose to check on his guest.

She was no longer moaning and appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He quietly left the room and peered out of the window.  He was hoping it was just a bad dream, but there in the distance he saw the pieces of a downed plane strewn about the area.

It was no dream.

Questions raced through Lone Wolf’s mind as he went outside to inspect the crash site.  ”What now? What to do with a crashed and burned plane?  Who were the two dead men in the plane and would the authorities be checking and coming to his quiet corner of the world? And who in the hell was the woman passenger? Why was she being held captive?” 

There wasn’t any obvious way to camouflage the remains of the aircraft although since it was near to some damaged trees, he could cut them and have them fall on the plane.  From the air, it would then look as if some trees damaged in a storm had fallen down.

Lone Wolf knew about this type of plane because one of his trading specialties was in airlines.  He knew the industry inside and out and identified the plane as a ‘de Havilland A CC-115 Buffalo’. This particular model of the de Havilland was used primarily for transport and was built in the mid-1960s.

But what was it transporting? His immediate concern however was what to do with the pilot’s bodies and the woman?  He then pondered, “Was there any way to determine who the hell they were….and where they were coming from and headed.”

Obviously there would be people on both ends of this aborted trip who would want answers to what happened to them.

And what about the cargo?  Later he would check to see if anything was left of whatever was being transported in this mid-sized plane.

So LW went back into the cabin to check on his guest.  She wasn’t yet awake but seemed to be breathing normally.

He made his usual breakfast trying to stick to a certain routine he adopted back when he was in civilization and didn’t want to forgo it because of what just happened.  With his mind racing he just stared at the food and couldn’t eat anything.

Still early in the morning with the sun rising slowly over the eastern ridge of mountains, which were miles away, LW started to develop his plan.    He began to come to grips with the immediate problem of what to do with the remains.

Pulling together his supplies; gloves, chain saw, and heavy plastic bags, he headed out toward the disaster scene.  His first order of business was to try and determine who these unfortunate people were who lost their lives the night before. It wasn’t going to be easy, as the bodies were burned to ashes including any ID’s. Then he found that all the plane’s identification papers, route maps and flight plans were all burned in the fire.

It was gruesome business, cutting the fire proof straps and scrapping the ashes from the cockpit, which had been torn open during the crash landing.  He placed each of the remains in the black plastic bags and put them aside.

If that horrifying experience wasn’t enough to shake LW what he discovered next was mind-boggling.

Scattered in the cargo part of the plane were shinny metal suitcases, some still seemingly in good shape, save for some dents and burn marks

Others Some of them were partially opened and some of the contents had partially spilled out.  LW stood motionless for a moment and then exclaimed, “What……the…..hell?”

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