California Craziness:

By J.E. Santa Maria

Freak accidents, ghost encounters, paranormal activities, and bandits are just some of the crazy things one might encounter once in a lifetime in the gorgeous but crazy State of California. These spooky encounters are based on true stories out of the Golden State. Buy you a copy and read on if you dare!

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.E. Santa Maria
• Release date: Aug 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201457167

Book preview

A novel

By

J.E. Santa Maria

California Craziness: California Craziness First edition. July 23, 2022. Copyright © 2022 J.E. Santa Maria.

Written by J.E. Santa Maria

Illustrations by J.E. Santa Maria

All rights reserved.

To Grandpa Louie – RIP and thank you for telling me the family history.

To Grandma Connie – I love you to the moon and back!

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We’re all mad here. You’re Mad. You must be or you wouldn’t be here

_____Cheshire Cat Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Dear Reader,

Supernatural events have been scientifically investigated and legitimately recorded by heavy hitting three letter government agencies in places like Skin Walker Ranch.

With that in mind, all of the stories told in this book are based on true events. While some of these tales are loosely based on true events... others... are entirely true.

Some names and locations have been changed out of respect for privacy and to protect the identities of real people.

You are cordially invited to read on and enjoy seven stories that explore the bizarre, spooky, and disturbing.

Chapter 1

A Stick with 3 Nails, Please, and Extra Splinters

This horrific happening happened sometime in the 1960s in Pico Rivera.

If Lulu ditched her things she could cut across the dirt lot, jump the fence, and be at either her Grandpa’s and Grandma’s or home within a few minutes. She stopped looking backward.

No. What am I thinking? I’m probably worrying over nothing.

The young man on the bike didn’t turn around. She let out a breath of air she didn’t realize that she had been holding. She loosened her death grip on her books. Lulu picked up her pace regardless. There was that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as if someone reached inside her and yanked hard on her guts. Then, he rode his bike past her—again out of nowhere. He looked back at her and almost road into a dirt mount, his bike fishtailed a bit and he looked forward and regained control. It was almost comical if the whole situation wasn’t so—unnerving. Lulu shielded her eyes.

The sun was stinging the exposed skin of her neck. She shuddered but was not sure if it were from nerves or the bead of sweat rolling down her back, between her shoulder blades. The scent of sap from lumber and churned dirt was riding on the breeze as she started passing the construction site.

Almost home. What the hell is wrong with this creep? Okay, just five more minutes.

Lulu was just 12 but blossomed early. She had long athletic legs. Her calves poked out of her purple cut-offs and she absentmindedly played with one of the purple frayed strings of the shorts. She had toned muscles from swimming, skateboarding, and softball league. The hair on her arms and legs was still blonde and small so she didn’t yet start shaving them off—it felt as if they stood up. The young man turned and peddled towards her—again. Lulu had a tan from being out in the summer Sun, the very same Sun that was blinding her right now. She moved her red hair behind her ear. Lulu shielded her bright green and hazel eyes, eyes that turned into sunflowers as the iris shrunk from the sun. She could better look at the guy as he closed the distance.

That young man, no younger than 17 no older than 21, peddled lazy as he made carefree zig-zagging wide loops on his bike.

Oh no.

For sure, he was heading her way—again.

At first, out of politeness, she nodded her head and offered a half-smile. Upon first glance, he was very cute. She felt flattered and a bit ecstasy that a big kid was checking her out. But, he had been following her for maybe 5 minutes now and this was about the sixth time that the young man circled her. The screech from brake dust on the rims of his bike made a rude sound that almost mimicked a fart. He stopped very closely right in front of her, blocking the path. Lulu stopped because she did not want to walk right into him. Lulu was annoyed at this point. But, the annoyance gave way to an icy feeling of fear.

This time Lulu did not break eye contact with him and she studied his features. He had the face of an angel, except for a small patch of red pimples which seemed to be clearing up on his right cheek. There was one white head that she knew her cousin would salivate at the chance of popping. On top of his head were long flowing Prince Charming-like locks of thick black hair the color of fine soil. He was clean-shaven, which might explain the pimples—a case of razor rash.

Despite being about 6 feet away snorting sounds came out of his open mouth as he breathed deeply. Upon his torso sat a sweaty but brilliantly clean white t-shirt. He had very nice blue jeans with an abalone belt buckle and a scorpion encased in some sort of resin. He had very nice boots,

Could they be Doc Martens?

He flashed her a nice smile with a movie star-like perfect pearly whites. Lulu didn’t smile this time. The guy grinned and Lulu just stared blankly at him. The smile induced a disturbing sensation radiating from her chest outwards—she imagined the sensation being akin to a spider sac bursting open and tiny brown recluses crawling all over her torso.

His grin was overly smiley, ear-to-ear, those thin lips spread so wide. Lulu imagined that those lips would keep stretching so tight they would rip wide open and stain those perfect white teeth yellow with fresh blood. She imagined then, that his teeth would turn brown and start decaying in real-time. Shaking that grotesque thought out of her head, Lulu traced an imaginary line to where he was staring.

Lulu lowered her bag, which had her brown corduroy jacket, a book, and the envelope that was full of the babysitting money she had earned that week. She lowered the bag down to cover up her crotch from the stare of this creep. The guy didn’t like that one bit and sneered. He looked forward and peddled fast. Lulu’s footsteps almost sounded like a jog in her ears now. She heard that snorting coming from behind and imagined the young man’s head transforming into a severed pig’s head floating behind her. His breathing was very loud now as the creep cut her off and rode away again. Lulu calculated.

If I turn around then there is no one back that way for about half a mile. I would have to make a large circle to double back to the main road. It’s better to walk straight this way. Grandpa and Grandma’s and my house aren’t far away. He has a bike and it wouldn’t do him any good on the dirt and rocks from the construction site. Should I run across? He’ll catch me if I try to run away on the street. I can’t outrun a bike. What should I do? Just go straight. It’s almost over.

In the 60s, you could not just pull out your cellphone and call 911, because cells weren’t yet invented. She thought about screaming. But, it’s not a crime to stare at someone though rude.

Yeah, Mr. Officer. He breathes like a pig and followed me. He might look pretty like some Richie Valens Rock Star, but his smile is creepy. Yeah, they’d say, Big case you have here Ms. Gomez. We’ll take him in for riding his bike in your direction!

Lulu became even more uneasy. Adrenaline pumped through her system. She felt her stomach twinge a little. Her heart fluttered and began to race. Her tongue brushed against the roof of her mouth and it felt like sandpaper. The creep had turned his bike around and pedaled her way slowly, then fast, and then faster. She tried crossing to the other part of the street but he adjusted his course. As the creep passed he reached out and grabbed at her chest. She raised her hands just in time to block his offending grab.

Her bag fell to the ground along with other goodies that she had just bought. She was knocked off balance. Lulu landed hard on her rear and her eyes clamped shut tight—her teeth clicked together. She felt a sensation both numbing and exhilarating from the adrenaline now pumping through her veins. Her legs and arms felt as light as a feather. She spun around on her knee and looked back at the pervert. He was 30 feet away making a U-turn. She anticipated another attack. She rose to her feet unsure of what to do. She wanted to cry.

You’re not a baby or little kid. Don’t act like one and start crying!

Looking down at her knee, she could see 3 scratches and a thin blood bubble forming. Her mood went from fear to anger; her icy feeling of fright turned to steamy red hot anger. Her rage was like a bad cut leaking out onto snow melting it and creating a mixture of crimson and steamy slush. She looked for a rock to throw. But, what she found was even better.

Lulu acted as if she was just picking up her envelope and paper shopping bags. She concealed her new weapon by turning quietly and placing it between her bags and her chest. She got up and ran—hard. Lulu didn’t feel the thing scratching her as she ran. She didn’t see it dirtying her shirt. Hell, the girl didn’t even feel it biting into her palm. Lulu just saw the road ahead of her bobbing up and down as she ran full speed.

She must have seemed like easy prey for the pervert. She the young girl did not scream at him—didn’t even say anything for that matter. From behind, Lulu must have looked even more pathetic, running and holding her bag, as if she was hugging herself for comfort. He stood up to peddle faster. Like a lion galloping after a mute mouse. The perverted predator raced towards her closing the distance between him and Lulu with every turn of his wheels and pump of his legs. He was breathing hard from excitement and peddling. He sat down to be able to grab another part of the elementary school girl. The bike made that loud fart noise as he applied the brakes. Lulu was able to ascertain how far away he was from the obnoxious sound of his brakes.

She dropped her bags. She then stood with her left hip facing toward him, feet shoulder-width apart, her right arm parallel to her body to hide her secret weapon. The Sun was at her back and in his eyes now. She could see clearly that there was no use in running. He was coming for her. It was going to happen.

He was about 9 feet away. The world moved in slow motion. She was tunnel-vision. She looked at that pimply part of his cheek. He was 6 feet away, now. The pimples on his face reminded her of the thick red laces of a softball—one floating towards her at perfect speed and height. Lulu felt the grainy splinters and nails sliding one by one over her skin as she let the medieval-looking carpet tack strip slide through her hand. Lulu held it in place when she could feel that there was the perfect amount of weight and balance—she tightened her grip. She kept her body relaxed and breathed in and out deeply. Raising the tack strip in one fluid motion she quickly eyed it to make sure the pointy nail-side was facing outwards. She raised it as if ready to make a grand slam and gripped the bottom of the tack strip with her other hand. She imagined an announcer saying,

"Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the bottom of the 9th and Lulu has three balls and two strikes. Bases are loaded. The score Pig Pervert 2 Lulu zip."

But, this was no game. Her dignity, body, and maybe even life were on the line. The young man never took his eyes off of her crotch area. He extended his right hand towards her waist. He was 4 feet away. Lulu picked her left leg up and swung with both her arms and turned her hips with all of her might—keeping her eye on his eyeballs.

The tack strip bent backward like a palm tree in gale force winds and snapped forward like a spring-loaded mouse trap. Three nails and two tacks broke the skin on his face just below his temple, popping that solitary white-headed pimple, and then sunk in deep. Her little metallic friends began raking across his molars and gums pulling apart his flesh. His face pulled violently to the right from the torque. His inertia met with an immovable force and his facial muscles and skin were the paths of least resistance for the galvanized pieces of metal. The nail and tacks kept ripping, kept tearing, and kept opening up the side of his face, ripping through flesh and muscle down to the bone.

The stress and torque became too much for the wooden stake. It snapped in two sending splinters and slivers of wood everywhere along with saliva, blood, and bits of enamel. Reflexively grabbing his cheek with both hands caused the Creep’s handlebars to turn a sharp 90 degrees. The Creep flew across the bike butt over teakettle landing on his shoulders and rolling over his head making a dust cloud.

He began writhing and rolling on the ground cradling his new orifice. He had a second mouth now on his face that started at this temple, across his cheek, and ended at the corner of his lips. His scream was high-pitched, gurgled, and slurred. He slammed his fist on the ground spouting curse word after curse word like the Pazuzu in that movie The Exorcist.

As most sociopaths do the pervert cried victim,

Why’d you do that for? I’m going to kill you! Chunks of pink and red flesh from his cheek swung loosely as he spoke saliva mixed with blood gushed from outside his hands. He tilted his head back and screamed out loudly. He collapsed into the fetal position. He only stopped screaming to take in breaths and choke while scissor-kicking his legs creating a miniature dust storm.

My face! Oh, it hurts so bad! Ouchy! Ou-wee! I’m going to kill you! You little b...

Not believing this was an idle threat and not wanting to find out, Lulu bent down to pick up her bags—couldn’t leave them behind—and ran as fast as she could to her home. Her hand was bleeding badly she did not notice or would care until later. She looked over her shoulder but The Creep didn’t follow her.

She finally reached her home. She burst through the door and slammed it shut. She locked it. She brought her hand to her face, it smelled of blood, sweat, and Ozone.

Daddy! she screamed.

Chapter 2

It Pays to Be a Good Man

This terrifying tale takes place in the 1850s somewhere East of San Diego.

Everyone in the village said that my great, great, great, Tio, Señor Bernardo Santa Maria, was a good man. He was not too tall. Not too handsome. Not smart like a doctor. No. But, he had a heart of platinum. He was too kind, too empathetic, and too stubborn but in a good way—something rare in that, Miserable seaport town, where people were too poor to move away. If the residents who had wanted to stay behind and tough it out could move away they would toss the deed to their land over their shoulder without as much as a second glance. However, Tio shined as a light on a hill in the many ramshackle villages he’d pass through. He had many friends indeed and almost everyone knew him.

People would come to him with secrets and gossip, rather than peddle in what he called,