B. Rae “Rusty” Grosz
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braegrosz.com
B. Rae “Rusty” Grosz
@braegrosz.com
2.4K followers 870 following 1.5K posts
She/They. Greyromantic. Aspiring bog body. Writer. You can support my work via https://ko-fi.com/braegrosz.
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🤞🤞All the best for Benny from me and Chicory
Photo of elderly border collie, resigned to having her picture taken, although she would prefer not to
November 17, 2025 at 9:26 PM
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#WyrdWednesday #WerewolfWednesday Reminder that Prince Caspian is canonically bitten by a werewolf.
Photo of page from Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis, including an illustration that shows a chaotic fight with a werewolf attacking a boy and text that reads “… ‘And I see who your companions are—a Hag and a Wer-Wulf!’ The next minute or so was very confused. There was an animal roaring, a clash of steel; the boys and Trumpkin rushed in; Peter had a glimpse of a horrible, gaunt, gray creature, half man and half wolf, in the very act of leaping upon a boy about his own age…” Photo of page from the book Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis with text that reads “… ‘Is King Caspian anywhere?’ asked Peter. ‘I’m here,’ said a rather faint voice. ‘Something bit me.’ …”
November 12, 2025 at 2:50 PM
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Using the Cambridge dictionary definition, most of my efforts are disconcerted
Screenshot of Cambridge Dictionary website. Text reads: disconcerted adjective uk /ˌdɪs.kənˈsɜːt.ɪd/ us /ˌdɪs.kənˈsɝː.t̬ɪd/ worried by something and uncertain:
November 6, 2025 at 1:00 PM
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Actual photo of the travesty that was my dog not getting petted while she slept last night
Photo of elderly border collie sound asleep
November 6, 2025 at 12:45 PM
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Chicory doesn’t like having her picture taken, but she begrudgingly allowed this one yesterday
Border Collie side-eyeing her person for hovering over-protectively and taking pictures, instead of relaxing and basking in the autumn wind
November 1, 2025 at 9:14 AM
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"Forgotten," by me

published by Horror Tree's Trembling With Fear horrortree.com/trembling-wi...
Forgotten When she was thirsty, she was parched. When she found an old tower, hidden buried in the ground, the word that came to mind was oubliette. And she hoped, when the rain started falling through the opening overhead, that it would be a deluge. She laughed as she tilted her head back to catch drops on her tongue, but they weren’t enough. She opened her mouth again for more and more, until she no longer remembered that it was her own voice echoing off the stone walls, no longer remembered anything but deep emptiness and waiting, mouth open, for more.
October 31, 2025 at 6:52 PM
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Made a new friend yesterday
Headless guy in an orange and purple flannel shirt and jeans sits holding a jack-o-lantern
October 25, 2025 at 10:43 AM
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"The Demon Lover" by Frank Cowan, from Southwestern Pennsylvania in Song and Story (1878)

Isabel receives mysterious visitations at night... 🦇

Read the full poem here: archive.org/details/swpe...

#PhantomsFriday
Screenshot of an excerpt from a poem THE DEMON LOVER From ten, when she kissed her fond mother goodnight, Until twelve, Isabel, at the window has sat, In the shaded light's gloom of a still, curtained room, When lo! through the casement there flutters a bat! A bat, in a suit of the unseen at night, On a wing of the silence that will not alarm, When behold! in the gloom of the still, curtained room, The wing of the bat has become a man's arm!
October 24, 2025 at 2:31 PM
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One of my favorites from the #AScareADay challenge

In Everil Worrell’s short story “The Canal,” the narrator realizes too late the vampiric nature of the pale, beautiful woman who lives in the darkness of the canal. Read and listen to it here: pseudopod.org/2019/05/17/p...

#PhantomsFriday
Illustration shows a pale, eerie woman standing in a darkness swirled with bat-like shapes. A man clings to her feet. Text reads “The Canal by Everil Worrell” and below that is a quote “Loathsome shapes flapped through the night”
October 24, 2025 at 10:47 AM
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Yesterday's #AScareADay read was "Two in One" by Flann O'Brien. In this story, a taxidermist kills his boss, then makes a skin-suit out of him. However, his plan to masquerade as his boss and cover up the crime goes awry when the dead man's skin fuses to his own and becomes permanent. #WyrdWednesday
It was as I lay in bed there, shaking, thinking, and smoking, that the mad idea came into my head. No doubt this sounds incredible, grotesque, even disgusting, but I decided I would treat Kelly the same as any other dead creature that found its way to the workshop.
October 22, 2025 at 12:24 PM
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Someday, I want a tattoo of this Apple Tree by William Morris
Black and white image of “The Apple Tree” by William Morris, showing a lovely little apple tree in a leaf and floral circle, in a leafy square
October 22, 2025 at 10:39 AM
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I made art today
Gingerbread cookies decorated as ghosts, leaves, a bat, a crescent moon, a pumpkin, a jack-o-lantern, a gravestone that says “dead and gone,” a skull, and more ghosts
October 19, 2025 at 12:28 AM
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Are you a nerdy goth who likes hedgehogs? There’s a museum exhibit of a skull for that!
Museum exhibit of a small skull, labeled with a card that reads: European Hedgehog (Skull) Erinaceus concolor Ward’s Articulation 1892 circa
October 11, 2025 at 12:22 PM
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I managed to get one gloomy photo of my own during my vacation this past week.
Where the creek meets the lake. The water is low from drought, leaving more rocks exposed along the shores than usual, but above, the sky is darkening as a much needed storm gathers.
October 11, 2025 at 11:20 AM
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Newspapers tell of a hunchback peddler named Moses who disappeared in the Pennsylvania mountains. One of the last to see him was a young farmer's daughter. Years later, when she was grown and married, she moved into an old, abandoned log cabin. (1/2)

#PhantomsFriday
Clipping of headlines of newspaper article from The Morning Herald, Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, December 6th: SPIRIT OF MOSES A Tale of a Farm-house in the Alleghenies A Farmer Disturbed by Ghostly Visitations on Occupying a Mountain Homestead Near the Place Where the Old Hunchback Had Last Been Seen
October 3, 2025 at 3:11 PM
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from Faustina: A Fantasy of Autumn in the Heart of Appalachia (1888) by Frank Cowan

Please enjoy this poem about a slug
THE SLUG With lengthening uligineity, And tentacles protruding timidly, A slow-paced slug approaches my right hand Palm-pressed against a rotten tree-trunk—Ugh! Before it touches me, I feel a chill Anticipative in my blood and bones; As if I felt in fact, from out a shroud, The outstretched clammy finger of Decay!
October 2, 2025 at 5:23 PM
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the Molded Seafood Salad sees all
photo of Molded Seafood Salad — an eldritch abomination made of gelatin, water, frozen lemonade concentrate, ketchup or chili sauce, sour cream, and seafood that has been crudely shaped into a sort of sea monster form symbolic of an Old God whose name has been lost
October 2, 2025 at 1:08 PM
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In 1856, two young brothers got lost in the western Pennsylvania woods. The desperate search for the boys finally ended when their bodies were found, thanks to a man’s eerie dream. The Lost Children of the Alleghenies Monument stands at the site. Some believe the place is haunted.

#FolkloreThursday
Grainy, old, newspaper photo of two men and a child standing around the Lost Children of the Alleghenies Monument of short, white, marble in an obelisk-like shape, at the place near Bob's Creek in Bedford County, Pennsylvania where George and Joseph Cox's bodies were found
October 2, 2025 at 11:25 AM
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In 1810, Polly Williams was murdered at White Rocks in Fayette County, PA. Some say the rocks are still stained by the bloody fingermarks she left as she clung desperately to cliff-edge and that the place is haunted.

illustration from ROSE AND ELZA (1884) by Elizabeth Custead

#FolkloreThursday
Illustration depicting the scene of a high, rocky cliff in the woods — at the edge of the cliff, a man has his hands wrapped around the throat of a woman.
October 2, 2025 at 10:26 AM
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The murder ballad "Polly Williams" was one of many ways that people in southwestern Pennsylvania retold the story of the 1810 murder of Polly Williams in Fayette County.

#InternationalMusicDay

image from AMERICAN BALLADS AND FOLK SONGS collected and compiled by John A. Lomax and Alan Lomax (1934)
Sheet music for folk song "Polly Williams." Lyrics read "Come all ye good people, Wherever you be, Come listen awhile to my sad tragedy. It is of a young lady that was worthy of praise. At the age of nineteen she ended her days."
October 1, 2025 at 1:43 PM
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WITCH PLANS
[ ] master the Substitutiary Locomotion spell
[ ] fight the Nazis
Bayeaux Tapestry style illustration of a witch and a black cat flying on a broomstick, from the Disney film BEDKNOBS AND BROOMSTICKS
October 1, 2025 at 11:54 AM
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In Frank Cowan’s poem, “The Hoary Old Hero of Hell” (1878), living dead Phillip Rogers is cursed to hang forever from the cliff where he murdered Polly Williams — except when he is allowed a moment of rest to confess his crime as a cautionary tale.

#WyrdWednesday #BookChatWeekly
“Now, Christ thee save, thou weeping boy, Now, Christ thee save and see; For thou hast given, thro' the mercy of Heaven, A moment of rest to me! "A moment of rest to the living dead, Doomed, as I lived to damn! The Hero of Hell, it is said and well, For I Philip Rogers am! “Doomed to hang on the edge of the White-Rock ledge, Until the end of time, And know no rest, save when I attest To youth, the course of crime. “Ah, God! how many, many years In agony have I hung To the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, Where Polly Williams clung! “And felt that wretched woman's woe And the pang of her mother pain, Till the crushing stone has broken the bone And benumbed the dizzy brain! “And over and over and over again, With every hurried breath — With every thought in a phrenzied brain wrought, I have died her awful death!
October 1, 2025 at 10:23 AM
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from Faustina: A Fantasy of Autumn in the Heart of Appalachia (1888) by Frank Cowan

Please enjoy this description of dilapidation
In a Haunted House Passing a long reputed haunted house, The homestead sometime of a murderer, I make my way with difficulty through The matted growths surrounding, to the door: A rabbit darting from beneath the sill The moment I put foot upon it: and A pair of chickarees ascending to The roof, half affright and half in sport, Stopping betimes to wonder and berate. But neither ghost nor ghoul I find within, Nor aught to note of passing interest Save on a window-pane, surrounded by A little cloud of fungus spores, the corse Of a mould-murdered house-fly: and anear, A fellow doomed to die most wretchedly Fixed by fungus growing from its mouth! The while I turn, however, to withdraw, I suffer haply as severe a shock As if a gory goblin had appeared: My right foot passing through the oaken floor So colandered by termites as to be But little better than a paper shell!
September 25, 2025 at 11:34 PM
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Antifa c. 1943 (www.loc.gov/item/2002709...)
Black and white photograph of Woody Guthrie with a guitar that has a sticker on it which reads "This Machine Kills Fascists"
September 23, 2025 at 2:51 PM
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Chicory doesn’t like being photographed, so I take most of my pictures of her while she’s sleeping
sleeping Border Collie with tongue sticking out a little bit
September 22, 2025 at 1:16 PM