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Saturday, 9 December 2017

Perchta the Hidden One



The season of Yule is better known as Christmas to the vast majority of people. It's also called the Winter Solstice period, when some just worship the movements of the sun and look at the seasons changing as a divine thing. Many pre-Christian and pagan beliefs celebrate this time as a season of both the Winter Solstice and the birth of the new gods. It can be celebrated in many ways, or be a time when people called out for the sun to please come back. There are many forgotten pieces of Yuletide that I want to touch on without going into too much heavy research. There is a lost celebration or tradition in the December/Winter period that honours the Light Goddess.
In ancient lands now Germany, France, Netherlands, Austria, Britain, Channel Islands, ect people understood that it was a time of the goddess of the sun, warmth, fire and the light. She was called "The Hidden One". Her name is Perchta or Bertha, depending on where she was found. Sometimes she resembled an old woman, and other times a beautiful snow-white maiden. Linked with spinning and weaving, and swans, snow and winter sunlight, this mysterious hidden goddess spends most of the year inside dark forests and caves. She emerges in Winter.
This goddess is said to watch over children in Winter and check to see if they've been well behaved. The notion that kids will get presents from Santa if they've been good, come from this belief in the Hidden Goddess, she watches people. Now most modern parents have started a new Winter trend of using toys or "Elf on the Shelf" to monitor children and how they behave. The idea of watching children being good or naughty derives from the centuries old tradition of people of most households telling kids to "mind how they behave" because "Perchta is watching them".
If children as well as servants have been well behaved, she'll reward them with money, food, gifts and even clothes. If not, and people have been bad, she was said to cut people open and fill them with pebbles as a form of punishment. This hidden goddess was feared because she was cruel if anyone stepped out of line and resorted to badness. She cared about people enough to study how they worked, to find out what people ate on certain days and to see how they acted towards others. She didn't want people to offend her. She stuffed people with straw if they didn't eat the proper food on certain feast days. Foods that people should eat are fish and gruel. Anything else was said to be a great offense. Her days were the twelves days and she was part of Winter time. 
Today you'll find celebrations of the hidden goddess of Winter. It's called Perchtenlaufen. People in Austria recognise this and regard Perchta as a "witch" who appears after midwinter in January who tortures people. Many on this festival wear creepy and scary monstrous masks to scare away Perchta.
She's linked to the Wild Hunt and associated with the Norse goddess Frigga. It was the goddess Frigga who originally gave presents to children and poor people in ancient times during the Winter season. It was said that Mother's Night is based upon the coming of Frigga and the goddess of maternal love. In Winter, children who were afraid of the cold, dark and threats of predators, hunger and illness, sought the comfort of the loving and nurturing goddess when their own mothers were poorly, dead, or just suffering as anyone else. It seems likely that the church demonised Perchta and made her into an "ugly witch" that cuts people for being naughty. Like with all goddess worship, the church has demonised plenty other goddess, gods and divine animals. However, the ancient and primitive beliefs that all went with the arrival of Perchta, the Hidden One, remains there to this day. Now it is transformed into Santa and his elves, the christmas tree fairy and the ice maidens in pretty clothes found in Russia (Snegurochka) and Disney (Elsa and Periwinkle).

Links:
Frau Perchta the Terrifying Christmas Witch
The art above is by Anne Stokes

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

Gloom Girls Project: Saint Olga

This is a project about demonic ladies, iron maidens and evil queens. It's the opposite to my "Golden Girl Project" series that I made years ago on this blog. Golden Girls is all about ladies of light. The Gloom Girls Project is about ladies of darkness. Obsidiously evil and dangerous by nature, they're cold blooded as they're so vicious, tainted and cruel. Each post will focus on one such lady of gloom. 
 
Saint Olga

A woman has never been so vicious and yet revered by the Church like an angel as Olga of Kiev. When a person that lived in her time heard her name, they fled to the hills. But given a sainthood that she was but she was far from being a sweet angelic saint. She was a demon.
Olga was born in Pskov, Russia, sometime during the late 9th Century CE. Her family were Varangians, a Viking people living in Russia. Little else is known of her childhood. As a teenager, she married Igor I of Kiev, son of Rurik. Olga and Igor had children togaether. Igor was butchered by the Derevlians, a Slavic tribe, and his son, Sviatoslav I of Kiev, became his successor. Sviatoslav was very young and his mother, Olga, was regent until her son was turned of a certain age. Olga wanted revenge.
She pretended to look for a new husband and requested that Derevlian men show up.These men would be treated with much dazzling kindness, they would be given food and rich clothes, and arrive to the castle in splendid little boats for each man. Olga had her own people dig a deep trench in the main square of the city. After the Derevlian men arrived sailed into Kiev, they were met by people who carried them in their boats across the streets. Then the Derevlian men were flung into the deep trench, and were buried there alive.
Olga needed to visit Dereva and requested an escort. She wanted the Derevlian Prince Mal to send some of his best warriors to escort her. After the Derevlian warriors arrived, Olga insisted that they bathe themselves before meeting her. The men were escorted to the bath house. Then they were locked inside and Olga had the bath house torched and burned. All the men inside were killed.
Olga needed to pay her respects to her late husband so she went to Dereva's city Iskoresten. Upon her visit, a party was held in her honour with a great banquet. She gave out the finest of alcoholic drinks. Those at the banquet were Derevlian warriors and they all became extremely drunk. So drunk were they that Olga had them all slain.
Olga made war with the Derevlians. Her forces were powerful and the citizens of Derevlia were suffering far too much hunger. Olga wanted each household to send three sparrows and three pidgeons to her, so the Derevlian people agreed. They were wanting to end their pain and misery and succumb to Olga, wanting to please her so that she would be their queen regent. What Olga did next was have her armies attach sulfur dipped rags onto each bird, and have each one lit. The birds returned to the houses where they had nests. By then, the birds were on fire and every house burned to the ground, killing people inside. The next thing she did was visit Constantinople and there she converted to Christianity.
Olga is now a saint.     
    

Saturday, 2 December 2017

The secrets of Calypso


Calypso was a nymph. Her mother was Pleione, a sea nymph, and her father was called Atlas, who was a titan. She’s been nicknamed “The Hidden One”, “Deceiver” and “to cover up”. She hides on her island, Ogygia. that is shrouded. Interestingly, her island means “Hell” in English as it comes from the Greek καλύπτω word. Why would a nymph live on a hidden island that means “Hell”?
 Before I go into that, I’ll explain that Calypso appears in Greek myth as a character in Homer’s “The Odyssey” saga. She kept Odysseus as her own prisoner play thing, and stopped him from completing his quest. Some accounts say she got pregnant by Odyseus and had a son called Latinus. The gods had to come to Odysseus’ rescue as his mission was important as well as Penelope, his wife, left all alone and missing him. Time went by considerably while he was on that island with Calypso.
I don’t think Calypso meant to deprive Odysseus. She was lonely and fell in love with him. Odeysseus couldn’t stay with her and that hurt her. The island she lived upon as a hermit goddess nymph was said to be almost exotic. It was full of lush plants, trees, flowers, animals, and also a burning fire in the middle. There were caves too. Why was it called “Hell” in ancient times? In etymology, the word hell just originally meant to describe a place of “fire” and “light”. The hearth in the island.
Ogygia was thought to be connected to Atlantis and might’ve been a fragment of the lost continent. Many can’t place where Ogygia is, some say it’s in Egypt, but many believe it’s part of Malta. There is a mythical and real cave called “Calypso Cave” found in the island of Gozo. Also Gozo is termed the “Island of Calypso”. Malta is said to have mysterious structures all possibly linked to Atlantis.  
Much of what we know about Calypso is in Greek myths and legends. I will share some interesting bits of factual details about what I've mentioned so far.
Details of Ogygia
Maltese myths and legends 
Underwater temples
I wanted to add something else too. Calypso seems to be linked here with Malta, Hell, Atlantis and a veiled island. Is it possible, hypethetically, that Calypso was able to create mist herself and cover up her island? Was she a magical being? Does this show any clues to the lost Atlantis island? With all the words involved, Hell/light/fire/hearth, then veiled island/Malta/Gozo/Atlantis, could be more than just a story. Was it an island or was it a very large ship such as an ancient ocean liner? Floating islands themselves are often icy drifts. Was Calypso's island an ice berg? It was said in the Bock Saga that the name Atlantis is a gathering of root words that meant "A Land of Ice". Snow and ice do reflect the sun and moon intensely. The word "Hell" wasn't fire then but ice, and it certainly is full of light. 
Floating green coloured plant rich drifting misty islands often appear in fresh water and bogs. Such islands can be artificially created such as shown HERE in the Biomatrix Water site on floating islands. These islands are small and delicate. They're not the same as Calypso's island where animals and people could live upon for the rest of their days. 
So it's my guess that Calypso did live on an island where she shrouded her palace in mist but also she travelled the sea on a beautiful boat. She was able to mystify and enchant even that. This myth proves to me that Calypso was a travelling nymph. Her incredible island could be Atlantis. Or a link to it. Or was she just a sailor who lived on the island of Malta? Could she also be somewhat connected to the British Isles and it's legends of small islands such as the Isle of Avalon? Avalon is a magical lost island, sometimes a land of spirits, shrouded in mist. It features in Arthurian legends and Celtic mythology. 
Interestingly, Avalon is the Isle of the Blessed, or Isle of Apples. There are myths of the Apples of the Hesperides and the Apples of Idunn. The Greek myth of the Hesperides positions this location in the far north (of Europe). This place is a beautiful garden with special gold apples all protected by a monstrous dragon and a group of nymphs called Hesperides. These Hesperides are daughters of Atlas the titan. Atlas is also father of Calypso. Calypso is a half sister to the Hesperides. They were nicknamed "Daughters of the Evening" and "Nymphs of the West". Goddess Idunn is a protectress of the golden apples in Norse myth. 
Island, mist, apples, spirits, sea, hell, light, fire. Calypso didn't guard the sacred golden apples. She was a queen on her own island and a seductress. She knew magic. She offered Odysseus to become immortal so that he could stay with her on the island but he refused. She kept him as her prisoner for seven years. To make him immortal she would need to have something that would alter him. Her half sisters guard the golden apples. She uses her own love charm s to keep Odysseus under her spell. Is Calypso not just a tale of a nymph but also of nature itself? What keeps a hero from doing his mission and finishing the job to head back home? Either magic or illness. Was Odysseus lured there to be a prisoner of Calypso? Or was he badly wounded and Calypso was just healing him? Calypso is a type of nature goddess and healer. 
Is she the Greek version of the Norse goddess Ran? In Norse myth, Ran is said to capture sailors and take them to her caverns. Ran's domain is said to be an island that is considered bright. She keeps men also like Calypso does. I wonder if perhaps Calypso and Ran are the same goddess? It's not strange to find "migrating" gods and goddess all over the world. Ran is said to be ruler of the watery afterlife and also linked to the lost lands sunken in the sea. There was an island in the North Sea that sunk. It's been called "Atlantis" by some and Doggerland by others. 
Conclusion:
I don't think Calypso meant to harm Odysseus. She was healing him but also she enjoyed his company and fell in love with him. Calypso let him go eventually when the gods had to intervene. Calypso is a nymph and goddess of the sea. She lives on an island shrouded in mist and mysteries. She's got links to Atlantis. If that could be the same Atlantis as told by Plato, then is there more to this? Calypso comes from an older time, long before ancient Greece. She's a relic of the prehistoric past when there were islands that don't exist by the time of Classical Greece. Her Norse counterpart is the goddess Ran. Calypso's sacred animal is a dolphin. She's the embodiment of the feminine ocean and a gentle, smaller being that is closely linked to light, purity, water and healing.  

Tuesday, 28 November 2017

Meet the werewolf ladies


Hail and merry meet.
This is a page dedicated to all of my BFF werewolves called Fenrir's Daughters. I wanted to make a portal page to each of these werewolf girls telling their tales. These werewolf characters are fictional and more fantasy than horror. They were created and written by me. I hope you enjoy reading about them. I don't own any of the pictures per Fenrir Daughter page although if you know the artists let me know. Drop us a comment. No spam please.

Abigail Star
Tara Blaze
Zareen Tehrani
Poppy Darkmoon
Kat Howlite
Snow-White Winterborn
Larissa Blue
Masika Rage
Marielle Ice
Scarlet Rose
Chandra Stripe
Jewel Helva
Honey Cicatrice
Ophira Shadow
Crystal North
Diana Bloodstone
Emily Phantom
Fiona Biter
Zircona Troix
Cherie Ironpaws
Selene Hunter
Fallon Garnet Fang
Urielle Foxglove
Grace Vilkshimmer
Tammy Violet
Bailey Shadow Fen
Wendy Terror
Lucy Ghost
Izel Coztic Cuetlachtli
Sandra Echo Amber
Indigo Fury
Cara Lunar
Hunra Al-Qamar
Vanity Alba Lupa
Charlotte Ombre
Emily Moonstone
Sarah Belladonna Lobo
Sheba Cherika
Abigail Jet
Trina Spaka-Zvezda
Blossom Prowler
Opal Yaksha
Lianna Sangmond
Nancy Lupin
Azalea Terrorbark
Tanzy Bright Moon
Ruby Starblood
The Blaze Sisters
Haru Mun'ookami
Zoe Glacier
Darcy Faoiltiama 
Estella Wild
Bella Ochre-Woods
Frostine Blackthorn
Gwenda Nightshade
Jasmine Greywolf
Rochelle Moonbeam
Ruby Dominicanis
Princess Valencia
Wilone Blackwolf
Sapphire Wolfmoon
Maria Storm
Pamela Hattidottir
Sienna Skollblod,
Emily Mustard
Chen Tiangou
Helen Chartreuse
Pearl Chono (Part One: Childhood),
Pearl Chono (Part Two: The First Time)
Pearl Chono (Part Three: Pearl Sword)
Veronica de Poison 

These stories were all written by me and I own them, please contact me and ask for permission to use them. Also give credit back to this blog She Wolf Night.

Monday, 27 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death portal page


This is my story "The Bounty Tax of Death" links page.
This is a supernatural short written by Rayne and it's about a teenage boy called Seth who wants to learn how to be better at a game, but encounters a strange man who is a teacher of a mysterious place called Obsidion School. A dump of a school in the empty deralict ruins of a long abandoned church, in a made-up town called Backwater. Seth doesn't like going there, even if it's just for a couple of hours once every Friday, because the other students in class at the Obsidion School give off a terrible smell and they look bad. 
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten

This story was written by Rayne in 2017 and also the image above was created also by Rayne. Please show some respect and ask for permission to use the picture and post my story. Give credit back to this blog, She Wolf Night.

Saturday, 25 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 10)

"Help!"
Seth backed away and he was stopped by a tombstone. The bodies continued to crawl from out of the dirt, and the smell was just too overbearing. He covered his nose.
Mr Thantos lifted the scythe and stared at Seth with a look of hatred.
"Seth! I will own your soul as I possess every other you see!" Shouted a raging Mr Thantos.
Then with a flash of lightning, the tall hooded figure removed the scythe from Mr Thantos and pulled him into a shadowy opening by the church. Mr Thantos screamed as he was dragged through the mysterious door, and then both Mr Thantos and the hooded figure were gone. The shadowy door was nothing more than just a shadow cast by night.
All of the bodies that were rising from the graveyard soil collapsed. In a puff of smoke they were gone. Seth could only see his fellow Obsidion School students standing there, staring at him.
He swore at them.
"Help us, Seth," Belinda said.
"Yes, help us find the door in the wall," said Paul Forester.
"We're stuck here," Mark Bucket spoke up.
"Mr Thantos kept us all trapped here," Tammy said.
"He bricked up the door and we can't get out," Dan said.
Seth looked around at all of the rotten corpses, many of who were disappearing in smoke and dust. The smell was fading. But his group of weird classmates were there, pleading with him, and he could barely take anymore of this madness tonight.
"Paul!" Seth looked at the one who had been his friend and even chatted to him in Backwater High. "What's going on with you, Paul? What aren't you telling me?"
Paul stepped forward, and looked sad.
"Sorry, Seth, I wasn't totally honest with you. I've been dead since 1968. I had an accident and all I know is that I need to go through that wall. I'm stuck here. In this town."
"You're a ghost?!" Seth laughed. He couldn't believe it.
"Only you could see me. You're the only one who can see us, Seth."
Belinda moved closer to Seth, and she wiped tears from her eyes.
"I passed away in 1766," Belinda told him.
"So is that your grave?" Paul asked, pointing at the headstone that said: "HERE LIES BELINDA STADELL 1748 - 1766".
"Yes it is".
Seth backed along the tomb and tried to turn and run but he felt paralysed.
The others each told him of their deaths and how every one of them were buried in this churchyard. Mark Bucket died of the Black Death plague in 1430. Dan died in 1850. Tammy died in 1993.
Mark ran. He ran behind the church to find a way out and get away from them all. But he came to a place in the wall that he didn't notice before. There were fallen bricks, revealing an opening. Soon, the others, Paul, Belinda, Tammy, Dan and Mark appeared, seeing this new broken wall.
"You found it!" Paul said, "Thanks!" They all ran through and Seth stood there, and he looked. All of them had disappeared into thin air.
Weeks passed and he was celebrating his birthday. His mother organised a party and allowed some alcohol and she prepared the food buffet. The house filled with more than 40 people, friends and associates, as well as friends of his siblings. He answered the door. When he opened it, he saw a stunning girl in a white dress smiling at him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She gave him a blue box and said:
"Happy Birthday Seth, you're the true grim reaper." and walked away.
"Hey, come back!" he called out. It was too late. She was gone.
He wondered who she was. Her eyes were green hair was golden. He opened the box, and inside he found a sweet smelling little cake in the shape of a skull. A note inside read "To Seth from Belinda".
He ate it. The cake was chocolate and ginger. Belinda. He got up and ran to the door, and he pulled it open and sped along the street, looking for the girl. He couldn't find her.
Then from the shadows a man staggered with a bottle of whiskey, smelling of death.
"Lad?" the man asked. "Can you show me the way into the wall?"

The End

Story by Rayne 

Friday, 24 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 9)

In no time, without thinking for a second, he ran straight passed Mr Thantos. He pushed open the door so hard that it collapsed to the floor. The door was very rotten. It was only a matter of time for that to fall.
"Seth! It's your time to die!"
Seth ran from the dreary school and outside into the yard.Then he stopped.
Right up ahead of him were the others. They all stood there in a row staring at Seth.
Dan Cartwheel, in his dusty ruffled shirt and tailed jacket, high riding boots and jewels on his fingers. His eyes were more sunken, his lips were black. Tammy Chain looked as if her skin was peeling off her face. Mark Bucket was more decayed than ever before, with red and black sores on his face. The lovely deadly Belinda, her cold green eyes and grey pallor, her golden hair full of grass.
And Paul Forrester, wearing his glasses, cleanly dressed in jumper and chequered trousers but his face gaunt and covered in dark spots.
"Paul?" Seth asked. "Whats' going on?"
Paul shook his head and looked downwards. A sadness crept over Seth.It couldn't be, surely?
"Are you all..." he started.
The door behind him crashed open and Mr Thantos waved the scythe in the air.
"You will DIE Seth!" Mr Thantos yelled like a monster.
Seth couldn't run because the other students formed a tight blocade. He instead ran into the graveyard. There had to be a place to hide, and he found the church door was boarded up. He legged it behind the church and stumbled a few times over the graves, running and weaving himself between the headstones. Then he came to the wall enclosing the back of the graveyard, and he ran alongside it, looking for a way out. He found nothing. He came to the front of the church, and saw to his complete horror, Mr Thantos standing by a tombstone, scythe raised.
"What do you want?" Seth asked, panic stricken.
"Your life. I want all of your souls!"
Just then, the students crept through the graves, and stood staring at Seth. Then, to his disbelief, bodies were crawling up from the ground. Skeletons, decayed bodies, mummified corpses, all of them in a severe state of decay and everyone looking at Seth.
"Oh no!" Seth cried. It was a nightmare beyond nightmares. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have listened to Paul Forrester and Mr Thantos. He should've stayed home and gone to play no matter how useless he was at Bikeball.
And the moon appeared behind a cloud like a burning skull.
Standing there behind Mr Thantos, stood a harrowing sight. A figure that materialised under the moonlight. Standing about seven feet tall, a black hooded thing. Only utter shadowy darkness showed where the face should be under the hood.
Seth turned very cold and lost his ability to stand. He dropped to the ground. All around him was death and darkness, madness and evil. The smell extremely vile.
To be continued....

Story written by Rayne 

Thursday, 23 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 8)

Story by Rayne, genre is Horror
(...continues from Part 7).

The sky was gloomy. It was so dark that his solar watch didn't spin. Watches, spinning toys and solar powered gadgets was all the rage. His bike used to have solar poweredtoys attached that helped him light up in the dark or indicate to cars where he was planning to turn. It was removed when he started playing Bikeball. Now without his bike, all crushed and useless, dumped on a heap in a tip, he could only walk to his two schools. But he didn't wanna!
He decided to travel with his scateboard to Backwater High and tonight to the class in Obsidion School. He zoomed there, and planned to ask Belinda why she sent him a bunch of flowers. It embarassed him. In front of his family too. That was too much and he didn't know her. Belinda was quiet but she looked grubby and smelled. She wasn't his type.
He arrived on time. Mr Thantos was at his desk, reading. Seth took a seat at the back, again as usual. His favourite seats were always at the back.
He stared at the walls, the table, chairs, ticking clock, the pitch black view of the window. The flickering candles. The cracks on the walls. Cobwebs! The grime and condensation like blood on walls and doors. The dust piled in dunes in corners. Cobwebs that looked ancient crossing over the other seats.
The place looked more terrible than before. Where had all the dust and grime come from?
"Sir?" Seth asked. An hour passed. Mr Thantos just read, and no one else had turned up yet.
He cleared his throat and asked again and louder. "Sir!"
Mr Thantos slowly looked up.
"Seth?" he asked.
"Where is everyone?"
"They're not here today. It's just you and me."
Seth sighed. "I should go," he said.
"Very well, but have you learned anything yet from my class?" Mr Thantos asked.
"No".
Mr Thantos stood up and lifted his cane. He looked at Seth with his cold pale grey eyes and he seemed terribly old, far older than he used to appear. Perhaps it was the effect of the candles.
"Seth, do you know why you're here?"
These guessing games were growing very boring. They were dumb questions.
Then, the cane in Mr Thanton's grasp altered. It had to be a device. It now had a severely sharp metal blade at the top, and resembled a giant knife. Seth lifted his skateboard and slowly moved away from his desk, looking at the door to escape.
"I don't plan to use this against you, dear boy!" Mr Thantos said. "It's a scythe. It's what I use in my work. Farmers used to work with one of these to cut the grass."
Seth wanted to run.Mr Thantos and his giant scythe was too close to the exit.
"Do you know who I am, Seth?"
"A lunatic?"
"No," Mr Thantos said. "I am the Grim Reaper".
To be continued...

Story written by Rayne Belladonna

Wednesday, 22 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 7)


Story by Rayne, genre is Horror
(...continues from Part 6).

In Backwater High, Seth found Paul Forrester in the school library. It was during lunch time and after having a burger in the canteen, Seth felt like going to visit the library and find out what he can about the old graveyard near the dump Obsidion school place. As he was looking at the books on Backwater History shelf, Paul made his appearance known.
"Hi, what are you doing here?" Seth asked.
"Just coming here to study for maths," Paul said. "and how come you're in the library?"
"Is it obvious that I don't read books?" he laughed.
There was nothing much in the school library that would tell him about Obsidion School and the neighbouring churchyard. It was Paul who spoke to him that made Seth want to return to Mr Thantons' class again for a third try. He contemplated dropping out of it.
"Next we finish class with Mr Thanton, I'll show you the village behind the old church," Paul suggested. It was news to Seth. A village?
It was on Friday evening that Seth struggled through a boring session, listening to Mr Thantos. And trying not to breath the smells pouring off Mark Bucket. Indeed, Belinda, Tammy and Dan stunk also today. Seth volunteered to open a window but it was jammed. He ended up burying his nose in his sleeve. When he looked at Mark Bucket, he saw that Mark's nose was ink black, like the way his fingertips were also black. There was something not right. Was Mark diseased?
Belinda, if that was the same Belinda whose name was on the headstone, had very sunken eyes and her pallor was more green. She had red sores about her lips today, and on her hands and near her ears. Was this a virus? Was it contagious?
He looked at emo girl Tammy, whose snow white goth skin was pockmarked with grey spots and boils. Her nails looked bloodied. Her nose was bright red, and cracked. He felt cold.
Then he looked at Dan, whose often dandy fashions didn't stop him looking greasy and pale today, with purple lips and bloodshot eyes. He looked closely when he saw a movement in Dan's hair. It was a worm. Seth got up in panic and fled from the room.
He ran outside the building and coughed. Paul followed him out.
"Are you alright, Seth?" Paul asked.
"We've gotta go! The kids are ill and they stink as..."
"Mr Thanton told me to come after you, we can just leave class for now."
Paul and Seth went into the old graveyard and Seth showed him the old headstone.
"That can't be the same Belinda," Paul said. They moved along, and came to a ten foot wall. No gate or passage led through it.
"That's odd," Paul said. "I'm sure there was a door leading into the village behind that wall."
"It doesn't matter," Seth told him. "We'll check for a way to the village by using Google maps."
 "No, I'm certain there was a door, I know there was."
They left the vacinity of Obsidion School, and by the time Seth reached home, Paul had taken another route to his place. He had had enough of Obsidion School. But telling his parents he was quitting the extra class would make an arguement not worth it.
Indoors, a bunch of white flowers was displayed in a vase on the living room coffee table. His mother was never really a flower person. Did dad give it to her as a present?
"Whats the flowers for?" Seth asked his mother who was cooking a pie.
"It was delivered this afternoon when you were out," she replied. "It's not for me, Seth. It's for you."
"Eh?" Since when did boys get flowers?
He looked at them and felt queasy. This was one of his bike frinds playing a joke, as they'd done before, making him believe a girl fancied him by leaving silly cards and notes.
"Well then chuck those flowers in the bin!" Seth said.
"Oh they're pretty, you don't want to throw away your romantic gift."
"It aint a bloody romantic gift! The lads are up to their old tricks again."
"No, Seth," she told him. "A girl named Belinda came over tonight and said these are for you."
Seth stared at his mother and couldn't believe it.
To be continued...

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 6)

Click to view larger picture

Story created by me, continues. Story genre - Horror

...Continues from "The Bounty Tax of Death" Part 5... The second day of the class, one week later.
Seth found it boring again, and couldn't understand the significanc of it. He wondered whyMr Thantos asked him there and most of all, should he discontinue going anymore. He learned just about nothing. It was as boring as watching paint dry. As dreary as listening to his dad and he old friends discussing politics.
He got to know the other students better, although oddballs as Mr Thantos was.
Belinda Stadell was always wearing old fashioned dresses and had some leaves in her hair. He felt drawn to her, because of those green eyes and her intense flower smell that was almost sickly.
Paul Forrester was the geek of the class, in wide rimmed specs and always in those golfer style clothes. He also attended Backwater High school but in the brainier class.
Dan Cartwheel was a sombre and moody character dressed in black with these pretentious ruffles and laces. He wore riding boots and sometimes arrived at school looking like a goth.
Tammy Chain was the other girl in class. She was a definate emo who did her make-up so thick, had studs along her eyebrows and lips and nose. She had black painted nails and a rose tattoo on her right forearm. She wore black clothes, and she stank of toilets and hospitals.
Now there was Mark Bucket. He was the dirtiest and foulest smelling kid of the class. He was the most smelliest peson who Seth had ever encountered. He had to hold his nose when he was near Mark. The poor scruff had very long hair all tangled in dreadlocks and grass, mud and leaves, just like Belinda. Except Belinda wasn't as filthy or smelly. Mark wore these shapeless huge shirts and baggy clothes with pointed leather shoes. Mark spoke as if he had a frog in his throat. Another odd feature of Mark was the boy's black fingers, as if he'd dipped them in paint and never washed it off.
Seth was about to leave at the end of class, when Mr Thantos called him.
"Next week, you'll learn what I'm trying to help you with," the teacher spoke.
Seth was dimissed. He went outside and watched Belinda walking away through the old graveyard. He could kill ten minutes just out of curiosity and follow her.
He walked through the gravestones, and saw Belinda stop. He waited, and then he blinked. Belinda was gone, He rushed over and came to where she had been standing. A gravestone, not so clearly marked in old faded writing:
"HERE LIES BELINDA STADELL 1748 - 1766".
(...to be continued)

This story is by Rayne.
Image was designed by Rayne using Lunapic.  

Monday, 20 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 5)

There wasn't many students in the class. He counted just five of them.
Seth took a seat behind them at the back of the classroom.
Mr Thantos had not yet started the session, while he was reading some ancient looking book. It gave Seth a moment to look around, at the very place that he still couldn't believe where he was. He wondered how he got himselt into this. The classroom itself had bare walls, bare bookshelves, and moth eaten curtains. It was so dark, but several candles were lit.
Of the kids, he counted three boys and two girls. He'd never seen them before and not even seen any of them around in Backwater. They must be from out of town.
Mr Thantos closed the book and started talking:
"We all have heard of the economy, but what about the affairs in Africa? Does any of you know about the corruption of the union of governments in history? Do you know about the financial crisis of the national banks? Any of you aware of the currencies of each nation and what is owed in debt?"
Sigh. Another boring lecture. How is this meant to help Bikeball techniques? He knew he shouldn't have come afterall. Seth picked up his rucksack and stood up.
"Where do you think you're going, Seth?" Me Thantos asked.
"I've just remembered homework".
"Sit down, this once. I haven't even begun. What you're about to learn is far more helpful to you than you know and it might just improve your own school work".
Seth had low grades in school mock exams and finals. He didn't do well so how did Mr Thantos know this. Perhaps he was shared his records by his other teachers. Seth sat down, but if this lesson is going to be all about politics then he's not staying.
Mr Thantos started chalking on the board. The writing was very small, and he started to get bored. The other students only sat watching Mr Thantos, and looked straight ahead.
He observed each other kid. They were all about his age group. Two of the boys looked as if they've never bathed in months. The other boy wore a strange looking conical hat and he had very long brown hair tied back in a ponytale. One girl seemed like an emo, and another girl was wearing an old fashioned long dress.
Mr Thantos finished.
"None of what I told you matters," the teacher said, and he held his cane. "Everyone is going to die."
Huh? Seth sat up and wondered if he heard that right.
"Everyone will eventually die," Mr Thantos said. "It's a fact of nature. Cruel as it is. Unfair as it is. People weren't given a choice.The golden apples of immortality are reserved for the gods. Do you all know who they are? Yes, Belinda?"
The girl in the long dress had held up her hand. She answered in a soft voice. "They're people," she said, and her large green eyes glittered. Seth looked at her as she spoke, and he noticed in her long blonde ringlets were bits of grass and leaves. When was the last time this girl brushed and even washed her hair? he wondered.
After an hour of listening to Mr Thantos talking about gods, death, immortality, Seth didn't feel the wiser in knowing how to beat his friends at the game of Bikeball.
It was over. Everyone got up. He looked at Belinda, and she looked at him. Her skin seemed a strange hue of grey, and there were dark rings around her eyes. Her lips were black as liquorice. Seth felt a chill pass down his spine.
He left the room, dissatisfied with the lesson.
"Seth!" Mr Thantos called out. "It's important you return next week!"
"Okay".
Outside, Seth could see the lights glowing from houses and street lamps. It was so dark, and so cold. He pulled up his hood. Where did everyone else go? No one was there, but he left the school with the others. Only, Belinda was hurrying off to the left, towards the deralict church. Perhaps she walked through that as a short cut to her house via a creepy route.
That night, Seth couldn't get out of his mind the thoughts of death, and money and politics. It was annoying him. He ate something from the fridge, and his parents were out having a meal. His siblings in bed. He was usually the only one awake at the hour of 11 p.m. but sometimes mum and dad would go on date nights. Leaving him or his siblings alone.
He decided to watch a horror film. And while he watched it, he was sure that he recognised Mr Thantos appear on screen. I must be tired, he thought.
...to be continued.

Story by Rayne.
Above image made by Rayne using Rinmaru graphics

Sunday, 19 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 4)

(Story: genre - Horror)

The walls appeared strange. He went inside and looked closely. Bones. The walls were covered in them. Ribs, mainly. And along the corridor were animal skulls that were enormous.
"What is all of this?" Seth asked, feeling a little freakd out.
Mr Thantos closed the door and stood, holding his cane with composure.
"You," Mr Thantos said "are looking at the fine works of my youth. I made all of these from clay and resin. I did it in the likeness of the skulls themselves."
Seth studied one such skull nearest to him. It was full of sharp teeth with a head almost as big as a car. He looked closely and the bone seemed real and not any form of fakery. He didn't want to argue with Mr Thantos now, it was his school. H wanted to know how he can win Bikeball. The last thing he needed was to argue with his would be trainer.
Bones didn't matter. They were just animals.
Mr Thantos lifted his cane and at the top was a shining blue stone. Seth didn't see it before but then he never looked closely at Mr Thantos or his cane. He didn't even like being near this stranger. He felt a cold breeze and a girl walked passed him, with her hair all matted and her long dress tattered.
He saw Mr Thantos talk to a boy for a short while, and even the boy seemed out of place.
"Is this some religious school?" Seth asked Mr Thantos after the boy had rushed off.
Mr Thantos shook his head.
"No, it isn't a religious school. We do accept children of all faiths here in Obsidion School. Our students come from all walks of life."
Sounds fair. Seth wasn't from a rich family, but they weren't religious. If the school doesn't mind where he comes from then he might enrol on this teaching of Mr THantos.
"Okay, I'm in" Seth agreed.
"Good, so I need you to sign a form. Just turn up every Friday evenings from seven until ten at night. At this very site."
Mr Thantos produced an envelope with a form inside. Unsealed.
"Don't you need my parents to sign this? I don't know how much it is."
"No need to worry about that yet, you can sign it as you're already interested in the programme. It will just take a few seconds. Paying is no issue. It's a free course."
"Wow!" Seth thought. It was too good to be true.
Mr Thantos gave him a pen and Seth scribbled his own quick signature on the line at the bottom, without reading any of the terms and conditions. Mr Thantos was grateful. Seth was free to go.
As he left the building, he turned round and looked at the school. It seemed to be so deralict and rotten in appearance from the outisde but inside it was full of activity.He just needed now to get a new bike and he'll be on his way to beating his friends at Bikeball now, with a secret class in being better at sport. (...to be continued)

Story by Rayne

Saturday, 18 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 3)

(My story: genre - Horror)
 
The Obsidion School looked like a very grim place. A mass of brick and mortar, with a crooked appearance. All of the windows looked dense with grime, cobwebs and some cracked. The roof had moss and even twigs shooting up through the chimney. The air was electric in the school grounds.
Seth had never come to this place very much. It was in a dead end part of Backwater, next to thick woods and an abandoned rotten church with blackened headstones, all now overgrown.
It was a free school for "strange kids" as everyone told him, including his parents. He attended the local secondary school, Backwater Green High, at the other end of town. But this place, Obsidion school, was a tip. It was a real dump. The only people that lingered near this place sometimes that he saw on his bike journeys were vagrants and tramps. Once the police had arrested some drug addicts here as was mentioned in the Backwater newspaper and that was the only exciting thing that happened to Obsidion School.
The front door was huge. He couldn't find any buzzer, so he used the brass beastly door knockers to bang three times. He waited a little while, and the door opened in the centre. He couldn't see anyone at first. Then Mr Thantos stood in view, still dressed in his hooded cloak.
"You've arrived," said Mr Thantos.
"What did you do to my bike?" Seth asked.
"It's a question that you ought to be asking your friends," he replied. "I found your bike left in the woods and so I decided to return it to you. I left it just over your garden fence."
He grunted a thanks.
Seth noticed some kids in school uniform pass behind Mr Thantos. Seth was feeling uneasy, but not sure why. The smell that oozed out through the door from within the school was sickening and unpleasant. It looked dark inside and almost decayed.
"Are you wanting to stay for my lecture?" Mr Thantos asked, never once with any change of expression.
Seth shook his head. "No, I need to be going back".
"I will just explain how you might win your game and beat your friends if you just stayed for about ten minutes. But if you want to leave, you can go then. But I'm leaving after this night and won't come back here again."
Seth wasn't sure to believe him or not. Something about what Mr Thantos said made him convining enough and wise enough to know what he was talking about. He could kill ten minutes, just ten minutes. Just spend a short while listening to what he had to say that will help him play better at Bikeball might be worthwhile, if not, stupid.
Seth went inside the school and Mr Thantos closed the door. He showed Seth the lecture room and it was just through the nearest door. Everything in the school was dark. No lights, no colours, no posters, pictures, displays, Nothing. Only.... what was that?!!!!
(To be continued)...

Story by Rayne    

Friday, 17 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 2)

(My fictional story continued)... Seth had his bike sorted, and was ready to play a game of Bikeball the following Saturday. But when he arrived to the woods with his team mates and started to play the first round, the bike got a flat tyre again.
"Bad luck, Seth!" his friends told him.
He cursed, and was out of the game so early on.
In despair, he pushed his bike and it went shattering on the ground. He dumped it there in the woods and he made his reluctant trek home on foot, not even caring what the others are doing. There was no more point. He was out. He was probably disqualified due to the bike. That bike was cursed! It had to be. Seth wouldn't miss it. The bike was nothing but trouble and it kept falling to pieces anyway. Its chain would keep coming off. The handlebars would become stiff. The seat came off a few times. It always looked rusty.
He returned home, to his parents and younger sister. They were all watching TV and eating noodles with chicken burgers. He wasn't hungry. He went upstairs to his room and slammed the door, angry that nothing was going his way. That bike let him down and ruined his life. He couldn't have fun with it. He didn't want it.The bike can rot in the woods.
Later, he argued with his parents over the missing bike. His father said "I bought it for your 17th birthday, and you should be grateful!".
Seth told him of his anguish and how the bike was poorly made, but soon it became clear that his father purchased the bike from the internet for just a fiver. It wasn't the bike anymore, but the deciept and lies of his parents, making him think the bike was the most expensive present.
He wanted to leave. He was 19 years old now and already working in a garage part time, while paying towards his keep there. He wanted to start fresh and live away from his parents. He always wanted to live on his own. Then he remembered the old man called Mr Thantos who invited him to attend the Obsidion School.
Seth thought about it for a few hours, and later that night, he decided not to bother going. That place was dirty, full of stinking bins and gangs anyway. He could think of nothing worse than going to the pit of the Backwater. Seth had a weird dream that he was playing Bikeball and all of his teammates were creatures with sharp teeth and red eyes. It woke him up in a sweat. It was so dark. The moon shone. What time was it? He looked at his luminous clock and it was only 2 in the morning.
Seth decided to return to sleep, when he could hear noises coming from outside. He could hear his father snoring in the other room, or was it his mother? He thought it might be a cat. Then he heard the sound of footsteps. He sat up in bed, wondering what it was. He went over to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
Outside it was quite dark, because the street lamps were failed. One of them was blinking on and off. The Backwater was the most neglected part of town that the local authorities never spend money on. But in the yard, which was surrounded by a tall 6ft fence and some hedges growing snugly against the wooden posts, the little shed, and the the lawn. At the back of the yard near the gate was the refuse bin, with no sign of any cats. But the moon sparkled on something there. He focused, and saw a shape. He lost his breathe when he saw that it was his bike!
He pulled on his trousers and shoes, then went downstairs. Seth went out into the yard and ran across the wet lawn, to find that it was indeed his bike. It seemed in worse shape than it had been when he dumped it in the woods. It looked battered, as if an elephants walked on it. Maybe one of his buddies brought it over, but at two in the morning?
He opened the gate and rushed out into the alley behind it, to catch a glimpse of a hooded man in the distance, using a walking cane to assist him. That was no dount Mr Thantos.
Seth wondered, "What does he want"?
(,,, to be continued)
Story written by Rayne

Thursday, 16 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 1)



(Story-genre: Horror)

A boy named Seth Grainfield was feeling angry with himself.
"What have I done!" he said to himself.
He turned his bike around and rode along the thin path. He saw a glimpse of the others in the woods further up the hill on their bikes. He heard shouting. He knew that he was way too behind them now and wouldn't be able to keep up. Anyone knew that those lagging were out of the game before the second round. But he heard it, a "thlunk" sound. He saw it. A ball arcing from the trees, and tumbling down the hill. He sped on his bike towards it. Perhaps he was safe in the game afterall. His team mates were emerging from the woods, speeding on their bikes so quickly as they went down the hill. He had to reach the rolling ball before they did.
He got it! Whack! He hit the ball with his booted foot and sent it across the grass. Others turned on their bikes and did wheelies and somersaults in the air that he couldn't do.He had no time now to be amazed at his team mates riding, he had to get the ball; a second kick would keep him safe until the second round. He missed. Someone else kicked the ball, and then another. He couldn't catch it, as the ball was being kicked all over the place, and finally they ended up back in the woods again.
As the ball was being hunted by sporty cyclists during a new game of Bikeball, Seth was overcome by anger when something sharp penetrated the front wheel. It turned as flat as and useless as spaghetti. Before anyone else noticed, as they all rode off chasing the ball, Seth stopped and got off the bike. He inspected the flat wheel, and found a metallic object stuck inside it. He couldn't pull it out. A nail, with Seth's bike's name on waiting for him to come along. Why did it have to be him that gets it? He was annoyed and kicked the bike.
He flung a stone at a tree. Then he sat down, feeling stupid and gutted to be out of the game. It wasn't fair. He wanted that prize. He wanted a better bike. All his friends have motorbikes and chain bikes, his was a cheap bike that was often going flat. It was a rubbish bike. He heard a loud cry of shouts as his team mates found the ball and fought over it.
"Are you tired, lad?" asked an old voice.
Seth spun round to see who was talking. Coming through the trees was a tall man who looked curious. He had a long white beard, he wore a hooded cloak of blue leather. He was holding a walking cane. Seth shrugged. The old man wouldn't understand.
"No, it's the bike" Seth told him.
The old man didn't look surprised. He seemed to look straight at him with such curious looking eyes.
"The bike is just needing a new wheel. You need to learn how to avoid getting your tyres flat during an intense game. Football is it, but with bikes?"
He was clever for an old guy, "How did you know that? We only invented it the other day."
The man smiled.
"My name is Mr Thantos and I'm an official", said the man with the strange pale pale grey eyes.
Seth stood up.
"I've got to be going," he said. "My friends will finish soon". Seth lifted up his bike and started to walk and painfully drag it along by holding the handlebars. The wheel's tyre flip flopped. The man called Mr Thantos spoke behind him.
"I can help you win this game."
Seth looked at him.
"Really?"
"I can teach you how to play better," said Mr Thantos. "Every Friday evenings from 7 o' clock until 10 o' clock, I teach classes in the Obsidion School."
Seth nodded, and turned away, resuming his walk. He quickened his pace, and needed to return to the other players, even if he'd lost the game.... (to be continued)   

Story by Rayne Belladonna.
Above image designed by Rayne using Doll Divine

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

Do cats bring bad luck?


No they don't. This is an old medieval superstition that cats are associated with the devil and are witches familiars. During the Middle Ages, paranoid people were so afraid of cats and dogs, that they began exterminating the helpless animals by the thousands. Once all the domestic dogs and kitties were gone from Britain, the Black Death plague moved in. No cats left to kill any of the infestation of mice and rats coming off boats. These crazy ideas still linger today. People are scared witless of seeing black or white cats crossing their path. They’re too scared to adopt a fluffy kitten over Halloween because they think it’s evil. There are people who believe cats want to rule the world, and others who are vindictive and steal other peoples cats to make a quick buck. There are some who blame cats for pollution and causing damage to the environment, harming wildlife and causing mass extinctions. No, it isn't cats responsible for those things. It’s humans that are the cause of bad luck.

Monday, 13 November 2017

The red hooded girl


 
My favourite fairytale is “Red Riding Hood”. There’s so much to read into it, with hidden meanings. You could say it’s a story of a girl growing up and meeting strange men, menstruation and loss of virginity. It could also be a story of werewolves. It certainly is a horror fairytale story. It’s a challenging story of a young woman that enters a dark forest on her own, for the purpose of visiting her sick grandmother. One can find many Goddess related messages, the Maiden healing the Crone, or the girl in red (sun goddess) encountering the bad wolf (the killer). In Norse mythology it seems to mirror the story of the wolf, Skoll, that eats the sun goddess Sol during Ragnarok. The red hooded cloak may also be looked at as a very different form of symbolism. Red is the colour of blood, perhaps it means menstrual blood. Also red is the colour of fire. There were ancient priestesses who wore hooded red robes, such as those of Delphi in the temple of Apollo. Again, solar related divinity. The wolf being the aggressor, rapist and destroyer. Little Red Riding Hood may as well be a sun priestess like Pythia. There were also red priestesses who honoured and worshipped the goddess Isis. Saint Brigid is often depicted in a red hooded robe or a red habit. She’s said to be the canonised goddess Brigid, a fire and sun goddess. So with this, Red Riding Hood could be seen in many ways and interpretations, from the girl going through puberty, the healer, the Maiden, priestess and goddess, who encounters her cosmic enemy, the Wolf.

The artwork is "Priestess of Delphi" by John Collier.

Tuesday, 7 November 2017

Gloom Girls Project: Bloody Mary


This is a project about demonic ladies, iron maidens and evil queens. It's the opposite to my "Golden Girl Project" series that I made years ago on this blog. Golden Girls is all about ladies of light. The Gloom Girls Project is about ladies of darkness. Obsidiously evil and dangerous by nature, they're cold blooded as they're so vicious, tainted and cruel. Each post will focus on one such lady of gloom. Bloody Mary

The urban legend of the Bloody Mary is like this: Late at night, the witching hour, light a single candle and look into the mirror. Say the name "Bloody Mary" three times, and the reflection in the mirror will be of her. This ritual has been done by groups of people. They claim to have seen Bloody Mary appear in the mirror just after saying the name three times. Bloody Mary looks like a corpse. Some say that she appears like a woman covered in blood. It's said that this ghost of Bloody Mary can scream or attack people through the mirror.
Where does all this come from and who is Bloody Mary?
There was a real "Bloody Mary" in history, She was Queen Mary I of England, born on February 18th in 1516. She was Mary Tudor, the daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. She was the sister of the fiery and vivacious Elizabeth I and also cousin of the stunning Mary Queen of Scots. Mary I of England must never be confused with Mary Queen of Scots as these were two different women. Mary I was considered "plain" by comparison of the other queens, but she had a very strong bloodthirst. She expressed her angry will in persecuting Protestants by having them killed.
She had talents in music and singing, but was always living under a cloud because she was a bastard child and had restrictions. She married Phillip II of Spain. Mary became a queen at 37 years of age, through loopholes and after she brutally removed and killed the beautiful "9 days queen" Lady Jane Grey.
At the time of her ascension to the throne, the public loved her. She became queen and was soon desperate to make England a Catholic country. She executed people. Their bodies were displayed for all to see, as birds pecked on the corpses eyes and flesh. She encouraged people to join her in a war, that turned on its head, resulting in slaughter by the thousands. She executed 300 of her own people during her campaign against heresy and war against Protestantism. She was a terrible ruler and a mass murderess. This gave her the name "Bloody Mary". She became a truly horrible and hated queen.
Throughout her life, Mary suffered miscarriages. But her violent urges gave her a quick hateful reputation. Mary I died in 17 November 1558 of cancer. Lack of an heir made the next in line to the throne Elizabeth, her sister, who righted the wrongs that the queen Bloody Mary did. There is a well known nursery rhyme about Bloody Mary.
"Mary Mary
quite contrary
how does your garden grow?
with silver bells and
cockel shells
and pretty maids all in a row".

Saturday, 4 November 2017

The Angels of Mons


During the First World War, some British soldiers were in the trenches. They all saw the same thing that appeared, angelic beings, also women dressed in long white robes and golden armour. Also, soldiers witnessed the shining forms of bowmen shooting arrows, knights and ancient kings with swords descend on the frontline, during crossfire. Also the weird thing is, the German soldiers had seen it too! Weirder, soldiers on the enemy side, Germans, found covered in arrows! This particular Battle of Mons was seen by both sides. Apparitions of medieval and supernatural armies all shining and positioned between the Germans and British.
Many people doubt this ever happened. Even back then, once the stories about the Angels appeared, it was shunned as vivid imagination brought about by shellshock and the effects of war. Possibly even brough on by mustard gas. Sceptics use this story to discuss mass hysteria when time of war happens, many people are able to witness an event of paranormal that isn’t there, but seen by all because of traumatic events.
Religious people use this event to enhance the fact God was on the British side. Or Christians think that regardless of what side it was, there was some form of divine intervention during WW1. A topic that throughout human history, God/angels, gods/goddesses,ect influence the shape of humanity and put people on a certain destined path. The Angels of Mons is regarded as one of the most convincing and popular myth and legends of modern times. Personally what do I think? During war, soldiers can become to distressed psychologically that they need some sort of paranormal event to help them or atleast reveal itself to give them spiritual comfort during such horror. I believe all these soldiers witnessed something incredible. But was it real? For them yes it was.

By Rayne Belladonna
Link to original post  

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

Fairytales and inner female strength


If you examine fairytales closely, the most powerful women are always the most evil. Look at the evil queen in “Snow White”, and the sheer terror she generates and the power she has without any visible king at her side. Look at the influence and godlike will that the thirteenth fairiy has in “Sleeping Beauty”. Look at the amazing witch who owns the gingerbread house. What about the other witch Baba Yaga? and the power that she generates through fear. The tyranny of the stepmother and wicked step sisters in “Cinderella”.
Okay and what about the benign women with supernatural qualities that outdo anything the men have. For example, the fairy godmother in “Cinderella” who steps in to control destiny and change fate. The fairies in “Sleeping Beauty” and the Blue Fairy in “Pinnocchio”. Let us not forget Mother Holle and the Swan Maiden.
What of the heroines? The princesses and maidens in fairytales might be so “sweet and cute” but they do actually have a very important role to play and their position in the story is strong. Goldilocks, brave girl entering a house and fleeing three bears. Brave Red Riding Hood for talking to a large wolf. Courage to Snow White, a victim of abuse imho who ran away, sleeping rough, living with total strangers, and been a target of someone jealousy. Let’s not forget the loving Little Match Girl who braved the cold winter snow and saw visions of warmth, food and comfort before she passed away to be with her nana. Look at brave Little Mermaid who sacrificed a part of herself (her body and her voice) to be with a man she loved, only to lose him for another, and she then took her life.
Many people overlook the pitfalls and pain these heroines have gone through and it’s because they want women to be either armour clad or buxom wenches. These heroines are just girls and women, coping with life.
Also with modern tales, lets say cheers to Alice and Dorothy, as well as the Wardrobe girls and plenty others for going on such adventures.   

Monday, 30 October 2017

Scary happenings at home


I have several encounters going back since childhood being scared. I was very little and woke up during the night. I wasn’t alone in the house but I’m definately sure the only person awake in the house. It was always pitch black, waking from scary dreams. I was woken often in the dead-of-night and saw people in my bedroom all looking at me. They were around my bed, and just bent over looking down at me. They had no expression on their faces, and I didn’t know who they were. I saw them a lot of nights waking up and seeing the same people. Sometimes it was just one person there, and I can remember one of them looked like an old witch. Her hair was very long, and she wore a big dress. It made me nervous so much going to bed that I started sleeping under the blankets, so when I woke up, I would only be hiding and those people couldn’t see me. The following morning, nan came in and said “Oh you’re sleeping inside the bed!” I’ve been sleeping under the blankets ever since. I can never sleep without hiding.
Older, I woke up at the age of 9 years old to hear the sound of something or someone playing in my room. It was dark. Everyone else was asleep except me and that noise. It was someone playing with my things, tapping the desk, the sounds of someone scribbling a pen, ect. It was pitch black. I lay there feeling so scared. I couldn’t takre it anymore so I screamed. My nan came in and asked what was wrong. I told her, and she put the light on and told me there was nothing in my room.
Adulthood: I woke up during the night in my twenties and saw a glowing white figure stood in the corner of my room. It was close beside the wardrobe. I had the curtains closed. The figure disappeared. I wondered if it was a trick of light. I looked away and thought about it, and in the corner of my eye, the glowing figure returned. I looked back and it vanished. I sat up in bed and each time I looked away, the phantom thing would return but disappear as soon as I looked at it. I realised it was playing games with me. Sometimes it vanished as soon as I looked at it, other times a few seconds after looking at it. I felt extremely cold and hid under the blankets. This light, whatever it was, didn’t come back.
I was woken up by the sounds of someone in my room, and feeling someone tapping the bed, and shuffling it. Then the sound of someone thumping the headboard and the posts. I thought it was my dad, annoyed with me for over sleeping, but after I sat up, shocked to find no one there. Soon shocked to discover the house was empty. I called my dad, and he was at work.
I’ve been washing dishes late at night sometimes. Once someone came into the kitchen, I thought it was my boyfriend who came down to eat something but he disappeared. I screamed. My boyfriend was up in bed fast asleep. I’ve been kind of alone in the house and heard voices so I think someone is home but it turned out to be empty. I’ve been alone and seen mysterious cats appear in the house who just disappear into thin air. I’ve seen orbs floating near me but “flee” when I attempt to go near them. I’ve watched an orb of light dancing around the walls and furniture and swivel up the stairs. I couldn’t find any source of light doing it, even my watch wasn’t doing this because I was so still and had my hands behind my back. At one time I’ve seen a figure of a wolf in my back yard (where I used to live) staring in at me through the patio door. I could go on as there are tons of them but I’m going to have some coffee.   

Saturday, 28 October 2017

What the dead taught me


Contacting spirits of the dead is dangerous and also creepy. I don't suggest anyone do this. I've posted an answer to someone wanting to know how to communicate with the spirits of the dead and I wrote this:
"I’m not going to tell you. This will only open a door and bring in any kind of entity. It won’t just be bothersome for you but for many others reading it and wanting to try, including kids. So I’m not going to post any spells or techniques. It’s best that you don’t contact the dead using any means. If the dead want to make contact with you, and it’s either loved ones who passed over or your spirit guides, then they will send you a sign. Spirits of the dead can appear to us in dreams, this is their way of communicating. Have you lost someone close? If you have, did you have a dream where your phone rang and you answered it, only to hear their voice? This is a very big clue that spirits are making contact."
However, I will briefly mention it here on my blod, just be very careful.
I didn't intend to open a door to the spirit world at first, I was using some form of divising tool that locates water and can be used as a compass. Soon it was responding to my questions, and eventually moved on its own. From that to the next stage of ouija board!!!! The same spirit got through, supposed spirits of family, deceased characters I never knew and other beings that identified themselves as spirits. 
They taught me how to scry. 
They taught me how to see through walls but I can no longer do this now.
They taught me how to call down the moon.
They taught me how to listen to voices in the wind.
They taught me how to use automatic writing.
They taught me how to see auras.
They taught me the different types of auras and what they mean.
They taught me above the importance of colour coding.
I'm not saying people should contact the dead, at all. I no longer do this because what I explained happened many years ago. I'm not cut out to be a psychic medium. At the end of that year, I suffered coughing fits similar to whooping cough that made me vomit white sticky fluid or clear fluid that disappeared. I believe this was no whooping cough because I overcame that a long time ago and it never comes back. What I was experiencing might've been a type illness that also made me rid myself of bacteria. The vomit wasn't like normal vomit. It resembled ectoplasm.
As Halloween is coming near, I wanted to write some scary stuff and paranormal matters.  

Tuesday, 24 October 2017

Past creepy things




Halloween is coming and some spooky bits to write about.
While doing some research, I came across a couple of phantoms on a live webcam taken in Willard Library a few years ago. Unfortunately the computer has gone and I didn’t save the picture. It looked like a woman in white browsing the bookshelves.

I’ve also had encounters that were chilling. I remember waking up to see a ball of light in my bedroom. It was a blue coloured light just hovering above the floor. It seemed to be staring at me as I slept. Then as I was gradually waking up and noticed it, I looked at it closely and it “flew” away, leaving a trail of light.

I was sat on the computer once and there was an enormous bang. It sounded like a firework and it came from in the room. People heard it and asked me what it was. Then it happened again and I saw a large football sized orb of orange light in the room that was close to the table where I sat. It vanished into thin air. The same house was full of odd things going on. I heard footsteps in the corridor, lights switched on by themselves, the central heating turned on by itself. 

Also I heard a man’s voice say my name and it sounded like he was standing right behind me. I looked round and there wasn’t anyone there. In that house, I was woken up very early one morning by the sound of someone banging in my room. Then it banged on the bed’s bottom frame and shook me in the bed. It was done with such force. I sat up and there was nobody there. Then the following night when it was dark, the same thing happened again only not banging, just something prodding and poking me. I felt terrified. Found out later that the house installed a Victorian piece of furniture that used to belong to an old building. I felt this had a lot to do with it.

To do your own little ghost hunting without ever movin from your room at home, go and visit Willard Library homepage and check out their Ghost Cams. You can watch as the camera refreshes, it's on live and who knows you might see a spirit.

Saturday, 21 October 2017

The monster bite



Here I answered a question that was asked in Quora: "In monster mythology, if you are bitten you turn into the monster that bit you. Where did this concept originate?" and I posted my answer. I feel like wtf and post my answer to my blog as it's monster related. Since we're coming near to Halloween, I felt like writing and posting about monsters. My answer in italics:

The concept is frightening, being turned once some creature has bitten you. This is probably all from times when people lived in absolute mortal fear of the following things: 
Rabies and Plagues.

Those things caused a vast number of incidents that sparked off nightmares and death. Rabies itself has been the cause of wild animal attacks against humans, werewolf stories and even bizarre horrors of turned people. The Black Death or Bubonic Plague was rife in Europe during the Middle Ages. This devastating plague stole millions of lives, and its destruction put an end to the Age of chivalry and Feudalism. While politically there was more to it than that, it wasn’t a coincidence that the plague and infestation and disease sweeping through the lands filled everyone with fear.

So the tales of vampires, werewolves, ect (those types of legendary monsters are far older and go back thousands of years) evolved into the breed of biters and blood drinkers, who make their victims become one of them. So basically, the vampire and werewolf (as well as a zombie even) are symbols of the Great Plague and other infectious diseases like rabies.

Vamps and werewolves have been in folklore, myth and creepy tales for thousands of years, but they were previously heralded as almost divine with strength, immortality, shape shifting, the moon, night and their supposed connection to gods and warrior heroes. The Viking berserkers and ulfhednar were the order of warriors and many could be considered true werewolves and other beasts. Viking raiders who stormed villages along coasts, bringing their ferocious bears and wolves in armour, so there is the ancient fear and stress embedded in the genes of being “attacked” by monsters. I can imagine ordinary people scared of the dark, because they were scared of any berserker hiding there.  

To read my answer and see more to my post and view other posts on that thread, click here: "In monster mythology, if you are bitten you turn into the monster that bit you. Where did this concept originate?"