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Creepy song of the day
Oct. 22nd, 2010 05:42 pmHeard this today. More grim and fatalistic than spooky.
Oct. 22nd, 2010
Paranormal Snippet of the Day
Oct. 22nd, 2010 06:02 pmThis is from "Worth the Woe" as yet unpublished.
With Anna and Lizzie behind me, I walked up and knocked on the door of the hut. The oldest girl peered out.
“Go away!”
I got my foot in the door but she tried shutting it anyway. Ouch. But my foot meant I could get my knee in and then I was standing there. “Please, we are lost and starving.” Anna and Lizzie put on their most pitiful faces.
The red-haired one saw us. “Oh let them in, Sissy. They can eat and sleep here. Father won't need to harm them.”
“Hush, you. Father will eat them and you know it.”
“No, he won't. I have an idea. I'll tell him. Come in, come in.”
She led us into the hut and put bread and cheese and a few bits of meat in front of us. Anna and Lizzie dove in, but I took only enough to feel more sure of myself.
“Why will your father eat us?” I asked.
“Because that's what giants do with puny humans who get lost,” sneered the middle girl who was putting more bread in to bake on the hearth.
“Ignore Gretchen,” our hostess told us. “She's a lot like Father and hates being reminded that Mother was half-human herself. Francesca, she is stern, but she has to be. It's just us here all alone while Father is out for the day.”
“I'm Molly,” I told her, never taking my eyes from hers.
“Betta.” She let me look as deeply as I wanted, enjoying the attention. I knew she did a lot of the work and wondered if she might like to leave with us in the morning.
“In the morning, I'll show you the way over the mountain and to the next town. There's a king there with a big problem and he might pay well for you to get rid of it.” She giggled. “Father is part of the problem.”
My beer shook, and then again.
“Father! Daddy's home!” The three giant girls rushed about getting everything in perfect readiness. They shoved us into the inglenook of the fireplace. It was well away from the flames where a whole ox roasted.
“I smell mortal, flesh and blood. It will go down well for breakfast.”
“You smell your ox a-roasting,” Betta said. “And our guests.” She beckoned us out. “This is Anna and Lizzie and Molly. They're staying the night and you won't be having them for breakfast, Father. They're guests and have drunk of our hospitality.”
“Foolish little baggage,” he grumbled. “I perish, feed me, girls.”
They had the ox and a barrel of beer on the table in a trice and watching him eat was a sight to see. I kept my sisters huddled in out corner and we watched and waited until he finished. His daughters cleared away.
“So, if I cannot eat ye, tell me of yourselves.” He settled in front of the fire with a pipe in his hand.
I told him all we had endured and he puffed away, making “hmm, hmm”s that rattled the windows. “Aye, stay ye shall, and share the beds of my three.”
“Father, there's scarce room enough for us in our beds,” Gretchen protested. “We're grown, or nearly so, and we still sleep in children's beds.”
“Sleep ye shall and right soon.” He yawned and stretched. “Light us to bed, Seska.”
With Anna and Lizzie behind me, I walked up and knocked on the door of the hut. The oldest girl peered out.
“Go away!”
I got my foot in the door but she tried shutting it anyway. Ouch. But my foot meant I could get my knee in and then I was standing there. “Please, we are lost and starving.” Anna and Lizzie put on their most pitiful faces.
The red-haired one saw us. “Oh let them in, Sissy. They can eat and sleep here. Father won't need to harm them.”
“Hush, you. Father will eat them and you know it.”
“No, he won't. I have an idea. I'll tell him. Come in, come in.”
She led us into the hut and put bread and cheese and a few bits of meat in front of us. Anna and Lizzie dove in, but I took only enough to feel more sure of myself.
“Why will your father eat us?” I asked.
“Because that's what giants do with puny humans who get lost,” sneered the middle girl who was putting more bread in to bake on the hearth.
“Ignore Gretchen,” our hostess told us. “She's a lot like Father and hates being reminded that Mother was half-human herself. Francesca, she is stern, but she has to be. It's just us here all alone while Father is out for the day.”
“I'm Molly,” I told her, never taking my eyes from hers.
“Betta.” She let me look as deeply as I wanted, enjoying the attention. I knew she did a lot of the work and wondered if she might like to leave with us in the morning.
“In the morning, I'll show you the way over the mountain and to the next town. There's a king there with a big problem and he might pay well for you to get rid of it.” She giggled. “Father is part of the problem.”
My beer shook, and then again.
“Father! Daddy's home!” The three giant girls rushed about getting everything in perfect readiness. They shoved us into the inglenook of the fireplace. It was well away from the flames where a whole ox roasted.
“I smell mortal, flesh and blood. It will go down well for breakfast.”
“You smell your ox a-roasting,” Betta said. “And our guests.” She beckoned us out. “This is Anna and Lizzie and Molly. They're staying the night and you won't be having them for breakfast, Father. They're guests and have drunk of our hospitality.”
“Foolish little baggage,” he grumbled. “I perish, feed me, girls.”
They had the ox and a barrel of beer on the table in a trice and watching him eat was a sight to see. I kept my sisters huddled in out corner and we watched and waited until he finished. His daughters cleared away.
“So, if I cannot eat ye, tell me of yourselves.” He settled in front of the fire with a pipe in his hand.
I told him all we had endured and he puffed away, making “hmm, hmm”s that rattled the windows. “Aye, stay ye shall, and share the beds of my three.”
“Father, there's scarce room enough for us in our beds,” Gretchen protested. “We're grown, or nearly so, and we still sleep in children's beds.”
“Sleep ye shall and right soon.” He yawned and stretched. “Light us to bed, Seska.”
Thoughts on Witchcraft
Oct. 22nd, 2010 08:38 pmI've been listening to liberal talk radio. And the hosts are pissing me off by bullyragging Christine O'Donnell over the "I dabbled in witchcraft" thing. Now I'm no O'Donnell fan. In fact, when it comes to me she would do well to remember I am a witch, and I masturbate, so she is clearly not me.
Anyway, one was on about her using witchcraft for the election and it got me to thinking.
By my definition, she already is.
I define Witchcraft as applying your Will to the Universe to achieve the desired outcome.
This can have a religious component, asking the gods to intervene and aid.
It can have a ritual component, which will mainly serve to focus the Will.
It always has a work component. That's called applying.
Pray with one hand. Work with the other.
And St. Benedict got it right when he wrote "To work is to pray."
So, O'Donnell is praying for the job and working toward it. Seeking divine intervention and working at the same time. Witchcraft. (although no witches I know would claim her)
Thus proving there are only two types of women: witches, and those who don't yet know they are.
Anyway, one was on about her using witchcraft for the election and it got me to thinking.
By my definition, she already is.
I define Witchcraft as applying your Will to the Universe to achieve the desired outcome.
This can have a religious component, asking the gods to intervene and aid.
It can have a ritual component, which will mainly serve to focus the Will.
It always has a work component. That's called applying.
Pray with one hand. Work with the other.
And St. Benedict got it right when he wrote "To work is to pray."
So, O'Donnell is praying for the job and working toward it. Seeking divine intervention and working at the same time. Witchcraft. (although no witches I know would claim her)
Thus proving there are only two types of women: witches, and those who don't yet know they are.