creepy pasta
That which has No Life
anneelter
Like many people I have been fascinated with the Occult since a young age. I began my journey into the Occult a bumbling fool, having tried to sell my soul to the Devil at least three times to no avail at the age of seven. No luck, I suppose he does not want it. And blood writing did not tempt him either. 

The closest I have come to an Occult experience happened around that time in the basement of my best friends who lived next door. There was always something foreboding about that house, a sinister presence seemed to lurk just beyond the veil of suburban normalcy, permeating throughout the open design of the late 80's family home. Whatever it was that was there, the uncanny, the fantastic, that preternarural feeling of dread was all consuming, and the efforts of the mother of my best friends to keep the house tidy did little to scrub away that feeling of deep grime and decay.

Before my best friends lived there lived a family with a very sick infant. He was born with the contents of his abdominal cavity on the outside of his body, and his cries at night could be heard in our house. This is what my parents told me. Maybe that sick child attracted a malevolent force which became attached to the house. Even now, my best friends having long since moved away, the house sickens me. 

We always feared the basement, feared and respected it. And we always played in the basement. It had all the toys a child could wish for in a clean, open space that was perfect for young minds to exercise their imaginations. Cleaning up after games was a strict rule we abided, even though the home my brother and I lived in was messy. 

That force taunted us to clean its besmirched presence I know. It took us one day by surprise. I suggested to my brother and our two friends that we play at a seance. So we turned out the lights, sat on the ground cross-legged and took each other's hands in our own. I knew little of the rules for such a game, but those actions seemed fitting for a fledgling Occultist. I expected nothing to happen, having been let down by the Occult many times before. I was wrong. We all were, and I will never forget that lesson it taught me.
 

Suddenly we started chanting. "White Woman, White Woman, show us your face." Over and over until I felt like the room was spinning, all in synchrony and without provocation or planning. How did we all know the words, and to intone them so deeply in our chests as we did. We chanted on and on, the room spinning, and the grips on each others hands becoming tighter and tighter.

Then it came from around the corner. A large, seven-foot tall apparition floating just above the ground. The White Woman! She floated slowly and serenely, opaque white with a veil covering her face. She would not show us her face. Suddenly I screamed, the game had gone horribly wrong, and just as fast as she came she was gone.

My friend, who I told the story to at the age of 25, suggested that the White Woman was a Cherub, sent to ward away an evil spirit bent on our corruption. Whatever it was that we saw, we will never forget how that sinister force took over our bodies and minds. Who knows what would have happened had I not interrupted the chanting  "White Woman, White Woman, show us your face."


Twilight of the Gods
That which has No Life
anneelter

 It's been a while since I last updated and my life has been going well. I have been working at my new job for six weeks now and am settling in nicely. I have summer plans to visit my ex in Calgary in mid-August and am planning on attending a few shows.

Since I was sick I lost a fair number of fair-weather friends and I am looking forward to getting in touch with people to see who really has my back. I have a slight taste of bitterness in the back of my mouth about that. We'll see.


Crocodile Tears
That which has No Life
anneelter
Instigator alligator took a trip to my kitchen,
when the fire got heated he started teeth clenching.
I lost and he took a token of my affection, 
left it broken and kvetching.
I am alone in my kitchen, a witch with no mission.

A Limerick
That which has No Life
anneelter
There once was a girl from London,
whose friendships became fast ended.
The good weather turned bad,
and her face grew sad,
I fear she's stronger as one.

Beat the Sound
That which has No Life
anneelter
Tanned and stretched leather on a frame of glass,
in a round beats softly in my ear.
The reverberations sicken so quickly now,
I cannot hear my beating heart.
Static sine waves sync in my head to no avail.

Writer's Block: Better than leftovers
That which has No Life
anneelter
If you had to eat the same thing for dinner every night for the next year, what would you choose?

Bagged pizza subs

The One I Forgot
That which has No Life
anneelter
The thread slips through my fingers so easily now,
I do not think to tie a knot.
The weft and warp are out of sort,
and the draft has been made rough. 
Those words I might have forgot, 
but the permutations stay the same, 
I cannot regret.

Only despair to fit in my thimble and a slip,
through my fingers I might forget.
The dovetails and the darts,
slip through my fingers so easily now.
I am a point turner in bewteen deftly trained fingers
and I will not poke holes where they do not make.
I am a pin tuck under your bleeding lapel. 
 

Writer's Block: Sorry seems to be the hardest word
That which has No Life
anneelter
If there was one person, living or dead, to whom you could apologize, who would you choose, and what would you say?

The reaper sews not what he sees.
And the crow caws to no one.
The Nightingale weeps for his audience,
of tens of elevenses,
and the lion has the pride of all.
 

Writer's Block: Homeword bound
That which has No Life
anneelter
How would you describe your perfect home in ten words or less?

home
over
bridge
or

about
broad
ornate
den
ever home

Dog Tired
That which has No Life
anneelter
Exhausted. I went out last night, for the first time in almost a month, which is a pretty big deal. I am happy to report that the worst thing that I did in the bathroom was yoga, and that is a true story. I am happy to have pg 13 fun and I am quite satisfied with where my life is headed.
Yesterday was exhausting emotionally, but today was just plain old tiring. I spent 7 hours volunteering, came home and made gingerbread snaps and gave myself a mani-pedi. Even with all this stress in my life I somehow manage to sublimate it into something better. Why.
I miss my real friends. Tomorrow I was scheduled to have a nerdcon, but due to a scheduling mishap it is being rescheduled. I was looking forward to watching some really campy movies and acting a fool. I think I will just sit in bed, watch a movie, sew and spill some for my tactical crew.
10-4.

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