Friday, October 15, 2010

Read my blog I update!

Please follow me here, since I obviously cannot keep up with my short story blog. LadiesWithBadHabits is a collective blog. I mostly blog about ghastly and abnormal art, music, fashion and more!



Tuesday, July 28, 2009

We're helpless in sleep

I'd like to run away and become blood bound with gypsies. On restless nights I am lured by the reply of divination, without signs of doubt. How could I have doubt when I have no soul? Of course I was tricked, not everyone knows if you bargain with a witch you become a witch. It is not as much of a tragedy as it may seem, I've almost mastered the gaze I need for the crystal ball. The gaze is similar to the trance cast out from a predator's eyes. For myself, I prefer to use the potion to gain compassion from strangers so they will let me slip under their covers at night. I must tell you to beware; without the right concoction it is like peering into a the jaws of a lion, head first.. Luckily, I've been given the keys to your eye so I won't have to sleep in a deep grave tonight.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

When night falls..

     My unbound spirit is infected by Mara as I lay my head down and close my eyes. I've been pulled through the tiniest key holes and stuffed under the smallest door cracks becoming immaterial like her. It is a curse I must bear, to lay with different men each night waiting for them to drift into the deepest part of sleep so I can extract their life force. She taught me how to pin a body down, how to suffocate them just right so I can still swallow their screams. I've become as cunning as her, only leaving visions of my morbid oppression behind.

   Whether you believe Mara is a nightmare or physical existence, this wicked spirit is undetectable when she approaches your side in the shadows of the night, leaving you powerless, so she can easily feed off your soul. When you are freed from this daze you will be harrowed by the episode of paralysis. Unfortunately, she'll return again and again until she completely drains you and claims your life. Some say these attacks may come from a recently deceased relative who is restless or it is a case a vampirism. A wooden stake is the only thing to prevent your expiration; by driving it through the coffin of the assailant, to the earth. This execution will immobilize the spirt and prevent it from leaving it's grave when night falls..

Thursday, June 25, 2009

May flights of devils wing you to your rest..

Blood is a virtually universal food source for the undead because it possesses supernatural powers and mystical qualities; it is the keeper and giver of life. It is a vital force that drives vampires and can be drawn from the necks of helpless human victims. If only the myths were true..

I would never want to become a vampire, the logistics behind my decision are just too much for anyone to handle, but I would love for some mysterious man to sink his teeth into my neck. I'd be doomed and in love if Dracula was based off truths. My insomnia would be a blessing rather than a nuisance until I was eventually turned and filled with blood lust. Until then I'll wait in the graveyard with my nose in a novel and dream.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Sleep- The Twin Brother of Death

I wish Morpheus would swoop down in another disguise and whisper some more truths into my dreams and powder my eyes with sand. Another night of fortunes will keep my eyes stitched shut longer, but I'll have to admit that I do not always like Morpheus' power to reach into the shadows of my subconscious. It can be a little more frightening than the dreams Phobetor disturbs my cognition's with; My phobias can be quickly over come when I'm abruptly pulled from my trauma influenced slumber. Should I trust the false sense Morpheus gives of a psychic power that makes me doubtful? He only leaves me with the nights premonitions, which trail my thoughts until tragically proven right. I feel the same gut-wrenching stress that perplexes me after equivocal astrological readings and he leaves me with the same chill I acquire from ambiguous lovers.  I'll blame the seductive power of poppy that makes me desire to be thrown back into his ebony bed.