Creature(s) of the Hospital

I’ve driven by the local hospital recently – often late at night, into the early morning. And twice, I have taken note of an entity or perhaps a few separate entities that are very off putting – both visually and energetically. Admittedly, I have an extraordinary distaste for hospitals, as a medium. They are often riddled with countless spirits that range from lost and confused, to horrific and terrifying. They’re just magnets for unsavory energy – no doubt from the pain, sickness and death that rule there. And as the child, grandchild and great grandchild of a long line of nurses, I spent an unordinary amount of time in them as a child – and briefly as an adult, as I dabbled in the medical field briefly and did my clinicals therein.

These aforementioned entities are not of the human variety, that it for sure. While many spirits of the hospital are unsettling, their humanity is evident – these creatures are not so. I intended to draw them, but upon sitting down to do so, was stricken with an alarming dread inside, as if to say: “No. None of that.” To capture something’s likeness and name can attract – and that is something I’d rather not do, considering. However, I will describe them. Perhaps someone will be familiar with their kind or perhaps it will act as warning against meddling. Either way.

As I said, this could be one entity or two – as I saw it/them on two separate occasions and both times they had a unique appearance.

The first encounter featured a creature that was quite large, but not nearly as disconcerting as the second. It was black, hovering and seemed to lack a recognizable lower body. It was ominous, veiled and was still, but had a certain languid motion nonetheless. It was hooded – in a manner of speaking – though whether it was clothing or its natural appearance, I’m unsure. It seemed at though it wore a cloak, but beneath the hood was but a smoke-like “face” that was unexpressive in every way (almost similar appearance to Tolkein’s Nazgûl). It’s arms were long, but drawn up almost pensively before it – as though it was waiting patiently. I thought it may be some sort of Death, such as a reaper or something (considering its appearance), but I inherently knew of its nature. It was a Collector – come to collect what was due, though for what or whom I have no idea. In a sense, much like the classic Grim Reaper, though not a psychopomp on the traditional sense. More like a spiritual tax collector. Very foreboding in nature, but not entirely unsavory.

The second, though, exuded such a horrific and ghastly appearance its going to be very hard to describe it in detail – at least in detail that can adamantly capture its frightful essence.

It, too, was tall, though not lacking in the familiar human extremities. In fact, it was the proportion of such that was most unsettling, and echoes a number of cited features prevalent in horrifying beings. It was tall – close to 8ft, I would wager – and very thin. It’s body was black, also seeming to be made of a sort of diaphanous matter, with spindly appendages not unlike something from the mind of Tim Burton. The most notable features, aside from its looming stature, was its face and extremely elongated fingers.

It’s face was gaunt, with high cheek bones and large, almost cat-like eyes (in shape, at least). They were most horrifying in that they sparkled with a sort of joy that was so extremely incongruent to its appearance that it could only stem from a sort of depravity. It also bore a sickening smile – though not the characteristic, wide, toothy grin one sees in horror films – but instead, a very subtle twist of the lips that was somehow more upsetting. It’s nose was sharp, large, but not monstrously – it didn’t look disproportionate, in that all of the features seemed to be amplified on the angular frame of “his” face. It didn’t have hair, so to speak, but would could be best described as spines or perhaps a crown that looked almost feather-like.

The fingers, however, were still the most disturbing. It didn’t help that they came at the end of already obscenely long arms, which tapered off right around the “knee” (strangely, its “knees” seemed to be further down the trunk of its leg than would seem functional, as the “thigh” took up nearly 2/3 of the entire leg). The fingers hung from the long arms to the creatures ankle, which was met with very small feet.

Both of these beings stood beneath the lit, overhang wherein the ambulances arrive and drop off their charges. The first creature appeared beside at ambulance that was there, but the second appeared when there were no rigs present. In fact, when it appeared, there seemed to be no cars anywhere. The place was deserted.

And I drove by (thankfully! Had I been on foot, I may well have had to check myself into the unit), looked absently over and saw the looming figure. As I saw it, it saw me and fixed those giant eyes on me and smiled that subtle smile.

Needless to say, I made the sign of the cross, spit three times, and rubbed my necklace (all for good measure) and high-tailed it out of there.

I’ve since been back, half expecting to see it again, but never have.

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Me, in the cemetery: Oh, who smells good today?!
A woman (dead) a few yards away: I think it’s me.
Me: That’s nice, what is that lavender? Lilac?
Her: I always did wear too much…
Me: … There’s no such thing as “too much.”
Her, to her friend (I presume): I like this one.

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Ritual Music

image

Ritual Music @8tracks.com – Qedava

I made this handy playlist for the season! It’s currently the equinox and the SuperMoon, Eclipse and Blood Moon are all on their way! It went for the witchy-atmospheric route – that can be used during ritual, but I’ll probably post one full of “hype” jams in the coming days!

  • Estrella OscuraLila Downs
  • Feral LoveChelsea Wolfe
  • Risus SativusMusica Romana
  • La LloronaChavela Vargas
  • Ritual del Fuego (de Falla) Kupinksi Guitar Duo
  • Me & the DevilSoap&Skin (cover of Robert Johnson)
  • SerenataCharo
  • Keep the Streets Empty for MeFever Ray
  • Benediction & DreamLila Downs
  • Prende la VelaToto la Momposina 
  • Tawa Yama Bele LeLa Famille Dembele
  • The Death LetterEdward Shearmur (which samples Son House)
  • Devil’s SpokeLaura Marling
  • VenusSynaulia
  • Leave My Body Florence + the Machine
  • Finding SilenceCircadian Eyes
  • Two PlanetsBat for Lashes
  • To Be TornKyla La Grange
  • BloodflowersThe Cure
  • AuratNiyaz
  • Strength of StringsThis Mortal Coil
  • Pandoura Hora – Musica Romana
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‘There’s a song,’ she said. ‘In praise of the full moon.’
‘It ain’t full,’ Granny pointed out. ‘It’s wossname. Bulging.’
‘Gibbous,’ said Nanny obligingly.
‘I think it’s in praise of full moons in general,’ Magrat hazarded. ‘And then we have to raise our consciousness. It really ought to be a full moon for that, I’m afraid. Moons are very important.’
Granny gave her a long, calculating look.
‘That’s modern witchcraft for you, is it?’ she said.
‘It’s part of it, Granny. There’s a lot more.’
Granny Weatherwax sighed. ‘Each to her own, I suppose. I’m blowed if I’ll let a ball of shiny rock tell me what to do.’
‘Yes, bugger all that,’ said Nanny. ‘Let’s curse somebody.’

Terry Pratchett, Wyrd Sisters

This exchange is everything to me.

(via ricktimus)

Quote

Spider Queen

hornyspacesnakes:

qedavathegrey:


This is simply a record of a dream I had a few years ago, as such, feel free to disregard or speculate as to who the figure therein may be, because I’m still not entirely sure, but I know that since the dream, I have seen her many times – most often in regards to art, such as when I’m painting or weaving. She makes her presence known and watches, but says nothing and always leaves as abruptly as she arrives.


This dream happened within a series of dreams I had about Doors. While this one happened after the original, this one has been the one that has burned itself most vividly into my memory. It is as follows:

I am in the darkness – one that is so frightfully black, it seems to devour all light and even sound – as I’ve heard many describe a mine as being light. It is a palpable darkness, one that seems to the eyes as to move. And then there was a glow. It was very faint at first, before my eyes became adjusted to its softness. It was most skin to a sort of bioluminescence, though it was the floor that emitted it – calling attention to grand in size the cavern was. The scale was unbelievable. Columns shot up on either side into the blackness above, which the floor could not illuminate. The walls bore carvings, but I couldn’t make them out at such a point.

I began to walk forward, with every step my eyes were able to make out more and more through the blackness overhead – but as I came nearer and nearer to the end of the hall, I took not of the barely glimmering filaments before me. And as I walked, the filaments that hung from above began to part like a great curtain, and I saw then that on the end of each strand was a spider. They parted as I walked, scurrying toward either wall in such a way the formed a blanketed canopy on either side of me. It was then I noticed that it was not the floor that was glowing, but the light from beneath a door I was walking toward – which crept underneath in a lilac-tinted haze.

There are few words to describe how large the door was. It was monumental, rising straight up for what could have been a hundred, two hundred feet straight up – and every inch of their surface bore the same etchings as before, only now they were visible. I don’t remember them specifically, but they looked to be Mayan. However, while there were the characteristic sections of sectioned words that Mayan is known for – they are chunked into squares that form words – there were also great, stela, relief scenes of what looked to be a battle or story. As I said, I can’t remember the exacts of what was depicted thereon, but I remember it being a great and impressive thing to behold. And as I came to the door, the glowing from beneath grew stronger and painted me in a matching hue. I remember being thinking I should be in awe of such a grand piece of art and craftsmanship, but I wasn’t – as though I had seen it thousands of times.

I touched the face of the door, and without an ounce of exertion, the whole giant door (it was actually a set of double doors, I opened the right half) swung with a grinding noise as the stone moved over stone and the lilac light ceased and the cavern – which was just as massive – was lit overhead by one sky-light. The cavern, which was not nearly as wide as it was tall, shot upwards through what could be best described as clouds – though it was more of a mist. However, I think that speaks for the grandiosity of the cavern, that it was so large it had developed its own climate. It was through the clouds that the light shone done in a single column, illuminating a towering stalagmite. But it was still note a sense of awe that came over me, but one of dread. It was not fear, though it probably should have been, but it was more like a sense of discomfort. Such as the feeling you get when you’re about to do something you really don’t want to do. A “happy” blend of anxiety and annoyance.

I walked into the cave – and found that around the stalagmite was a “moat” of sorts, but filled with a foreboding, black “water.” Like the sea at night, when nothing can be seen through it. I turned left, following the path of stone around the moat, but keeping my eyes firmly on the tip of the stalagmite. And as I came around the bend, I saw her sitting there. The top 1/3 of the stalagmite had been carved into a throne, and was occupied by one of the most ferocious looking women I have ever seen.

Her skin was grey – almost stone-like in color, but did not bear the sickly hue often associated with “grey-skin.” It glistened, damp in the humidity of the cavern. She wore a black dress, which I can’t remember very well, only that it had on obsidian glint to it, as though it was beaded with it. And atop her head was the most unforgettable “crown” – that appeared almost like an overturned spider, with eight, wicked legs pointing upward. I swear they may have even moved – but if they did it was very slowly.

I only got a peak at her face, but it was very angular – her cheekbones were the most prominent, her lips were a shade of dark purple, almost black – and it was obvious that they were naturally that color, not painted. And her eyes were a frighteningly light color for her complexion, either a very light grey, if not lilac themselves.

As I came around the throne, her eyes fixed on me and an instantaneous anger shot daggers from her eyes, and her long nails curved around the arms of her throne as she opened her mouth and screamed the most horrifying, blood curdling scream – one of extraordinary and evident anger. I simply stood there, my face unmoving, looking straight into her eyes.

That’s when I awoke. 

After which, when she appeared to watch me, she did not echo the same anger. She was by no means bright and sunny, but she did not exude the unimaginable anger that she did in the dream. She seemed distrustful, bitter, and aloof – which was by far better, in my book. When she appears, its as though she is checking in, to make sure I’ve “changed” – and when she sees that I have, she seems strangely bitter – almost as though she’s trying to catch me in a lie. And when she doesn’t, she just leaves. Every time, though, she gets less and less angry and more and more curious – the last time I saw her, she was leaning over my shoulder to look at something, with that curious sparkle people get in their eyes. When I turned to face her, I saw what may have been an intrigued smile on her face – but then she was gone.

Perhaps you knew her in a past life and you didn’t quite get along? I don’t know much about that kind of thing, but its what popped in my head

Oh, undoubtedly. But I’m not sure which one, because I get some strange, conflicting vibes off of her. I mean, in the dream, the etchings on the walls were very clearly Mayan, and if not, at least of a semi-related group who either influenced the Maya or vice versa. However, she had a very Ereshkigal sort of feel to her – though I have since dealt with Ereshkigal and have found that they are not the same.

It’s very hard to place her – as I’m quite sure she’s a chthonic goddess of some sort, however, caves and spiders are not that helpful, considering…..

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Spider Queen


This is simply a record of a dream I had a few years ago, as such, feel free to disregard or speculate as to who the figure therein may be, because I’m still not entirely sure, but I know that since the dream, I have seen her many times – most often in regards to art, such as when I’m painting or weaving. She makes her presence known and watches, but says nothing and always leaves as abruptly as she arrives.


This dream happened within a series of dreams I had about Doors. While this one happened after the original, this one has been the one that has burned itself most vividly into my memory. It is as follows:

I am in the darkness – one that is so frightfully black, it seems to devour all light and even sound – as I’ve heard many describe a mine as being light. It is a palpable darkness, one that seems to the eyes as to move. And then there was a glow. It was very faint at first, before my eyes became adjusted to its softness. It was most skin to a sort of bioluminescence, though it was the floor that emitted it – calling attention to grand in size the cavern was. The scale was unbelievable. Columns shot up on either side into the blackness above, which the floor could not illuminate. The walls bore carvings, but I couldn’t make them out at such a point.

I began to walk forward, with every step my eyes were able to make out more and more through the blackness overhead – but as I came nearer and nearer to the end of the hall, I took not of the barely glimmering filaments before me. And as I walked, the filaments that hung from above began to part like a great curtain, and I saw then that on the end of each strand was a spider. They parted as I walked, scurrying toward either wall in such a way the formed a blanketed canopy on either side of me. It was then I noticed that it was not the floor that was glowing, but the light from beneath a door I was walking toward – which crept underneath in a lilac-tinted haze.

There are few words to describe how large the door was. It was monumental, rising straight up for what could have been a hundred, two hundred feet straight up – and every inch of their surface bore the same etchings as before, only now they were visible. I don’t remember them specifically, but they looked to be Mayan. However, while there were the characteristic sections of sectioned words that Mayan is known for – they are chunked into squares that form words – there were also great, stela, relief scenes of what looked to be a battle or story. As I said, I can’t remember the exacts of what was depicted thereon, but I remember it being a great and impressive thing to behold. And as I came to the door, the glowing from beneath grew stronger and painted me in a matching hue. I remember being thinking I should be in awe of such a grand piece of art and craftsmanship, but I wasn’t – as though I had seen it thousands of times.

I touched the face of the door, and without an ounce of exertion, the whole giant door (it was actually a set of double doors, I opened the right half) swung with a grinding noise as the stone moved over stone and the lilac light ceased and the cavern – which was just as massive – was lit overhead by one sky-light. The cavern, which was not nearly as wide as it was tall, shot upwards through what could be best described as clouds – though it was more of a mist. However, I think that speaks for the grandiosity of the cavern, that it was so large it had developed its own climate. It was through the clouds that the light shone done in a single column, illuminating a towering stalagmite. But it was still note a sense of awe that came over me, but one of dread. It was not fear, though it probably should have been, but it was more like a sense of discomfort. Such as the feeling you get when you’re about to do something you really don’t want to do. A “happy” blend of anxiety and annoyance.

I walked into the cave – and found that around the stalagmite was a “moat” of sorts, but filled with a foreboding, black “water.” Like the sea at night, when nothing can be seen through it. I turned left, following the path of stone around the moat, but keeping my eyes firmly on the tip of the stalagmite. And as I came around the bend, I saw her sitting there. The top 1/3 of the stalagmite had been carved into a throne, and was occupied by one of the most ferocious looking women I have ever seen.

Her skin was grey – almost stone-like in color, but did not bear the sickly hue often associated with “grey-skin.” It glistened, damp in the humidity of the cavern. She wore a black dress, which I can’t remember very well, only that it had on obsidian glint to it, as though it was beaded with it. And atop her head was the most unforgettable “crown” – that appeared almost like an overturned spider, with eight, wicked legs pointing upward. I swear they may have even moved – but if they did it was very slowly.

I only got a peak at her face, but it was very angular – her cheekbones were the most prominent, her lips were a shade of dark purple, almost black – and it was obvious that they were naturally that color, not painted. And her eyes were a frighteningly light color for her complexion, either a very light grey, if not lilac themselves.

As I came around the throne, her eyes fixed on me and an instantaneous anger shot daggers from her eyes, and her long nails curved around the arms of her throne as she opened her mouth and screamed the most horrifying, blood curdling scream – one of extraordinary and evident anger. I simply stood there, my face unmoving, looking straight into her eyes.

That’s when I awoke. 

After which, when she appeared to watch me, she did not echo the same anger. She was by no means bright and sunny, but she did not exude the unimaginable anger that she did in the dream. She seemed distrustful, bitter, and aloof – which was by far better, in my book. When she appears, its as though she is checking in, to make sure I’ve “changed” – and when she sees that I have, she seems strangely bitter – almost as though she’s trying to catch me in a lie. And when she doesn’t, she just leaves. Every time, though, she gets less and less angry and more and more curious – the last time I saw her, she was leaning over my shoulder to look at something, with that curious sparkle people get in their eyes. When I turned to face her, I saw what may have been an intrigued smile on her face – but then she was gone.

Standard

My favorite hobby consists of luring unsuspecting victims into my car and driving into the middle of nowhere while talking their ear off, and then telling them:

“Now get us back to town.”

Always keep tabs on your surroundings – especially in the company of those you trust.

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The Removal of the Heart

When I created this process, I had been through a very rough
period in my life. A dear friend and ex-lover of mine went missing and, if that
were not enough, I – as a witch – had a very hard time dealing with the fact I
was not able to find him. At was at this time, I made the choice to drink
Morning Glory tea and seek him out – what I found was all the more
heartbreaking. I knew he had gone from this life – and lo and behold, months
later the news arrived. It was at this time – because, even though I knew he
had perished, there was a touch of hope that perhaps I had misinterpreted the
signs, misunderstood the message – that I decided to remove my heart.

So, I sat down and worked out the specifics, knowing well
what I was doing. When the time came to do the ritual, I prepared. I had
crossed every “t”, dotted every “I” – but as I began, I knew this was not what
it seemed. I had written it to free myself of the heartache by means of
metaphorically removing my heart. What I found was all the more placating. As
the ritual proceeded, I knew I would not be removing my heart – but memorializing
it. I penned out a lengthy letter, in which I tied up all loose ends – not just
with the aforementioned, but all loose ends of my life. I wrote them all out
and folded the paper inside the heart, let the wax seal it in and I had done what
needed doing, and made an oath then and there:

All these things, I
will carry with me always, but no longer might they hold me back. They have
been sealed in the past, so that I may move forward – but forever, all of them
will remain, tucked away in my chest.

I sealed up that heart, wrapped it in cloth and then stowed
it away in a miniature, wooden chest (Word
of wisdom, though, make sure you remember where you stash it, because I spent
20 minutes searching all over for the damned thing so I could take a photo or
two!).


So, if you are ready to allow the past be the past, and seal
up the memories – I have brought to you the ritual.


Things You’ll Need:

For the Heart

  • Air-Dry or Oven Bake Clay – however, if you have a kiln, by
    all means… – also, as a last ditch, you can use clay-rich soil/dirt, I talk
    about the process here
  • Wax – you can use candlewax or paraffin, which can be found
    at most supermarkets (you’ll have to ask someone, because no place puts it in
    the same damn section [I’m not still bitter])
  • (Optional) Paint – I used red and pink wax, so I forewent
    the painting process

For the Rest

  • A Box/Chest/Bag or other Storage Option
  • Time (& other supplies of your choosing) – as I said, I
    sat down and wrote everything out, but that isn’t the only way. If you want to
    burn some things, scream, do a little crying, do what you need to do, just make
    sure you have something to stuff into the heart!

  1. The process is relatively simple, but somewhat time
    consuming. Begin by sculpting your heart – as you can see, I went the more
    anatomical route, but the symbolic heart is perfectly fine – it’s your heart,
    sculpt it however you damn well please. However, you’re going to want to hollow
    it at least partially out. That’s where you’ll be shoving all the memories and
    tokens and whatnot. After complete, allow it to cure – through air drying or
    oven baking. This can be a timely process, don’t rush it.
  2. Once completely dry, in a double boiler, melt your wax. It’s
    not recommended to melt paraffin in the microwave, as it’s a minor fire hazard.
    If you don’t happen to have a double boiler, a bowl that snuggly hugs the sides
    of a pot will work just fine – though not plastic, that would be another
    hazard. Once the wax is thoroughly melted, remove it from the boiler and allow
    it to cool momentarily. On a nonstick surface, such as wax paper or aluminum
    foil, place your heart hollow side up. Pour the wax into the hollow and turn it
    so that it evenly coats the inside. This may also take some time. After a few
    moments, the wax cools enough to touch – so you can work it with your hands.
  3. Once the inside has cooled enough to remain solid, cover the
    rest, following the same procedure, allowing it to cool and then working it
    with your hands. This seals any cracks and also gives the added bonus of a
    nice, smooth, shiny coat once hardened.
  4. Once the heart is complete, the rest is very much up to you –
    however you wish to go about it. I went through a lengthy process of setting up
    an entire table for the working – covered in photos, keepsakes and the like
    (which I then boxed separately for safe keeping, out of sight and out of mind).
    After having written the very long letter, I folded it up and placed it inside,
    then melted a bit of wax over it to secure both it and a candle – which I lit
    and let burn down so that it would seal it the rest of the way.

As seen above, I keep
mine in a small cedar box, wrapped in a handkerchief on a bed of Sulphur – but your
choice of storage is entirely up to you.


As a word of warning, since the “removal” I become a witchy-nun – vows and everything, so that could be a possible side effect, I’m not entirely sure.

Gallery