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unknown
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« on: March 19, 2007, 08:16:09 pm »

Horror Stories




A place to post original horror stories...
« Last Edit: April 18, 2007, 06:58:27 am by unknown » Report Spam   Logged

"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
Elphias Levi

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unknown
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« Reply #1 on: March 23, 2007, 09:18:56 am »

just a fun little short...

The Drive Inn




Dear Readers Digest,

I am sending this to you, per your request for bad experiences at the movies. A conversation I had with my daughter, started me thinking about the night I stopped going to the movies. So when I read your ad, I had to write and tell you about my experience.

My greatest joy in life is my daughter Lisa. Last week I was sitting in my Lazy Boy recliner; rocking her, she has the prettiest blue eyes and the most darling curly blonde hair.

“Mama, we saw the scariest movie at the mall, it was all about skeletons and monkeys and pirates! Why don’t you ever go to the movies with us Mama?” Lisa asked with the cutest look of concentration on her face.

“Lisa, honey do you know what a drive-in is?” I asked her.

“No Mama,” she replied.

"Well that’s were you drive your car to a giant screen and you sit in your car and watch the movie." She looked more puzzled then before, twirling her little curls around a finger.

“Mama had a bad experience at the drive-in and she hasn’t been back since, and she doesn't go to the movies. We’ll just rent some movies and watch them at home, OK. Hon.?”

Well OK. Mama, but I think your being silly,” Lisa said.


It was autumn, the leaves were falling and the sun was setting red in the sky. My sister Mary was pissed, because our parents had insisted she and her boyfriend Ron, take me with them to the Drive-In. “You little brat, I’ll get you for this,” she threatened.

I stuck my tongue out at her as far as it would go, I didn’t care whether she liked it or not. I loved vampire movies and this was going to be a good one, Christopher Lee, Taste The Blood of Dracula.

My mother always packed us a big snack for the Drive-In. This time we had hot dogs, kept warm in a mason jar filled with hot water, along with some buns, mustard, ketchup, pickles, some cold pork and beans and popcorn. Ron stopped at the IGA and got a six-pack of Stroh's and some Pepsi.

The details of that night are so clear in my mind. I even remember the sound of Ron’s black Toronado crunching through the gravel of the drive-in. Ron always got there early to get a spot near the screen. Just as we were settling in, the projection machine started up, showing us a commercial for dancing popcorn and singing candy bars. I always wondered why the light of the projection machine always looked like it was streaming through a fog.

“Can I have a Pepsi, Mary?” If you never tasted Pepsi ice cold, out of a glass bottle, you never really tasted Pepsi. The movie started and so did the necking. I covered my eyes. My sister Mary looked back at me and said, “Ha, ha look at the little baby.”

“I am not a baby!” I protested.

***

As I peaked through my fingers the female lead in the movie was bludgeoning her cruel father to death with a shovel and Ron’s hand was snaking its way under Mary’s blouse, “Mary's got cooties! Mary's got the cooties.” I loved teasing her.

“Just watch the movie Sheryl, and don’t you dare tell Mom and Dad, got it,” she demanded. She knew I wouldn't squeal. Just then the Pepsi started kicking in and I had to pee bad.

“Mary take me to the bathroom, I gotta pee,” I begged.

“Baby gotta go potty?” Mary said mocking me.

I wasn’t going to take that from her, no matter how scared I was, “Forget you Mary.”
I'll show her, I'm gonna get a giant garlic pickle and I'm not gonna share.


I pulled the door handle and stepped out into the darkness, winding my way through the maze of cars; watching Dracula's twenty-foot face contorting as he hypnotized a girl on the screen. Once I got into the light of the concession stand I ran for the door of the bathroom and rushed into the nearest stall. I pulled down my drawers quickly, hopped on the pot…whoosh. Oh, that was close.

When I stepped out of the stall; I saw a lady facing away from me. She was dressed in a flowing white gown, her long white hair falling to her waist, she was moving her hands around as if searching for a light fixture in the dark.

“Are you alright lady?” I asked.

“Come here and help me child,” the white lady's voice sounded funny as if it was coming from far away.

I went to her and reached out for her hand, she turned and, oh my god, her eyes are all white.

"Don’t be afraid, Sheryl, I’m blind, please help me,” the white ladies voice was soothing and compelling, “Give me your hand dear.”

I am being silly, Oh the poor woman, wait...how did she know my name! I started to back away slowly; her upper lip started curling up like a snarling dog’s, revealing two long sharp, canine teeth. White-eyes staring sightless, arms snatching the air like a cat at play, searching for me. I turned too quickly and tripped. She rushed forward hearing me fall. I scrambled to my feet as her arms snatched the air where I had lain. I ran screaming hysterically. A couple saw me and tried to grab my arm, "Hey slow down!" I had to get out of there, I ran scrambling my feet slipping and skidding in the gravel.

As I jumped in the back Mary said, “What happened to you?”

I sat in the dark trembling, ”Let’s go Mary,” I begged.

“Are you sick? You're shaking all over, Sheryl,” Mary said, “Ron can we go?”

“Yah, sure, gotta get more beer anyway,” Ron said.


Sincerely, Sheryl Brownie


P.S. Dear Readers Digest, I swear it's true, I hope you don’t think I’m nuts.
« Last Edit: April 04, 2007, 05:40:19 am by unknown » Report Spam   Logged

"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
Elphias Levi
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« Reply #2 on: March 23, 2007, 12:12:42 pm »

That's so cute!  Needs some more imagery, me thinkest, but not much.  Nice job.
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« Reply #3 on: March 23, 2007, 01:24:41 pm »

Actually I was trying  keep the language simple to make it sound more like the characters voice...I think it worked?

It is sickeningly cute isn't it!



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"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
Elphias Levi
Morrison
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« Reply #4 on: March 24, 2007, 03:47:00 pm »

It's less gothic sounding from your other tales, Unknown, and yet, I thought it still worked. 

"Dear Reader's Digest," fooled me.  For an instant, I thought it actually was a letter to Reader's Digest.
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unknown
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« Reply #5 on: March 24, 2007, 06:47:28 pm »

Thanks Morrison

this is kind of a nostalga piece with a twist
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"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
Elphias Levi
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« Reply #6 on: March 25, 2007, 01:47:49 am »

I liked it!  I thought it was very cute.
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« Reply #7 on: March 25, 2007, 02:10:52 am »

Thanks Heather Grin

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"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
Elphias Levi
unknown
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« Reply #8 on: April 02, 2007, 01:42:48 am »





Erzsébet the new Queen of Cats



Nestled in the rolling hills of New Hampshire, along the Contoocook River is the five-year-old New England College, only a twenty-minute drive from Concord. The year is 1962, it is the month of October and the leaves are swirling dream-like in the fall breeze. The land is covered in a rosy blanket, quilted with orange and yellow patches. The leaves that rustle in the trees are dazzling in their last burst of vital energy before the onset of the somnolent winter.

In this quaint liberal and professional College is an auditorium and the Professor is watching as the students file down the stairs and plant themselves into their seats. The Professor’s skin is porcelain white contrasting sharply with her black suit coat, she wears black horned rimmed glasses that only accentuate her exotic and intelligent eyes, her lustrous black hair is bound tightly back in a double bun.

Her name is Elizabeth Nadasdy she is about five-foot six, thin yet curvy. She teaches English literature, Comparative religion and Latin. Tonight her Comparative Religion class is being treated to a guest lecturer, Charles Montagne: author, psychic researcher and self-professed expert on vampire lore.

Elizabeth looked out into the expectant crowd, “Alright class…as you know this evening we have a very special quest lecturer and author of the controversial, Vampires Slumber, Amongst Us. Charles Montagne, Mr. Montagne?” He was a tall fellow wearing a tan suede jacket with patches on the elbows: his face was sun-tanned bronze, he had wavy brown Hair and hazel eyes, he approached the podium with long slow strides, as the audience cheered and whistled.

“Good Evening,” he said, in the worst imitation of Bela Lugosi anyone had ever heard. They laughed at him but it had warmed the audience up, just as he knew it would. “Tonight I am here to talk to you about the history, pyschology, and cultural significance of the vampire.” “Shhh,” he whispered, “don’t tell anyone, but I’m really here to sell copies of my new book.” There was a muffled sound of amusement from the audience.

“Let’s get started shall we? I hope to convince you that, the vampire is not simply a Hollywood creation or just a primitive superstition. Carl Jung might have explained it is a persistent manifestation of the “collective unconscious,” an archetype. The vampire has been with us since the very beginning of civilization. The belief is found among the Chaldeans of Mesopotamia along the Tigris and Euphrates River: the rumored location of the Garden of Eden, it is found on Assyrian artifacts and Lilith herself appears in the Epic Of Gilgamesh. "Who can tell me about Lilith? Yes, the young lady in the second row.”

A bleached-blonde in an incredibly tight, red cardigan sweater that made her chest look like the launching pad for two interplanetary rockets, stood up, “She’s the Gloria Steinem of prehistory, the first women’s libber, and the first wife of Adam. Hey, that means she was the first one to get a divorce too.” The crowed laughed at this and her face turned nearly as red as her sweater.

“Yes the divorce! I’ll get to that in a moment. I think you have encapsulated the modern outlook on Lilith quite well, dear. However, the being known as Lilith is derived primarily from Babylonian Demonology. She is a divine: but terrible mother Goddess a devourer, a destroyer, she is called Lilitu the "wind-spirit." She can be found on Assyrian stone and clay tablets. In Kramer’s translation of The Epic Of Gilgamesh, “she is the demon that builds its nest in the tree.” She is the Coriolis storm in the desert that blinds--that eats flesh from bone. She is the screech owl screeching, the leopard pouncing, the jackal feeding, the shadow that paralyzes in the night and the demon lover who drains away life.

Lilith is now usually spoken of in terms of the Hebrew tradition. The only reference in the Christian Bible specifically is in Isaiah. Although she appears quite extensively in the post-biblical writings of Jewish mysticism: in the kabalistic interpretation of Lilith, she is shown as the other half of Adam, when mankind is still said to be in its hermaphroditic more spiritual state. This can be understood in terms of their belief in a spiritual descent of man into the flesh. Adam and Lilith were split, shall we say, from one being into two. They fight over dominance and Lilith flies away by uttering God’s ineffable name. Lilith bears children fathered by either Adam or Samael, or by a demon host gathered in the desert, depending upon which version of the story your reading. Three angels take Lilith’s children from her; the names of these angels are used on amulets as a ward against her. Three to one, I guess they weren’t taking any chances.

In vengeance for being cheated out of her birthright as the mother of mankind and for the loss of her firstborn young; Lilith seeks out the newborn children of Adam and Eve suffocating them in their cradles. These newborn are under her dominion, for an allotted time, she also seduces young men appearing in wet dreams, to continue spawning a race of her own. According to some authorities, she is immortal and not subject to death as were Adam and Eve, because she did not partake of the fruit of the tree of knowledge.”

Professor Nadasdy interrupted, “Isn’t this story simply a metaphor for the prehistoric battle between matriarchal and patriarchal societies?”

“Well, I believe, there is far more to it than that Professor.” Charles Montagne said, “In the fourteenth century amulets were still being made and ceremonies performed to ward her off, must especially as a protection against what we now call crib death or SIDS, and the haunting and sometimes terrifying experience of sleep paralysis.

The belief in vampires and the succubus, which are closely related, spans the globe; there are similar myths that appear in ancient Egypt, for instance Baphomet the cat headed-goddess has to be tricked into not consuming the world in her anger. In India, we have Kali the destroyer; these destroyer goddesses are both similar to Lilith in her original nature. In Greece we have the Legend of the Lamia, the goddess Hera kills the queen of Libya’s children she is cursed and roams the world feeding on the newborn, enticing men into sex and then…devouring them. In China the chiang-shihs, India the rakshasa and the vetala, the similarities in these beliefs is uncanny. Now what I am leaving out, can anybody help me out here, I am always forgetting something?”

“Dracula!” Chimed in the girl in the red Cardigan.

“Dracula smacula, I want to hear about the Bloody Countess,” yelled a dark-haired waif in the back row, chewing on the end of a pen.

“Yes your right again dear!” Charles said, aiming his finger at the girl in the bulbous red cardigan. “Bram Stoker’s character Dracula is the basis for our twentieth century conception of the vampire. In Poland, Romania and Hungary the belief in vampires was very strong, it’s probably no wonder since the nobility were pale as death, and most likely suffering from porphryia.” At this point Charles noticed, Professor Nadasdy wincing. Charles continued, “The Eastern European nobility were famous for the sadistic and cruel treatment of their servants and of the peasant population in general. Who can tell me what the Bloody Countess’s nickname was in her own country?”

“The ****,” shouted, the waif in the back, relinquishing the end of the thick pen from her mouth for just a moment.

Before Charles could speak again, Professor Nadasdy interrupted, “are you in this class, young lady?”

“Yes, my name is, Lucy Westin check your attendance sheet!” the waif said a little miffed at the question.

“I don’t allow swearing in my class, got it!” Professor Nadasdy threatened.

Nancy Westin replied, “Well ‘****…’ is what they called her.”

Professor Nadasdy exclaimed, “ I don’t want to hear it young lady, is that understood!”

“Yes Professor,” Lucy Westin said in her snottiest tone.

“The Countess Bathory is a fascinating character. Her and her accomplices tortured and killed an estimated three hundred women. It is said she was incredibly vain, so vain in fact that she bathed in the blood of young women because she believed it would keep her beautiful….”

Elizabeth exclaimed, “You make it sound as if she was a one-dimensional character, a complete monster. Did you know that she was a devoted wife and mother of four children, that she was a cousin to the king, that her family was so great that their name was changed to Bathory, meaning “the valiant.” That her husband was called the Black Hero of Hungary and died in battle defending his country! How do you know that it was not disease that drove her to these crimes!” Elizabeth eyes glared at Charles Montagne, “Without this same family Europe would have fallen to a Turkish invasion, aren’t you in the least grateful? Don’t you think that you’re being unfair?”

Now it was open war, a game of cat and mouse between them, but who was the cat and who was the mouse?

“No, Ms. Nadasdy, I don’t think I am being unfair at all, it is well known how she cruelly pricked the young woman with pins, and hot irons to make them bleed. How she hung them in baskets covered with needles, from the ceiling and showered beneath them in their blood. This woman was rightfully convicted of witchcraft, and her accomplishes were summarily executed. She however being an aristocrat, as you mentioned, was allowed to live.”

“You call that living! Walled up, alone in a tower, it would have been more merciful to have executed her!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Have you no understanding of what kind of hell that is!”

“As I--was about to say,” Charles, said slowly, ignoring her question. “The historical figure that Bram Stoker’s Dracula, is loosely based on is Vlad Tepes. The name Dracula is translated as the son of the devil or the son of the dragon; I presume, Vlad was called this because of his notorious reputation for committing crimes of torture and mass murder.”

Regaining her composure, Professor Nadasdy interrupted again, “But isn’t it also true he is recognized as a national hero, that he held the Turks at bay protecting his country from invasion?” She waited for a moment, “I asked you a question Mr. Montagne,” Professor Nadasdy said softly, but stared at him insistently.

“Hitler loved his dog, and Capone gave to charity. What of it?” Charles replied nonchalantly. “May I continue?” Charles asked politely.

“Please do,” Professor Nadasdy said, adjusting her glasses.

“There are four possible causes of vampirism usually discussed: infection by bite, or the drinking of vampire blood, possession by a demon spirit, and probably the least discussed but not least likely is black magic.”

There are many cases of vampirism reported by sworn witnesses, for instance the case of …” Charles went on like this for quite some time. He staid well past the time he was scheduled for: answering questions, autographing copies of his book and casually flirting with the young ladies. The little dark haired waif, Lucy Westin approached him.

“Mr. Montagne, I have to talk to you, but not here. Can you meet me in the College Library at say, 8:00 o’clock, tomorrow night? Please say yes, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

Charles replied, “What’s this all about Ms. Westin, it is Ms. Westin right?”

“Yes it is, something strange is going on, just promise to meet me!” Nancy Westin said quietly but insistently.

Charles replied, “Tomorrow night it is then, Ms.Westin cross my heart, OK.”

“I better get going before she gets suspicious.” Lucy said, as she glanced nervously around. Then walked off the stage.

When all the kids had finally filed out of the auditorium, Professor Nadasdy put her arm around Charles’s arm looked into his eyes and said, “Lets go have coffee, we should talk. There’s a lovely little dinner just up the road.”

“Why certainly, Professor Nadasdy, I’d love to!” He replied.

“Call me Elizabeth…Charles?” She asked with the slight hint of question in her soft sultry voice.

***

They sat across from each other in the little white dinner with red-checkered table clothes with the sound of dishes clinking and a soft murmur coming from the other patrons in the place.

“Why are you really here Charles? We don’t usually get big name celebrities in this neck of the woods?”

“Why Elizabeth, you do have a sense of humor after all!” Charles said, truly surprised.

“You are avoiding the question, lovey,” she said.

“Not at all, it is just part of the gig, book tour and all that you understand,” he said.

“So you’re not hunting…for something in particular?” she said as the waitress brought over two steaming hot cups of coffee. “Thank you Delores,” she said to the waitress.

“Yah--up,” the waitress replied.

“Well right now, I have something in my sights that looks pretty appetizing,” he said as he winked at her.

“You’re incorrigible Mr. Montagne,” she said staring straight into his eyes, with just the hint of a smile twisting the corners of her sweetly sculpted lips.

“Well shucks, Mam I don’t often meet a fine filly like you.” He said in a horrendous western accent.

“I warn you, Charles I am more than you can handle.” Elizabeth laughed.

"We shall see,” Charles replied.

***

Charles Montagne tossed his keys on the dresser of the little cabin he had rented, kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed. It’s her.

***

It was near midnight and Charley was dreaming. He saw himself standing naked in a field. He looked in the sky at the enormous moon hanging overhead, like the sword of Damocles. He had always known, even as a child that it was not a “man in the moon,” but a woman. Diana, the Goddess of the moon glared down at him making him feel small and exposed beneath her. An owl in the dark forest surrounding the clearing screeched shrilly, startling and freezing him in place his heart thumping wildly.

Then it began, from all sides they came, ripples in the grass of the field. He saw them now dozens of cats moving in unison, drawing closer. They gathered around him now in a tight circle mewling in heat and hissing, their tales swinging in cat rhythm, when those tails stopped swinging…

He awoke in the dark, damn that was weird. He tried to get up he couldn’t, s***, there was a weight pushing on him. It became heavier, and he sank into the bed. He struggled to move; I am caught between being asleep and being awake, that’s all.

His blankets flew off the bed floating down near the far wall, exposing him to the night air. He felt fingers sliding slowly, gently down his body from his shoulders: over his chest, across his belly. A wet push into his belly button and then a swirl, he gasped. Sharp teeth sunk into his left nipple, making it stand at attention. He felt a wet breath in his ear, fingers caressing his hair. Oh Jesus. Now nails gently raked his thighs up and back, He felt a sharp wet bite on his upper left thigh. His paralyzed body now fully aroused, the sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging. But there was nothing he could do.

He felt the weight, the wetness as the shadow slid down upon him. He felt it gripping, tugging at him as it slid slowly down, then up. No, this isn’t happening! He heard wet noises, felt the warmth of darkness; the shadow thing had come for him…it had come to claim his seed.

***

He awoke. He could see that it was dark outside through the thick green polyester curtains of the cabin window. What the hell time is it? He rolled his legs off the bed. He noticed his covers lying near the far wall. God I can hardly move. He reached for his watch on the nightstand it was seven fifteen. He felt his body he had small puncture wounds on his left thigh and his left nipple, I slept through the whole day? I have just enough time to make it to the library.

***

He drove up to the library entrance in his white, two-door Olds Convertible. Ms. Westin was wearing a black mini skirt, white office blouse and a black suit coat and very wicked looking high heels. She was walking back and forth in front of the Library, click, clock, click, clock, quickly puffing a cigarette and forcefully blowing the smoke out.

“Look Mr. Montagne--,”

He interrupted her, “Call me Charles.”

"All right Charles, I know this is going to sound crazy but there is something weird happening on campus the boys, I mean their lifeless and all they talk about is Professor Nadasdy, I am not just jealous either! Other things--girls have been disappearing."

The wind suddenly roared showering leaves in their faces, then swarming around Charles and Lucy.

“What the hell! Let’s get out of here!” They ran for the Olds struggling against the leaves that swirled furious in the air about them. Just as Charles hand was reaching the door handle he saw her, Professor Nadasdy.

She stood in the middle of the road, “hello lovey,” she said putting her glasses in her pocket, pulling out the clasp and shaking loose her hair, it flowed in the wind, surrounding her head waving hypnotically like the hood of a Cobra.

From the other side of the car her heard Lucy laughing, “he fell for it, just like you said he would Erzsébet.” Charles looked at her through the tempest of leaves swirling about them, realizing his mistake.

“What do you want!” he shouted over the wind.

“Why lovey? I got everything I wanted from you last night,” she laughed, her voice born on the wind struck him with a physical force. He realized his only chance was the car. He grabbed the top of the door and just as he was in mid-hop into the seat the wind caught him and flung him over the car and thirty feet across the parking lot. He skidded painfully on the side of his face and one shoulder, another ten feet, the asphalt ripping through his clothes and embedding small stones in his tender flesh. Dazed and bleeding he began struggling to his knees. He saw them both walking slowly towards him, a wicked little triumphant smile on their faces.

“Did you really think you could outwit me boy? I survived death, look upon me boy! I conquered age, ” Erzsébet said taunting him.

“I have danced with the devil herself, I am her handmaiden, what are you but a simpering half-man. The Black Hero of Hungary, that was a worthy male for my attentions; hard as iron in body and mind, how far your kind has fallen in these days of luxury and comfort. What a truly weak and pathetic fool of a creature you are.”

Charles went for his boot knife, pulling it out as he leapt up, “I’ll cut your black-heart out, blood-sucking ****!” Erzsébet lifted a hand and he was tossed through the air, this time his back slamming hard into a nearby oak, falling to the ground. He lay there coughing up blood and watching them.

“Ohhh, Charles this is really going to hurt, too bad you’re kind of cute--for an old guy.” Lucy taunted blowing him a kiss and pointing her derringer at him.

Erzsébet began to chant, a wicked beam lighting her eyes,

“Baalat, Belit-illi…
Lilit-Malakath-Ha-Shadim, Come to me oh my Queen, my Goddess, your humble servant beseeches thee.
Send me, the spirit of terror, the desert djinns, the wind that devours flesh.

Baalat, Belit-illi…
Lilit-Malakath-Ha-Shadim, Come to me oh my Queen, my Goddess, your humble servant beseeches thee.
Send me, the spirit of dark wisdom, the screech owl in the tree, the voice paralyzing flesh.

Baalat, Belit-illi…
Lilit-Malakath-Ha-Shadim, Come to me oh my Queen, my Goddess, your humble servant beseeches thee.
Send me, the spirit of ferocity, the leopard hunting, the claws that rip flesh.

Baalat, Belit-illi…
Lilit-Malakath-Ha-Shadim, Come to me oh my Queen, my Goddess, your humble servant beseeches thee.
Send me, the spirit of carnal desire, the jackal at the corpse, the jaws that rend flesh.

“Come to me my cats!”

A legion of cats seemed to come trotting in from nowhere and everywhere, hissing and mewling in heat, they surrounded Charles and the tree he lay bleeding under; their tails swinging in cat rhythm and when those tails stopped swinging…

The End
« Last Edit: April 18, 2007, 05:55:28 am by unknown » Report Spam   Logged

"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
Elphias Levi
Sarah
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« Reply #9 on: April 02, 2007, 02:34:45 am »

Wonderful imagery and references ton ancient myths.  Might use a bit of a dash of irony at the end to make it feel more "complete," but other than that, very entertaining and wonderfully written.

Sarah
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unknown
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« Reply #10 on: April 02, 2007, 02:55:54 am »

Hi Sarah

Thanks for reading it...

If I have a sudden ironic inspiration I'll add it in.

« Last Edit: April 18, 2007, 06:59:06 am by unknown » Report Spam   Logged

"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
Elphias Levi
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« Reply #11 on: April 07, 2007, 04:49:56 am »

Well, you have obviously done your research on this one. I like the story, found it suitably creepy, but I think we got to the end a little bit too early. The death could have been prolonged a little bit.

I wonder if the villification of Lillith was part of her original myth or added later? Since she is just a myth, I suppose it really doesn't matter.  I am unfamiliar with the history of Jewish myths, but I do know that a lot of early Christianity was all about villifying the old pagan symbols, we have had those discussions among us many times.

Personally, I would have liked to find out more about Erzsébet.  I have no problems with making her just a villain, I think it works quite well, but I would have liked to have seen her in the story a bit more. I liked the bit about cats and the addition of succubi, I have studied them and the incubi (and the lamia) myself in the past.
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« Reply #12 on: April 07, 2007, 05:11:07 am »

Hi Veronica

My endings suck...I get that a lot...for every one of my stories actually...LOL

I haven't done a story yet from the point of view of the "monster," perhaps at some point I will.



Lilith has a dual nature, Like Baphomet and Kali, for instance Baphomet is a destroyer and a healer.

The gods were more complex in the past, now we have simplified them to the point of being absoutes i.e. absolute good or absolute evil.

When I look at nature I don't see absolutes, the wind can be good...a cooling breeze in summer...it spreads seeds across the ground, it blows the rain clouds that water the earth. Yet it brings it also has terrifying destructive power, the hurricane, the tornado....

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"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
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« Reply #13 on: April 07, 2007, 05:19:27 am »

Nice imagery.  I wouldn't say that your endings suck, this one (and in most) you have the right idea, just tend to get there a little too quickly.  The only ending that I didn't like (and still have a problem with, frankly) is the one for the Devil's Pen. I am of the school that if one is going to kill themself, they had better have a good reason, and I simply haven't seen a reason in that story yet. The story in itself is good, though.

I think what made your story about Anna's Diary so succesful is that we got the chance to see her unravel our eyes, hence, the ending (which is also left suitably vague) comes as no great surprise.

The old gods have been simplified and distorted quite a bit. Take Pan - he started out as some sort of fertiluty god and ended up as the basis for the Christian devil.  He is a perfect example of what I am saying.
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« Reply #14 on: April 07, 2007, 05:32:11 am »

Hi Veronica


I know what your saying, most of these stories could be longer and I admit I have a tendency to rush the endings, my stories since Anna haven't had the same depth of character.

Thanks for critiquing it, it realy helps me see how I can improve my writing.

« Last Edit: April 18, 2007, 06:59:43 am by unknown » Report Spam   Logged

"There exists an agent, which is natural and divine, material and spiritual, a universal plastic mediator, a common receptical of the fluid vibrations of motion and the images of forms, a fluid, and a force, which can be called the Imagination of Nature..."
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