It happened about a week ago, to be specific, but I hesitated on posting about it because I didn't want to come across like a nut. But, I have given in to the temptation to write about it, because it keeps nagging at me and if nothing else it may give you horror and paranormal writers some inspiration.
I have had quite a number of inexplicable things happen to me over the years, but I wrote most of them off as 'weird, but not definite proof of anything specific'. I'm not a 100% closed-minded person by any means and believe in a wide range of spiritual concepts, but I lean towards a healthy dose of skepticism. It keeps an imaginative person like yours truly balanced.
I have seen UFOs, but at a distance -- not close enough to prove them as, yes, definitely a giant alien spacecraft hovering on my front yard, complete with little green men peering curiously at this lower life form. I have heard the sound of someone invisible loudly clapping their hands beside me (even ghosts think I'm awesome!), and had an invisible force shove my leg hard enough to move me sideways, but one cannot definitely prove those things as not being bizarre hallucinations. The only proven odd experience (one which I had a second reliable witness with me at the time of, who observed the same phenomena) I have had is seeing blinding white flashes of light indoors in my room, as if someone had just pressed the flash down on a camera. Now, I am one of those freaky hermits that sits in their room with their blinds closed and curtains drawn most of the day (the sun creates glare on my laptop screen, hiss), so this definitely was not caused by anything outside the room.
But, whatever, right? Maybe I just have some really enthusiastic static going on in there. My presence is electrifying, even to dust.
All of these experiences seemed isolated and benign and never took up much of my conscious thought, which I have mostly devoted to other deeply important things, like Skyrim and memorizing which stores sell the plain kind of Fritos, not just barbeque. Then last week, I had a dream.
In the dream, some kind of entity shifted form, between several people I was close to in the past, who frankly treated me rather horribly and then abandoned me like the happy-go-lucky, soul-sucking leeches they are. When I figured out I was in a dream (something I almost always do -- I know, in my dreams, that I am dreaming. I figure it out, have a full conscious awareness, and even the ability to CHANGE my dreams if I don't like them. My head is my own personal Choose Your Own Adventure novel, you guys), the entity felt 'caught', and tried to flee. I chased it to a closet. When I opened the door to the closet it had shut itself in, before me stood a seven foot tall, red and black demonic... Thing. Which then attacked me. I fought back, and it retreated. I woke up. I thought damn, that was weird, but it was just a dream. And I moved on with the rest of my day.
The following night, I was up late, as is my habit. I was at my bestie's place and we were sitting on our computers. The cat was asleep beside me. All the windows and doors were closed up for the night. The house was still.
Suddenly, we hear an enormous crash. The clock on the kitchen wall, which must weigh 3-5 pounds, has flown across the house, more or less. A good 15 feet. I am not exaggerating this. The nail on which it hung is still perfectly stuck in the wall. The clock seems to have crashed against the fridge on the opposite side of the kitchen, ricocheted, and broken, at precisely 3:33 am, for no readily apparent reason. This clock had previously hung on its wall without an issue for years.
Well, that's odd. I didn't let it get to me, though, mainly because I was too lazy to be freaked out enough to go home or even go upstairs. I shrug and go back to the internet (priorities are priorities, after all). This, my dear readers, is why horror is the one genre I simply cannot write. Can you imagine it? "Just at the moment the terrifying apparition appears and the windows begin to rattle as if shaken by the distant thunders of hell, our hero sees something really interesting on Tumblr..."
Yeah, that one isn't going to work out for me.
As I browse the net like the alarmingly complacent social media junkie I am, my bestie says to me, "It's really odd the clock stopped at exactly 333. In chaos magic that's the number of a major demon." Curious, I look it up. Yep, he's right. According to chaos magic (which I don't know much about, so don't ask me how credible it is, but I tend to treat all religious beliefs as equally credible), it's the number associated with a major demon who is apparently known for changing form frequently, and attacking people before staging mock retreats, as if luring them into the false notion they can beat him. Well, looks like the weird cake just got its icing, kids.
Fortunately, I am pleased to report that I haven't yet started speaking in tongues, crosses haven't started vanishing from houses I enter, the walls aren't bleeding, and basically nothing too spooky has happened since. I am guessing that he didn't enjoy all the hours of browsing for humorous pictures of cats.
Contemporary poetry and fiction. Art. Photography. Reviews. My journey as an aspiring author. DIY and Indie all the way. Beauty and rebirth in the shadows.
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Saturday, 27 July 2013
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Macoun Marsh, Ottawa
This surprising little patch of life, home to 1200 species known species of flora and fauna, directly abuts the sprawling, manicured grounds of Beechwood Cemetery, just off of St. Laurent Boulevard.
Macoun Marsh is lucky to exist at all -- it used to be part of a larger wooded area that flanked the southeastern end of the cemetery, an area which has since been lost forever to the increasing intensity of urban development within the city of Ottawa. The marsh was saved by the dedicated efforts of the students of the St-Laurent Academy, under the tutelage of teacher Mike Leveille and with the aid of the Beechwood Cemetery. It has since served as their research project, an 'outdoor classroom', and has won several awards for its unique efforts to preserve biodiversity within an urban space.
Many educational plaques line the trail:
I am personally very grateful to the efforts of these students and Mr. Leveille; I believe conserving small patches of truly natural land such as this one within the city is vital to the health, well-being, and harmony of us all, along with conserving valuable islands of habitat for rare species. The tranquility of these microcosms within the noise, smoke, and stress of the urban world is priceless. In my photos, I tried to capture the essence of that essential peace.
Prints of some of these are available on my deviantart page for any who are interested: http://phoenixjackson.deviantart.com/
Macoun Marsh is lucky to exist at all -- it used to be part of a larger wooded area that flanked the southeastern end of the cemetery, an area which has since been lost forever to the increasing intensity of urban development within the city of Ottawa. The marsh was saved by the dedicated efforts of the students of the St-Laurent Academy, under the tutelage of teacher Mike Leveille and with the aid of the Beechwood Cemetery. It has since served as their research project, an 'outdoor classroom', and has won several awards for its unique efforts to preserve biodiversity within an urban space.
Many educational plaques line the trail:
I am personally very grateful to the efforts of these students and Mr. Leveille; I believe conserving small patches of truly natural land such as this one within the city is vital to the health, well-being, and harmony of us all, along with conserving valuable islands of habitat for rare species. The tranquility of these microcosms within the noise, smoke, and stress of the urban world is priceless. In my photos, I tried to capture the essence of that essential peace.
Prints of some of these are available on my deviantart page for any who are interested: http://phoenixjackson.deviantart.com/
Monday, 22 July 2013
A very random question...
Yes, this post has little to do with writing or art or... Anything of a significance deeper than burning personal curiosity.
I have grown to consider Spam one of the great mysteries of the internet. There is so much of it. Email, twitter DMs, even SMS... It seems to find one almost wherever one goes.
The mystery in it, for me, is how in the world is it lucrative? Wikipedia states, "Spamming remains economically viable because advertisers have no operating costs beyond the management of their mailing lists," but, be that as it may, surely it still takes a good deal of time to set these systems up? Or to run around Twitter spamming DM boxes? Someone must pay these people to do these things...?
And really, who will click on links describing things like how to meet amorous Asian girls, or how to enlarge one's genitals in a substantial and surely medically unsafe way, unless the person in question is both terribly insecure, and has been living under a rock for, oh, about 15 years now? Surely, all the time and effort and money of those creating these spam messages must be at least 80% in vain? How in the world does such a proliferation still exist? A margin of at least 15% of recipients who click by sheer accident...?
I have grown to consider Spam one of the great mysteries of the internet. There is so much of it. Email, twitter DMs, even SMS... It seems to find one almost wherever one goes.
The mystery in it, for me, is how in the world is it lucrative? Wikipedia states, "Spamming remains economically viable because advertisers have no operating costs beyond the management of their mailing lists," but, be that as it may, surely it still takes a good deal of time to set these systems up? Or to run around Twitter spamming DM boxes? Someone must pay these people to do these things...?
And really, who will click on links describing things like how to meet amorous Asian girls, or how to enlarge one's genitals in a substantial and surely medically unsafe way, unless the person in question is both terribly insecure, and has been living under a rock for, oh, about 15 years now? Surely, all the time and effort and money of those creating these spam messages must be at least 80% in vain? How in the world does such a proliferation still exist? A margin of at least 15% of recipients who click by sheer accident...?
Saturday, 20 July 2013
Review: Lover's Inferno, by Brandy Owens
"Her hand fell on my shoulder. I licked my lips, brought out of my thoughts, and looked up to her face when she spoke.
“Is it true?” she asked me, her voice a higher pitch than her normal, sultry alto. A tremble gyrated in her vocal cords.
My stomach squeezed and flopped. “Yes, but I have no choice. I want no part in it. I want to be with you, Martha,” I confessed . I felt significantly lighter after expressing that aloud, as though some of the weight of my burden lifted from the depths of my very soul. Still, fear churned in me at the knowledge that only the Reaper's unyielding hand could free me from the impending doom that winked at me from the near future. Nothing on Earth or in Heaven or Hell would allow me the only thing I wanted: to live with Martha as a married couple. I could never openly love another woman..."
To keep reading this work, buy it here at Amazon.
I bought this story precisely because it is a short story, one which I could read easily in a sitting. The aim of any short story, in my opinion, is to deliver as much possible impact and imagery into the mind of the reader in a bid to garner an emotional reaction therefrom -- all without having the benefits of lengthy character and plot development afforded to a novel.
In that aim, this story is successful, overall. The vivid, dramatic prose is infused with high levels of emotion and the intricate details of the character's interactions, which has the effect of making the reader almost physically react to what the embattled lovers are going through. The description of the setting and the tactile experiences of the characters in it is similarly rich, bringing to life in the mind's eye the microcosm of this brief tale.
That being said, I felt this story was guilty of a bit of 'telling' rather than showing, notably by repeatedly emphasizing how doomed the lovers are and how cruel is the world in which they live, something that -- at least to my perspective -- took away somewhat from letting the reader feel the tragedy through the characters themselves and the unfolding of the story.
Likewise, the prose could use a bit of fine-tuning in places for minor errors like word repetition and a handful of common grammatical mistakes, and I feel the story would be of greater impact overall if the minor characters were fleshed out a bit more. But certainly, especially given the modest price, this tale is worth a look if you enjoy unrepentantly emotive accounts of forbidden love.
Connect with author Brandy Owens:
Twitter: @wordsandstars
Blog: http://wordsandstars.wordpress.com/
“Is it true?” she asked me, her voice a higher pitch than her normal, sultry alto. A tremble gyrated in her vocal cords.
My stomach squeezed and flopped. “Yes, but I have no choice. I want no part in it. I want to be with you, Martha,” I confessed . I felt significantly lighter after expressing that aloud, as though some of the weight of my burden lifted from the depths of my very soul. Still, fear churned in me at the knowledge that only the Reaper's unyielding hand could free me from the impending doom that winked at me from the near future. Nothing on Earth or in Heaven or Hell would allow me the only thing I wanted: to live with Martha as a married couple. I could never openly love another woman..."
To keep reading this work, buy it here at Amazon.
I bought this story precisely because it is a short story, one which I could read easily in a sitting. The aim of any short story, in my opinion, is to deliver as much possible impact and imagery into the mind of the reader in a bid to garner an emotional reaction therefrom -- all without having the benefits of lengthy character and plot development afforded to a novel.
In that aim, this story is successful, overall. The vivid, dramatic prose is infused with high levels of emotion and the intricate details of the character's interactions, which has the effect of making the reader almost physically react to what the embattled lovers are going through. The description of the setting and the tactile experiences of the characters in it is similarly rich, bringing to life in the mind's eye the microcosm of this brief tale.
That being said, I felt this story was guilty of a bit of 'telling' rather than showing, notably by repeatedly emphasizing how doomed the lovers are and how cruel is the world in which they live, something that -- at least to my perspective -- took away somewhat from letting the reader feel the tragedy through the characters themselves and the unfolding of the story.
Likewise, the prose could use a bit of fine-tuning in places for minor errors like word repetition and a handful of common grammatical mistakes, and I feel the story would be of greater impact overall if the minor characters were fleshed out a bit more. But certainly, especially given the modest price, this tale is worth a look if you enjoy unrepentantly emotive accounts of forbidden love.
Connect with author Brandy Owens:
Twitter: @wordsandstars
Blog: http://wordsandstars.wordpress.com/
Garden-Song
The world carries a soft perfume today,
One that sneaks up on the senses
From a distance,
Dancing in on the rustling breeze
As if from the silk of skirts
Bent as ladies laughed
During elegant teas
Taken in gardens long grown over
And gone to seed
With lacy ghosts
Their genteel murmurs come to us,
Still sung,
On the lazy breath of June
One that sneaks up on the senses
From a distance,
Dancing in on the rustling breeze
As if from the silk of skirts
Bent as ladies laughed
During elegant teas
Taken in gardens long grown over
And gone to seed
With lacy ghosts
Their genteel murmurs come to us,
Still sung,
On the lazy breath of June
Submit to The Phoenix Inn
Reviews:
If you would like to submit your work for review, contact me at electriccandy@gmail.com and include:
Author Name
Title of your story/book
Genre
Word Count
Links to your twitter, Author page, Blogs, etc., along with a short bio if you wish to include one.
If your book is something that would appeal to me as a reader and you are willing to provide me with a free PDF or ePub file, I will consider reviewing and posting said review here and on Amazon.
Guest Posts:
I happily accept guest posts! Just email me (same address as above) and let me know your desired topic, or submit an excerpt from one of your books. I am pretty flexible. Remember to include links to your twitter, Author page, Blogs, etc., along with a short bio if you wish.
Rules for Submission:
-You must be 18 years or older to submit a work of fiction to be reviewed by this blog.
-Submissions must be in English.
-Guest posts should be 5000 words or less, as a general guideline.
If you would like to submit your work for review, contact me at electriccandy@gmail.com and include:
Author Name
Title of your story/book
Genre
Word Count
Links to your twitter, Author page, Blogs, etc., along with a short bio if you wish to include one.
If your book is something that would appeal to me as a reader and you are willing to provide me with a free PDF or ePub file, I will consider reviewing and posting said review here and on Amazon.
Guest Posts:
I happily accept guest posts! Just email me (same address as above) and let me know your desired topic, or submit an excerpt from one of your books. I am pretty flexible. Remember to include links to your twitter, Author page, Blogs, etc., along with a short bio if you wish.
Rules for Submission:
-You must be 18 years or older to submit a work of fiction to be reviewed by this blog.
-Submissions must be in English.
-Guest posts should be 5000 words or less, as a general guideline.
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