Fairy #6




In love with the Wasco Clown


The attraction is hard to explain, but that eerie feeling I get when I think of him, fluttering in my stomach like a zombie butterfly, is quite arousing. Never since Stephen King’s IT, has there been a clown as tantalizingly creepy as this Wasco Clown. Suffice it to say I am taking Halloween very seriously this year. I am watching American Horror Story practically in slow mo, browsing the web for serial killer biographies at 2 in the morning and flipping through articles about unsolved murders that are most fraught with supernatural lore. Regrettably, although I hear that haunted houses are on a whole other level this year, I must as per usual abstain from their offerings. I suffer from an imagination that is entirely too exuberant for this kind of attraction, it prevents me from partaking in gory dramatizations that are all around too effectual. It is an unfortunate but necessary sacrifice in favor of mental health. It’s good to know one’s limitations. 😛


I just got my costume in the mail with all of its accompaniments and accessories, I am taking the task of dressing up this Halloween as seriously as the rest of it, down to the stockings and wigs. I am not terribly proud of the fact that it’s definitely pretty rather than scary or funny. Vanity got the best of me whilst browsing through my costume options online.  I mean can you blame me, what girl really in her heart of hearts prefers dressing up as a fetid, putrefying corpse rather than a princess. Next thing I knew there was a purchase receipt on my computer screen. Oh well. Maybe I’ll man up and give my Little Red Riding Hood a scary hag face, but I doubt it.


Blogging leads back to Noveling “Excerpt” #1

art, writing

Art: original

Excerpt 1: The Aftermath

“I walked down the street for hours until darkness fell upon the city like a soft blanket. For a time I was all cried out, everything seemed new and strange, even the sight of my moving feet entranced me. While I tried to concentrate all of my attention on the patterns in the broken pavement, in the back of my mind loomed a chilling realization that my life could never be the same. Hours must have passed before I finally felt the pangs of thirst, aching legs spoke up next, pulling me decidedly back into my body. The escalation from discomfort to pain was quick and unsparing. It felt as if 25 pound dumbbells had sprouted from my limbs, with another draping itself around my neck. I hailed a cab and requested to be taken to the closest hotel. All I wanted then was to free my throbbing feet from their shoes and disappear. While the entirety of my luggage, including my purse, had been abandoned at the apartment, my wallet was, luckily, in the pocket of my coat. I handed the cabby some loose cash and dragged myself into the hotel lobby. I don’t remember much after that. Somehow, in a daze, set on “automatic”, I managed to check in and make it up to the room. Heaviness is all I can really recall, so steadily it pressed itself upon me. My feet, my hands, even my head were filled, to what felt like their absolute limit, with gravity, too heavy to be carried around for another second. I laid them down on the bed with the rest of me and gave in to a dreamless sleep.”