nature trail pics 8
nature trail pics 8
if you could touch it, would feel like
thick oil would smell like
tobacco smoke taste
like vinegar and
makes you think about
that flash of movement
you swear you saw, when you were out
tending your tomato plants.
makes you listen to that old lady,
at the end of the bar,
smoking unfiltered hand rolled cigarettes she
made - with arthritic fingers - as she
tells you to
“stay away from
the riverfront at night”
that pretty girls,
who croon old classics,
and move, like -sin- , come from the water.
she might’ve been one
once upon a time
Riverside is on Goodreads! If you’ve preordered an ebook or plan to order a physical copy at release you can now add Riverside to your Want to Read shelf. Shoutout to my beta readers for the awesome reviews ☺️
Sip a glass of red wine by the fire while you think about Ted Bundy in the electric chair with this adorable Burn Bundy Burn lace nightie. This floral lace babydoll nightie features a slilky white bow at the center of a red cloth heart hemmed with lacy white trim. This heart contains hand-painted white text that reads “Burn Bundy Burn!”. All designs on this item are hand-painted with water/heat resistant fabric paint. It can be machine washed warm on the gentle cycle without damage.
-Size small/medium with elasticity in both the waist and neckline
-Material: 100% polyester exclusive of decoration
-Full dress length: 29 inches
-Dress width: 27 inches
-Bust: 15 inches
-Heart design: 8 inches across by 8 inches tall with trim
(Click Here) to check it out on my shop!
I was walking to a friend’s house when I passed this strange, abandoned residence several blocks away. I was drawn off the road, towards the wrought-iron gate. Something about this place felt inexplicably uneasy, and it certainly stood out among the rows of American craftsman homes that openly embraced the curbside. This large colonial house appeared to be a remnant of a past age of architecture, the only one of its kind remaining in the neighborhood, and that alone compelled me closer. The pull from this place was almost magnetic, beckoning me to uncover its secrets.
The first thing I noticed was the flowers behind the gates in full bloom despite the absence of a soul around to care for them. Wildflowers do grow commonly in my area, but these bulbs were not wild - they were planted long ago, and showed signs of being cared for ever since, while the house did not. The juxtaposition of large, colorful blooms with the crumbling facade of an aging manor had an eerie beauty to it. I tried to open the gate to get a closer look, but it was bolted shut. It was then that I noticed the signs, hastily scribbled on boards of plywood and left propped against the collapsing retaining wall. The large spraypainted messages served as an ominous warning to passersby like myself: “PRIVATE PROPERTY - KEEP OUT” and “NO TRESPASSING”. I couldn’t help but wonder whose property this was, as it was so clearly uninhabited. I decided to take some pictures of the property and come back later to explore some more.
To ensure the gate was actually locked, i tried shaking it to see if it would open. While I was doing this, a car driving by on the road slowed down to watch me. They rolled down their window and I saw two guys not much older than myself looking at the house with suspicion. Before I could process the situation, the driver rolled down his window and shouted at me “that house is HAUNTED!” before slamming on the accelerator and peeling away, giving me no chance to ask questions. I almost laughed because it seemed like something out of a movie, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they spoke from experience. Something deep inside me was screaming at me to investigate further. However, as I had somewhere to be, I left the area hastily. Perhaps the guys in the car thought their warning would scare me away from the house, and perhaps I should pay their warning some heed. But ever since that day, I keep finding myself compelled to go back to this house and find out what really lies behind the iron gate…
Voodoo unto others before they voodoo unto you.
A Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo t-shirt design.
Heed the reeds 🌾🐊
“That’s the one trouble with this country: everything, weather, all, hangs on too long. Like our rivers, our land: opaque, slow, violent; shaping and creating the life of man in its implacable and brooding image.”
William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying, 1930
Southern Gothic (1)
nature trail pics 8
John Murry was adopted at birth into the family of William Faulkner. Some have speculated that the Faulkner blood might also run in his veins, but that should be left for a Southern Gothic novel yet to be written…
black-eyed susan aesthetic
you drive by a farm with a barbed wire fence on your way home, but you notice it’s facing inwards.
surely, cattle is the only thing they’re trying to keep in, right?
I judge the places I want to move to purely by the quality of their regional gothics