Whatever you are going through may due to karma and age old conditioning and programming. What limiting beliefs do you hold? You are being challenged to change. It feels easier and safer to remain as you are, but it is an illusion.
Some of you are being asked to release toxic relationships in your life. Mantra: I release the past
Know that you can create the reality you are dreaming of. Emotions are likely high right now. Feel through them. You are certainly on the right path. Have in yourself and in your dreams
🔮 pick a pile or crystal you are most drawn to 🔮
If you go into the woods at night, you may hear a haunting melody echoing from a will-o’-wisp like Calliope. Friend or not is for you to decide.
Probably the one that took the longest by far, chains are an actual nightmare. But on the bright side, I think the will-o’-wisps look utterly adorable so I’ve got that going.
The difficulties in life are a test. You get an A when you give your best. Do you need help?
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This was veering dangerously close to being creepy, that shop assistant had been giving her suspicious glances for the past half hour. Look lady I’m not here because I want to be. ‘Go out hunting Kate.’ brother said, ‘Angie said she saw something by the petrol station,’ he said as if Angie hadn’t been trying to get into his pants for the past year and would use any excuse to talk to him. He really should pull his head out of his ass and just start dating her already, god knows no one else is gonna put up with him. Ok so maybe it was a little bit her fault, he spent most of his time yelling at her to practice more. It’s not that she wanted to disappoint him it was just practicing and hunting were just so dull, there were so many other things she could be doing with her time, rather than skulking around the petrol station like the worlds most ineffectual thief. Either way her brother was strong enough for the both of them.
But god could he nag.
That’s the only reason she was out here instead of say someone competent, he’d been nagging about practice for weeks and this would get her a couple of days free before he began again. Maybe a week if she actually managed to kill something. With the way the night had been going that was unlikely. Nothing happening on a summer hunt is dull, nothing happening on an October hunt is excruciating. As the days passed the temperature had been slowly dropping, during the nights though, the temperatures took a nose dive towards the winter months. She’d been sitting on the curb for almost three hours now, the chill long having seeped through her jacket and into her bones, the wind ripping through her with each sudden gust. The coffee wasn’t even good, burnt so bitter she wished it was tasteless, despite this she was on her sixth cup of the night. She didn’t actually like coffee, especially not this one, but it was the only hot drink available at the petrol station and she used it to prevent her fingers from ceasing up. It would be too embarrassing to go home and tell her brother that she’d lost to whatever this was because her hands were too cold and if it somehow managed to kill her because of it; her brother would hunt down her spirit just to yell and cry all over her. Another of her brother’s quirks. He’d taken all the strength and all the tears before she was even born. But there were worse things than to care too much and there were lines of people who could testify how sharp her teeth were when they dared mock her older brother about it.
Anna [ Anna Schurks ]
One Saturday evening, there were three boys arrested when an elderly person saw them enter an abandoned electric power station. According to the three boys, Jan V., Kyle F., and Lucius N., there was a fourth boy in the group, but their friend Mark K. must have gotten lost within the power station. They told the officer before they lost their friend Mark; he mentioned seeing a girl in a yellow hood as well in there. After the police investigated the place, they found the gruesome mutilated body of Mark. The three teenagers are the top suspects
Four hooded, teenager boys met in front of an old, abandoned power station. They had agreed to meeting there a day before because one of the boys, whose name was Lucius, wanted to explore. Tough for their age, they weren’t really afraid of the idea. “We should totally check this place out! Maybe it’s haunted!” Lucius had exclaimed. They entered inside ignoring the sign and almost stepping on some brown puddles
“I think we should leave now. If someone knows that we’ve been here… We could get in big troubl-” His sentence was cut by Mark’s shrill scream. He and the other two boys shook as Jan covered Mark’s mouth.
Mark’s eyes were wide with fear, his face pale.
“I-I saw a g-girl in a yellow hooded J-Jacket with something in her mouth..”
They laughed at Mark and they continued walking around, when Mark noticed his shoes were untied and decided to tie them. Walking past the room with the rusted reactor, however, he stopped in front of the door as he saw something move in the corner of his eye. He slowly turned his head and stood frozen as the light from his phone’s screen illuminated the figure. Before him he saw a tall girl facing the corner of the room. She wore a yellow jacket with the hood pulled up. Assuming she may be lost like himself he let out a shaky “H-hello?..” and slowly heard the strange girl whisper: “Help me..” He noticed that the girl didn’t have eyes, dried blood and a eye on her mouth. He ran as fast as he can but the girl appeared right in front of him, several sharp teeth emerge from within the eye. As he screamed in terror the eye stretched out from within the girl’s mouth and latched onto his face, digging it’s teeth deep into his flesh, took out his eyeballs and rip an artery from Mark’s neck, letting him bleed out and die.
Anna belongs to Serpent_vvitch
YOKAI ~A GHOST, A WITCH, A BAT, A FAIRY, A CAT! by Annabelle & M
MAB’S DRAW HALLOWEEN CLUB DAY 21 PROMPT ~ YOKAI SUBMISSION BY Emma Belanger ~ M A GHOST, A WITCH, A BAT, A FAIRY, A CAT! 👻♀️♂️🐱🎃 A Ghost, A Witch, A Bat, A Fairy, A Cat! Little, mischievous cats on Halloween, they will do strange, magical things to get their special treats! When black cats prowl And pumpkins gleam, May luck be yours On Halloween! TRICK OR TREAT AND CANDY THIEVES ~ by Emma Belanger ~ M When black cats prowl And pumpkins gleam, May luck be yours On Halloween!
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Your trials may be many and great. Your cross may be very heavy. But the business of your soul is all conducted according to an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure.
All things are working together for your good. Your sorrows are only purifying your soul for glory; your bereavements are only fashioning you as a polished stone for the temple above, made without hands. From whatever quarter the storms blow, they only drive you nearer to heaven! Whatever weather you may go through it is only ripening you for the garner of God. Your best things are quite safe.
Pedido por: UCNAMJOUT || JinnieInABottle
Una oleada de furia alienada golpea ferozmente las costas, alienantes gritos se desprenden de sus ondas y penetran las lejanas montañas, creyéndose testigos de su propio cuento. Indolente e incomprensiva, la playa amortigua el odio que ignora y lo deja a merced de argumentos invisibles. Las gentes se dejan mecer siguiendo corrientes pretéritas, inoculadas desde los cielos por influencia de astros de gran masa y atemporales; perpetuas corrientes de motores inmóviles; inocentes culpables de la marea furiosa.
La misericordia se pierde en el atardecer mientras la Tierra, en su eterno tránsito, le exige al Sol envolverle en su calor. La inevitable negativa enciende en llamas el mar y los campos, y los más fértiles bosques quedan atrapados entre el frío de las sombras y el calor que sólo entrega el auto desprecio. Sus habitantes se esconden despavoridos en las rendijas que el espíritu permite aparecer al abandonar la superficie. ¿Y dónde fue el espíritu?
Oculto, temeroso, puro, científico, espectador, satélite, agujero negro.
El fuego de las ondas marinas sepulta la fecundidad de las brisas, una fecundidad que, si alguna vez dio vida, hoy tan sólo entrega recuerdos, recuerdos que toman forma en la densa materia de las llamas que azotan las costas.
Aquella oleada enajenada, aquel odio imparcial que se consume a sí mismo, define la superficie; le entrega sus maneras. Le entrega el derrotero que le lleva de la mano por senderos espinosos, pedregosos, sanguinolentos pasos que se pisan a sí mismos una y otra vez. Aquel camino envuelto en llamas, aquel callejón sin salida, mas no desprovisto de esperanza. Es que ni el odio es muerte; muy por el contrario.
Y en ese fulgor de la profecía auto cumplida, de ese desastre del fin del mundo, comienza con y para y por el fuego la vida misma en sí pretérita, indiferente e indolente a la maldición de los astros. Ese fuego que es guerra y que, cansado de atacar bosques y montañas, destruye las estrellas mismas y todo aquello que le observó arder.
Ardiendo entonces, ardiendo ahora, ardiendo bajo el mar y en la cima de las montañas, el poder del odio da a luz el amor a la ceniza. Ceniza húmeda como testimonio de vida. Vida que se piensa inútil y que del pensar se sirve para crear.
¿Y dónde está el espíritu?
Ciego, inmóvil, certero, eterno, caótico, increado.
Dando formas a las llamas, se crea primero una jaula, luego una cruz, luego un infierno, luego un valle, un desierto, una montaña, un bosque. Finalmente un útero itinerante que, inseminado por cenizas, da rondas por las costas devorando el fuego de sus mares.
Acariciando el odio marino, moldea almas y las encausa; aprende de éstas y éstas de aquel. La superficie lentamente se calma y se entrega, se domestica a sí misma y se comprende y, al fin, se piensa. Se observa. Se acaricia. Se levanta y levanta sus propios derroteros, libres ya de la impureza, de la inmundicia. Desdeña antepasados que, por arqueológicos, de olvidarlos serán nuevamente su condena. Y comienza una nueva historia desde la nada y hacia el todo; de vuelta al espíritu.
¿Y qué es el espíritu?
Aquello que queda luego de la purga. Aquello que sobrevive a la masacre. Ese inmortal pensamiento que se conoce a sí mismo. El motor inmóvil que parió a la voluntad. Aquel que incineró todo lo que, por tanto, le dio forma. Aquel que quemó su propia forma para darse a sí mismo. Aquellas ruinas que dejó el más recalcitrante odio. El templo que permaneció erguido mientras el pecado le devoraba las entrañas; mientras él mismo era pecado.
El que nunca fue a ninguna parte. El que siempre estuvo en todos lados. Aquello mismo que, desprendiéndose de la complejidad de lo que no es, simplemente es.
Day 20 - dragon
Day 2: Ghost Witch, her name is Alma 🤍