Tag Archives: Halloween

Read-a-Chapter: DARK LULLABY, by Mayra Calvani

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At a tavern one Friday night, astrophysicist Gabriel Diaz meets a mysterious young woman. Captivated by her beauty as well as her views on good and evil, he spends the next several days with her. After a while, however, he begins to notice a strangeness in her…especially the way she seems to take pleasure in toying with his conscience.

The young woman, Kamilah, invites him to Rize, Turkey, where she claims her family owns a cottage in the woods. In spite of his heavy workload and the disturbing visions and nightmares about his sister’s baby that is due to be born soon, Gabriel agrees to go with her.

But nothing, not even the stunning beauty of the Black Sea, can disguise the horror of her nature… In a place where death dwells and illusion and reality seem as one, Gabriel must now come to terms with his own demons in order to save his sister’s unborn child, and ultimately, his own soul.

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Reviews:

“Mayra Calvani is a masterful storyteller… Dark Lullaby is complex and compelling…” –Habitual Reader

“Dark Lullaby is an atmospheric paranormal horror that grips you from page one and refuses to let go until you’ve raced, breathless, to the end.” –ePinions

“Dark Lullaby is a page-turner. A horror story from the top shelf! You’ll love it.” –5 stars from Euro-Reviews

“This is a terrific horror…” –Harriet Klausner

“Dark Lullaby will capture you with its rich descriptions, its exotic location, and the need to uncover the dark secrets hidden within its pages.” –Cheryl Malandrinos, The Book Connection

“I loved this story, which started as a romance, then quickly evolved into a spine chilling horror, transporting you back to a land where folklore legends, based on truth are alive, and unimaginable creatures walk the earth.” -Susan Keefe, Amazon Reviewer

“…this story is exactly the kind of creepy tale that’s given me a new reason to keep the light on at night.” -Relasped Catholic

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Excerpt

Late that night, sipping red wine on the second-floor balcony after a mouth-watering meal of barbequed fish, Gabriel was overwhelmed by the feeling of impending doom.

He gazed at the woods surrounding them. Far away from city lights and civilization, he had never experienced such perfect darkness before. Only the full moon illuminated them with its clear silver light. His eyes turned upwards to the sky and he held his breath. There, crossing the southern sky in all its splendor, was the Milky Way. An arm of it, anyway. Layers upon layers of stars created that milky effect. Never before had he seen such a magnificent, clear sky, not even in Arizona or New Mexico.

“Look!” Kamilah leaned forward, pointing with her finger to the woods.

And for the first time, Gabriel saw the little lights.

This was no trick played on his vision. There they were, going this way and that with uncanny rapidity, to and fro, making a little witch’s dance in the distance, as if they were electrons and neutrons trying to collide inside an atom. Unpredictable, erratic, volatile.

“Do you believe me now?” Kamilah quivered with excitement.

“The lights are real, no doubt. But your explanation of them is something else. Fairies? What did you call them—cin? Spirits of the forest?”

“That’s what people here believe. You know, two years ago a team of foreign scientists came here to study these lights, but they weren’t able to find any explanation for them. They were trying to compare them to similar lights seen in the mountains of Peru. The Peruvian villagers, though, believe them to be aliens. Spiritual beings from another world.”

Gabriel remained silent as he studied the strange phenomenon. For a moment the lights  vanished. Then they re-appeared.

Kamilah began humming a soft melody.

Gabriel felt goose bumps rise on his arms and legs. That music…. He listened, entranced. He began to feel sleepy.

“Stop singing,” he said.

“I did.”

He could still hear the lullaby, though the sound had now turned very distant. But it was no echo. It felt as if something deep within the forest itself sang.

“I’m going to take a closer look,” Gabriel said, standing up with the glass of wine in his hand.

“No! Don’t bother them! Sometimes they don’t like the intrusion. They might get mad.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” He was surprised at the sudden anxiety in her voice.

“I mean it!”

“You’re such a superstitious fool! I’m going to have a closer look.” He downed the rest of the wine and put the glass on the floor. A protesting Kamilah followed him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” she kept saying.

Soon he was outside striding to where the lights hovered. For somebody who had felt so ill this morning, his body felt marvelously supple and strong. The mountain air was cold, but his limbs were infused with an inner warmth, a warmth that wasn’t just physical, but also came from his intellect. Gabriel needed to know what these lights were. He needed to understand them. He couldn’t really explain his fervor to comprehend.

“They’re gone,” Kamilah said.

His pulse raced. Midway down the clearing he halted, his eyes searching. Darkness enveloped him. Then he saw them again, right in front of him at the edge of the woods, as if they had moved closer in order to greet him.

He approached them, his pace quickening with each step until he was practically underneath the magical light dance. He had to bend his head back to look at them. He wasn’t aware of Kamilah behind him or of anything else. The trees, the grass beneath him, the cottage…everything disappeared. He was alone with the twinkling magical lights.

The lights seemed to lower themselves closer to him, the pinpoints dancing right above his eyes. Immobilized by the thrill of it, he was overcome with palpitations. He forced deep breaths, while never moving his eyes from the lights.

Once again a gentle, lovely lullaby reached his ears, distant at first, and then closer and closer, until the sound became deafening, and he had to cover his ears with his hands.

“Go away! Leave him alone! He’s mine!” Kamilah shouted behind him, anguish and misery warping her voice into an inhuman rumble.

The lights began swirling around his head. He felt his mind swimming in light, immersed in it. There was no feeling of malevolence, but there wasn’t benevolence either. He tried to define the emotions involved, but couldn’t. He lifted his hands and tried to touch them, but realized there was no matter to touch. His hands went through the lights as if going through a spectrum. In this illumination, oddly divine in nature, everything around him became visible with absolute clarity, as if the sun had abruptly risen and washed the world with iridescent white radiance. He had the sudden, bizarre feeling that the lights were trying to send him a message.

The lights vanished suddenly.

Absolute silenced reigned. Only Kamilah whimpered softly behind him.

He was stunned. He turned around slowly, unable to see her. When his vision adjusted to the blackness, he tried to speak, but couldn’t.

Kamilah was sitting on the grass with her legs tucked under her, her hands covering her face. Finally she rose.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice shaking.

She threw herself at him and cried, hugging him like a lost waif.

“What’s the matter?”

But she cried harder, squeezed him harder.

“I thought they would hurt you!” she wailed.

He wrapped his arms around her, instinctively responding to her obvious fear and pain.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, staring in wonder at the darkness.

“What happened? What do you feel?” she asked, drawing away from him, her eyes pleading and probing.

“Nothing happened. I feel…. I can’t really explain. It’s indescribable.”

“But what happened when the lights covered your face? What did you feel? What did you hear? I need to know!”

“I cannot explain my feelings right now. Nothing happened. The lights…” He was at a loss.

“What did they say?”

“Say? The lights didn’t speak.” But he wasn’t a skeptic anymore. He didn’t have the right to mock her. He was awed, and deeply respectful of the unknown. All his beliefs had come tumbling down. He was unable to explain with his five senses what he had seen or felt. Yet it had been real, there was no question about that. He instinctively knew it had been real, and he had to accept that. The experience had involved other senses beyond the accepted five ones. Different concepts and ideas swirled in his mind, concepts and ideas which until now he had deemed impossible. Words like ‘spirit world’, ‘psychic’, ‘sixth sense’ raced through his mind as quickly as the dance of the lights.

“Are you sure? You didn’t hear anything?” Kamilah insisted.

“I’m sure.” The warmth had left him, and he felt very cold now. “Come, let’s go back inside.”

Together they crossed the clearing, Gabriel’s arm around her shoulders, Kamilah’s arms circling his waist.

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Interview with Family Plots Author Mary Patrick Kavanaugh

Mary Patrick KavanaughMary Patrick Kavanaugh recently launched her first novel, Family Plots: Love, Death and Tax Evasion, at an outrageous public funeral event. A writer since the age of eight, Mary’s award winning creative non-fiction has been published in Alligator Juniper, Room of One’s Own, San Jose Mercury News, and the San Francisco Chronicle. Her professional writing has appeared in numerous trade journals. She is the recipient of the nonfiction award from the Soul Making Literary Competition sponsored by the American Pen Women and was awarded writing fellowships at The David and Julia White Artist Colony, Hedgebrook: Women Authoring Change, and The Vermont Studio Center. She has an MFA in Creative Nonfiction from the University of San Francisco.

NOTE: Mary’s altar ego, “Cemetery Mary,” will be hosting a lively Funeral Event and Resurrection Workshop on December 31, 2009, and January 2, 2010. Participants will bury dead dreams, dashed hopes, old habits and grudges to make room for all the good that’s coming in 2010. For information about attending, please visit her blog at www.crapintocompost.com.

Watch the Book Trailer:

http://www.mydreamisdeadbutimnot.com/trailer/trailer.html

Book can be purchased at all the online booksellers, including Amazon.

Mary’s blog can be found at www.CrapIntoCompost.com

Follow her on Twitter @marypatrick

Watch her funeral, or bury your own dead dreams at www.MyDreamIsDeadButImNot.com

Family PlotsQ: Thank you for this interview, Mary. Can you tell us what your latest book, Family Plots: Love, Death and Tax Evasion, is all about?

A: My book is a work of Pulp Faction, a term I coined to best describe a fictional story based on fact. It is about a young single mother and private investigator who falls in love with a criminal attorney, who, it turns out, is committing a few crimes of his own. In an effort to find love and security, she falls into a world of pseudonyms and unexplained cash. Secrets and stashes are revealed as family members make their way to the cemetery, for a permanent place in this family plot.

Q: Is this your first novel?  If not, how has writing this novel different from writing your first?

A: Yes. This is my first novel.

Q: How difficult was it writing your book?  Did you ever experience writer’s block and, if so, what did you do?

A: Giving birth to this creation was harder and maybe even more expensive than the one I raised and sent to college.

Q: How have your fans embraced your latest novel?  Do you have any funny or unusual experiences to share?

A: People have been wonderful, supportive, rude, fascinating, funny, and everything in between. My most unusal experience was looking up at a reading and seeing a colorful local personality who also turned out to be someone I’d based a character on. I was mortified when she bought a few copies of the book, and then invited me to speak to her writers group. She is a lively character and I knew there was no way she wouldn’t recognize herself in the story, so I raced home, went to each scene she was in, worrying what I’d written would be interpreted as mean or cartoonish. She had a great sense of humor about the matter, and even dressed up exactly like I’d described her character when I arrived to speak to her group. She turned into one of my greatest fans and supporters. I love life’s coincidences.

Q: What is your daily writing routine?

A: Because I am not currently working on a book-length work, my routine is sporatic. I am writing articles and short pieces and do that in spurts. My greatest muse these days is named THE DEADLINE.

Q: When you put the pen or mouse down, what do you do to relax?

A: When I’m into my computer addition, it can be Facebook, one of the most insidious time sucks ever invented. But as a result of a recent mid-life crisis, I’ve also recently installed a stripper pole in my workspace and while I don’t undress, I do spin around the pole a few times, working on my moves. I also like to stretch and eat chocolate.

Q: What book changed your life?

A: Catcher in the Rye and Gone With the Wind. The former because I understood that depressed wise-ass narrators could capture existential angst better than any philosopher, and the latter because I experienced complete absorption into another time and place through good old fashioned melodrama and storytelling.

Q: If someone were to write a book on your life, what would the title be?

A: Turning Life’s Crap Into Compost, and I believe I’m writing that book now.

Q: Finish this sentence: “The one thing that I wish people would understand about me is…”

A: I love spaghetti and meatballs almost as much as life itself, but I feel terrible about the loss of life involved. This internal conflict dogs me…

Thank you for this interview, Mary. I wish you much success on your latest release, Family Plots: Love, Death and Tax Evasion.

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Interview with Horror Writer Ruby Dominguez

Ruby Dominguez

Ruby Dominguez

The author, Ruby Dominguez is challenged by the conflicting complexities of the past and future. Undeterred, she strokes with pen the somber and bright hues of her visions. She currently resides in San Francisco and works in the field of property management/leasing. She has been a recipient of the “Editor’s Choice Award,” by the National Library of Poetry in 1999 and 2007 for her published poems in the SHELTER OF SHADE. Visit her website at:

www.outskirtspress.com/theperukemaker, and blog at http://www.salemcurse.wordpress.com

Thank you for this interview, Ruby. Can you tell us what your latest book, THE PERUKE MAKER – The Salem Witch Hunt Curse, is all about?

Salem 17th Century – A bizarre and deadly detour in American dark history!

SYNOPSIS:

~The witch hunt hits feverish peak! Fear of the devil is as real as God. Witchcraft is a heinous crime a person could commit and is punishable by death at the Gallows Hill for the victims accused of sorcery.

River reflections of Bridget Cane’s scantily clad youthful beauty with long, flowing, wild, red hair, is frozen in fear amidst the overture of the Banshee’s foreboding and bloodcurdling wails of imminent death, that of her own.

The Peruke Maker’s vengeful curse hastens chase for the innocent and is carried off by a whirl of ill-omened wind that transgresses all natural laws of time and space.

The Salem Witch Hunt Curse unearthed from necromancy, violates the course of natural events in a modern day world, relentlessly in quest for the avenger of innocent blood.

Sarah Cane, a product of the 21st century is inextricably caught in a fateful journey that comes full circle. But Michael’s abiding love for her triumphs over evil, transcending the grave in a magical and symbolic act of rebirth at the stroke of midnight of the Autumnal Equinox. ~

SCRIPT COVERAGE ANALYSIS:

THE PERUKE MAKER – The Salem Witch Hunt Curse, inspired by true events, is a meticulously researched screenplay that is laced with relevance and substance.

We follow the unforgettable spiritual and emotional journey of BRIDGET CANE, a stunning 17th Century woman and SARAH, a product of the 2lst Century who are inextricably bound together in a tenuous journey that comes full circle.

The banality of evil which pervades 17th Century Salem, Massachusetts is captured by the screenwriter with penetrating insight as we follow one young woman’s deadly encounter with the forces of Good and Evil.

This compelling journey is deftly played against a storyline that has meaningful things to say about the inherent vulnerability of the human condition.

A screenplay “The Peruke Maker” was professionally reviewed by Lejen Literary Consultants and attained a good script coverage analysis.

“Visually compelling, provocative, suspenseful, memorable characters, smooth pace with excellent twists and turns!” -by Lee Levinson

The Peruke Maker

The Peruke Maker

Is this your first novel?  If not, how has writing this novel different from writing your first?

Yes, THE PERUKE MAKER – The Salem Witch Hunt Curse, is my first published book written as a screenplay.

It was my initial intention and still is, that it becomes a Halloween blockbuster  movie.

In the meantime to generate a buzz, I opted for self-publishing for immediate distribution to the e-world.

It didn’t take me long to discover Outskirts Press via internet and then submitted my manuscript for their consideration and acceptance.

And now my book is available in 25,000 internet stores around the world.

How difficult was it writing your book?  Did you ever experience writer’s block and, if so, what did you do?

It took me 1 year of dreaming about it, 1 year of research work, 4 weeks to put down into written words, and another 2 years to crystallize the story.

Submitted it to Lejen Literary Consultant – Lee Levinson for a script coverage analysis and after 2 months received it back with a good review.

Thereafter, it took Outskirts Press approximately 2 weeks to review and accept.

When experiencing a mental block, I simply laid everything to rest and went to sleep.

How have your fans embraced your latest novel?  Do you have any funny or unusual experiences to share?

My fans are really interested in the history of the story and so I tell them how it came to be.

Driven by a mystical dream I had after trying on a 100% hand-tied human hair wig that I purchased online in 2004, described to be harvested from a reliable and youthful donor.

I woke-up from the dream in shivers, seemingly reliving a dark history of a young woman’s horrifying fate named Bridget and her father’s (The Peruke Maker) vindictive quest for justice beyond the grave.

Eerily, I believed that in Salem, Massachusettes from three centuries ago, the Peruke Maker’s Shop lay hidden behind a forgotten and abandoned room of an old crematorium built-up with dust and cobwebs with a finished white wig still sits by the boarded up window to this day.

Wefts of yak, goat, horse and human hair, fishhook-like needles, pomade, powder and a wooden head are laid down on a work table wherein a pair of rusty scissors, entwined with strands of Bridget’s red hair eerily rests by the wall mirror.

So, I have decided to travel to Salem, Massachusettes on a book tour this October 2009 and  investigate the existence of the Peruke Maker’s Shop, and to retrace the agonizing ordeal of his daughter, Bridget in Gallows Hill.

I asked my fans to join me in a blood-curdling Halloween experience!

What is your daily writing routine?

An inspiration has no routine, it hauntingly drives you until you’re done.

When you put the pen or mouse down, what do you do to relax?

Findings suggest that we sleep because our mind is tired. So, sleep to me has been a way to relax and wake-up refresh.

What book changed your life?

THE PERUKE MAKER – The Salem Witch Hunt Curse” was a pivotal point in my life where a curse trilogy was hatched. So, it was followed by the published book “Romancing The Claddagh – The Curse of Macha,” and a third in the works titled, “The Red Dragon’s Triangle – Boudicca’s Curse.”

If someone were to write a book on your life, what would the title be?

“That’s Me OnThe Red Carpet!”

Finish this sentence: “The one thing that I wish people would understand about me is…”

I just want a bigger stage!

Thank you for this interview Ruby.  I wish you much success on your latest release, THE PERUKE MAKER – The Salem Witch Hunt Curse!

The Peruke Maker

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Halloween Special: Guest Blogger Joel M. Andre

I couldn’t think of a better person to guest blog today for our Halloween Special than horror writer Joel M. Andre, author of Kill 4 Me. Please leave a comment for Joel or rate his story at the end of his guest post.

Halloween by Joel M. Andre

Halloween has become a commercialized success over the years. In fact, many of you reading this article may not even have a general idea of what Halloween is past the trick or treating, scary movies and sugar comatose that follows on November 1. The symbolisms that day trail back centuries. It started as a little night called Samhain back in the Celtic times.

For you trivia buffs out there, Samhain is actually pronounced “Sow-en” if used in the proper Irish tongue the druids used. The mh sound in words is more of a W sound. The fire festival of Samhain would occur on the eve of November 1, based on the druid’s calendar and was considered the most important festival of the Druids, it was their version of the New Year. It’s equally important counterpart is thought to be Beltane which is the pastoral start of summer.

During the rise of Christianity, the Christian Church brought forth the religious holiday All Saints Day on November 1, which would coincide with the pagan ritual. The holiday originally appeared in the Spring where it continues to appear on the calendar for the Eastern Christians, as of current though Western Christians continue to celebrate this day on November 1.

Originally Samhain was intended as a time for no time. All rules and hierarchy where abolished, and chaos was welcomed to run free for 3 days. This was the time when children would go from door to door and seek out meals and treats from their neighbors, which is where the tradition of Trick or Treating comes from. Although, the new form is simply about getting some sugar coated treats, unless you happen to live on a street with dentists. Then you get toothbrushes.

There was a meaning though behind these days, it was the 3 days when the after life and the current life connected, and it was considered the safest set of days for passage between both worlds for those who were ready to die. They were nights of inspiration, and not terror.
Once the Western Christian culture came along, the night was changed to Hallowe’en the day before All Hallows Day, which was extended to a November 2 All Souls Day. This is a clear example of Christianity pulling its roots from Pagan society. The church even pulled elements of the festivals and the 3 days celebration from the traditions. In time we simply know this Holiday now as Halloween on October 31.

That is a very brief background on Halloween, there is also some symbolism that you may find interesting.

Ghosts, Skeletons and Skulls symbolize the lost love ones in the forms that they would return. The ghost being the spiritual form, and the skeleton more of a physical form.

The Black Cat was introduced based on the fear of the feline by medieval Christianity who believed they wandered the earth at night invisibly and attacked the sleeping. In turn there was a point when thousands were abolished. In turn a true black cat is difficult to find, there is usually at least a handful of white hairs mixed in. There is also a popular belief that druids thought that cats were individuals reincarnated.

Bobbing for apples comes from the pagan festival of Pomona. As the Romans continued their persecution of the Celtic people, they continued to create new traditions for Samhain. Fruit would be lined in a bucket of water and individuals would grasp it with the mouths. This was in celebration of the Roman God’s and Goddesses. It was thought to how fortune and luck for the person who managed to grasp the apple.

Black symbolizes the darkness, or death involved with the culture and holiday, while red symbolizes blood or the evil in the hearts of man, while orange symbolizes the autumn season. The colors purple and green symbolize mysticism and the ghoulish behavior.

There are of course many other symbols and historical elements to the holiday. Although mistaken for a day of evil, and carnage. It is more about the rebirth, and a homecoming and reuniting in a spiritual way with those we once lost.

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Halloween Special: Guest Blogger J.L. Miles

Today continues our special Halloween extravaganza featuring guest blogger J.L. Miles, author of the southern women’s fiction novel, Cold Rock River (Cumberland House Publishing). You are welcome to leave a comment for J.L. to let her know how much you enjoyed her guest post. If you would like to tell us your favorite Halloween story or talk about anything that goes bump in the night, email us at thewriterslife(at)yahoo.com and your story can be featured on this blog. Deadline for stories (fiction or nonfiction) is this Friday!

My favorite Halloween by J.L. Miles

Aaah—my favorite Halloween has to be when I was full-grown and my oldest son and daughter were two and four years old, respectively. I had just taught myself how to sew. Nothing fancy, mind you. It was the seventies, the style was a-line dresses and pinafores for the girls and drawstring shorts for the boys. Well, Halloween was approaching. In those days there were no fancy party stores with oodles of costumes to choose from. Mother’s made their own or cut holes in sheets for eyes to make ghosts, or colored grocery sacks orange for pumpkins. I wanted something more industrious and found an adorable pattern for a bunny costume. I purchased blue flannel and pink flannel and decided the kids could use the bunny costumes later for pajamas. The pattern called for attached footie feet and separate head covering complete with rabbit ears. The wires for the rabbit ears were a real trip.

I spend days and days cutting and sewing and trying to figure out the intricate pattern. It called for invisible zippers. What a challenge that was. But low and behold the day arrived ad the costumes were done. They looked adorable. I’d spent a gazillion hours assembling them. I made many mistakes and had to get out my thread ripper and start over again.

Since we had a new baby at home and I was a nursing mother it was decided my husband would take our two little tykes around the neighbor hood. I painted little black noses and black bunny whiskers and let my husband dress them for the outing while I tended to the baby. And of course we took pictures. They were each carrying an Easter basket to gather all the candy they’d be receiving. The costumes were perfect! I’d pass them down to the new baby and the one on the way.

I fed the baby and answered our doorbell to witches and goblins and pirates and princesses but didn’t see any bunnies, not even my own. Three hours later they came trudging up the driveway. The bottoms of their costumes were in rags! My husband had failed to put their shoes on. The kids had completely worn the feet off trudging up and down the streets and sidewalks.

But, they were happy little bunnies with baskets full of candy. I later cut the feet out, hemmed them up and they were able to use them for pajamas after all.

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Halloween Special: Guest Blogger Cate Cavanagh

In the upcoming days before Halloween, I thought it would be fun and try something a little different at As the Pages Turn. We will be featuring true stories and fictional stories from guest authors who I have personally asked to participate. My first guest blogger is Cate Cavanagh, author of the young adult fictional novel, Her Godmother. You are welcome to leave a comment for Cate to let her know how much you enjoyed her guest post. Thank you, Cate!

Wizard
by Cate Cavanagh

It was a hot summer day when she got off the bus to transfer to the next.
one, it snowed. Not flurries either. It snowed like a blizzard and as it
snowed, her clothes chilled her as the snow melted against her
overheated body. She glanced around and saw everyone around her
just as puzzled as she.
She didn’t know why she sat in the first forward row opposite the driver
and next to him. She knew even less why she began talking to him. It was
just something she wanted to do suddenly. No, had to do. Why, she did
not know. She barely remembered why she went with him and never left. She’d had
an apartment, hadn’t she? And friends? And family? She disappeared
on all of them and she was as lost as the memories of the life she used to have.

Jesse was smug when he talked about a lottery ticket. It didn’t bother
Mary in the least. It was just another happening in the odd life she found
herself living. Dinner parties, fund raisers, political dinners abounded
And she was always with him, beautifully draped in expensive antique dresses and jewelry. All of this did not go unnoticed. There were rules even to demonic bargains.
The day came for the debt to be collected and Jesse prepared for the showdown.
The circle had to be of salt and saltpeter. He already had what he
needed for inside the circle. It would be easy.
There was only one minute left in which he could be claimed. He only needed to be in control one minute he would be free to enjoy all he possessed. Wealth, power, a beautiful woman and a lifetime in which to enjoy it all would be his. After this he might work on eternal youth. His will would be done.
Jesse was ready and walked her to their bedroom and although he had mesmerized
her to drowsiness, he took her anyway.
It was a large circle cast with salt peter in the massive living room. It was one minute to
midnight and Jesse sealed himself within the circle with the remaining salt. He walked and uttered ancient Incantations. Nothing would be able to enter the circle to attack him now. He donned his robe and lit the two black candles
with the altar matches. He ignited the saltpeter in the cauldron and, as it
poofed, the clock struck midnight and the Tall One appeared.
“You think a silly circle can prevent me from claiming you?”
“Oh, I think one minute will be long enough for me to get you. I look
forward to seeing you serve as you have made others do.”
“Do you plan to bore me into submission?” Jesse taunted.
The Tall One pointed a finger at the circle and suddenly Jesse saw himself
engulfed within a ring of flames, the fires breezing in toward him, lapping
their heat at his face.
“You cannot fool me. This is your illusion–to make me feel and see fire so
close to me that I will jump out of my circles and into your clutches.”
“Look down.”
Jesse looked down to see all manner of scorpions, snakes and spiders and all of them were poisonous. He almost jumped but did not. Even as he felt the sting of their bites, he sat still. He felt the burning of poisons in his blood until it began to boil.
“Illusion! Illusion! What I think and feel is all illusion! Nothing can come into this circle so all you have is my mind to play with and I know that.
The broad face smiled, no grimaced, and its scales wrinkled grotesquely.
In moments Jesse would be free to enjoy his wealth and power forever. Suddenly the room was cold and a bitter wind blew. Jesse opened his eyes to see the wind dispersing the salt hence opening the circle. His eyes opened with fear. He looked around the room wildly. He had not left any windows opened. That was the only way the demon could summon the winds unto him and command they destroy the circle.
“How did you do this? The rules are clear. You can deal out illusion but
the test is to remain within me!”
“Yes, I am allowed illusion. All types of illusion and while you were focusing on the illusions within your circle you forgot to keep a part of your mind on the innocent woman you imprisoned. You speak of rules! Even among entities such as myself, there are rules to protect victims.”
Circle undone, the winds died down and the billowing curtains settled. To
the side of the window stood Mary.

Visit Cate at quantumspirituality.tripod.com and somethingmagicalinourmists.blogspot.com

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