Wednesday 27 September 2006

Just in case...

Fuckkit's been prowling around, so I thought I'd try to appease her with some cake. I obviously had to try a bit first. Then a bit more. And, to be on the safe side, a little more...

Sunday 24 September 2006

Thursday 21 September 2006


I'm coming home before my curiousity gets the better of me - I hope the Host has got a bottle of wine in the fridge! I was going to save this for Hallowe'en but I just had to get it out of my system.

This is the story of the fall of Isolis:

700 years ago, the witch-queen Calys was raped in her sleep. Nine months later she gave birth to a daughter. The child was difficult and distant with a physical... defect, one may say. Her hair grew at a phenomenal rate.

Calys, while not loved or revered by her subjects, was mostly fair and just and commanded a somewhat fearful respect. However, six years after the birth of her daughter, the girl, Sestir, began to manipulate the populace. And everyone who touched, or was touched by her, was mercilessly killed by Calys.

A year after the killings started, the witch-queen was overthrown and driven from her castle. She fled into the forest, dragging her daughter with her. In the depths of the forest, Calys used her magic to enslave nearby villagers, forcing them to build a tower hundreds of feet high. When the tower was finished, Calys imprisoned Sestir at the top, sealing her in with a spell that locked in her living flesh. Sestir was clever, though, and wound her long, dead hair into a long line of tight knots with which to knock her mother off the tower. Calys fell to the forest floor but did not die. She lay paralysed for two days before her enslavement spell wore off the villagers and they found her at the foot of the tower, weak and broken. That evening she was burnt at the stake.

10 years later, Sestir, now a young woman, gave birth to a daughter after being visited by a dark apparition who climbed up her hair to the top of the tower. Before the day was out, she threw the baby to its doom. After a visit by the apparition every year for seven years, seven daughters were born, all thrown to their deaths before they were a day old. From the eighth visit, Sestir gave birth to a son. The boy lived to see his fifth birthday before being strangled by his mother's hair. Sestir screamed and screamed, begging to be set free from her imprisonment but the villagers ignored her for a murderous witch.

After eight days and nights of constant screaming, there was silence. The villagers, eventually becoming curious, sent their strongest, most athletic man to scale the tower to determine Sestir's fate. He climbed her hanging tresses but when he got to the top, he fell. Before he died, he spoke three words: "The boy lives".

Out of his mouth crawled the emaciated boy. And from the child's eyes poured a wave of black disease, plague and pestilence. The plague spread, consuming all in its path. Soon all the surrounding villagers had died horrible, lingering deaths, passing the contagion on to the rest of the planets populace.

After one year, after the vegetation had blackened, after the oceans had poisoned, after the earth had died and after the rotting corpses had decomposed leaving nothing but blackened bones, the boy, standing on a mountain of death and decay, threw back his head and pointed at Sevane, hanging low in the sky and screamed: "I will come for you!" before his body dessicated and was blown away with the wind.

Tuesday 19 September 2006

Sunday 17 September 2006

Thursday 14 September 2006

Sunday 10 September 2006



What the Hell? Why do I feel like this?
Let me explain: I was sitting in my car, listening to ABBA The Visitors at full volume and singing along, waiting for the lights to change so I could drive into Sainsbury's carpark. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed movement. I turned to see two people walking across the carpark towards the pavement. One of them immediately brought me to attention (not like that!). Why, it was my ex. The one with the adorable wiggle.

He hadn't seen me so I checked him over. Hair? Perfectly styled. Clothes? Casual but stylish and well fitted. Face? Just as goodlooking and cute as when I left it. New Boyfriend? Yes. There he is.

Bastard! As in, him: lucky, and me: stupid. To make matters worse, I know the boyfriend and he's a very nice guy. Grrrrr...

I sat in the car, no longer singing, but seething. If it was any hotter, my gentle simmer would have boiled over and exploded, leaving a crater half a mile wide and a mushroom cloud blackening the sky over east Norwich. Why did I dump him? Twice! And then, after we got back together for the third time, prompt him to dump me? Why?

Oh, that's right. Because of the copious amounts of fuckwittage I seemed to generate. God forbid I should ever turn straight and go out with Bridget Jones! As much as I wanted to be with him and do stuff to him when we were apart, when we were together, I didn't. It took us three goes to realise that I didn't know my own mind, or what it/they wanted. Although, I think the ex had realised during our first go. Despite his relative youth - 24 - he was much more clued up about what he wanted than I was. It's probably why I prefer older men. I assume they know what they want and can put up with a younger flibbertygibbert such as me!

After seeing him, I want a boyfriend. More than ever. Even him again. Although, I know it won't last and I'll feel like a queynte again when I ruin it or dump him.

Maybe I'll kill myself again?

Sigh.... Being undead is too much hassle. I think I'll have to ride this one out.


P.S. If a prospective boyfriend is reading this, it's all a lie. I'm practically perfect in every way. I made all that up for something to post. You do believe me, don't you? Don't you? Hey! Where are you going? Come back!

Come back...

Saturday 9 September 2006


I was supposed to be at an anti-christening today. The threat of spending time with my extended family, being pleasant, gave me the impetus to make up an excuse not to go.

I said I had The Plague.

Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that I'd already used the very same excuse to get out of going to a wedding earlier in the year. Uncle Raven DeVyse hadn't forgotten, however. I immediately told him that I hadn't actually been dignosed yet, but that I'd get back to him as soon as I had. After all, I'm a Master of the Black Arts, not a doctor!

After a couple of hours, I called Uncle Raven only to have Aunt Immaculata answer. It turns out he was getting his fangs polished for the occasion. Anyway, I told her it wasn't The Plague after all, it was scurvy. She just sighed and told me I needed to eat more vegetarians. I told her I'd make a concerted effort, but I still didn't feel well enough to go so I'd see them another time (maybe next century).

So, here I am. At home. Waiting for the paint on the kitchen cupboards to dry. Thrilling, eh? At least IDV's still on holiday - I can have some peace and quiet.

Thursday 7 September 2006

Wednesday 6 September 2006

Tuesday 5 September 2006


Lawks! I'm trapped!

* mmmph *

* rrrgghhh *

* mmp *


* sighhhhh *