Banished Out of Boredom: A Series
Normally, with me out of the house for eight straight hours because of college, I wasn't around to see just how haunted my apartment was. And when I finally got home, I guess I passed out and slept so deeply that no demon, ghost, or whatever could wake me. Or maybe they were afraid to, since no one wants to be around me during the morning.
This all changed with COVID-19. Objects started moving on their own, lights flickered even when I changed them out, and I saw things out of the corners of my eyes.
But when the spirits had time to scare me, I had time to combat it.
So far, I've done four big DIY exorcisms, and probably a lot more unintentionally. I've decided to write this to document each one as best I can.
The first was this creepy-ass kid from around the 1880's, named Briar Williams. Bri-boy kept moaning about dying from tuberculosis every night at approximately 2:07 am, and wouldn't stop until five. He obviously had to go first, since Victorian era children are a lot more annoying than the Tumblr memes told me they would be. However, they were right about one thing: playing Kismet by XIX at full volume made poor Willy instantly evaporate. That's what the little shit gets for not even offering me cocaine-Cola.
The second one was a lot harder to exorcise. Not because I didn't know what to do or she was fighting back, but because this specific demon was kinda cute. Her name sounded like the Playstation motto in those ads when she said it, so I'll just be a nerd and call her Tomie. So I found this Junji Ito-looking baddie when I checked behind the shower curtain for serial killers, as one does. Of course, I wasn't expecting some aged-up Ring girl using my conditioner, so naturally, I panicked on this one. I spent a good minute balancing my feelings for her against her claws reaching for my throat, and ending up decided to hurl my Himalayan salt lamp at her. It actually worked really well, but when Tomie melted into the bath, I had to order a ton of Drain-O to get her out for good.
The third was a lot less stereotypical to horror movies, since she had died quite recently, 2007 to be precise. I had heard rumors of a teenage girl committing suicide in this very apartment, but had to live here anyway because of how cheap the rent was for being so close to my uni. I would actually say that this was one gave me the scariest experiences, since nothing could have physically prepared hungover me for hearing a distorted "it's Britney, BITCH" from my closet at midnight. Her name was Kat Foster, and despite the Spears reference, she was actually an "ironic" Myspace scene kid, which was another nightmare altogether. She terrorized me with readings from "My Immortal" and unwanted MCR karaoke until I got my Wiccan friends to schedule a banishing Zoom call meeting. I've been considering witchy things myself, now incorporating protective sigils and charms into my daily life to ward off other bad spirits.
The fourth and most recent more of a local cryptid than a spirit, but I still handled that situation pretty well (if I do say so myself). I didn't exactly see it, but I knew I was in danger of that happening when I heard an unholy screech at the crack of dawn instead of, like, a rooster. I can't really describe it, but I can compare its energy to that of the song ARIES by Water Spirit. But this specific sound I heard then scratched my brain in a bad way, not a good one, so I had to act. The first thought that went into my smooth brain ended up being my first action: I screech back, imitating the monster but slightly louder. It then had the balls to repeat itself. And then I responded back. What started as an irrational fight-or-flight response turned into a 45-minute long argument/conversation/?. I ended up winning, at the cost of the landlord breaking in to find out what the commotion had been all about. I would say the he's more terrifying than any of the monsters I've faced so far, and, for that night, louder than both me and the cryptid.
I know that there are still more spirits out there, ones that could be terrorizing my neighbors too. And with the uncertainty of how much longer this pandemic could last, it could be a year before I can go back to school. That would mean facing different kinds of horrors, but at least it would be things I had already been used to before.
I don't know though: using saltwater guns to fend off demons is a lot cooler than standing up in front of a lecture hall and announcing a "fun fact" about myself.
An Open Letter To Apollo
I see you got the goats I sacrificed!
2020 has been an eventful year, thanks to your help. Great work sir, you really went above-and-beyond with my request, however (and I hope this doesn’t sound like more than a nitpick because I am grateful) my aim with those sacrifices was more in hopes that you’d break up Todd and my ex, and less about bringing about the beginning of the end of the world. I really miss her, and Todd’s such a prick at work, but hundreds of thousands are dead, and he’s still technically “boyfriend material.”
I do want to reaffirm, my lord, just how incredibly thankful I am that you would honor the prayers of so humble a servant.
Did I sacrifice too many goats? Is that it? Was three too much?
I’m not a shepherd or Greek or anything, but I feel like three is a pretty mundane amount of goats to offer up. I was more hoping that you would make Katie not so attracted to muscles or maybe make Todd lose interest in women and/or working at the museum entirely. This is fine, just to reaffirm, I don’t want to be a whiner. I do miss her though, as well as my Nana who was stung to death by murder hornets last week. I know better than to challenge the gods, so thank you as always.
Another thing, I feel I should mention, and I promise, this isn’t a complaint, but when I tried to reach out to you about quelling the spread of COVID-19 (three more goats) you did not stop the pandemic so much as emboldening large groups of white supremacists to challenge basic human rights on a communal and individual level in my country.
I don’t think unsacrificing them is an option at this point, but if there’s a way to rescind the previous request, while maybe making Todd less funny, I would be quite pleased with that. I’m attempting a sacrifice to you one more time, o lord, in hopes of exchanging Todd’s handsomeness for my irritable bowel syndrome. I should add, that I want nothing more beyond that.
Quarantined in my apartment, I haven’t been able to procure any “quality” animals for sacrifice. All I have to work with right now are bugs and/or my roommate, and I feel that the latter would be morally wrong? Unless maybe - you know what - forget it. I’m just hoping the bugs I sent work for you.
I don’t know if sending back murder hornets is considered regifting, but if it is, sorry, and I can offer something else: libations, mice, maybe a masterclass or- hold on a minute. Something’s happening on the news right now. Give me a moment.
Okay, it seems you did get my message, and lions have escaped from zoos all across America. That’s fine. Thank you. I think I’m going to stop sending you things and just make a tinder profile.
“once I was happy. I was in love. all I have now is a dead Baobab tree inside an empty whiskey bottle”
Goddess of Noise as I always make a noise whenever I enter my home. My mom dearly wishes me to become a lady.
Proselytizing vs Practicing
I have no problem with religions, except when they have the hubris to think they're the only correct way to worship, live, believe, or rejoice.
It's like expecting the entire world to adopt only one language or one cuisine.
The point isn't making others believe - it's believing in yourself enough to accept others for who they truly are.
How Do I Hateth Thee? Let Me Counteth.
(1) I hateth thee as I hate a papercut upon my finger.
(2) Thou is as abohorrenth as is a slow walking shopper in the market.
(3) I detesteth thee as I detest the word "unthinkable".
(4) Yea; thou is as distasteful as pickles upon my burger of cheese.
(5) I despiseth thee as I despise bad grammar.
(6) Thou is as hated to me as is a Justin Beiber wailing.
(7) I loatheth thee as I loathe countrymen who hurteth animals.
(8) Yae; thou is as repellent as mosquitos on a midsummer's night.
To Be Insane
I think about it day and night. It's not easy being shut out. Not easy to be treated like a wounded animal. Not easy to be seen as reckless and slow. Slow. Ha. To think that they call me slow. No, I'm not slow. Not slow at all. No. I'm terrifing. So terrifing that they had to put me away. Locked behind the steel walls. They said that I was going to do things. Things that scared them. Things they didn't like.
Now, it is not simple to be different. No one understands. No one listens. They say they listen, all of those men and women who come to see me, but they don't. Thay always say they do, mm, but they don't. No. No one understands how I work. I see things that others don't. No. Others don't see the men in the walls. Only I do. Only I do.
Others can't hear the screams that come from the floor. They tell me everything is fine. Everything is normal. No. Everything is not normal.
They locked me away to keep the dangers out, mmm, but they brought it in. They should not have trusted me. No. I should have died, but oh those weak minded people. Wanting to be good for a chance, but, they were wrong. No human is good. Nothing is good. That's why I do what I do. Why I can complete what others call horror. I act as if though nothing happened, knowing that for the good of the world, another evil has left it's harbors. But, I was treated different after what I did.
The women treated me as if I were a piece of glass, to fragle to touch, to steady to crack. They would come into my room, each hour. Each hour. One hour. Two hour. Treat me as if I were nothing. A thing, I would hear them say. But their wrong. No. I am not a thing. I am a god.
I can kill without death upon me, hear the thoughts of the minds around me. Take apart a human with no emotion. It thrills me to murder. Sends a chill down my spine. A smile to my face.
I put on a show. I pretend they are listening. I seem happy on the special celebrations, as if I'm "getting better." That's what they call it. To get better. Not be godlike anymore. No. I am only growing stronger. After tonight. No more shows. No more acts. They will all be dead by then. All will be dead by then. All will be dead. All.
Why, dahling; I'd be under "gorgeous", of course. I'm also under "genius", as I am way more than just my good looks.
Violets are blue
Roses are red.
Shoot, that's the wrong order,
Let me try that again.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Haikus are hard to write,
Oh crap, this isn't a haiku.
One more time.
Roses sure are red
Violets are truly blue
Now it's a haiku