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November 2019 #1

by cnkguy
November 2019 #1

(Trying to speak to H for the first time in 6 months.)

Me: H? – H? Are you – please – I’m sorry – please… Just talk to me one last time, so I can try to make amends? Then you can hate me if you want. Oh gods please… just… speak to me one last time – please – I’m so sorry – please… please…

(There’s snow, at least I think it’s snow, I can see it cascading all around me like a soft mosaic against a greater darkness that hadn’t been there before. I’m cold – bone cold – and I don’t care – I can see a light and I turn to it.)

Me: (staggering) Please, will you … would you… I’m sorry… I don’t deserve – I know – I… I… H…?

(A door opens with a thump and I’m not sure which way is up and then H is there, grabbing hold of me like I’m a wayward parcel and almost shaking me for good measure.)

H: Girl? Dear god!

Me: (awkward, blinking) Are – are you okay?

H: Am I?! Christ!

Me: …W-what?

H: (muttering) Fucking Christ, your lips are blue… (He drags me into the Stormhouse and finds quilts to stifle me under on the sofa by the stove.)

Me: How – h-how are you?

H: (furious) Don’t you do that…

Me: What?

H: Turn up half fucking dead and inquire after my health!

Me: I… I – I – i….

H: Girl… GIRL!

Me: Wh..? …. I’m here.

H: Don’t you dare fucking go!

Me: Go where? (I meant to get up to make coffee but he pulls me down and I don’t go anywhere)

H: (desperate) Please darlin’…

Me: Wherever you like… (I catch on to the fact that whilst I think I’m here, sitting on the sofa, talking sense, I mostly seem to be elsewhere half-passed out in a different place and talking utter insanity.) I’m still sorry…

H: Girl! Goddamn it! You can be sorry when you’re well.

Me: I am well?

H: Like hell!

Me: But… I’m fine? (And I am, physically, in the real world. Yet in the Stormlands I seem to be on my knees and unable to rise despite the fact H is hauling on my arm.)

H: You’re on the godamn floor!

Me: (swaying) Eh, can’t fall any further at least?

H: Jesus!

Me: I know you must hate me and I’m sorry – I am. I just – left. I… No one deserves that sort of desertion – you least of all. I didn’t mean to abandon you – I just… couldn’t hold on to anything. I’m so sorry…

H: (kneeling beside me) You needed to mourn.

Me: It wasn’t mourning – it was – it was just horrible. A void. Everything stopped including me and I couldn’t figure out how to start it again. It’s still a mess… such a mess…

H: (scooping me up and putting me back on the sofa then coughing) aaa – The Classics give us the form of catharsis but it isn’t always a balm…

Me: I – what did you? – ngh – I get that – never mind the bloody Classics right now – I’m just so sorry about so many things and…

H: Darln’?

Me: Hm?

H: Please sleep.

Me: …Why?

H: (wry look) I’d be happier.

Me: …Why?

H: You – darlin’, you…

Me: (I see an especially strong picture of the Storm House, of me half lying on the sofa and H sitting on the edge of the cushions, trying to tidy me under a quilt. I hadn’t realized how ill I looked in the Stormlands, all I’d noticed -idiot- was the fact my hair was black and curled and I was wearing my linen shift with the mother of pearl buttons…) Huh… that’s a thing… (I poke at the buttons. I  seem to be very solidly in the Stormlands, possibly more so than I’ve ever been.) Will – will you stay with me?

H: Always. … No – no – no – girl! Dear fuck no…

(Between one moment and the next I seem to have been dunked in swamp water and left to drown and then pulled out at the last second and my lungs are somewhere between tar and obsidian and I want to cough up my stupid soul if only that would make breathing easier.)

Me: I – I – ah – I’m … ergh… I’m alright… (I choke and splutter against his waistcoat, scrabbling against his bony shoulders whilst he holds me too tight, far tighter than he ever has.)

H: Christ! You had no breath!

Me: (I don’t like anger, but I understand it. I understand it when it’s protective, when it’s scared , when it’s justified, when all it needs is a calming look or the smallest touch. H is angry because he can’t allow himself to be terrified.) Think I’m out of practice… An’ I might be a bit more… death touched than usual… what with… y’know… it’s… It’s gonna leave a mark…

H: (looks supremely unhappy) Will… do you want to stay?

Me: (unable to focus on anything) …Please?

H: Come along darlin…

Me: Will… would you… curl up with me? Just – stay…?

H: Yes.

Source: Tales of Necromancy


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formerly-enchants-blog: To be forever known, Catherine Bertola…

by cnkguy
formerly-enchants-blog: To be forever known, Catherine Bertola…

formerly-enchants-blog:

To be forever known, Catherine Bertola
16 April – 8 July 2011
Brontë Parsonage Museum, Haworth

Source: Tales of Necromancy


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albertche: witches by albert che

by cnkguy
albertche: witches by albert che

albertche:

witches by albert che

Source: Tales of Necromancy


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Hi – whoever is still here =)

by cnkguy
Hi – whoever is still here =)

So this started out – way back when – as transcribed conversations with my ghost, H. 

And then I didn’t have time to type anything up and it was more about witchcraft and necromancy aesthetics along with anything that reminded me of H. (Pianos, cards, TB, 1880s, the Wild West, storms, revolvers, Southern gothic, etc.) 

And then I ran out of pretty pictures and willpower entirely and everything went quiet. 

This blog and I are slowly coming back on line: I’m curating content and there may even be a conversation with H or two if for no other reason than apparently dealing hands-on with death has severe necromantic repercussions, and hey, you might enjoy the drama. (Someone should…)

Source: Tales of Necromancy


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visioignotus: Edward Kelly and Dr. John Dee perform necromancy…

by cnkguy
visioignotus: Edward Kelly and Dr. John Dee perform necromancy…

visioignotus:

Edward Kelly and Dr. John Dee perform necromancy in a graveyard. They stand in the magic circle containing the names of the spirits and demons Raphael, Rael, Miraton, Tarmiel, and Rex.

Source: Tales of Necromancy


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The Olivier House GhostThe Olivier House Hotel in New Orleans…

by cnkguy
The Olivier House GhostThe Olivier House Hotel in New Orleans…

The Olivier House Ghost

The Olivier House Hotel in New Orleans has a long history, beginning 1838, when widow Madame Marie Anne Bievenu Olivier had it built. Construction finished in 1839, when she moved into the house, located on Toulouse Street. Madame Olivier was born in 1772, and witnessed a lot of tragedy in the city of New Orleans, including the fires of 1788 and 1794.

When she was 16, she married Nicolas Godefroy Olivier, distinguished painter. The two would go on to have nine children and many grandchildren. New Orleans began rebuilding itself in the 1830s. Cotton was thriving, and the Olivier family was one of the wealthiest in the city. After her husband passed away, Madame Olivier decided to build a new house at the property she owned at Toulouse Street.

The home was built right in the French Quarter, about half a block off Bourbon Street. It was close enough to the action, yet far away enough for peace and quiet from the sights and sounds. In the original design, there was a business establishment on the first floor. The front of the home was designed with tall arches. At one point in time, there was a ballroom on the top floor.

After Marie Anne passed away in 1843, the property passed into the hands of Felix Labatut, and then onto Ms. Elizabeth Locoul. It survived being desecrated by Union soldiers during the Civil War. Ms. Locoul moved back in after the war and continued living in the house until she passed away in 1895. It has passed through many owners since. In the 1950s, an investment group from Texas bought the house with the intention of demolishing it in order to make room for a parking lot, but luckily, local residents managed to save it. In the 1970s, new owners got a hold of the house, and spent nearly a million dollars to restore it to its formal glory.

Today, the Olivier House is a hotel. It’s been renovated and fixed up with modern amenities. Each room has its very own theme and unique charm. Period antiques are a large part of the interior décor.

It’s also believed, by some, that former owners never left the Olivier House. Ms. Locoul in particular is still believed to live in the house. Perhaps she lived there so long in life that she didn’t want to leave it in death. Guests of the Olivier House have claimed to see Elizabeth over the years.

Source: My Haunted Salem


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