Vigil StarGazer Posted September 2, 2009 Report Share Posted September 2, 2009 The one-man hide and seek, aka the one-man tag, is a ritual for contacting the dead. The spirits which are wandering restless on the earth are always looking for bodies to possess. In this ritual you summon such a spirit by offering it a doll instead of a human body. Warning: If you have psychic abilities you may feel unwell or be prone to accidents during the ritual. Things you need: + A Stuffed Doll with limbs + Some Rice (enough to stuff the doll full) + A Needle and a Crimson Thread + A Sharp-Edged Tool (such as a Knife, a Glass Shard, or Scissors) + A Cupful of Salt (natural salt would be best) + A Hiding Place (preferably a room purified by incense and ofuda) --------------------------------------------- Preparation: 1. Take all the cotton (or whatever it is stuffed with) out of the doll, and stuff it instead with rice*1. 2. Clip a bit of your nails and put them inside the doll, and sew the opening up with the crimson thread. When you finish sewing, tie up the doll with the rest of the thread *2. 3. Pour water into a bathtub. 4. Place a cup of salt water inside the hiding place. ----------------------------------------------- How To Do It: 1.Give a name to the doll (the name could be anything but your own) 2.When it is 3 am, say to the doll "__(your name) is the first it," three times. 3.Go to the bathroom and put the doll into the water-filled bathtub. 4.Turn off all lights in the house, go back to the hiding place and switch on the TV. 5.When you have counted ten with your eyes closed, go back to the bathroom with the edged tool (a knife, etc) in your hand. 6.When you get there, say to the doll ,"I have found you, __(the doll's name)," and stab the doll with the edged tool*3. 7. Say "You are the next it, __(the doll's name)," as you put the doll back in its place. 8.As soon as you have put the doll down, run back to the hiding place and hide. ------------------------------------------ How To Finish It: 1. Pour half the cup of salt water into your mouth (don't drink it; keep it there)*4 and get out of the hiding place and start looking for the doll. The doll is not necessarily in the bathroom. Whatever happens don't spit out the salt water. 2. When you find the doll, pour the rest of the salt water which is left in the cup over it, and then spray the salt water in your mouth over it as well. 3. Say "I win," three times. This supposed to end the ritual. After this make sure you dry the doll, burn and discard it later. MOST IMPORTANT Please don't stop this ritual halfway. You must do it through to the end. This is a dangerous ritual and I will not be responsible for what happens to you if you try. --------------------------------------------- Other things to keep in mind: +Don't go out of the house until you have done the finishing ritual. +You must turn off all lights. +Keep quiet while hiding. +You don't need to put the salt water in your mouth all the time. You only need to do it during the finishing ritual. +Remember, if you are living with someone you might put them in danger too. +Don't continue this ritual for more than one or two hours. +For safety reasons, it might be best to keep all the doors in the house unlocked (including your front door) and have some friends close by so that they can come and help you at a moment's noice, if you ever need them. Keeping a mobile close at hand would be a good idea too. --------------------------------------------- NOTES: *1 - the rice represents innards and also has the role of attracting spirits. *2 - the crimson thread represents a blood vessel. It seals the spirit(s) up inside the doll. *3 - by cutting the thread off, you break the seal and release the spirit(s) you have trapped. *4 - if you go out of the hiding place without salt water, you might encounter "something wandering around" in your house which might harm you in some way. Apparently the way to feel the presence of the "something wandering around" is to watch "what happens to the TV." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Peredhil Posted September 2, 2009 Report Share Posted September 2, 2009 Scary. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Portrait of Zool Posted September 2, 2009 Report Share Posted September 2, 2009 Methinks a ritual that allows the spirit to move Beyond might be ultimately more in order. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Vigil StarGazer Posted September 2, 2009 Author Report Share Posted September 2, 2009 here is someone's experience of undergoing such a ritual quote: I wait outside the apartment until Sam arrives, and we agree to go for a short walk because I am full of piss and the rule is no going outside until it's day once we begin. We head down a dark block, when we hear a very brief, high pitched screaming sound from a yard up ahead. The screaming lasted about half a second or so. To me, it sounded like a bird scream. Scared, we leave the area and go home, which is only two blocks away. When we get there, Sam sprinkles rock salt along the garden wall (ashtray during winter time) and we say a prayer rubbing it between our fingers. We go inside, Dad turns in at around 12:40ish, we start making minor preparations for the ritual and then watch some Fievel Goes West until 2:30. Then, the real preparations begin. I'm not listing them in order. We chronicled most of it on camera anyways, thanks to Sam. It is worth noting, that during the preparations a feeling of unease came over both of us, and after Sam finished sewing up the doll, she began shaking. - Sam unstuffs the doll, refills it with rice. Sews it back up with red thread. - We smudge my room, the livingroom and especially the bathroom with sage(we both felt much calmer after this). This is for cleansing. - Line Dad and my room's door with rock salt, making it spiritually "off limits" for the game. - Prepare our separate water bottles with salt water (I did this. I used like 3 tbsp of salt each. We used sea salt) - Put sage in our mouths, then against the soles of our feet, kept in pace by our socks. - Prepare the hiding place with a glass of salt water underneath it. We unfolded the futon in the living room and made this our hiding spot. - Filled up the bathtub. - Put rock and sea salt in the sink, covered up the bathroom cupboard mirror by turning the cupboards away from ourselves. Smeared the mirrors with the salt water. - I decide against a few trinkets and a coat I was going to wear during the ritual, out of respect. - Put three of my nail clippings into the doll. 3 was a significant number for this ritual and so I felt it should be three clippings. - We turned off the light in my room, got our things out and put them in the living room, found an appropriate channel and shut off the TV. - My choice for the stabbing utensil was scissors. At some point, after Sam had finished sewing up the doll and we hadn't yet left my room, we heard a scuffling sound and a click of a door opening. At first I thought it was another tenant in the apartment next to us, then I blamed my cat even though we clearly heard a door open Sam was looking right at Dante but I couldn't see him from where I stood. We brushed it off and after a brief exchange were ready to bring everything outside my bedroom. I went to step outside but backed immediately into my room because the closet door near the suite entrance had opened. That was the sound we heard. After confirming to ourselves we wanted to go through with this, we closed the door to my room and began the ritual. Before the ritual could begin, we set up our cameras and Sam set the doll down on the chair near the hiding place in the living room. When I went to pick up the doll, Sam noted the doll was in a different position than when she'd set it down. We turned off all the lights in the living room, I took the doll and scissors and Sam brought the camera and I brought the TV remotes as well as my water bottle. I stabbed the doll, did the first chant and named the doll http://www.tobaccobymail.com/images/roger.jpg (call me a faggot but I'm afraid to write the name out in text myself until I've disposed of the doll properly). The lights out, we ran into the living room, flicked on the tv and after a bit of struggling managed to get under the futon. We heard sounds from the bathroom and the kitchen entrance. We took mouthfuls of salt water from the same bottle, because by mistake I left my bottle in the bathroom(which I didn't find till after we finished the game). I kept the water bottle near me the whole time. After counting to ten and confirming to ourselves it was time to go, we got up and by the light of Sam's camera screen, navigated through the kitchen into the bathroom. We both had mouthfuls of salt. I got there first, Sam got there second and I saw the door open further behind her, I assumed it was her body weight hitting the door, after talking it over with her it is unlikely. When the door opened further I heard three consecutive bangs, like the door was bouncing against a wall. I forgot at that moment the toilet was beside the door so there was no way it could hit the wall. The whole scene played out very frantically. The doll was still in the tub. I scooped it up, spat my salt water over it and Sam kind of weakly horked hers onto the doll in turn. I stabbed it and said the next chant, we hid again. The second time around, with me no longer "it", the feeling of heaviness alleviated a little. I think we both felt in less danger this time, for some weird reason. Sam also knocked over our salt water and it spilled all over the floor and my legs and Dante(cat) went under the couch with us and I'm pretty sure he was licking up some of the salt water. I counted to ten in my head with my eyes closed, tapping Sam's side for every number. We waited a much longer time for round 2 to leave the futon. This time, only I took salt water from the bottle, and Sam put rock salt in her mouth to supplement (I needed the rest of the water to finish the game). I am unsure if we should have waited longer for it to look for us or not. The doll was gratefully still in the tub, and I scooped it up, spat out my water on it, had Sam spit her rock salt on it. I stabbed it and said, "I win, I win, I fucking win," out of relief. We cleaned up a little, and cleansed the rooms the game took place in with white candles. The eczema on my face (fairly under control usually) was inflamed and agitated from the salt that dripped down my chin during the ritual. I put on some cream and moisturizer. We submerged the doll in the salt water in the sink to cleanse it and lit a candle underneath the mirror. After a few minutes we drained the water in the sink and I set the doll on a rack over the toilet to dry. We set up my Nintendo Wii, and put our SD cards in it to watch the movies we made about the ritual. Sam filmed the whole thing, and we had my camera trained on the living room during the ritual's entire duration. When I turned on my speakers(I hook my sound up to my stereo, not my TV), we heard a girl humming. She hummed four times, and it sounded like she was breathing inwardly as she did it. It may or may not have been 3:30 AM at this point. The entire ritual itself happened in less than fifteen minutes. I turned off my speakers, and turned them on again. No humming. We brought a white candle from the kitchen into my room and I lit some incense. As we oriented the Wii, my speakers started getting louder on their own so I turned them down once manually and it was fine. We watched the movies, the one Sam filmed by hand was full of noises we hadn't heard during the ritual, most notably a shrieking like the one we heard on our walk, and a popping sound, like a balloon exploding or a cap gun being fired. The banging I heard before was also present, but I found out Sam never heard it once we heard it over the movie. There is a faint possibility that at the beginning of my movie, someone said, "You listen to me," but it sounds like Sam speaking and for some reason in a half-whisper. It could be an otherworldly voice, or it could be the tail-end of something else Sam was saying. I am not pretending I know if it's legitimate spookies or not. The sound on my camera was bad, and we were too scared to turn up the volume on my speakers while we watched this stuff on my Wii. (at some point, I forget when, but it was either before or after we watched the movies we filmed, we shared an exchange that she said she didn't feel anymore presences from the game, and I said I still felt some kind of trickster around that wanted to try and scare us) We decided to finish watching Fievel Goes West, and I told Sam I'd go to the bathroom first. I went into the bathroom, and the doll was in the sink. Sam didn't move it, and obviously neither did I. Spooked, Sam called Angele for advice on what to do because Angele was a total Godsend and stayed awake during the ritual at her and Sam's apartment while we went about poking the figurative ectoplasmic bear. We did a small ritual to clear what may have been lingering, and watched the rest of Fievel Goes West. (NOTABLY during Fievel Goes West, I got up to get something and when I came back it was a scene I liked, so I skittered back over to the sofa to sit and I shit you not the movie paused and when I sat back down it resumed) On my way back from walking Sam home, I think I heard a man or else Seagulls laughing, two street lamps went off and I met the cutest dog ever that looked like a bull terrier but wasn't. When I got home, the closet door was open again. I don't feel any presences in the apartment - of this I'm sure. I'm on edge, and I think when that doll is dried out and burned is when the left over weirdness will stop. The ritual isn't entirely over until the doll has been burnt. We will do this at midnight tonight. That's all that happened, minus some very insignificant details. (Sidenote: This was written the morning after it happened. The doll has been disposed of and nothing menacing has occurred since. ) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Racouol Posted September 3, 2009 Report Share Posted September 3, 2009 (edited) I am not sure if this ritual works or not, I have not tried it. I however do not think that it would be wise to perform a ritual such as this one. Dealing with "spirits" can be tricky and sometimes dangerous when they they arrive to an area on their own. Summoning one, like what this ritual does, puts down the welcome mat that will attract all sorts of spirits. Even if you perform the ritual 100% correctly it will not always banish the "spirit" from the house, or it might summon more than one. Furthermore you do not know what kind of "spirit" will be summoned and it could have an affect on normal people not just those with psychic abilities. It could quite possible also attempt to possess whomever was performing the ritual the moment it is done or it could linger for weeks or months before it starts to act up. Where did you hear about this ritual Vigil? Edited September 3, 2009 by Racouol Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Appy Posted September 3, 2009 Report Share Posted September 3, 2009 I don't understand what the accomplishment is. There is no use to this ritual apart from getting spooked and pissing off entities who can become a lot more violent than depicted in the story. Seriously stupid and respectless. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Snypiuer Posted September 3, 2009 Report Share Posted September 3, 2009 Nothing to worry about, really, but what do you do if you can't find the doll? Also, was it unwise to: 1. Name it "Korvak, Drinker of Souls" and 2. Decide to just go to sleep and look for it later? Just asking. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Vigil StarGazer Posted September 3, 2009 Author Report Share Posted September 3, 2009 (edited) Nothing to worry about, really, but what do you do if you can't find the doll? Also, was it unwise to: 1. Name it "Korvak, Drinker of Souls" and 2. Decide to just go to sleep and look for it later? Just asking. I'll ask my sources and get back to you on that later. My source tells me that that's why the two ppl in the above example limit the area using rock salt. Less places for the doll to run off (if it ever did). The rule of the ritual states that you do not sleep and you do not leave until you find the doll and spray salt water over it, declare 3 times that you won, and burn the thing soon after. Others you don't sleep or leave the premise until you find it. Or else this might happen. I don't really know how to do this. All I know is that I want this damned thing out of my house. I'll start from the beginning: When I was a young child, I had a large stuffed toy bear, and named him "Baron". Baron was the one I always blamed for stolen candy and broken dishes, dressed in a button up shirt to imitate Calvin dressing up Hobbes, that kind of best imaginary friend who I would talk out loud to. I don't remember a whole lot about what went on, but some things (which they will not discuss with me) happened to make them get rid of Baron and take me for counseling, and then to several religious figures in the local community. This didn't last long, and I turned into (according to everyone else) a healthy, well adjusted young man. Two weeks ago, I was in Cleveland on business. There was a small antique shop on the other side of the street where I was parked, and after finishing what I was there for, I walked up to the door for a quick peek. "Merryweather Curiosities" was not only closed but in a severe state of disrepair, and very dim inside, but I could swear that back in the shadows I saw movement once or twice. As my eyes adjusted to peering through the glass into the darkness, shielded by my hands, I saw a stuffed bear that looked very much like Baron tucked away in one of the corners. Nothing of note happened and I went home, only to come back the next day to retrieve my clip-on sunglasses that I had accidentally left in the waiting room of the office. Baron, and it was indeed my childhood friend, was on the sidewalk outside the shop, a McDonald's hamburger wrapper plastered around his leg by the wind. There was no pricetag. On closer inspection, his fur was ragged and worn in some places, mostly on the extremities of the forepaws, and most oddly, his eyes were gone. I looked up and down the street and put him in the back of my Isuzu Trooper. At home, I hurried in to check my email and phone messages. I forgot to bring Baron in, which I sometimes do with groceries if I don't need them right away. In the morning, I went out to the car. Opening the door, I was practically bowled over by a very powerful stench of rust, mold, and what can only be described as the scent of a filthy wet dog. A dead filthy wet dog. The back lining of my trooper had been torn out after it started to mold from being used as a work truck (hauling firewood in the winter got it wet and dirty), so I figured that maybe the carpet up between the seats needed cleaning, and that some of the smell might be coming from Baron who if I remembered properly from the tag, was machine washable. I pulled him out, put him on the porch, stuck my bike in the back of the trooper, and drove down to the local carwash and auto detailing place to have the interior steamcleaned to see if that would help. My seat was slightly misadjusted and some of the controls were sticky for no apparent reason. The cycling ride home was uneventful. The bear was still in the same position where I left him. Once I got home, I stuffed Baron into my Staber washing machine, which is an expensive high quality washer, and ran him as a light cold water load. Afterwards, I spread him over a laundry rack outside to dry because it was such a nice sunny day. Right after coming inside, the phone started ringing. It was the auto detailer, and they wanted me to pick up my car (this was much earlier than expected). On arriving, I found the Trooper to be only partly cleaned but the smell was greatly diminished. None of the college students who worked there would look me in the eye or give me more than a monosyllablic reply. The manager pulled me aside, told me that he wanted me to take my car and leave, that he wasn't willing to discuss anything about it, and that there would be no charge. This made me feel very uncomfortable and embarrassed, and I tried to think of what might have happened. The Trooper had the windows rolled up tightly while sitting in the sun and was very warm, so I put on the air conditioning on the drive back. There was almost no airflow, and then a few dried feathers started to spiral out of the vents, followed by a shaking rustle and a dead baby bird dropping onto the carpet from the under-dash air vent. I immediately pulled into the Target parking lot, locked my car, and spent an hour pacing and then looking underneath the car. I decided that the source of the stench and problems with the carwash had been birds nesting in the air conditioning ducts, which then died. I finally scooped up the dead hatchling with a plastic bag, dropped it in one of the errant shopping carts and got back in my car. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something looking at me from in back. Not malevolently, but accusingly. Like I had done something wrong. At home, I worked outside for a while cutting down some new brush growth and dragging it down to the ditch by the road, then went inside and out into the back yard to check on Baron drying. The rack had collapsed and he was sprawled on the ground several feet away, but completely dry. It almost felt as though there were hard objects inside him, just deep enough to be difficult to feel under the padding. There was no smell. I put most of my problems outside of my mind and carried him upstairs to be stowed away in the guest bedroom, with some of my other old stuff. For a few days, nothing happened. Then I began feeling like I wasn't alone in the house. My girlfriend came over, and started to mention seeing things out of the corner of her eye. I said they must have been my cat Harlequin, but we found her upstairs asleep on my bed. That night when we were watching The Island, we both heard a very loud banging sound coming from upstairs. Later, she swore she heard footsteps descending the basement stairs and then sounds coming from underneath us. I was still trying my best to be skeptical about the odd things happening, and made fun of her being easily spooked. Our night didn't last much longer, she went home and I stayed up listening to every single sound - and this is an old house, it DOES have some creaks from the heat making it expand and contract - with my hair slowly prickling up on the back of my neck. Some of the pieces from my chess set were missing. I went to sleep with a small light on for the first time in years, and finally drifted off around 3 am. I can't remember much from my dreams from that night, but I woke up with most of the coverings balled up on the floor and dark bags under my eyes. The one mental image that remained was the lingering sensation of being trapped deep underground in a space too small to pass through, with the knowledge that something was coming after me. Harlequin didn't show up for her breakfast, but I figured she was just out sleeping in the bushes or in a sunny spot. I realized that I hadn't seen any birds or squirrels around lately, and there hadn't been any birdcalls in the morning. Harley takes a bird now and then, but not enough to silence them all. Walking out the front door, I saw a massive puddle under the back of the trooper. It was something like motor oil but was dried and blackish brown. Test driving it showed no problems and there was no longer any smell at all. Also, the feathers were gone. At this point, I began questioning whether some of the events were just my overactive imagination running wild after a period of stress and extra work. I decided to take the car for a drive to make sure nothing was wrong, and ended up heading toward Cleveland again. The antique shop popped into my mind, and I made a beeline for it, thinking maybe I could ask where they found Baron. I was starting to put some of these strange occurences together. At the corner where I had picked up Baron, there was only brick wall at the section where the shop had been. I thought I was going nuts. It was the exact same place, but nothing was there. I walked to the next door down, a local coffeehouse. The grayhaired lady behind the counter told me that there never had been any "Merryweather" shop there. The shop was completely cleaned out, down to the cleaner area on the brick where the sign used to be. I don't know where it went and haven't had much luck in researching. Sure that I was going mad, I came back home to see the local utilities board scooping up all the brush I had been cutting over the past week. One of the orange hard-hat wearing workers flagged me over and pointed at what the backhoe claw had unearthed pulling up branches. There was a good four or five cubic feet of small bones mixed in with the twigs and saplings, drying white and brown. Feathers, fur, and scraps of flesh still clung to most of them. Among the bones was a pink flea collar exactly the same as the one Harlequin had been wearing. This incident caused me a great deal of difficulty with the city, fortunately some of the executives on the utilities board and city council members were close friends of my parents and didn't take to any wild flights of fancy as to why a small animal graveyard might have appeared in my discarded branches. I was beginning to be terrified about the possibilities. My house was rapidly taking on a very uncomfortable feeling, and no one came inside without commenting on feeling unease or even outright fear. At several times I heard low moans uttered from other parts and this happened once while a guest was over. The shuffling sounds increased in frequency, always happening on a floor I wasn't on until one day they started happening several rooms over on the same story. This set me on edge like nothing you would believe. It was worse than hearing the scraping sounds inside the walls at night had been. Sometimes I would wake up with a few scratches on my face, or feel something jump up onto my bed at night. I started to question my sanity more and more. Up to this time, I had only looked in the spare bedroom a few times, and Baron was always in his place, eyeless sockets staring into space. I looked at him that day I heard the shuffling, and caught myself starting to talk to him. This time it wasn't a pair of child friends, it was me threatening him with the evisceration of his stuffing and the fate of being stuffed into my woodchipper if he didn't stop whatever was going on, if it was related to him and I was sure it was. As I spoke, I felt chills trace up and down my spine and tears jumped into my eyes for no reason. The room felt twenty degrees colder and visibly darkened. My heart was in my throat and I felt an incredibly palpable sensation of hostility spreading through the air like waves. Shakily I backed out of the room, slammed the door, and ran downstairs to fix myself some tequila. I noticed in the kitchen that most if not nearly all of my knives were missing, and that there were chunks of wood missing out of the locked cupboard under the sink, a holdover from when the previous owners had had small children to keep away from drain cleaner, almost as if a very short person had been gleefully chipping away to try to break past the latch. After drinking for a good twenty minutes, I started to rationalize everything that had happened. The feeling that washed over me had been a natural reaction, all part of my mind spooking itself and reacting on cue to my subconscious desires to find strange and scary things. Emboldened by liquor, I strode back upstairs and decided for no apparent reason to repair Barons eyes. I remembered that once, long after Baron disappeared but still in my childhood, that I had found a small box with a pair of stuffed animal type eyes in it, nestled in strips of paper with scrawled writing, and then was scolded heavily for snooping. As if my hands found it unbidden, it only took a few minutes of searching in one of the upstairs closets. The box was wooden with inlaid crucifixes and a carving of the Virgin Mary, which struck me very oddly as my parents had most definitely not been Catholic. Inside were many little strips of parchment, almost as if it had been put through a shredder. Written on each one was a latin phrase, repeated over and over from one strip to another. Underneath a wrapping of these were a pair of simple button eyes that I recognized as definitely having belonged to Baron in the past. They felt very, very cold. I took a needle and thread left over from my last shirt repair and took Baron downstairs. Slamming him onto the dining room table, I roughly stabbed the needle into the sockets, laced in the eyes, and sewed them both tight. Again, I felt as if there almost might be an actual skeletal structure under his padding, but after prodding quite hardly, found nothing. Tired of the whole thing and wondering why I had done what I did, I opened the basement door, threw him down the stairs, and locked it. Nothing happened all day and all night. Maybe I had solved the problem. Loading my week's laundry into the machine, I noticed that it was already full of liquid. Looking closer with a flashlight revealed a layer of scum floating on oily water, glinting red under the beam from my mini mag. My reflection swirled and distorted in the water, and I heard whispering, not just one voice but one main tone with a whole chorus of others in the background. I slammed the lid down and put a cinderblock on top of it, and ran the machine empty. Five minutes later all of the power to that side of my house went out and I have still not been able to find the circuit fault. I called up an electrician the next morning, after a tormented night of sounds and bumps, and then tried looking up an exorcist. Exorcists unfortunately aren't in the yellow pages. The workman came around noon and went down to the basement (where I had not gone) to check the breakers. He left shortly after going down and told me that he was never coming back and that he had a good mind to hit me with his wrench for calling him here. The shadows in the corners of the house seemed bigger than before, and I don't like shadows that shift and adjust when you aren't looking. There was a puddle forming under the washer. I went outside to pace under the sun, and started to notice odd scraps of ragged fabric stuck to some of the trees and brambles edging my property. One of them was recognizeable as part of one of my much older stuffed animals, from when I was a toddler. There must have still been a box of them tucked away somewhere. I went upstairs to look, and found only a decapitated Pooh in an otherwise empty cardboard box. Pooh's eyeless, mouthless head was on the seat of my car. The rest of the never-alive animals slowly came to view as I dug through some of the uncleared thickets, some of them with their heads seperated, some of them much worse. I saw the entrance to the crawlspace under the sideporch was open. This crawlspace leads directly to another crawlspace that goes to the basement. I saw some scraps of fur and stuffing laying in the entrance and was sure that I heard heavy, animal breathing deeper inside. Staying in the house for another night was a terrifying prospect. I was being forced to accept that some sort of evil supernatural entity was making a residence and destroying my life and my wellbeing. Looking in the downstairs bathroom mirror, my skin was almost china-pale, with dark veins showing through. The corruption that was overtaking the house was starting to get me as well. As I looked at my face in the mirror in the dim fluorescent light (I needed to change one of the pair and hadn't) the reflection slowly faded to grayish dark, and swirled into ornate patterns that gave way to a pure blackness that looked back at me through a pair of bright red eyes, the only thing I could see. I heard a horrible scream that might have been my own, as the lights went off through the entire house. The bathroom door is opposite the basement door, only a few feet to the other side and back a bit. I could hear slow shuffling sounds coming up them. My maglite was in my hand and my adrenaline was on full fight or flight mode. I chose fight. I shone the light into the door and pulled it open. I swear to god I'm not crazy, and this is what I saw. There below me on the steps was Baron slowly walking up on two legs, one of my kitchen knives in his paws, scraps of other animals hanging off him. I yelled at the top of my lungs and shut the door, but it bounced back open. I was already several yards away, running upstairs for my guns. In my bedroom, the moonlight filtered through my curtains and I quickly grabbed my 870 and prepared to charge back down. I felt prickles on my neck and turned to see the eyes outside my window. They winked out into nothing with an unearthly moan and I left the house as fast as I could. I did not see 'Baron' on the way out. The rest is too traumatic to tell, from the ordeal under the cellar to what we found in the crawlspaces. In short, with the help of a Wiccan aquaintance, my house is partially cleansed and the bear is now locked up in a box. I need to sell it, for someone to willfully accept it. There is something dreadfully wrong with this bear. I never used to believe in powers of darkness, but now I do. If you are willing to buy it, please let me know. I take no responsibility for what may happen afterwards and for God's sake don't keep it anywhere near children. The lingering presence is still in my house to some extent and I need to get the source out. Please help me. There is a large rip on the back, a small one on the belly that is sealed up with red thread. The eyes are firmly attached and for reasons I am not willing to discuss should not be removed under any circumstances. * And so the auction went and went and I wish I had been able to save the full question and answer set because it was AWESOME, but c'est la vie. Here, for the first time ever, is the ending, which I typed up and sent with the bear: I made several phonecalls from a hotel room that night, and the next day several trusted friends entered the house with me. Under the guidance of one, a complicated cleansing ritual involving burning sage was performed, and we began feeling 'resistance' to our efforts after finishing the upstairs. The air seemed to thicken. In the downstairs, the house went noisy. Doors clicked, windowframes rattled, and the television turned on. This faded as we persisted in the purification. Finally, all that was left was the basement and cellar sections under the porches. Opening the basement door let out a rush of wailing cold air that left a rank mildew odor. We turned on our maglites, and in the case of the one friend who always obsesses over having the best gear, a surefire, and descended the cellar stairs. The fluorescent lights flickered and went dead before we got to the bottom. Then, nothing. Halfway through the basement, the lights went on, and there in the middle of the floor, un-noticed with our flashlights, was the bear, sitting motionless like a puppet with slashed strings. A faint buzzing sound, angry and hot, was coming from it. The wiccan friend raised his lump of sage incense and stepped forwards while chanting, and was immediately engulfed from the face down in an impossibly large swarm of bloatflies that poured out of the slightly torn hole in Baron's fur. Screaming, he staggered into the shadows as the lights dimmed out again. My flashlight began to turn off every few seconds and would only come back through shaking. Shining it on the spot where the bear had been revealed nothing but dirty concrete floor. From this point, everything became chaos. Fluttering scaly wings seemed to fill the air and buffet my face, I couldn't tell whether the screams were from an unholy source or coming from the other people in the basement, and unhealthily fast skittering sounds circled the floors and, from the change in tone, went up the wooden walls as well. Fighting my way to the stairs, I was able to account for everyone but the man attacked by flies. By sticking close together we managed to circle the basement shouting his name, but we didn't hear a thing. When we got closer to the porch crawlspace entrance, the floor surface seemed to become like carpet, except the entire basement is done in cement. I shone my light to the ground and realized that I was an inch deep in writhing pale maggots the size of ricegrains. The only thing my mind could think to do was to jump up off the floor, onto the counter that lines the wall on that side, and from there dive head first into the crawlspace. I really wish I hadn't. Inside I felt maggots dropping from the ceiling onto my head from the animal corpses wedged up into the floorboards, which my light quickly revealed. I saw the Doc Marten of the missing man and started to crawl toward it, screaming the entire way. Writhing drops of insectile larva covered my clothes, some going down my neck or up my sleeves. I had just reached the shoe and realized that it was sitting there by itself when a low bestial growl met my face along with warm, fetid ursine breath. The bear was on all fours with teeth bared, eyes shining demonic red. It smelled like it brushed it's fangs with year old garbage, the extra juicy kind. I yanked my hand back to the Benchmade at my belt and then it all went black. They tell me I fell out from underneath the basement stairs, with the wiccan friend over my shoulder. I don't think that's possible, since there is no area underneath the stairs that isn't open and it isn't anywhere near the crawlspace. They found Baron in my bedroom upstairs, ripped and unmoving. While the house still 'crawls', it isn't as malevolent for now and I think the main reason behind the bad things has been subdued. The rest might be symptomatic or just parasitic to the main infestation. Maybe they are souls the bear claimed, forever doomed to haunt his location. I sealed up the crawlspace with bricks and listed the bear on eBay immediately. After the sale finalized, I began to come down with a horrible case of hives. Once Baron was shipped, they began to go away. Edited September 4, 2009 by Vigil StarGazer Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvern Posted September 3, 2009 Report Share Posted September 3, 2009 Wyvern lowers his sharpened quill down to the front of the Xaious doll he has clutched in one claw, signaling to a troglyodyte assistant in a distracted manner as he punctures the little clock diagram designed on the doll’s chest. The overgrown lizard lifts the doll and turns it upside-down, emptying the hour glass sand that had previously filled it onto the small candle-laden Cabaret counter where he’s seated. The troglyodyte assistant hesitantly places a sack of Almost Dragonic Brand Sneeze-Fried Second-Hand Rice™ in Wyvern’s reach, turning to the lizard and mumbling: “Are you sure about this, Wyv? Vigil Stargazer’s instructions seemed a little odd…” “Nonsenssssse!” Wyvern grabs a clawful of the second-hand rice and begins shoving it into the Xaious doll at a reckless pace, ignoring the little tears his claws make in the fabric. “It has an 80% chance of success, according to wishful thinking. Besssides, If I bring Xaious’s spirit back to life, I’ll be able to ask him to send me back in time so that I can give CheerMynx a proper final episode and farewell on the Almost Report. That, and maybe I can even convince him to sssend me back to the great Terran Geld Rush for a while. Certainly wouldn’t hurt scheme funding.” “I dunno Wyv…” The troglyodyte frowns and shakes his head as Wyvern rubs two claws together and sprinkles the resulting dust into the excess rice bulging from the now-bloated Xaious doll. “Didn’t that Sam story strike you as a little odd?” “Oh you’re jusssst a worry wart Sssspinky. Everything’s gonna go OK, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.” Wyvern rolls his eyes as he taps the fattened Xaious doll to make sure that it’s stable. “Now why don’t you be ussseful and read me the next ssstep.” “Fill a bath tub with water.” A fearful expression suddenly befalls Wyvern’s face as he backs away from the doll with a stammer, his plan to use Kikuyu’s closet as a hiding place when the lights go out no longer as concrete as it once was… Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Snypiuer Posted September 4, 2009 Report Share Posted September 4, 2009 O.K., sooooooo, (I'm guessing) naming it Korvak, Drinker of Souls wasn't a very joyfull decision either? All righty then. No prob. Tonight I'll make "Graunt, Korvak Slayer" and see what happens. I got a good feeling about this! Toodles! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Vigil StarGazer Posted September 6, 2009 Author Report Share Posted September 6, 2009 O.K., sooooooo, (I'm guessing) naming it Korvak, Drinker of Souls wasn't a very joyfull decision either? All righty then. No prob. Tonight I'll make "Graunt, Korvak Slayer" and see what happens. I got a good feeling about this! Toodles! so.. that's the last we've ever heard of Snypiuer? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Snypiuer Posted September 10, 2009 Report Share Posted September 10, 2009 GOOD NEWS! I've managed to escape and I am O.K. (dehydrated, but O.K.)! After lapsing in and out of consciousness for a few days, I found myself gagged and tied-up in my attic. Now, when one finds oneself gagged and tied-up in one's attic (after a brief moment of panic and struggling), one finds that they have a grand opportune time to contemplate their actions as a whole. It actually becomes quite calm and tranquil. One might call it (I dare say) therapeutic even. During my time of self-evaluation, I have come up with a rather astute and comprehensive list of 'missteps' I MAY have been considered to have taken. This list consist wholly of one item - a verbal mis-cue within my second attempt at this 'ritual'. O.K., their are some who would point out that I have a habit of dabbling in 'things' I shouldn't and that this in turn leads to many adverse conditions - such as the ghost story I wrote about in a previous post and (of course) my most recent predicament. They would also point out that doing such 'things' in a house already haunted might be considered 'unwise'. Not only did my Grandfather build this house himself in the early 1900's, he also died in it. The rumor that there is money buried some where and the fact that an Aunt was still-born and buried on the property (small West Texas town, it was legal back then) only adds to it since the location of both are now unknown. Needless to say, there has been more then any houses' fair share of unusual goings on within (and surrounding) its' walls - so much so, that when an individual ACTUALLY came through my window in the early A.M. one night, I wasn't even startled. I simply informed him that he was about to die and it would be to his benefit to leave, which he did after a cigarette - he was stoned out of his mind, said he had made a mistake (wrong house) and couldn't get it together enough to even fall back out the window. I calmed him down with a cig, then reminded him with a rather large survival knife that he was, indeed, in the wrong house and about to die for his inaccuracy (truth be told, had I had a gun, I would have simply shot him - a knife takes too much energy, so he was lucky on that count). But I digress. Others may list the fact that I used blood to make red thread (I only had white thread and I'm very resourceful) as a misstep on my part. Then there are those who would say that my TOTAL lack and disregard for safety and the ACTUAL rules of the ritual MIGHT have had some little bearing on the situation I have recently found myself in. I reject these claims in their entirety. No, I blame gas. At the time of naming the second doll, I was gaseous. Instead of naming him 'Graunt, Korvak Slayer', it came out as 'Graunt Korvak (gaseous pause), Slayer' thereby leading it to believe (in my opinion) that he was related in some way to Korvak and his TITLE was 'Slayer'. All in all, not his fault really. Well, after almost a week, I was able to escape and now have a different concern - all my Cheese Nips, dill pickles and Yoohoos are missing. Rather disconcerting. That being said, I have come to the conclusion that using cheap 4 inch Beanie Baby knock-offs from those 25 cent crane machines (Korvak being a Panda Bear and Graunt a Zebra) was foolish. I'm thinking I need something much bigger - with actual hands. Will let you know when I find a suitable subject. I am PSYCHED! I have a better feeling about this then I had about my previous attempts! It just feels. . . right. Toodles! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Death of Rats Posted October 2, 2009 Report Share Posted October 2, 2009 *wanders past, wearing a stuffed toy panda skin with Yoohoo stains on it* Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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