#rituals

Have you ever wished to go back? Even if it was just for a short while? I’ve seen many collapse under the weight of reality and instead choose the comfort of rose-colored glasses. It’s strange how we accept language for what it is and rarely question its origins. Take idioms, for instance—we use them every day with carelessness, never respecting their weight or power. I hear you hurl them into the void, not realizing how close you are to unveiling a path not meant to be traversed. These phrases…

“Can you sign for this?” the impatient UPS driver said after handing me a small box. “I’m not expecting anything. Who’s it from?” They shrugged. “I just deliver ‘em, man. Maybe somebody out there wanted to surprise you with a gift.” I signed, and they headed to their next stop. I looked down at the box in my hands. There wasn’t a return address. Despite its size, the package was heavy.

Two Days Before the Harvest Festival Sky’s End Annual Harvest Festival Fall, fun, and tradition! Join us for the annual March to St. Asbeel Stay for the bonfire! - flier in Sky’s End “It’s a church,” Mom said, staring at the stained glass windows of Jesus hanging on the cross. Her narrowed eyes and pursed lips told me she was clearly holding back additional commentary. “It was a church,” I said. “Now it’s a bookstore. My bookstore.” “What?” “I bought it! That was the surprise!”

A flame burst from the darkness. It was hesitant for a moment, but flashed for an instant, showing the faint glimpse of a lone figure. A second flame was made, but it sizzled low before fading away. The third, like the first, was shy for a moment. However, soon it became full of thorns and nipped at the fingers of its master, but it was held in its place. It would not go its own way, no, it must be sealed in a cage of iron and glass.

Many know Aleister Crowley for his famous work in the occult, but few know of his avid love of hiking, becoming an accomplished mountaineer. He always knew of the power and magic that lies in nature, and simply allowing yourself to get lost in the woods can bring strange and peculiar circumstances. It is said that, later in his life, during a very determined walk in the woods, he discovered a ritual that brings you the utmost truth to one truly desired question. Rumor has it Crowley yearned to…

There is a fresh, blank page sitting in front of me, and as I stare at it it seems to stare back.

The game was almost over, but things didn't get easier. I knew that the Rot wouldn’t let me win this. I had to plan ahead. I could tell that judging from the last 2, the final candles would both be in one of the main areas of the park: the circus, and the rides in the center of the grounds.

I wandered through the stalls a bit, trying to use my map to figure out where I was, and the quickest way to get to the lake. The way I saw it, I wouldn’t have to struggle as much to put the candle out since it would already be surrounded by water, but first, I’d have to actually navigate my way to the lake.

I’ve heard all about all of the little “games” from the internet, little rituals with beings that hunt you, games that people spread stories about, games that people get wishes for, I feel jealous of them, most of the time it's just a prank, or if something does happen, at least they’ll more than likely survive. I find it annoying whenever I spot one of those clickbait videos, (PLAYING BLOODY MARY AT 3:00 AM!), because they mock the people who made these stories, or in my case, encounters.

In the late 18th century in upstate New York a pastor and his family; his wife, young daughter, maid and himself were all found dead inside their home. Cause of death was identified as quadruple suicide.

A single unfinished opera entitled 'The Matinee of the Damned' is an incomplete and cursed piece of music that has plagued the eyes, ears and hearts of those who bear witness to this piece and has taken the lives of those who dare to try and finish the ballad.

In 1976 a new roll coaster was unveiled in Kings Island amusement park in Mason, Ohio. The roller coaster was called 'The Depths' and was at the time the longest roller coaster ever built; and it was only to be operated during October to celebrate Halloween. Having an 'annual' coaster was the park's latest idea of a holiday gimmick to keep attendance up during the chilly autumn season. Their big promotion and tagline for the coaster was: 'While in the Depths no can hear you scream'.

Earlier in the month, I was sitting on my window seat and daydreaming, watching the sun disappear behind the Sierra Nevada mountains. I had been reading a crime novel when I recalled an old family tradition. During the holidays, my mother would light candles and place them on the window sill. As I was growing up, I never knew the real purpose of lighting these candles. I always thought they were a part of decorating our house for Christmas, and my mother insisted that the candles helped Santa…

There exists a website known as Parasites.org, and it’s claimed that when you first enter the website, it automatically asks for your name, bank account information, and other personal details like your address. Not providing this information doesn’t do anything, but if you do input your details, the following text appears: "Thank you, customer! Enjoy your parasites! ;)"

I’d lived my whole life in the small, idyllic farming town of Harvest Hill, where the annual pumpkin festival is more than just an event; it’s a cherished tradition that brings the entire community together. Every fall, the townsfolk gather in the town square, surrounded by the glowing red and yellow of autumn leaves, to celebrate the season’s bounty and compete for the coveted title of the largest pumpkin. For years, I had dreamed of winning that prize, but this year my hopes were higher than…

It was just a normal day, except that’s what I thought… I was wrong. On February 24, 2024, I learned the truth, what goes on in this little town, Blue Springs, Missouri. It was about 5 days before my family and I were gonna leave to go on a trip up to Chicago, but some strange things started to happen…It's hard to explain. I mean it’s not normal what happened to me, not at all. It was almost like I got a sense someone or something was watching me from afar, but it wasn’t comforting, you know?…

Dear Diary, I do not know how long it has been since I've experienced my last surge of brilliance. You see, I'm an established author. Albeit a published one - renowned to most for my fictional writings in dystopian novels.

Centuries ago there was a Demon named Pequezbo. It was nasty thing, neither male nor female, hatched from a dead volcano in Pre-Inca South America. What was overwhelmingly known about this unholy creature was how it reveled in shock. It fed on it. The kind of shock that bypassed fear and dread and instead struck with an immediate and pure terror.

Some are inherently blessed with the ability to spin words into tales, as a glass spinner creates iridescent globes and faerie wings from the thinnest strands of molten sand. They can take the small components and, with ease and finesse, lay them over one another time and time again until the moment that the masterpiece is complete. At this point the light catches on a single aspect, and sets the whole thing shining and sparkling to all who receive it. All in all, it is a beautiful thing.

It had been a relatively calm evening in the station until that moment. The day shift had drawn to a close, and the night shift had not yet begun, so I was alone on duty. If it were not for the portly, old figure of Nick the desk sergeant, I would have been the only soul in the station. Despite his plentiful figure and round, jolly features, he rarely offered good company and I found myself wishing that Scratch or Black Donald were about. Likely, roguish lads though they were, at least I could…