M of Witches Town @signalstation@witches.town
so long, witches.town
please forward all scrolls, message crows, and visions to: a.weirder.earth/@signalstation
It's Friday and we all know what that means! Time to walk out into the woods and heed the whispers of the trees. In this way, the Green Bishop tells us which of the villagers should be tucked under a pile of leaves to begin their journey into the Mulch Realms, to learn the secrets of the Worm Council. Should the lucky Chosen struggle, a few persuasive blows with stout branches can do wonders!
Future historical epics are going to feature that traditional 21st century warrior figure: a corporate samurai wearing a bowler hat, clockwork pocket cogitator, and a selfie sword-stick.
The elite of the Late Period Glass Tower People would add a flexible foil antenna to their Selfi Stick, as a religious practice to synchronise their soul with their primitive god, the Wi-Fi, and also as protection from both psychotronic mind-rays and the all-pervading acid rain.
girl did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
actually? yes it did
they severed my wings with burning holy light and I felt the wrath of god herself, then plummeted to the ground, infinity miles below
but what most hurt was my pride, my eternal joy of being of the high kin, erased, never to bask in the glory again, doomed to roam the land of the mortals or worse
it hurt like you will never know, human
now leave me alone with my grief
@sydneyfalk Yeah, okay, SIN-dney Falk.
There's always that one guy in your cult who's always tugging at his robes, saying "this fabric doesn't BREATHE" but when it's time to pay dues for the robe budget, he always forgot his wallet in his other robes, the red ones for sacrifices, and it's like "That's what you said last time, Gary, and we KNOW you had to pay for parking to get here, so what's up with that, GARY?"
It's Friday and you know what that means! It's time to gather your fingerling gems and head down to the A N S W E R S P I T! Every gem you lick and drop down into the pit is one more day The Greenish Lady will sleep down there in the dark, blanketed in jewels, every moistened gem facet a plummeting kiss to her cheek. While she dreams, our children grow and the village prospers. May none of us live to see Her wake!
TOP 5 SECRETS OF THE RECENTLY DEAD (and you won't believe #3!)
1. The afterlife can not be described by words... only by touch. Surrender to the touch of the recently deceased. A cold palm against your cheek. You will know.
2. Coffins are not for containment. They are keys. They open the doors.
3. Where language fails, the self dilutes like salt in water.
4. A kicky red lipstick can reinvigorate your look! Match colors to scarves to really kick it up a notch!
5. The silence in graveyards is a pause in conversations, for your benefit. Move on.
RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGHTER
1) You must venture into the dark woods, unarmed.
2) Gather a pile of stiff dry leaves and shape them into human form
3) Whisper into the ear of this thing-that-shakes-in-breezes an offer of dinner or a movie, animating my daughter of detritus into consciousness, you wizard of crumbling foliage, you romeo of loam
4) Leave me out of it, weirdo
It's Tuesday and you know what that means! It's time to gather the whole family and go down into the caverns as we do every week, drowning our worthless eyes in darkness, slipping into deep cold pools and gnashing cave fish with our needle-like brittle teeth. Fun for all! Except the fish! And the day ends, floating in the subterranean void, false stars of exertion in our vision, listening to the hum of the earth that will one day swallow us again.
@BigFatFae
A modern replacement for external, unknowable horrors is horror coming from alienation with the self. Reading about modern studies on neuroscience, consciousness and identity, where we're told that the mind makes decisions faster than consciousness can follow, and consciousness doubles back with a false story saying "I decided that because of [reasons]" when reason wasn't a factor at all...
The true eldritch horror is that we think we're real, when we're just self-deluded rivers of words strapped to a meat machine that would do just fine without us.
WESTERN EXPLORER, CIRCA 1899: Hello! Tibetan natives! We have braved mountains and deserts to learn your ancient brain-melting mysteries! Terrify us with the cosmic insanity of things that simply ought not to be! Our minds are strong! We can handle the ultimate unknowable truth!
LAMA (nods sagely): Ah. You'll be here for the yak butter tea then.
EXPLORER: You have bested us. We will depart and speak of this no more.
@sempervirenx
Step one: Position yourself to the right or left of the ghost you'd like to turn into.
Step two: Pivot on the foot closest to the ghost and follow through with your other foot.
This should allow you to turn directly into the ghost.
NOTE: @signalstation is not a doctor or a supernaturalist and any negative consequences, physical or spiritual, thus incurred from a ghost/human copositioning are at one's own risk.
Dang! A bellyful of antlers!
Clowns enter a building by the highway furtively, a neon XXX in in the window. They're renting videos of men & women getting pied in the face over and over again. So many pies.
A clown leaves the peepshow booth, then another, then another, a crowd of them, more than could have fit inside.
Behind the building, a floppy-shoed & tired tramp approaches a clown in her car, engine running. The tramp leans in the car window, takes a proffered $20, then pretends to sniff a false flower on the driver's lapel. The flower squirts in the tramp's eye. It's a living.
Dang! They sawed him in half!
*collection of Mastoheroes appear on Sydney's doorstep*
"Resurrecting the Rorshach meme? I mean, when was this hopeless black fantasy supposed to happen? When were you planning to do it?"
SF: Do it? I'm not a Republic serial villain. Do you seriously think I'd explain my masterstroke if there remained the slightest chance of you affecting its outcome?
One player is "IT" and must touch all other players. Other players, when touched, are to freeze in place until the game is done, or until another player touches them.
The player who is IT may use cloning technology, traps, summon supernatural aid, or use psychological tricks in the pursuit of other players.
A player tagged by a clone of IT or by an otherdimensional shadowsister freezes for 1 minute only. Only a tag by IT results in a complete freeze.
If the bees die off, play is suspended until an alternate agricultural model is employed.
@Pasty
YOU HAVE SELECTED
[ X ] Replace
FOR THE COPYRIGHTED LIKENESS OF //your father, the actor//
Please select a replacement from the following:
[ ] A featureless man
[ ] Soda mascot (includes $5/wk adver-stipend)
[ ] Citizen Helpful (gov't mascot, free to all taxpayers)
[ X ] Nothing