Autumn Written in Blood


The gentle sensation of an autumn chill stroked against her cheeks, but Evangeline kept her eyes closed, and threw the duvet over her face. She tried to force herself to go back to sleep. She was sure that if she chose to rise from the comfort of her linens, she would see the mid-fall and winter frost dancing across her window pane. She could very well imagine herself settling for a warm cup of coffee at her usual cafe and take in the scenery for inspiration.

However, a cloak of numbness had wrapped itself around her soul, managed to keep her sullen, and not wanting to move. A vicious case of writer’s block had taken wake in her spirit, and was haunting her body like a disease.

“I need to check my phone…”

Evangeline let a sigh escape as she agonizingly roll beneath the covers onto her stomach and reached for her phone. These last few months had proven to be a struggle. Sleepless nights, trashed character concepts, and story board papers strewn about on the usually well kept floor. The life of a writer was shining at it’s darkest upon her. Sliding her fingers on the screen of her work phone, she saw multiple newsletters and amass of emails from her editor.

She groaned, knowing full well that her editor was going to hunt her down if she didn’t get back to him today, “I’ve gotta get up.”

With the vigor of an old decrepit 90 year old body, Evangeline’s feet touched the hard floors as she practically dragged herself towards the shower. The familiar hiss of hot water raining down from her shower head, her pajamas sluiced down to the floor. Her thoughts of hope also falling along with it.

Slipping into the spray of liquid heat, she washed, and scrubbed the grime of her sleepless escapade. Lately, Evangeline had been dreaming random oddities, she was seeing visions of unknown origins, while this should of been something to use as inspiration for her writing. The dreams made no linear sense nor did it strike passion, what it did do, plant a seed of wariness and perhaps… fear.

Evangeline shook her head, maybe being an author had finally taken a toll on her sanity. Causing her to frequently hallucinate more than live properly in the real conforms of reality.

“And that’s why I’m a writer…”




I miss eating apples… Seeing this gif always makes me miss their sweet tartness and juicy flesh that always makes that nice crisp sound when you puncture the neck of it.

I have a confession, I think my mind likes to toy with me a lot when I write. I hear many voices but no one seems to be around. I’m a haunted house of my own, with many secrets hidden inside.

You’ll probably get lost in the labyrinth of my mind, there’s only a one way ticket in but no exit out. Someone once said that when you go into a writer’s head, that you’ll find a lot of messed up and strange things. I’m the grand library of strange and foreign, toiling away at my desk and writing things that don’t make sense.

But there’s this obsession, that I need to keep writing or I won’t be able to breathe. It’s a crazy thing, where the lines of sanity blur with insanity. It’s a habit, it’s a type of drug, if I am not able to type or write, I feel the withdrawal deep in my bones.

Shaken not stirred, the fine threads of reality are blurred. For the voices in my head demand to speak, if they stay unspoken, they will fill me up to the brim for weeks.


Wreak havoc.

I Wonder, I Wander

I’ve lit candles that are scented of the seasons to come, welcoming the entities of autumn and winter to come upon swift feet. While in the area I live in California will never be blessed with the beauty of snow, the nip of winter on my cheeks and seasonal favorite drinks will do. I’m always finding myself longing for cooler and less sunny days than others, I feel more at peace when the sky is colored white and gray, and rain escapes the heavens.

Today, I’ve disconnected myself from my computer and sat myself on my mobile platform (I.e. IPad, Bluetooth keyboard, and a portable folding desk), for I felt that I was drowning myself too much with electronic media. Sometimes I will find myself stuck to the computer, and while it is my passion to write, I get drawn to social media areas and attract bad mojo to myself.

One of the bad mojos, is self doubt, and contracting too much negative energies from posts that just reek of nasty vibes and ill intent. I’m an empath, or to be more straight forward, a witch. I’m fairly certain I’ll have a few people guffaw and give me the ‘you read Harry Potter a little too much’ spiel, but you are entitled to your opinions and statements, as I am to my own.

I realized that I stopped utilizing my skills for some time with my magic work, and that’s not something I like doing. I know these things usually happen when I focus too hard on something that I am not fully enjoying anymore, but it just ends up eating the last of my energy that I forget to take care of my own spiritual needs.

A walk in nature, or sitting in the garden will do the trick to elevate my vibrations and heighten my senses. Lighting candles that focus on the seasons that energize me help bring me centered as well, as well as holding my beautiful familiar. Ms. Jasper-Onyx, who seems to be infatuated with a fly at the moment, has always stuck her pretty little claws in my buttocks to remind me to breathe and step away from my computer to reevaluate my chakras.

Also, as I’ve taken a step back and heard the familiar whispers of the wind, and my intuition calling out from the darkness. I realize there’s still much for me to really think and discover to keep doing what I love, and manifest it properly. Writing has been my outlet for as long as I can remember, as I pull out plenty of books with mismatched passages and scribbles from years passed…

So I will write my intent here, as I wonder and I wander through this journey of life.

I will manifest my passions into reality, I will breathe the intentions of my heart and release that intent into the universe. Only love and light may pass to my domain, for I am the seeker of the truth, passions, and the maker of my dreams.