Pagan Culture

Looking Back…

2012-01-27T05:13:00.017-05:00

I’vereread many of my old posts… Some left me giggling, a few crying, and many ofthem made me go, “My goodness, I’ve grown quite a bit these last few years.”The exercise also helped me decide not to change a thing about my old entries.Remember how I had planned to edit everything? Well, I won’t.

Ienjoyed the opportunity of looking back and seeing how I’ve changed, and inwhat ways I remain the same witchy writer. Some of the changes are not actual changes; not really. Realization andself-understanding are better descriptions for what I’ve gone through.

Forinstance, in my answers to a meme I posted on January 2011, I said thatSin/Nanna was my patron god and Hekate my patroness goddess. I remember howuneasy I felt when I responded to those questions, but I didn’t know why.Today, I know: I don’t really have a patron god or patroness goddess. Iidentify with Sin, The Green Man, Hekate and The Morrigan, but I see them asdifferent aspects of One Devine that needs no gender division.

So…I haven’t really changed. It wasn’t that a year ago I believed those gods weremy patrons and I’ve changed my mind; no. The truth is that I didn’t understandwhat my heart already knew. It took me some time to see it.

Ialso like comparing my 2009 writing to that of today. This was the part thatmade me giggle the most. Posts and stories that used to take me hours to compose;now they take less than a third of the time. And the writing is tighter andmore reflective of what I want to convey.

Awriter friend advised me to strip my blog of “bad grammar, sloppysyntax, weak writing structure, and anything that might lead a reader tobelieve that I’m anything less than a serious author in the making.” I know shemeans well, so I’ll follow some of her advice. I’ll edit and probably developselected titles from the short fiction I’ve written for Pagan Culture, but I’mleaving my other posts alone.

Ilearned something else. I used to think that I didn’t have a diary, but what’sPagan Culture if not my journal?

Doyou treat your blog as a personal, artistic or work journal? Has your bloggingtheme changed since your began sharing your thoughts with the world?

Now back to writing fiction. I left my main character in a terriblemood… in the middle of her kitchen garden… holding a machete… I don’t remember seeingany weeds. She might behead the lettuce… or the garlic. Um, did I just hear a peppery scream?

Featured on nbc.com

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Shoveling Sh*t from a Sitting Position

2012-01-24T10:13:00.020-05:00

Ihaven’t been feeling well these last two weeks. There have been headaches,stomach aches, unfounded inner outbursts, lack of appetite, insomnia, and worstof all, I spent thirteen plus days not been able to add anything good to my work in progress.

Iwas stuck on one scene. When it felt like my head was going to explode, I tooka break and spent half a day cooking, playing games and watching TV with myPiano Man and the Little Princess. Actually, I determined not to disrupt mymisery, but my Piano Man wouldn’t hear of it. He showed up at my writingstudio, told me, “Cheer the fuck up.” He kissed me hard, waved delicious creamed spinach and sweet potato casserole in my face, and took me home for a few days.

Iresumed my writing the night after the kiss and the spinach. The storytelling—orshould that be story-writing?—didn’t improve, but I was energized with fresh fortitude.I took the scene that was kicking my behind and rewrote it five times. I, whileneck deep in despair, knew thateverything I had written was crap. But in the words of Stephen King, “Stoppinga piece of work just because it’s hard, either emotionally or imaginatively, isa bad idea. Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, andsometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing is toshovel shit from a sitting position.”

SoI went back and reread all the shoveled shit. And you know what, my WickedDarlings? Three of the drafts stunk like a garden of rotten buttholes under a middaydesert sun. Then I read the oldest of the drafts, and voilà! I found my way backinto the story.

Curiousabout what froze my flow? A few things:

-My main character is a bit older than I thought.

-She is best friends with a guy, not with the girl I created for her.

-Alma Mia Cienfuegos will not allow anyone but herself to narrate her story.

I’mnot saying that my character is writing her tale; my stories and my lifeare mine to sculpt. But in storytelling like in spirituality, things can goterribly wrong when one tries to follow an unbendable plot. It is great to havean idea of where we want our lives and stories to go, but the world is ever-changing.Only those who bend and twist with its turns will live and have a chance athappiness.

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Spilled Innards

2012-01-22T05:13:00.032-05:00

Dawn of the Dreadfuls by Steve Hockensmith, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12

“Walking out in the middle of afuneral would be, of course, bad form. So attempting to walk out on one’s ownwas beyond the pale.” Nope, m’luvs, can’t forget your manners just because you’vereached zombie status.

Dreadfully Ever After by Steve Hockensmith, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12

“...and it was heaven...even ifshe was standing in the spilled innards of a disemboweled dreadful.” Love is such a powerful thing. It even affects your sense of smell.

Unstable Environment by Marcia Colette, 2, 5, 9, 12

“I’ll sue the fucking cotton out of his pants!” … I nearly died laughing. Yep, I have the sense of humor of six-year-oldboy who has watched too much grownup TV.

Spilled innards, ha!

In case you are wondering about my Get Off Your Broom progress, well… um…about that… It’s cold. My stomach has been a jerk. It’s cold. I’ve been excisingmy mind (reading and writing like an mad woman) and my libido stays active. That counts, right? Oh, and it’s freaking cold.

Also, I think my mind knows something about my metabolism. I haven’t beeneating much these last few days. Except two days ago… I ate a bunch of chicken soup. And cake. And I have been snacking on leftover meringue ever since. Yum!

Click on the image to see my 2012 To-Be-Read List

1 for Witchy Books, 2 for Horror and Urban Fantasy, 3 for Daring You to Read…,

4 for LGBT Reading Challenge, 5 for Fantasy, 6 for Zombies, 7 for Dystopia,

8 for Audio Book, 9 for Outdo Yourself, 10 for 2012 Pagan Reading Challenge,
11 2012 Witches & Witchcraft Reading Challenge,
12 2012 Paranormal Reading Challenge, 13 Projecto Lecture 8 Inanna

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Bruja de Luz and Darkness, Too

2012-01-20T05:13:00.007-05:00

“Bruja is the Spanish word forWitch”. It’s not déjà vu, m’luvs; I’ve told you this before on one of myentries about Outside the Bones. But this is not about a book. It’s a postabout identity and roots.

My witchery is more mine that ithas ever been. I’ve defined it by adding to my knowledge, making changes to mymagic, and at times excluding bits that don’t work for me. I also remind myselfthat my first spells were chanted in Spanish, and that it was in my mothertongue that an amazing Witch told me, “Bola ’d Fuego,la luz no existe sin tinieblas. Una Bruja con poder entiende la importancia deuna vida balanceada.”

I still remember her beautifulserious face, and the way she wagged her finger at me from behind her librarycounter while sharing her wisdom. She has been gone from this world for a while,but before she traveled to the Summerlands I made sure she knew her wordsbecame a mantra. “Light does not exist without darkness. A Witch with powerunderstands the importance of a balanced life,” the power of knowledge and themagic of language.

My Caribbean roots are always withme. In my hips while I dance Bachata, in the aroma of my sancocho, in the heatof my blood, in the stories I write, and in some of the tales I read. This ismy 2012 books in Spanish reading list:

1. Anna Karenina by LeonTolstoy

2. Cuentos eróticos byChaucer-Bocacci Zweig-Petronio

3. Cumbres borrascosas byEmily Brontë

4. David Copperfield byCharles Dickens

5. La fortaleza digital byDan Brown

6. Grandes esperanzas byCharles Dickens

7. Historia de dos ciudadesby Charles Dickens

8. El jorobado de Notre Dameby Victor Hugo

9. Legado 1: Eldest byChristopher Paolini

10. Legado 2: Eragon byChristopher Paolini

11. La máquina del tiempoby H. G. Wells

12. María by Jorge Isaacs

13. El principe y el mendigoby Mark Twain

I know that only one of thesestories was originally written in Spanish, but the magic of language goesbeyond words. It extends to the examination of how others understand ideas. I willread the books I listed above, first in Spanish and then in English. I will readliterary criticism in each of the works, too. Then I will see what my witchybrain makes of the whole thing.

What does all this have to do withidentity and roots? Simple, my Wicked Darlings, I am no longer the girl wholistened in front of a library counter more than twenty years ago. I am a Witchwho loves diversity, balance, growth…

My twelfth grade AP SpanishLiterature teacher might explode with linguistic indignation if she reads what I’llwrite next, but life happens and I love who I am. I’m a Bruja de luz and darkness,too. Mrs. Ramírez is one of the most intelligent people I ever met, I’m sureshe’ll understand what I mean. If not, well… life happens and we live.

Click on the image to see my 2012 To-Be-Read List

1 for Witchy Books, 2 forHorror and Urban Fantasy, 3 forDaring You to Read…,

4 for LGBT Reading Challenge, 5 forFantasy, 6 for Zombies, 7 forDystopia,

8 for Audio Book, 9 forOutdo Yourself, 10 for 2012 Pagan Reading Challenge,
11 2012 Witches & Witchcraft Reading Challenge,
12 2012 Paranormal Reading Challenge, 13 ProjectoLecture 8 Inanna
PBP Week 3

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Double Witchy Cat Dare You...

2012-01-19T05:13:00.075-05:00

Yes,cat; not dog. Who said puppies get to have all the daring fun?

I’mdaring you to read Silent Spring byRachel Carson, a book that does something to remind you that “the planet thatfeeds you, dresses and shelters you…” needs help staying alive.

Itmight be a bit weird, but this nonfiction book has always felt like an exampleof real life urban fantasy to me. Carson was a heroine of her times, and ours,too. If you like books about individuals who kick butt, then go ahead and give Silent Spring a chance.

Andin case you are not already tired of me running my pie hole about, um… myself,I’ve been multi tagged for more. Yep, the lovely and all around witchy writersof In The Arms of Mother Earth, That Witch Is True, Aoibheal’s Lair, By Land, Sky and Sea, The Silence of the Moon, and The Witch of the Howling Creek said Imust bless you, ~~although annoy you might be more accurate~~, with randominformation about me. I’m an Aries, so of course I’m just too happy to oblige!

11 RandomThings about Me:

1. I’m a giver, but not a very good sharer.

2.I don’t like anyone sitting on my writing space.

3.The same goes, times three and a few hexes, for my altar.

4.Liars have no room in my life; even if we share blood.

5. I don’t understand intelligentnarrow-minded people.

6.“God-loving” religions that condemn people to eternal suffering, just becausethey don’t share their views, make my head want to explode with confusion.

7.Skinny jeans look ridiculous on me, and I’ve often tried them on and laughed atmyself.

8.I find freckles on pale skin extremely sexy.

9.I can’t separate sex from love, and I like that about me.

10. I believe that to be openly gay,and happy in today’s society, is admirable.

11.I miss my dog every second of the day.

NowI’ll answer the 1^st and 11^th question from every personwho tagged me. I was supposed to answer eleven from each, but that’s a bitmuch. I’m playing it lazy…

FromTanaé: What one piece of art has moved you more than anyother? Frédéric Chopin’s “Vals Opus 69 No.1 Op. Posth.” performed bymy Piano Man. It leaves me in tears nearly every time.

Name the first word or image that comes to mind.I thought about Sweet Williams after a warm Caribbean rain.

FromHannah: Where is your favourite place? Why? I loveFlushing Meadows Corona Park in summer nights… when the moon is dark and thestars bright.

What is your favourite song? “Pelo Suelto”by Gloria Trevi; read You’ll Dance When I Die to know why.

FromVickie: Who is your favorite author and why? A Terry Pratchett,Gabriel García Márquez, Sherrilyn Kenyon and Neil Gaiman hybrid.

On the weekends, if you have time, sleeping late orafternoon naps? Definitely naps!

FromDana: You have 48 hours left to live: what do you do withthem? I have no idea, but some of it will have to do with sex.

What’s your favorite secret indulgence?Dulce de leche ice cream and burned peach pie. Okay, so is not really a secret.

FromDiandra: What was your worst date, and why? It was my lastdate before meeting my Piano Man. After I told the guy that I wasn’tinterested, he told me he “could buy women like me a dime a dozen.” He yelledthe words as I walked out of a crowded restaurant in New York City. Yep, Mr.Wall Street Broker was extremely classy.
Where do you want to be in three years? I want to bewriting, loving and witching successfully.

FromWillow: What is one hairstyle you’ve always wanted to try but havestopped yourself for one reason or another, be it a different hair color,extensions, whatever? None really; I’ve done anything imaginable to my hair.
Do you have, or have you ever made, a witches’ bottle? Yes, manytimes. Actually, I will make one to charge under the following Dark Moon.

Twelvequestions, huh? I don’t like that number. Guess you—each of you—get to ask me the 13^th question. Wouldn’t want me to have bad luck, would you?

Now,~~because I’m a bit lazy and~~ because I would hate to waste perfectlyquestions, I’ll tag eleven Wicked Darlings, and suggest they answer the 3^rdand 9^th questions from the ones who tagged me. Yes, m’luv, you’reit!

1.KimR

2.Pray to the Moon

3.Daydream Believer

4.Torizworld

5.Through Witch-Colored Glasses

6.Spiritual Thoughts

7.Living a Faerie Tale

8.Sugar and Cyanide

9.Lilac Wolf

10.Through Autumn Eyes

11.Keltik’s Korner

Pleasevisit any of the lovelies who tagged me for the game rules. And doshare your thoughts, if you decide to take my dare and read Silent Spring. While you are it, stop by Tinga’s Reviews and see who else is daring you to read.

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Proud of the Lines in the Silver Glass

2012-01-16T23:28:00.001-05:00

Thelast relationships I was in, before falling broom over heels for my Piano Man,were with models. I married one, was engaged to another, and ran for the hillsbefore the third gave me enough reasons to strangle him. They were good men,and they loved me dearly. But looking back, I feel I didn’t love them enough tonotice certain things. Or maybe I didn’t know what to look for.

Youare probably wondering what I’m talking about, huh? I know, my Luvs, I getloquacious when I think about uncomfortable pasts… but I have a point. It hasto do with the behavior of one of my ex’s. I haven’t seen him in years, so someof these might no longer be true—I hope it isn’t. He loved his face, his body,his hair, and the way women and men went crazy at the sight of him. One summer,during an award ceremony, we had our first and last fight. I thought he had gottenupset after my red faerie dress, hair and sparkly tattoos got more attentionthan he did. But I think I was wrong…

MyPiano Man and I went to see “Follies”, last week. And inthe gloominess of a decaying stage, littered with the sad present-lives of itsfallen stars, I understood that the man who I was with all those years ago wasnot upset because my dress, hair and tattoos had mesmerized everyone. He hurtbecause earlier that night, I discovered my first gray hair.

Iwas so happy about finally getting some sage that I failed to notice hisdesperation. My gray hair horrifiedhim. I smacked his shaky hand when it approached my head with a pair oftweezers. I had been glaring at my ex, when he said, “You are right, pulling itout will only encourage more to come out. We’ll dye it tomorrow.”

Iignored the comment and went to the party with a smile that kept me in aglorious blaze. In my witchy soul, age, experience, lines on a happy face, grayhair… are proofs that one has lived; evidence that a heart has danced at thebeat of the Earth’s rhythm for a while. Gray hairs are sage badges. A Witchfinds pride in becoming a Crone.

“Follies”presents stars that have lost their glow, but that is not the show’s maintheme. The musical is about how “dreams and reality collide for one triumphant,haunting and unforgettable night when former members of the “Weismann’sFollies” reunite on the eve of their theater’s demolition. Two couples remembertheir glorious past and face the harsher realities of the present…”

That last sentence was the bit that made me feelterrible about my ex and many others who hold their “glorious past” as the bestthing they will ever have. When that ‘best thing’ is a face, a voice, a body,youth… years become a curse, rarely a blessing. Life must be a terrible thingto endure when one is not proud of the lines in the silver glass.

Look at this hair and this smile, stunning has no age.
Isn't my friend, Lee Rockwell, a beautiful being?

Now I understand the forlorn expression under the mirthful makeup...

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A Reckless Witch

2012-01-13T05:13:00.104-05:00

Iread an average of 100 books a year, give or add another hundred—I know *sigh* myname is Magaly Guerrero and I’m addicted to words. Out of the 100+++ books Iread last year, you might find 13 or fewer that are nonfiction.

Iwrite, read and breathe dark fiction. If you don’t believe me, just go ahead and read my bio. Ihave nothing against writing that discusses facts; as a matter of fact *grin*I’m a fan of dictionaries, biographies, almanacs, and most books about herbs. But I LOVE stories with characters that emerge right out ofthe deepest places in writers’ hearts and heads.

Mylatest portion of fictional ambrosia was served by Debora Geary. Her novel, A Reckless Witch, is life, excitementand magic whipped into the most delicious of tales. I will probably read it again. I love it because it fullyreflects a vital part of my inner witchy self. If you have the chance to readit—and I pray you do—please let me know what you think. Better yet, write about it and tell the world what you liked most.

My favorite part is the main character. “As a child, Sierra Brighton traveledthe world. She swam with the baby whales, danced in storm funnels, and lived incomplete magical freedom. And then Momma died and Sierra ended up in fostercare, an unhappy and very secret witch.” But don’t despair, my luvs, for Sierra finds a witchy family. Andtogether, they discover the power of eclectic witchery, the importance of trust and the magic of fifty foot waves.

Hope you are having a wonderful Friday the 13^th, my Wicked Darlings. I celebrated this wondrous day by reading 13 books from the 1^st to 13^th of January. I’ve quoted my favorite bits out of every tale I read. Hm, I kind of like this quote sharing idea. I might do it every month... Here are some for January:

1. A Reckless Witch byDebora Geary, 1, 5, 8, 9, 10, 11

“The water canbe fearsome. A joy, a partner, but also a life-taker.” I choose to focus on the ‘joy,’‘partner’ and giving bits ;-)

2. Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins, 5, 7, 8, 9

“I alwayschannel my emotions into my work. That way,” it helps me share the good, the bad, the things that really piss meoff, and of course, all the yumminess, too.

3. Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen, 1, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

“When you’re happy for yourself, it fills you. Whenyou’re happy for someone else, it pours over.”

4. The Fall by Guillermo del Toro, 2, 5, 9, 12

“Even if oneunderstands that what one is doing is mad, it is indeed still madness”

5. Fledgling Witch by KarenNilsen, 1, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12

“I’ve taken alot of time devising insults for you.”

6. Hammered: Iron Druid Chronicles by KevinHearne, 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12

“Excellent!”Jesus beamed at him. “Now go and stake some vamps. Especially the sparkly emoones.” This made me laugh for a long,long, long time. Thanks, Kevin!

7. Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins, 5, 7, 8, 9 “It takes ten times as long to put yourself backtogether as it does to fall apart.”

8. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies byJane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12

“Walking out in the middle of a funeral would be,of course, bad form. So attempting to walk out on one’s own was beyond thepale.”

9. Side Jobs by Jim Butcher, 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12

“Chilidogs, funnel cakes, fried bread, majorly greasy pizza, candy apples, ye gods.Evil food smells amazing—which is either proof that there is a Satan or someequivalent out there, or that the Almighty doesn’t actually want everyone toeat organic tofu all the time. I can’t decide.” Another gigglier!

10. Spirit ofFlight by Rene J. Smith, 1, 9

“Magic isbelieving in yourself. If you can do that, you can make anything happen.”

11. Strange Candy Laurell K.Hamilton, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12

“Moonlightshivered through the curtains.” I love this quote because I can see it happening, can’t you?

12. The Witch of the Blackbird Pond byElizabeth George Speare, 1, 8, 9, 10, 11

“What a pity that every child couldn’t learn how to readunder a willow tree.”

13. The Witches of Eastwick by JohnUpdike, 1, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

“Of course, I wouldn’t knowa snowy egret if I were pissing on one. Lunch?” I’mcrazy about this quote because with 15 words the author tells me exactly whothe speaker is. Of course, Daryl Van Horne also shows his uniqueness when hesays things like, “I always like a little pussy after lunch.”

What have you read lately, my Wicked Darlings? Anything witchy?

***

Click on theimage to see my 2012 To-Be-Read List

1 for Witchy Books, 2 forHorror and Urban Fantasy, 3 forDaring You to Read…,

4 for LGBT Reading Challenge, 5 forFantasy, 6 for Zombies, 7 forDystopia,

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Gardens and Thorn

2012-01-10T10:13:00.033-05:00

Warning: some genitalslang and a bit of gore.

I was asked to write a story I wasafraid to tell. I let my brain chew on the request for two weeks, and it cameup with nothing. I decided to make up a tale. I conjured up the three mostimportant facts I had ever learned about truth, fiction and lies:

1. Gabriel García Márquez taught me thatbelievable lies are formed by real specificities.

2. The Witch I mostadmire, once said to me, “Fireball, people will believe lies that come inthrees, especially if you fib while looking at them in the eye.”

3. Someone, whose workI have never read, wrote something about great storytellers adding real frogsto their fantasy gardens.

My story began in a garden of sand,rock and death…

I glared at the blood-fattick stuck to my left wrist, and wondered how long it had been sucking the lifeout of me. Hours? Days? Anything was possible. I hadn’t bathed in fourteendays, and I had been too damn exhausted to check myself for bugs.

I sighed and continuedsearching for the enemy. They were close. Their steps had made Thorn and I dropto our stomachs, and take cover behind a desiccated log. She had been the oneto point out the tick and grin. I had wanted to punch her on the face. But weboth knew I couldn’t hit her or remove the tick. To move around the dead leaveswe had landed on would have been like rolling on dry cereal—daring and dumb.

I hated the heat, crunchyleaves, eternal summer in the Sandbox, and most of all I hated our platoon’sRadioman. It was his fault that Thorn and I were out there, hoping a shriveledlog could keep us from getting shot. I couldn’t believe the fuckface had liedto the Platoon Sergeant about knowing how to operate the com unit. Ihope he gets shot in the ass one day.

My stomach was hurting. Iwished I could lie on my side to release some of the pressure, but the leaveswere too dry. Any movement would have given away our position. My nutsack wasbeing crushed by my left leg and the weight of my pack. The whole thing wasdriving me insane. If any gods existed, someone would shoot the Radioman’sballs off.

“Dude, you need to stopfarting,” Thorn hissed. “They will track us by your stench.”

“I need to take a shit.” Itook long breaths and prayed for less gas. “We’ve been eating MREs for twofucking months and you know they constipate the crap out of me.”

Thorn looked away. I saw her finger curl around the trigger. I mimicked her.The enemy was coming our way. I hoped it was just a small search party. Anymore than that and we would be fucked.

I tried looking through mysights and sweat blurred the world. It felt like someone had sprayed lemonjuice in my eyeballs. My vision cleared up after a few seconds, but we werestill in deep shit. We were hiding at the center of a clearing. I thanked thegods for the log and for the small hill we were using as a hideout. Then Icursed the same deities for giving the enemy the tree line to hide in.

The brim of a camouflagedcover made me press a sweaty cheek against the buttstock of my rifle. Breathe,I coached myself. You’ve trained for this. I searched and assessedthe area, but couldn’t find the cover or the head it sat on. “Where did theygo?” I asked Thorn.

“They?” Thorn inhaled andexhaled audibly. Her breath stank like spoilt meat. “How many?” she asked. “Ihaven’t seen anything. I thought I heard something, but I can’t be sure itwasn’t your gut.”

“Not sure…” I looked aroundto see if I could catch a glimpse of the cover. “I saw camouflaged fabric, Ithink. A fireteam or a couple of scouts, what do you think?”

“I don’t know, West.” Thornchecked her safety. “Get ready to shoot fast and then rush to the tree line.”

“To shoot at what, Thorn?”I relaxed my grip on the buttstock, but my jaws were about to snap from thepressure. “Didn’t you just say you hadn’t seen a fucking thing?”

“What about if they sawus?”

“They who? I’m not shootingblind.” I swallowed. “What about friendlies?”

Thorn shook her head slowlyfrom side to side. “I’m sure your folks will feel better when I tell them youhesitated because you were afraid of shooting friendlies. It won’tbe as painful for them if your brains are spilt because you tried to be nice. Who knows, you might even get shotby nice people’s bullets. You aresuch a piece of—” Steps on dried leaves silenced Thorn. She lookedat me without blinking.

I blinked three times fastto let her know I had heard the noise, too.

She aimed.

I licked dry lips. I lookedthrough my sights. I double checked my safety.

We shot.

Thorn and I didn’t say aword during our hike back to the Command Post. It was already dark when we gotback, but the Platoon Sergeant debriefed us upon arrival. We told him we hadfound a clearing and were able to radio in the request for a capable Radioman.We skipped the fact that we had shot and buried a kid with his grown man rifleand his two grenades. We needed to report fired rounds, so we said we had shota few because Thorn thought she had seen something.

“Almighty Thorn added someghosts to her confirmed kills?” The Platoon Sergeant roared at his stupid joke.

Thorn stared at him with ablank look on her face.

The Platoon Sergeantlaughed louder, probably thinking he finally caught Thorn tired enough not tocrush him with one of her smartass comebacks. None of us could outdo AlmightyIron Bitch Thorn. She was the best shot in our platoon, and some people’s ballsshrunk at the mere thought of a pussy been better with a gun than they were.

I laughed and elbowed mybest friend hard in the ribs to see if that would keep her hands from shakingbehind her back. “You better get some sleep, Iron Bitch.” I looked Thorn rightthe eye. “Or you might shoot some more things that aren’t there.”

The Platoon Sergeant nearlylaughed his ass off the chair.

Thorn looked at me, and Iwas surprised and terrified by the lack of a scowl on her face.

“Go shit, shower andshave.” The Platoon Sergeant wiped tears off his sand dusted cheeks. “I meanit,” he said. He made a gun with his index finger and thumb, and aimed it atThorn and then at me. “You two stink like a bag of dirty ass.” He shot, andthen blew on the tip of his finger fun.

We walked towards the tentwe had been sharing since the Corpsman had gone on leave. Everybody in ourcompany slept in four temporary domes, one dome per platoon, except Thorn andthe Corpsman who were the only females in our unit. After a guy tried to crawlinto Thorn’s bed in the middle of the night, and she broke his jaw with herhelmet, our Platoon Sergeant decided that ‘the ladies would do better in a twoman tent close to the Duty Hut where a guard could keep an eye on them.’

Thorn and I joined theMarine Corps under the Buddy System. We went to Boot Camp together, did BasicWarrior Training together, and had been attached to the same units during ourentire military career. We started hanging out in fifth grade; the day she tooka shit in the backpack of a kid who called me a faggot. Thorn never told me shedid it, but it had to have been her. We had been best friends ever since.

She had always beenstronger than I was in the emotion department. That was the reason why my soulbroke in two, when we entered the tent and she began to sob into her hands. Iunslung the rifle from her left shoulder and leaned it against side of thetent. Her flak jacket was unsnapped. I removed it and watched her chest rumbleunder her cammy blouse. Thorn’s arms fell limp against her side. I hugged herand put my chin on top of her head. “We’ll go shower after you’re done. You cango first.”

“No,” she shook her headand I felt snot or tears on my neck. “You go,” she sucked in some snot. “I’llstay here.”

I sighed. “I need to usethe head. I’ll be back.” The growling in my stomach had been competing with herwailing for a while, but I padded my belly to remind her just how bad I neededto go to the bathroom. “Have your gas mask handy tonight.” I grinned, but Idoubted she noticed.

I stripped down to my greenskivvies, grabbed a bar of soap, my toothbrush and a towel, and left the tent.Halfway to the head, I decided to walk back to the Duty Hut and ask the guardon duty if he could keep an eye on Thorn. I slowed down a few feet away from the sand colored shed when I heardThorn’s name creeping out of the thin wooden walls.

“Sergeant Thorn? No man,you’re shit out of luck.” The guy laughed. “That bitch fucked up Harrison’sface with a helmet. And he was just trying to sweeten her up a bit.”

“I heard,” said a secondguy. “It would be stupid to try fucking her anyway. Her man looks like he eatsbricks for breakfast.”

“West’s not her man. He batsfor the Don’t Ask Me and I Won’t Tell You How I Like It in the Ass Team.They’re friends since they were kids. But you’re right about the brick part;West’s a fucking animal.”

“Yeah,” agreed the secondvoice, which was beginning to sound very familiar. “He was all up in my faceabout not knowing how to work the new radio. It’s not my fault if the PlatoonSergeant ordered the wrong damn equipment. Are you sure he’s not fucking her?”

“Positive,” said the guywho I was sure was the Duty. “She’s hitched to a paper-pusher. I don’t like herone bit. She’s a show off. But can’t deny she’s a good Marine and one of thoseweird good chicks. If my Susan keeps her cunt as secured as Thorn keeps hers,I’ll marry her as soon as I get home. Of fuck! It’s almost 2200. I need to takethese forms to the armory or them bitches will be all up in my case.”

I moved to the rear of thehut before the Duty and the Radioman walked out.

“Wanna come with?”

“Nah,” said the Radioman.“I’m going to go tell Thorn why I’m the man of her dreams.”

“You better do it in lessthan ten minutes,” the Duty checked his watch. “I saw her guard dog walking tothe head a bit ago.” The Duty double timed towards the armory, and the Radiomanwalked slowly towards his dome.

I followed Radioan. He stoppedin front of the entrance of the dome and looked both ways. He must have thoughtthat no one had seen him because he began to walk in the direction of Thorn’stent.

I hid in the shadows. Thecamp was quiet at that hour of the night. Marines were chatting with family andfriends, playing games and drinking, or just jerking off alone. The Radiomansped up and looked behind him once. I saw a look on his face that said hewasn’t going to ask Thorn out to a nice walk under the desert stars. I wasgoing to jump out and beat that look off his face, but stopped myself. If I catch him in the act, I thought, I can really make him pay.

He entered Thorn’s tent.

I waited in the dark.

I rushed in when I heard acharging handle being racked to the rear. I knew Thorn. My best friend didn’tcock a rifle she wasn’t ready to shoot.

I found her aiming herrifle at the spot between the Radioman’s legs.

I stood next to her andwhispered, “Thorn?”

She shook her head. “Do youfeel that?” She said to the Radioman as she jabbed him in the balls with themuzzle of her rifle. “You come anywhere near me, again, and I’ll shoot you inthe nuts right after I make you eat your own dick. The Radioman whimpered, andThorn pushed harder. “Now leave.”

The Radioman ran for thetent flap, but I grabbed him by the back of the neck before he reached theentrance.

“Let him go, West.” Thornlaid her rifle next to her pillow and stared at me. She noticed me looking atthe scratch on her neck and at her torn skivvie shirt. She put a hand over a ripthat showed her sports bra. “It’s okay, West. He didn’t. Just let him go.”

I still gripped theRadioman’s neck. “I’ll just walk him to his dome.” I grinned at her. “And Istill need to go to the head.”

She nodded, and I thought, she will be okay.

I dropped the Radioman offwhere he belonged. I finally took the shit I had been dying to squeeze out.Then I left two weeks’ worth of grime in the shower.

I got back to the tent andfound my dirty cammies in a pile by the flap, next to Thorn’s. I walked insideand the place smelled nice. Thorn looked cleaned too. That woman could domiracles with a canteen of water, alcohol and powder scented baby wipes.

“You had the Corpsman takea look at that arm?” Her tone brought my mother to mind. “I’m not sharing tentswith you if Lyme Disease rots your arm.”

“The Doc checked it, andsaid there is no need for amputation. Guess I don’t get to go home on medicalleave.” I smiled because I knew she would be okay.

Thorn was humming Tiny Bubbles when I drifted off tosleep. She always did that when she was happy or in control.

Thorn and I jumped out ofour racks at the same time. There were boots thumping past our tent. I was inshorts and Thorn wore sweats—she was always cold. We put on our boots and ranout to the sun and the chaos.

“What’s going on?” I askedthe first Marine I bumped into.

“The Duty found someonehanging from the gate,” he said.

Thorn and I didn’t say aword as we approached the gate. We stopped at the back of the crowd. TheRadioman’s arms were tied together over his head with barbwire. The same wirehad been used to suspend him from the top of the chain link fence. He was nakedfrom the waist down. There was a bloody black hole where his genitals shouldhave been. The toes of his left foot were touching the ground. Next to thetoes, and to something that looked like the Radioman’s pants, laid two lumps ofmeat covered in ants. I looked at his face and stared at the dark and wrinkledthing sticking out of his mouth.

Thorn squeezed my hand.“You knew that if I told on him,” she said, “the command would have put mebehind a desk or sent me home. I don’t know how to be anything other than aMarine in the field, West. You knew that, didn’t’ you?”

“I knew,” I said.

She walked a little closerto me. “I was the one who crapped in Christian Santos’ backpack when we were onfifth grade.”

I squeezed her hand. “Iknew that, too.”

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Wicked Darlings, Have You Seen My Broom?

2012-01-08T10:13:00.049-05:00

Ifyou are searching for my broom, PLEASE, keep an eye out for my witchy Daily Thirteen Routine, too. Ihaven’t seen my workout list in forever. And I think Serenitybugged my house. I haven’t exercised one bit in the last two weeks, and it feels like she knows. I seriously need to get closed and physical with her New Year’s Fitness Challenge.

Actually,the bit about not doing anything is a lie. I’ve been working really hard, organizingmy writing studio—a writing home away from home—where I can treat myself to thewonders of writing seclusion. Yes, I said writing 3 times… 4 times, in the sameparagraph. And that is a magnificent thing, for writing fiction is what I shouldbe doing. Um… make that 5 times.

Theplace I share with my Piano Man and the Little Princess is ginormous in NewYork City standards. However, it is a bit tight when it comes to my witcheryand the process of writing. If you work from home, and you don’t have muchspace, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Sometimes, it is very difficultto create worlds while the outside world turns right on the other room or nextto me.

Yousee, my Wicked Darlings, I’m one of those writers who CANNOT write in cafés orwith opened windows. The sun and the moon are my playful mates, and if they are watchingme I can’t resist looking back… and playing. This means that I write with theblinds closed, with no music or anything else that might get me out of my world. I can edit with distractions,but that’s my limit.

I’ma solitary writer. I thank the Universe, every day, for I’ve been blessed witha man who understands my needs. Now, Universe, won’tyou be a darling and find me some writing space that is a bit closer to therest of my home? Like, um, in the same house?

Oh,and while I’m on the subject of asking for stuff, can you make the days a bitlonger, too? I want time to love, write, exercise, study, read, blog, do silly things… and I need to find my broom. *looks down* Hot damn! my broom hasbeen right under me all this time. I hadn’t noticed it because I’ve beensitting on my butt.

Butworry not, my Wicked Luvs; I’ve jumped off my broom, again, and I’m on my way toexplore the local cemetery at a fast pace; at a really fast pace, for I’m thinking about my lover’s hands playing all overmy sore muscles, tonight. Yum!

I melt a little every time I see my Piano Man in front of his instrument.

Whathave you been up to, my Wicked Darlings? Any juicy changes you wish to sharewith your Wicked Witch and Darlings?

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About Frogs!

2012-01-06T10:13:00.046-05:00

Myaltar is the size of my entire life.

I’mconstantly adding things to it. I recently added a wand, carved by Mina’shubby and blessed by his wife’s loving soul; and “a nonfiction book,written and illustrated by [the Little Princess] and edited and lettered by [myPiano Man].”

Itwas love at first read, my Wicked Darlings.

The book theme was the LittlePrincess’ idea, and that had me in tears before I was done adoring the cover.

Iwas taken by every page detailing how a frog goes from egg to beautiful hopping bit of life. But I must admit to having two favorite pages: “Stage 5: Tail starts toshrink!” and the authors’ biographies. The first because the Little Princess drew the frog inside acomputer. She thought I would like to see the medium where I write my stories. How cool is that? Andthe second… well, imagine the Little Princess staring at the ceiling with a wrinkled brow—she does that when she is thinking really hard—dictating:

“Aboutthe Authors[she read something similar in one of her American Girl Dolls books, and insisted on having a bio.]

[The Little Princess] has brown hair and green eyes. She haslight skin. She studies writing at Pearls Yonkers School.

[My Piano Man] has brown eyes and brown hair. He is going tomarry Magaly Guerrero. He lives in the Bronx in an apartment.”

Iwish I had a picture of her face while the thought was going through her mind.Seriously, my luvs, the Little Princess’ thinking face is priceless.

Youare probably thinking, Yeah, Witch, verycute, but what does all this have to do with your altar?

It’s simple; in my mind and heart, About Frogs! will always be part of my altar. Only things thattouch my heart become essential to my magic. In this picture you cansee witchy girls from Shelle, a Witch in Jeans from Judy, several wands fromMina, a silver hammer from my nephew, Old Man Death from Yudelis, rocks anddriftwood from too many people to mention… About Frogs! is right under the typewriterI got from the most adorable man alive.

What, youdon’t think he is the most adorable man alive? Here is proof:

My Piano Man ~~holding Friday Lavender~~ sleeping next to my grenade box. The latter is also part of my altar; thatcrooked thing on top of it is my broomstick. Yep, my altar is spread all over the house. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Whatwas the latest thing you added to your altar? And what made that item specialenough to deserve to be part of your sacred space?

Thiswas my first Pagan Blog Project 2012 entry; 51 more to go ;-)

Also,congratulate KimR for winning The Little Box of Spells.

Send your info,and I’ll make sure you get the goodies.

I hope youenjoy your prize!

P.S. If you don’t hear from me again, my Piano Man probably locked me away (in my grenade box) for publishing his adorable picture.

*wicked grin for my Wicked Luvs,

and my heart for the man who deserves everything*

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Blessed to Death

2012-01-03T10:13:00.008-05:00

Thiswitchy tale can stand on its own two little legs, but I promise it will be lesswobbly—and a LOT more enjoyable—if you first read “Alexis’ Story” by Tori.

Here is a belated Winter Solstice gift for a friend who deserves much more.

Blessedto Death: Part II of Alexis’ Story

How do I tell a12-year-old blind witch that she’s the only one who can vanquish the ancientdemon who has been planning her death since way before her great-grandparentswere born?That question flew around and around my avian brain as I circled over the witchin question. I decided to follow my gut. It was early, and the school entrancewas deserted. I shifted from crow to human form right in front of the witch’seyes.

Shesquinted up at me. Her short black hair made her look extra pale in anunintentionally Goth kind of way. She opened her mouth to talk, but closed itagain.

“Whatwere you going to say?” I sat next to her on the sidewalk. She stared at me,but didn’t answer. “You aren’t mute,” I pressed on. “I heard you talking toyourself.”

Herquick fingers leafed through the book in her hands. She looked back and forthbetween me and the yellowish pages, and muttered words I couldn’t make out.

Isnatched the book from her. “I’m not the one you need to curse,” I said. Anervous witch chanting from a raggedy leather-bound book is never a good thing,especially for the one making her nervous. I wondered what teenage witches werelearning these days. I glanced at the spot she had been reading, “Easy EverydayBlessings?” I roared at the title.

Glaringat me, she got to her feet using a black cane for support, and resumed herchanting, “With the passion of fire, and with water’s strength; with the wisdomof air, and with earth’s grounding breath.” The witch’s cane shook in hergrasp. “I command you… I…” Something that looked like panic or courage tookover her face.

Hercane landed across my right ear and cheek, and she rushed back into the schoolbuilding.

Myface was throbbing. I could barely see through the pain. “Wait,” I stumbledafter the witch. What’s her freakingname? I asked myself. I looked at a piece of paper she had been using as abook mark. Her name was written under a huge red F. Alexis. “Alexis, wait.” I yanked the door opened, and followed thewitch’s scent into a janitor’s closet. I froze.

“Theyshould stop sending little nightmares to do grownup demons’ work.” Stian, hidingunder the skin of a middle-aged woman, held Alexis against his chest. Theystood in the middle of a circle I couldn’t cross. Stian’s voice sounded strangeand too masculine, coming out of a tiny woman’s mouth.

Ilooked around the room; we were alone. Alexis seemed to be in a trance. “Listento me Alexis,” I swallowed and wished I had taken advantage of the little timeI had spent with the witch. “That is not your teacher,” my voice didn’t seem toreach her. “Please, Alexis, you have to trust me. His name is Stian. He’s arogue demon who’s here to kill you, but you can banish him.” My words sounded senselessto my own ears, but I had to say them anyway. “You must banish him, littlewitch.”

“Don’tbe stupid, Mara,” Stian caressed Alexis’ hair. “Look into my eyes, child. I’myour teacher; you know that. Do what I say, darling. That woman is very, verybad.” Stian pointed at me with a cock of his head. “She is evil. I need you tohold my hands and repeat what I say, dear, or the evil woman won’t leave. Shewill hurt everyone if you don’t help me.”

Alexisnodded and I wanted to scream. “Don’t look in his eyes, Alexis. He is trying tosuck your magic.” I saw as Stian’s aura flared. He was a halo of white fireabout to consume the little witch. “He’ll kill you, Alexis. Run!”

ButAlexis wasn’t listening to me. Her own aura had flared red, blue, yellow andbrown, creating a double conduit between her magic and the demon’s power.

Stianopened his arms and dropped his barriers, in order to welcome Alexis’ soul.

Thewitch took a step back, picked up her cane with incredible speed, and used itto draw a smaller circle inside the one she had been sharing with Stian. Thedemon realized what the witch was doing and tried to escape, but Alexis’ circleheld strong.

Standingstraight and looking determined, Alexis yelled, “With the passion of fire, andwith water’s strength; with the wisdom of air, and with earth’s groundingbreath,” her cane smacked the ground three times, and with each blow the demon’saura sizzled. “I command you, Stian, to be blessed to death!”

Thedemon’s white aura was absorbed into Alexis’ glowing colorful form.

“B…but,” my tongue felt too big in my mouth. “No one has taught you anything. The Covensent me because you were… well, because you were weak and lost.”

“Thingsare not always what they seem, are they?” Alexis took her book from my hands,and walked past me.

Iturned around when a question came to mind. “You used a blessing to banish ademon; why?”

“Ididn’t banish him,” Alexis lifted her cane. “I consumed his energy.”

Iblinked. I didn’t know of anyone ever doing that. “How? You need to curse ademon to take his power. To do that, you must look into his eyes. Looking intoa demon’s eyes, grants him permission to steal your soul. You are still you,right?” She felt and smelled like she hadn’t change.

“Right;I didn’t curse him, remember? I blessed him into his dead. And I have beenblind for quite some time. I can’t look into anyone’s eyes, but that doesn’tmean I can’t see what’s inside them and around me. Also,” Alexis grinned andpadded her backpack with the cane, “I’m pretty awesome at playing witch.”

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Spellbinding Gifts, Post-Winter Solstice Goodies and Stuff...

2011-12-31T10:13:00.003-05:00

Some gifts keep on giving... Cliché, I know,but that doesn’t make it untrue.

Precious Winter Solstice Gifts…

1. Peace of Mind from Papi – mydad had surgery a couple of weeks ago. He knew about the procedure for a while,but didn’t tell me about it until it was completed, and he was safely home. Some might see his behavior as a terrible thing,but Papi knew I had been stressing out about a lot of other things, and he wanted tolighten my load. Can you tell why I love the man so much?

2. A book edited by my Piano Man andwritten and illustrated by the Little Princess – this present had me intears. I was reading and crying. It was just perfect. I will write a full length review of the text very soon. Right now, I must share abit about the talented writer’s bio: “[The Little Princess] studies writing atPearls Yonkers School.” Her very own charming words, isn’t she adorable?

3. Lavender Felted Soap from Grandma and Papa – I’msure you know I was sniffing and screaming. My first soap of the kind, can’twait to enjoy it!

4. Wand, Lavender and The Green Witch Herbal from Familiar Creations by Mina and her Hubby – thewand is shaped as a helping hand; it touched my heart and lifted my soul in a moment of extreme need. The lavender found itsway to my pillowcase, and the book, well… I’m grinning at it with pure witchy reader’slust. Even the cover looks delicious, yum!

5. A Zombie’s Guide to the Holidays from Zombie Girl Shambling – Youjust can’t have a holiday without zombies. Ask goddess from Sugar and Cyanide,she’ll tell you all about it. Thanks Dana!

6. The Spirit of Flightand a Moon Goddess Journal from Peter Pauper Press –this was one of those unexpected surprises, and it made me smile. I loveJosephine Wall’s art, and adding the visual stimulation to a book and a journalis just brilliant.

7. I would list the holiday cards, books, giftcards, Kindle bucks… but you’ll probably beat me senseless for having to read about it all, so I’ll just say Thanks sooo much to everyone who brightened my Winter Solstice. Youdidn’t have to, and that’s what makes the whole bit so freaking amazing!

Change…

Lyn from the Witch Blog had a great idea, and I’ve joined in thefun, for I like to think that I Can Change ONE Thing (in my life). Instead of resolutions, she has decided to change one little thing at thetime each month. I’m better when I compartmentalize my to dos, what about you? Will you try it?

Staying Off My Broom in 2012…

I was wicked, wicked, wicked during theWinter Solstice week. But there was pie, chocolate, mangoes... and, um... grapefruit! Iknow what you are thinking, Grapefruit, Magaly? Really? Trust me, luvs, after you eat 5 grapefruits inless than a couple of hours, bits of your body start wondering what’s goingon. The rest of my hot witchy me remains wonderful, though. And I enjoyed being off my broom so much that’ll stay that way for 3 more months!

A Spellbinding Gift for You…

Guess what, my Wicked Luvs? Peter Pauper Presswants to spread that giving feeling, and I’m delighted to oblige.

I rarely accept giveaway proposals fromindividuals who don’t actively follow Pagan Culture, but the letter—and thelittle extras—Suzanne Schwalb added to my Creepmas winnings were just too sweetnot to extend to you.

So from them, through me, to you, here is The Little Box of Spells ;-)

This is all you need to do to enter this Spellbindinggiveaway:

Mandatory Entry – VisitPeter Pauper Press, then come back to tell me which of their lovelyproducts you would like to give to a love one, and why you think he or she willlove it. Please take a moment to link your comments.

Extra Entries:

1. Be a Wicked Darling(follow Pagan Culture through GFC)

2. Blog about this entry, andleave a link to the post

3. Tweet about this entry,and leave a link to the tweet

4. Join my Witchy Books Reading Challenge 2012

5. Leave a comment tellingme a bit about the most meaningful gift(s) you received this Winter Solstice.

* This giveaway ends January 5^th at 10:13pm EST.

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Two Halves of a Dragon’s Heart

2011-12-28T10:13:00.018-05:00

Journeysare full of challenges and admissions… the story of me—particularly my heart’sjourney—is no different.

I’ll begin witha quote from The Alchemist by PauloCoelho

“You must understand that love never keeps a man

from pursuing his Personal Legend.

If he abandons that pursuit, it’s because it wasn’ttrue love…

the love that speaks the Language of the World.”

And I’ll finish with the tale that made me fall in love withstories:

Two Halves of One Dragon’s Heart

Ican’t remember how old I was when the wisest Witch I’ve ever met told me thatevery living thing begins existence as a dragon. “A human being,” she said “is atough dragon soul, formed by opposite halves of a perfect heart. So flawlessand so in love is this Dragon’s Heart that the Gods get envious; out ofjealousy, they cut the heart in half before birth and send the pieces inseparate ways.

The human body then becomes fragile. But sometimes—manytimes, actually—a person gets lucky enough to find his or her other half. Whenthe two halves come together, they transform and become a complete Dragon’sHeart: perfect for each other, unbreakable and strong, in love, one.”

Igave my heart to a man many years ago. He gave me his, too. We were happy. Wegot married. We loved and hurt each other… a lot. I ran from the pain that washim. We gave up on each other. At the time, I was pretty sure the other half ofmy dragon had stayed with him.

ThenI met my Piano Man, and I was certain the half of my dragon had never left mysoul… I began to wonder if the Gods in the witchy story didn’t, perhaps, blesshumans with their cutting curse. If the dragon is born whole, the two halvesnever get to choose. But after the severing, the decision of whom we allow tocomplete our Dragon’s Heart becomes ours and ours alone.

IfI’m the everlasting owner of half of my Dragon’s Heart—and I know that Iam—then I claim the right to authorand live my own story. I get to choose the love legend “that speaks the Language of [my]World.” I love that… a lot.

AndI believe that outlook on love is not limited to romantic relationships; atleast not in my case. For it extends to the way I relate to my family, friends,and to my spirituality, too.

Ilove my kin because they deserve it;

not because we share blood.

Ilove my friends because they are amazing;

not because it’s the right thingto do.

Ilove my witchery because it’s part of me;

not because someone says I’ll burnif I don’t.

Ilove my Piano Man because his love made me understand all of the above. And,well, let’s be honest, the man warms bits of my being I had no idea Ipossessed. Yep, I love him because his half of Dragon’s Heart makes my halfwhole, happy and hot.

Idon’t love my Piano Man because he loves me,

but because loving him brings out the best me there is.

Whatabout you my Wicked Darlings, do you believe in one fated love or do you thinkthat the choice lies within the heart of the lover?

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Speak

2011-12-25T10:13:00.006-05:00

Iwas on the phone with a schoolmate, discussing next semester’s schedule, whenshe asked me, “What was your favorite holiday read, this year?”

“Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson,” I answeredright away.

Myschoolmate reminded me that Speak wasnot about holidays, but a book that tells the tale of a girl who experiencesthe worst of atrocities and then can’t talk about it. I pointed out that atsome point in the story the protagonist receives a gift, from her parents, thatleaves her speechless, too. Not because of the present itself, she was just sohappy her parents—whom she believed never paid any attention to her—knew exactlywhat to get her.

Thatwas what I liked most about Speak,and I must say that it is one of my favorite bits about the holidays. It isjust wonderful to see that those I love care about me enough to know what wouldmake me happy. I’ll tell you about the actual gifts, I got this year, in acouple of days. For now, I invite you to read Speak, my Wicked Luvs.

Ialso invite you to congratulate Jonquil. Yep, she won my Skully Winter Solstice Blessings Witchy Tarot giveaway. Congrats, Jonquil! Send me your mailing info,and I’ll forward your gift.

Happy Holidays,my Wicked Darlings.

I pray yourlove ones fill your life with smiles ;-)

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An Unexpected Gift

2011-12-21T10:13:00.026-05:00

“You must’ve gone into one of yourWitchcraft lectures again,” my friend sat next to me in the classroom.

“What are you talking about?” I almostdidn’t ask. My friend had been acting weird lately, and I wanted to avoid longconversations.

“This girl I work with was saying howyou were talking nonsense about Witchcraft being about spirituality, and—”

“Nonsense?”the word tasted nasty in my mouth.

“She was the one who said it; don’tlook at me like that.”

I wanted to ask who, but thought betterabout it. “Guess people have the right to be stupid. I’ve got to go to class.”I stood up.

“She’s in your class, you know?”

That got me more interested than I cared.“Who?”

My friend sighed. “I didn’t want totell you because I know you like her. Remember the Jewish girl you said wasreally smart and sweet; the one in your Magical Realism class?”

“Esther!” I couldn’t hide my surprise.I had, indeed, said Esther was smart and sweet. I enjoyed having a class withher because her critiques of stories were always thoughtful. A week or sobefore, I had mentioned to my friend that I was going to ask Esther if she wasinterested in forming a writing group. “I was not expecting that.”

“I know,” my friend put an arm aroundmy shoulder. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “It’s alright. I don’treally know Esther anyway.”

I didn’t approach Esther about thewriting group or about anything else. Two semesters went by. My friend and I startedbeing not so friendly after she asked me out, and couldn’t understand when I toldher: one, I’m in committed relationship, and two, I’m straight. Then Esther andI ended up in a children’s literature class together, and she wrote “The Witch’sDance” as one of her class assignments. I read the tale, and fell in love withAmelia, Julie and Ms. Pur.

And I realized the person, whom I thoughtto be my friend, had lied to me. It didn’t take long to figure out why. She hadasked me to be her writing partner. I was honest, and said that I didn’t thinkwe made a good writing match. She writes Victorian literature and I’m in lovewith urban fantasy and magical realism. And maybe the whole bit about herwanting to get in my pants might have been a factor, too.

Anyway, after reading “The Witch’s Dance,” I approached Esther and asked her if she would like to guest post atPagan Culture. I told her I had a reason, but she will be finding out thedetails through this post. I wanted to savor my unexpected gift, for a while,and then share it with you, my Wicked Darlings.

Esther’s “The Witch’s Dance” is one ofthose gifts that keeps on giving—cliché, but true. I love knowing that althoughour beliefs are completely different, the fact that she is Jewish and I’m aWitch doesn’t keep us from enjoying the magic of words.

Thanks a million for your witchy tale,Esther, and for allowing me to share this virtual gift with the world. Okay,the world that reads Pagan Culture ;-)

And to you, my Wicked Darling Luvs, read “The Witch’s Dance” and ask Esther a question about her story, for an extra entry on my Skully Winter Solstice Blessings Witchy Tarot Cards giveaway (say that 13 times fast!). Also, visit The Village Witch and tell Sally her Yule Magic Blog Party with a virtual magical gift rocks!! And... follow Reader’s Dialogue, Esther’s blog, for anotherentry. Happy Winter Solstice, my Luvs!!!

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“The Witch’s Dance” – Guest Post by Esther Bernstein

2011-12-20T10:13:00.006-05:00

Julie had a new neighbor. She and herfriend Amelia watched the movers carry large pieces of furniture into the houseacross the street, dark wooden tables and chairs and desks and armoires.

“Everything is so dark,” Julie said.“Who would want black furniture?”

“It’s not black. It’s called cherrywood,” Amelia said wisely. “It’s because the wood is the color of cherries.It’s really a dark red.”

“Ok, but still, who would want to livewith such dark things in the house?”

But before they could see the peoplewho were moving into the house, Amelia had to go home and Julie had to go tobed.

The next day, as Julie left to go toschool, she looked over at the new neighbor’s house and saw the curtains twitchas if someone was looking out the window. But she couldn’t see who was standingthere.

“Did you see them?” Amelia asked inschool.

“No, I couldn’t see them. But thedrapes are black also. Isn’t that weird?”

“Wow, that is weird. First the darkfurniture, now the dark drapes… What’s with these people?”

All day long, Julie and Amelia wonderedabout the new neighbors, and they rushed off the school bus and raced throughtheir homework so they could watch the house across the street. Nothinghappened for a long time. Then, when it was already dark but not yet bedtime,Julie and Amelia saw something happen. All the lights in the house across thestreet went off. And then a glow seeped through the sheer black drapes – aflickering light that danced over the shrubs and tree in the yard.

“That’s candles,” Amelia whispered.“That’s what makes a flickering light like that.”

And then they saw it. Shadows in weirdshapes moved in the flickering light, casting long and twisted shadows on the lawnin front of the house.

“Sh!” said Julie. “Do you hear that?”

Julie and Amelia strained to hear, andwhat they heard was weird sounds coming from the house across the street –high-pitched screeching sounds that ran shivers down their spines. The twogirls stared at each other with wide eyes.

“What is that?” whispered Julie.

“I don’t know!” Amelia whispered back.“But it sounds scary. What are they doing?”

“Girls!”

The girls jumped in fright. But it wasjust Julie’s mom, telling them it was time for Amelia to go home. As she left,Amelia said urgently to Julie, “Make sure you see them tomorrow!”

But again the next morning, all Juliesaw was the drapes moving and a tall figure standing in the window.

And that afternoon, Julie and Ameliasaw the new neighbor. It was a woman, slender and tall, and all dressed inblack – a long black dress, a black shawl, black shoes, a black coat, and awide-brimmed black hat.

“I knew it!” Amelia said. “She’s awitch! She was doing magic yesterday! That’s why she had candles, and that’swhy there was that horrible screeching, and that’s why she was making weirdmotions!”

“But look at her hat,” Julie said.“It’s not pointed!”

“Of course not,” Amelia saidconfidently. “She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s a witch. But you bettermake sure to stay away from her.”

“I will!” Julie said fervently.

And for three weeks, she did. Shelooked over at the house across the street, and she shivered when she saw theflickering lights and the weird shapes and heard the screeching sounds comingfrom the house. But she saw the tall woman only a few times, and she made surethe witch never saw her.

But then one day, as Julie and Ameliawere walking form the bus to Julie’s house, they saw her – the witch was comingout of Julie’s house! They stopped at the gate and watched in horror as Julie’smom stood in the doorway and the witch made her way down the path. She passedby the two girls in the gate, and her lips twitched when she looked atthem. And then she was gone, and Julieand Amelia unfroze and raced into the house.

“What was she doing here?” Juliedemanded.

“She? Ms. Pur was inviting us toher house next weekend for a special party.”

“A party?” yelped Amelia. “In her house?”

“We can’t go!” Julie said urgently.“She’ll – she’ll – ”

“She’ll what?” Julie’s mom asked withan amused smile.

“She’ll chop us up and put us in a potof boiling water!” Amelia said.

Julie’s mom frowned. “Why in the worldwould you think that?”

“She’s a witch, Mom!” Julie said.

“Nonsense. She’s a perfectly ordinarywoman, and we’re going to be friendly neighbors and go to her party.” And shewouldn’t listen to any more arguments.

So next weekend, Julie got dressed inher nice clothes and waited for Amelia to come over – she made Amelia promiseto come so they could get away from the witch together if they had to. Theywalked over with Julie’s mom, and joined all the other neighbors in the yard ofthe house across the street, where tables with trays of treats were set up.

Ms. Pur moved among the neighbors,chatting with them and making sure all the kids got some treats. She wasdressed all in black, as usual, but now she had two bright spots of rouge onher cheeks. Julie and Amelia shrank away when Ms. Pur came to speak to Julie’smom, but Ms. Pur just smiled.

“An evil smile,” Amelia whispered toJulie.

After some time, Ms. Pur invitedeveryone into her house. They all trooped into a room with walls completelycovered by mirrors, with long round bars at waist height.

The sheer black drapes were drawn shut,and the lights were all off, but there were flickering candles set in spots allover the room, reflecting eerily off the mirrored walls so that the lightseemed to permeate the room and beyond.

“You know what that means?” Ameliawhispered to Julie. “It means the witch is going to do some magic now. We’reall doomed!”

Julie shivered and pressed closer toher mom.

Then Ms. Pur stood in front of the roomand everyone got quiet to hear her.

“Thank you all for coming today,” shesaid in a soft, sweet voice.

“That’s not her real voice,” Ameliawhispered. “Wait – soon she’ll cackle and then everyone will see she’s awitch.”

“I invited you here to introduce aspecial program I’d like to set up in this neighborhood.”

Julie could imagine what kind ofprogram it was – one after another, the ideas came to her – boiling snakes andtalking ghosts and the river flooding and –

Ms. Pur glided over to a stereo systemset into the dark wood of the furniture and pressed play. High-pitched soundscame out of it. The sound of violins playing filled the room. Julie looked atAmelia.

“That’s not screeching!” she whispered.“That’s music!”

Amelia looked confused. “I thought itwas the people she was torturing!”

And then Ms. Pur started dancing. Herarms bent, her feet came up, and she whirled across the floor in a gorgeousflow of movement.

“And that’s not weird magic motions!”Julie whispered.

Amelia didn’t answer. She was staringat Ms. Pur in awe.

Ms. Pur glided to a stop and boweddeeply as all the neighbors clapped.

“I used to dance in shows in New York,”Ms. Pur said. “Now I want to teach dance of all styles to anyone who wants tolearn. I’ll have – ”

“Me! Me!” Amelia had pushed her way tothe front of the crowd and was raising her hand and standing on tip-toe. “Iwant to learn how to do that!”

Ms. Pur laughed. “I have my firststudent!”

Julie and Amelia signed up for thechildren’s class while Julie’s mom signed up for the adult class.

One week later, Julie and Amelia stoodwith a group of ten girls and ten boys in Ms. Pur’s studio, gazing in awe atthe mirrors and bars, now in the bright light of fluorescent lights. They weredressed in the black leotards and black slippers that Ms. Pur had instructedthem to buy, and which their mothers had bought online.

Ms. Pur clapped her hands, and all thekids got quiet and turned to her. “Welcome to our first class,” she said inthat soft voice. “We’ll be starting ballroom dancing today, and we’ll work onthat for a while. After that, we’ll move on to some basic ballet, somecontemporary, and,” her eyes twinkled, “we’ll even do some hip-hop. How do youlike that?”

The boys hooted, and the girls laughedand then clapped and cheered. Ms. Pur laughed.

“Let’s get started, then.”

For three months, the group learnedballroom dancing. They practiced swing, the waltz, salsa, and even the tango.And then one day, Ms. Pur called their attention at the end of class.

“Girls and boys, I think you’re ready. It’stime for our first recital.”

So the next week, all the parents came,and Julie and Amelia’s group, along with the other age groups of kids that Ms.Pur taught, performed spectacularly. They danced in a room in Ms. Pur’s house,set up just like a theater with a stage and audience seats – and when thelights dimmed and the candles cast their flickering lights over the stage,everyone felt the magic.

***

“Estheris an English student who focuses on medieval literature—it’s just so magical!Though not Pagan herself, she loves everything ‘witchy’ and is an avid readerand writer of fantasy, especially Young Adult. This is her first publishedwork, and she is proud to have it hosted on Pagan Culture!”

***

Stop by Reader’s Dialogue, my Wicked Darlings, and devourone of Esther’s latest reviews. I’ve taken the liberty of tasting a few, and yum, yum, yum!

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Skully Winter Solstice Blessings

2011-12-18T10:13:00.013-05:00

Receiving blessings when I need them

is much more amazing than being blessed when Iwant to.

Thatwas the song that filled my heart’s ears when I got Shelle’s Winter Skully. I love thesun on her chin, the bright yellow daisies around her eyes, the candles burningin the Yule Log, the snowy trees in the background, Froggy playing with her hollyearrings… I’m enchanted by the whole.

Igot Winter Skully a few days ago. I was feeling gloomy; so much that I woke up at5:13 am—as always—but didn’t type a word for hours. I stared at my screen for awhile, looked at pictures for another while, and cried for J-Man for the longestof all whiles. I was supposed to be writing “Kissing the Witch”… but couldn’t get myselfto do it.

Iopened my email instead, and saw Shelle’s name at the very top. She had sent mePagan Culture’s new banners and buttons, aren’t they precious? Shelle and I hadnot agreed on a day for Winter Skully, but I got the ACEO exactly when I neededa bit of sunshine in my life. Aren’t they lovely?

I believe they are adorably appropriate, indeed...

I also think that the bestblessings are not the ones I plan,

or the ones Itell others I must get;

not even theones I celebrate because of ancient traditions.

To me,

pricelessblessings,

are the onesthat brighten my heart and push away the gloom.

Bright pre-WinterSolstice Blessings, my Wicked Darlings.

And here issomething I hope put a shiny smile on one of your faces:

This is all you need to do to enter this pre-Winter Solstice giveaway:

Mandatory Entry –leave a comment telling me about the last unexpected blessing you received. Include an email address.

Extra Entries:

- Become a Wicked Darling(follow Pagan Culture through GFC)

- Blog about this entry, andleave a link to the post

- Tweet about this entry,and leave a link to the tweet

- Stop by my Blog Circle,and grab a Winter Skully button… or three
- Join my Witchy Books Reading Challenge 2012

- Visit one… or thirteenof AstraeaSapphire’s Yuletide Blessings blog partiers, and come back here to tell mewhat you liked best.

* This giveaway ends December 23^rdat 5:13pm EST.

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Kissing the Witch

2011-12-15T10:13:00.011-05:00

“…liveme in words, Mags.” I’ll tell you about this phrase in just a bit. First let meshare some logistics. Life must go on, right?

Witchy Books Reading Challenge – I will review and add titles to my list as I go, butI’ll publish a collective review post, near the end of every month.

“AreYou Okay” Messages – I want to thank those of you who have emailed or messagedme via Facebook and Twitter to ask if I’m okay. I would love to respond toevery single email right away, but there are a lot ofyou—this makes me giggle between tears because I can be quite the sensitivesilly Witch. Yes, I’m okay. I promise. And I’ll answer your individual emailssoon.

LGBT Reading Challenge 2012 – I’m very excited about this new reading challenge,hosted by Natazzz (isn’t this the coolest nickname ever?). I spent thelast six months studying gay identity in literature, and the experience left mewishing for more.

That is the first reason why I want to read more LGBT books… the second has to dowith the words I quoted above… a friend of mine, a beautiful and loveable youngman, traveled to the Summerlands a couple of weeks ago. No blood relativeshowed to his bedside during his last moments. Only a witchy friend and a goodheartedrabbi held his hands as my friend let go of flesh and embraced spirit.

Icalled his family and told them he was in his last moments. At first, everybodyrefused to go to the hospital. They belong to an orthodox religion that has nolove for the gay man whose blood they share. In the end, the mother and sisterdecided to visit him. They didn’t make it in time.

Thefather told me, “My son died to me and to God when he touched another man in adegenerate way.” To you, sir… to you, sorry excuse for a parent, and evenpoorer pretext for a human being, I say, SHAME on you a 1000 times! I hopeloneliness and guilt suits you. I’m glad J-Man was nothing like you. I willalso tell you that although individuals like you walk around in shells thathouse rotting souls, the child you rejected will never die. He lives in thehearts of the people who loved—and still love—him.

Today,I honor J-Man by sharing and following his last words: “Don’tlet me die, Witch. Don’t let him and his reading of holy words kill me. I know God,my God, my Maker… the One who gave meenough love to share with whoever I chose… I know that God made me right. Don’t let Father trick people into believing I wasn’t here, ‘cause I was. And I loved somuch, didn’t I? I know you’ll live me in words, Mags; live me in words.”

Yes, J-Man, I’lllive you in words and in light…

Kissing the Witch: Old Tales in New Skins was J-Man’s favorite book.

I used to tease him aboutliking the book, say, “You are a lesbian trapped in the soul of a gayman.”

He would go on one of hisEmma Donoghue rants, and tell me, “No, Mags, I’m thebrother of the spinster. I’ve pricked my fake skin with a needle, and let outmy real voice. So come kiss me, Witch.”

He had 1013 ways of citing his favorite, retold, fairy tales. I’ll miss them all…

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Frogs, Daisies and Skull

2011-12-13T10:13:00.014-05:00

I’menchanted by frogs, daisies and skulls. Aren’t these earrings just lovely?

Green Color Emerald Frog Stud Earrings
Sterling Silver Gold Overlay Two Tone Daisy Flower Earrings
Sterling Silver Skull & Crossebone Stud Earrings

Aftersaying that, let me move on to a bit that might make me sound like anungrateful jerk.

Ihave very caring friends. One of them emailed me a few months before I turnedthirty-four, and asked what I wanted for my birthday. “The Mother aspect of myGoddess really needs a Horned God,” I replied.

Afew weeks later I got a package from my friend. I opened it with excitement(and a big knife) and found this:

“Really?”I said. “Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam for a Witch’s altar? Are youfreaking serious!”

Thankgoodness she wasn’t serious. The statue was a gag gift. She wanted to hear whatI would say after I opened the box. I said a lot of things, but that would be adifferent post. My friend made it all better by later sending me this lovelyHorned God.

Hegoes perfect with the Mother, doesn’t he?

Wehave been friends for a long time, so she always knows what to get me. Thetruth is that a person who reads Pagan Culture doesn’t need to know me all thatlong to figure out the kinds of things I like. For instance, I did someghostwriting for an author friend. She has helped me in the past, so I didn’tfeel right charging her for the work. She wanted to give me something anyway,and she made my winter with the practical and super cute pairs of boots Italked about in my “Friday Lavender” post.

Ican’t say the same about some my closest friends and certain family members.They are not the best on the giving the right things department. Last AllHallow’s Eve, I got three copies of Kim Harrison’s Once Dead, Twice Shy; two copies of Llewellyn Witches’ Datebook, anillustrated Christian Bible and some gifts I still have no clue what to dowith—I actually don’t know what they are.

Thisyear, I’ve decided to make my wish list public, in hope that my darling familyand friends will take a look-see when in doubt. I’ve even added things otherthan books to it. Okay, so I revised the list after someone made fun of me forwanting only books. Here are some of the things currently on wish list:

Oracle of Shadow & Light by Jasmine Becket-Griffin
Colorful Drip Candles
Mythologies of the World by Michael McKenzie

Andwhen in doubt, frogs daisies, and skulls are usually a safe bet ;-)

So…how many naked Adams do you think I’ll get this year? And what’s on your winterholidays’ wish list, my Wicked Luvs?

And are you wondering who won Dracula in Love?

The Wicked lucky winner is KimR

Congrats! Please send me your mailing info, and I’ll sent your book ;-)

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Winter Solstice Tree

2011-12-10T00:13:00.024-05:00

Welcometo Pagan Culture’s Yuletide Ball, my Wicked Darlings. I hope you enjoyed yourflight here. Did you remember to wear enough layers to keep your bits warmduring the journey? Of course you did. “According to GrannyWeatherwax, [witchesare] ‘peoplewhat looks up’.

She didn’t explain. She seldom explained. She didn’t meanpeople who looked at the sky; everyone did that. She probably meant that theylooked up above the everyday chores and wondered, What’s all this about? Howdoes it work? And possibly even: Is there anything worn under the kilt? Perhapsthat was why odd, in a witch, was normal…” and every normal person who has readTerry Pratchett’s Wintersmith knows awitchy woman needs no reason to share a few witty words.

Orher unfinished Winter Solstice Tree…

Don't you think the berries and flowers make this holly look sooo pretty?

Thispretty holly was a present from someone who believes in my writing, and who waspretty sure I was going to curse him for taking me to the worst wintergathering in history. I forgave him though, even if one of the guests told me, “Yourshort story was gut-moving [Interesting choice of words, I though] but Ithink it would be much better if the main character didn’t practice an evilreligion; people don’t like that. [Woman,I thought some more, say my Witchcraft isevil again, and I’ll show your gut and teeth some real movement].”

I’mpretty sure the look on my face, while I was thinking those moving words, waswhat convinced my friend he needed to get me something that would assured thefuture fixity of the woman’s teeth. The holly brought pretty thoughts and somesmiles, too.

Andwhile on the subject of uncanny things that go on in my head… Would you like toknow the first thing that came to mind when I joined this party? I thought, This party button really reminds me of thecover of Dracula in Love by Karen Essex. Hm, I guess I’ll give away as a partyfavor. Yep, I will.

This is all you need to do to enter this bloody wintrygiveaway:

Mandatory Entry –leave a comment with your thoughts about this post, and about people whosay/do/show inappropriate things during public gatherings. Include an emailaddress.

Extra Entries:

1. Be a Wicked Darling(follow Pagan Culture through GFC).

2. Blog about this entry, andleave a link to the post.

3. Tweet about this entry,and leave a link to the tweet.

4. Stop by my Blog Circle,and grab a button… or three.

5. Comment on one (or all) ofThe Witches Yuletide Blog party posts; then come back to tell me what you liked,disliked, or absolutely loved about your visit.

* This giveaway ends December 12^that 5:13pm EST.

Andbecause random witchy goodness seems to be the name of the game, please visit Pagan Pages Blog Hop. This cyber treasure hasn’t been around for long, but I’malready harvesting its fruits. Go on, my Wicked Luvs, do a little winterpicking ;-)

Also,guess who still Getting Off Her Broom? Me! I didn’t post last week because I wason partial blogging leave. I was a little sick, too. I’m blaming it on end ofsemester stress and stuff... I only exercised once, for about ten minutesbefore my head nearly exploded. I’ve walked—I live in New York after all—but nocalisthenics. I’m eating well, my weight is healthy, and I’ve been watering myhot self often ;-) *grins and does a little mental dance*

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Reality Loaded Fiction

2011-12-08T00:13:00.026-05:00

“My job is to make things up, and the best way to makethings up is to make them out of real things…” — Terry Pratchett

Someonesaid to me, “It is impossible to write urban fantasy that touches readers atany kind of realistic level. The genre is too wild and fanciful to allow forsignificance.”

Itold him, “I hope life in your icy, boring, little box grows to be less miserableand lonely,” and I walked away glaring.

Mostof you already know how I feel about this kind of close-minded literaryoutlook. I believe every book is a world, and the minds of authors are filledwith different realms, waiting to be explored and enriched by readers’interpretation. If all writers based their worlds in the same reality, thereading universe would be a sad, dreary place.

Itis true that great books are made of real life journeys. That is the reason whyI subscribe to that philosophy. But unforgettable reading experiences are livedin word-worlds were writers share their special—and very personal—kind ofmagic.

Thesethoughts came to mind after I shared the first chapters of my Works in Progress… with a professor and an editor. I’m overjoyed to say that the editor’sreaction was somewhere between a loud reading climax and a vicious “This is notit, right? Give me more, give me, give me, give me!”

Theprofessor, on the other hand, said my tales “Were nothing more than greatideas, corrupted by an imaginative little girl who is depriving an intelligentwoman of her opportunity to ascend to greatness.”

Scarred and Blood Grudge develop in very differentworlds. Scarred is set in place that is exactlylike ours. In Blood Grudge, thethings of myth and imagination come out to play, love, and hurt. And bothnovels-to-be were birthed out of the real womb that is my witchy writer’s mind;a place where my realities, fears, dreams, fantasies, nightmares, hopes… havemerged to create the stories I hope touch differentpeople in very real differentways.

Wintergirls by LaurieHalse Anderson took me into the terrifying reality of young girls livingthrough the nightmares that are eating disorders and cutting. I’m lucky, lucky,lucky, for I’ve never experienced any of the two. And I’m grateful, grateful,grateful, for Laurie’s writing reality touched my heart and made me feel.

Someexpert’s study of body mass index says that according to my height, my idealweight should be 117 lbs. Well, here is what I have to say to the expert:

123.5 lbs.

And lovingevery ounce of it

Heavy with thick“unexpected laugh[s]”

And lovingthat, too

Care to share fictional titles that have touched your souls, my Wicked Luvs?

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Witchy Books Reading Challenge 2012

2011-12-06T00:13:00.227-05:00

Click HERE to share your January Readings

Welcome to Pagan Culture’sfirst witchy reading challenge. I want this bit of bookish yumminess to be magical, diverse and fun, so joining isreally easy:

* Add the challenge button to your sidebar, or place it wherever you keepyour blog buttons.

* Write a post letting everybody know about the challenge.

* Leave a comment on this post; include the direct link to your announcement.

* At the bottom of your post, add the witchy books youread in 2012, from January 13^th to December 13^th. You can choose to do this as you go.

* Reviews are optional, but I would LOVE to read your bookish thoughts.

Witchy ReadingLevels:

ElementalReader – 4 books

BookishDarling – 13 books

LunarBooklover – 28 books

WitchyBibliophile – 35+ books

* You can join the fun at any time.

* Create your list in advance, as yougo, or whenever you like.

* All formats are fine; all genres aregreat...

* Fiction, nonfiction, graphic novels,manga, comic books…

* I’m an Eclectic Witch, so of course Iwelcome books from other challenges.

* Don’t have a blog? Create a liston Goodreads, Facebook…

* What’s a Witchy Book? Well,anything with witches in it, my Wicked Luvs!

1. Witchy Books – Witchy Bibliophile, 35+ books

I’ve joined not1, not 2, not 3, but 12 reading challenges for 2012.
Yep, 12 challenges plus my own, which makes 13. I freaking LOVE books!

2. Horror and Urban Fantasy – 35+ books

3. Daring You to Read… 13 books

4. LGBT Reading Challenge – 5+ books for change and for J-Man

5. Fantasy – Witchy Sister Grimm. I just made up this title; cool, huh? 35+ books

6. Zombies – Three Chomps, 13+ books

7. Dystopia – Asocial (I’ll probably read 5+ books, but I like this title ;-)

8. Audio Book – Going Steady Lover, 13+ books

9. Outdo Yourself – I’m on Fire! 13+ (witchy) books

10. 2012 Pagan Reading Challenge – Elder Witchy Goddess, 35+ books

11. 2012 Witches and Witchcraft Reading Challenge – Maiden 13+ books

12. 2012 Paranormal Reading Challenge – 13+ novels

13. Projecto Lectura 8 Inanna 2012 – Bruja de Luz y Tinieblas,13+ books

*Reading Challenge Addict*

In Flight, 13 challenges

Yes, I have a problem; isn’t it wonderful! Now I can get together with all my reading challenge addict friends, and talk about how much we’ll never change ;-)

My (ever-changing) 2012 To-Be-Read List

1 for Witchy Books, 2 for Horror and Urban Fantasy, 3 for Daring You to Read…,

4 for LGBT Reading Challenge, 5 for Fantasy, 6 for Zombies, 7 for Dystopia,

8 for Audio Book, 9 for Outdo Yourself, 10 for 2012 Pagan Reading Challenge,
11 2012 Witches & Witchcraft Reading Challenge,
12 2012 Paranormal Reading Challenge, 13 Projecto Lecture 8 Inanna
Bold titles have been read

31 Nights of Halloween by Diandra Linnemann and others
206 Bones by Kathy Reichs
A Perfect Blood by Kim Harrison
A Reckless Witch by Debora Geary, 1, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12
A Zombie's Guide to the Holidays: It's a Wonderful Afterlife!by Rich Cullen
An Essay on Man and Satires by Alexander Allan Poe
Across the Universe by Beth Revis
Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman
Android Karenina by Ben Winters and Leo Tolstoy
Angelic by Kelley Armstrong
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, 9, 13
Any on My Mind by Nancy Garden
Ash by Malinda Lo
The Atlantic Complexby Eoin Colfer
Beka Cooper: Terrier by Tamora Pierce
Beka Cooper: Bloodhound by Tamora Pierce
Beka Cooper: Mastiff by Tamora Pierce
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Breathers: A Zombie's Lament by S. G. Browne
The Bromeliad: Truckers by Terry Pratchett, 1, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12
The Bromeliad: Diggers by Terry Pratchett
The Bromeliad: Wings by Terry Pratchett
The Caldecott Chronicles by R.G. Bullet
Carrie by Stephen King
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins, 5, 7, 8, 9
Circle of Magic: Sandry's Book by Tamora Pierce
Circle of Magic: Tris's Book by Tamora Pierce
Circle of Magic: Daja's Book by Tamora Pierce
Circle of Magic: Briar's Book by Tamora Pierce
Cuentos eróticos by Chaucer-Zweig Zweig-Petronio
Cumbres borrascosas by Emily Brontë
David Copperfield (Spanish Edition) by Charles Dickens
Dead People in Love by Edie Ramer
Dearly, Departed: A Zombie Novel by Lia Habel
Devil Bones by Kathy Reichs
The Enchantress by Michael Scott
Explosive Eighteen by Janet Evanovich
Firestarter by Stephen King
Fledgling Witch by Karen Nilsen, 1, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12
La fortaleza digital by Dan Brown
Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen, 1, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen
Grandes esperanzas by Charles Dickens
Graveminder by Melissa Marr
The Green Witch Herbal by Barbara Griggs
Hearts, Keys and Puppetry by Neil Gaiman
Hexed by Ilona Andrews
Historia de dos ciudades by Charles Dickens
Igraine the Braveby Cornelia Funke
Incantation by Alice Huffman
Interworld by Neil Gaiman
Iron Druid Chronicles: Hexed by Kevin Hearne, 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12
Iron Druid Chronicles: Hammered by Kevin Hearne, 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12
El jorobado de Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
Landing by Emma Donoghue
Legado 1: Eragon by Christopher Paolini
Legado 2: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
M Is for Magic by Neil Gaiman
La máquina del tiempo by H. G. Wells
María by Jorge Issacs
Married with Zombies by Jesse Petersen
Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins, 5, 7, 8, 9
Monster High by Lisi Harrison
Monster High: The Ghoul Next Door by Lisi Harrison
Monster High: Where There's a Wolf, There's a Way by Lisi Harrison
Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman
On Cats by Doris Lessing, 9
One Grave at a Time by Jeaniene Frost
The Peach Keeper by Sarah Addison Allen
The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell
Pride Prejudice and Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls by Steve Hockensmith, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Dreadfully Ever After by Steve Hockensmith, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12
El principe y el mendigo by Mark Twain
Reckless by Cornelia Funke
Seizure by Kathy Reichs
Side Jobs by Jim Butcher, 1, 2, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12
This Side of the Grave by Jeaniene Frost
Spirit of Flight by Rene J. Smith, 1, 9
Strange Candy Laurell K. Hamilton, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12
Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen
The Strain: The Fall by Guillermo del Toro, 2, 5, 9, 12
The Strain: The Night Eternal by Guillermo del Toro
Snuff by Terry Pratchett
Tales from the Crypt 1: Ghouls Gone Wild by Don McGregor
Tales from the Crypt 2: Can You Fear Me Now? by Neil Kleid
Tales from the Crypt 3: Zombielicious by Mort Todd
Tales from the Crypt 4: Crypt-Keeping It Real by Fred Van Lante
Tales from the Crypt 5: Yabba Dabba Voodoo by Fred Van Lante
Tales from the Crypt 6: You Tomb by Fred Van Lante
Tales from the Crypt7: Something Wicca this Way Comes by John L. Lansdale
The Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke
The Time Paradox by Eoin Colfer
The Unfinished Song: Root by Tara Maya
The Unfinished Song: Wing by Tara Maya
Unstable Environment by Marcia Colette, 2, 5, 9, 12
Waking the Witch by Kelley Armstrong
The Warlock by Michael Scott
Wicked: Witch by Nancy Holder
Wicked: Curse by Nancy Holder
Wicked: Legacyby Nancy Holder
Witch & Wizard by James Patterson and Ned Rust
Witch & Wizard: The Gift by Gabrielle Charbonnet and James Patterson
The Witch of the Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare, 1, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
The Witch's Boy by Michael Gruber
Winter Solstice by Eden Bradley
The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike, 1, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Readon, my Luvs, Read on!
And while on the subject of sexy, dark and bloody reading yumminess...
guess who won Pagan Culture’s 513^thpost giveaway?
Salem Witch Child
Congrats, my Wicked Darling!
Send me your mailing info, and I’ll send you Retribution
magalyguerrero @ live . com

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Pagan Culture’s 513th Post Giveaway

2011-12-01T00:13:00.021-05:00

AnEnglish cleric with a questionable appetite for gambling, and who perhapsenjoyed copying other people’s stuff, said, “Imitation is thesincerest [form] of flattery.” I don’t knowhow much one should trust a man with Charles Caleb Colton’s record, but hey,it’s a good quote, so I’m using it.

Why?Because I wish to respectfully borrow part of Oma Linda’s idea, and celebrate Pagan Culture’s 513^th post with a giveaway. The celebration will last 7days, and then a lucky Wicked Darling will win a copy of Retribution, Sherrilyn Kenyon’s latestDark-Hunter novel.

Thisis a very simple giveaway. And guess what? You can enter seven times; onceevery day. Here is how:

Leavea comment telling me reasons why you read Pagan Culture. Use a post published before October 1^st, 2011, to support your claim. Example: I enjoy reading Pagan Culture because postslike Doing It Twice or More remind me that I’m not the only person who isalways thinking about sex, reading, writing, blogging…” You can do this five different times, on five different days, with five different posts.

*This giveaway ends December 5^that 5:13pm EST.

**On a different note… I’m taking a week or so off. It’s the end of the semester, which means that my scholarly witchy self is busy and then some. But I’ve given you a bunch of reading, too, haven’t I? I would hate for you to feel left out, my Wicked Luvs ;-)

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The Roots of Pagan Culture

2011-11-28T00:13:00.011-05:00

Salem Witch Child quoted The Friz to say, “Take chances, make mistakes,and get messy.”Well, I took a chance, made a few mistakes and, yep, things got a little messy.And now I want to fix everything.

I’mtalking about my Pre-All Hallow’s Eve Blog Cleansing. Remember how I wassupposed to revise all my blog entries and test all my links? My self-imposeddeadline was October 31^st. It’s the end of November, and I’m notfinished. It was more work than I thought it would be. However, I still want tocomplete the task. I want to read—from my own words—how my witchy life has changedin the last two years. And I want to understand how Pagan Culture has contributedto any kind of transformation.

Theseupcoming months I’ll reread, reminisce and revise. There have been many changesin my witchy life: I’m sharing a home with my Piano Man and the Little Princess, I have a better idea of what I want to do with my writing, Iunderstand my spirituality in ways I didn’t even suspect I ever could.

I’malso revising Pagan Culture for consistency. Not evenness of thought, whichhasn’t changed all that much, but uniformity of language. Don’t rush to tell mehow proud you are of my organizational skills, my Wicked Darlings. The truth isthat I’m not doing this to make the blog look good, even if that prospect makesme smile a bit. I’m reviewing the language because I want to see how my writinghas changed—and I hope—improved.

Iwill begin with the pages, move to my short fiction, and spend as long as ittakes revising every post, in publication order. I’m excited and curious aboutwhat I might find when I travel back to the roots of Pagan Culture. And Ipromise to share any interesting bits I might find during the process.

Doyou read your old posts? Maybe go back to your old journals? If yes, what hasthis practice done for you?

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Eating It Up

2011-11-26T00:13:00.039-05:00

Someoneonce told me that eating a whole pineapple would leave a person’s tongue raw. Thatisn’t tree. I’ve devoured many delicious whole pineapples; and ten oranges; andfive to ten mangoes depending on their sizes. I’ve enjoyed two pounds of broccoli,and if you get me olive oil, vinegar, mashed strawberries, crushed cashew nutsand a dash of Romano cheese, I will happily eat a serving of lettuce the sizeof my head, times two.

Ican also eat half a pound of cake and a quart of dulce de leche ice cream,covered in an indecent amount of chocolate flavored Hershey’s Shell. Oh yeah,and I’ve been known to down a loaf of Italian bread. Yum!

Ilove food. And I’m a lucky eater. How do I get lucky with my food, you may ask?Well, I rarely binge on cake, ice cream or bread; fruits and vegetables are thethings I love most. So my body doesn’t get too upset, or um… plump, when I go intoone of my eating sprees.

TheGet Off Your Broom Week 8 mini-challenge asked, “How clean is your diet?” I thinkmy eating is balanced in a way that works for me. I need to stay on top of my waterdrinking habits, but aside from that I eat pretty well.

Onthe exercise department, I need to report that I did my Daily Thirteen routinethree times this week, and I walked a few miles. The next two weeks will be alittle slow because of the end of the school semester. I have many deadlines, butthat’s okay.

Whatabout you, my Wicked Darlings? How clean is your diet? And if you celebrateThanksgiving, this week don’t count ;-)

Andlet me share my latest gift from my Piano Man. No, my lover didn’t give me the sky, but he gotmy face out of a book, said, “Look at this, baby” and I was blessed with this amazing peachy pink sunset over our bit of New York.

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Autumn Blessings

2011-11-25T00:13:00.079-05:00

Say hello to the Autumn Tree my Piano Man and I put together. Isn’t it lovely?

Our Autumn tree. The three leaves, still on the tree, represent the members of our family.

On the left is iron man (sculpted by Grandpa). He is supposed to represent my Piano Man.
In the middle is the Little Princess because "Well, she has wings and she's very pretty."
On the right "Is the mom because she's wearing a skirt, and has a heart, and she likes daisies."
Wondering who said the quoted words?

The Little Princess distributing napkins and silverware. She had to stop to adjust her crown.
Notice the Native American girl the Little Princess created for school, and the turkey on the wall.
Oh, and the Little Princess let my Piano Man use her placemat ;-) Pink goes well with him lol

This elaborate railroad system is the work of the Little Princess.
My Piano Man helped with one intersection.

Here are the passengers, in case you didn't notice: a witch, two Korean children, and a spider.

And because this is a family post, I couldn't forget about Spike. Ignore his angry gill.
He is just mad at the flash. Yes, only one gill, the other one never comes out to fight.

Piano Man screaming "I'm awesome!" and he is. Especially when wearing green and brown. Yum!
The Little Princess absolutely pinkalicious with her black and pink stockings, and her bunny ears.

Are you having a lovely weekend, my Wicked Darlings?

My Piano Man and I are doing great, but we miss the Little Princess.

She is out of town with her mom,

most likely getting spoiled rotten by her maternal grandma as is should be ;-)

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