Inside My Mind

For dreams without action, lead to chilling nightmares.

Samhain's spirit, strong and bright, Guides us through the darkest night

Air can be described as seductive, inviting, and alluring. It whispers promises of adventure and freedom with every breath. It caresses the skin with its cool embrace, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Inhaling deeply, one can almost taste the purity and vitality that it holds. The sound of air is like a symphony of nature, singing a song of beauty and grace. It is the very essence of life, and to hear it is to be truly alive.

Happiness is like a spider slowly crawling into your brain, weaving a web of contentment that suffocates any negative thoughts. It wraps its silky threads around your heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until all that remains is a numb bliss. It's a warm embrace that slowly turns into a chokehold, never letting go.

Dust particles dance in the air, swirling and twisting like ghostly apparitions in the dim light. They settle on surfaces like a shroud, covering everything in a thin layer of decay. The musty smell of age and neglect permeates the room, making your skin crawl with the feeling of something ancient and malevolent lurking just out of sight. Each breath you take is filled with the taste of decay, making you feel as if you are inhaling the very essence of death. The dust seems to come alive in the shadows, shifting and moving with a mind of its own, as if it is waiting for the right moment to strike. You can't shake the feeling that the dust is watching you, waiting for you to drop your guard so it can consume you.

Butterflies with their delicate wings, fluttering gracefully through the air, may seem innocent and harmless. But beneath their beautiful exterior lies a sinister secret. Their long proboscis, used for sipping nectar, can also be used to pierce the skin of unsuspecting victims, sucking their blood like a vampire. Their larvae, or caterpillars, devour leaves and flowers with a voracious appetite, leaving destruction in their wake. And when they finally emerge from their cocoons, they do so not as innocent, fragile creatures, but as predators ready to continue their cycle of death and destruction. Beware the butterfly, for it is not as innocent as it seems.

A turtle shuffles slowly across the moss-covered forest floor, its ancient eyes glinting in the dim light filtering through the twisted branches overhead. Its shell, encrusted with years of grime and debris, seems almost to blend into the surrounding undergrowth, as if the creature has become one with the earth. But as it turns its head, you can see the hint of something sinister in its gaze, as if it knows secrets that should never be revealed. The way it moves almost seems to be stalking. It's as if it's waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I have a terrible stutter. Sometimes so bad I can not get out a single word. Reading aloud is therapeutic. I think it helps. This recording is a short story I am calling "24 Carat Diamond"

My body is absorbed and broken down. The void crawls back into the box and closes the lid. The box sits on the floor of the empty room. It was as if no one was ever there. The number 25 etched in the center of the black diamond.

This was a large devil trap coaster I made for my little brother. We're both fans of supernatural.