May her Memory be a Blessing

I’m not going to pretend to know much about RBG. I vaguely knew her as an American judge who was badass and defended our rights. But now, I have a feeling similar to the night of the 2016 election. Something ‘bad’ has happened, and it’s going to affect many lives. Especially the LGBT, especially the minorities.

I ask that you mourn with us the death of a champion of LGBT rights, a brilliant woman who was also a Jew. Please respect her religious beliefs and don’t say ‘RIP’ or similar religious statements. Comfort each other, and keep up the fight for our rights. Vote, get out there and do your part. May her memory be a blessing. ❤

Killing Characters and Grieving (spoilers?)

Maybe this is dumb. But I’ve had a rough day, struggling to keep my head above water, and then – BAM! a character up and dies. Whoosh!

What was a dramatic and happy scene took a morbid turn, and (I don’t want to spoil it for anyone) let’s just say I am now minus some very loved characters that I did not expect to go without.

As a lgbt+ person, I think I feel more when a character of lgbt+ stripes dies. I… just wish everyone could live happily forever after. And though I know death is a part of life, it hits me harder in stories than in real life.

I don’t know why. I don’t really understand it. I was told of the suicide of someone I knew, and it felt very – ah? Oh well. I knew it was sad, but I didn’t feel sad. I felt a sense of respect towards them, for their choice, and felt that they had crossed through the veil. That was all.

But when a character dies? Oh my. I mourn. As I have told y’all, the last time one of my characters died, I took three days to recover. Now, I’m seriously hoping it won’t be that long this time. I already feel like a train wreck, was already anxious, and now? I feel upset in an unwordable way. I feel distressed, disturbed, like something is wrong with my world. All this because a fictional character died – in a world of my own creation.

I really don’t understand why my character deaths bother me so much. Is it because something is over? Is it the end of some part of me? Or what? I truly don’t understand, and would appreciate some insight, if anyone has any. I know other authors get upset over their characters, but this feels like … a notch or three higher. Like, it’s worse than when someone I know dies. It’s so strange, and I can’t explain it and don’t understand it.

Anyways, everything is alright in my life. I’m almost done this novel, and am (as usual) debating what to do with it. I’ve been scolded recently by loved ones because I’m apparently ‘sitting on a gold mine’ by not getting myself traditionally published. They seem to think I really should, but – the fact is that I really struggle to get paperwork and stuff done. I’m in the throes of some right now and it’s not pretty. I’m barely getting it done. I really don’t feel like I could manage to stay on top of a publisher’s demands. The thing is, I know that self publishing can work, and make more money than traditional publishing. But… am I doing it right? Agh. I – just wish I could settle my mind and know that I’m doing the right thing.

As you can see, I’m a bit upset today. A bit off kilter. I just want to do what’s right for me and be successful so I can care for my loved ones but I feel like such a failure. At least I’ll be making a little bit of money – if I can get students to take my course, which I’m doubting anyone will sign up for.

Anyways, I’m going to go and rest. Maybe paint or draw. I wish you all well, and hope you all have a lovely day/evening. Much love ❤

Grieving the Deaths in Nova Scotia as a Pagan

I feel mentally bulldozed in a strange way. For those who haven’t heard the news, us Canadians have just had a major shooting. The last one of this magnitude was a shooting aimed just against women at the Polytechnique school.

It’s one thing to hear of atrocities happening all over the world, and its always stranger when it’s closer to home. Furthermore, I’d like to point out to any American reader that shootings barely ever happen in Canada. When they do, they’re a big fucking deal. We mourn them seriously.

Anyways, this news leaves me feeling strangely – distant? Dissociated? Upset without really knowing why? Part of me has a knee-jerk reaction of ‘Oh, just another shooting in the world’, while the rest of me is very shocked and upset that this happened in my country. That innocent people were killed.

I’m majorly left wondering what to do with myself. Is it appropriate to sit down and write and just ignore the fact that we’ve had a mass murder? Is it appropriate to let this take over my life, when there are so many other deaths in the world?

Balance is key, I suppose, but I am no expert. I’ve heard there is going  to be a national vigil online sometime this Friday (I think). But, again, what would be appropriate to do? What is sensible, in a way caring for yourself without letting the grief take over, as well as honoring the dead of these senseless acts?

I would like to suggest, as a pagan and a polytheist, some ideas for self care and to care for the dead of this massacre.

  • Write a letter to your favorite deity, or a deity who specializes in helping the dead pass on (a psychopomp such as Anubis or Saint Michael), asking them to care for the dead and help them find peace after such horrific ends. Burn the letter to transmit it to your deity/spirit of choice.
  • Pray to an appropriate deity (Sekhmet? Bast? Ma’at? I’m not quite sure who would be in charge of purifying a soul. Perhaps a Buddhist tradition would have more specific deities for such a purpose.) for the spirit of the attacker to be purified so as to cause no further trouble as a spirit. You can see this as fire burning away the evil in their heart or the anger that may have caused them to commit such actions.
  • Light a candle with the intent of it lighting a way/ opening a channel for the dead to find their way. Again, you may consult or ask the aid of a psychopomp for aid in this.
  • Write a letter to the deceased in this tragedy and burn it for it to reach them. Offer them your help (within your own limits) and maybe even invite them to a small ritual with candles and a dumb supper. This could be a nice chance to let them talk to you, pour their grief out, and basically process their own death with you.

Remember to take care of yourself! Cleanse and purify your space with incense that gives off a solemn vibe (but nothing too cheerful). Acknowledge your grief, but set the intent that you will carry on in honor of them, not despite them.

If you do have any specific mourning practices in your tradition that you will be performing  to honor these deceased, I’d love to hear them!


candlelight candles
Photo by Irina Anastasiu on

“Just More Chaos”; Chapter Seven, Part ???

Or was he? Instead of reappearing in the ‘landing pad’ room, I found myself waking up as if from a deep sleep – to watch my own burial.

It was dawn and a shallow grave had been dug in Bella’s backyard. My body was dumped face-down in the dirt and was now getting shovelfuls of mud thrown onto it. Bella wasn’t even there. She was upstairs combing her hair, as I could clearly see through the window.

“Wow that’s quite the view,” Conan said cheerfully as mud spattered onto the back of my body’s head. “You can even see the stake sticking out of your back!”

“Why are we doing this?” I asked as snarkily as one could while being in someone’s spiritual pocket. It came out sounding drowsy and sleepy. I was comfy, okay?

“We’re waiting,” Conan said happily, fluffing out his feathers and snuggling down into himself.

At that, I tried to rouse myself. Yes! It was dawn! Something must be happening! “What?” I asked peppily. Anything to distract myself from my own burial… “What are we waiting for?”

“For you to get the point!” and he cackled at his own joke.

“Oh very fucking funny,” I snarled. I tried to stretch and push him around but nope- no getting out of my cozy little pocket.

A crow fluttered down from a nearby tree and perched beside us. “Hey, what’s the occasion?” it asked in a caw.

“Some idiot got staked. The eyes are still there, if you can get to them,” Conan said happily.

My eyes!

“Eh,” the crow shrugged and ruffled itself. “Maybe once the dogs dig it up.”

“Or the werewolves,” Conan chirped in.

Are you fucking done?! I wanted to scream. That’s me they’re burying! Stop making fun! It’s not funny! Stop it!

The crow cocked its head to the side. “Do I hear someone?” it asked.

“I got one them in my pocket,” Conan said, as if that explained everything. The other crow cocked its head, but seemed to get the point.

“Unlike you!” Conan thought loudly, somehow prodding at me. “You got the point yet?”

“What point?” I shrieked, flailing around and throwing as big of a temper tantrum as I could.

“That you were being used like a,” Conan paused for effect, or to find his words.

“Yeah, yeah! I got the point!” I snapped. “Get over it!”

“Oh but did you?” and Conan, chirping a quick ‘bye’ to the bird, took off. He flew up to Bella’s window and perched on the sill. There, he stuck an eye almost into the glass, peering in. “Look at how miserable she is! Ooooh, take a good look at that!”

Bella was smirking, sitting in her chair and generally staring into space as she fiddled with her fingers.

“She’s so miserable!” chirped Conan. “She’s mourning you so bad! Grief knows no bounds!”

“Oh shut up!” I shrieked, because it did hurt. Bella just looked so happy.

“That’s because she is happy! She got rid of you, and the fact you went back to her shows her that she’s got an eternal grip on you – she won. You were her eternal lapdog.”

I wanted to cry, but no tears would come. “I was going to kill her,” I mumbled in my defense.

“She probably sensed that. That’s why she tried to kill you first.”

“Am I that predictable?” I whined miserably.

“Oh yes you are,” Conan said. “You throw a tantrum, go beat things up, and usually retreat to Bella. Did I get it right?”

I made an unhappy sound. But I was too cozy to really sound more than like a grumpy cat. I snuggled down into this pocket, drowsy and wanting to be left alone.

“You’ve got some choices to make,” Conan was saying as he hopped off the ledge and onto the nearby gutter. He pecked at some snow, then spat it out.

“Bla, bla, bla,” I thought grouchily. “Leave me alone. I’m dead.”

“Well, yes, you are,” he chirped as he hopped along the roof. “But that leaves you with several options, thanks to me.”

“Uh huh,” I tried to sleep but it wasn’t working.

“I’m a passageway for those I kill,” he announced. “I can-”

“You’ve killed people?” I was in shock. His perfect know-it-all perfection had killed things?

“It’s a long story,” he said unhappily. “But yes. And I can transfer their souls to another place. A galaxy where they start over. So that’s one option.”

“What happens in this galaxy?” I asked hopefully. After all, it didn’t seem like I had a good chance at getting into the Pure Lands right now.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “It’s just where I send people. I’ve never been there.”

I paused. “Okay, that’s – creepy. You got a better option?”

He ruffled his feathers and looked pompously up into the sky. “I can release you, and you, as a spirit that died, get taken into the Source to be… reconstructed. It seems to be that was where your soul was going before I put you under my wing.”

“Am I under your wing?” I asked.

“Oh hush,” he sighed. “Then we have a third option.”

“Go on,” I said grumpily. Figures, he’d stick me in his armpit.

Conan hesitated. “I eat you.”

“You WHAT?” I yelped, suddenly not so drowsy and cozy anymore.

“Hey, calm down, I’m offering, it’s not like I’m a rabid cannibal with no self control.”

“No, you’re a civilized cannibal?”

Conan paused. “I’m not sure I count as a cannibal. You see, I’m a crow Chaos. In my realm, that comes with certain powers. To travel the realms, and to ingest souls. To take them and bond them into yourself. I’ve done this multiple times, and, really, it’s what saved me from Bella. You see, I’m not one soul with only three pieces. I’m a soul with many, many, pieces. And Bella can only control one piece at a time, so I was relatively free in her grasp.”

“You’re, a soul-eater?” I would be a guppy if I had a shape right then.

“I’m just a crow with a lot of power,” he said with a creaky sigh. “Now you’ve got to make up your mind. What do you want to do?”

“Well I certainly don’t want to get Eaten!” I fairly yelled. He rattled his head as if I was loud. “What are you doing with me anyways? Why don’t you just let me go?”

“That will release you into the Source. Is that what you want?”

“No!” I snapped. Somehow, I didn’t feel like being de-constructed. I had a life, I had things to fix. I’d screwed up but… what other choice was there?

“I can send you to the galaxy,” he offered.

I snorted. “Galaxy of what? You don’t even know what is there!”

“True,” he cocked his head to the side. “But it’s where I feel compelled to send souls-”

“So why didn’t you send me there?” I snapped, thinking I had found a loophole in his story. Hah!

“Because,” he said calmly. “I want to eat you. Ingest you. Absorb you.”

I screamed wordlessly. Trust the cute guy to be a maniac!

Conan chuckled, ruffling his feathers against a cold breeze. “So what’ll it be?”

I moped. I tried to change the topic. “Is that it? The reason you were flirting with me? You were like ‘mmm, I wanna eat that’?”

Conan laughed. “No. I like you.”

“Why?” I snapped.

“Beats me,” and he sighed again. “Look it’s getting cold. Make up your mind.”

I groaned, then whined pathetically. “I don’t want to. Can’t we-” but my mind was made up. I had three options, and I hated all of them. But only one really gave me a chance to fix what I’d screwed up.

I wailed wordlessly, but I knew he’d heard my decision. “Fine! Eat me!”

Conan chuckled. “With pleasure,” he said softly.

“My Name is Chaos”; Chapter Eleven

Oh my goodness everyone! This was such an intense ending/not ending to write! So intense! Total trigger warning here for suicide/character death, just because I don’t want to make anyone upset. Grief as well.

Is this the ending of the story? Is it not? I’m not sure. I think I’m going to take a small break from this story and rest up a bit. I’m very pleased with what I’ve written so far, but would like to work on editing another story in the meantime. If everything goes as planned (but when does it) what I have posted here so far will be part one of Chaos’ story, and then I will write parts two and three later. Hopefully. But so far I’ve written out all that I’ve planned so heh, we’ll see if there is any more to be written.

Anyways, I really would love feedback! What I’d love to hear about is: How did you find Chaos has progressed/grown up at all during this part of the story? For crying out loud, what do y’all think of Bella? No one has commented on Bella yet and it’s driving me a little nuts haha, I want to know how she came across! Finally, what would you like to see/what do you predict for the next part of the story? Will Chaos heal? Will Bella return? And who the hell is Bella anyways? Tell me all your thoughts!!!


There was a crackle and hiss that was heard on the air. It was soothing, a black mist that arrived in curls and tendrils. Bella’s face burst into a grin.

Then, in a twitch of the darkness, the grim reaper was there beside Thunderbird, all black robes, skull, and scythe.

“Hello,” he said in that gentle tone. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Your kids a mortal and I’ll blow her friggin’ head off if I don’t get my third portal. Fair?”

Dad clasped his bony hands before himself, scythe crooked in an elbow. “Now what would you need a third portal for? You already have two right here, perfectly good ones-”

“I want – a third!” Bella yelled. “And you – of all people – you know what it’s for! Complete, the triad!”

Triad? I looked at dad but uh, well, skulls are expressionless. He cocked his head to the side though, which usually meant he was thinking.

“Triad?” he said calmly. “Well I do not understand. A third portal would only be a repetition. That doesn’t make anything special.”

Bella sort of gasped, sort of laughed, then licked her lips. Her chest was heaving for air and she was sweating in the cold. She didn’t even have a coat on, I realized. “Give me, the portal, to Nirvana,” she said, dangerously low and not screaming.

Oh, shit, everyone thought at the same time. You could see it on Thunderbird’s face. In the way father’s bone hands tensed. But his voice was gentle as he spoke again.

“Nirvana? Neither here nor there? Dear, you won’t be able to get in. It’s only for the awakened or those whom Amitabha accepts. Even if I make you the portal, I can’t force your way into there.”

Awakened? Was that the same ‘awakening’ that Bella had been talking about? Oh crap, oh crap.

It was all piecing horribly together into my head. Bella had never intended to create a utopia. She was going to break her way into one, by force. She was going into the Pure Lands with her army to steal the buddha’s throne.

Or something like that.

“Oh trust me, I’m quite sure,”


Everyone jumped. Bella stumbled two steps forward. The hand that was holding the gun to my head dropped, the gun landing in the snow.

Blood spread too quickly over Bella’s chest. Her eyes were huge, her breath wheezing now as she clutched at the giant bullet hole beside her heart.

Before I knew it my arms were around her. “Bella? Bella!”

From the corner of my eye I saw humans, army, walking into the parking lot.

Dad was before her now, crouching down. He was murmuring gently and I knew he was preparing to accept her soul once he finished his recitation.

“No,” I whispered. In a rush, I didn’t want Bella taken from me. Where would they take her? What would they do to her?

Bella’s head rolled to my shoulder, her blue eye sparkling at me. Her mouth moved, and I felt the words within me.

She loved me, she wanted to hold me in her arms, she was sorry. It rushed up like a white cloud within me, filling me with her.

Then she lifted her gun and pulled the trigger, without even closing her eyes.

Bam. Blood spattered all over me.

I was screaming, kneeling in the snow. Bella was in my arms, limp and self-destroyed. I cradled her against me, shaking her gently. I wanted her back, I just wanted her back.

The white feeling of love had vanished when she’d pulled the trigger. Now I missed her like a gaping hole within myself, a bloody, torn hole filled with barbs that stung every time I moved.

Cradling over Bella, I found myself rocking back and forth. I wasn’t sure what else was happening. The screaming had stopped and now I was shaking with sobs. People were around me but I didn’t care.

My arm was being shaken. “Chaos, Chaos, Darling?”

I didn’t so much look up as I knew that was my mother. When had she gotten here? Time was shifting around me and I was flashing in and out of it.

The next thing I knew, Bella was being pried from my hands by several warriors. Bone hands held me as I grappled to keep Bella with me. “No, no!” I screamed again.

Her body was laid in the snow, at the feet of a fox-faced commander with a grin on. “We’ll keep this, you can keep that,” she said, gesturing at me.

I grappled one last time. Bella’s eyepatch came off into my hands. Then she slipped away for good.

It was just another rip inside of me. Another gaping plunge of her being gone. I was lifted to my feet and turned away, but I wasn’t walking. I couldn’t. My legs were giving way but I was being carried by my shoulders by so many hands. The portal to the sky was approaching. I supposed they wanted to take me anywhere away from here – but I didn’t want to go.

I managed to twist around. At first I didn’t see Bella anymore. There was just a cluster of humans, and a large white bag they were lifting onto a stretcher. Leo was there, speaking with FoxFace.

We passed through the portal, and the world swirled – but it was too much. I slipped into darkness.


And that’s it everyone! Part one of Chaos’ story is done! Please don’t forget to comment and answer some of my questions! Really, let me know what you think!