Notices by M of Witches Town (signalstation@witches.town)

I have to be careful not to post too often because of all the effort that follows... the robed figures awakening from their slumber, snapping awake by instinct, compelled to crawl to nearby peaks and ring out a peal of bells, or light signal fires that radiate out over hills and vales: A NEW POST IS COME! ARISE! ARISE AND READ!

Seems a bit much, but what are you going to do.

Everybody talks a big game about the exorcism of spirits, but when you're pinned to your ceiling and a yawning spinning spectral pit opens beneath you, suddenly everyone's got "other plans" or "forgot they weren't sanctified or qualified for spook removal."

SIGNS YOU'VE GOT A SHAPE-SHIFTER LIVING IN YOUR HOME

1) Sometimes you have two of that chair, sometimes you don't

2) People passing by your home point at it and say to each other "That's where that shape-shifter lives."

3) You've told yourself, to your own face, that you're imagining things and there's no shape-shifter in your home

4) Mail arrives addressed to RESIDENT SHAPE-SHIFTER

5) (trick question) You've been able to change your own shape the whole time

It's Sunday and we all know what that means! Everyone in the village has gathered to compete in our weekly debate: What does the miasma that drifts in on damp tendrils smell like THIS week?

Suggestions include (so far):
) Candle smoke from a forgotten dim library
) Grandfathers and grandmothers and unwanted candy
) Flowers sewn into burlap and forgotten in an animal's pen, used as bedding for beasts
) Just regular bog rot... Why does everyone pretend it's anything else?

Noses high, everybody! It's a weekly mystery waiting to be solved!

It's pretty terrible knowing there's a creature in our woods, knocking over ancient trees, snatching away our fellow villagers in the night, etc. etc. No one's denying that. It's awful.

I'm just saying... there's credible reports the thing has a saddle on it. THAT'S the part I'm saying is hilarious. Someone got a saddle on that dark beast! What skill! What hubris! What a monument to dreams!

I hope they managed to ride it, at least once, before the end.

"Eat your vegetables," they say, and never say why. "Eat your vegetables," they roar as we hide under furniture. EAT YOUR VEGETABLES and the very mountains shake, their deep roots cracking with the strength of growing, curling roots, a thick ichor pushing towards the sky.

Every time your eyes blink to keep something out of your eyes, that's your body reminding you that you're not really in control. It's managing most things without you.

You're a hitchhiker with a toy steering wheel in front of you.

18. If you were a doll, what accessories would come with you?

- A ball of wet hair, swallowed and accumulated over years, removed surgically
- a blanket of capped fungi, slick to the touch, undulating
- the kind of deep sorrow that can only be safely stored in mud
- burning eyes in the dark
- like, a comb
- the secret names of The Nine Masters and knowledge of where they dwell, free or imprisoned

"If I'm venomous, that means my bite contains poison. If I'm poisonous, then I'm made of poison and shouldn't be eaten."

"I hate riddles," I responded as its wriggling feet slurped past my lips. "Just real quick, tell me which one you are."

A muffled voice responded, "I feel you have me at a disadvantage and feel that my honesty will be in question no matter how I respond."

I'm old enough to remember when a/s/l in a chatroom meant aegis/sigil/lodestone and the chat party only ended when one or more of us were blasted with the psionic energy of beings beyond space-time, our hair going white, a few of us madhouse-bound.

Please stop tossing pennies into the well. The spirit of the well doesn't need pennies to grant your wishes. The spirit needs a ladder. It wants to crawl out of the well, dripping with goodwill, grinning with wet teeth, ready to assist young lovers and lonely widows with its wish-granting, moist fingertips.

No more pennies. Can't eat any more pennies. Only ladder. A ladder in the dark.

Let's play a game, to help some of the newcomers make connections: Hold these sticky vines in your hands and wrap them around your legs. Then we sit here quietly and listen for the #scuttling of the #ropewalker and her #hundredchildren to scoop us up and #drainourjuices
Then boost this post or repeat its instructions so others know to do the same.

It's Friday and we all know what that means! Time to figure out how to get this chicken, fox and bag of grain across this dang river! Okay. We can do this. First, gather the village elders. We'll need the strength of their blood. We'll need a mixing bowl. Where are the stars? GARY GOSHDANGIT you're on star-watching duty now TELL US WHERE THE STARS ARE! Oh, and a shivering thing has already snatched the chicken beneath the rock pile. Every week this happens, Gary. GARY! C'MON!

Everyone notices when the walls are breathing, but how many are concerned when they stop? How many know what to do? How many press hard against the walls with both hands rhythmically, knocking aside framed photos, to save their haunted home?

Sign up now for a Fall CPR class (Classic Paranormal Respiration) and get 10% off the registration fee!

It's Follow Friday! This week, we recommend following:

Ash of Outside - He never looks behind him! You can follow him through the woods, under bridges, and even into the damp hole he calls home and he won't notice. Follow away!

The Gelded Twins - Everyone who follows them ends up losing them in the Carnival of Silk. Maybe you'll be the first to dodge the silk-weavers and their cold eyes and find out where the Twins roost!

Yours Truly - Not a trap! You can follow me! I'll move slowly! You don't need a torch where we're going! Follow me! And when the air gets musky with spores, breathe deeply! It'll help with the following!