All posts in the Horror category

Friday the 13th – And a lucky day it will be!

Published July 13, 2012 by marindaliza♥

Hello my darling followers!

Hope you’re all doing fantastically!

Soooo as you all know I’m not exactly normal (and if you didn’t know that then I guess you know it now) and basically I see Friday the 13th as a sort of Christmas day.

Maybe it’s my mindset giving off the placebo effect making me think that the day of bad luck actually has the exact opposite on me, but whatever, I’m not complaining! I’ve met some amazing people on this day before, partied till I was sick the next day (read: the NEXT day lol) and generally I always just seem to be in the brightest of moods.

Anyway today is pretty awesome because in South Africa (where I live), it’s a moody and cold day and apparently there’s a chance of rain, so YAY me!

Back to business though, have you ever actually had any BAD luck on Friday the 13th? I have yet to find anyone I know who might have gotten stabbed, mugged, hit by a car or bitten by some dangerous and poisonous spider, so my guess is that you’re all pretty damn lucky already!

Anyway to brighten the day for those dreaded and pesky non-believers, here are some cool fact I’ve compiled of the day, so enjoy!

  • On Friday the 13th, 1979, a black cat crossed the path of Houston football player Tony Frisch and was accidentally kicked 67 yards for a world record.
  • On Friday the 13th in 1962 a Colorado couple, while watching Channel 13 in the honeymoon suite of a Las Vegas motel, were crushed to death by a falling mirror.
  • On Friday the 13th in 1957 a duck hunter, wearing a rabbit’s foot around his neck while hunting near 12-Gauge, Texas, was kicked to death by a giant 3-legged jack rabbit.
  • This year is a special one for Friday the 13ths: There are three of them: Jan. 13, April 13 and July 13. The freaky thing? The dates fall exactly 13 weeks apart. That hasn’t happened since 1984.
  • The next year in which we’ll have three Friday the 13ths is 2015. They’ll fall in February, March and November.
  •  President Franklin D. Roosevelt is said to have avoided travel on the 13th day of any month, and would never host 13 guests at a meal. Napoleon and President Herbert Hoover were also triskaidekaphobic, with an abnormal fear of the number 13.
  • Fear of Friday the 13th dates back to Nordic Mythology.  Many of their thirteenth Gods met with violent deaths, such as Loki, the trickster.
  • A witches coven consists of 13 members.
  • Triskaidekaphobia is the technical name for fear of Friday the 13th.
  • The Chinese, Pagans and others in ancient times marked time by the lunar cycle and calendar, thus 13 was considered a very lucky number.
  • A baker’s dozen consists of 13 for a reason! So the story goes a
    witch near Albany, NY demanded 13 items every time she came in to a particular bakery, and one day the old baker could not afford her extra biscuit. She sneered some strange words at the man, and he suffered terrible luck from then on, until he brought her another 13 rolls. After that life was once again easy for the baker and word spread around town. The custom is still sometimes practiced today.

    Have a happy and lucky day further peeps!

    ♥Marinda Liza♥


The Immerti Possessions

Published August 4, 2011 by marindaliza♥

Valerie wiped the sweat off of her forehead with a handkerchief. The 13 year old boy who had been possessed with a demon had clawed the armrests of the wooden office chair so bad that you could see the deep scratch marks on the chair and deep red cuts on his arms from the rope holding him stationary. Right now though, he looked exhausted as he sat huffing and puffing with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. “Donavon,” whispered the boy’s mother, her bright blue eyes wide with worry, “Are you there boy?” She moved closer and he groaned before opening his eyes. “Is it…gone?” he asked as he looked at Valerie with concern.
Val nodded once. The mother of the boy shot up and grabbed her in her arms and started crying on Valerie’s shoulder. “Thank you! Thank you!” she cried.

Valerie assured the boy and his mother that the exorcism was not a guarantee that the demon wouldn’t come back, they nodded and acknowledged this before Val got on her blue Vespa scooter and drove off to her small hotel room in the heart of Italy.

She put the kettle on and made herself a cup of coffee before sitting at her desk with the writing lamp fixed upon her paperwork. She looked over at the digital clock that said it was 1pm, despite the blackness of the sunless day. It wasn’t the first black day they had experienced in Italy either. It had easily been a week and a half that the sun had not come up. The news proclaimed it was some form of global warming, but those who knew something of it had said nothing.

Valerie Ackerman was one of them. She was a born and bred British exorcist who had moved to Italy when she had heard about the coming darkness. She was a student of The Magical Arts College in London and had studied Exorcism for 3 years. One of her assignments involved moving to a city where demons were attacking most and monitor their behaviour and it was just her –if you can say it like that – luck that Italy was having one of the grossest amounts of demon-possession they had had in over 200 years.

Val’s cellphone rang. “Hello?”
“Val, Jonathon here. How did the exorcism go?” Jonathon Small was Valerie’s best friend. He was studying Herbology at the same school and decided it would be a great opportunity to explore Italy, so he accompanied her on her trip. “I can’t be sure,” she said, staring at the paperwork she was supposed to report her last exorcism on. It stood blank except for the questions that were pre-printed that she needed to answer. “The boy seemed fine, the mother was ecstatic, but the demon made it sound like the boy had been possessed by a demon before it got there. It kept telling me ‘Salavor’ had been right and that ‘Salavor’ saw that this boy was special. The mother told me symptoms only started occurring about 3 months ago and he hadn’t been possessed before.”
“You don’t think the demon was just talking about itself in the third person?”
“Maybe,” she said, “It never mentioned its name.”
“Did you look at the home surroundings?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s an old hotel actually.”
There was a long silence as Jonathon thought. “Any strange plants?” Valerie rolled her eyes. “Are you actually suggesting that plant-demons are toying with the boy?”
“Yes.” he said simply. “There are demons called Immerti who possess plants. They make turns in possessing a person; it’s almost like a hobby for them. I’m surprised you didn’t know this Miss Exorcism.” Jonathon mocked.
She thought for a second and she had to admit to herself that it had been stupid of her not to think of it. Then a terrible thought occurred to her, Immerti demons multiplied like cockroaches and fed off of the young, leaving behind a dark cloud over the house of the children whenever they were done.
“I think we know what’s causing the darkness then.” said Jonathon.

* * * * *

That evening Jonathon and Valerie decided to go out for a drink with Marian Ranger, who was also studying exorcism with Val. It hadn’t been a great idea on Jonathon’s part as it was pouring quite heavily with rain. They met up in a secluded jazz café and Valerie had taken her notes with her. They found a quiet spot in the corner and Marian went over Val’s notes about the boy and the two other exorcism cases she had worked on.

“All these kids are under 18.” she said.
Valerie nodded. “All three were blonde boys too. Do you think there’s a connection?”
Marian frowned and looked at the notes she had scribbled. “I never noticed before, but I’ve also only exercised blonde teens between the ages of 13 and 18. All boys.”
“Immerti?” Jonathon asked, taking a sip from his rum and raisin.
“Sounds about right,” said Marian, “but why would they only attack boys?”
“Who knows?” Jonathon said, “Does anyone know why they only attack teens?”
“Actually yes,” said Val, “They catch on with teenage depression and make teens hallucinate and hear voices.”
“Yes, they’re normally comforting. They tell the teen what they want to hear and convince them not to tell anyone about the voice until it’s too late. Whereas kids unwillingly tell people about an imaginary friend and adults will confide in somebody like a doctor or a therapist.”
“Which takes us back to the question,” said Marian, before ordering a pizza to share and a long-island ice tea. “Why only blonde teenage boys?”

* * * * *

After a few days of research and two more exorcisms involving blonde teenage boys under her belt, Valerie received a phone call from Jonathon. “No forgetting my birthday now.” he said. Valerie felt her face go warm with embarrassment; she’d totally forgotten the date was the 17th of November, Jonathon’s 22nd birthday. “How are we celebrating?” she asked. “My place tonight, a white wine party.”

Valerie laughed at the idea of her, Jonathon and Marian dressing up for a white wine party at Jonathon’s hotel room. She imagined how silly it would look when they add the drunken photos on Facebook with the caption; “Apparently 3’s a party”. Nonetheless, she dressed in a beige halter neck dress, black waistcoat, black pumps and she tied her long brown hair back and knocked on Jonathon’s hotel room door, which was about 5 doors down from hers.

To her surprise Jonathon answered the door in a red bathrobe that would put Hugh Hefner’s to shame. She laughed, “You look ridiculous Jonathon!”
“I think you look amazing.”
Valerie had to do a double take. Her best friend was looking at her like she was the most incredible creature he’d ever laid his eyes on, the music exiting his room sounded like R&B and from what she could see Marian wasn’t there.
“Jonathon, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice uneasy. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Valerie shook her head and just walked in. A table was set up with a red tablecloth and red roses in the centre and roast chicken was served on two plates.
”Yummy!” she said in an exaggerated tone to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. Valerie quickly realised that she was the only awkward one.
“Um,” she said and sat down, taking her notes out of her handbag. “I realised something abut the exorcisms.”
Jonathon wasn’t paying attention and walked to the kitchen. He came back holding a bottle of Merlot in his hands.
“The teens, they all had German parents. Most of their grandfathers were Nazi’s. I take it it’s like the demon’s way of being ‘righteous’.” she said and made hyphens in the air, “Their parents ran away from the grandparents years ago and immigrated here. Do you think there’s a connection?”

Jonathon finished pouring their glasses and looked at Valerie. “Val, why must you be so nosy?” he asked and set the bottle down. Valerie frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
Suddenly Jonathon’s eyes became crimson, his glare focussed on Val and she dropped her notes. “This is all an illusion,” said a deep, dark voice that escaped Jonathon’s lips. “Jonathon’s not possessed. You are.”

Suddenly the room went black. Valerie felt the blood drain from her body and cold sweat dripped down her arms as she sat in a wooden armchair, tied with ropes. She shook and shuddered uncontrollably and next thing she knew she was facing Marian who was holding a bible in her hands, reading a verse from it she knew well.

“…for he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, and she was dying. As Jesus went, the people pressed around him…”

It was Luke 8:7 – the one she knew was used for exorcism.

Then it all went white. Valerie knew she wasn’t going to be a survivor and she knew it wasn’t just teenage boys the demon was attacking. It was teenagers with a liking for the supernatural, with German descendants, and 18 year old Valerie Ackerman was no exception.

The Vampire’s Midnight Snack

Published July 22, 2011 by marindaliza♥

I remember waking up feeling bewildered, scared and completely paralyzed as I stared up at the moon and the stars straight above me. I remember the hard stones and dirt that dug into my back and legs and the cold breeze that tickled against my naked skin as I lay there. If I could have frowned, it would probably have been the first thing I did, but all I could do was stare, with my eyes being the only part of me that was able to move at all.

Automatically I took in the scene, but it startled me so much more to come to the realization that the grey rocks that towered above me were not mere boulders, but gravestones.

I looked around, pulling my eyes as far to each side as possible, taking in a scene that just consisted of gravestones. I half expected a crazy murderer with an axe to walk my way, but nobody appeared. I listened carefully too, but all I could hear was the swooshing of the wind. What was I doing in a graveyard, paralyzed of all my senses? Clearly there was no logical explanation for something like that?

But not a second after my thought, I felt a burst of pain like a bolt of lightning shoot through my body, causing all of my limbs to lock me in a fetal position. I howled like a wild animal as my body suddenly contorted backward, almost snapping my back in half like it had a mind of its own. I screamed hysterically and my screams echoed against the darkness. Suddenly the pain stopped and I was rammed hard against the ground, the stones and dirt digging even more heavily into my naked skin, but not a second later my back suddenly rose on its own into midair, my limbs hung down and so did my head, lifeless.

“Ain’t she lovely Valentine?” I would have jumped at the sudden sound of the voice if I could, but instead I felt more scared than I thought was humanly possible. The voice was that of a man’s with a thick, rough Scottish accent. My eyes darted around frantically, but I couldn’t find the owner of the voice. “Hmm… She could do with a bit of extra meat on her bones, but I think she would make for an appetizing snack.” said another voice. This one was calmer and more sophisticated, also spoken by a man. If I thought I was scared before, it was nothing compared to what I had felt now. My body was probably numb, but my heart definitely wasn’t as it raced against my chest, sounding more and more like a stampede. There was no doubt these men were talking about me, because I definitely didn’t notice anyone else in sight and I was positive that nobody else was hovering in midair.

“Lower the girl Sullivan.” the man with the sophisticated voice said. “It’s, um, it’s Sully.” said the other. “What?” “That’s my name, Valentine. Call me Sully.” I heard the man called Valentine sigh loud and I wondered if his eyes rolled at the same time. “Lower the girl, Sully.” he said. I heard a loud bang when I dropped to the ground and I wasn’t sure if it was my back, but my paralysis had suddenly disappeared and I could feel every bruise on and in my frail body and I screamed like a banshee.

Sully laughed. “She’s a screamer too, eh?” he said excitedly and nudged Valentine when I finally caught sight of them from the ground. Sully wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. He was a thin young man with attractive boyish features and long blonde hair tied at the nape of his neck and looked pretty much like every other rebellious teenager in town. Valentine, on the other hand, had a strange look about him. He was tall and even more attractive than the young boy standing next to him with short, coiffed dark hair, but he was standing extraordinarily still in a suit that looked like it was made in the 18th century with frilly cuffs at the end of both sleeves and an old waistcoat that looked like it was bought at a party shop.

Valentine ignored Sully’s comment and waved a hand in the air in my direction as he stared at me. My pain seemed to vanish instantly. I gasped as the relief of it washed through my body. Then I remembered that I was naked and I quickly sat up and covered myself with my hands, arms and legs and stared down at the ground.

“No need to cover ‘em bits mitten, you ain’t got anything to show anyway.” Sully joked and handed me a blanket as he laughed. I looked up then, only to see a gold tooth of his glinting in the moonlight. I swallowed hard. Valentine suddenly smiled at me and my eyes nearly popped out my head as I looked up. Two of his top teeth were long and fanged like that of a lion’s. I screamed at the top of my lungs and jumped up, forgetting all about the blanket, not caring who saw me naked as I ran as fast as I could to what looked like the entrance of the cemetery.

I heard a crack and crunch and this time I was positive it was my back breaking as I was knocked off my feet and my back pushed completely forward into my chest on its own will again, puncturing my lungs and cutting off all air I was unable to breathe. Then, like I was some puppet being controlled by a sadistic puppeteer, I was spun around wildly and met Valentine and Sully’s glares. This time Sully was holding a long wooden stick that resembled something of a wand and was pointing it at me.

I wondered in my wake if anyone had heard my screaming. What did it matter now? I knew I was going to die.

“Enough Sullivan. I don’t play with my food.”

When I looked again, Valentine was next to me, pulling my hair and his mouth was at the nape of my neck.

“Geraldine Pollock,” he whispered my name “Tonight, you are given the honour of being a vampire’s midnight snack.”

Then it all went black.