Where My Witches At?

Auspiciously, a few years back, I found a well written, darkly humorous compilation of short stories titled Witches Brew and edited by Yvonne Jocks.  The book contains the work of  Yeats, Ursula Le Guin,  Emily Bronte, Shirley Jackson, Louise Erdich, Ray Bradbury, Dean Koontz, and Anton Chekov, to name a few.  It is divided into three sections: The Wicked Witch, Witchcraft as Empowerment, and The Nature Witch. As I am reading, I see some of myself in those intensely sly and seriously clear eyed characters. Cackle cackle!

I know this is off the subject, but some things have gotten so tight around me that I would vote for Christine O'Donnell if she were a good enough witch and I lived in her district.  This world could use some righteous magic.  "I Am Not a Witch..." (psychologytoday.com)  Too bad.

What might be be acceptable fun is rereading some good old horror stories such as Bram Stoker's Dracula or Mary Shelly's Frankenstein.  I have to say, for me, the books are almost always better than the movies.  The amorous minded out there could read The House of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe.  Jane Austen parodies gothic in Northhanger Abbey, but of course there's a love story in there somewhere too.  Personally, I love to read Poe's The Cask of Amontillado even though it scares the hell out of me. It's that story where one man offends another and the offended one decides to close the other one up alive in a wall, in an underground isolated dungeon, surrounded by the bones of the dead.  You would never do that to someone or would you?

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