Volume I, Issue I - The Supernatural

7/27/2019 Volume I, Issue I - The Supernatural

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/volume-i-issue-i-the-supernatural 1/6

Volume 1 Issue 1 The Supernatural>



I

B

Are you STRAPPED?

Let’s face it...you’re STRAPPED.Strapped for time, strapped for

money...either you’re strapped,you’re loaded, or you’re lying.

This mini zine was created toencourage those who put off theircreativity (“I don’t have time!) to

come together and create anyways.To encourage each other and

become part of a community of other artists, writers, and everyday

people who don’t even considerthemselves creative.

Everyone has something interestingto share...even you...ESPECIALLYyou...we’re all strapped, so let’s

start creating and sharing and be

strapped together!(duct tape is optional)

This Issue: The Supernatural>

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Dori Cameron@floggingdori

Submissions of a rt, photography, poetry, short stories,prose, tattoos, are entirely welcome and encouraged,

wherever you are in the world!

Keep writing new material and stay posted online for

upcoming themes, writer’s block suggestions,

and more!

When you hear the word“supernatural”, what do you

think of? Ghosts? Goblins?Sure, these are beyond thenatural world...but what

about the freaky events thathave no reasonable

explanation? Chances areyou’ve had something

unexplainable happen toyou...a coincidence to a

believer is a hoax to askeptic...the question is,which are you?

[email protected] /STRAPPEDzine

Scribd.com/STRAPPEDzine

“Wolfman” pencil sketch by Stephanie Soto

I was always a bit of a skeptic until it happened

to me. Sure, I loved Halloween, scary movies, Dia De

Los Muertos, a good ghost story- but it was more of the

theme of it. I didn't completely reject th e idea of the

supernatural; I just didn't think spirits really had that

much power to manipulate the living's reality. My

sister, Beth, was always a believer. Ever since we were

little, she could see things. I didn't think she was lying

about what she saw and felt exactly. Exaggerating?

Definitely. Beth would go to the old Evergreen Ceme-

tery and sit for hours at night before it got fenced in.

Sometimes, I would accompany her. We would sit on

the steps and smoke cigarettes and

she would tell me what she saw and

felt. The orbs, the silhouettes- she

said it was teeming with spectral

activity. I said to myself, "Uh huh,

sure.” But, I liked going because I

liked cemeteries and I liked hang-

ing out with my sister.

eth moved into my apartment a

few years later. Everything was going well. Beth was settling in. One night

she mentioned how her bed had been

picked up and set back down a few

months ago at our Mom's house while

she was still in it. I was creeped out but

still a tad suspicious. Spirits couldn't

move things. Especially a bed with a

grown woman in it. But, I thought

about it. And it unnerved me a bit.

was alone in the apartment one

evening, reading in bed. All of the

sudden, the strangest feeling came

over me. It just felt very...wrong.

Unnatural. I tried to ignore it, to tell I

was imagining things. Too many ghost

stories and weird things lately. It was

nothing. Yet, I couldn't shake the

by Kathryn CordSpectral Seduction

http://zimplebitz.blogspot.com/2012/04/undo-send-mails-eazy-trick.html

http://www.underconsideration.com/brandnew/archives/facebooks_radically_new_f_logo.php



T

B

by Axel Janssen

I

T

B

N

strange, heavy feeling looming around me. I left my

bedroom and walked into the living room. The air felt

much more clear out there. Normal. I ended up sleeping

in the chair because I didn't want to go back into my

bedroom. I didn't mention anything to my sister. I

chalked it up to too many horror movies and being

alone.

ot even a week later, I w as in my room getting

ready for bed. I had to go to bed semi-early because I

had to wake up at 5 a.m. Since I am a natural night owl,

this was difficult for me. I laid down and tried to will

sleep to come.

hat's when the oppressive, heavy feeling came back.

The room hummed with energy. Suddenly, I felt a weight

next to me on the bed, like someone was laying down

next to me. The presence felt like it was pulling me into

him, willing me to surrender. I felt the w eight of an arm

across my chest like a lover's embrace. "Just go to sleep,"

said a disembodied voice. It wasn't a normal, human voice.

It sounded like a rushing, kind of like wind. I think when

it spoke is when the resolve inside of me came to light. It

felt like it took everything I had, mentally and physically,

to pull myself out of that heavy embrace. It was a struggle.

Finally, I was able to swing one leg off the bed. Then the

other leg. I drug myself into a sitting position and forced

my legs to propel me forward. I felt like a zombie.

walked out of my bedroom and into my sister's room.

I couldn't even speak. I just stood there staring at

her, trying to tell her with my eyes to help me. Beth looked

up from her book and said, "You look like you've just

seen a ghost". I shit you not. That somehow snapped me

back into reality and I was able to tell her what had just

happened. We went back into my room together and as

we crossed the threshold, we could feel the energy still

humming. It had decreased, but it was definitely still

there.

eth burned some of her sage and left it burning in

my room. For some crazy reason, I wanted to go back

to bed because I still had to work early in the morning.

You'd think I would have slept in her room, or slept on

the couch. Nah. I asked her to sleep in my bed with me. I

fell asleep pretty quickly, considering. I think I was calmed

by her presence, comforted that she would know what to

do. She stayed awake and watched the candles go crazy on

the walls. That was ten years ago and nothing like it has

ever happened to me since.

ut, I believe. Hell yes, I believe now.

From the book “The Cuddly Dragon”

We have stumbledRight up toThe edgeAnd the ledge

It crumbled and we tumbleRight down to the hedgeFilled with thorns

And there we metThe Beast

With hornsAnd our hearts

They beatIn rhythmForcing our feetTo go dance with them

And the Devil

Laughs - an impossible grinThis sinBecomes a raft

We float on aboveAnd the Devil laughs moreAs we roll on -

For the worst punishmentIs Love. “Impailed” oil on canvas “by Elizabeth Pallack>

by Caitlin Kazepis

The Devil’s Gift by Kaila Ann Chaffee

he blood was dripping from your mouth,

razor sharp teeth, the only two inside that mysterious

cave of yours. Once bitten, one shall never see the

true light ever again. Your eyes, they're set to kill. Thehunger in them almost taunts me, plays with my once

so fragile yet quiet mind. You killed her, poured her

blood into yours and swallowed her up. Her blood

tastes so sweet, so rich, you say. Sinking your teeth

into her pale white skin was your favorite part, you

say. You say you couldn't stop; it had to be done. She

was meant to die.

Laying there in your arms, a dead corpse waiting to

become the monster as are you. Ice cold, restful body

lying there ever so loosely in the palms of your own

two deadly, cold hands. You look up at me and

wonder what you have done. You're a fool, taking

one’s life to help your own well-being. How ever so

sick you are, ever so selfish. How could one ever

Lay Me To Rest...



+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Departed guests

forgive thy self? The answer is, they won't.

Her eyes, they awaken. But, they're so different, so

ravishingly red. Almost like the tasteful blood,

pouring from your such delight of a mouth. She

looks up at you, wondering what you have done.

She looks around, to replace where her last breaths

were taken only seconds ago. But then, she looks

up at you again, into your most captivating hazel-nut creme eyes. She's startled, she screams, tries to

break free. You tell her, it will be alright, just trust

me. Trust you? You killed that poor girl, you foul

immortal.

She's so thirsty now, for blood. Human or

animal, you choose one for her to devour. After

all, you are the higher power. Guide her, guide her

down your path. The path you've been chosen to

be walking for many years on, and many more to

come about for you. You never die, and neverseem to will. Set the path for her, have her dread-

ful eyes guide you this time, down her own sicken-

ing journey. Train her, get her set for the killing.

Are you ready? You stand there, cautiously. Wait,

for the bite. Her first, so sweet, so warm, but never

yet to be her last.

The FoolproofMixtape

Halloween Edition

For the Ghostly or Dearly

1. “Lose Your Soul” by Dead Man's Bones-

sounds like Tom Waits and Roy Orbison

collaborated with a ghostly choir of children

"Standing on Ghosts" by Two Door Cinema

Club-sounds like Muse meets Vampire Week-

end, this hooky danceable track will put some

life back in your party of deadbeats

“Captivity” photography by Kevin McCool>

For the Lycanthropic guests 1. "I Was a Teenage Werewolf" by The Cramps-

sounds like dark wave meets sexy swing, this

is the song you put on after your guests

leave and you want to let loose with a

special lycon friend

2."Wolf Like Me" by TV On The Radio-with

driving beat and heavy fuzz guitars, thissong has enough bite to shape shift any

party into pure magic.

Listen to The FoolproofMixtape: Halloween Edition!

Use the scancode to viewour YouTube playlist orvisit www.youtube.com/users/STRAPPEDzine

by Kelsey Dyer

“Blue Portrait” oil on canvas

By Elizabeth Pallack>

Feeling a little bloodlustful, lycanthropic, or

necromantic? Perhaps you just need a fool

proof mixtape to appease the creatures of the

dark at your Halloween parties this year. Well,

here is your unique playlist for every kind of

party guest your poor soul may encounter, onethat even the most vial of ghouls can enjoy.

For the Vampiric guests 1. "Bloodletting" by Concrete Blonde-sounds

like Jace Everett (True Blood theme song) meets

Siouxsie Sioux

2."Vampire Bat" by Wesley Willis-the schizo- phrenic Chicago songwriter tells a hilari-

ous story about vampire bats attacking asses,

then sneaks an unrelated Folgers coffee

commercial in at the very end.



+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

His death day awaited…

Insolent, yet forgiving.We were unaware, no doomImpending, no surrendering.She has spoken of visions,At young age speaking to, seeingThose who have passed,Unreachable, no longer attainable.She noticed her white hai r,

Behind the house, a spot where

When I was young, my father

Would pick lilacs for her, wrapping themIn foil, settling in my lap duringMany Sunday rides to visit her.

She switched sides at 94, herVoice muted, her smile suffocated.Yet our neighbor spotted her, aDecade later, picking lilacs from

A bush that has long crawled downward andDissipated into the ground like she.

The visionary pointed, asking him,“Who is that woman picking flowers?” Describing his mother -Her glasses, her gait...anEarthquaking erupted, in motionYet grounded, for then he knew

He would soon be holding lilacs,Greeting my arrival.

He did not die...merely returnedTo those he already knew,Viewing us through a thin veil,Not becoming God, but remaining,Unrecognizable, through memories,

Disorienting, yet comforting, “Desolation” photography by

Kevin McCool>

“When Pigs Fly” layout and illustration

in oilpaint by Axel Janssen

What is it that brings youcomfort? Is it an object, aperson, a favorite song?

When you’re at your wit’s

end, what pulls you back inand grounds you?

Do you have a great story totell about someone

unexpected comforting you?How about a time when youwere completely uncomfort-able? A disturbing dream orsituation? We are lookingfor artists and writers to

feature for our next issue of STRAPPED zine!

Submit any and allphotographs, tattoos, prose,

poetry, short stories,artwork, streams of

consciousness, haiku, or

other creative piecesrelating to this month’stheme, “Comfort

Next Issue:

Comfort and Discomfort>

and Discomfort” [email protected]!

First time writer? Have writer’sblock? Shoot over an email for

individualized feedback andsuggestions! (Deadline 11/18/13)

ABOUT THE EDITOR: Dori Cameron is a member of

The Jezebelles (www.GirlRockChoir.com), the world’s

only GIRL.ROCK.CHOIR. based out of Riverside,California. She is a lemon-eating, Guinness drinking,

bike enthusiast...and oh yea! She also writes!

Cover photography by Kevin McCool

SCAN HERE to “Like” uson Facebook, stay con-nected, and get encourage-ment to keep writing, even

though you’re STRAPPED.

by Dori Cameron

Silent PurgatoryAs I practice breathing, waiting forMy vision to return,To see my father againIn silent purgatory.



Or the Doll Gets It

Oil on canvas

“ “

by Elizabeth Pallack>

Volume I, Issue I - The Supernatural

Documents

Transcript of Volume I, Issue I - The Supernatural