Download - Volume I, Issue I - The Supernatural
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Volume 1 Issue 1 The Supernatural>
7/27/2019 Volume I, Issue I - The Supernatural
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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
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by Axel Janssen
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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...
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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.
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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.
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Or the Doll Gets It
Oil on canvas
“ “
by Elizabeth Pallack>