So obviously I suck at countdowns.  And apparently I need to add one of those Blogging Without Obligation buttons to my sidebar, because I've clearly failed in any kind of blogging obligation I might have had.

The good news is, I'm alive.  In fact, I've been alive this entire time!  I'm not going to go about giving excuses for my absence, because in truth I don't really have one.  I just didn't feel like blogging, so I didn't. 

But now I do.

In other news, today's my birthday and I have important things to do.  Mostly just knitting, slothing, and interneting, but important things nonetheless.  Talk soon!




All posts, images, and content are © Dancing Barefoot unless stated otherwise. All rights reserved.
No content may be copied, reproduced, or used without the express written permission of the author.

All Hallow's Grim Blog Party

Magaly, the Wickedest Darling of them all, is hosting Pagan Culture's 1st Annual All Hallow's Grim Blog Party, along with a fabulous giveaway!  (Incidently, she is also hosting another giveaway, Outside the Bones by Lyn Di Iorio.  Generous, or what?  Check them both out!)  Magaly is a writer who embraces the dark side of fiction, so in the spirit of the party I have delved into the dark recesses of my own disturbed mind to produce a short story fitting for the occasion.

So without further ado, I present to you...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Dreamer May Die

                                                 ...but Never Dies the Dream

You look around your room, lay your head on your pillow, and let the darkness embrace you.  You fall into a cold and terrifying sleep, but are unable to wake, finding yourself shackled to the blackness of your unconscious mind.

And so you dream.

And in this dream you are in a large cavern, illuminated only by a gently pulsating glow from the depths of a chasm nearby.  The walls are rock and ensanguined; the ceiling disappears into the darkness above.  The dim light reveals spatters of rust-coloured dirt – blood-coloured dirt – decorating the jagged rock floor, and one by one, the hairs on the back of your neck rise and prickle the nerves along your spine. You walk towards the chasm and peer over the edge, searching for a bridge, a path, a means of escape – but what you find instead makes your body quiver: a bottomless hole, radiating with burning light, corroding your dark-adjusted eyes with its sheer, caustic brilliance.

A soft and cautiously-placed footstep distracts you and your thoughts, and you turn your head ever so slightly to accommodate this new sound.

A man, unaware of your presence, steps out onto a beam you hadn't noticed.  A whimper is heard, and a curious, crackling noise, and you see the man delicately lift his back foot and place it forward.  As he shifts his weight, a cry echoes through the darkness, and the noise – louder, more pronounced this time – hisses over the reverberating sound emanating from the pit below.  

The man screams, and his step falters.  You watch in horror as he tumbles off the beam, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet.  His anguish and pure, raw fear slash madly at you over the distance, accusing you of life while his own is forfeit. 

And then he is gone, his terror echoing off the walls and gradually fading into the dark.

You step back, then walk towards the place where the man had fallen only moments before.  As you approach, you realize that the beam is not as benign as it first appeared, but is instead a shimmering bar of superheated steel that stretches the entire width of your prison.

The air is heavy with the stink of burnt flesh.  The exit beckons you from the other side,  and you realize that you, like the man before you, have no choice but to cross.  Bracing yourself, you cautiously place your right foot on the red-hot metal and press down with the full of your weight.

Each step is agony.  

The pain sears from the heel of your foot to the ball, decimating the soft, tender tissue between.  Blisters burst as they form, spouting streams of plasma that crackle before disappearing in tiny wisps of steam, leaving behind scattered, fragile trails of biological residue.  The traces left behind – the only evidence of your passing – mingle and intertwine with those of previous travelers.  Heat waves dance and shimmer before you, taunting you with their silky movement, and your nostrils fill with the smell of your own flesh: the sizzling, sickening stench of scorched skin, fat, and bone.  The hissing and popping crescendos over your screams as you place your left foot down, down on the fiery forge and into the blinding white torrent of pain.  Tendons react and contract in the heat, causing your toes to curl and exposing their soft, unmarred skin to the vicious steel.  Nerve endings rupture as muscles spasm and erupt, threatening your balance, your very survival.

You must not falter.

You must not fail.

You shift your weight and whimper, tugging at your back foot.  The charred flesh of your sole has fused with the metal, forcing you to tear the surviving tissue as you move desperately forward.  Each step, each precarious placement, fills your ears anew with the spitting and hissing of fresh skin,

           sealing,

                      searing,

                                 settling your fate into the depths of the unforgiving steel.

You shudder, then lift your back foot gingerly to take the next purgatorial step...

All posts, images, and content are © Dancing Barefoot unless stated otherwise. All rights reserved.
No content may be copied, reproduced, or used without the express written permission of the author.

Countdown to Halloween: Oct. 8-11

My computer ate my camera's memory card, which makes me grumpy.  I had some fabulous photos of The Boy, Husband, and me at the pumpkin patch this weekend, but they are lost.  However, I did manage to rescue a picture of our pumpkins sitting on our front steps, and pictures of the wreaths we made.  (I was in the process of transferring the pictures from card to computer when the latter got hungry.)  I also lost the pictures of that awesome tree I talked about in this post, along with pictures of some pretty dahlias from my garden.

So!  Saturday night we feasted at my parents' for Thanksgiving, which isn't Halloweeny but is definitely autumny (at least for us Canadians).

Sunday was the pumpkin patch and another Thanksgiving dinner.  Pumpkins:

Monday we made wreaths:

Husband and Boy made this one, hanging on the front door

I made this one for the living room

Today it rained.  It rained on the weekend as well, but that has nothing to do with what I'm about to tell you.  Remember the pumpkin fields I was going on about a few days ago (the same place where we got our pumpkins)?  Well on the drive home from work today, there was a beautiful rainbow framing the fields and the barn.  I would've taken a picture, but if you recall my earlier complaining, my camera's memory card doesn't work any more so instead I will provide you with an artist's my rendition of the scene:


Dramatization.

It was simply gorgeous, as you can no doubt see.

So that's it, just a quick update for you.  I need to finish writing my story for the All Hallow's Grim Blog Party, which will be posted on the 13th!

All posts, images, and content are © Dancing Barefoot unless stated otherwise. All rights reserved.
No content may be copied, reproduced, or used without the express written permission of the author.

Snickerdoodles!

If you've never had a snickerdoodle, you're missing out on some serious cookie goodness.  Bonus points:  They're easy!

1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 cup sugar
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 cups flour
2 tbsps sugar
1 tsp cinnamon

Beat the butter with an electric mixer until it's all..well, beaten up.  Mix in the sugar, baking soda, and cream of tartar.  Beat in the egg and vanilla, then add the flour.

Voila, you have your dough.  Because you've just beaten the crap out of it, it will look all crumbly and not very dough-like at all, like this (except you'll have about twice as much because it didn't occur to me to take pictures until half the cookies were already in the oven):

Cover the dough and chill in the fridge for about an hour or so. 

Mix the 2 tablespoons of sugar and the cinnamon in a small bowl.  When your crumbly dough has been chilled, shape it in to small, cookie-sized balls, then roll them around in the sugar/cinnamon mixture until they're nicely covered.

Put them about an inch or so apart on an ungreased cookie sheet, and bake in a 375 F oven for 10-12 minutes.  Cool on a wire rack.

This is supposed to make about 36 cookies, but apparently I either a) make really big cookies, or b) eat way more dough than I think I do, because I always end up with around 20.   

Countdown to Halloween: Oct. 1-8

Sooo..this past week I was kind of in a funk and didn't really feel like doing much that involved the computer.  Being incredibly busy at work and having to work overtime nearly every day hasn't helped much.  And while I haven't done anything big and spectacular for the countdown this week, I have been doing little things every day!

Most of my little things involve collecting various crafty items that can be used in..well, crafts.  I picked up a couple of grapevine wreaths one day, a bunch of cute, fabric, autumny leaves another day, and some paper mache (it just occurred to me that I have no idea how to spell that) apples and fruits on yet another day.  The idea will be to herd the Boy and Husband to the table sometime this weekend (and it's Thanksgiving, so it's a long weekend) and convince them that we are about to partake in an incredibly fun and valuable bit of quality family time, then glue the leaves and fruits to the wreaths and make pretty things before they realize that they are actually participating in a craft.  Which I know isn't at all original, but whatever.

Last night, a friend on Facebook posted a poor-quality cell phone picture of an amazing tree, and I am bound and determined to hunt down this tree today and take a picture of it with a real camera.  It's a huge maple, and all of the leaves are still very green, except for this one small patch of phenomenally bright red leaves.  Seriously, they're so bright and in such contrast to the green leaves that they look fake, and in fact I thought they were.  There is absolutely no yellow-orange transition between the green and red, it's all just greengreengreengreenBRIGHTFREAKINREDgreengreengreengreen.  I will find it and show you, and your mind will boggle.

I've also been oggling the pumpkin fields that I drive by every day on my way home from work.  (Actually, I drive by them on the way to work as well, but apparently I'm still asleep when I do because I can't remember even seeing them in the morning, nevermind oggling them.  I should probably consider waking up before I drive.)  There's nothing like watching an entire field turn bright orange day by day.

And I think that's it, aside from watching witchy movies almost every night.  Oh, and season 4 of Merlin has finally started, so I watched that too.  Very fitting for this time of year - they're celebrating Samhain, and Morgana has gone and torn the veil between worlds.  If you're looking for a good TV series that's not particularly deep but entertaining nonetheless, I'd suggest this one.  It's a family-orientated fantasy show (and not historical fiction, so don't expect everything to be 100% accurate), and I love it.  The Boy and I are both addicted.

So there you have it.  My first week of the countdown has involved crafty things, pumpkin fields, and TV/movies.  Oh, and I decorated my office with Halloweeny things, including a supercute "The Witch is IN/OUT" sign (where you flip over the in/out depending on whether you're in or out!) and a pair of bloody handprints (gel-clings) on my window.  Awesome.

Mom's a Witch! (well, almost)

The Boy brought up his beliefs at the dinner table the other night.  Husband is out of town, so it was just him and me.  I don't mind talking to him about religion and his beliefs - in fact, I rather enjoy it, and I always use the opportunity to remind him that he can believe in whatever he wants, no matter what anybody else says, and that other people can believe in whatever they want, and just because it's different than what he believes doesn't mean it's wrong.

The thing is though, I'm not overly comfortable talking to him about my beliefs.  Not because I'm ashamed of them, but because I really really don't want to influence him at this stage in his life.  He's still young.  He's very impressionable and is always seeking approval, and I'm worried that he'll want to do something or be a part of something just because Mom is.  And it's not that I don't want him to be a part of it, I just firmly believe that people should find their own paths, and should not be steered in any one direction.  While my intentions would certainly not be to steer him or influence him, I think it would be unavoidable given his insatiable desire to be Just.Like. the people he loves.  But I want him to be Just.Like. him.  Does that make sense?  So the only aspect of my personal beliefs that he's been aware of up to now has been that I don't believe in a god.

Giveaway Winner!

I used a Random Number Generator to pick.

And the winner is...

Elle from the Witchy State of Mind blog!

See?

Congratulations Elle, and thanks to everyone who entered!  There will be more giveaways in the future, I promise!