Today, I have something for the strong of spirit, the battle-hardened veteran. Yes, I have been known to fancy the admiration of a lady or two, and I do dabble in the fine arts of flower making... but today is different. Today I have a tale that will chill the life from your very bones!
I awoke this morning in a peculiar position. I was sitting on my favorite chair, but it was in a different space. I had fallen asleep in my bed, as per usual, but on this morning, I awoke in my chair - in my shoppe. I do not remember getting up in the middle of the night, nor could I recall why my fingers were ever so sore. In fact, before I even began to wonder about why I was in my chair, I was drawn to my hands. They were a dark sanguine color, as if I had torn the skin from my fingers. Needless to say, I was taken back by the sight! I quickly moved my fingers about, and by the grace of God, they were unharmed - for it was not my blood on them, but that of a creature unknown.
Once I realized I wasn't harmed, I began to ask myself, "What happened here?" Was I attacked? ...did I attack someone else?
I stood up from my chair, my hands still brittle and sore, caked with dry blood. As I took a step forward, I saw it...
A flower, made entirely of bones! What a gory and splendid sight! I was both terrified and enthralled at the beauty of it. Did I craft it? I... I guess I must have - somehow - in my sleep.
But what would possess me to do such a thing? Where would I even find the skill - or the bones!
I did not have to look far for my answer. For the flower itself was resting on the tranquil singing log of which I have become wholeheartedly enamored. Perhaps, I crafted the flower in a dream as a present for the log that has given me so many hours of melodious harmony. Surely, that must be the answer. I was doing something nice, albeit grim, for my closest friend? For what other explanation could there be? It is obvious I wasn't compelled to do so, right?
Nevertheless, should you wish to gaze upon my skeletal masterpiece, you need only visit my House of Curios - open many hours each day! But, I must warn you... leave your delicate wife and child at home; this art isn't for the feint of heart.
ElManisero wrote:Hello Again My Longtime Friends and New Clients;
Today, I have something for the strong of spirit, the battle-hardened veteran. Yes, I have been known to fancy the admiration of a lady or two, and I do dabble in the fine arts of flower making... but today is different. Today I have a tale that will chill the life from your very bones!
I awoke this morning in a peculiar position. I was sitting on my favorite chair, but it was in a different space. I had fallen asleep in my bed, as per usual, but on this morning, I awoke in my chair - in my shoppe. I do not remember getting up in the middle of the night, nor could I recall why my fingers were ever so sore. In fact, before I even began to wonder about why I was in my chair, I was drawn to my hands. They were a dark sanguine color, as if I had torn the skin from my fingers. Needless to say, I was taken back by the sight! I quickly moved my fingers about, and by the grace of God, they were unharmed - for it was not my blood on them, but that of a creature unknown.
Once I realized I wasn't harmed, I began to ask myself, "What happened here?" Was I attacked? ...did I attack someone else?
I stood up from my chair, my hands still brittle and sore, caked with dry blood. As I took a step forward, I saw it...
A flower, made entirely of bones! What a gory and splendid sight! I was both terrified and enthralled at the beauty of it. Did I craft it? I... I guess I must have - somehow - in my sleep.
But what would possess me to do such a thing? Where would I even find the skill - or the bones!
I did not have to look far for my answer. For the flower itself was resting on the tranquil singing log of which I have become wholeheartedly enamored. Perhaps, I crafted the flower in a dream as a present for the log that has given me so many hours of melodious harmony. Surely, that must be the answer. I was doing something nice, albeit grim, for my closest friend? For what other explanation could there be? It is obvious I wasn't compelled to do so, right?
Nevertheless, should you wish to gaze upon my skeletal masterpiece, you need only visit my House of Curios - open many hours each day! But, I must warn you... leave your delicate wife and child at home; this art isn't for the feint of heart.
Your nocturnally talented trader, Waspo
My my, that log is certainly quite peculiar. However, you're starting to worry me. Be wary of your health, lest the plague doctors mark you as diseased and priests label you possessed.
I have been away for a few days on many an adventure; paddling up the coast on my canoe, roaming the woods in search of treasures (and mushrooms), tending to my fertile fields of plenty. Why, just the other day, I spotted a strange man dashing about in the hills outside of town. He wore a bright green beard, glimmering like freshly budded seaweed shining on the shore. He spoke little as he darted about, to and fro - but I sensed a strange power to him... as if his mind was racing with a thousand ideas, each awaiting the labor of his nimble hands to birth themselves into existence. Yes, he had the look of a creator about him - and I for one am glad to see it. A town like Salem needs as many creators as it has destroyers... and we all know this village has death in abundance.
But I can say with honesty that it feels good to be out foraging again. It is hard to recall the number of hours I've spent cooped up in my shoppe, fiddling with one thing or another. But to be out in the world as nature blossoms around me is a fantastic feeling. It is a rush almost as intoxicating as the first stolen kiss from a beautiful maiden - or the first sale with a new client. And speaking of intoxication, I've heard folk medicine has become all the rage in town. People hurrying about to study new sciences and craft new remedies. I, for one, could use a cure for flatulence... but that is a story for another time.
You might be asking yourself, what dark and twisted toy have I for you today? Well, I did mention death, and you shall need wait no further!
The Lord Jesus once said of death, "of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only!" (Matthew 24) While neither you nor I know the hour of our demise, surely we may prepare for it with solemn reverence. With that in mind, I have for you... the wood plank of a coffin.
Crafted by a master woodworker, this timber is destined for a terrible purpose. Will it be the lid to the casket that returns your body to the dirt from whence you came? Or shall it seal the sarcophagus of a Salemite who should have steered clear of your steel? Perhaps it will simply be an object to help focus your mind in hopes of glimpsing the life beyond? I have only one for sale, but should you plan on using them for... others... then I can acquire what you seek.
My dog walks me to the park and doggy styles me, if you find that weird you're an arrogant gender-assuming bloodthirsty gun-loving cisgender bestial sexist incestuous white-previlege misogynistic biased raped privileged Nazi slave owner terrorist lesbian.
Oh, I am in a bit of a leafy bind. Just the other day, I was in a... less reputable... part of town and I spotted a merchant with a strange plant. As I drew closer he told me all about its various medicinal and healing properties. The man raved on and on about how this plant will change the way I see the world and expand my mind. He went on to assure me that not only was this plant of great medical use, but the byproducts of this plant were also of great utility. I inquired about the price and was aghast at the number he quoted me. Surely, his miracle plant would not come cheap.
So what was I to do? Believe a total stranger in the dark of the night? Give him my hard-earned silver for a plant I knew nothing about?
Well, naturally I scooped up the whole crate of what he was selling. Surely, my intrepid clients would want me to acquire something so strange!
Alas, despite my various experiments, it seems colewort has none of the magical properties I was promised... But, there is a silver lining to my trade - since I have been able to find a wide variety of edible uses for the leafy green; Cabbage Cakes Cabbage Rolls Should you wish to experiment on colewort, or simply enjoy a tasty sandwich, you are always welcome at Waspo's House of Curios! Rest assured, I now have crates and crates of the plant...
To live each day well is to meet new friends and learn new things. Every day in Salem, I am met by unfamiliar faces and exposed to new ideas. This is the beauty of the New World and it never fails to bring a smile to my face. But be warned my fellow pilgrims, not all knowledge is mirth! Look and see a man - look closer and see a monster!
Just the other day I was chatting with a Dutchman who had entered into a company to import glass into Salem. A shrewd businessman, he told me about the opportunities that exist at every turn in this vast world. As we were talking, an exotic maiden stepped out from the shadows. Her sudden appearance surprised us both, but her beauty put us at ease. Her accent was strange, foreign to my ears, but she smelled unmistakably like exotic rosewood from distant shores. She looked concerned, but with great bravery she leaned in and before I could react, she asked, "Are you Waspo? ...I need your help."
My Dutch friend made his quiet exit while I escorted the lady inside for a bit of privacy. In my experience, I've found that when someone seeks you out, you need not ask them any questions. They will tell you everything you need to know. As we settled into chairs by the fireplace, she began to speak,
"Forgive my intrusion, but I heard you are a man who is well versed in the... strange." I gently smiled and nodded. I had a kettle on the fire brewing a bit of tea and I offered her a clay cup. As she reached out to take the cup, I noticed she was carrying a small pack. Not much larger than a hearty loaf of bread, my curiosity was now in full bloom.
"I fear I have no friends in Salem, but I overheard your name in the market. They said you sold - how do you say esquisitices?"
"I have made a reputation on trading the strange and interesting," I replied.
"Then you must help me! My poor irmão Paulo is lost and I have no idea what to do."
"Perhaps you can start from the beginning?" I asked.
"Ah, sim! My, my father owns a fazenda in Jundiaí. My family is Catholic, and my father pushed my brother into the seminary. But Paulo era um rebelde... a, a wild one. He did not like the Jesuits and ran away, up north. We had not heard of him for several years until he wrote to my family from Salem. He said he was in love with a woman and was getting married. My father was furious, but I knew I had to see my brother again. I made the voyage here, only to find his house empty. I have the address from his letter, but there was no one there. The clothes look like his size, but the house is a mess. It was as if someone had searched it looking for something."
She flashed a wry smile. I could tell she found what others had not.
"Graças a Deus they did not know meu irmão like I do. He loves to hide things behind the fireplace when we were young. There was a loose brick, and when I moved it, I noticed something in the dark. Something... frightening!" Her hands trembled as she opened the pack on her lap to reveal...
A most hideous and terrifying masque!
It was unmistakably the skull of a human, but the jaw was intertwined with tentacles like that of a sea creature. Surely this was witchcraft of the highest order, for I could not easily see where the man stopped and the monster began. Was it even a masque at all - or was this the remnants of a creature conjured from the depths of Hell itself? I was gazing at the horror she held until I heard her voice calling out to me - bringing my mind back to the present.
"Senhor! What is this crânio? What was my brother doing?"
I quickly covered it back up, for looking into the hollow eye sockets was a nauseating burden I could no longer stomach. I gently took the pack from her hands and replied, "Surely this is just a joke. I have seen many like it. The children in Salem use masques like this to scare each other."
"But what of my brother senhor?"
Her eyes were scared. She saw the truth, the horrid, fetid truth, but she did not want to believe. It has been my experience that no one will believe that which they cannot handle. So I told her the truth that she longed for; "Your brother probably booked passage on a ship and is headed somewhere where the Winters are less harsh. It can get very cold in Salem, and I'm sure he will write to you once he finds his way someplace more agreeable."
She looked out the window and softly nodded. She could live her live believing he was on an island... rather than spend one more moment thinking he was murdered at the hands of a villainous witch - or worse - become a Devil himself!
She looked back at me, with a new look of concern. "Senhor, I have no money to pay you."
I shook my head and walked over to the window. A red rose grew in a small clay pot. My shop was always dark, so it spent all its energy fighting to see the few rays of light that peeked through each short Summer. I handed her the pot and asked her to keep the rose close as she returned home. "Like your brother, this too must find a new climate if it wishes to thrive."
As she left, I was now alone with that terrible masque. I knew not what was best, but I stashed it in a hollow log near my cotton field. Later that night, I saw lanterns in the field. I was too scared to go outside, but when day broke I hurried to the log.
ElManisero wrote:Greetings Friends and Sporting Clients;
To live each day well is to meet new friends and learn new things. Every day in Salem, I am met by unfamiliar faces and exposed to new ideas. This is the beauty of the New World and it never fails to bring a smile to my face. But be warned my fellow pilgrims, not all knowledge is mirth! Look and see a man - look closer and see a monster!
Just the other day I was chatting with a Dutchman who had entered into a company to import glass into Salem. A shrewd businessman, he told me about the opportunities that exist at every turn in this vast world. As we were talking, an exotic maiden stepped out from the shadows. Her sudden appearance surprised us both, but her beauty put us at ease. Her accent was strange, foreign to my ears, but she smelled unmistakably like exotic rosewood from distant shores. She looked concerned, but with great bravery she leaned in and before I could react, she asked, "Are you Waspo? ...I need your help."
My Dutch friend made his quiet exit while I escorted the lady inside for a bit of privacy. In my experience, I've found that when someone seeks you out, you need not ask them any questions. They will tell you everything you need to know. As we settled into chairs by the fireplace, she began to speak,
"Forgive my intrusion, but I heard you are a man who is well versed in the... strange." I gently smiled and nodded. I had a kettle on the fire brewing a bit of tea and I offered her a clay cup. As she reached out to take the cup, I noticed she was carrying a small pack. Not much larger than a hearty loaf of bread, my curiosity was now in full bloom.
"I fear I have no friends in Salem, but I overheard your name in the market. They said you sold - how do you say esquisitices?"
"I have made a reputation on trading the strange and interesting," I replied.
"Then you must help me! My poor irmão Paulo is lost and I have no idea what to do."
"Perhaps you can start from the beginning?" I asked.
"Ah, sim! My, my father owns a fazenda in Jundiaí. My family is Catholic, and my father pushed my brother into the seminary. But Paulo era um rebelde... a, a wild one. He did not like the Jesuits and ran away, up north. We had not heard of him for several years until he wrote to my family from Salem. He said he was in love with a woman and was getting married. My father was furious, but I knew I had to see my brother again. I made the voyage here, only to find his house empty. I have the address from his letter, but there was no one there. The clothes look like his size, but the house is a mess. It was as if someone had searched it looking for something."
She flashed a wry smile. I could tell she found what others had not.
"Graças a Deus they did not know meu irmão like I do. He loves to hide things behind the fireplace when we were young. There was a loose brick, and when I moved it, I noticed something in the dark. Something... frightening!" Her hands trembled as she opened the pack on her lap to reveal...
A most hideous and terrifying masque!
It was unmistakably the skull of a human, but the jaw was intertwined with tentacles like that of a sea creature. Surely this was witchcraft of the highest order, for I could not easily see where the man stopped and the monster began. Was it even a masque at all - or was this the remnants of a creature conjured from the depths of Hell itself? I was gazing at the horror she held until I heard her voice calling out to me - bringing my mind back to the present.
"Senhor! What is this crânio? What was my brother doing?"
I quickly covered it back up, for looking into the hollow eye sockets was a nauseating burden I could no longer stomach. I gently took the pack from her hands and replied, "Surely this is just a joke. I have seen many like it. The children in Salem use masques like this to scare each other."
"But what of my brother senhor?"
Her eyes were scared. She saw the truth, the horrid, fetid truth, but she did not want to believe. It has been my experience that no one will believe that which they cannot handle. So I told her the truth that she longed for; "Your brother probably booked passage on a ship and is headed somewhere where the Winters are less harsh. It can get very cold in Salem, and I'm sure he will write to you once he finds his way someplace more agreeable."
She looked out the window and softly nodded. She could live her live believing he was on an island... rather than spend one more moment thinking he was murdered at the hands of a villainous witch - or worse - become a Devil himself!
She looked back at me, with a new look of concern. "Senhor, I have no money to pay you."
I shook my head and walked over to the window. A red rose grew in a small clay pot. My shop was always dark, so it spent all its energy fighting to see the few rays of light that peeked through each short Summer. I handed her the pot and asked her to keep the rose close as she returned home. "Like your brother, this too must find a new climate if it wishes to thrive."
As she left, I was now alone with that terrible masque. I knew not what was best, but I stashed it in a hollow log near my cotton field. Later that night, I saw lanterns in the field. I was too scared to go outside, but when day broke I hurried to the log.
The masque was gone.
Eternally yours, Waspo
This is undeniable proof that witchcraft very much is present in these new-found lands, if I may have a say. As previously stated, I've always been of the belief that the evil fears to tread upon God's land - and thus that evil is very much non-existent in our world - but this... unspeakable horror... proves me wrong. None the less, should you ever find yourself in a peril involving dark magic, you know where to find me.
Cabbage Cakes
Cabbage Rolls
