Archive for the ‘Weird stuff’ Category

When circumstances out of your control force you to live with someone whose mind follows no known path of human logic…

128523875992source: http://plus4chan.org/

Holy shit, it’s a madhouse in here.

Here’s a doozy. It’s a poll about polls.

Yeah, wrap your head around that bit of Inception-like layering. (Hey, if I won’t flatter myself, no one will.)

Tumblr Link

Posted: September 24, 2013 in Love, Weird stuff
Tags: , ,

I forgot! I’m also over on Tumblr where I do nothing writerly, just collect lots of funny stuff that makes me laugh.

But be warned, I’m not very high-brow. There will be curse words. (How naughty.) http://piiabredenberg.tumblr.com

Those of you who’ve read The Dark Song might know what I’m referring to with the title. I thought it would be fun to explain the idea and inspiration behind “the Bakery House”. So here goes:

It’s all real.

Okay, not really, but close. Parts of it are indeed based on reality.

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, my parents bought an old house on an island. It’s a big island, not one of those rocky solitary places. My island is green and lush, and it was already very familiar to me having spent all my summers there with my grandparents.

But this house was different. It wasn’t as old as the Bakery House of the story, but it was plenty creepy, and to be honest, I hated it.

The first time I visited the place, before we moved in, it was quite the experience. The house had no lights, so everything was in shadows even by day. And there were flies swarming around, just like in the movies when you know there’s a dead body somewhere. I wasn’t a happy girl that day, the place scared me. But I was curious. It felt like an adventure, like visiting a haunted house. You could *feel* there was a story there.

After we moved in, got rid of the flies, and cleaned the place up, the house started to reveal its weirdness to us in earnest.

It was full of other peoples old stuff, like unsettling drawings and paintings in closets upstairs, and there were books and old papers with religious scribblings on them inside the walls. Inside. The. Walls.

There were secret compartments too, I’m not even kidding.

Sometimes I could swear someone was watching me. I still feel that occasionally. Usually there’s a smell of cigarettes when it happens.

I never found out how the place got so creepy. After my parents worked their magic, the place changed. Now there’s light. It’s cosy and pleasant. It feels like home. Like the darkness was exorcised by my family moving in and shining a light upon it.

But still, I admit, I’d rather not be there alone at night. The house still knows how to scare me, even if the ghosts are all in my head.

P.S. Just a few minutes ago I learned from my brother that there’s an actual room in the house that I didn’t even know about. The door is sealed and wallpapered over.