A Real Boy_THE CLEANSING_Judge of the Underworld Household_The Image
Catalog Guide:
A Real Boy
Sensitive content: animal crueltySomewhere in the countryside of Merida. Mexico, a bruja blanca knelt in the womb of a dark and wet cave. The witch’s shadow climbed the wall behind her as she set the lantern down. Her chest rose and fell as her breath came out in a warm mist. Only then did the middle-aged sorceress begin to dig at the virgin clay before her. The clay squelched as she added another handful, and then another until it began to take the form of a small human. Concepciòn had never created an alux before, but her grandmother taught her as a child. An alux, called a sprite in some co...
THE CLEANSING
Everything was ready for the ritual. It hadn’t been easy. There had been so much to do. It takes time to get it right. Being slipshod could be more dangerous than doing nothing at all.Getting the stuff had been a challenge because of the time issue. It was her fault. Things had been so crazy lately she hadn’t paid attention to the calendar, and now it was the day of the New Moon, a time for beginnings. And timing is everything.Transport had been another issue. Friends could help but people liked explanations and she didn’t have the energy for all that now. There was too much “other” build-up. ...
Judge of the Underworld Household
Bao Si Ran’s dreams lead her into the underworld household. The underground household she goes to is not Hell, nor was it the Greek Underworld ruled by Hades. It is called 阴朝地府(Yin Chao Di Fu) in Chinese, which relatively translates to the Dynasty of Yin and the Underworld Court. Depending on if the person accumulated good or bad karma in life, one can either be send to their next life that would be filled with joy immediately, be promoted into a minor deity in the area or a guardian ancestor for their family so people can build temples for them, or given time to serve in the Underworld Househ.www.onedoor.cc..
The Image
My mother is gone. I am sitting at my computer, my fingers frozen over the keyboard. I want to record this momentous event, the loss of one of the most important people in my life, but I don’t know how to do it. Where to start. Where to end. I knew it was coming, but was amazed when it actually arrived. I sat by her bedside, her withered hand in mine as her spirit slipped away. Words refuse to come. There seems to be no way to make sense of her complicated life. My father brings me a brown cardboard box. On the lid, written in Mom’s loopy script, the word: Memories. He holds it out to me as if...