Monthly Archives: September 2012

Road Chronicles

My time in Southern California has been completely wonderful. I’ve gotten to visit the Queen Mary, drove out to Venice Beach to spend time with a friend, and got a new tattoo in the process! I checked out the Echo Park Time Travel Mart and Wacko, a treasure trove of tikis, and oddly fantastic kitschy stuff out in Hollywood. I haven’t written much about my adventures here because this visit was kind of a cool down period that I’ve sorely been needing. I’d been pushing myself so hard to get out and see everything I could in the limited amounts of time that I’ve had in the other places that I’ve visted, that it was getting really stressful.

Having now taken the time to de-stress and relax, I’m feeling much better and ready to get back on the road!

This weekend, I’ll be driving out to Albuquerque, NM for The Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta! I’m hugely excited, and very eager to see the Mass Ascension early sunday morning :)

In Hell – Flash Fiction

I watch as the bookshelf topples over onto a five year old boy, his arms raised in self defense before being crushed beneath the weight of it. A bookshelf that I pushed. Another spectral sin added to the list. I listen as he cries out, wailing for his parents. Parents who will never come because of me. They’re both dead upstairs.

It’s a horror show, this existence. I’m only nine months in, and there’s been so much death, so much violence.

We were all taught that good little girls go to heaven when they die. We were lied to. Death is just the beginning.

In the place of waiting, between blood and dust, there is a collector. A foul, vicious man that squats in the darkness between, waiting for strong, courageous spirits to cross. Some succeed. Those who don’t end up in a clay jar on one of his shelves, forced into service.

I never believed it, myself. I was always taught that those who did not serve Christ were wrong. That evil ones would be crushed under His mighty heel. How laughable. I get it now that the creator, whoever he/she/it is, allows everything. There are no rules left. We’re ants in an insane zoo that’s been left unattended for bigger and better toys.

The boy is weeping now. He’ll die slowly if nobody calls for help. I am to stay in the house until he dies and then return to my taskmaster.

These are the terrible errands that I’m sent on now. There is a dark thread between me and the wicked devil that chuckles in the firelight, demanding my obeisance. I can almost feel his clawed fingers dancing against the surface of the jar housing my spirit as he whispers to it, his voice dry and cracking.

There are other phantoms, lost and wandering here, in this house. Some are locked in frustration, unable to move on for whatever reason. Others try to watch over the family; relatives long dead. There’s little to nothing they were able to do against me. The family had made a conscious choice to believe that dead was dead; that nothing existed beyond the flesh.

Pity.

If they’d propitiated their ancestors, given them respect and lifted them, they would’ve been able to keep me out of the house.

I can already see the spectral outlines of the father and mother, standing beside me, frowning as they watch their little boy die. No fear, no anger; just confusion and sadness. There’s nothing they can do to help.In the first year after crossing lies the time of only resting and learning. Neither of them looks tormented, so they’ll probably make it across – if they hurry.

I open my mouth to warn them but a savage jolt crashes into my body and my mouth slams shut. I can feel impotent tears coming but they never fill my eyes.
The boy’s parents fade away and I am relieved. I can feel anger ring through the connection to my dark keeper at the lost opportunity.

‘It isn’t my fault they’ve gotten away, you rotten…’, my thoughts trail off as I realize that he’ll punish me anyway. It’s what he does.

And then he’ll send me out again. Until I’m all used up.

My family has forgotten me. There is nobody left to release me.

I am in hell.

© Copyright Jhada Addams 2012

TRAVELOG: The Museum of Jurassic Technology

Hidden behind a small green door off Venice Boulevard in Culver City, California, the Museum of Jurassic Technology is a deceptively large space. The front door opens into a well lit gift shop that leads back into the depths of the darkened museum itself. The entrance fee is $8 for adults, $5 for students.

Beyond the gift shop lies a bizarre maze of quirky, odd displays shrouded in mostly darkness with patches of low lighting directly hitting the information placards and displays themselves. It was difficult at times to see the other patrons as they wandered through, checking out the various installments, which almost made you felt like you were somewhere you shouldn’t be, creeping around behind the scenes of a much larger production. At times, when I was trying to find the other members of my party, my head would construct this mini fantasy wherein I was being chased throughout the museum, unable to find a way out. It was delightfully creepy and pleasantly unsettling.

[more here]

I just realized that I didn’t post about the San Juan Islands. Unfortunately, the plan to hit the San Juan islands was kind of a dud, and I’m still kinda bummed about it. I did get to run around a little bit, which was lovely – because the area is completely gorgeous, but ended up breakin’ out for Oregon earlier than intended due to car issues. The transmission started acting up again, which was very stressing – but thank goodness, ended up being a cheap, quick fix.

Friday night, I checked out Deception Pass Bridge. It’s a fairly impressive bridge, coupled with the Canoe Pass bridge, that links Whidbey Island to Fidalgo Island. Lots of tourists walk along the span of the bridge, taking pictures and checking out the scenery. There are walkways along the two lane bridge that allow for safe passage and the only way for pedestrians to cross is to take the stairs and go beneath it…

TRAVELOG: Unstable geology and a Museum of Death

Over the weekend, my gracious hosts took me out to Portuguese Bend out in Palos Verdes. It’s apparently the most geologically unstable portion of land in the US. As we drove along a road that seemed to be comprised mostly of patches due to the many geologic shifts and slides, my friend pointed out the large metal water pipe running along the roadside aboveground. I was told that the ground shifts often enough that there are teams that wait for a shift, then rush out to fix the water pipes. It’s startling how many enormous mansions are built throughout the area. It’s also home to the Trump National Golf Club course. The area is an interesting mix of native vegetation and the overstated, lush and verdant landscaping that the well-to-do have clustered around their enormous houses…

[more here]