SixAndViolets

ah well

here are some pictures of skulls and things

enjoy them

also, happy halloween

expect an influx of death note-related art soon. i've been reading it. i get why everyone likes it now.

Firstly, a list of things that I hate with the passion of a thousand Francises:

- Homestuck
- Glee
- The Biggest Loser
- Having to consume foods close to their use-by date due to floods and shit
- Having to touch, smell and be in the same house as foods close to their use-by date
- The passion of a thousand Francises
- Francises
- The fact that my deodorant is broken and I can't be bothered to buy a new one and hence I smell like a German
- The stress of finding a male name for use in "extreme situations"
- My habit of always hitting the Windows Media Centre button with my elbow, causing it to open and make me scream because I always automatically assume it's the blue screen, ready to claim another victim
- The possibility that my mutant gerberas will, at some point, die
- School
- School
- School
- Being 17
- School
- Being stressed


Also, I'm stressed! I don't even have words for how stressed I am. So instead of working on this huge assignment presentation on the history of anti-Semitism like I should be, I'm writing a fanfiction instead! Heck, I might even post it here soon. Also, I'm going to be brushing up on my Deutsch because I'm going to Berlin in 2013! This is very exciting.

Please place suggestions as to what my male name should be in the comments section. Or don't. Whatever.

I would like, if I may, to turn your attention now to a little ghost story.

There isn't a single country in the world without at least one dark secret. It is entirely in the nature of humankind that amongst the great achievements, the stunning architecture, the rich mythology, and so forth, that a civilisation will at some point act - or be forced to act - in a way which paints that dark spot on its history. And our planet is full of them; these black marks, wounds upon the surface and deeper that will never heal. A lot of people call them thin places. A little more on that later.

Think back to history class. Bring up everything you know about the plagues of the 1500s; think of festering sores, of rats, of beaked porcelain plague masks. Think of cities losing half their population to disease. Think fear, suspicion, desperate measures. Now listen closely.

Poveglia - silent "g" - is a little island situated in the lagoon of Venice. It's small, inhabited by a few farmers - wine growers, mainly, who find that the unique soil of the island produces a more successful crop.

On Poveglia, 50% of the soil is human ash.

Why? Well, during the plague years, Poveglia was used as a quarantine station for plague victims and suspected plague victims during the Black Death. "Quarantine station" is just a nice way to say "mass grave". An approximate 160 000 people, the dead, dying and simply supposedly infected living, were buried on Poveglia. When the grave pits became too full - and they did, as during the plague the island would quickly become inundated with the infected - the bodies were burned to allow for more room.

This is an island where thousands of people were sent to die amongst pre-existing piles of corpses; where fishermen are afraid to trawl in case of netting human remains. So it's really no surprise that it's reported to be a site of ghostly activity.

A "thin place" is an area in which the barrier separating the world of the living from that of the dead is at its thinnest. Places such as this are supposedly characterized by reports of ghostly lights, voices, movement and other unexplained phenomena; by mists, screams and the curious clouding of thoughts experienced by those inhabiting the area - the way in which the energies of the dead may sway the thoughts of the living.

It is suggested, therefore, that Poveglia, the Island of No Return, has buried its secrets closer to hell than is safe for those on the surface, and that the long-dead may still hold power over the actions of the living. And that's only half of the story.


Article to be continued.

Murderous.

Also, sorry I couldn't be there for you. Won't happen again.