Shadow Play

Dear Dame Wotta,
I'm writing for your valuable advice because I have become convinced that you are the only person who can help and understand me.

The trouble I'm having is with my shadow. Over the years it seems to have gathered more and more intelligence until finally, it has a will of its own.

It started one fine evening as I was walking home from a night with my friends at the local watering hole. As I was lurching down the street I noticed out of my peripheral vision that my shadow wasn’t 'in sync' with me any more. I stopped dead in my tracks and noticed a definite lag with my shadow stopping, as if it was taken by surprise. I put it through some tests, running, stopping abruptly, darting backwards, leaping forwards, until people started crossing the road to get away from me. I must admit smelling of booze, I could see their point.

Anyway I digress. The point is my shadow wasn’t up to the task, it just didn’t keep up. Finally completely tiring of the game it stopped trying to humor me and shot me the finger and went and sat down on a park bench, casually crossing its legs as it did so. I sallied forth and joined it where we sat in uncomfortable silence for some time, neither of us wanting to break the ice.

After about an hour of this the beer I'd drank began to take its toll and nature beckoned. There was a wooded area close by and I got up and wandered into the bush to answer the call. I dropped to a crouch as I lowered my undies, and just as I was about to experience relief, I saw my shadow mockingly crouching nearby, and I swear it was shaking with silent laughter.

That did it; I leaped on it and tussled with it, which was somewhat difficult because it had no substance. I dived after it as it turned to flee, completely forgetting that I had my unmentionables around my ankles, and went head first into a bed of nettles knocking myself out cold on a large hidden tree stump.

This was how the authorities found me later on, my underwear around my ankles, my head and face swollen to twice its normal size, stinking of booze. Sadly they had spoken to some passerby’s who had described my leaping backwards and forwards and yelling the occasional triumphant shout (as the shadow failed to match my move) for no apparent reason that they were aware of, and I had been designated lunatic status.

I tried to explain about my shadow but somehow that seemed to make things worse.

I had never been in a paddy wagon before. They’re not very comfy and on the way we stopped to pick up some female, who unlike myself was truly a lunatic, as big as a Mac truck and twice as dangerous looking. Apparently it had been involved in some bar brawl.

As we sat in the lurching wagon opposite each other on benches, my shadow put in an appearance, it was sitting next to the bar brawler thumbing its nose at me. “You asshole!” I yelled through my swollen lips. The Mac trucks gaze focused on me.

I don’t remember landing on the floor, but the rest of the night was an incredibly painful blur with needles, antiseptic smells and being wheeled around a lot.

Dame Wotta, this was the first of many difficult evenings, as my shadow is a complete and utter shit! It delights in getting me in terrible trouble and I have already done a couple of stints in the ‘funny farm’ because of it. Nobody believes me, and I can’t seem to stop reacting to it and letting it goad me into the most terrible situations.

How do I get rid of it, what must I do, please, I beg of you, advise me?

Ms Dowash
Sunnyvale Rest Home


My Dear Ms Dowash,
I certainly do believe you. Your shadow can only be behaving independently for a very few reasons, none of them good.

Your shadow may have become loosened after a severe shock. This does not entirely excuse its crude hand signals, however. Have you done anything to harm, scare or shock it, even if advertently? A shadow with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is not a pretty sight.

Worse still, it may have been bribed or coerced by an undesirable spirit, in which case you may suffer a partial soul loss. To get it back, you will have to prepare an acceptable offer, a counter-bribe of magnificent proportions. In other words, you will have to trick it. Write to me privately and I will send you a list of my prices for tricks.

I recall a case where a man in Ireland was out walking in lonely hill country. He sat against a rock and rested for a while. After a few minutes he began to hear haunting music so he got up and looked around for the source. Finding nothing he stood uncertainly looking at the view, half in a trance, the music faint but audible still. Suddenly a movement on the ground beneath him caught his eye. Looking down, he saw to his horror a little man playing music on the pipes while an equally vertically challenged lady was carefully cutting around his shadow with a tiny pair of golden scissors. Yelling with shock and fear he leaped around, scaring the two shadow-thieves’s who ran away leaving the evil deed unfinished. Although this man was very ill and weak for some months he eventually recovered completely. My point is that shadows are far more vulnerable, and sometimes more dangerous, than most humans realize.

Some shadows are just plain bloody evil and need a good kick up the arse. If this is the case with yours, I advise you to stop drinking alcohol, as this will irritate and inflame the shadow, causing its behavior to worsen. It will need obedience lessons.

In the scatological literary masterpiece ‘Winnie The Pooh’, Piglet, a poorly adapted young swine, becomes friendly with his shadow while feeling neglected by his own pals. After his friends take notice of him once more, this quisling porker immediately and callously drops his shadow-self, which promptly leaves him. His sterling friends unwisely offer their own shadows as replacements, but after all it’s not necessary as he is happily reunited with his own, although not before the end of the chapter, if I recall.

The worse-case scenario, of course, is that you are of the type of Vampyre strain that acts most physically in this world. If this is the case then there is little hope for you. Once the double is awakened there will be no way to stop it without the intervention of One Who Walks Two or Three Worlds. I may be able to put you in contact with someone, but there are no guarantees. It’s possible that your shadow will escalate from taunting you to committing heinous crimes, such as the ritual strangulation of victims. Take heart, though! Your shadow will never cause you yourself any real danger. Its influence will end at your own life’s ending, as it relies totally on you for its ability to act independently. It will never risk your life, and it may yet be useful in alerting you to feeding opportunities should this prove to be the case and your Vampyre genetics begin to kick in as they so often do in these sad cases.

I myself rarely cast a shadow, but the Tarot often. If you find you need specialized assistance please write to me privately as I can help unravel the cause for you. I must say I admire your courage under such difficult circumstances!

Best of Fortune,
Dame Wotta Tripp

Amazing Fortune At Bus Stop!

Dear Dame Wotta Tripp,
For quite some time I have been the subject of alien abduction. Usually it takes place while I am waiting at the bus stop.

A Turkish man with a big walrus mustache draws up on a green tandem racing bicycle, places me on the rear saddle, and pedals off at tremendous speed out of the town and into the countryside, and down a long trail into the heart of the forest, where he carries me into a tiny cottage with diamond windows and a thatched roof.

I am placed on a chair at the table where I am forced to eat delicious sandwiches with the crusts removed, pastries, jellies, trifle, seasonal fresh fruit, and am made to drink at least two cups of five-minute tea out of fine china. Then I remember nothing more until I find myself back at the bus stop, without any apparent time lapse.

What can all this mean? I can't take it much longer.
Marina.


Dear Marina,
I do not wish to upset you further than my minimum requirements, you foolish child, but it should be obvious even to one of average stunted intelligence exactly what is occurring here.
I find it difficult to believe the young lady who wrote the coherent letter above could also be so poorly educated in such very basic ways. Did you perhaps grow up in a secluded institution? I sincerely hope you haven’t been indoctrinated into the decadent ways of religion. It takes some people years to undo the damage and learn to think for themselves once more.

My job, however, is not to criticize overly, but to enlighten where appropriate.

You have received a genuine proposal of marriage from the world of Faery. This would necessarily include induction into a breeding program, not as a common human wet-nurse, understand, but as a wife.

This is a permanent position that I would advise any mortal to take, if only for the experience, and if you follow the simple rules you will not only survive but prosper, and your offspring after you.

Although I would advise you to accept this offer anyhow, in your case you have no decision left to make as you have accepted food and eaten it whilst visiting.

To accept food in the Otherworld usually results in a binding contract in which you have no longer any choice. You have not only accepted food but apparently been gorging down huge binful’s of the stuff indiscriminately. They must be amazed at your capacity for rapaciously putting away the comestibles. It is alarming.

The following list represents just a few of the benefits a marriage of this type brings:

• Secure position (* as long as no taboos are broken)
• Prime real estate in enchanted situations (*)
• An inordinately long life (*)
• Perfect health (*)
• Riches, luxuries and fantastic apparel (*)
• Amusements of every conceivable sort (*)
• Good music, all the time (*)
• Excellent catering, as you have described (*)
• Unusual animal companions and cats with six to eight toes on each foot (*)
• Celebrations and feasting with seasonal moves to new quarters (*)
• Excitement and unusual hunting opportunities (*)
• A fascinating partner (*)
• The opportunity to forge better relations between humans and faeries (*)

What more could a girl want? These terms seem very reasonable to me, and as in your particular case you have little choice.
I suggest you say goodbye to your family (that includes any husbands you may have as all contracts made with other mortals are now null and void) and prepare to enjoy! You very lucky girl!
You don’t need to pack, everything will be provided, and you may occasionally catch glimpses of your previous family and friends through the apparatus provided. That can be quite amusing as you watch them searching high and low for you from your new exalted position. If only they knew!

Please let me know how you are getting on. You may deliver your message to me in a variety of manners, including via wild honey bee, nightjar or blackbird.

Next time you visit, simply look up at the Faery Lord who has selected you (possibly in indiscriminate haste and without checking your background thoroughly) while having tea, thank him for his overwhelmingly kind attention, and ask him for the privilege of baring his Faery children. You will not have to return home again, as long as no taboos are broken. If this does occur, you will find yourself back home. You will barely have time to recognize how unfamiliar the surroundings are ( several hundred years may have passed) before you crumble to dust. Not a bad way to go, altogether.

Good Fortune,
Wotta Tripp!

Very Poorly, But I Can Help!

Dear Readers,
It’s been brought to my attention that someone you may be familiar with is very poorly and in special need of my assistance. He has in fact called for it, and I am more than happy to oblige. I have discussed with his highly specialized team of psychotherapists at length his shaky mental grip on reality and we have between us come to a decision that will have far-reaching effects.

I will not name him here (it's a few lines down), but have assured him I will immediately book a hefty portion of the next 5 years off to help him, as he so obviously needs it, and I can’t bear to think of all that talent going to waste, what with the chemical sniffing, and all.

I’ve worked out a three-step-program that will improve his attitude (he’ll tell you after reading this that his name is Ethan, but he’s hiding someone) and keep him happy, especially through those difficult first weeks. Just a very little surgery combined with the correct healthful diet and exercise regime, early nights and limited access to contraband should do the trick and return him to some semblance of health. I don’t want anyone to worry, for I believe he’ll be similar to good as new in no time.

The word trepan has it’s origins in the Greek word, trupanon, meaning ‘borer’.

Now most people who hear this imagine this word has to do with the boring of a hole in the skull, but in actuality it refers to the nick-name given to people who had undergone the trepanning procedure, survived, and lived to tell about it at fashionable Greek parties. It was in fact all they could talk about, as surgery was frequently the last and only thing they remembered at all.

It seems that he almost certainly needs immediate emergency surgery to release the pressure from the brain and let out the demons and other possessing entities. Things have changed since the brave days of Ancient Greece. I now provide ear-muffs and nearly always use local anesthetic instead of Magical Passes and hypnosis alone. Also, this time he may remember a bit.

This will also serve to stop him from being funny, but that’s something that cannot at this point be helped. I can hardly allow it to limit or in any way interfere with my own rising star, can I? One has to remain focused. Of course, that’s not why I’m offering to help him anyway. I care, I really do. He’ll still be able to draw some amusement at parties, I’m sure (his name is really Lobo, and that’s the one we’re actually going to be operating on), but he may be a bit wobbly with the pen for quite some time. It’s my wish that everyone will carry on reading his blogs, even as they continue to deteriorate, to affirm your ongoing support and hope for the future.

I would also like all of you who know him to shave your heads as a show of solidarity, and email him photo’s of your new look. It’s a small thing to ask, isn’t it? I believe it will cheer him in his hour of need.

I will inform all his fans and well-wishers of the time and date of the surgery. They will be given an option to join a very special prayer list, protected by a unique password and giving access to an extremely precise set of words that must be repeated aloud rhythmically and over and over exactly when and as I instruct. Write to me privately, darlings.

You can read this person’s crazed ranting by clicking the creepy orange link below, but I advise extreme caution. If you must, get it now, while it lasts, before I put a stop to it for ever!

Predator Press