Attack of the Zombie Snowpersons!

You thought they were snowmen, didn't you?  Jolly happy souls, made of snow, who occasionally came to life.

And sure, some of those snowmen and snow-women you see are the jolly happy souls.

Then there are... the Un Dead.  The snowpeeps who are no longer among the living, who search for brains, who lose limbs and don't seem to notice or care.

Try the zombie checklist:

• Snowman zombies are undead. This means they used to be dead, but are somehow reanimated .

• Zombies don't walk.  They shuffle, slide, and roll. 

• Zombies generally have their arms outstretched.

• Zombies don't talk.  They do make sounds -- usually something like "Aaaaaangh!" or "Braiiiiiiiiiins!"

• Zombies wear dirty torn clothes, if they wear any clothes at all... like a castaway muffler or an old hat.

• Zombies are usually covered in blood.  Snowman zombies, having different circulatory systems and different eating habits, are covered in, well, snow.

• Zombies look like they're sick.  You know - kind of bloated, with little body definition.

• Zombies have dead expressions and vacant stares.  Their eyes might as well be two lumps of Kingsford charcoal.

• Zombies crave brains.  What do you think these are carrying in their hands?

• Zombies will get up after you run them over with your car.

 So what to do in case you meet up with a snowman zombie?

Best case scenario: Avoid the zombie in question. Failing that:

• Some say decapitation works best and will stop a zombie in his tracks.

• Cutting a zombie  into tiny pieces with some sort of chainsaw works, but in the case of snow and electrical chainsaws there can be electrocution problems.  A snow shovel should do the trick.

•  Hairdryer.

In any event, exercise caution and stay as far from the zombie snowperson as possible.  The further you are, the less likely you are to have an arm or leg ripped off your body.

Zombies will lunge at you if they think they have an open shot at your brains.  And on that subject, it is best to keep your head and brains covered.

The zombie snowmen in these earrings will actually protect you.  You see, each one is already carrying a brain.  So they won't need yours.  If other zombie snowmen see them, they will think the brains are YOUR brains, and move on to someone else.

These protection zombie snowmen are available on etsy.  Can you afford to be without them?

Things That Go Boo in the Night

From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

Traditional Scottish Prayer

~~~

From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go Boo in the night,
Bring 'em on!

Traditional Cornerstoregoddess Philosophy 

Boo is a friendly little guy.  You can tell by his toothy grin.  He's made of lampwork glass, created in Colorado at Silver Leaf Glass.  He is set off with sterling silver daisies and a  Swarovski crystal.   He dangles beneath a fire polish crystal.

His chain is handmade, as well, with fire polish crystals of orange and black wire-wrapped with sterling silver, onto sterling silver chain.  It closes with a Bali silver toggle clasp.

The chain is approximately 24" (60.96 cm) in length.  The Boo pendant drops approximately 1-1/2" 3.81 cm).

Boo Monster necklace is available in my etsy shop.

Just click the link!

Haunted

by Shel Silverstein



I dare you all to go into
The Haunted House on Howlin’ Hill,
Where squiggly things with yellow eyes
Peek past the wormy window sill.



We’ll creep into the moonlit yard,
Where weeds reach out like fingers,
And through the rotted old front door
A-squeakin’ on it hinges,
Down the dark and whisperin’ hall,
Past the musty study,
Up the windin’ staircase--
Don’t step on the step that’s bloody--



Through the secret panel
To the bedroom where we’ll slide in
To the ragged cobweb dusty bed
Ten people must have died in.




And the bats will screech,
And the spirits will scream,
And the thunder will crash
Like a horrible dream,
And we’ll sing with the zombies
And dance with the dead.




And howl at the ghost
With the axe in his head,
And--come to think of it what do you say
We go get some ice cream instead?

Ghosties and goblins and no ice cream here.

Quoth the Raven, Nevermore

"The Raven"

by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'



`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
'Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

The Bracelet

by Cornerstoregoddess

Raven illustrations by Gustave Doré