95 – Bloody Mary, Full of Grace

Another little something in the universe of Sects. I haven’t gotten too deep into the metaphysics of this setting, and probably won’t for a while, but the basic operating principle is that the eldritch invaders that have taken over the world respond to belief. A sufficient amount of emotional investment, commitment, faith directed at anything will, in effect, turn it into a tiny god. And I do mean anything. The cult of rejects at the heart of our story worships a taxidermied cat, and gives regular sacrifices to the router when the internet fails.

In a world where the strength and purity of your conviction determines the power you can manifest, children are powerful all out of scale with their size. Children’s belief is pure, thoughtless, as sharp and unstoppable as a diamond knife. I’ve seen it in this world as well as the one I’m drawing – if you ever did any playground magic as a kid, you’ve seen it too. It works when you believe completely that it will. The Ouija board may be a joke to adults, but when you were twelve, I’ll bet it told you things nobody there knew. If you’re the kind of kid who was jaded enough to actually say “Bloody Mary” into a dark mirror, just to prove how cool and unaffected you were, revel in your joyless little life, because you suck. Mary doesn’t give a shit about your cynicism; she only shows up if you believe in her.

“Bloody Mary,” November 2019

When all that matters is what you believe
children and madmen will hold all the crowns,
summoning goddesses out of the ground –
their congregations don’t have time to grieve.

Try to remember the words they taught you,
like “light as a feather, stiff as a board,”
rituals on bathroom mirrors, chalkboards.
Watch out Bloody Mary doesn’t spot you!

One of the first to answer our call,
Mary was glad to get out of the glass.
Plenty of vengeance saved up from her past,
plenty of straight pins to stick in this doll.
In the end, we barely had to ask –
she didn’t need convincing to kill them all.

Check out the rest of the 100 Sonnets

93 – The Necromancer Next Door

Getting a huge tattoo in about an hour and a half, so of course I’m brooding about zombies. This definitely is part of Sects, which, if I haven’t beaten you over the head with it hard enough yet, is a Primer for those also just trying to get through a day in a world that has been taken over by tentacled monstrosities.

Before the Fall he was just a con man,
made his living on the life insurance
of families wanting reassurance –
being proved right was not part of the plan.

But there was no sense of surprise, no fear
when after a seance the deceased spouse
turned up in his collar outside the house –
the dead Reverend made his terror quite clear.

The faithful came first, a reverse Rapture,
and then came the saints, all girded for war,
died again when the outsiders attacked.
Nothing like the ghosts he’d manufactured,
nothing like the nightmares he had before –
the dead he raises now don’t want life back.

Check out the rest of the 100 Sonnets