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Sisters of the Moon
Surveillance video from the North Residence...
Every year, mom gathers our sisters inside of our home to feel out the spiritual energy for the upcoming Samhain holiday. Mostly, we drink liquor while mom looks into a glass ball, trying to make sense of the reflections. It’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds, but it’s become a bit of a tradition for us. We gather in the study, around a large black table with a pentagram drawn in pure sea salt, candles at each of the five points. It is my job to light the burdock and bramble leaves, so I grind them together in a stone mortar bowl as my ginger sister, Thistle, begins to recite the protection chant.
Thistle: We trust in the protection of our coven through spirit, body, and mind as we now hold a shield unlike any other kind. Our aura is strong with white light defined from our divine energy and spirit combined… Celeste! You’re not in sync with our energy, sister.
Me: Does it even fucking matter, Thistle? I’m just here for the Cognac anyway.
Raven: Yeah!
Thistle’s mother, Raven, the mature, buxom, raven haired bombshell of the group raises her glass, clinking it with mine as we laugh. Agatha and my mother look at us disappointedly, but I just shrug my shoulders. It’s not like they are gonna do anything about it anyway.
Mom: Peaches, this is serious. Take a deep breath, find your center, and then join us. Do you need to smoke something…?
Me: Yeah, because a recovering drug addict who is just returning to her job that drug tests regularly should smoke a bowl to get centered… Thanks mom.
Agatha: You sound like such a conservative, homophobic republican right now. You really do need to align your body better to stop the constipation of blood flow to your brain.
Me: For fuck’s sake, Aggie! If I was ever going to do that, I would do it when I wasn’t around people who already make me want to rip their heads off. Sorry bout it…
Everyone in the room gasps as they turn to me. They stare at me as if I had just said my first word, glancing at each other to see if I’d say “mama” again or some lame shit. I roll my eyes as I continue to grind the bramble leaves together.
Mom: That Delia is such a sweetheart. I’m so glad that she’s starting to rub off on you.
Raven: Where is she, anyway? Didn’t you invite her?
Me: You mean the inspiration for Billy Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young”? Yeah, I’m sure she is just dying to come to a Wiccan spiritual ceremony…
Delia: Ugh, yaaasssssss! Hey witches!
I freeze. I admit it. I did not expect her to show up. I purposely didn’t tell her about tonight, instead telling her that my mother and I were going to a thrift shop to look for deals on 80’s plaid skirts. Yet, her voice lets me know that she’s not as dumb as she looks. At least until I turn around. Standing there, Delia is dressed in the most offensive outfit I could have ever imagined. Her skin is gently painted green. Her hair is raggedly feathering out from under her black pointy hat. She is wearing a tattered black robe thing, revealing a bikini bottom, fishnet stockings, and hooker boots. I about died here, because… well look at it!
Me: That’s… just…
Mom: Gorgeous! How inspired. You haven’t lost your step since you left the runway, hunty.
Me: Mom? Don’t. And Delia? That’s just…
Raven: I need you to design my next ceremonial gown. It’s just so ingenious.
My mouth hangs ajar as I stare. I mean, look at her! She’s dressed up, not just as a witch. Not just as a bad witch of the black arts, but as a Disney version of what is fucked up about eclectic witches in today’s society. Not only all of that, but she’s a slutty wicked witch of the west! And my sisters are eating it up!
Me: Am I the only one who finds this extremely offensive?
Agatha: Pull the stick out of your ass, Celeste. She looks stunning.
Me: Fine! Then I’m being a slutty Mother Theresa for Halloween!
Delia: I swear I’m working on her wi’s what is good taste, and what is bad taste. It’s a work in progress.
Everyone in the group nods their heads as they look at me. I get pissed off at the idiocy, and before I know it, the herbs are ground to almost a powder. I push it away from me as I look over to Delia.
Me: Are you fucking serious?
Delia: Why, whatever do you mean, darling?
Me: You can’t seriously be that vapid. This is offensive! It’s not even Halloween. It’s like you dressed up like this to mock us, and apparently I’m the only one who sees that. You play the idiot on screen, but I know better than that.
Delia: An idiot? I play nos’ing of z’e sort! I have an intelligence quotient of one hundred and forty-five. I am practically a genius. However, I do not understand your religion. When your mos’er invited me over, I looked at it as a chance to learn. If my outfit is offensive, I will leave...
I shake my head as I look over at her. Playing the drama queen as always. She even stands up from the table, smoothing out her dress as she pushes her chair in toward the table. I shrug my shoulders, letting her throw her little fit.
Mom: Ohhh, Delia. Please don’t go.
Thistle: Yeah! We’re glad to have you here. It isn’t often that people ask to learn about what we do. You have such a positive attitude, and frankly, we could use that here tonight, in this circle.
Me: Gee, thanks for that. I guess that makes me the cousin that everyone just tolerates because they feel like they have to instead of being a sister. Whatever…
I pull a long match stick from my satchel and I place it to the flame of the center candle. It ignites, and I close my eyes as I bring it down to the herbs in the bowl. Much to my surprise, they burst into flames, nipping at my hand as I retract it with a pained hiss. Everyone looks over at me, as if accusing me of doing something wrong. I just take a deep breath as I look over to Thistle.
Thistle: We trust in the protection of our coven through spirit, body, and mind as we now hold a shield unlike any other kind. Our aura is strong with white light defined from our divine energy and spirit combined. Thanks be to Gaia, Moon Goddess, Mother Earth.
Everyone: Thanks be to Gaia, Moon Goddess, Mother Earth, for it is by your…
The lights in the room flicker out, as a chilling breeze rolls throughout the completely closed off room. Delia gasps as she looks around. Besides me, everyone else looks around in excitement. Maybe it is because I’ve dealt with this exact feeling before, and they haven’t. My body tenses up as I lean over the table, looking for the protection from the harmful spirits.
Everyone Else: … for it is by your protection that we gather here tonight.
Female Voice: You filthy tree witches, insignificant as an ant.
We all look around, but we see nothing. The light of the candles burns brightly, like we don’t even need light. The wind is so cold that it lets us all know that this is not just a draft coming through the house, but something malevolent. Delia, however, doesn’t pick up on it as she leans back in her seat and claps her hands.
Delia: Marvelous! Z’e special effects are to die for.
Female Voice: If you do not quiet down, you will be more right than you could ever imagine…
The wind dies down, but the air is so cold that we can see our breath. I notice that Delia is all smiles, taking it in as if it were all part of the show. She slaps the table, breaking the salt circle in the process. My blood runs cold as my eyes roll into the back of my head. According to the security tape, I had a seizure, but I remember nothing of the sort. I felt as if I had been transported to another place. Everything is a shade of red. The rickety wrought iron fence surrounding a small plot of land that looks as if the most vile of spirits would refuse to set foot upon. The house appears to be up on stilts, glowing from behind the glow of a wicked blood moon. I can’t stop myself from walking up to the fence. The gate creaks open slowly as I find myself staring up at the house, hearing the screams of children from inside. As I look up, I notice the stilts are actually chicken-like legs. They bend at the knee as the house lowers down to the ground. I step onto the stoop and enter to find a rather pleasant appearance to the decor. Aside from the cat skeletons hanging from the ceiling, I can’t help but notice the candy coated accents. I know I should be freaking out right now, but I’m not.
Female Voice: Welcome to my humble abode, Celeste. I’ve been trying to reach out to you for some time now.
Me: Baba Yaga…
Baba: In the flesh… so to speak. Have a seat. Dinner will be ready shortly.
The horrified screams of the children come to a slow stop as the wretched smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils. Baba Yaga takes a long, hard smell, savoring the scent as it fills her nose. She looks over to me, nodding her head.
Baba: I’m happy that you’ve accepted my invitation.
Me: Fuck you… Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? How can you be stupid enough to think that I would buy this act? You’re not happy to see me, because me and my coven have been a thorn in your side for almost a year now.
Baba Yaga tilts her head back, cackling as if I had told her the funniest joke she’s ever heard. She looks directly at me, those cold dead eyes pinning me down into the chair behind me. I struggle to fight it, but there is no coming back from this one.
Baba: A mud witch is no match for me. Dancing underneath the full moon and burning bramble leaves could never stop me. You merely slowed me down a little. I wanted to give you the option to save your friend, because I can no longer stave off the Boogeyman…
Me: It’s obvious that you’re going to kill me, so why the fuck don’t you just get it over with? Don’t act like you’re on my side, when it’s clear that you detest me and my kind.
Baba: You have me all wrong. When your ginger friend overdosed on opium earlier this year, it was I who purged the poison from blood. I could never detest you, but never compare yourself to the others. You are not like them. You are simply inexperienced.
What the fuck is she talking about? I stare at her, but she purposely doesn’t elaborate on it Instead, she lifts her tea cup to her lips, made of a small skull, containing Goddess only knows what. I struggle a bit to get free from her grip, but she finally gives in and allows me my freedom, even if only to show me that she can.
Baba: I’m willing to share my bountiful supper with you as a peace offering. I only wish to unlock the power that you hold inside. The power of the true Salem tribe, bestowed upon you from your father’s side, inadvertently nurtured by your mother’s hand.
Me: What are you talking about? That dirty, potato-eating, Irish prick didn’t give me anything but a tendency to become easily addicted to booze and dope.
Baba: His bloodline is pure, even if his spirit is not. You don’t need to prance around, proclaiming “Blessed be” and “Thank you, Mother” to harness your power. You can have… everything. Everything that you have ever wanted… everything that you have ever dreamed of. The darkest, most hidden desires, can all be yours. All you have to do is take it. I would gladly help you along the way, and your friend would be safe from Brother Grimm, who is quickly closing in on him as we speak, held off only by my own cloaking powers.
Me: I would never… ever give in to the darkness.
Baba sets her cup down on the table in front of her as she clasps her hands together in her lap. She smiles, but it is anything but calming to me.
Baba: Not even to save your friend?
Me: You can’t put that shit on me! I’ve given up so much to protect Tim, but what you are asking me is where I have to draw the line.
Baba: Are you sure?
I can feel my bones twisting inside of my body. I groan in agony, trying to hide my pain from Baba Yaga, but she sees it. She relishes in it, as a matter of fact. Despite that, I nod my head slowly, letting her know that I will not bend to her will… mentally at least.
Baba: Suit yourself… your dinner invitation has been revoked…
And with that, the pain stops, shy of a splitting headache as my eyes roll back down to look around the room. I can’t talk as everyone gathers around me, checking to see if I’m alright. I stutter, but nothing comes out other than a bunch of strange noises. Delia has her arms around me, cradling my head against her chest.
Mom: Peaches, are you alright, honey?
Thistle: What did you see, Celeste?
Delia: You will need to give her some space. It appears she has just had a grand mal seizure. I guess I’ll have to call z’e groundskeepers and tell z’em my surprise House On Haunted Hill dinner party has been cancelled. If you see a pit of acid in z’e basement? It’s real. Do not fall inside…
Me: Buh-buh-but ih-ih-ih-ih-it’sssssssss not eeeeeev-v-ven your h-h-h-h-h-h-h-howwwwwwssss-ssss-ssse….
Delia lays me out on the floor as everyone gathers around me to check on me. It felt nice to see that these people actually have my back, but it does little to comfort me after the encounter with Baba Yaga. What exactly did she mean by that? I’ve been asking myself that ever since Wednesday night...
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A Chance at Glory
#NP "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon
Ultimate Terror Scream Park; Sacramento, California
Outrageous. I hate crowds, and this is no different. I’d much rather walk through a cemetery and chat with the dead, than stand in a line of hundreds of people to get chased around by a bat creature, or a demented tooth fairy with a rubber pick axe. But, Delia says that this would definitely capture people’s attention. After rave reviews from last week’s promo, I can’t see a good reason not to trust her on this. I mean, aside from the fact that she’s Delia FUCKING Darling, of course. True to my word, I dressed up as a slutty nun, which essentially means a habit, a set of rosary beads, fishnets, hooker boots, and a bikini. The looks of horror spread across the faces of the masses is hysterical to me. Delia, however, learned her lesson, as she is instead dressed up like a slutty scarecrow, using the blacktop as her runway in her editorial look. As much as she hates to admit it, I’m stealing the show, between the disgusted looks, and the cat calls.
Delia: I’m sorry, but I am not interested. I’m abstaining from dating, s’ank you…
Random Man: We’re not whistling at you! We’re whistling at Our Lady of Perpetual Pole Waxing!
Delia: I appreciate your attempt at protecting my dignity, but seriously…. Come on, now…
Delia waves her hand down her body, showing it off like a cool drink of water to a thirsty man. However, I make a jerking motion with my arm as I take the compliment. My friend Fabianna walks up to us, dressed as a slutty Waffle House waitress, with a fur-lined hood over her head.
Me: What’s with the hood?
Fabi: It’s October, duh… I’d get way too cold if I left it off.
Delia: Fabi, darling! You look *snap snap* sickening, darling.
Two airheaded models is just too much. I stare at them as they go on for like five minutes of loud, high pitched compliments? Maybe? It’s hard to tell. I spot “Stoner” Scott Oliver over in the corner, dressed up as a weed leaf. As much as it sickens me, his stupidity, and obviously poor hygiene kind of turns me on a little. I stare over at my two friends, but I decide I’d much rather do this alone. I approach Scott, as I slap the oversized ruler against the palm of my hand.
Me: Mr. Oliver! To the Dean’s office right now!
Scott: Whoa, what did I do now Sister Agnes?! I mean… sexy costume, sha…
I can’t help but laugh as he tries to play it off cool. I step up next to him as the cameraman gets ready to record. Scott looks me up and down, nodding his head with a sly smile on his face as he readies his microphone.
Cameraman: Aaaand… we’re rolling.
Scott: Sup Sin City Wrestling fans? It’s me, Scott Oliver. I’m standing here with the sexiest nun alive, Celeste North. Christian Underwood announced last week on Climax Control that there was gonna be a match to fill the SCW Bombshell Roulette Championship at the Halloween show this Sunday, at this very location. I can’t remember where we are, because I had a little too much, um… yeah. But we’re standing in it right now. Some theme park with haunted houses and shit. Oh, and lots of creepy fuckers running around.
Me: For those of you who don’t understand Shaggy speak, we’re inside Ultimate Terror Scream Park here in Sacramento, California, voted scariest haunted house in California.
Scott: Yeah, what she said.
Scott nods his head for kind of a long time as I smirk, waiting for him to catch up with me here. It takes a moment, but eventually he gets there. He clears his throat as he looks around, showing off the attractions to the fans watching, before turning back to me.
Scott: Oh, yeah! And Celeste is one of the five luscious ladies who will be fighting for that very title here in Sacramento. Some people are saying that you haven’t earned this title shot. How do you feel about being given a title shot so soon after returning?
Me: Am I surprised? Yeah, a little. I was gone for so long. I’ve had one match since I returned to SCW. Do I believe that I don’t deserve it? Fuck no, I don’t! In my time with SCW, I never once received a title shot, and I’ve beaten plenty of people who have gone on to get title shots, and be featured in Main Events, while I was rarely booked. It fueled my Nobodies fire, but I think the way I handled it showed the bosses that I was ready to step to the next level.
Scott: But… you said it yourself. You only had one match since your return.
Me: Against an SCW Hall of Famer in Amy Marshall. And I won! Again, I respect Amy Marshall. I look up to her, because she’s amazing. Yet, I defeated her, and she is involved in the match this week. I defeated her cleanly. I deserve to be in this match, and I’m glad that people finally see that I’m trying to be serious in my return to the ring. I’m going to give them no choice when I win the title on Sunday.
Scott and I begin to walk a little to show off the view. We can see where they are beginning to assemble the ring for the show in just a few days, and we can also see the fans who bought their VIP entry tickets for the entire weekend. Some are merely wearing their favorite star or bombshell shirts, while others are dressed up as their favorite. I’m fairly sure that I saw a bearded Delia Darling cheering at me as we walk by.
Scott: Speaking of Delia Darling over there, some people are saying that, like… you are relying too much on her, and that is why you are getting these title shots.
Me: Unfortunately, part of wrestling is who you associate yourself with. I came in here, wearing a black devil mask, under a hooded jacket, and once I removed the mask, I still carried the Nobodies banner proudly. Since they’ve pretty much disbanded, I was offered the chance to team up with a Women’s Wrestling Icon in Delia Darling. Part of that might come with perks from the upper management, I guess. But largely, it has nothing to do with relying on her, and everything to do with learning how to market myself better to get more attention, which in turn, is what I would imagine got me the title shot on Sunday. So, for those of you who are accusing me of selling out, I assure you that I haven’t started going to Mean Girls pajama parties, or kissing Delia Darling’s ass for extra pay and title shots. I don’t look good in pink.
We stop for a moment, resting in front of the barricades, blocking off the crowd from interrupting the ring crew and the stagehands as they prepare the area.
Scott: You would look good in anything, I bet. Now, Delia was known for being the Queen of trash talk. Would you care to drop a little truth bomb on your feelings about your opponents?
Me: She might be the Queen, but I’m much more raw. I won’t hide how I feel behind bullshit posturing. Polly Playtime… I honestly have no idea who this is. I mean, from what I understand, she’s had one match in SCW. If anyone should be accused of favoritism, or not having earned the title shot on Sunday, it should be Polly. From what I can tell, she hasn’t done shit in the wrestling world. Her biggest claim to fame is some local game show model who occasionally locks on a body scissors or head lock onto contestants. She attacked Amy Marshall, and suddenly she’s getting a shot at the Bombshell Roulette Championship? That doesn’t make sense.
Scott: I understand where you are coming from, but there’s other ways to look at it, I guess. How about Samantha Marlowe?
Me: Samantha doesn’t belong in this match, either. But for an entirely opposite reason. She’s way too qualified. As a matter of fact, the same could be said for Amy Marshall. Sam and Amy are amazing wrestlers, and they’ve accomplished so much in there time in SCW. Sam has won the World Bombshell Championship, and fought in some very grueling and epic matches. The Roulette Championships are to earn your way into the spotlight. These two ladies have already done that. Amy was one of the first Grand Slam Champions in SCW, and she sits in the Hall of Fame. She’s above this, but I’m happy to prove my worth by going through the likes of Sam Marlowe and Amy Marshall.
Scott looks me up and down again, so I pull the habit closely over my chest as I glare at him. He shrugs his shoulders and brings his stare to my face where it belongs.
Scott: Now Veronica Taylor…
I stop him right there, putting my hand in his face. Yeah, that’s totally a Delia move, and I see that now in hindsight. He creepily sniffs the perfume on my wrist, but it silences him enough for me to continue on.
Me: This is where the heat of this match really comes into play. This match should be a one-on-one between her and I. As much as I hate to admit it, she deserves to be in this match as the person Roxi beat before she vacated the title. But, the hatred we have for one another is enough to make this match worthy of being high up on the card. I’m ready to take her through hell and back to earn this title. At this point, Amy, Sam, and Polly are just a distraction, a challenge to me to get in the way of beating the fuck out of Veronica. She slammed a mirror over my head. She’s the reason I have to wear a pound of makeup to cover the stitches I had to get thanks to her. I’ll be paying her back sevenfold, trust me. I have Delia Darling on my side, and who knows Veronica better than Delia? I mean, she’s not the most complex personality in SCW, but somehow she’s made it to being a Bombshell Tag and Roulette Champion, so there must be just a little more to her than meets the eye.
Scott: What is it about Veronica that gets you so fired up? Why did you attack her when you made your return?
Me: She’s an arrogant idiot. She thinks she’s the hottest thing walking the earth, but she’s really a stone-faced beaver. She thinks that she’s the best wrestler in SCW, when she’s mediocre at best. I have a major issue with people who value themselves more than they should. Arrogance is something that I don’t take well to. Plus, she just asks for it. If ever there was someone in SCW that needs the shit kicked out of them, it is Veronica Taylor. She is the reason I stuck with The Nobodies for so long, because I was fighting that kind of culture here in SCW. I don’t feel like I have to any longer, but Veronica is still standing, so I can take her on head to head. I doubt anyone in this match has the nerve to get in the way of that. Either way, I will break Veronica Taylor this Sunday, live from the Ultimate Terror Scream Park in just a few days time.
Scott nods his head as he looks back to the camera.
Scott: You heard it here, folks! The match to fill the vacant Bombshell Roulette Championship is heating up! It will be interesting to see how this one plays out, live on Sunday, from… where ever we are. I’m Scott Oliver, signing off!
Cameraman: And cut...
Scott lowers his microphone as the camera stops rolling. He leans in as he begins to flirt with me, but that smell is just too much, almost like a wake up call. I walk away from him as I catch back up with Delia and Fabianna, who apparently didn’t even realize I was gone. We prepare to go inside of the 7 Deadly Sins themed Haunted House for a night of terror and screams...
