Dark Magick Laughing Boujee Chase

The old house. I am here. In the rooms. In the yard. In the land. It is dusk. It is twilight. The sun sets, and night falls. I am alone. Momentarily, the air is filled with … presence.

A dreamy, chiming, magick presence … like faeries … like witches … like the fates and the muses of Dream. Presently there’re women, in the sky, beautiful ladies in all the air.

It is filled with their cackling, tinkling laughter and sounds of legerdemain. It is filled with a pins and needles apprehension, a feeling of unease and ill-will.

The ladies land and walk down my lane and come to my windows and stand by my gate. I run into the old house. I secure the windows. I secure the doors.

I hear knocking. I hear evil. I hear madness on the move. I feel it in the atmosphere. But they are new house windows. They are new house doors. Let the darkness and madness come.

I pull back the curtain of the front door and am greeted by two girls. They are boujee. They have boujee hair. Boujee eyes and noses and cheeks and faces. Boujee smiles on their boujee lips. Superior, spiteful, sweet.

They want into the old house. But I shall not let them. They try the side door by the drive way. Past the garage and all around. They try the back door by the yard. Past the old room and all around. They try the galvanized gate in the rusty metal paling. Past the old land and all around.

They try every entrance. Not one can be breached. We run around, back and forth, in and out, above and below, until it is done.