SESSION: MIDDLE OF AFTERNOON JANUARY 4TH
Oh spirit of Shirley Jackson! Writer of good horror! Come here, to this place, where I move the planchette in search of—
Shirley, is that you?!
oh, it is you!
really. it’s not even dark out.
you sound ridiculous. also, I’m just going to talk instead of spelling things out. you’ll get over it.
I know. That’s fine.
and you’re not even a writer, you’re a…what are you?
dear god. I got woken up for this.
I know. Terribly sorry.
so what do you want?
I wish I knew. I just really like your writing, and everything I’ve read about you.
Yeah. Also, I heard you were really into witchcraft, and read a lot about it, looking for the real thing, but you never found it. I’ve done a lot of reading about older witchcraft traditions and superstition, too, even though I’m not a believer or anything. Wicca is tiresome and the New Age stuff is boring.
on that we can agree.
Didn’t I read something about you trying to curse your neighbors once? That you also hid dolls and things in the walls for protection, like Merrikat in We Have Always Lived in the Castle?
haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.
Why do I feel like you’re winking?
Always knew I’d like you.
I guess I just feel lonely and weird sometimes. And I like, and would love to be better at, making people feel uncomfortable in my poems, in that slow, subtle way you did, that was funny and perfect and unsettling. You were so good at that. Also, I don’t like housecleaning, and I don’t think you did either.
god, no. though a lot of good story-making gets done over the sink.
I’m going to go back to sleep now.
Is that what being dead is like?
haven’t the foggiest.