On the last night before demolition, Lucia keeps vigil in a candle-walled chapel, tending a haunted parish server stitched from years of recorded prayers. As storms and sisters close in, she must decide whether her firewall protects the church — or cages something holy. Gathering the Small Lights By the time
An intimate field guide to December's threshold, where Sagittarius fire meets Capricorn stone. Through resins, evergreens, metals, and feasts, it quietly teaches you to midwife vision into matter and let the season's Incarnation take root in your own body. Thresholds of the Incarnate: Weaving the Arrow
Under fluorescent altars and bone-lit flyovers, Christ-breath slips through data and concrete, tracing a promise into the dark. Let your heart lean in and follow the rest of this month’s unfolding current. December’s creative current: malls, firewalls, night buses & bones #ObscuraWednesday is a weekly creative aperture in
A silver shaft of moonlit longing slices the winter hush, tilting us from restless vow toward the rough hill where Love longs to take flesh in us. Feel shrouds thinning, time ripening, bones forming beneath desire; linger with the pages that follow. Month at a Glance — December 2025 Theme: Arrow
Breath beads on cold glass; flocks thread dusk like cathedral arches — this is the descent. Keep the symbols luminous, let salt and smoke do their older work, listen for roots to speak. Step across the threshold with a small flame — join the circle. What is #ObscuraWednesday? A weekly altar disguised
On a rain-lit Wednesday, clerks arrive with clipboards; the census thins the veil. Names bend weather, ink wakes the air, and the city leans close. Choose breath or signature — either way, an older ledger lifts its pen and writes you back. I — Threshold (Theory of the Knock) KNOCK — Wednesday hums
At a counter where postage costs memory, you speak into a glass jar and watch it bloom with salt-fog; below, your words are weighed against what you meant. The city carves you hollow to receive a message you do not yet know. I. Threshold (Counter) You stand at the counter
In a humming lab, a small sting turns protocol into rite: the instrument listens back. A lullaby threads the hiss; 03:17 loops; stubborn gates begin to yield. A lone green LED keeps breathing in the dark, as if the experiment remembers you. I. Protocol // Gate The camera enters before
Under utility light gone sacral, a whitened doorknob blooms with rime. The lock wants more than a key; pressure gathers, and the crossing crosses back. Down that hush-lit corridor, the pane keeps writing what you cannot — an afterglow you carry home. I. Threshold Mechanics First frost writes thin Enochian across
In a shuttered classroom, chalk dust lifts into script; breath learns to write back. A vow traces a lung-sigil; the room teaches the hand. Pressure reverses, protection speaks. Fluorescents tremble; the bell’s afterring hangs — fine, white — behind the ribs. I. THE ROOM THAT REMEMBERS YOUR BREATH You key open
Breath fogs the dusk-lit doorway; colors bruise to plum and coal as the veil thins and ember glows. Lanterns lift, threshold-work stirs, ancestor-footsteps hush the air. Step lightly — carry a small flame — and enter. October #ObscuraWednesday — Monthly Theme Reveal What is #ObscuraWednesday? A living field of occult, esoteric, and arcane
Beneath a knife-moon’s hush, a scriptorium waits — veils shifting, brass glowing faintly, silence bending toward song. A breath withheld, a breath returned, and the page begins to write itself. I. THRESHOLD: THE BREATH THAT WASN’T You must begin where the breath refuses you — there, where the monastery’s