The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

It is a well-known fact that cats can see ghosts and as Tails the cat watched Smocking Sam smoke his cigarette, he also watched as it died and the cigarettes ghost clung on to smoking Sam.

Cigarettes have souls of course, as does every thing in this wondrous universe.







The cigarette family usually start’s life living in a box and they are quite happy as they bond together. Then on one fateful day, light is shone on them and one of the family is plucked from the fold never to be seen again.







“Oooh” go the remaining cigarettes as the picked one is plucked and a feeling of loss is placed upon the family packet.

As the family of cigarettes is decimated, one by one, fear of who will be taken next generates anger and curses are made to the effect that, who ever is kidnapping the family one by one, will one day be killed in revenge. This feeling of fear carries on until the last cigarette is plucked from the packet.







Tails watched as Smoking Sam plucked the last cigarette and then promptly crushed the packet in his hand.



After throwing away the packet he took out his Zippo and struck it into life and then sucked on the cigarette as the flame lit one end.



“Ahh” said he.



He then sucked away happily and sucked all of the life from the cigarette.



As the last suck was taken from the cigarette Smoking Sam dropped the tab on the floor and then stamped on it and wobbled his foot to make sure that the thing was completely dead.

Tails the cat watched as the Ghost of the cigarette appeared as if from no-where.







As the cigarette died, the ghost of its soul seemed to cling to Smoking Sam’s chest.







The soul of the Cigarette butt, however seemed to cling to the sole of Smoking Sam’s feet thus dragging him down. (Just try getting but and however, together in a sentence, there’s a challenge.)







As time went by and more and more cigarettes were smoked and killed the ghost stubs of each cigarette seemed to join the other ghost stubs that were clinging to Smoking Sam’s foot.







These ghosts of stubs seemed to slow down Smoking Sam as he walked and the Aside



It is a well-known fact that cats can see ghosts and as Tails the cat watched Smocking Sam smoke his cigarette, he also watched as it died and the cigarettes ghost clung on to smoking Sam.







Cigarettes have souls of course, as does every thing in this wondrous universe.







The cigarette family usually start’s life living in a box and they are quite happy as they bond together. Then on one fateful day, light is shone on them and one of the family is plucked from the fold never to be seen again.







“Oooh” go the remaining cigarettes as the picked one is plucked and a feeling of loss is placed upon the family packet.







As the family of cigarettes is decimated, one by one, fear of who will be taken next generates anger and curses are made to the effect that, who ever is kidnapping the family one by one, will one day be killed in revenge. This feeling of fear carries on until the last cigarette is plucked from the packet.







Tails watched as Smoking Sam plucked the last cigarette and then promptly crushed the packet in his hand.



After throwing away the packet he took out his Zippo and struck it into life and then sucked on the cigarette as the flame lit one end.



“Ahh” said he.



He then sucked away happily and sucked all of the life from the cigarette.



As the last suck was taken from the cigarette Smoking Sam dropped the tab on the floor and then stamped on it and wobbled his foot to make sure that the thing was completely dead.







Tails the cat watched as the Ghost of the cigarette appeared as if from no-where.







As the cigarette died, the ghost of its soul seemed to cling to Smoking Sam’s chest.







The soul of the Cigarette butt, however seemed to cling to the sole of Smoking Sam’s feet thus dragging him down. (Just try getting but and however, together in a sentence, there’s a challenge.)







As time went by and more and more cigarettes were smoked and killed the ghost stubs of each cigarette seemed to join the other ghost stubs that were clinging to Smoking Sam’s foot.







These ghosts of stubs seemed to slow down Smoking Sam as he walked and the more Cigarettes he killed the more his walking seemed to become heavier.







The white parts of the cigarettes seemed to go in a different direction and seemed to rise up and cling to the other white parts of cigarettes ghosts that were clinging to his chest. These white parts of the ghosts of cigarettes seemed to make Smoking Sam have difficulty breathing.







Every time Smoking Sam smoked and killed a cigarette a little ghostly cigarette would cling to him and make his life harder to bear.







As has been explained Cats can see ghosts but



But although only some Humans can see ghosts, most can smell the ghosts of cigarettes on the people who smoke and kill them.

“Come on Harry, it’s time for us to go”



Standing alone in the cool Manx sea mist Harry heard the cheerful voice beside him, and realised that, though unseen, he had company. He liked being by himself as it was safe, and nobody could hurt him, as had happened many times over the years, so now this interruption was far from welcome. He put his hand into the mist before him; his hand disappeared, swallowed by the salty tendrils of the mist around him. As he thought, there was nothing there. He smiled and pulled back his hand, tucking it into the deep, warm, cosy pocket of his coat.



“I must be dreaming”



He murmured, nestling further into his wind and waterproofed double lined jacket. It welcomed him like an old friend. This was the life, this was security; this was where he wanted to be.



“ Its no good Harry, I’m still here”

Harry glared into the mist that, if anything, seemed to be even thicker.



“Who’s there, come on, show yourself, I’m not afraid!”



A figure came out of the mist and stood quietly before him.



“I’m here Harry, and I’ve been waiting some time”



Harry looked at him in silence. He liked studying people, albeit from a safe distance, but now he was puzzled. The stranger looked quite normal, he was wearing similar clothes to himself, but beyond the clothes he seemed to have no definable character of his own. The man sighed, almost wearily, and quietly motioned towards low grass bank that softly appeared out of the mist beside them.



“ Sit down Harry, this won’t take long”



They sat down and Harry looked at the figure, who sat deep in thought”



“Ok, you don’t know who I am, do you? No of course you don’t, but then you aren’t from around here are you?”

Harry shook his head, then watched carefully as the man brought out a notebook from inside the jacket he was wearing. The man opened the book and, raising an eyebrow, he smiled almost affectionately at Harry.



“ Here we go, Harry Simmons, born 1958 in London, died; well, that is yet to come!”



He turned a page and read aloud once more.



“Moved to The I.O.M on Friday 13th February 1984.Unhappy solitary childhood, badly bullied, unmarried, and as an adult not very sociable now. Occupation, barman, love of his life…”



The man paused, and sadly looked towards Harry.

” Love of his life, being alone, otherwise no other loves at all”



He quietly closed the book, and carefully put it by his side



“Well Harry, am I right?”



“ Yes, but how do you know all this? Who are you? What gives you the right to judge me?

The man stood up, and looked out into the mist before him



“ I cannot judge Harry, though others may do so in time. Who am I, well I’ve many names, and just as many contacts. Few have ever seen me, yet I know their names, their lives, and their history all the same. What do you think my name is Harry, go on pick a name, any one will do”?



Harry laughed, his laughter strangely muffled by the mist around him.



“ I’ll call you the Guardian, that seems a good name to me”



The man smiled and brought his hands together.



“At last, a name that fits my purpose. But now to business, why am I here?



Harry nodded and, leaning forward slightly, he looked carefully towards his newly named companion. The guardian carefully picked up his book, tucked it inside his jacket and then turned back towards Harry.



“ I’m here for you Harry, and I’ve come to help you as I have helped thousands before you. I come in many forms to many people and wherever you may seek me I shall be there, but though I am a guardian that is not my real name. Have you ever heard of a guy called Manannan, or in full Manannan

Lir?”



Harry laughed, and softly punched his guardian on his arm.



“ That is just a myth dreamt up by the locals over beer and kippers, if you are Manannan then I am the King of Siam ”



The guardian pursed his lips.



“ Ok Harry, don’t believe me, others have laughed before you and many will follow. Tell me, what do you know of my story, what have you been told?”



Harry looked at the stranger, and then began to talk of the myth he had heard many times before.



“ Manannan, that’s you by the way, was a powerful wizard who lived thousands of years ago. He was the first Lord of Man and also the God of the Sea. Apparently he is still around, and he looks after the island to this day. He does this by laying his cloak, a sea mist cloak like this no less, over the island should any naughty people or English Royalty visit or come to cause trouble. He’s almost a protector to the islanders, only three legged, which over here is very useful considering the islands weather, and its fondness for booze!”

Harry laughed and bowed towards his newly named friend.



“ Hail to thee, Manannan, my guardian and great Lord of Man!”



He sat back down laughing, then flicked his thumb over his shoulder



“ Nice mist by the way, expecting any invaders are we?



His companion looked at him in silence, then once more pulled out his book



“ No, there will be no invaders today, but thanks for the resume. It’s nice to know that I am still appreciated, albeit only over smoked herring and beer, but where do you think I got this information from Harry? How do you think I know you so well, and where is all this mist from? We are in June you know”



Harry snorted in disgust.



“Ever heard of the Internet and the telephone? As regards sea mist, well that’s a natural occurrence, it happens all the time. If you are Manannan, what do you want with me?”



Manannan closed the book and looked at him carefully.

“ You know what most people know, but there is an even older story to tell. Ever heard of the ferrymen? No of course not but I am one of many ancient escorts, and now I am here to escort you.”



Confused and puzzled Harry looked around. The mist thickened once more, but not before a young couple passed by briefly, only two yards away. Harry called out a greeting; they looked through him, and then looked the other way. He called again, louder this time, but, slowly, the couple moved on, gently laughing by now. He felt a tug on his arm.



“Harry, they can’t hear you. Look down below Harry; maybe that guy down there can hear you, go on, try and give him a call.”



The mist cleared briefly, and Harry looked down. He opened his mouth, but no sound came from within. He knew that body on the rocks. He knew that coat, and the scruffy pair of jeans. Inside the clothes a man lay peacefully, so peacefully, but as a gust of wind blew the man’s hair from his face, Harry saw his own face, and his own broken body. He turned to look at Manannan, his eyes wide, and his mouth open in a silent scream. Manannan smiled back grimly; and guided Harry to his feet. He held out his book for Harry to hold.



“ This is yours Harry; this book is your life. You already know what’s inside”

Harry went to take the book; it fell, he missed, he cursed, and went to catch the book again, his fingers closed together this time. The book fell through his fingers and rested on the grass bank beside them. His mind exploded, his brain, screamed, and he tried, but failed, to run away. He wanted to be alive; it wasn’t his time to go! Manannan moved closer, the mist thickened, it grew colder, Harry tried, but failed, to run; and all the time Manannan’s voice softly murmured in his ear.



“ Come on Harry, it’s time for us to go!”

A young couple strolled along the cliff top. The weather forecast had been perfect. It was a beautiful clear day, and they hadn’t seen anybody for hours. They gazed down at the rocks below, a seal looked up, and yawned, in return. They turned, laughed, and slowly moved on. The girl rested her head on her boyfriends shoulder.



“ I love the Isle of Man”, She murmured.



“ It’s so peaceful, and so quiet, nothing ever happens over here”



He stroked her hair, and kissed her. They were happy; they were together and in love, so onwards they walked, serene in a world of their own.

in love, so onwards they walked, serene in a world of their own. Nestling in the rocks, hidden from their sight by the seal, Harry’s battered body waited to be found.

A certain soldier was allowed to go home on furlough. Well, he walked and walked, and after a time he began to draw near to his native village. Not far off from that village lived a miller in his mill. In old times the soldier had been very intimate with him: why shouldn't he go and see his friend? He went. The miller received him cordially, and at once brought out liquor; and the two began drinking, and chattering about their ways and doings. All this took place towards gothic nightfall, and the soldier stopped so long at the miller's that it grew quite dark.





When he proposed to start for his village, his host exclaimed:



"Spend the night here, trooper! It's very late now, and perhaps you might run into mischief."



"How so?"



"God is punishing us! A terrible warlock has died among us, and by night he rises from his gothic grave, wanders through the village, and does such things as bring fear upon the very boldest! How could even you help being afraid of him?"



"Not a bit of it! A soldier is a man who belongs to the crown, and 'crown property cannot be drowned in water nor burnt in fire.' I'll be off: I'm tremendously anxious to see my people as soon as possible."



Off he set. His road lay in front of a gothic graveyard. On one of the graves he saw a great fire blazing. "What's that?" thinks he. "Let's have a look." When he drew near, he saw that the warlock was sitting by the fire, sewing boots.



"Hail, brother!" calls out the soldier.



The warlock looked up and said:



"What have you come here for?"



"Why, I wanted to see what you're doing."



The warlock threw his work aside and invited the soldier to a wedding.



"Come along, brother," says he, "let's enjoy ourselves. There's a wedding going on in the village."



"Come along!" says the soldier.



They came to where the wedding was; there they were given drink, and treated with the utmost hospitality. The warlock drank and drank, reveled and reveled, and then grew angry. He chased all the guests and relatives out of the house, threw the wedded pair into a slumber, took out two phials and an awl, pierced the hands of the bride and bridegroom with the awl, and began drawing off their gothic blood. Having done this, he said to the soldier:



"Now let's be off."



Well, they went off.



On the way the soldier said:



"Tell me; why did you draw off their blood in those phials?"



"Why, in order that the bride and bridegroom might die. Tomorrow morning no one will be able to wake them. I alone know how to bring them back to life."



"How's that managed?"





"The bride and bridegroom must have cuts made in their heels, and some of their own blood must then be poured back into those wounds. I've got the bridegroom's blood stowed away in my right-hand pocket, and the bride's in my left."



The soldier listened to this without letting a single word escape him. Then the warlock began boasting again.



"Whatever I wish," says he, "That I can do!"



"I suppose it's quite impossible to get the better of you?" says the soldier.



"Why impossible? If any one were to make a pyre of aspen boughs, a hundred loads of them, and were to burn me on that pyre, then he'd be able to get the better of me. Only he'd have to look out sharp in burning me; for snakes and worms and different kinds of reptiles would creep out of my inside, and gothic crows and magpies and jackdaws would come flying up. All these must be caught and flung on the pyre. If so much as a single maggot were to escape, then there'd be no help for it; in that maggot I should slip away!"



The soldier listened to all this and did not forget it. He and the warlock talked and talked, and at last they arrived at the grave.



"Well, brother," said the warlock, "now I'll tear you to pieces. Otherwise you'd be telling all this."



"What are you talking about? Don't you deceive yourself; I serve God and the Emperor."



The warlock gnashed his teeth, howled aloud, and sprang at the soldier -- who drew his sword and began laying about him with sweeping blows. They struggled and struggled; the soldier was all but at the end of his strength. "Ah!" thinks he, "I'm a lost man -- and all for nothing!" Suddenly the cocks began to crow. The warlock fell lifeless to the ground.





The soldier took the phials of gothic blood out of the warlock's pockets, and went on to the house of his own people. When he had got there, and had exchanged greetings with his relatives, they said: "Did you see any disturbance, soldier?"





"No, I saw none."



"There now! Why we've a terrible piece of work going on in the village. A warlock has taken to haunting it!"



After talking awhile, they lay down to sleep. Next morning the soldier awoke, and began asking: "I'm told you've got a wedding going on somewhere here?"



"There was a wedding in the house of a rich moujik," replied his relative, "but the bride and bridegroom have died this very night -- what from, nobody knows."



They showed him the house. Thither he went without speaking a word. When he got there, he found the whole family in tears.



"What are you mourning about?" says he.



"Such and such is the state of things soldier," say they.



"I can bring your young people to life again. What will you give me if I do?"



"Take what you like, even were it half of what we've got!"





The soldier did as the warlock had instructed him, and brought the young people back to life. Instead of weeping there began to be happiness and rejoicing; the soldier was hospitably treated and well rewarded. Then -- left about, face! off he marched to the Starosta, and told him to call the peasants together and to get ready a hundred loads of aspen wood. Well, they took the wood into the gothic graveyard, dragged the warlock out of his grave, placed him on the pyre, and set it alight -- the people all standing round in a circle with brooms, shovels, and fire-irons.



The pyre became wrapped in flames, the warlock began to burn. His corpse burst, and out of it crept snakes, worms, and all sorts of reptiles, and up came flying crows, magpies, and jackdaws. The peasants knocked them down and flung them into the fire, not allowing so much as a single maggot to creep away! And so the warlock was thoroughly consumed, and the soldier collected his ashes and strewed them to the winds. From that time forth there was peace in the village.





The soldier received the thanks of the whole community. He stayed at home some time, enjoying himself thoroughly. Then he want back to the czar's service with money in his pocket. When he had served his time, he retired from the army, and began to live at his ease.

There is a reason behind the gothic madness and a madness that the reason hides behind when it works out doing things the right way isn't always the right answer. We have reasoning do we not, the ability to think and to question that which is around us. What makes you more than that which is around you? I'm supposed to be an intelligent gothic creature yet my thoughts don't allow for me to be the human I supposedly am. I'm as I see it still an animal I might have higher brain functions and opposable thumbs but that doesn't mean when I hate kill and destroy I'm greater than an animal, less then really because animals live and work together, whilst nine times out of ten we do not.





That leads to that which we make, creation and its opposite destruction both things we hold dear. We create things... god's demons good evil and so many grey points to make our gothic existence something important. Funny enough my thoughts don't get go together like those of other gothic people I know the wires are crossed and the meanings are not always straight forward but all things considered I know they are there.





So you think your important now don't you... someone told you when you where a child the most important thing on the planet is yourself? It's not true you know that right? Try to think on it if you don't so much as look at your own eyes as actually try to think you will notice something really interesting. There is nothing there... sigh yes you will notice my lack of grammar but such is the minds curse that it only knows what its taught and I wasn't taught that part.. Now back to what I was saying. If you look at your eyes not in a mirror or anything where you can see yourself just look at your eyes...





How to do this... don't look at anything at all. If you look at your gothic eyes for just a moment you will notice your mind has gone blank. Does that mean in a way that for all the things we see in the world that we are for all intensive purposes blind to it??? I can honestly say I've seen the nothingness that is looking at my eyes... its pure blank.





But you see the world don't you? At least the parts you want to see? Sometimes I see with my eyes open and other times I turn them off it's a choice! You can choose not to see you know seeing isn't everything either. Listen with your ears it adds to your vision taste also touch everything adds to the overall visual experience.





So really in the grand scheme of things you know there is a reason for your existence even the lowest forms of life living in the world places in the world live still, it might not be much and even if it's merely living to survive your still doing it, accept for those who give up and commit suicide.





Is it up yourself to think your special? To think that hey I have a purpose or to think I'm going to make something of yourself. Why do we have these urges some people strive to achieve some just exist. It's amazing to see who becomes what and what becomes who.





But it's all an issue of your mentality which I get into next and also one of why the hell you came to those conclusions in the damned first place sanity is over rated gothic people can be told they are insane and are worthy of nothing yet rise to achieve the world sometimes reason is wrong, funny that I was told by reasonable gothic people I would amount to nothing. But by not allowing reason to guide me and being a little insane I'm here now writing this.





But I've spoken so much on reasoning even the lack of it but doubt is another gothic creature which for all its bad notions can sometimes be a total life saver. Sometimes things aren't all sweet and dandy, bad things come up and sometimes things aren't as they seem. Hence doubt is a delightful device if we know how to listen to it.

666 the number of the beast in the christian bible:



Revelation 13:11-18: And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth; and he had two horns like a lamb, and he spake as a dragon. And he exerciseth all the power of the first beast before him, and causeth the earth and them which dwell therein to worship the first beast, whose deadly wound was healed. And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men, And deceiveth them that dwell on the earth by the means of those miracles which he had power to do in the sight of the beast; saying to them that dwell on the earth, that they should make an image to the beast, which had the wound by a sword, and did live. And he had power to give life unto the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak, and cause that as many as would not worship the image of the beast should be killed. And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name. Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred threescore and six."



666 the number of the beast in history:



666 is also the number of nero caesar. If you write the "Nero Caesar" in Greek, then transliterate it into Hebrew and add up the letters, you will get 666. The notorious tyrant who persecuted the Jews and Christians in sadistic ways like burning, drowning and make them fight in the gladiators` arena against soldiers and other dangerous animals.





666 the number of the beast in our culture:



As the time passes from the days of the bible, the association of the number of the beast - 666 with darkness, evil, satan and bad prophecies pervaded to our believes and culture. "Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia" means 666-pobia, a fear of the number 666. People who has this pobia avoids from this number by all means. they also afraid of the date 06/06/06 and preffer to stay at home. but they are not the only one who avoid this evil number. In our daily life we encounter the dark 666 pretty much everywhere like the streets, the roads, the house address and phone numbers.





666 the number of the beast in mathematics:



666 is the sum of the squares of the first seven prime numbers:

22 + 32 + 52 + 7 2 + 112 + 132 + 172 = 666



666 = 16 - 26 + 36



666 = 6 + 6 + 6 + 6³ + 6³ + 6³





To many the mentioning of 666, the Beast, abruptly brings to mind the English occultist and magician Aleister Crowley. Although Crowley had never been classified as Gothic, or a Goth, one familiar with his character and works would probably agree that he would fit into the subculture. As a youngster he admired his father a retired brewer and a strong preacher for the Plymouth Brethren, a Christian fundamentalist sect in nineteenth century England. As a child Crowley become a fervent little Plymouth Brother who studied the Bible eagerly. The prophetic passages in the Book of Revelation of the Beast 666 and the Scarlet Woman particularly fascinated him. He readily imagined himself a servant of God battling Satan and his hordes.





He was not an unhappy child until after his father’s death. It is uncertain what caused his change of behavior, but certainly a contribution factor was his mother’s and his move to his maternal Uncle Tom Bishop’s London resident. Of his uncle he wrote: "No more cruel fanatic, no meaner villain ever walked the earth." And, of his mother: "...her powerful maternal instincts were suppressed by religion to the point that she became, after her husband’s death, a brainless bigot of the most narrow, logical and inhuman type" It seemed that her son’s mischievous behavior had prompted her to call him "the Beast." One quickly recognizes that even in childhood the evil influence of religion on Crowley.





The term "the Beast" had a great influence upon Crowley’s entire life, an influence which was entirely opposite of what his mother desired. She wanted the name to shame him into servitude; instead it rallied him into defiance. At times he called himself the Antichrist. To express Crowley’s views would consume a website, and there are many on the Internet doing so for those interested. In summation, he considered Christianity as the destruction of human freedom and the worshipping of death; whereas, he considered the religion of Thelema, which he founded, the bringing together of the spiritual with the material for the liberation of humanity.





The point is not whether one agrees with him or not; it is that Crowley had both his admirers and his enemies. One could even say his own mother became his enemy, whether she solely or greatly influenced his life is debatable but she was part of the discrimination which he felt. But the most important point is this discrimination failed to stop him; the number 666 accompanied by it title, the Beast, just speared him on. He took solace in his endeavors to liberate himself and others. This is why I think the Beast should be mentioned. When preparing this article I did some research on the web on Gothic culture, I really found the discrimination against Goths there too, some not even discrimination just plain stupidity. Crowley is an example, criticism maybe there, but belief in yourself and your way of life can overcome that.

The word lunatic with the meaning of madness, came from the Latin word luna, which mean Moon. The superstitions about the full moon madness effect on humans and animals have existed for centuries. They are so many stories about increases in the number of accidents, babies born, suicides and violent crimes. These moon myths are often subconsciously convince the people with influence of the full moon madness. When a strange event occurs during a full moon period, it is remembered as an event connected to the full moon madness instead of being seen as an unrelated event.



The ancient Greeks believed that human madness come from high rates of moistness in the human brain. Like the moon influences the high tide and the low tide of the sea, its influence on the moistness in the brain and causes crazy behavior. In the dark ages, it was acceptable that the full moon control the demons and the evil spirits which drive the innocent people to criminal act. In sixteenth century madness was consider the outcome to illnesses that cause by the moon periods. Since than, Studies have been conducted about the correlation between lunacy activities such as crime rates and the phase of the moon, but little connection was found between this two variables.



The current biological theory is very similar to the greek`s brain moist theory. The earth and the human body are composed of the same materials in the same proportions, about 77% water and about 23% organic matter. Like the moon reflect tides in the oceans its reflect in a same way on the human body In our times, the ancient sciences hasnt been changed or challenged with new theories. And this is why the connection between the full moon and its madness effects remain the same. The only things that prospering are the superstition.



In the past people spent more time on their front porches in the evenings. And maybe more time hiking in the neighborhood, park, and streets. On the full moon nights, the extra light, especially early in the evening, plus the attractiveness of the full round moon shape, may bring people out of their houses further than usual. More people means more exposure to the full moon madness phenomenon.

When people think of angel, they usually imagine of clear white wings like the first snow, and colorful hearts pure as rainbows. Sadly nobody told those people about the dark gothic angel.



Dark gothic angels are the misunderstood angels that dont obey to the common norms and dont pretend to be innocent. The leader of the angels called these angels, Gothic angels, because they wear only black, or dark colors.



The leaders wife, a kind and pure woman, wanted her dear husband to be kind and calm, but sadly he was always motivated by greed and he always beat her every time she didnt supported his cruel deeds. The dark gothic Angels hated this situation because they was hating themselves, but respected the poor wife, for being the only pure gothic angel that would give them a chance.



The gothic angels found out that the evil leader beats his wife, and now they are very mad about this. Tonight, the night of the full moon madness, the gothic angels are coming all together in a run down gothic church, to form a plan and get the wife away from the most evil angel in the universe.



How many dark gothic angels are innocent? To be innocent is to be naive about this world and to think that everything is pure and wonderful, but there are other dark colors in this life. The dark gothic angels dont afraid to take off the naive mask and to rebel against the mainstream.



Gothic angels allows you to throw away all things that are considered important by the mainstream society, to search for something more significant to yourself. Everything begins with the self gothic angel - from there you will find yourself in a position to help others. It also allows you, being unconventional at heart, to be more productive in your own dark gothic way, because society will ultimately confine you and make you feel ashamed of being dark gothic angel.



"Gothic angel is about doing things which may be considered wrong, but for all of the right reasons."

The Gothic Raven is a carrion bird and is associated with death. As death, Gory battles and the like played a major part of the Early warring tribes of europe, so myths legends, and gods soon arose arround such a dramatic occurence. Ravens are also messengers of death, not only as an animal that eat carrions. They can smell the scent of death before a person die even from a big distance. In ancient times the crows spotted at battlefield waiting to eat the death corpses. It was also believed that the ravens carry the evil souls from hell.





This is why the gothic raven is mentioned so frequently in so many myths and legends of Northern Europe. It is even mentioned in early myths of Northern Russia. However another possible common demoninator is also the Vikings. The Ravens where seen as messengers of Odin, the God of war which is why they flew over so many battlefields.





How Gothic Raven Stole The Sun:



Perhaps the best-known legend on the Northwest Coast, and the one with the most variations, tells how Gothic Raven the trickster stole the sun - as well as the moon and the stars - and brought daylight to the world. The Haida people tell of a time when all the world was in darkness because greedy chief kept the sun, the moon, and the stars in three wooden boxes in his house. He would occasionally lift the lids and let the light spill out for a short while, but he jealously guarded these treasured possessions.





Gothic Raven was determined to bring daylight to the world, but since no one was allowed to touch the boxes, the wily bird devised a cunning plan. Knowing that the chief's daughter went to the lake for water every day, Raven transformed himself into a hemlock needle and floated down the stream. When the young woman filled her box with fresh, cool water, the needle slid unnoticed into the box and Raven was carried to the house.





The chief's daughter drank some of the water, swallowing the hemlock needle, and as a result became pregnant. Eventually she gave birth to a dark-gothic, beady eyed child, who grew at an astounding rate. He also cried a lot, mostly for the box with the bright, shiny ball inside, but the chief refused to allow him to play with it. Daily the child wheedled and whined and cried even louder and longer, until the chief could stand it no more and allowed his grandson to play with the ball of light - just this once.





Seizing his long-awaited opportunity, Raven quickly transformed himself back into bird from, picked up the ball in his beak, and in a flash of feathers flew up and out though the smoke hole. Higher and higher and farther and farther he flew, spreading light all around the world for everyone to enjoy. Then he flung the shining globe into the sky, and there it remains - even to this gothic day.

There are many myths that Gothics are obsessed with death, are depressed, suicidal, and want to cause bodily harm to themselves or those around them. That is all they are - myths. Most within the Gothic community see the beauty not only in life, but also in death.



They accept it as a part of life and revel in both the light and the shadows. Gothics accept of death allows them to perceive it differently then those who fear it. Their association with cemeteries can be due to that perception and the fact that cemeteries can be breathtakingly beautiful and very peaceful.



Many Gothics do suffer from depression and self-injury, but for the same reasons as those who aren't Gothic do. Their way of life is not influential on those feelings and behavior, it is simply noticed more because of the attention being Gothic will undeniably draw from those who are perturbed by them. And, as different as they may look, the Gothic community as a whole does not wish harm unto others, in any sense of the word.



Most of the gothics in fact are of a diverse range of religions, from Christian to Jew, and Atheist to Wiccan, and so forth. And yet, prejudice against Gothics continues to exist and thrive. It has been hidden and not commonly addressed in the past



Goth, to an extent, has always been used to describe things that don't fit to well within society. For example: The name "Gothic" refers to a Germanic tribe the "Goths" that lived in their mythical homeland - the Gotland island. They were renowned warriors, famous for their courage and "barbaric" cruelty. During the 3rd and 4th centuries harried the roman armies, waged war against other tribes and Roman Empire. They famously sacked the city of Rome, creating their kingdoms on the ruins of other civilizations. Goths contributed to the fall of the Western Roman Empire.





Another example is the gothic architecture of the 12th to 16th centuries. At this times, family mansions, houses and churches were built in imitation of the gothic style, paintings of knights commissioned, and collections of medieval poetry published. This term was applied to the architecture as it was supposedly "rude and barbaric".





The current usage of the term in reference to the subculture. In the late 1970's Then it appeared in several music magazines in the UK and musicians and journalists used it to describe the new direction which some bands' such as Siouxsie & the Banshees, The Cure, Joy Division, and Bauhaus music was taking after the punk movement and music slowly began to decline. It is not clear whose idea it was to use this word for the first time to describe this new musical style, but it stuck and the musical genre is since then called gothic rock. It is believed that the name was chosen because the music was close to the gothic novel and its gloomy atmosphere. The fans of this music were the first goths who gradually created a whole subculture that soon ceased to be only centered around music.





Although members of this gothic subculture may differ in their own definitions, goth can be characterized by a fascination with all things otherworldly, from vampires to magic and themes of death and morbidity. Like punk, goth comprises a musical genre as well as an attitude, represented by somber acts like Bauhaus, Dead Can Dance, Christian Death, and Faith and the Muse. Often perceived by the general public as little more than "kids who wear black clothes," the goth scene is in fact a fusion of attitudes stemming from the sublime emotion of Romantic poetry, the macabre images of decadent Victorian poetry, and the contempt for normative bourgeois complacency found in the punk movement.

One story of the origins of Valentines Day comes from the time of the Roman Empire, under the rule of Emperor Claudius the Second. Rome was involved in many bloody and unpopular military campaigns. Claudius the Cruel, as he was known at the time, was having a difficult time getting soldiers to join his military leagues. He believed that Roman men did not want to leave their loves or families. As a result, Claudius cancelled all marriages and engagements in Rome.



During this time a Christian priest named Valentine came to defend love in the empire. Valentine began to secretly marry couples despite the emperors orders. When Emperor Claudius was informed of these ceremonies, Valentine was sent to prison where he remained until his death on February 14 in the year 270.



The festival is like Christmas a combination of both pagan ritual and a Christian tradition. Another, more gruesome, story of its origins is that St. Valentine helped Christians flee the city of Rome during the persecutions, he was tortured to make him renounce his faith and clubbed to death, then beheaded (which seems a bit of overkill) on February 14 AD 273.



It is also linked to the pagan festival of Lupercalia, which was celebrated on February 15 by young Romans centuries before Christ. The celebration was held in honour of the goddess Februata Juno, and concerned all young people of marriageable age. The names or tokens representing all the young girls in the district were placed in a love urn and the young lads each drew a token and the couples paired off. This was a kind of mating lottery game. During the Roman occupation of Britain, the idea was brought to this country and adopted by the ancient Britons. When people were converted to Christianity the pagan and Christian festivals were merged; the festival of Lupercalia was put back a day and celebrated on St. Valentine's day, February 14. The old pagan customs still continued and in Britain up to the beginning of the present century it was customary for local lads and lasses to draw lots for partners. In Lancashire, on St. Valentine's eve, the names of eligible young people were written on separate slips of paper and divided into two groups, male and female. The boys drew a slip from the girls' pile and vice versa. Thus each person received two sweethearts and then had to work out for themselves the most satisfactory arrangement. After the final selection had been made the boys treated their maidens to all sorts of outings and surprises including dances and gifts.



Cards and gifts



n Saxon England and after, on St. Valentine's day it was customary for a boy to give the girl of his choice a love token, usually a pair of gloves. The glove was a sign of authority in olden times. In Norwich, years ago, it was the general custom to give presents on St. Valentine's eve and packages containing all kinds of gifts were laid on doorsteps all over the city. They were anonymous and usually just bore the message "a Good-morrow to you Valentine". It was normal practice to ring or knock on the door after depositing the package and then disappear. Some parcels contained valuable presents while others were given as a kind of joke, being wrapped in many layers of paper punctuated at intervals by little notes of encouragement such as "Never despair".



It was not until the 15thC that the first greeting card was produced because, until that time, parchment was scarce and the majority of people were illiterate. The forerunner of the paper Valentine was first seen in the 17th C and the first printed Valentine may have been the title page of a book of verses published in 1669 entitled A Valentine Writer. With the introduction of the penny postage and the use of envelopes in 1840 the popularity of the Valentine card increased. The Valentine card took on a much more delicate form in Victorian times. It was often made out of lace paper, velvet and satin ribbons, embossed with the best quality material. These cards often had trick or secret panels in them, hiding secret messages to the girls concerned. Messages were also often hidden under folds of lace or ribbons. This was because Victorian fathers were very strict and would not allow their daughters to receive any sort of correspondence unless they had first read it and decided whether or not it was suitable. Later the traditional card printed its love messages in the form of a verse similar to those repeated by people centuries before.



In 1872 the Post Office declared that parcels not exceeding 12 ounces in weight could be sent by letter post. This news meant that in Norwich alone two days before St. Valentine's eve 150,000 letters containing small gifts were sent through the post. From that time, the custom of leaving presents on doorsteps decreased in importance. However, giving Valentine presents in Norwich continued through the purchase of gifts for the office, domestic and personal use. Local papers advertised, wall placards advertised and the town criers, too, advertised by ringing bells and shouting the advantages of buying gifts at certain local stores. The presents sent in a secret manner included oranges, work boxes, squeaking dolls, silver pencils and holders, books and various trinkets. In other parts of Britain, presents were also distributed: in Peterborough, sweet plum buns called Valentine Buns were made and eaten; in Uppingham, gingerbread was given to lovers; in Rutland, buns shaped like a weaver's shuttle and called a Plum Shuttles' were made and are still being made for children on this day. Weaving and lace-making were cottage industries in that area. The aristocracy, in the 17th C, often drew names for Valentines and the pairing lasted until the next Valentine day. Gifts were expected by the ladies and often expensive gifts such as silk stockings, garters, jewelry and perfume were given.



The censorship of strict Victorian fathers and the element of mystery and surprise experienced by those who in former times played the lottery pairing game has undoubtedly contributed to the reason why Valentine cards are, by tradition, anonymous. The custom of sending Valentine cards almost came to an end in the early part of the present century. However, in the thirties it was revived and has now been highly commercialised. The early hand engraved and painted Valentine cards are collector's items and are often displayed in libraries and museums during the season of Valentine's Day.



Gifts have always been a traditional aspect of the lovers' holiday. As a tradition in Wales, wooden love spoons are carved and given as gifts. Hearts, keys and keyholes are favorite decorations on the spoons, meaning "You unlock my heart."



Today Valentine's cards are sent anonymously by a 'secret admirer', a common practice is to put a personal message in the local or national newspapers. Flowers are the most common gift given, a dozen red roses or (more romantically and cheaper) just one red rose. It is just as common for a woman to send a man a message of undying love, especially during a leap year, and on Valentine's Day in a leap year it is the custom for women to ask their boyfriend or partner to marry them! So watch out!



Superstitions



Several Valentine's Day superstitions have even made their way into our modern-day vocabularies. For example, in the Middle Ages, young men and women drew names from a bowl to see who their valentines would be. They would wear these names on their sleeves for one week, and "to wear your heart on your sleeve" now means that it is easy for other people to know how you are feeling.



Other Valentine's Day superstitions revolve around predicting who you're going to marry. Some people used to believe that the first bird a single woman saw on Valentine's Day would give her an indication of the kind of man she'd marry. If a woman saw a robin flying overhead on Valentine's Day, it meant she would marry a sailor. If she saw a sparrow, she would marry a poor man and be very happy. And if she witnessed a goldfinch flying above, she would marry a millionaire. I dread to think what it would mean if you saw a vulture, luckily they're not common round these parts. These superstitions probably come from the belief that birds, particularly lovebirds, began to mate on February 14th.



Although not directly related to Valentine's Day, similar modern-day superstitions deal with love and predicting future marriage partners. According to tradition, thinking of five or six names of boys or girls one may like to marry and twisting the stem of an apple until it falls off will reveal a future spouse. The person whose name was being said when the stem fell off is the future winner of a set of marriage vows. The number of children a person will have can also be superstitiously predicted by blowing the seeds of a dandelion into the wind. The number of seeds remaining on the stem reveal the number of children the person will have.

Traditionally, spring begins on St Valentine's Day (February 14th), the day on which birds chose their mates. In parts of Sussex Valentines Day was called 'the Birds' Wedding Day'.



There are many other traditions and superstitions associated with romance activities on Valentine's day including:



the first man an unmarried woman saw on 14th February would be her future husband;

if the names of all a girl's suitors were written on paper and wrapped in clay and the clay put into water, the piece that rose to the surface first would contain the name of her husband-to-be.

if a woman saw a robin flying overhead on Valentine’s Day, it meant she would marry a sailor. If she saw a sparrow, she would marry a poor man and be very happy. If she saw a goldfinch, she would marry a rich person.

In the Middle Ages, young men and women drew names from a bowl to see who their valentines would be. They would wear these names on their sleeves for one week.

In Wales wooden love spoons were carved and given as gifts on February 14th. Hearts, keys and keyholes were favourite decorations on the spoons. The decoration meant, "You unlock my heart!"