Ankou's Profile at Vampire Rave.

Coven

About Me...

I have Logged on to this site in my leisure time for years. Vampire Rave has been part of a timeline of ups and downs and profound moments in my life. I've chatted with many people on this site, yet there are only a few I consider friends. My stand-offish personality is not a facade, my walls have no doormats or invitations to penetrate boundaries.

My rating system.

I rate and add as I wish and choose, it's just that simple. Drama with be returned with a block, my peace of mind is more important than some pettiness. I find revenge rating childish, communication works well for disagreements.

Well, that's all folks.

"Pale Death beats equally at the poor man's gate and at the palaces of kings."

Horace

It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we're alive - to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a facade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are.

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Ankou

In the Celtic mythology of Brittany, the figure of Ankou is associated with death. Tall and wearing a long dark coat, a wide-brimmed hat, and carrying a scythe over his shoulder. The skeletal Ankou is a collector of the souls of the dead. Ankou is sometimes said to have two skeleton helpers who assist in loading the souls of the dead into a rickety cart drawn by black horses. He is also known as the graveyard watcher,& It is said that he protects the graveyard and the souls around it for some unknown reason.

One legend hinted that Ankou had once been a cruel landowner who foolishly challenged Death to a game of chance. A Prince, prone to fits of jealous anger and petty viciousness, loved to hunt. The moment of death, like the pain of his fellows, was as mother’s milk to him. One night, on the Sabbath, the man decided to have some sport in his forest. While chasing a white stag, a magical animal found in several Celtic Fay stories, the man and his then-drunken companions stumbled across a massive figure drabbed in black atop a magnificent white horse.
(Another symbol of Death)

The Prince challenged the silent man to a contest, angry at having found him on his land. Whoever could kill the stag would not only keep the meat and hide but could also determine the loser's fate. The stranger readily agreed, his voice reminding the assembled men of the sound of leaves scraping against the castle walls.

The hunt was over so quickly that the Prince could only stammer. As hard as he had rode, the stranger had galloped faster. Through field and stream and mountain, the dark stranger remained in the lead, night winds tugging wildly at his cloak. And when the Prince was still stringing his bow, the stranger let his arrow loose with a dead whistle and a sickening tear of shredding flesh.

The vindictive Prince ordered his men to surround the stranger, bragging he would bring back two trophies to his hall that night.

The stranger laughed.

“You can have the stag,” he said, “and all the dead of the world. Is your joy hunting? Hunt then! Your trophies will be found across battlefields and earth and reek of decay, huntsman.”

The 7 Deadly Sins

"Wrath is something that makes you think and do terrible things" ~Unknown

"Greed is a fat demon with a small mouth & whatever you feed it is never enough" ~Janwillem van de Wetering

"Lust is a passion that will be served, it demands it militates, it tyrannizes" ~Marquis De Sade

Gluttony "It is the just doom of laziness and gluttony to be inactive without ease and drowsy without tranquility" ~Samuel Johnson

Sloth "Thou seest how sloth wastes the sluggish body, as water is corrupted unless it moves" ~Ovid

Pride is a vice, which pride itself inclines every man to find in others, and to overlook in himself ~Samuel Johnson

"Envy will end up killing you slowly, slowly pulling you inside out" ~Unknown

My love letters are death threats
and that's the nature of the game.
I'll make you pale when your breath fails
and you kick and screech in my bed.
feel my arms constricting like snakes
and the fatal red flood of the flow?
want me to let you go?
no?
then give me reasons to need you
and better reasons to bleed.

Real vampires love Vampire Rave.

I'm not gentle or kind.
I drink blood and make no petty apologies.
I dine on death with eternity jealous of me.
I laugh at heaven and hell,
knowing I'm beyond their reach.
I raise the dead to ride the thrill
when my children pray to me, offering tears.
I see men and women die, and I am without pity
because they've chosen the easy way out
in little steepled buildings
where they pay to leave their dead.
I play dead to talk with worms
who have more to say about life and death
than any rabbi or shaman or priest.
The only god I know resides in my mirror;
the only devil I've seen shares his eyes.
My will is steel, my heart a singularity;
my soul is from the grave. I am a vampire.
I-Am.

Real vampires love Vampire Rave.

Spirits of the Dead
By Edgar Allan Poe

Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee—and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.

The night, tho’ clear, shall frown—
And the stars shall look not down
From their high thrones in the heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given—
But their red orbs, without beams,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and fever
Which would cling to thee forever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drop from the grass.

The breeze—the breath of God—is still—
And the mist upon the hill,
Shadowy—shadowy—yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token—
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

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