#regional gothic
spectrologie · 16 hours ago
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Seattle, Washington // Michael Dees
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mountain-spirits · 4 months ago
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Spanish moss + live oaks | Charleston, April 2022
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ceciliaspen · 10 months ago
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A simple list
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the-shortest-alligator · a year ago
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isolatedhomestead · 6 months ago
I feel like Over the Garden Wall tapped into some primal belief we all have that the woods near our childhood hometown were hiding something Unknown. That there is magic in the world and it is so much closer than we think.
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theheadlesscrow · a year ago
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cavae-oculos · 2 months ago
Friendly Forest Entity Trying to Befriend You: A Concept
A few weeks after you had moved into that cabin in the woods, you were uncertain if you were ever truly alone out here. First, it was the letters at your doorstep. All the same. Covered in old parchment. Caked in some black, dried substance that may or may not be wax. The faint scent of wet earth. Unintelligible lettering that you weren't even sure was in an existing language.
Stranger still, was when it started leaving other things. Dripping, fresh berries, resting on leaves. Hollow seeds and old pinecones. The branches of a fir laced with wildflowers. It seemed to know when you were running out of herbs and leaves for your tea. There was also the occasional item of dubious origin. Like the bones that showed up in the backyard. Too big to be an animal, not long after that awful neighbor who would always harass you if you so much as looked at their property had gone missing.
One morning you had been getting logs for the fire. Someone mumbling in the distance. Their shape muddied in the fog. You call out and conversate. It's somewhat one-sided. They don't seem to have much to say, but they seem happy to see you. They say you are even kinder than they thought you'd be. The chill on your spine flares. You couldn't quite describe it, but their voice, the fluctuations, their pronunciations, they felt.. Off. The way they moved was stiff, artificial. Come to think of it, was their mouth always so wide? Did their eyes always glow like headlights? You ran away quickly. The firewood you had left behind appeared on the porch the next day.
On a particularly rainy night, you had been fast asleep only to be awakened by your dog barking. Trying to quiet them, you searched from your room window. Too dark to see it. It was standing just outside the door. The same all too inhuman voice from the firewood incident. It claimed it was your friend from town checking in on you. At 3 am. It was at least polite enough to leave when you asked it to.
It even seemed to watch over you beyond the cabin. You wondered why the churchgoers in town looked so afraid of you, why the gas station clerk always looked over your shoulder while you paid. Or was it something in the trees? Maybe they didn't want to bring it's attention.
At one point, you seemed to know when it was there. The room would feel like winter. The smell of oakmoss and petrichor. Somehow, it's voice didn't seem so chilling anymore. It sang of things old as time itself when you were restless at night. It seemed to enjoy reading along to the novels you brought from home. It echoed the overly affectionate words you'd give your dog, as if it was trying to show you it's appreciation. The garden seemed to flourish whenever it came by, almost like a gift of sorts. You couldn't say how or why you caught it's interest, but somehow, having it's company brought a strange comfort.
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crossroadsblue · 2 months ago
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Chad Wilder
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liminalrot · 10 months ago
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mel2173 · a year ago
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Alaska trip 12
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garrettkindle · a month ago
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I'll never know a home, That was more my own.
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spectrologie · 2 days ago
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Nottingham Road // Elsa Bleda
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mountain-spirits · 3 months ago
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here’s some blood-lit small town Texas gothic fodder
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bewaretheblackdog · 11 months ago
a guide to exploring an abandoned farm
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be sure to arrive after 8:00 AM and be gone before 10:00 PM. that’s when it sleeps. 
these cows have lived here long before you were born, and they will stay long after you’re gone. you are a guest here. they understand more about these lands than you ever will, so when they run, you should do the same. 
be careful with the sheep. you cannot put the same trust in them as you would the cows, for there are wolves hidden among them. 
there used to be gods in this cornfield. they’ve since vacated, but should you ask them a question politely enough, you might get an echo of an answer in return. don’t bother with the wheat field- whatever lives between those stalks isn’t as kind and does not leave so easily.
the barn door is a mouth; there are teeth concealed in those rosy wooden frames. the voice calling you inside is not a friend. do not listen to them. 
if you blink only to open your eyes in a silo, do not struggle. the grain will just swallow you faster.
avoid the yellow patch of grass in front of the farmhouse door. take good care not to step on it. it will show you dead things, ancient things, things you were never meant to see. you won’t come back the same. 
you went into the shed, didn’t you?
the crows will try to speak to you in a language long-dead. just nod respectfully, and hope their desperate calls aren’t warnings. 
keep the scarecrow in your eye-line at all times, for it will move behind your back. don’t give it the opportunity to creep up on you. you won’t like what happens when it catches you. 
do you remember where you are? who you are? can you hear me?
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viking-illustrator · 5 months ago
Regional Gothic but make it Norse Mythology:
The one thing they never tell you before you visit Jotunheim is the drums. You never hear them. But you feel them.
You haven’t seen a raven in 9 years, but you hear them croaking behind you every day.
You hear drips in the caves. It’s not water, they say. If you hear it stop, you should get to the surface as fast as possible.
“Have some mead!” your host says, and you do. You drink for hours, and the mead horn never empties. Upon reflection, you don’t think it ever was.
You tie a wolf with rope. You tie a wolf with chain. You tie a wolf with thread. Only after do you realize you can’t tie the thread with only one hand.
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everydaygothic · 5 months ago
is there a difference between east coast gothic horror and west coast gothic horror?
east coast gothic
The trees are close, the churches are plentiful, and the air is thick with mosquitoes or humidity. You will come across ghosts wandering through the fog. This is to be expected. Do not engage them. They have been dead for many lifetimes and what morals they remember, they are anxious to forget.
west coast gothic
Walk far enough and you will break through the tree line beneath a pure blue sky. Do not stay long. The trees provide shelter from the creatures that lurk in the mountains, but they are also your only chance of hiding. Besides, if you stay too long, you will not be able to find your way back.
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existential-cryptid · 8 months ago
the same boy comes in to the gas station every night. every time you see him, you think he looks worse but you can't tell how.
every night, you talk to him. you've found out that he's seventeen, his name is something like Dan, and he lives nearby.
when you speak to him, it makes sense. He makes sense. you can clearly remember the details of his eyes, how his nose is crooked. However, when you try to recall his face during the day, it's more of a silhouette. fuzzy and out of focus.
when you try to ask your coworkers about the boy, it feels like someone is holding your vocal chords in their hand. they don't know him, they won't know him.
the boy is back tonight, he looks worse. his skin is tight against his bones, bunching around the joints. when you greet him, he doesn't look at your face. his gaze falls on your arms.
he grins at you, and you wonder if his teeth were always so red.
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