Every year I do three stupid things. I can’t help it, that’s just the way I am, I will make three stupid decisions annually and most of the time they have to do with buying something. That’s the least harmful decision I can make, so I try to consciously control at least two of my mistakes just to limit the damage. This year an acquaintance of mine online recommended Creepy Hollows as a good place to buy fairies and dragons. I had been unaware such things were available for purchase at all, but when I checked the site out I thought the prices seemed fairly reasonable, around $40 on average and with the new customer discount the price went down to approximately $20. This seemed like a wonderful opportunity to get rid of what I hoped was the last stupid financial decision I made in 2014, and it might even turn out to be fun.
I’m open-minded about magickal things. You can’t practice martial arts and meditation for most of 60 years without coming across some odd stuff. It’s not hearsay when you’ve devoted your life to these practices; it’s direct experience. When you start reading the books that masters of the internal martial arts and ninjutsu have written, you run into some very odd statements. It’s not uncommon for such people to have direct contact with what the modern world now describes as “aliens.” I’ve had my share of that, and in the old stories of faeries and dragons I see much of my own experience reflected, although I don’t regard it as being precisely what the old magi thought it was. When someone says they sell such things — or actually, amulets magically connected to the spirits of deceased beings from long ago — I am immediately skeptical. In the traditions I’ve studied, involving money in this is a great way to lose that connection and spiritual allies are not something that can be sold. Some interesting things happened when my friend sent her fairy to visit, though, and I decided to take the plunge and buy an entity of my very own. Maybe a dragon, I thought. It would be kind of nice to have a dragon around. I’ve often thought of getting an iguana, but the house is too cold in the winter for tropical reptiles and anyway at my age I worry what would happen to a pet that outlives me. Iguanas and parrots live longer than people do and I have maybe twenty years left if I change my sinful ways and live right, which isn’t actually going to happen. A pet that’s ethereal and already dead, that seems nice. I wouldn’t even mind if it were completely imaginary. I could still have fun introducing it to people.
Shopping at Creepy Hollows quickly turned into a Halloween horror story. I found page after page of information on various types of dragons, all of whom have different specialties and needs. Some are diurnal and some nocturnal; some fight with flame and others with poison; some are small enough to fit in your hand and others are bigger than my house. Some don’t tolerate winter temperatures happily, and I didn’t want to hook up with a dragon that gets cranky for half the year. I spent hours sorting through the listings and afterwards wished I had taken notes, because Creepy Hollows pads everything with a lengthy chunk of repetitious general information and hides the details someplace inside it. If you don’t copy and paste that stuff to your notepad, along with the page link, you’ll never find it again without going through all the listings one more time. Once I acquired my research headache I decided to look for other options, and found something that seemed perfectly designed for someone like me: the Creepy Hollows Reverse Adoption.
If you go for the Reverse Adoption at Creepy Hollows, you don’t have to plow through hundreds of pages of misleading and contradictory product information. You let the spirits choose you, and you might be surprised by what you get (I certainly was). You might get a Djinn, or a Fairy, or a Dragon, or a Vampire, or even a Succubus! or a being from several other categories of ethereal companions. (I had already considered the succubus option but thought the price was a bit high). All the options sounded interesting so I placed an order and included a brief description of myself and my spiritual path just in case the spirits involved needed details. In fact, it seemed unfair to the then 297 spirits available that any of them might connect to me accidentally. I’m known to be trouble. From reading accounts on the Creepy Hollows Forum I knew that most people had limited experience with the entities they purchased. In fact, you could easily attribute all that happened to imagination and circumstance. If you just bought a fairy, you tend to interpret every odd thing that happens as fairy mischief. I’m not like that, odd stuff happens in my house and my life even without a Creepy Hollows amulet around my neck. When I work with spirits, we do actual things, and any spirit that volunteers to work with me might be in for a rough ride.
So I went one step farther, and meditated upon attending the summoning and binding ceremony personally (in astral form). I figured that being there would help ensure a correct choice. Maybe I could meet the candidates beforehand and we could get to know each other, like at one of those Russian bride conventions in Moscow. I can understand if you’re skeptical of this approach, but Shaolin monks can walk through walls. Happens even if you’re a layman, if you work at the kung fu for long enough. I had confidence in myself.
In a couple of weeks, the people who do the magickal things at Creepy Hollows got around to my order. You can choose different options for the binding, and a stainless steel amulet seemed appropriate for me. They did get that part right — the envelope that came in the mail contained a small stainless steel pendant in the shape of an axe. That really seemed like an inspired choice. I have a collection of axes and have used nearly all of them. My blog has a section devoted to them, and I’ve reviewed axes professionally. I did not sense any remarkable energy connected to the amulet, unlike many of the people on the forum who said their packages arrived simply humming with power. I was disappointed, because I’m somebody who will buy a crystal if sparks jump across to my fingertips when I reach for it. I like strange things.
The shipment included a description of the entity to whom I was now connected, and immediately as I read it I felt there had been a huge mistake, because the description was an expanded version of the personal information I included with my order. I wondered if I had misunderstood it, looked for an explanation online and couldn’t find one, and wrote to the support email address to complain. Later that day I realized what probably had happened. I took the amulet off from around my neck and tossed it into the Wooden Bowl of Useless Junk and Dominoes that I keep on top of the bookcase. A few days later I wrote to Creepy Hollows support again, asking that they either redo the order or send me a refund, but I haven’t heard from them and do not expect a reply. They make it as clear as anything else on their site (and by this I mean their policy on refunds and product effectiveness is muddled and confusing) that you ain’t gonna get your money back.
Some people really do have gifts, in a psychic sense, and the person who did my spiritual adoption might be one of those, because apparently this person picked up the vibes of my visiting astral self and assigned me to me. I have adopted myself. I wish the conjurer assigned to my order had taken a few minutes more to let the visiting dragons and fairies and succubi assemble, had allowed us to shake hands and introduce ourselves and discuss possible projects, because something really nice might have happened if the people at Creepy Hollows weren’t so intent on filling their production quota. I guess we only had about 30 seconds, not even long enough for me to explain why I was there. Now I’m bound to an amulet I can’t return because they might sell me to someone else and I’d have to throw balls of light through someone’s house at night and make the floors creak. I’m no use to myself as a spiritual guide, seems redundant. Maybe redundancy is the real thing you buy at Creepy Hollows.