“Go to hell” by Julia on her couch

Saturday January 11, 2020
9:19pm
5 minutes
Age Of Iron
J.M. Coetzee

Jesus and the devil had the same haircut, the same beard, the same laugh. Did you know that?

Did you ever see them shadow on the wall in your bedroom?
I could tell you a thing about that.

Maybe the prayer part doesn’t appeal to you.
It’s not for everyone.

Some people don’t realize that giving gratitude is prayer. That honouring a thing with your attention is prayer.
Praying to the devil?

I could tell you a thing about that.

You might even go to hell and confuse the place for something else since you’ll see so many good people there.

I don’t know if I’ve made that enticing but now you can think about it. All the best intentioned, good as gold people.

“what God told me in a dream once” by Julia at her desk

Sunday December 8, 2019
6:57pm
5 minutes
A Poem In Which God Is Both A Metaphor And Not
Chloe N. Clark

It was the day I discovered the Ouija Board. Brett and Lauren convinced me and Jenna to play. I didn’t want to. I didn’t think it was a very good idea.
When Brett asked the question, “What is written on the back of my ring”, the one his mother used to wear that he now never takes off, I waited with my breath trapped in my chest. The pointer piece started to move on the board and I felt like I was watching my worst nightmare come to life. It hovered over the initials, T…..S…..Brett was shocked. He took off his ring to show us the same two letters.

Later that night I woke from a dream to find the silhouette of Jesus on my wall. I stared at it, him beaming at me from the shadow. His beard and eyes, soft. I opened my mouth and almost spoke. Then the figure began to laugh. It was high pitched and getting bigger and bigger. Jesus was laughing at me. And I knew right then and there that I had invited the devil into my room, just like I always feared.

“the serpent coiled around the pillar” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday September 25, 2018
9:55pm
5 minutes
Come of Age
Stephen Jenkinson

I have been casting out the devil since I knew he could break into my bedroom at night while I slept.
Lord knows I have stomped my little heart out on the floor more than once to rebuke that son of a bitch.
They do not tell you, when you are just starting to welcome Jesus into your heart, that atheists don’t get possessed by the devil. Why would they? The Christians are stacking their team with the impressionable. The talented. The eager.
Mostly I had to curse his name after watching a scary movie. I believed he could get in easier through my nightmares. I prayed for god to please not let me see anything bad, hear anything bad, or dream of anything bad. Because once I saw Jesus’ shadow on the wall and when he started laughing maniacally,
I knew.

“Loading zone” by Julia at her desk


Friday, June 28, 2013
3:13am
5 minutes
From a street sign

There’s a place, I guess you should know it, it’s on the way to your worst fear and on the way back from your worst nightmare. You let the devil in for one second and he’s already made a home inside your safe space and mucked up all the white tiles. He’s put his grubby hands on all of your favourite paintings and rummaged through your fridge to see what you loved so he could just dump it on the ground and let the fruit flies at it. I don’t know if you had a sign on your door, something saying you didn’t mind about intruders or that you welcomed them even. Some mats have that little saying that means something different than what it says and you could have just picked the wrong one. I know for me, when I let the devil in, I didn’t have any locks on my doors so it was sort of like inviting him in or giving him free reign over all of my belongings. I was sorry about not investing in locks earlier. I didn’t know that there would ever be a time when someone just failed to knock first. I’m hoping you learn from my mistakes and keep your nightmares closer to yourself. The first wrong step is telling someone about them…

8. Open your closet.” by Julia on her couch


Monday February 11, 2013
11:31pm
5 minutes
The Artist’s Way
Julia Cameron


He was staring into my hairline as opposed to into my eyes. I think he was scared because one is green and the other is yellow like the sun. If he didn’t know how to handle it, I don’t blame him. I still don’t know how to handle it. I keep thinking my left side is possessed by the devil. When I see myself in the mirror I get a little worked up. Anyway he was avoiding my eyes. He was trying to invite me to his event. He was being awarded for something, thought it’d be nice if I could go with him. But I stopped listening and started counting out my outfits. 7. Black dress gold trim makes me look sexy. 8. Black dress black trim makes me look generic. 9, black dress no trim makes me look? Did he even say this was black tie optional? If it’s optional I’ll be wearing jeans. Maybe I’ll ask my hairline. She’ll know better than me.

“Directly above and below” by Julia at the Eaton Centre


Friday, December 28, 2012 at the Eaton Centre
4:43pm
5 minutes
Rookie Year Book One
Edited by Tavi Gevinson


Somewhere above me, a sky sings. It’s the Lord’s prayer. The Lord of prayers that I don’t believe in anymore. It still sings. It sings for other people, not for me. I asked it to stop but you can’t control the whole world. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Someone else asks for it, and thy will be done, etc. etc. I’m just another number to them. The church, the people who pray, the believing ones. I’m the number 666 to most of them because they don’t see my logic or my rational. They like to pretend that I’m still a number worth saving. Worth turning into something holy, like 3, or 333, or some multiple of the aforementioned numbers that keeps me in the good books.
The good book is something I’d like to avoid if I can…
It kept me from nightmares when I was 6 (interesting) because I’d put it under my pillow to warn the underworld that I was armed and I wasn’t kidding. It kept me from ending up with a guy who would have ruined me when I was 16 (6 again. Curious.). And it kept me from falling off the edge when I was only hoping to land feet first when I was 18 (nobody’s perfect). Somewhere below me, a man in a red suit dances around, laughing, at every inappropriate thing I’ve ever said or done, and he’s taking credit for it as if it were his idea or initiative. The sky above me sings, the man below me dances. What song does he hear, I wonder sometimes. The one that plays from my youth, or the one that I’ve crafted since then?