Come over to the dark side

Victims claimed so far

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Welcome to my dominion

Those of you who have met me on the internet know me as Veyanne. In case you're wondering, I pronounce it (Vay-on') with the accent on the second syllable. I also go by the title "Daughter of Satan" when I rant on the Ask Satan web page. I didn't choose that title. Someone called me that after I posted some evil messages to the atheism group. I liked it, mainly because my mother talked about hell so much that you'd swear she was the devil. So I accepted the title "Daughter of Satan". The guy also called me a temptress because I was trying to convince this young Christian to doubt his beliefs. The kid was friendless, terrified of hell, and mad at the world. Tempting him away from all that was a good thing. So you can call me Veyanne - Temptress and "Daughter of Satan".

I have a couple other titles that I've earned. One guy I did e-mail with said that he didn't want his daughter to become a goth. He said he was afraid that she'd turn into a "Prophetess of Doom". I liked that title. So I adopted it. Anyway, I told the guy to respect his daughter's wishes and to try to understand how she felt. He did that and their relationship got a lot better. I'm glad that I could help.

Izabel Gans calls me "Lucifera". She likes my stories and says that she thinks of me as a light bearer. That's what Lucifer originally meant until the Christians made it into another word for Satan. So I accepted Lucifera as another title.

In real life my name is Ann, a boring name from boring parents. That's why I go by Veyanne. To pay the bills I used to work at a restaurant in the valley. It sucked, but when you come out of college with a liberal arts degree that's about the only job you can get. I studied like crazy for four years to get that piece of paper. I got good grades, graduated at the top of my class, but in the end it didn't mean shit. What can I say, reality bites. So when people ask me why I like to dress up the way I do, call myself a name of my own choosing, and spend my free time living out a gothic fantasy I tell them "If you like real life, fine, live there if it makes you happy, but don't tell me what to do with my life". Don't get me wrong, I can deal with reality. I just don't care for it. The religious, the rich, the yuppies, and the politicians have screwed up reality for everyone else. And as far as I'm concerned, they can keep it.

These days I work as a therapist. I'm still in the valley. There are a *lot* of people that need therapy in the valley. It's too bad that some of the ones that need it the most don't get it. But I try to help the people who come into my office. After I worked 60 hour weeks at the IHOP for two years I saved enough money to go back to school. I worked even harder to get that piece of paper. I was so happy that this time it did mean shit. I got a rewarding job. And business is booming. The thing that I don't like about it is that business is booming because of all the fear after September 11. Yes, terrorism is a bad thing and we should try to stop it, but the media and the politicians are scaring the crap out of everybody. Yes, we should be a little more alert than we used to be, but a lot of people are really anxious and obsessed. It takes its toll. It's like everyone is a little crazier these days and some people are a lot crazier these days. That's not a good thing.

So I feel that I've found my calling. With all the negative stuff going on in the world I can do something positive by helping others. We should put life first, not God or politics or money or anything like that. We should try to be happy and sane. We only get one life and that's it. Let's not mess it up. Please?

One thing I like to do with my life is write stories. I write my best material after midnight. I write mostly while recovering from one of my dark times, so my best stories are also my darkest stories. The stories will make you feel the deepest tragedies of others, but sometimes it feels good to feel sad. If you dare, journey Into the Land of Sorrow.

Not all my stories are sad. I recently faced my deepest fear. I feel that's something we all must do when we are ready. My deepest fear was standing up to my mother. She was domineering and volatile. She made me feel guilty and ashamed all the time when I was growing up. I felt like I was living in her shadow even when I lived miles away. I knew I had to stand up to her to be truly free and that's what I did. I wrote a story about what happened. Here is how I faced My Deepest Fear.

I also got involved in a storytelling thread in the atheism newsgroup. I really got into it. Some of the other people in the newsgroup really got into it too. The plot takes lots of twists and turns. That's going to happen with three or more people writing. Here is the story so far in our Adult Interactive Roleplaying thread.

And I got involved in a roleplaying game on the internet that we do in e-mail and in a chat room. I'm really getting into that too. The plot is more structured because one guy is running it, but what the players do is unpredictable. So it's neat to see how things turn out. Here is the story so far in Adult Interactive Roleplaying - In Nomine. And another game that we've been playing is Adult Interactive Roleplaying - Dungeons and Dragons. We took a break from that adventure, which was really serious, and had fun for a change in Adult Interactive Roleplaying - Ravenloft.

Some people wrote to me and asked me what I really look like. I guess that they figured out that the picture above is just that, a picture. I had a friend draw a portrait of me dressed full goth. I wanted him to make it look a lot like me but different enough so that no one would recognize me in real life. I was paranoid about putting my real name and picture on my site. I'd heard stories about women getting stalked and some of them aren't just stories. So I wanted to play it safe. Now I'm less paranoid, so here is a photo of me taken in April, 2000. I'll add more pictures when I can.

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Odds and Ends

Here's a funny e-mail I got called...

The Diary of a Cat

DAY 752 - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture.   Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.

DAY 761 - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair...must try this on their bed.

DAY 762 - Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.

DAY 765 - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan

DAY 768 - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.

DAY 771 - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer." More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 774 morning - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return.

DAY 774 evening - He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue. (something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured.

 But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.
 
 

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Here's a neat poem that a friend sent me in e-mail...

THE LIE
by Janet O'Neill

A child is born, his father beams
Another chance to live his dreams.
A new life now to guide and mold,
He'll tell the child what he's been told.
An intellect to quickly seize.
Embrace the faith while reason flees,
So much of life spent on your knees.
So much of life spent on your knees.

* * *

Baptize the innocent with tricks
Of sacrifice and crucifix.
Whispered prayers and chanted psalm
Deliver fear and guilt with calm.
Behind nonsense of ritual
Words tempt of heaven, threaten hell.
Reality is hard to sell.
Reality's so hard to sell.

* * *

Truth is harder still to find.
To keep the faith you close the mind!
And faith, not intellect, is chief
When minds are frozen in belief.
Smear the ashes on the brow
Starve, but feed the sacred cow.
Torah, Koran, bible scribes
Recite the dusty diatribes.
Recite, recite the diatribes.

* * *

Quote endless scripture, Pray the beads,
Worship countless deities.
Proclaiming love dispense the hate,
Banish - excommunicate!
Scorn the man whom reason rules,
Congregate with holy fools.
Celebrate all martyrdom.
Capture minds while they're still young.
Be sure to get them when they're young.

* * *

Cathedrals vaulted ceilings high
Regally dress up the lie.
Burn the incense, sing and sway
Superstition saves the day!
Ring the bells and genuflect
Dance with snakes around your neck.
Wail at the wall, bow to the east
Ignorance is a senseless beast.
Shout fire and brimstone, heaven and hell,
But fear the individual.
Fear most the individual.

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Here's something I wrote to a friend who knows someone who is thinking about moving the LA. They wanted to scare him into not going. So here's a rant about LA. It's mostly what I remember from a rant that another friend of mine used to do about his first visit to LA...

What's it like to move to LA?

So you come over the mountains and you're all happy to be in la-la land. You're mind is full of hopes and dreams and visions of movie stars and easy money. You roll down the windows and bask in the warm sun...Then the smog hits you. You start choking and roll up the windows. You nearly gag. It takes a while to recover. Then the heat starts to build up in your car. It's stifling. You start sweating. You reach the floor of the valley and hit the traffic. All eight lanes are backed up for miles. You get stuck behind a truck. The guy behind you keeps honking his horn. Traffic stops. You sit there sweating, gasping for air, and inching down the freeway for an hour. Then you find out that you're in the wrong lane. You try to change but the guy next to you curses at you in a foreign language and pulls a gun out of his glove compartment. You get scared and pull off the freeway at the next exit. Then you realize that you're in East LA. You see real life gang members and drug dealers. You drive by crack houses and boarded up buildings. You fear for your life and get back onto the freeway. You're going the wrong direction. You don't care. You see the exit for Hollywood. You decide to do some sight-seeing. It's all strip malls and low rent housing. That's because all the rich people live in Beverly Hills. So you get on the Santa Monica freeway and head for the beach. It takes you two hours. You get out and expect to see something out of "Baywatch" but all the people are fat, mental, or both. You leave. Night falls. You drive down Sunset Strip. You stare at all the freaks and weirdos. You get scared again. LA isn't like the movies, well except for "The Terminator". You get to your hotel and you lock all the doors and hide. During the night there's an earthquake. The quake loosens the ground below your room and you end up in a mudslide. Then all the brush catches fire and you flee back to your car. You drive away in a panic. Then you run out of gas. You hurry down dark streets to a gas station. You look up and see the price per gallon. You lose it. You go crazy. You laugh and you cry and you get taken away. You go to therapy for three years and discover that your parents never loved you. You call your parents and blame them for all your problems. Then you forget about your past. You stop caring about anything or anyone but yourself. You buy a foreign car. You make up a personality for yourself. You get a job and go to work.

Welcome to LA!

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Here's a poem that Peter Van Velzen wrote about me. I like it. He says it reveals my secret that the devil (me) is actually an angel in disguise. Humph, and after all I've done to make people think I'm the other way around. Oh well.

Very nice person in
Evil disguise,
Your faithfull respondent
Atheistic and wise
Nobody can rival
Nor copy here act.
Earning my deepest respect.

Thank you Peter. You're a wonderful friend.

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Here's a great joke that Bruce Crichton sent to me in an e-mail. I feel that it sums up what I felt when I prayed to God for all those years...

A journalist assigned to the Jerusalem bureau has an apartment overlooking the Western Wall. Every day when she looks out, she sees an old bearded man praying vigorously. Certain he would be a good interview subject, the journalist goes down to the Wall, and introduces herself to the old man.

She asks, "You come every day to the Wall. Sir, how long have you done that and what are you praying for?"

The old man replies, "I have come here to pray every day for 25 years.  In the morning I pray for World Peace and for the Brotherhood of Man. I go home have a cup of tea, and I come back and pray for the Eradication of Illness and Disease from the earth. And very, very important, I pray for Peace and Understanding between man and his neighbours."

The journalist is impressed. "How does it make you feel to come here every day for 25 years and pray for these wonderful things?" she asks.

The old man replies, calmly, "Like I'm talking to a f ***ing wall."

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I joined this neat gothic webring. I haven't been to all the sites. There's over a hundred of them.
Enjoy your journey through the darkness.
Join us if you dare.

This Children of the Night site is brought to you by Veyanne Are you a Child of the Night?
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