Who want some coffin cakes? They're fresh from the cemetery! 

When I saw this baketray in the shop, I was immediately sold. OBVIOUSLY. I mean, it's a bloody coffin shaped baketray. How have I ever baked without one? It doesn't even matter what you put into these, it will look fabulous anyway. So I went for a traditional recipe, good for 6 coffins and 10 regular boring muffins (I only have one coffin shaped baketray *sigh*). Easy-peasy!


What you'll need

• 400g of (gluten free) bakingmix (aka as a mixture of raw cane sugar, white rice flour, baking powder, sea salt and bourbon vanilla. Yes, yes, I know it isn't actually 'baking' if you just buy a pack of white stuff (mine's by the brand 'Damhert Nutrition') and add some things to it, but it still goes into the oven! I still need te preheat the oven! That counts, right!
• 180g of soft butter
• 4 eggs
• 4 teaspoons of hot water (or not hot water. Mine turned out just fine with regular temperatured water. I know, I'm a baking disgrace...).
• Oh, and naturally you'll be needing utensils like a coffin shaped baketray (duh), a bowl, a mixer, a spoon, an oven etc. etc. etc.

What you'll do

•  Preheat the oven at 180 degrees Celsius.
• Put the bakingmix with the other ingredients in a bowl and mix until you get a smooth and fluffy dough.
• Fill the dough into a greased tin (or naturally in your coffin shaped bakingtray, which is from that floppy silicone stuff so no greasing needed. And, after you've filled all 6 of the wonderfull coffins, you panic because you've still got a lot -like a lot a lot- of dough lying there in the bowl. So you improvise, after a -what feels like hours long- scavenging hunt for some muffin liners, and fill a tray with just regular muffins. Oh well...).
• Put it all into the oven for 20-25 minutes and let it cool afterwards before removing the coffin shaped baketray (1. we don't want to burn our hands and 2. We don't want our coffins to fall apart, do we?). Most probably your coffins will be hideously deformed and you'll be needing a knife to get them sorted. But then, after some arts and crafts, they'll look and taste delicious! My condolences...

19-10-2015 / 31-10-2015
In remembrance of two weeks filled with gore and ghoul.
You'll be missed.

Regular programming will resume shortly (whatever that is).
Happy Halloween....

'Twas the night before Halloween, Mr. B. Pumpkin was quietly sitting in his garden nipping on a carrot. His neighbour, Doc, came out holding a big knife. "What's up, Doc?", Mr. B. Pumpkin asked. "Nothing. Nothing", answered  Doc as usual. "Why you're holding a big knife?", Mr. B. Pumpkin asked. "Oh, nothing, nothing", Doc answered yet again. "Why you're pointing the big knife at me?", Mr. B. Pumpkin asked. Doc smiled, "You know what day it is tomorrow?". "Saturday!", Mr. B. Pumpkin answered confidently. "Yes", Doc answered, "and Halloween. Do you know, Mr. B. Pumpkin, what people do to celebrate Halloween?". "They go door to door asking for sweets. I've already filled a big bucket full of carrots!", Mr. B. Pumpkin answered enthusiastically. "Indeed", Doc said "and to celebrate Halloween people hollow out pumpkins, carve faces in them and put lights into their bodies as a way of decoration". Mr. B. Pumpkin's eyes widened. He swallowed and hesitated for a moment before reacting. "Oh really", he said unsure. "Yes", Doc answered, "and this year I'm planning on something special". Doc held the knife tighter in his hand, put it above Mr. B. Pumpkin's head and...


...Chop, chop!


The children of Doc we're ecstatic when he came home. "Now we're sure going to win the Best Pumpkin of the Year-award!", one said of them smiling. "Thank you, daddy", the other said while grasping for the pumpkin.

No One ever heard of Mr. B. Pumpkin again. Many have come to his door, only to find a bucket filled with carrots standing outside, next to a sign saying 'Happy Halloween!'.

The End.

Love,
Dominique

Just after dear ol' Johnny touched your skin with his axe, you tried to escape his murdering eye and... surprise to us all, succeeded. Kind of. Now you're left with a rather bloody mess around your neck. A bloody good looking mess, that is!

This necklace is something quick to get you settled with when time isn't on your hand (although who's counting when you're dead?). You'll be done before one can say 'He murdered who?!!!".



There's no better colour than a Bloody Mary red. Mine is from Zeeman Royal yarn (241m per 100g). You'll just need a little, 1 ball of wool is already a tad bit too much. Oh well, you can always try and find Johnny and show him how you kill someone properly...

The 'body' of the necklace is 35 cm long aka:
We'll be starting with a chainstitch of 65 +1 (to turn with).
The second row will be in double crochet (American: single crochet) + 3 chainstitch.
The third row will be in treble (American: double crochet) + 1 chainstitch.
The fourth and final row of the 'body' will be in double crochet + 10 chainstitch. These 10 you'll need to attach to the side of your 'body' so you'll create a loop where your button can go through.
WARNING! The length of the last chainstitch is dependend on the button you're using. Tip: First sew the button on to the other end of your 'body' and measure how much space you'll be needing.

Now fold the body into two. Find the middle of your work and measure out 5 cm to the right. Now turn over your work and insert your crochet hook about the same place of those 5 cm (don't worry, it ain't exact science). Now follow these instructions to get yourself some dripping blood:

10 chainstitch, skip 1,1 double crochet.
30 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
2 double crochet
3 chainstich, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
15 chainstitch , skip 1, 1 double crochet.
30 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
20 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
1 double crochet
5 chainstitch, 1 double crochet
15 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
1 double crochet
30 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
3 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
4 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
3 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.
15 chainstitch, skip 1, 1 double crochet.


Done! All you'll need to do now is work away all those unwanted threads and start threatening dear ol' Johnny with his own life. Guess who's just risen from their grave! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAA!!!!

Love,
Dominique

When you're like me -temporarily in the business of gore and gruesome- everything looses its original demeanor and gets to be turned into something... well... something a bit more wicked. Take for instance this vintage French hat. Most probably soaked with gossip told by old French ladies during chic dinner parties. You can still here them whispering over the crème brûlée... "Mon cheri! That hat looks rather like a brain!". "Je sais! It will most probably raise the conversation up to another level, don't you think, mon amour?". 

Very amusing indeed.


However, when you squint your eyes a little, tilt your head slightly to the left and then without a doubt the image of a brain does appear before your eyes. Amiright? The shape, the colour, the position on your head... it's a bloody brain! (minus the bloody part). That will indeed raise the conversation to another level!

It makes you wonder about the way we perceive things and how they 'actually' are. Are we denying the good fortune of this hat to be taken away by the singular position of sitting decoratively on ones head during chic dinner parties and listening to the gossip of old French ladies? OR do we all agree that there's more then one way to appreciate the shape, colour and position of this hat rightfully?

It's not just the hat, as it is the awareness of the hat that makes me feel so strongly about its disposition. Does the hat know it looks rather a bit like a brain? Most probably not, which is a shame really. It could've taken over the world with its brilliance! (Most probably not.)



Although it must be said that this hat must not fall into the hands of someone who has evil in mind. Otherwise we'll get such scenes like The Mask and The Hat evidently doesn't sound as 'cool'. You initially think this hat is anything but harmful. But after it's taken possession over your body, you're inclined to say it isn't 'as fun'. It's not me lying there, but an old French lady after too many crème brûlées. Strong stuff.

Love,
Dominique

Tea, anyone? I've got something nice and neat brewing in the kettle. Grab a cup and take a sip.

There are many ways to make yourself a nice cup of tea. I always take mine with two limbs of sugar, maybe a splash of blood, nothing too daring really. However the other day I was busy brewing (the usual tea for divination: 1 tablespoon of English breakfast, 2 teaspoons of lemon balm, 1 teaspoon of eyenright, 1 tablespoon of mugwort and 1 tablespoon of rose hips), when a sudden shiver came over my body: we're all out of English breakfast!

My sister walked into the kitchen and saw the dispear on my face. "What's wrong?", she asked. "We're all out of English breakfast!". "Really?", she said while taking a sip from her tea. There I saw, still hanging from her cup, the last teabag of English breakfast. I was outraged! How did she dare!? The brutality of playing an innocent! As she walked off, I carefully pulled a hair out of her scalp. From the mantelpiece I snatched away a picture, got it out of the frame and lay it neatly besides the hair. As I'd put the kettle on, I went searching for the last and main ingredient: her childhood teddy bear, still sitting neatly on her bed.


The water had boiled by the time I returned. So I grabbed myself a cup, her cup, and poured the water in first. I waited until the water was stagnant before adding the rest of the ingredients. First I put the hair in, then I teared the photograph into two and last but certainly not least I grabbed myself a sharp knife and began to chop away the limbs, guts, eyes, and all that's in between from the teddy bear. Unfortunately not all of dear teddy could fit into the cup, so I resigned by just putting one limp -a paw- in to stir with. To make it all a bit more tasty (because we all know that neither a hair, photograph or old teddy bear are nice for the taste buds), I improvised and added some -not too much- Green tea extract in there as well.

As I stirred with one paw, I gazed into the cup. Slowly I saw all of my sister's problems drown into the hot water for as long as I pleased. Now, I thought to myself, I'll leave it to grow mould and watch everything she cherish to rot and wither. As I was about to cast a spell on it all, my mother walked in. "What you brewing, darling?". "We're all out of English breakfast", I stoically answered. "Well there are some more teabags left in the cupboard below."


How do you take your tea? Or do you rather reconcile yourself with a nice cup of coffee?

Love,
Dominique


P.s. Nothing to worry, my sister doesn't drink tea.

Thomas rubbed his eyes once more. It's going to be a long night, he thought to himself as his colleague shuts the door. "Ready, old boy", he commented while stretching his arms into the air. "Yeah, yeah", his colleague answers, "Switching positions every half hour?". Thomas nodded. "Well, see you in a bit then". "Yeah, see you in a bit".

Thomas didn't mind doing night shifts, but as he was getting older it became harder for him to stay alert all of the time. And why should he? It's a bloody museum! You'll need quite some tools to get a painting in there, let alone out there. And, he thought to himself, with all those electronic devices -security cameras overviewing every angle of the building, alarms if you're standing just a tad bit too close to a painting, locks with personal keycards and passwords that changes every day- you'd think it's a bit too much adding a couple of security guards on the actual premises. Oh well, a job is a job. Besides, he overheard the curator the other day about a recent theft of a painting from another museum. "Better to be safe than sorry, I guess", he mumbled to himself.

"Everything's clear, over", he heard on his walkie-talkie. "Nothing here, over". "Switching positions in five, over". "Copy that". Thomas looked impatiently at his watch, five minutes of many more to come. Time always passed so much slower when on night shift. During the day he'd either run around like a mad man, enjoy some small talk with the regular visitors or keep an eye on a couple of rowdy youngsters. The day would be gone before anything really bad could happen. Some visitors can be so uncareful, he thought to himself while shaking his head. Backpacks are the number one enemy of paintings, not thiefs.


Thomas abruptly gets awakened by his thoughts by the flickering of the lights. He looked up and within notice all lights were out. In total darkness he tried to reach for his walkie-talkie. "What's going on, over". A silence overtook the darkness. "All lights are out, over". Still no sound from the other side. "Hello, somebody there?! All lights are out, over". The walkie-talkie made a screeching sound. Without any hesitation Thomas stood up from his chair and grabbed his torch. He shines through the room. Nothing there, he thought to himself. Once again he tried to lay contact with his colleagues, but all he could hear was noise. "So long for a boring night", he mumbles to himself. It probably was nothing. Old building, old wiring.

Following protocol, Thomas looked in his bag for his mobile phone to call his superior. While scavenging through his bag he heard a voice, whispering. "Hello? Somebody there?". Thomas shines his torch through the room. All the paintings were still neatly hanging on the walls. "Strange", he said out loud. While turning his head, he felt a hand touching his shoulder. Before he could look who was standing behind him, a face appeared before his eyes. A girl, dressed in white, was standing right in front of him. But as he blinked, she was gone. In a blaze he drops the torch and tries to catch it. Suddenly he felt a cold breathe besides his ear, the hands of the girl wrapped around his neck.

All the lights went on again. And, as if nothing had happened, a colleague of Thomas steps into the room. "Your five minutes are up", he said teasingly. Only to his horror to find bloodshot eyes staring back at him. The bloodshot eyes of Thomas. Before he could react to the situation, the lights flickered and he felt a sudden sharp pain in his back. He looks down and sees the end of a -what must be- sword sticking out of his tummy, a cold breathe next to his ear. Like a sack of potatoes he fell onto the floor, covering half of Thomas' body.


As the early sun rose, the police were already busy and most of all puzzled upon arrival at the scene of the crime. All five security guards of a small museum downtown were killed. All five in different ways, all five on the same night and all five within a short limit of time. A museum with security cameras overviewing every angle of the building and locks with personal keycards and passwords that changes every day, but no sign as to who did it and why they did it. All the paintings were still there, no alarm had gone off. "It must've been a ghost", one of the police officers joked. "Don't be ridiculous", the inspectotr answered, "ghost don't exist".

Love,
Dominique

While Frankenstein is preoccupied trying to get his monster up on two feet, you -his assistent- are stabbing away with knitting needles. Using spiderwebs as yarn and a pattern that's been handed down to you personally by none other than the Devil himself, you're trying to not interfere with Mr Know-it-all. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Franky?" "What could possibly go wrong? And stop calling me Franky." "Whatever you like, Franky."  

What could possibly go wrong? Well, I can name you a few things! First of all it's pretty cold this time a year and we don't want him to catch a cold! Oh, and there's naturally that thing where [spoilers] he might set a cottage on fire and murder your brother and your best childhood friend and your fiancée (which leads to the death of your father) because of all the rejections and abuse he's had to go through because of his appearence and only really just wants someone to love and love him back...

But we can't solve everything at once! That's why you've taken it upon yourself to start knitting something nice and fluffy for him. That should keep the cold away! And while doing so, there's no need to sit alone in silence, you put on some fine tunes to wiggle your big toe to.


Click [here] to go to the playlist.

Love,
Dominique

Do you've got a skeleton hanging in your closet? No? Well... do you want one?

You might've guessed it, yes, especially for Halloween I've dusted off the crochet needle FROM HELL to create an easy jumper to cover up those bones (we don't want our secrets to be shown in broad daylight). Obviously this jumper is perfectly suitable for every murder you've got planned, every child's candy you want to steal and then eat right infront of their quivering face or just doing the groceries, watching television, doing your homework, walking the dog and any other ordinary thing creatures from the dark do. Whatever you're up to, this jumper is for you!

Instead of going for the classic black and white, I got inspired by Tim Burton characters and decided to go for a more surprising shade of blue: an it's a perfect night for murder dark blue and your frozen tears after I've pushed you into the ice light blue. Naturally any other shade will do too.



I'm using Wibra Saskia yarn (260 m per 100g) in mentioned above colours. The front and back of this jumper are equal to eachother. As are the sleeves, which are directly casted on the sides of the front+back.

As the front and back are the same, you should follow these instructions and repeat it (so you actually get a front and a back. Good advice, I know....). First you'll have to make a chainstitch of 94. WARNING! The amount of chainstitch can vary due to the yarn you're using (or how tight or loose you crochet), so always ALWAYS try before you die (aka: make a swatch, measure it and count how many you'll have to make so you get to 55 cm- or naturally bigger if you'd like to. No rules applied here! In my case 55 cm equals 94 chainstitches). Crochet 46 rows in treble (American: double crochet).


For the neck you'll need to cast the light blue directly onto the front+back in the 23rd stitch (aka: count 22 stitches and then take a bite) and go for 50 stitches (in treble) to make the neck. If done correctly, you've got 22 stitches of nothingness, 50 stitches (in treble) of light blue and another 22 stitches of nothingness. Add to the row you've just crochet another 4 (thus 5 rows in total), then it's time for some ruffles....

1rst row: Crochet in every stitch one treble and one chainstitch.
2nd row: Crochet in every stitch one chainstitch and one treble.

As stated above, the sleeves are directly casted on the sides of the front+back. The sleeves are as wide as the neck, so 30 cm (50 stitches) and are immediately set on from the top of the front+back in dark blue. In total you should crochet 35 rows in treble, then 1 row in light blue (also treble) and then, then it's time for yet some more ruffles...

To go with the blood flow: also add to the bottom of the front+back 1 row of light blue in treble, followed by some ruffles. Then sew the sides together (and naturally the arms and neck). And ta-da, a jumper! But we're not done yet, she said laughing wickedly.

To give this jumper its X-factor from the grave, I thought it to be most appropriate to decorate it with skulls. Why not? I've used this very easy pattern from Crochet Nirvana [here]. 12 skulls will do the job, but more deadly buddies are always welcome.


Now put your jumper on, grab an axe and start yelling 'Here's JOHNNY!'.

Love,
Dominique