Greetings, foul friends!
Can we start this month’s entry with a bit of a moan? Normally, we’d leave that to The Wailing Warblers, the Lodge’s resident band of ghosts, but they’re currently on tour in Europe (speak to your local mausoleum for tickets).
Greetings, foul friends!
May we be the first of the undead to wish you a Happy New Year. We hope you rang in the new year merry, happy, and consuming our award-winning small batch gin.
What did we do for New Year, you ask?…
Greetings, foul friends!
The end of the year fast approacheth. Very soon, people across the land will be encouraging a fat man to break into their homes, eat their food, drink their alcohol, and then leave without so much as a thank you.
Greetings, foul friends!
No sooner have the Halloween embers petered out than we’re lighting new fires to celebrate Guido Fawkes being hung, drawn, and quartered over 400 years ago.
Oh, how we love this quaint little country of yours!
Greetings, foul friends!
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! We realise that you humans usually associate that phrase with Christmas, but we fail to see what could be more wonderful than inclement weather, chilly mornings, dark nights and a higher-than-average chance of being attacked by a werewolf.
Glorious!
Greetings, foul friends!
Another lunar cycle has been and gone since we last saw you, and what a beauty it was. The Super Blue Moon on the 19th meant the moon was 100% illuminated, which sent the Lodge’s werewolves into a frenzy. You know when you see little dogs get “the zoomies” and they run around like they’re possessed? Imagine that but with six burly werewolves. It’s taken us days to clean up the distillery; glass and furniture all over the place…
Greetings, foul friends!
Well, the rain dance we performed on the summer solstice appears to have worked a little too well, as it’s barely stopped raining since. Isn’t it delightful?!
And, as it’s August, that means it’s officially less than a hundred days to Halloween, so we’re as happy as a worm in a cemetery this month.
Greetings, foul friends!
Brother G here.
As you may recall from last month’s journal entry, we were doing our best to try and learn more about you humans and your interests.
Amongst The Black Lodge’s cast of oddities, no one matched Brother T’s unbridled enthusiasm for the football experiment. However, owing to an unfortunate accident involving a two-footed tackle, an angry werewolf, and an ill-judged remark about the referee’s eyesight, he’s writing this month’s Black Lodge journal entry from his sick bed.
Greetings, foul friends!
Somehow, we’re halfway through your human calendar year already. Of course, that’s just the blink of an eye to immortals like us, but Madame Anathema has been encouraging us to integrate more with our human customers, so we’ve been practising saying things like, “Ooh, where has this year gone?!”
Greetings, foul friends!
We confess we really aren’t in the mood to write this month’s diary entry. You see, we’ve just come back from a rather delightful time hunting for sasquatch in the Colorado Rockies and we’re still in what you humans call ‘holiday mode.’
