Real questions. Real curses. Real tired.
You lot have questions, and apparently I’ve been volunteered to answer them.
Not because I care – but because I have opinions, a cursed quill, and a bottomless pot of tea laced with despair.
Let’s begin.
Dear Hagatha,
I think my boyfriend might be possessed. He’s suddenly into ritual chanting and keeps talking to the walls.
Should I be concerned?
– Worried in Wester Glen
Dear Worried,
Darling, that’s not possession – that’s just a man discovering hobbies.
If he starts levitating or foaming at the mouth before brunch, then yes, give me a call. Otherwise, light a few candles, set boundaries, and never trust anyone who insists on wearing a cloak indoors.
Also – talking to walls is fine. They’re often more interesting than people.
Dear Hagatha,
I want to attend the next horror event but I’m really nervous. What if I get too scared and cry?
– Timid but Trying
Dear Timid,
Let it out, duckweed. Sobbing is the body’s natural response to confronting death, darkness, and overly realistic sound design.
Pack tissues, wear waterproof mascara, and remember – no one will notice your tears through the fog machine anyway.
And if they do? Cry harder. Haunt them with it.
Dear Hagatha,
A goblin stole my favourite ring at last year’s fantasy event. Should I report it or challenge him to a duel?
– Gobsmacked
Dear Gobsmacked,
Report it? No. Goblins do not respect paperwork.
Challenge him to a duel? Absolutely. But do it publicly, dramatically, and with snacks for the audience.
If you win – you get your ring back.
If you lose – well, at least you’ve finally earned some respect around here.
Bring backup. And garlic.
Dear Hagatha,
My roommate keeps leaving cursed objects in the shared kitchen. Help?
– One Toenail Away from Snapping
Dear Toenail,
You have two options.
1 – Countercurse everything and charge them rent for spiritual detox.
2 – Place a mirror under their pillow and whisper “it’s watching” every night until they cry.
Either way, make it known: the kitchen is a hex-free zone. You can boil potatoes or boil spirits – but not both.
If you’ve got a problem, a pest, or an ex you’d like turned into a frog, send your letters via raven, bottle, or dramatic monologue screamed into the woods.
I’ll be here. Steeping in spite.
Cackles and curses,
Hagatha
Purveyor of Brutal Honesty – Emotionally unavailable – Smells faintly of mothballs and malice
Got a cursed conundrum? Love trouble? Loathe everyone you live with?
Hagatha might have an answer. Or a potion. Or a rant. Either way, you’ll get entertainment (and possibly some mild trauma).
Contact us with your woes – if your letter is chosen, you may be publicly roasted with affection (or vengeance).