I don't expect people who come across this blog to believe anything that I say. I expect people to come to their own conclusions about anything they wish. So, when I speak of something as an absolute truth, it may be for me, it may not be for you, and that is okay! Take it as an act of fiction, take it as an act of 'what if...?' or put your own logic to it. It's okay! We're all friends here.
So, I was looking around at some things regarding demonology for something I'm writing, and was spurred into remembering about something. This is actually fairly hilarious.
My now passed grandmother (hereby referred to as oma because that's easier) was always a special woman. Vanity and abuse was her way of doing things. I never could encounter her without ending up feeling really ugly and horrible about myself. And I got it easy compared to my mother.
She was a child growing up in the Rhineland in Germany during WWII. Affluent family line, but even for them, supplies were hard to come by. Feeding her already growing thirst for dragon's treasure, one year for her birthday she asked for golden earrings. She was the youngest, by the way. So, out her father went and traded out food for these damn earrings, and it started a decline of her existence. She was apparently referred to in her teen years as The Brush because all she'd do was brush her hair constantly and hit on American soldiers.
You can probably tell where this is going and how my mother came to be.
