Gothic Snowflakes

Last Creepmas I made stars like the little one pictured above. These snowflakes are just a variation of that.  Instead of 6 intersecting strips for each side, these require 10.   Instead of gluing the ends together, these are crossed.  For step by step instructions see this tutorial by Ange Lika.

For the record I used strips that are 1/4 inch (6mm) wide and 9 inches (23cm) long.

I was fortunate enough this year to come across some very unique paper which I'll talk about later, but they were only printed on the one side.  I picked out a glittery silver cardstock to glue on the backside.  So let's talk glue.  I tried glue sticks, because they go on nice and even.  The problem is once you start putting stress on the paper bending the ends together the papers start to separate and I found myself touching things up here and there with a toothpick dipped in Aleene's Fast Grab Tacky Glue (I don't get paid to say that, just love the glue and won't use anything else).  I thought using a permanent glue stick would be better next go around, that was actually worse. Thin glues or mod podge are too wet and it's hard to not get wrinkling. As much as I love Aleene's Tacky it's too thick to spread a thin even layer.

The best glue in my experience, as much as I hate the stuff because I always seem to get it everywhere, is spray adhesive. The easiest solution of course would be to use cardstock that's printed on both sides.  Aleene's Fast Grab Tacky is still the best glue for the actual assembly. 

About those papers I found...

The first print I found this summer, while traveling cross country.  Late one night I found myself in the small township of Fairvale after accidentally turning off the main highway.  Imagine my surprise when I realized I was passing by the old Bates homestead.  Sadly it's fallen to neglect.  There's a fence around it now, with a condemned notice and warnings against trespassing.  Not that I would engage in criminal activity, but near the far southeast corner, there's a spot where the rusted chain link has been pulled back just enough that a petite person with little regard to tetanus could shimmy through.  And were some adventurous person to do so, and further venture on into the house, which I'm sure would be fraught with perils of rotting wood and other hazards and so I would never suggest such a thing.  But if they did, they might also take some scraps of wallpaper, which were already peeling off and of no use to anyone, as a souvenir. I'm pretty sure Mother wouldn't mind. 

The second set of papers I acquired later in the year. I had cause to visit a small coastal town in Massachusetts concerning a matter that I shall not speak of, at a location I shall not divulge. But I found myself with a free afternoon and decided to amuse myself visiting the local shops.  I came upon a quaint little bookshop off the main street and thought I might find a novel with which to occupy my time that evening, as I was finding it increasingly difficult to sleep at night. 

Imagine my delight when I came across a slightly dog eared, but in otherwise good condition, 1st edition King James version of the Necronomicon.  But when I brought it up to the counter for purchase the proprietor blustered that it was not for sale.  I tried to appeal to his better nature and offered to pay a generous sum, but he rudely dismissed me and would engage in no further conversation.  In a moment of spite which I am deeply ashamed of, while his attention was diverted elsewhere I grabbed the book, ripped out a few pages, and fled out the door before he returned to his post.  Had I been in my right mind I would never have committed such a selfish, thoughtless crime as to deface such a rare and precious tome. But as it was, during that time, I was not of my right mind. 

Later that evening after finally falling into a restless slumber, I was awaken by a dry rustling sound.  As I lay there in the dark trying to discern where it was coming from, I realized with growing dread that I was listening to voices, ancient guttural whispers. In a panic I fumbled on the light and the voices ceased. 

After a time I was able to convince myself it had just been my imagination, but as soon as I distinguished the lights, I began to hear them murmur once more. It was then that I realized they were coming from my satchel. With trepidation I crept over, slowly feeling my way in the dark, becoming increasingly anxious. So consumed with fright I was, that I feared my mind would become unhinged.  But stronger was an unholy curiosity that pulled me closer, almost as if against my will. 

As I neared the voices became louder and more animated. I thrust my hand into the bag clutching at those ill-gotten pages. Warm to the touch, they writhed under my fingertips, sparks flying as I held them firmly in my grasp.  The voices had now reached a roar. The din pounded in my head with searing pain, causing my vision to blur.  In a dizzying moment I saw things, unspeakable things.  Vaporous malformed things, becoming increasingly more substantial.  With my free hand I desperately groped for the light and the room was flooded with a merciful bright glare.  The noises ceased and the pages became still once more. I decided in that moment they must be destroyed and cut them into strips. 

Once in pieces they remained quiet for the duration of the night, and these many months past they are quiet still, for I have been reluctant to part with them now that they pose no threat. Although there are times I think I can still hear their faint rasping whir, but surely it's just the product of an overwrought imagination. Of course it does not hurt for one to sleep with the lights on.