7 Deities

Occult-Based Original Cosplay & Media Production

Original Cosplay Character and Media Production 

Ozambra

Ozambra aka Ozzie, is an awakening Necromancer, an ancestral Warrior Princess, a Neo Nazi Skinhead Slayer. Part I of Ozambra's story can be read on AFROPUNK where she gets into a knife fight with a Neo Nazi Skin in a mosh pit at a Dropkick Murphys show. The following is where her story begins to unfold directly after the fight. It is a peering into her everyday life, and a bit of foreshadowing of what her life is transforming into, as the knife fight was an initiation of sorts without her knowing. 

Meet Ozambra aka Ozzie

Photo by TH Taylor

Photo by TH Taylor

I pushed through the black doors and stumbled onto the street. Vomit splat out of my mouth onto the concrete that was dry from rain for the first time in days. Threads of red blood swirled into the puke, and I'd hoped it was only from the skin on my jaw—not my insides that were now trembling from being scared shitless. Full movement reassured me I was indeed still fully alive with functioning innards. After realizing I was okay and intact, I walked away quickly from the concert hall in an almost skipping motion, as I still didn't feel quite safe. My eyes began to burn as saltine pools poured out of my tear ducts, congregating around the base of my eyeballs and blurring my vision. I wiped the puke residue from my lips across my forearm. My breath quickened as streams of tears began trailing down my face. I spat the putrid remains out of my mouth and watched it sail across the pavement. Wiping my mouth again while passersby were approaching, I noticed an alarmed look on their faces. Lowering my arm from my face, I realized that I was still clutching the knife so tightly in my hand that it almost hurt. Folding the bloody blade down, I squatted quickly and slid it back down into my boot. Wiping my wet face with the free palm, I stood, continued walking and tried my best to stop crying.  

I reached into my pocket and dialed Zenith’s number, waiting patiently for the ringing to give way to his voice. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, he answered.  

"Hey you," he said cheerfully to me in a voice that was more than comforting.

"Hey", I replied, my voice shaky. As I noticed the wavering in my voice, my eyes began to burn again, sobs spilling out of me against my will.

"Heeeyy, what happened?! Are you okay?! What's wrong?! Where are you? Do I have to kill somebody??" He asked, his voice shifting into urgency, not waiting for one particular answer to his string of questions.  

"Soo…yeah. I left the show early, hehe…I almost killed a guy," I said exhaling an odd soup of tears and laughter.   

"What? The show was that bad? Jesus...What, did they only play new songs? I mean, what...Wait what happened Ozzie, talk to me.”

Photo by TH Taylor

Photo by TH Taylor

I hailed and hopped inside a shiny yellow cab, as I began to give Zenith the literal  bloody run down of my horrific dance with the devil in the mosh pit. Leary brown eyes peered at me from the rearview mirror as I stumbled over the recap, my hand quivering a bit as it held the smartphone up to my ear.  

“I honestly can’t believe it even happened. I mean wtf. I can’t go to punk shows now?”  I said considering my skin tone’s effect on some people, especially with the current state of our divided society, politics, and the election with that tiny dicked bigot. At the thought, I became less shaken and more angered at the fact that it had happened. Before my emotions steered towards explosive, I decompressed what was rising, and let Zenith’s words begin to smooth things back towards energetic normalcy.  

“I wish I would have been there to protect you. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t. It really sounds like you fuckin handled it though, tough girl,” he said somehow turning the conversation an octave sexier. More of the fear seeped out of me, to be replaced by pools of liquid pleasantries. I laughed and rose a bit to anxiousness to see him, happy to be leaving the nightmarish scene far behind.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that,” I said with an audible smile in my voice, bare flesh suddenly passing in flashes across my mind’s eye. I heard a deep sound rise out of him in response as the reflex passed in astral imagery between us.  

“Um…” I said, almost as if beginning to answer a question he hadn’t asked. Not verbally, at least.  A blanket of silence rested neatly for a few moments where there were no words to be said, as we let the picture stream invisibly link us in seamlessly perfect time.

“So yeah I should be there in like…7 minutes or so?” I said in an inquisitive tone, though I’d taken this route several times and already knew the answer.  

“Yes”, he responded short and creepily. I gave a quick, breathy giggle, my energy receding in amicable response.  

“Okay,” I said, the ‘k’ being the only thing not making the word a whisper.

“Also I think I have something you might like. It might be kind of weird and life-changing if we use it correctly, and simultaneously.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, my curiosity sparked.  

“Yep. It’s this herb you can smoke or steep called Mugwort. It’s supposed to induce lucid dreams. So that could be potentially interesting. And very adventurous.”

“Hmm. Right it could.” I pondered the multi-dimensional possibilities quietly for a second or two. “Okay I’ll be there in a second,” I said now 5 minutes away from his apartment and suddenly anxious to get off the phone. I pressed the end button and gazed out of the window as the night slid by.  “Astral travels”, I said aloud to no one in particular, in the same night that I’d sliced open a man’s face, piercing some of that which holds us to down to 3D reality. Things were getting interesting, and I was ready for weirdness.

The cab stopped and the fare read $5.55. I dug in my pocket to find his pay. When I looked up at the cabbie, his face wasn’t there, but a swirling black  void with glowing green eyes stared back at me. I screamed and dropped the money on the cab floor, which seemed to have some kind of bursting effect on a bubble of “reality” I hadn’t  realized I’d been in.

“Ma’am? Ma’am are you okay? The cabbie said to me with a concerned look on his face that was suddenly completely back to normal.

“Uh...y-yeah...I’m…” I picked up the money from the cab floor, making sure my eyes didn’t leave his face for more than a second or two. What the hell had just happened? Unsure of everything my eyes were seeing at this point, and being shaken enough for one night, I reluctantly handed the cab driver the money as if contact with him would have burned me.

“Thank you ma’am, good night”, he said while eerily staring and smiling in my direction. I gave his face a once over looking for clues as to what had just happened, but could find nothing. He was just a regular ‘ole cabbie with an unusual insertion of smiles...Right? I relieved my eyes of him, and opened the cab door, placing my boots onto the pavement, slamming the door behind me. Finally I was where I *really* wanted to be, soon to be cradled in safety.

Photo by TH Taylor

Photo by TH Taylor