A single gray balloon was how the anomaly first successfully both greeted me and transfixed my attention. It was late September, and the bleeding analog digits on the clock on the nightstand seemed to read 11:30. I was supposed to be asleep by now. I had been asleep a few moments ago, but that moment had already long since expired since I’d come to the realization that something had disturbed the peace here. The room was dark: stars in the sky were hidden by the drawn window shade, and the golden beacon from the crack under the door had been snuffed in the hallway quite a while ago. Everything was still. Everything was calm. Everything was as it should be except for a single gray balloon that was dragging itself in the air back and forth before my eyes. Had it not been for the clock at my side I may not have been able to see it, but the bleary glow managed to cast enough of a filmy red into the abyss that I could make out this balloon and how it bobbed, dragged, and changed directions before my very sleepy eyes. This must have been a really weird dream, a very unique dream—or some sort of important moment of some other nature. There was nobody here but me though: no monsters under the bed, nothing in the closet, no mysterious hand holding that string to drag it, but I was frozen all the same from my spot, a young girl of six, watching this event take place with a half-woken and fear-baited mind.
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Just in case you forgot to flip your calendar over fourteen days ago, you only have about seventeen days left until Halloween, arguably one of the best holidays in the year by thousands of children nation-wide. I doubt very much that you’ve been living under a meteor as large as what’d be required to distract you from this upcoming celebration of adrenaline and fright, and I figure that there’s a fair chance that you’ve already begun to watch your favorite scary movies in preparation for the spirit of this absolutely divine occasion. What sorts of movies are they, I wonder? Are they the traditional ‘70s and ‘80s cult classics like “Halloween,” “The Exorcist,” and “Nightmare on Elm Street?” Are they the modern remade “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” Amityville horror, or “The Omen?” Or, are you more of the full-on classic fan type for flicks like “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” “Nosferatu,” and of course, last but not least: Bela Lugosi's version of “Dracula?” Hopefully you’re not the “Casper the Friendly Ghost” sort of person, but no matter what your pill, I bet it’s been on your mind.
Few of you may be aware, so I’ll fill in the rest of you. I’m engaged to a fellow Satanist, and because we made this joyous and exciting decision to marry, we’re going to have a Satanic wedding where all of our deeply Christian family members are invited to come and celebrate the wonderful event that is “Us.” Of course, this is all really a very funny thing when you take a step back and look at it. Our families still think we’re good innocent little Christian girls who participate in morning prayer and evening vespers.
My mother was raised Catholic. I'm not really sure what this means for her now, though. She's been out of a church building for years because she’s a misanthrope and she's never really exhibited the sort of behavior you'd expect from a Catholic woman except for it's notorious hallmarks. She's never really shared any of her beliefs regarding saints nor have we ever really had a discussion about her god, even when I was being groomed for the role of ‘Obedient Christian Daughter.’ No, the earmarks of her faith come out to me in areas related to social guilt and emotional debt. She married my father, a Protestant (gasp!), and yielded to raising me in his faith path. My extended family is and has always been intrinsically involved with the Christian Church. I was an acolyte from the day they trusted me to carry fire down the throat of the veneration chamber (It was a stomped-upon red-mahogany colored carpet surrounded by dirty wooden pews), and I would spend my Sunday afternoons running around the church like it was my personal playground since my grandmother, aunts, and uncles all additionally worked for the UCC in some shape or form. They were the administrators, the Sunday School teachers, the spaghetti supper throwers, and the Youth Group leaders. They still are, every Sunday, in a ritualistic clockwork that has served them far better than ever it did me. I've been to my cousins weddings, every single one of them since they're older than I, and they were all gloriously sappy in gratitude to the Lord God Almighty (aka: Yahweh or ‘He who must not be named'), for the blessings brought to them on that day of merriment which were not being bestowed in third world countries to starving children….But nobody thinks about that at weddings, do they? It's about the champagne, the dancing, the self-deception. Back in the days of old, man had a lot more time to sit around and think about things. They thought about the sky, they thought about how water flowed downhill, and they thought about their gods. It’s a known fact to atheists that religions are nothing more than the product of the human mind, and Satanism (as codified by Anton LaVey) embraces this truth as well.
I’ve been reading quite a bit (coincidentally, it’s been a cluster) of opinion pieces recently about the concept of flocks. The men who designed Christianity were very clever people – and of course, clever and smart may not mean the same thing, but they were clever enough to get many folks to believe their lie even when it didn’t make any sense (incredibly clever)! Successfully controlling something demands that one takes into account “the balance.” In the aim to design a religion that will entrance a horde of the average to perform to your whim, you need to allow there to be enough conflict and celebration to keep them occupied enough to never question what could be outside of the four fences of their pens. You know, I have some experience with this. What sort of witch would I be if I didn't experience some sort of blowup here and there? I'm the sort of person whose drive can be found in the concept of drive itself. I want to advance because I want to see how much ground I can take. Call it lust for accomplishment or greed for success. Call it pride in self or violence in passion. Whatever you want to call it, I am this way and I embrace it.It's easiest for me to be competitive fairly in the workplace. I find it's a fair sort of battleground where anything goes, where you're dealing with other people as opponents and where the rewards can be quite lucrative. I'm a corporate personality type in the business world.
I'm sly, I'm ruthless. I don't do a single thing without knowing exactly what that energy is being put towards. I'm a "project manager" of people in business, and the game has brought me to the most unexpected places you could imagine. It's a blast. It's a thrill. It's ALL just LESSER MAGIC. Lesser magic can be dumbed-down to the concept of "Manipulation." It's how you get what you want by doing things that ordinary sheeple don't think of. I think a lot of the time Lesser Magic is abused by the fallacy that it's "passive" magic or just something that is easy and comes naturally to some people. Oh no, no no. If you're going to be a successful witch (neuter) you'll quickly come to honor it for what it is. Lesser Magic takes more energy than Greater Magic and it's produced more concrete results in my world than Greater Magic has. Why? I'll tell you why: |
Who is the Witch?
Once I called myself a Christian, then an atheist, and a Satanist. At the end of the day, I'm just a person who is living her truth one day at a time. I'm interested in religion, its effects on the mind, the occult, and more. Learn more about me on the about page. Hellish History
November 2021
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