Tag Archive: witch


grave witchGood morning my darklings.  I haven’t posted in a while, I know.  But I’ve managed to be a very busy yet somehow boring girl lately. lol  I still don’t have much but I’ll tell you this picture’s story in a poem.  I love cemeteries and witchcraft so I’d love this job.

She walks the ground from yard to yard

This powerful witch that stays on guard

The ones she keeps are the ones she loves

And her flock of ravens that circle above

The mist will carry her to where there needs tending

And her task is forever, unending

The humans who see her know to look away

Or it could be their punishment to be forced to stay

In her fields full of headstones, of angels, of arches

Touching each with magic as she marches

She holds the grace of the art of the dead

Dressed in black for the occasion from toe to head

And each night when she is through

She looks at her lists that may contain you

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Spring Cleaning the Energy

smudge stickdressy witchGood morning my darklings.  Today I’m doing some spring cleaning of the energy in my house.  Last weekend at the witch store, I bought my first smudge stick.  Really I should have done this the moment we moved into this house and periodically afterwards but I wasn’t sure how and I wasn’t doing anything dark so I figured it would be okay.

But in 6 years I’ve done a lot of spells in my home and had some spirits pass through and one little ghost girl who stayed.  It’s time to get rid of all of that and give my ghost girl a chance to cross over if she wants to.

Oddly enough, one of the pages on FaceBook that I like had a post this morning on smudging.  It filled in the holes in my knowledge and it seemed that everyone who commented had just bought a smudge stick within the past two weeks and we were all holding off for some reason.  It seems it’s spring cleaning time for witches. 🙂

I know what smudge stick is made of, sage or white sage, lavender generally unless you’re smudging for something specific and then there may be other herbs entwined.  I know the ways to use it, either light it and let the smoke dissipate around the house or objects, or light and carry it on or in something heat proof and use a feather, fan or your hand the waft it around, making sure to get into the corners of the room or rooms.  What I didn’t know was what to say.   Was there a specific spell?  Did you just focus on cleansing.  Turns out I can say what I like as long as it feels right and I focus.

So we all know by now that my husband is anti-witch and smudging with him around would be a big no-no.  But he has a viewing to go to today so he’ll be gone for a few hours and as not nice as it may seem, I might take that opportunity to do my smudging.  Hopefully it will cleanse things well enough that my castings work better and stop drawing negative energy.  Maybe even my writing will come more smoothly.  Maybe the negativity has been making it hard for my muse to get through to me.  Who knows?  The point is, I’m doing it now that I have full knowledge, because you should never do any witchiness without completely understanding what you are about to do.

Happy Ostara!

ostara_003Good morning my darklings and especially today, my witchlings.  Happy Ostara to everyone.  This is the Vernal Equinox when night and day are equal.  And being from German heritage, I have to say that long ago, Ostara was thier name for their goddess of Sping.

This picture is an extremely elaborate picture of Coven celebrating Ostara.  In the center of the altar you can see many decorated eggs.  They symbolize, of course, fertility and the bringing of new life.  There are deer but rabbits would be nice since they were ancient signs of spring coming because of mating season.  You can see the cardinal direction at the points of the pentagram, symbolizing earth, air, fire, water and spirit  And I think there may be a skyclad witch or two in there and a few dressed as fairies. lol  There are flowers and daffodils, symbols of spring.

How beautiful it would be to see this.  As a solitary, I don’t belong to a coven.  But the picture is so ethereal and magical just to look at.  Sometimes it’s lonely to be a solitary witch and a weird one at that.

But Ostara is a time for joy not being bummed out.  The days will get longer and warmer as the sun returns, gardens with sprout and grow, maybe someone will find their soul mate.  It’s a time of life and possibilities and I wish all of my friends those things.  Happy Ostara and the return of spring.  🙂

Working, Writing and Witching

working witchGood morning my darklings.  I have planned a full day for myself with working, writing and witching.  It may be too much since I’m not supposed to do anything.  But we have to face facts, when you’re a writer, mother, housewife and let’s not forget witch, things have to get done, bedrest or not.  So even though I’d like to do things in the complete opposite order, I won’t.  Clutter makes it hard for me to concentrate and in order to write and be witchy, I’ve got to clean.

I’ve downed a pot of coffee already and mopped so the progress has begun.  Dishes and dusting are up next and then it will be laundry in between chapters and spells.  That’s my  plan of attack anyway.  At least for the writing and casting I’ll be sitting down.

And really the spells might have to be canceled.  I’ve thought of a plot twist for one of my books and there’s no way that I won’t  obsess over it either.  The details will be pushing through my brain while I clean the kids’ rooms.  My hands will want to type as I fold laundry.  And my mind will wander while I do the dishes.  The more I write about it here, the less I want to do anything else.

That’s the magic and curse of being a writer.  You still have to live a life.  You can’t spend forever lost in your book while the house falls down around you but can clean the house first to make your husband happy and he won’t have as much issue when you do fall down the rabbit hole into the world you created.  A world where the houses are always clean and the laundry is always done and all your main character has to do is make it through from beginning to end.

Insecurity

blessingGoody morning my darklings.  I just want to take a moment to say thank you and give my Witchy Blessings to those of you who read my blog, the new followers and all of you who have liked my posts lately.  Setting up this blog a year and a half ago was terrifying for me.  What if no one read it?  Worse, what if people read it and left comments like:  You suck.  This is the worst blog ever!  But that hasn’t happened and I wanted to let you all know I appreciate it and I’ll send out some nice witch vibes as a thank you.

Now that aside, today is about my writing insecurities.  I generally feel that I’m a good writer with ideas that people will enjoy reading but sometimes I get worried that people won’t like what I write.  Maybe that’s a problem all writers have when they’re working on their perspective books.  Luckily, I’ll usually come up with a twist or a new scene that makes me feel like I do have what it takes to be succesful and that passes.  For a while at least. lol

But all my darklings, witchlings and gothlings help me through those bits of time by reading this and liking it.  When I write and post a short story for all of you to read and you do, the comments that are left give me back more of my security.  I appreciate that and the feeling of acceptance.

So thanks.  And may you all have a witch blessed day where you can see some of the magic in this world.  🙂

So Far So Good

mistakess witchGood morning my darklings.  Well we’ve entered day two of my self imposed schedule and so far so good.  Once again I’ve got my coffee and cigarettes and I’m ready to do my blog.  There’s nothing right now to take my mind off of it except where the new book will be going this morning.  The dishes are washing in the dishwasher and a batch of clothes are in the dryer.  The only problem with that is that by the time that’s done I’ll have a bunch of baskets of clothes to put away and that’s my least favorite part.  I’d rather scrub the bathrooms. lol

But anyway it seems that my adhering to a schedule is having an effect on the kids.  Homework was done as soon as we got home followed by dinner and baths and then bed without a hitch.  That gave me time to do some more cleaning before I started writing on the older book.

I’m not one for schedules but if this keeps up, I’m going to do my best to stick to it.  I’m getting my writing done the way I like and the house doesn’t look like I’m getting my writing done the way I like. lol  What a shame that in two weeks I’ll go in for my surgery and it will all go to hell.  I’ll just have to start it over again.  If I can get this ingrained in all of us before March 12th, maybe it will be easy to go back to it when I’m done with recovery.  One can only hope, right.  And if that doesn’t work, a little witchcraft never hurt anyone. 🙂

Almost Possession

Good morning my darklings.  I know for sure most of you reading this have seen The Exorcist.  I’ve seen it countless times and, thought the movie and the remastered version with outtakes, are excellent, I am a writer and have read the book.  The book is better on the simple fact that if you can forget about the movie and let your mind create the pictures, it’s much scarier.  Plus the boy that Mr. Blatty based the book on is from Maryland so there’s that hometown connection.  But this blog isn’t about The Exorcist, or the mediocre follow-ups.  This is about a personal experience of what I, and others that I’ve talked to (no Priests, they freak me out but people of my witchly ways) feel was an attempt on me at a point in my life.  Okay, here’s the short version.

Okay, so it starts in a dream of my schools cafeteria and it’s one of those dreams that even though you don’t know you’re dreaming, you know everything is not right.  The familiar surroundings are off somehow.  My friends are giving off some unnatural bad vibe that makes me want to just get away from them.  They move too fast, then too slow.  I feel like the room is talking about me even though I’m good at blending into the background.  Then into the scenario comes an ultra good-looking guy.  One that suits just my tastes at the time.  I’m confused but he seems sure of himself in the situation like everything’s normal and all of a sudden I am positive that I’m the one with issue, not what’s happening around me, not the feeling of unease in my stomach or the urge telling me to run mingling with the fear that tells me to stay in the exact place I’ve found to be out of the way in and freeze/hide so I don’t draw attention to myself.

But Mr. Gorgeous with the black hair and sunglasses finds me with a simple glance around the room.  Suddenly my table is empty except for Mr. Gorgeous who is now sitting across from me.  He’s talking to me and I can’t understand the words until he tell says, “You will.”  He leans over and takes my hand, it’s warm and strong and I like it as much as some part of my brain is still screaming to run but from miles away.  I guess this would be called The Swoon.  He takes his sunglasses off and then reaches over to hold my wrist with that hand in what would seem a normal manner if the crowd in the cafeteria wasn’t surrounding us to watch.  He has nice normal brown eyes that bleed over to fully black and I’m sure it’s because he allows it that I can pull my hand away.

Thankfully true fear kicks in and I realize that I’m not dreaming.  I never ate lunch in the cafe.  I ate outside with my friends.  I went to an all girls high school.  Pieces like that start to fall into place as I finally get up to run.  He turns to watch a smile on his face that still manages to turn my heart over.  But the harder I run and the more I beg myself to wake up, the heavier my legs get.  I resort to screaming my own name in my head louder and louder, as loud as I think I can possibly push energy through my sleeping head.  The crowd closes in on me and I sit straight up in my bed.

I lean back but not lay back.  I’m too afraid I’ll go back to sleep.  I think about going to get my mother, but I was a teenager and that officially made me too old to need my mommy for a nightmare no matter disturbing it was.  So I sit there.  There dark is not so dark and I can see my room and take comfort in the nice normal (for me) surroundings.  My night side table with the draped lamp “for ambiance”, my shelves of books, incense burners, charm holders, unicorns from my boyfriend, the vanity full of goth make-up and the fishnets I had just dropped on the floor with my Doc’s.  I eyed the closet because there was definitely something there.  I’d always sensed it but had put up my minor witch shields and felt safe in them then, though I’d laugh at them now.

Then, to my ultimate horror, this darkened almost golden mist began from my shelves, falling to the floor and headed for me bed, like a noxious vapor.  Was I awake?  Was this real?  Was I still asleep and still doing a battle of wills with Mr. Gorgeous?  I didn’t want to know.  I wanted out of the room.  But when I tried to move it was like the dream and my legs refused to obey me.  I was still dreaming and only thought I was awake.  He’d given me my comfort but wasn’t done.  The mist crawled up the bottom of my bed and began encompassing me from my feet and working its way up.  I knew that if it covered me, I’d be gone.  I’d be his and whatever came with that.  I laid back on my pillows and pulled at all the will, all the magic I had and didn’t know I had.  I called to powers that would listen because back then I didn’t know all the names.  I just threw power at the ever creeping dark gold mist and the powers that be for help to save me.

Eventually the mist subsided, sliding down my legs like peeling skin.  And I did wake up, sitting straight up in my bed, afraid of a repeat because I was exhausted and wasn’t sure if I had any fight left in me.  But it had taken, what I assume now was the whole night because just the pinkish orange rays of sun were touching the corner of my window and I felt safe.

I got out my bed, glad that my legs decided to listen this time and made some coffee while my parents slept unaware.  I went outside to sneak a cigarette.  I deserved it.  But the coffee and cigarette breakfast are now my morning routine.  I hope to never go through that again, though I think I’m much more capable to deal with it and maybe that’s why I haven’t.  But I do still have dreams where I wake up crying and usually, if I remember them, there’s a very handsome man in the back with dark sunglasses.

The Witch’s Ghost

Good Morning darklings.  My stories continue.  The more I think about what I’ll write the next day, the more I think I would have had enough for the whole month if I’d had the time to blog.  Or a working computer. 🙂  That just lets me pick through my favorites and the ones that stick out the most.  This one stood out because it was so scary when it happened but has faded for me now to just a memory I think about sometimes.  Some of these may show up in a book one day, but I guess I can’t plagiarise myself.

So this happened before I started practicing witchcraft.  I was still just a young goth chic then who hid her Tarot cards, dressed in black, watched every horror movie I could get my hands on and played with Quija boards.  Qui-Ja, not We-Gee, that bugs the hell out of me, french and German for yes.  It was October, approaching Halloween and all the Haunted Houses were open.  My boyfriend at the time and a bunch of our friends went to one.  It was okay but left us feeling the need to be really scared.  Like we’d stumbled into a horror movie a la Texas Chainsaw Massacre scared, except we all live in the end and don’t become dinner for Leatherface and the fam.  Someone spoke up that we were near the Witch’s House.  I wasn’t from the area so I asked what it was.

I was reminded of the black and white pictures I’d been shown earlier of a tree but there was some kind of human like shape that hung from the tree.  That was apparently because the witch lived alone, a group of people went into her house and hung her from the tree.  Okay, I was game.  We talked the others into it were off to see if we could see a ghost.

There were enough of us that we had to take a packed minivan and parked it behind some bushes, which had us approaching the house from the side of the tree.  It was eerily exactly as it had been in the picture, dark, thick arms reaching spindly fingers up and out.  The house was in complete blackness, every four pained glass reflecting the world around it.  Shingles hung from the roof or were missing, the wood looked bare and gray, free of any paint.  I kept my eye on the tree for the ghost until we were past it and then listened for the squeaking sound of a rope swinging in the silence, or what was left of it with us tromping through the deep weeds and grass.

I wondered what we were going to do once we actually got to the house.  Is it breaking and entering if no one lives there, or had lived there for a long time?  My fear of police and my mother was weighing with my excitement of getting in and exploring even as we all knew that I’d be the one to put my hand on the door and turn the knob first.  I’d say we were 60 feet from the back of the house when a light came on as bright as a lamp with no shade but it cast no shadows and there was no electricity.

That was apparently proof enough of a ghost for my friends, and even my boyfriend, as they turned almost in unison and began to haul ass to the minivan.  Fear is contagious, so I gave one last look at the light, hoping for a face and getting none before following them.  The tree was no longer a concern.  Not getting left behind was much worse and I run sloooowww.  Add a pair of Doc’s to that and it might as well have been a slow jog or even a fast walk.  But I made it back, slid the door shut before we peeled gravel and got out of there, no one but me looking back at the lone light in the black night.