A Creative Vigilante

Have you ever seen a portrait of someone and been instantly mesmerized by it?

When you enter my bakery there is a black and white photo of a mug shot on display right by the cash register. This is a photo of my great grandmother Eastorhild.

In the picture Eastorhild is proud and her sheer defiance exudes from the angle of her chin. Her gaze is piercing, and she has the slightest upward curve on her lips. Her expression is the embodiment of the phrase

“Given the chance, I’d do it again”

My great grandmother was raised in the silent generation, where children were seen and not heard. Where women were simultaneously fierce but also trapped by circumstance.

I am a generational witch, as was my great grandmother. Eastorhild learned that being a hexe (witch) is largely about listening and learning. Listening to people’s words, thoughts, auras, and palms but also listening to nature and harnessing its divine power.

At a young age she witnessed the villagers visiting the women in her family looking for enchantments, protections, and healing potions. She also learned that circumstances occasionally made people desperate. Most importantly she learned that there is a spiritual side to helping people. All these lessons are passed down by the women in my family.

Her mug shot hangs in my shop to remind me of this.

Located in a small town near the black forest in Baden-Wurttemberg Germany. The decor in my bakery is a cozy muted red upholstery with cream embroidered curtains on small wood framed windows. I bought it this way and haven’t changed it. It is comfortable without being pretentious. The bakery is a converted home on the main street DonaustraBe in Fridingen. It has apartments upstairs that I rent out, and an apartment on the main floor at the back of the bakery for me. A single woman in my fifties I am comfortable embracing the Crone aesthetic.

It was a sharp day in October the day I met Frida. The air had a slight bite to it signaling that summer had completely passed. I remember thinking it was time to transition to warmer spices infused into my baked goods. That day she entered my small empty bakery, the bell above the door chimed announcing her arrival. She paused momentarily to quickly visually assess the space before nervously proceeding to the counter.

I waited behind the register in silence as she absorbed the photo by the till. I knew what she was here for, it is evident in the way she carried herself. I could read it in her aura.

Normally a confident person I could see that something was disturbing her sense of safety.

Her neighbour Leon had been harassing her for the last few months and this had escalated to more than just a mild nuisance in her life.

Frida stopped looking at the photo and looked at me. I held her gaze and waited for her to speak. She scratched the inside of her elbow nervously, broke eye contact with me and glanced at the bakery display. After ordering an apple strudel and a coffee crema she waited at one of the small tables in the furthest corner of the bakery.

When I served her the coffee and strudel, she nervously tells me that her great aunt had told her about my bakery and the off-menu services available. She needed the help of die Zauberei (witchcraft). Sitting down at her table I asked her to elaborate on what her exact concern was.

Her neighbour was intentionally tormenting her. Syphoning the petrol out of her car while she slept at night, pouring salt on her lawn, and throwing pebbles at her dog when he was alone in her yard. o Most recently he was being increasingly rude and obnoxious directly at her. She was fed up and felt trapped by his bullying. Her great aunt told her to come see me because Hexe stories. I had read Frida the moment she came in and knew how desperate she was for some peace. I knew I could help her but needed to gage what her intentions were. The best way to do that of course was the iconic photo of my great grandmother.

“You noticed the photo of Eastorhild when you came in. She is there to remind me to help others. She was arrested for freeing a family member from an abusive marriage. Do you know how she did it?”

Frida responded that she didn’t know the details.

“This family member that needed help was in a particularly challenging situation. There was repeated severe abuse and the blatant neglect of justice for a young newlywed. Magic was sought as a solution as a last result.”

“Eastorhild tried white magic at first, and then she tried green magic. But nothing seemed to work. So finally, she tried black magic. She was creative and she baked the black magic into a black forest cake and told the woman to feed a slice of it to her husband and no other.”

“It worked.”

“Unfortunately for Eastorhild they arrested her because they thought that he had been poisoned at her hand. However, nothing was found forensically that could have linked her to poisoning him. And they could not charge her with black magic, so she was set free.”

Now I know that the source black magic in that black forest cake was especially sinister. It was none other than glass that had been crushed into a fine powder and baked into the cake. But that is a family secret, one that I could not disclose in case I ever needed to use it.

Ruthless?

Maybe.

I choose to think of it as creative vigilantism. I am proud of who I am and who I come from.

The power in Eastorhild’s eyes in that photo, rings through my soul like a tuning fork that has been struck.

However, Black magic is reserved for only the direst of situations. Frida’s case was milder. I looked and Frida and guided her decision to a peaceful solution.

“As the solution to your problem I would suggest starting with a combination of white magic and green magic at first.” Then jokingly I said, “I don’t want my mug shot hanging on the wall.”

“However, if this nuisance persists, I wouldn’t hesitate to increase the severity of the discomfort we can cause him.”

Frida agreed to the price for the following:

1. An incantation done by me for a severe infestation of insects in his home. 2. Some protection salts for her property. 3. Enchantment of the necklace she was wearing so it became a protection amulet.

The amulet should deter him from harassing her, the salts were to protect her home, and the insects were for retribution.

Satisfied with her visit, Frida paid for her baked goods and additional services, bought a black forest cake to go, and left. Smiling at the mug shot on the way out the door.