The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
The family business
The endless uneasiness began several years ago in the past. It was in 1963 when I was old enough to be considered fit -in the eyes of my parents- to take a look at the family business. Before the aforementioned, my first reaction was characterized by having a most horrendous nature, being the same caused by the disgusting screams that resounded in the small space where the poor soul resided bathed in natural dyes that caused me little curiosity, but the worst It was not the vision that was shared with me or the place where they brought me at a very young age, but rather the actions that I had to commit to prove my worth while holding the subscription to keep an eye on the family business. Rooms surrounded by stones and metals arranged in precise ways that denoted moss that probably dated from several centuries in the past, which spoke of a continuation of this trade through the years. In my explorations in those infinite underground catacombs, I was able to perceive various screams that enjoyed different accents... Horrifying exclamations based on the claims of beings who shouted for help, some, shouted their origin, as well as their connection with the earthly world, that, froze my blood... However, the gloomiest thing waited patiently at the end of the long corridor through which I walked, after all, that "being" expressed a demanding mental authority as I approached the radius of the reach of his spirit. I was confused. Raised by loving parents who constantly gave me gifts of adorable proportions, the same ones who used to play by my side when I was still young and preserved the innocence of the child, those who stayed by my side when an illness lodged in my body and did not want to leave, therefore, what I observed froze my soul... Drawing it towards the vastness of the darkness that surrounded the truth that I believed my life supposed to be, wrapping it between the grotesque that was two floors below the house where I grew up and lost my first teeth, or create the odd memory. Plus, the undeniable truth that was shown to me at the young age of eight allowed me to possess a certain knowledge beyond what is achievable by humanity, after all, the limits of what my eyes witnessed, of the disgusting screams that invaded my first home, of the repulsive tissues that I got to reach; it, all, snatched the few tears that came from my eyes to give my vision new colors that I would use to judge humanity. Such knowledge cannot be learned, much less narrated... It must be observed, witnessed, smelled and touched to complete the complexity of its understanding, thus, those ancient runes, those words spoken in untouchable or never heard languages can be understood by the human brain...
Atticus’ Last Stand
Atticus McClarty drags himself off the bed and sluggishly gets in the shower. His wife, Laura is the complete opposite! There’s a stark exuberance in her eyes as she manages to remain attentive to her twin sons, Darren and Franklin while finishing breakfast. The twins who are eight, are showing off their latest drawings to their mother. It’s hard to understand what she is seeing, but Laura won’t let them know and instead, she smiles and says, “This is so good! You two are amazing! Keep it up.” As the twins start drawing their next set of art, Atticus walks in and sits down to eat food.
I sit in the white tower which commands the northern end of the gardens, and which has contained my whole existence for as long as I can remember. The sun’s warmth does not reach here, it remains cold all year round, and a thin layer of snow is gently falling upon the hard ground where it will lay unchanged for most of the year. I think I probably once wandered between those desolate oaks I see out there, climbed among the strange stones nearby, and circled around the black, noiseless ponds. But I only remember watching through the window. Nor do I recall venturing into the forest beyond the garden, but I imagine it is immeasurably deep and infinitely decaying.
The Book of Command
“You’re... calling off the search?” I echoed emptily back into the telephone receiver. For months I’ve tried to prepare myself in the event those exact words were spoken to me, and considering the wave of emotion I could feel beginning to surge, it is now apparent that I had severely under prepared.
I stood watching the sunlight hit the pier, smiling as the light reflected off the water’s surface. The scent of salt water hit my nose, and the pelicans squawking overhead added to the ambience of the carnival.
Dreams & Desires
The sun was shining brightly, people were bustling around doing their afternoon shopping and even the birds seemed to be in a good mood singing to each other from the nearby terrace.
The Last Percocet Pepsi
Margaret is chasing her dog in clumsy circles on my front lawn. She’s 75. How do they not catch you? I lower myself to the carpet and crawl to the window. Rising to peer over the sill, I freeze. Her dirty face breathes, open mouthed, just a few feet from my own. Her slow, bleached gaze finds me, and she bares rusty teeth.
What did we sell?
"Just a glass of water, no ice," the old man said in a raspy voice to the waitress as she took our orders. Juan called him the benefactor, a sickly old man dressed in a refined black coat, baggy suit, black mask, and what looked to be an old-style of Ray-Ban sunglasses. We sat at a booth at the Frontier restaurant across from the University of New Mexico, a sort of hub for some of our commissions and client meetings.
Buck's Birthday Weekend
I was on my way to visit my hometown for my friend Buck's birthday when I pulled off the interstate deciding to take the scenic route and hopefully find a sub shop that looked good in one of the small towns I'd pass through. I was in no hurry to get there so it seemed like the perfect chance to do something like this. After all, I had several hours before meeting Buck and his wife, Sam.
An Atheist's Exorcism
The first thing I heard was a rattle. No, more like a roar. It was deafening, like my head was inside a jet engine, the kind of sound that stops your heart, punches your gut. It wasn’t just in my ears, but in my entire body. It was in my chattering teeth, in my balled-up fists. It was in my chest which burned like I’d swallowed the sun. It moved me, jolted me like Frankenstein’s monster. I was alive, although it dawned on me that I might possibly be dying.
It's coming DOWN. Snow accumulates inch by inch every other hour. A typical nor'easter around these parts of New England. A frustrated man walks towards his car. His name is EDDIE, late twenties, black. Eddie leaves a construction site early in New Hampshire. Preparing himself to make that drive back home to Boston in these soon to be challenging conditions.
Standing nervously in front of a black wooden door, K stares at the a bronze lion head shaped door knocker, the afternoon sun made it glittering as gold, but the hollowed eyes give the creature a soulless display. Suddenly K feels an impermeable chill zip through his spine, shivering involuntarily, he quickly gripped the ring that dangles from the lion’s mouth. (knock, knock, knock).