Don’t Mess With Black Magic, Stay On The Lighter Side Of The Karmic Wheel.
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… and she said, “I am a witch, and I practice black magic.” As she spoke, her words were casual, calculated and icy.
She was looking for some kind of reaction from me — I gave her none. I simply acknowledged her declaration with little or no surprise — but inside, I had deep concern about her words. They were not a joke, and there was a slight bit of contempt in her vibe.
My intuition told me to be careful; she was after something, but I couldn’t quite make out her motive.
We had met in a seedy bar and she was immersed in that scene. She called herself an exotic dancer, but that is just a nice way to say she takes her clothes off for money.
She was a beautiful woman — tall, olive skin, dark eyes and dark hair — but there was a heaviness that hung over her like a cloud. She was clearly unaware of her obvious aura that blackened her soul.
Her dismissive attitude toward men was blatant, and she avowed her tendency to other women as she moved closer to me. I shook my head to let her know that I was flattered but not interested.
I gently touched her arm, and as I felt her presence, I was shocked at her energy — cold and detached.
I felt sorry for her in some way, as it was clear she just wanted/needed someone to love.
The night moved as it does, and the drinks flowed. My husband (at the time) was beginning to get wrapped up in her so-called mystique. She flirted with him and led him on more and more. She enjoyed the attention and her allure, and was using it to the fullest. She was testing her powers.
I even egged her on as if to say I was not bothered, which made her try even harder to get a rise from both of us.
The evening moved deeper into a drunken night, and the woman who disliked men was casting her spell on mine. He was falling for her, and I couldn’t do a thing about it.
I wanted to shrug it off, but I couldn’t. Even though they were not touching, their air together was magnetic and evil. I knew she wanted to make trouble with me, with my husband, but I wouldn’t fall into her trap.
At the end of the night, as we all walked to the door, she looked at me, and before we parted she gave me a wicked smile, kissed me goodnight on the cheek, and whispered in my ear, “I will be with you tonight, you will feel me like you do right now… sleep well.”
This sent a chill down my spine and sobered up my drunken head. It pissed me off and I knew, right then, I was in for a nasty ride.
Days went by and my husband’s preoccupation with her grew. He would talk about her a lot. He couldn’t understand why someone as beautiful as she had lesbian tendencies and he even said to some friends, to my dismay, “I could change her — I just have to give it a bit of time.”
He didn’t think I heard him; I did.
He would call her; I would get mad, and he would say, “Shit, we are just friends, she is a damn lesbian, get over it.” As their friendship grew, so did the lies. Missing time, missing money, and missing reality settled into my husband’s bones.
A vile anger began to show, and his eyes got distant and mean. He was turning into this ugly man — drinking more, not coming home, and turning our home into a battlefield.
Her motives were more than clear now — and her spell worked. The timing was perfect as I was at a point in our marriage or non-marriage where I couldn’t take his addictions, sabotage and lies anymore.
He was a wreck, and I was tired of trying to hold the family together and explaining his sh*t to friends and family.
I remember him sauntering in through the door one afternoon, after not coming home the night before, with no explanation, no care or apology, completely impaired by the flavor of the day (weed and pills), and announcing that She (the self-proclaimed witch) wanted to meet our youngest child. I couldn’t believe it.
Had he lost his mind? A huge fight broke out, and I could feel her, smell her, and I understood the blackness she imposed on him and our family — I was done.
Through the tears, I saw him leave (again) and this time I would not let him come back.
I was very concerned that she would somehow start working her ugly energy on the kids, so I went into overtime/overdrive calling out the big guns (white magic) to protect my family.
They had been subjected to enough wickedness via my ex, and I wasn’t about to lose them, or have their innocent souls tainted anymore.
I knew a woman, a very special woman who specialized in cleaning out toxicity in people, places and thing; it was what she did, but not for money. She simply offered to help people with the unknown world that many deny exists. Her experiences were vast and like something out of a movie.
She had helped me with something else a year before I met my husband… and she had, in fact, pre-warned me but I didn’t decode her messages. Obviously it was meant for me to go through this, and she was there for me again as she knew I would need her to clean up again.
We worked together to dissolve the black tar the so-called witch had laid as a path to her destruction. We found out, practicing black magic was all just a game for her. She wanted to see how far she could get on the dark side, and how many people she could take with her.
She had no feelings for my husband. He was a just a quest, a target, and a test of her abilities. But what an easy mark… he was easily led when wasted.
Because I had met her earlier, I mustered up the strength to call her and we talked about our situation. She all but admitted that she got carried away with the thought of casting spells and her sorcery. There was even the slightest hint of remorse for what she did — but not outwardly.
I told her the magic didn’t work, and in a condescending way, I flat-out offered him to her; I thought he would make the perfect sacrifice to her dark side, yet my offer was not well-received.
My intuition of her was spot on as she told me she longed for a real life, a real man, out of the bar scene, and perhaps a real family — but the irony of it all is that she picked out someone who was not capable of giving her anything close to that.
He was such a mess, but in her mind, she thought, she could change him through her magic. A typical thing that people do… try to mold someone, change someone, and make them something they are not, or will never be.
In hindsight, I am thankful that it is just a thing that happened. It was a horrible thing, but there are many reasons why we go through what we go through. We can mind-f*ck it, let it ruin us, or find our own magic in these moments and move on.
And black or white, magic is nothing more than energy, yet in the wrong hands, it has the propensity to do huge harm. Innocence is laced in ignorance.
The karmic wheel goes around, and we have to remember that our thoughts, words, and actions are magical and will always be a part of our future — it is wise not to mess with the dark side, and instead try to stay on the lighter side of that wheel.
I don’t know where she is now — this was over 20 years ago — but my hope is that she found whatever it was she was trying to find, to create, or just have a taste of.
Or maybe, just maybe, she realized that dark spells only work on the weak-minded, and we don’t need to try our hand in any of it to have happiness.
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Debbie Lynn is a mother, grandmother, artist, writer, dancer, yogi, rock climber, rock collector, and has been known to run with scissors. She is now sailing the West Indies with her husband on Indigo, their catamaran. She realized at a very young age that the outer reality was a far cry from her inner truth, and meeting her inner wisdom head on always turned into a challenge. The wonderment, curiosity and hypocrisy of life led to exploration and a cumulative documentation (art and journaling) of what she lovingly calls ‘the purge’. It is her way of ridding any negative energy from the daily grind. She says, “In essence, it is a way to start fresh and cleanse the soul.” Debbie has had numerous articles published in The Tattooed Buddha, Elephant Journal, The Edge Magazine, Sail Magazine, Multihulls Magazine and Simple Steps Real Life Magazine. Her daily posts can be found on Facebook.
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