Don't Mess With Witchcraft!

From: 
Story type: Channelling
Location: Hayward, California
Source: Form Submission
Date submitted: Tue Mar 20 12:38:03 2007

When I was eighteen years of age, I met a rather strage fellow named Dave. Dave was an eccentric character. He had been a member of almost every religion known to man. He had been both a member of a gang in Oakland, and later, a member of the Ku Klux Klan (which is rather odd for a Blackfoot Indian). While I knew him, Dave decided he'd like to experiment with Wicca.

Dave began to use runes for fortunetelling, burned powders and chanted incantations to cast spells, and engaged in a host of other activities which I casually categorized as simple "mumbo-jumbo."

One night, in my bedroom, Dave decided to cast a love spell on a certain young woman one of us fancied. (Oddly enough, I can't recall which of us it was.) He wrote her name on a piece of paper, placed some powders on top of it, and burned it in a small crucible while repeating a spell. As I recall, we were then supposed to take the resulting ashes and sprinkle them on her skin somehow, or possibly lie them in her path so she'd walk over them.

During this period of time, strange things began happening to me. I'd see fleeting images in the mirrors on my bedroom closet. I'd feel a sensation as if something had brushed against my neck. Once, when in the bathroom after a shower, a bottle of shampoo flew across the room at me in a horzontal path, striking me in the hip. I spent a good while trying to invent some way the bottle might have obtained its trajectory and velocity aside from supernatural intervention, but to this day, I can't think of one.

Dave finally gave up witchcraft after an episode occurred in his bedroom. He was casting a summoning spell, and it worked! A demonic face appeared in the smoke from his powders, grinning at him. It scared the devil out of him, literally. He ran out of the room. After a few minutes, he returned, waved the smoke away with his hands, opened his window, and called me. Later that day, we burned all of his Wiccan paraphenalia in my backyard. He was never tempted to go back to it.

He sought a blessing from our bishop, and told me that a number of spirits were taken out of him.

I wish I could say that all went well for Dave after that, but it didn't. He lapsed back into alcoholism, and is now confined to a wheelchair. I hope he someday finds what he seems to have spent so much energy looking for.