Monday, May 20, 2013


Inside the gris-gris are the symbols, numbering three: a lock of hair, a bobby pin, a scrap of paper with writing. Sprinkled with blessed water, the amulet is not a plaything. The hoodoo I conjure is meant to uncross that which has vexed me.

The doll comes from Louisiana. I exchanged no money for it; that would disrespect its power and purpose. It came to me from behind a closed door and I have never used it, for good or ill, until now. Saint Expedite, keep me from crossing the boundary. I do not wish to destroy my enemies. I only wish them to confound them.

It has come to this, yes. Spirits of the material world have only dizzied my head. Perhaps the spirits I cannot yet see will serve me.

Do I believe all this? Perhaps not — but I have experienced weird things in my life and do not think science knows all. Not yet, at least. The things I believe are myriad and mysterious and after the last few years I no longer pretend to think I know it all. There are things out there that only the foolish and stubbornly naive will dismiss as chance, or coincidence.

I have reached the end of my rope, and reason. Dabbling in the dark arts may be ridiculous. But so is the dark existence I currently live.

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