Originally posted by Nygdan
How is this even possible? The very next day he came into work with this story? Have you had any other events like this? What sort of neighborhood
does he live in, I mean, is this an unusual event for him and his area? Do you know what he was doing out at such a late hour?
I am wondering if the fight you and he had made him go somewhere he wouldn't normally go or anything like that.
Many questions, and I can assure you, I have had much time to ask many of my own. In the passage of two decades, some things have become clear, but
some confound me still. Without getting into details that may be sufficient to identify me, I’ll see what I can provide.
How is this even possible?
I can say that I know that dark spirits, or demons if you prefer, do exist. They are the agents of darkness,
and do the bidding of others. But even the spirit world has labor laws. No one works for free. Woe to those ignorant of the terms of employment!
The very next day he came into work with this story?
Yes. Like I said, I didn’t get it right away, because my mind was in “day mode” --
I didn’t go around thinking about witchcraft all the time, and had pretty much shrugged off the previous night’s oddness when I woke up the next
morning. The pouring of emotion into the pentagram seemed to drain me of hatred -- I felt great the next day. The timing of the previous night’s
events was anything but coincidental, but that fact didn‘t register when I saw him that morning.
Have you had any other events like this?
As far as I know, that was the most physical harm I caused to another human being through such
means. However, I am certain that it is not the most harm I have caused through dark communions, and physical harm is by no means the most harm one
can cause to another. Once I had confirmed “my” power, instead of taking time to realize what I was doing, I embraced the powers of darkness and began
to use them against others around me, like an absolute fool. I can plead youth and stupidity, but they are frail defenses. That was certainly not the
last time I bent my thought to unwholesome tasks.
What sort of neighborhood does he live in, I mean, is this an unusual event for him and his area? Do you know what he was doing out at such a
He lived in a part of town that was neither very nice nor very bad, as the downtown of our city was not the seething den of
corruption most are. He was fond of visiting the local watering holes after work, and staying out late on a weeknight was hardly unusual for him.
It was as he was walking home from a local club that night, as he had done hundreds of times before, that he was accosted by an assailant that he was
never able to describe for police, except as “big” and male. Someone he did not recognize in his own neighborhood, who simply, without word or
fanfare, stepped out of the shadows and summarily beat him almost to death, left without taking anything, was never seen again and never caught.
It just so happened that, across town, at the same time, I was wishing great harm upon him as I gazed into a pentagram. Salt under candlelight has a
natural glow to it. That night, the symbol seemed to glow even more. I reveled in the fact at the time, sensing the energy that was building. When I
heard that brief, insectile buzz, and the anger and hatred poured out of me like water, though I did not know exactly what had happened, I knew full
well at that moment that I had done something bad. I now know that I had dispatched a demon.
While the precise specifics of who, or what, attacked my coworker that night elude me to this day, my longstanding theory is that the demon I
dispatched took hold in the mind of some poor soul who was weak in spirit, but strong of body, and easy prey for demonic influence. Under the guidance
of the demon, he made his way to the ambush point, did that which he was inspired to do, left and may very well not have remembered what he did.
Believe me, I considered all sorts of things to relieve me of guilt. After all, he had angered me by sabotaging me at work, hadn’t he? No doubt he had
simply ticked off the wrong guy and got what was coming to him. It was a coincidence, nothing more! Yeah, that was the ticket! But that was only the
Were that the only thing I did, such rationalizations would probably hold -- if I would have had the good sense to stop then. But I did not.
Subsequently, I was able to make the pentagram glow even more wildly in my meditations, as I used the symbol itself to scry events -- and before
dispatching my so-called “servants” to their tasks. Incredibly, I never really saw myself as “doing evil” then. It was all about “justice” to me. The
I began using blood magic to imbue items with power, coating them with my own blood while willing special abilities into them, including my own
wedding ring -- an act of incredible stupidity which I was later to realize cursed my marriage
. I took actions on the basis of information
provided to me by my dark spirit guides. Oh and so much more, because summoning was clearly my gift
The simple, no-nonsense idea that I was, bottom line, actually summoning and communing with demons never occurred to me as such then -- strange, I
know, it seems obvious enough to me now. They tricked me into believing that the power was my own. But it was all a deception.
As I spent more time with them, I became more like them in my mind. It was like a dark, wonderful dream. At last I had found power! Me! A great magus!
A wizard! My dreams of grandeur knew no limits, and my insights into dark chaos grew at ever-increasing speed as my lust for power grew without limit.
By day, I was a menial worker making paltry wages, but by night, I was a sorcerer! And I was aware of a great many things that others around me were
not. Fool that I was, I thought it was I who was in control.
The feeling of empowerment was intoxicating, and addictive like a drug. I was a beggar king, commanding dark forces to my whim. They know me now --
know me very well, indeed, and they never forget an ill turn. As I write this, I can feel them calling to me, calling me back to them. Not even I know
how far I went into the abyss, many memories are lost to me. It was like I had become two different people, one by day, another by night. Had my wife
not shaken me loose of my madness, I might have never returned.
I have come to realize that there are many, many
of our brothers and sisters who, for so many different reasons, are potential receptacles for
demonic influence. After all, I
was! Only arrogance allowed me to foolishly believe that I was in charge, when it was them all along. There are
many ways by which they can take you, but the doorway always lies in despair.
Little more of that period do I care to discuss publicly, or privately for that matter, and could not tell all if I wished, as toward the end, I
started losing memory of the deeds of the night. It truly was a descent into madness, into the gaping maw of that which consumes all. I wonder that I
could survive with any shred of my being intact. I still wonder.
Even now, knowing what I know, a part of me wants to believe that I am wrong, that it was
me, that I
have the power. It’s a lie. It was
always a lie, a sinister illusion to ensnare my soul.
I’m sorry, but the pain of reliving those days is strong -- I did not sleep well last night after making my original post, and though I will go ahead
and post this, it is with the misgivings of knowing that I am revealing far more than I had ever intended. Even now I can feel the darkness pressing
in on me, the familiarity
of it. These things cannot be recalled without sorrow and tears.
But if anyone can learn anything from this, and perhaps make more enlightened choices in the path they follow as a result, then this public
self-flagellation may yet prove worthwhile.
Edits: Formatting, grammar, spelling and clarity.
[edit on 8/21/2004 by Majic]