Saturday, 5 October 2013

A Spell

                          "Like the windy breeze
                          Or the ice thou freeze,
                           Like the seasons turn
                           And the fire that burns,
                           Grow-grow richly so,
                           Blossom from the womb
                            Of your earthly tomb.
                             A precious gift to thee
                                 Of everlasting        ecstasy !"

This is a spell, an ancient spell to bring new life into our world- a plant. The second person references are made to Mother Earth- the all knowing deity under whose love and guidance the human race as a whole thrives.

Precautionary Measures( while using the spell)

"Everything comes with an equivalent price."
This is a renowned fundamental statement and unfortunately very true. For every spell there must be about equivalent sacrifice. Sacrifice equalling the fact that you will be bringing new life into our world. It should not necessarily be a life(that would be illegal)!), it could be an article having a little emotion attached to it, belonging to anyone.

There is of course another way, but one that you must attempt sincerely, not following which could result in a potentially disastrous situation, the effects of which could even be permanent. Here's the catch- you must think of an already departed soul or concentrate on a specific tree that has been destroyed or deforested and then proceed with the enchantment of the spell. But remember your full concentration should be on these departed souls and not on any wayward thoughts. Everything else should be fine.

- Potions & Broomsticks(the monthly magazine for witches and wizards)
(An article from an anonymous witch)

A Mythical Beast

02 OCTOBER 2013, 09:37 AM

With a long ten metre body, with razor sharp claws that could rip flesh off in a moment, the body covered with an array of rotting skin and a few last remaining feathers from its days of glory, the beast remained forever exiled from its home, from its days past, exiled by creatures which called themselves the loved creation of God. Its head, grotesquely shaped, misshapen by its tormentors of the past, looked up and out to a freedom it has known but been deprived of. Sharp, yellowed and decayed teeth protruded out from its mouth. Its skin bore the marks of the wars it had faced, the wars which had made him an outcast, a reject, a thing to be despised. Surrounded by the smell of decayed flesh, it screams, it screams in agony, longing for its past life, for a life of joy, a life of acceptance.
But darkness has prevailed, its mind has been conquered, turning it into chthonic monster.
It searches for its victims, seeking its revenge against the race that put it there.

In a dark cave among the rugged lonely mountain it awaits its prey...patiently... with a bloodthirsty vengeance.

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