Witches and demons

Witches are never born witches, it’s a choice. It’s not what they tell you in children’s stories … They don’t fly on brooms or have talking cats and they don’t have large pimples on their green noses and there are no good witches. The scariest thing is that they look like us and live normally between us and we see them around everyday.

The hair saloon I go to has female workers who are witches. They make sacrifices with chickens that they put in a sink every week, they put special food for their spirits on a little chair in the corner and use sticks of “Bakhour” it’s some kind of smoke that they use to summon spirits for they believe that they bless their jobs and give them success.

I know twins who work in a mall near my house, they look exactly the same and they’re both blind too. One of them sells pastries that he makes and he puts different potions in every kind. There’s the love me pastry, the hate her, the good marriage donuts, the cupcake of destruction.

Normal people think that they’re random names but they’re not. Nothing is random in this world and everything has a plan, a purpose and intentions … This scares me because you never know what those intentions are.

The second twin is an artist. He draws talismans, hidden sigils and Arabian letters in his paintings that form a demon’s name. Special orders for special customers and the more special the order is the more expensive it becomes. It’s all wicked spells and he hides them in the portrait’s eyes mostly whether it’s a hawk or a woman. Each symbol has a meaning and a job to do and he is a an artist on demand. The women love him, his women are loyal to him for they have never ending jealousy.

Old ladies that seem weak and friendly are in their houses with jars, pots and a room to invite them in. A cupboard filled with torn pages of religious books, black animals parts and blood. They just need pictures to do their jobs whether to break up a holy marriage or to put lust in someone’s heart towards the person who pays the money for the job and they call this a love potion. In the old times they needed a whole hair pulled out from the root to harm someone but now it’s all easy that they can just take a picture from Facebook. Women come and go with lots of money to spend.

Those fortune tellers you see … They have their demons around them and they talk to your demon to know what they want to know about you. Then they go to the sky and try to eavesdrop to know about your future until they get hit by lightening.

Most of those humans you see … They did ugly nasty things. They have to do a prayer for Satan before they start. They killed, they went to dig up corpses from their graves to stuff things into their throats. They pee on holy books and drink blood to please the devil. They performed black magic on other people and misguided them into the path of sins.

Each demon has a specific task to do, there’s a demon for divorce, a demon for lust, a demon to spread hatred, a demon who whispers in the ear of a man to seduce him to do terrible things … They all report back to Lucifer. Divorce is what pleases him the most.

There are kings, ministers, soldiers and servants; just like us. They live in ruins, in the bottom of seas, between things like on the staircases and near the doors. They love contradictions so they build castles on top of where the salty water meets the sweet or on where the warm water meets the cold, between shades and light. Some of them live in houses too, they’re called Ammar.

You know what scares me most? It’s that the demonic spirits think highly of themselves, they won’t do you a favour unless you do one for them first. This leaves me in wonder … What is it that they want a human to do for them? How far did these people go to get what they want?

You know why planes and ships disappear in Bermuda’s triangle? You don’t need me to tell you who lives there.
You’ve never felt their presence? You’ve never felt that someone is watching you?
You may not know any of witches or demons but I can tell you for sure that lots of them know you very well.

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The grey one meets grey

I was having a horrible nightmare about a mad clown who slashed his victim’s mouth from ear to ear … He said she has never smiled before and she needed it. I was woken up by the temperature in the room … It was so cold that my feet almost went blue. I woke up breathing out vapour as if it’s winter … On the edge of my bed there sits a grey troubled soul … He was a figure which took a man’s form with his head looking down.

I tried to talk with him and ask what was wrong. Yes, to talk, “Making contact” is a sentence I hate in horror movies. As if they are not like us … They feel and think. Yes they are beyond in another world under ours but they are around too. He took a look at me and faded into thin air. I wished to see him again … What was his name? Why is he in misery? I want to be a good friend and listen … Or am I in love?

I have always been curious and drawn to mystery. We shared a room together anyway, yes just because I own a piece of land on paper that doesn’t make it mine. They were here before us and we took over their world … This was his room before it was mine and he is kind enough to share it. Sometimes I see his diary next to my pillow, a language I can not understand. It looks Arabic but somehow in reverse, I’m not sure.

He’s not the only one I see, but he is the only one who is grey. I always wonder if the ones living in homes with us are different than those who live in seas, remains and near the graves. I have met some unpleasant creatures; half a goat, impossible to catch, their children, the deformed one who has a story of his own.

He, on the other hand, is more closer to my heart. He has a story that I want and he left me all alone. I am going on a mission to the ancient world beneath ours, of course I have to take permission from their king to get in and out. I shall make a deal with the witch who lives next door, I have a book that she wants and she knows how to summon kings and the retinue, she is well connected.

I wonder if the king will allow me to come back again if I knew too much … Will I find him? Will he tell me his story? Will my journey be unexpected and deadly? I must take this adventure even if I have to travel by spirit and leave my rotten body on this bed of mine. It is worth all the trouble. You will not understand … Not until the veil is removed; a curse yet a blessing. Our existence is metaphysical and beyond the human mind’s limitations, that is what you normal people need to know. Till then, see you …. Maybe.