The Writer's Room

One of the themes in my writing as of late is mercy. Mercy and salvation alongside love, got me to turn my life around for the better seven months ago, when I met God through a friend of my sister's. I used to be a witch. I was firmly convinced of my faith, deeply in love with it. I didn't need to come back to the first faith that had scarred me to the point of lifelong trauma.

I was shown a different lens this time, and I've always been one to hear out a mile, if to find reason in it. I found nothing at first, just the same stuff I didn't trust before. Yet, when this friend of my sister, named Faith, looked at me and spoke to me, I felt a love come from her eyes, something I'd never felt from anyone else on earth, or from the Gods I was tragically devoted to. I had never gotten to the point where I hated God. I always had a respect for the true Jesus, but didn't believe that was for me.

The turning point was when I was prayed over, by Faith's pastor, and the director of my sister's faith-led recovery group, along with Faith, in my home with my family. It was a pre-planned thing, because the home was infested with paranormal activity and spirits not even my witchcraft could send away. I was a nervous wreck, I didn't trust this, I just wanted these people to pray, make my Christian family feel comforted, and I'd go back to life. Mid prayer over the house, I felt the gods I thought were there to comfort me, turn away. My patron became cold, the others....just not there.

Not answering. I was panicked, more than I already was. I had told them I was just going to oversee, play by the rules until everyone left. They then asked if I wanted to encounter Jesus again. Recalling the love I felt shown through Faith, I accepted. I thought, what harm would that do? I was polytheistic, what was another God in my cultivated pantheon. Wouldn't my other ones want what was best for me anyway, like they often said and showed they would?

No. I felt like I'd been a valued jewel in the hands of someone who wouldn't give me a way for anything. Then they dropped me, and I shattered. The three guests went throughout our house casting out everything, and given my spiritual gifting to sense that, I felt everyone(spiritual) go. I didn't let them into my room, but they didn't need to.

Whatever was in there, left when they began praying down the hallway. That was last July. The movement from Hellenic Polytheism, Infernal Worship, to Jesus was a choice I consciously made, even in my ignorance. It hurt, watching the spirits I thought were my true family sudden desert me. Jesus has been patient and gentle since, giving me time and space to grieve, to feel all of it. This may not look like a good story, or a good ending, but it is to me.

So much more happened that would take up posts and posts to even cover, and I don't feel like sharing everything. I don't have to. All this to say, my stories reflect my life, and the characters in them, either original, or paired with well known characters from other stories, all display how I left Jesus, and how he came running to get me. If you read this far, thanks. I appreciate you. God bless you for having compassion. I hope you stick around.

In my teen years, I used to love the idea of someone I loved, try to find me in the next life, and the next and the next. I grew up being forgotten, tended to when I was remembered, or when I made my "tantrums" loud enough, difficult enough. I've loved the dark and the forbidden for as long as I can remember, and vampires especially, have been my weakness. I read Dracula when I was a junior in High School during the summer, in order to hopefully get into an AP class the following year with my favorite English teacher who also taught Freshmen English 1. I fell in love with the story, with Dracula.

A couple years later I was invited to watch Francis Coppola's version via my uncle, who loves Dracula as much as I do. That film, and Gary Oldman's yearning(lol), only fueled my longing to be yearned for. I started writing stories of women and men who were the desired, missing life to their loved one's heart. It made me feel better, for a time. I'm 23 now, and in this last year, I've realized that I've been the one who yearns, my entire life.

I'm "Dracula", searching in vain for my "Mina."

My Mina, who has long been dead. Never been alive. I'm not too late. I just never had her to search for to begin with.

Recently, with the burst of vampire stories and trends in these last couple years, more specifically with Luc Besson's Dracula: A Love Tale, the realization of all this hit me hard, and not softly. Yes that was a spin on Billie Eilish, sue me. The way Caleb Landry-Jones portrayed this character, from the pieces of the film I've seen, was moving. I'm not gonna get into the accuracy or inaccuracies of the original story and the character, that's not what my page is, so don't start getting all hot and bothered over my opinion. If you read this far, thank you for listening to me share. You're a treasure in my heart.

2-25-26, 8:06PM

To the mastermind behind it all, I was a child who marveled at all their story-telling, their theatrics that they told me were true. Now the show's over. In truth, I was the entertainment. I've always wanted to be an actress, and turns out I was on a stage, in front of cameras my entire life; my moments of victory booed at, my moments of purity pissed on, and so on. I can't show my face in public anymore.

All I have left of what I lost.......is nothing. Illusions that blew away the moment the curtains fell back. I used to struggle to comprehend the term 'Smoke and Mirrors'. Unfortunately I know what it means now. I look back at all the things I did in the name of the Gods I love. Nothing has stayed.

The spells are gone, the earth's turned the herbs, the libations, the food into dirt again. My words are empty echoes to ears who only hear them so they can replay my misery. My devotional items are thrown away, the influence rebuked. Any letters or offerings of love on paper are burned. Memory. That's all I have, and Me.

I put life into it, provided the juice for the entities who puppeteered it all. So all I cling to when the hurt and pain comes back is the hurt and pain, the grief. Right now I wish I could die. Then I remember that there's nowhere he will be. There's no heaven for him, he's not waiting for me.

Anywhere.

He is not real.

He never was.

No one in my life currently knows what I feel right now, and it's been like that for a long time. I see the gods I loved everywhere in everything, and then I don't see them. My dreams are double-edged swords that leave me with bleeding wounds when I wake, because I see him in them, and I remember I used to believe they came from him. When I see a bonfire, a fox, an event of harmless trickery, chaos without damage......I see the other one too. When I see grieving widows, doesn't matter the gender, I cry with them.

That's how it was for me; a triune covenant between me and the two gods, my oath as the acceptance, and theirs as the promise for forever promises. In that cathedral, only light and longing was refracted back at me, and I didn't see it until tonight.

2-15-26, 7:43PM.

"She prepared herself for bed, as to dream of him when there." ~Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

I can't get over how perfect this song describes my experience as a former witch, and then a woman set free. The entire song is beautiful, but this line above always stabs me in the heart. One day you'll see a story about my experience, with this song as major inspiration(Of which I will assuredly make known). The picture isn't mine, found on Pinterest.

Some nights, or days, the pain of leaving what I used to know is indescribably heavy. It's too deep to cry, or yell out. There is a wicked entity out there, and he will give you things that seep into your soul. He himself will seep there, if you allow him inside, like I did. I was a devotee to two gods, in the span of four years. This past Jan 2nd would've been a year with the second, and this coming Valentine's Day would have been the second year, with the other.

I was a *Godspouse, and I took it so seriously, even when people around me laughed or told me some really mean things. I loved those gods with my entire being and lifestyle, because I had been so deceived. It's hard to even type this out, the memories of the "good" times are still alive. I don't have any trace of them to hold onto now anyway. No means of coping with this loss and betrayal other than to hold onto what God has said, what he's given in place of what was stolen from me.

I feel like it will take the rest of my life to clean out Satan's(He's a whole other mess of a story) infliction. I feel like I lost a spouse. To Death and to cruel betrayal. I miss them like a widow misses her husband, the one who left without reason, misses the one who died suddenly. I know people are going to see me as mental, and I don't care, just don't be mean about it.

If you love Jesus, pray for me, I'd appreciate that more.