Careful what you "Witch" for.

It cannot be claimed that the ways of the contemporary practitioner remain unchanged from those of 19thC and earlier practitioners, for such would be absurd, and to attempt it via unchanging adherence to antiquity does not gain the ‘badge of authenticity’ but results only in empty ‘historical re-enactment’. Authenticity rests in living practice, which must by its very nature change and evolve with the passage of time. Honesty and discernment in one’s study and practice and the procuring of results are the only authenticity stamp there is.

The Witch Shall Fly Witchcraft trickled from her lips as moonbeams lavished gold; her nights were laced with sorcery and alchemy of old. As hollows full of sleeping souls dreamt of their far-off realms, she whispered to the universe her wishes and her spells. The cat upon the table purred as fragrant tributes burned; with grace and wisdom, she applied the methods she had learned. Her sheer devotion to the craft was written in her skin; a child of sun and moon and stars; her magic bloomed within. The candle flames upon a ledge invoked a soothing glow, and through her window she did gaze to starry skies on show. No matter what of history, her soul was pure and bright; with witchcraft at her fingertips, the witch shall fly tonight.

A Word on The Dead

How to perform an exorcism:

Remember

The Three of Pentacles Walks into a Bar...

Witchcraft is not neoPagan goddess worship, it is not secular weather worship, it is not tree-hugging, and it is not New Age fuckery. Witchcraft is not safe. Witchcraft is not good and kind. Witchcraft is the domain of the trickster, the outcast, the wanderer, and the crooked. It belongs to those who know every light casts a shadow; who have looked into the depths of darkness in their soul and accepted what they’ve seen along with all that is good. Witchcraft requires cunning, manipulation, self-awareness, adaptable morals, and a dash of madness. Witchcraft is sharp pins pierced into a waxen image of an enemy, a lover’s hair plaited with one’s own, a Saturnine root harvested at midnight, blood spilled for hungry spirits, magical pacts made with daemons, a handful of dried henbane leaves burned and inhaled to talk to shades, an ancient incantation sung to become a wild hare, and witchcraft is sabbat wine imbibed while dancing wildly, intoxicated in the woods on Walpurgisnacht.