A steady drum pounded in my head as I laid across my bed. I figured if I looked as if I were sleeping, The Tyrant wouldn't be inclined to initiate an argument. The kitchen is clean. We're supposed to do leftovers. I cleaned up behind myself after my shower. I'm good. But as the tunes for inducing a Native American shamanic journey climaxed, I hated myself for having ADHD.
"I should be in a trance right now and I'm worried about whether or not the house is clean", I grumbled in melodrama.
"You need to be worried about me telling the elders about you inducing a trance in my house", I heard over the ethnic drumming.
"Or about your fits of anger, it's very un-Christlike of you mother", I turned up the volume on my phone. I couldn't entertain her calling my father's house hers for a second time. When I became aware of my audacious arrogance, I peeked out of my left eye to see if she were about to swing. To my surprise, I was left to my shamanic journeying. After the drumming repeated for a second time and I was no closer to traveling the astral plane, I removed my headphones and started a Google search for shamans. How do I report a site as fraudulent?
As I jumped site to site filtering through the charlatans, I thought of my father. Marcus Taylor never attained appointment in our global Christian brotherhood. Neither was he the emotional Christian moved to tears at the thought of all the hope that God provides in exchange for exclusive devotion and observance of his high moral principles. While he ensured that I knew the scriptures, he would never brow beat me with the "Word of God", as his wife would.
One day in the car, on our way home from our Christian ministry, he spoke to me on our religious doctrine pertaining to divination and spirit mediumship. I always noticed that when my father confided in me, especially on weightier matters, his voice would deepen in a very distinctive authoritative tone. After the voice of spiritual integrity faded, he paused as I gazed out the window, still disengaged from the preceding topic.
"You know, Dia, there is life after death. Here, on Earth, as we know it now", he said softly, solemnly. I looked over at my father who had not removed his eyes from the road. I was unaccustomed to my father ever speaking against our doctrine and doing so nonchalantly and plainly as if his statement hadn't questioned my entire upbringing.
"Since I was a child", he continued, "I've seen things, spirits, you know? I hear things, them, sometimes too". He paused. "Your grandmother is in the living room by her pictures and candles. There is a reason why I told your mother to put the candles by the family pictures." He paused again and sighed as he searched for his words. "But she'd never admit that to you. So don't bring it up to her. I'd never hear the end of it."
Looking at my dad, I couldn't formulate an appropriate response. So I turned my attention back to our urban scenery.
"Neither would I", I finally added.
So with my natural desire to pursue true spirituality coupled with my father's confidential confession, I had no inhibitions about seeking spiritual guidance of the nontraditional sort. With Yoruba priesthood ruled out for being better performing artists than proxies to the powers, covens being next to nonexistent in my area and shamans not having as large of an online presence, I threw the phone down to the bed and stared at the ceiling. I began to rear myself.
"Your SPE 101 paper isnt't going to write itself young lady. What did you learn from this semester's student teaching with Autistic middle schoolers?", melodrama continued.
I rolled my oh so overwhelmed and burdened mind over to look at the conjoining back driveways through my backroom window.
"That the mildly and severely Autistic need to be educated separately. It isn't fair to the more capable of the two. But their all inclusive, disorder designated classrooms, with students aging from nine to fourteen is most likely a contingency of having to raise your special needs child in a low income neighborhood", I sighed, "public schools".
Pulling my head over to once again to view the ceiling, "Now write in down". Instead I disobeyed myself, picked up the phone and called Victor.
"He broke up with you Dia..." I said sarcastically, bitterly. But I couldn't fight that nagging inclination that the relationship wasn't over. The phone rang.
"Welp, at least he hasn't blocked my number y..."
"Hello?"
Holy shit, he answered.
"Victor?"
"Hey, D, can I come get you?"
I sat up as the pressure from anticipation tightened my chest. I looked over at my closet, planning an outfit before responding. "Let me throw some clothes on."
Thirty minutes later, we were in the back seat of his Honda CR-V. It had only been a few days since his "I'm a married man" speech and his body felt heavier than it did the day before he delivered it. When he finished and peeled his sweaty body from atop mine, he sat, caught his breath and caressed my thigh.
"Missed you...", he said very casually.
"Victor, after your big speech, I sent you twenty text messages."
"And they aren't in my phone anymore Sister Taylor."
"What?"
He reclined his seat, closed his eyes and muffled as he began to nap.
"We're both dedicated and baptized Christians, Diaspora. And there's a pretty little thing running around with my last name. I can't keep any of your messages or phone calls and haven't for a minute."
He adjusted his weight in the chair. I sat up and began to dress myself. "I'm not in a rush", he quickly added with one eye now open.
"Lucky me", I hissed. He pats my butt.
"Hey, you were sixteen when this shit started. Your dad left and I thought you and your mom would eventually stop coming to the meetings and all of this would have gone away."
"Well, now I'm nineteen, Vick."
Now, with both eyes intently on me, "And we still haven't gone away."
"Gone away? Like I've ever been a problem. It's only a problem, Vick, if you make it a problem."
He stared. "What do you want me to do Dia? I can't leave my wife for a nineteen year old."
I finished dressing, sat back next to him and passed him his clothing.
"There's a store in Lancaster."
"That's like an hour away", he complained.
"And you aren't in a rush Brother Jones."
He nods, "Okay."
"And, I'm hungry."
On the road, we ate Wendy's and pretended as if nothing were wrong. We listened to popular music: hip hop, funk and a little jazz. We cracked jokes and watched the GPS.
"So where exactly are we going?"
"You'll see. I'd rather just go and let you be surprised than to tell you now and be told no."
"You're funny", he chuckled.
I shoved French fries in my mouth and looked out the window. After several sips, I decided that I'd rather have his lemonade than my coke. We exited the highway and a few minutes later I could see the store's sign posted on the road. It stood out plainly between two other storefronts and abundant farmland. Madam Vessant's Occult Shop. We pulled into the empty parking lot. If it weren't for the flashing neon TAROT READING sign and the crone rocking in chair out front, I would have presumed the shop closed.
"You wanted to go to an occult shop?", he asked confusedly.
"Mhmm, you coming in?"
"And give you my card again?"
"You didn't give me a budget last time, not my fault. Come on."
I jumped out of the car and addressed the crone. "Are you Madame Vessant?"
"Only when I'm here sweetie. What can I do for you?", she croaked. Victor watched as we conversed, surprised at what he thought my newest venture.
"Umm, I wanted a tarot reading, a deck of my own and maybe a dream catcher, if you have any. Do you have any books on shamanic journeying?"
"The reading is fifty dollars", gave her aged voice. From her sun tan and heavily wrinkled skin, I couldn't place her ethnicity but her accent was American.
"Dia..", Victor exaggerated, complaining of the price. I ignore the Christian elder who couldn't leave his wife for a nineteen year old. Madame Vessant glared sternly at Victor, even squinting an eye.
"Alright, the girl gets her first reading free, but your young mistress wants a deck of cards, a book and quality dream catcher." He bypassed the woman's comment and the fact that he wears his wedding band so seldomly that he doesn't carry an imprint.
"Dia, you want me to go with you?"
"She should do this alone", Vessant added firmly. Victor cut his eyes over at the woman and then back at me. "D...?"
"I'm okay, I'll do it alone."
In the back of the whimsical store, behind closed purple curtains, Madame Vessant and I sat in a small room with ethnic statues, masks and clothing on the wall and other knick knacks of various religious backgrounds. There was a tall vertical metal file cabinet that I assumed was full of witchcraft supplies. Candles and incense were lit and the Rootworker began her shuffle. Six cards were laid in the pattern of the solar plexus. She remained silent as she reviewed the cards.
"Is it separation or divorce", she looks up at me above her thin spectacles, "with your parents?"
"Separation", I admitted shamefully, "or abandonment, which ever works."
"Your mother will not handle this well overtime. Her future is very dark, now that she is without your father. I'd be more concerned with her emotional well being over my own for at least awhile."
"You don't know a damn thing about us, lady. I can't focus on my moth..." Without disrupting her further review of the cards, she interrupted my sass.
"Your journey will be successful. The Universe will provide what you have been seeking but Mister out front playing with my wind chimes is an evitable hurdle along the way. But only if you are willing to remove him. Now get your deck of cards, wild little girl, your dream catcher and get out of my store." And without a bat of an eye, I was dismissed from my reading.
I don't think I've ever been more confused in my life. I picked up my bag and went out into the main store. Through the storefront windows, I saw Victor outside playing with the wind chimes that barely made a sound. How the hell? I turned around in astonishment of Madam Vessant as she went behind the cash register. She ignored my shock and pointing to the manifestation of her revelation and continued to bark orders. "Shop!", she demanded, "Tell you boyfriend to pay me my money."
There was no book, but I found an Afro-Brazilian tarot deck and a royal purple dream catcher and then, Victor. The bells on the store's door rang as I tagged him into my consumer experience. "Hey, I'm ready."
On our way out, I looked back over my shoulder at Madame Vessant. Her frank shortness unassuaged me. She lacked the friendliness of any merchant and the conventional professionalism of the average businessman. In the car, Victor immediately asked the details of the reading. I genuinely considered heeding her advice of leaving Victor, so I refused to inform him.
"A bunch of little things, nothing heavy. It was free anyhow, you know? Wanna see my cards?"
"Yeah..."
Back in the shop, Madame Vessant watched Diaspora and Victor drive off.
"Wild one, isn't she?", she asked softly. "You'll get your journey alright diaspora, oh, Dia-spora, I mean, humph." She pulled the shop keys from her house dress pockets. She shuffled her fuzzy slippered feet over to the front door, locked it and turned off her neon sign. She turned out the store's lights and continued her shuffle to her back room. She opened the metal cabinet and kneeled. At its floor were five pillar candles, offering bowls of food and a goblet of wine. The articles of worship surrounded the base of the statue of her God. She lit the used pillar candles and looked up to her horned Lord.
"My Lord of the Wilderness, our last client is bound to cross your path. She seeks a journey of enlightenment and growth. If it be your will, allow her to journey to you and gain wisdom in your hidden knowledge. That is, before she foolishly finds herself pregnant by her mischievous pervert Mister. Lord..."
Madam Vessant rose and went to bed. The cabinet remained open and the candles burned all night.
to be continued...
Deity pounded on her chamber door as she heard her coven sisters crying , murmuring, running and brooming through the corridors. She knew Terra had overstepped a boundary with her revelation but couldn't fathom her frightened sisters' claim to execution. She could hear Governess Maria, The Air Witch, calming the young witches of Earth.
"Children, ladies, children! Please, silence. Be still, listen."
Deity pressed her ear to the chamber door.
"We have all studied Karma", Maria continued, "we all know well that It compensates in full. So if the word being spread has any validity then..."
"But she's our Governess. There isn't a more competent Earth Witch in Vulcan or Diana!" Deity heard. From the rasp in her sister's voice, she could tell the cry originated from Laura. But Laura was currently in Fire Mastery but she is known to frequent the Earth wing. The young witches of Vulcan tend to wander to the wing of their elemental moon, their original mastery. The same stands for the young wizards of Diana and their elemental sun. Both House Vulcan and House Diana have identical architecture. Each House forms a pentagram castle of the five wings, with The Coven Parents in the center. Each wing is heavily decorated and enchanted with the elements of assignment. Where the man power for décor and engineering falls short, magick supplements.
The Water wing has running water substituting glass windows. The baseboards of the rooms and corridors are the same to foster practice and peace with the element. The spell on the Air wing leaves it subject to tornadoes in the hall, a byproduct of frequent spell casting gone awry. But, we've learned their patterns and now use them for practice and therefore mastery tasks, and fun, when conceit sets into a young magician. The Fire wing, the darkest and seediest wing of the castles, is void of electricity and is prone to visits from The Underworld by means of the candle and torch flames that illuminate it. The Ether wing is more simple than one might think. It is possessed to the point that each chamber as twice the occupancy of any other wing. We practice embracing our true selves when we cycle to Ether for interaction with those possessing the wing. But Laura's lunar home has bedroom floors of green grass and living, breathing, speaking plant life. Every witch that cycles to the Earth wing is magickally responsible for the upkeep of their plant life.
There are nine chambers in each of the five wings. Seven are dormitory with elemental features and every student magicians of Vulcan and Diana has a pagan roommate. One chamber for the solitude of the Governor or Governess who monitors the students' progression and behavior throughout their five year mastery of the element. And each wing has one chamber of isolation. This particular dungeon of penance is void of the comforting homeliness and magick provided by elemental features. That would be the chamber of Deity and the like. It is only subject to magick when its repenting occupant suffers further sentencing.
As deity chaffed and paced in her chamber of isolation, she hated herself for her curiosity and wandering that resulted in her occupying the ninth chamber. Two ago, only one year into her Earth Mastery and bonding with Terra, she was sentenced to "no recreation for a twenty one days" for practicing Water Magick against Governess Hestia. The Fire Witch Governess and Professor of Manipulation of Stones and Metals (MNP103) was saturated in her only weakness after a showy display of authority against Deity when Deity became testy regarding the mandate that she only learn but not practice the ways of Fire.
"The binding placed on me in Fire classes and in your wing is for your safety and coddling as mortals. I wont just sit and listen and test on paper", Deity proclaimed that day. Hestia would not "tolerate her lip" and struck Deity with flames. To the Fire Witch's dismay, Deity gave a proud rebuttal that mandated Hestia dry out for a week before reigniting. Out of fear of further sentencing, Deity fled the perimeter of the two Houses and retreated deep into the surrounding woods, the same woods of her discovery as a newborn.
Cold and ill-equipped for survival in the wild, Deity slept under a large pile of leaves. In the middle of the night, she was awakened in terror by a snake slithering across her leg. When she screamed and threw the serpent from her, it regrouped and spoke.
"I know you child. Calm yourself. You are The Abandoned One", announced the legless entity.
"Abandoned by whom?" Deity asked, no less shaken than she was before he spoke.
Excited with anticipation, he slithered closer to her and raised his limbless body erect, now eye level with the kneeling rebel.
"Instead inquire of whom awaits you child." The serpent hissed softly and swayed from side to side, reading the spirit in Deity's eyes. "Have you learned of The Fallen Angels of Heaven in that coven of yours, Witch?"
"We study them but working and battling them is prohibited outside of the Ether Mastery cycle."
The serpent put distance between them.
"And I suppose", he began, "it would be the same for The Rising Angels of The Underworld."
Before Deity could confirm his suspicion, he leaped and buried himself into the ground. The Earth trembled and the very spot of his burial began to lift and form a whirlwind funnel. After several crackles and sparks inside the earthy twister, it combusted into flames. A large masculine angelic entity appeared in the swirling heat. With a strong flap of his wings, the fire was extinguished and the earth settled. He hovered over the young witch, raised his left arm and pointed to her.
"Deity our Abandoned One, you were left alone to demonstrate your purpose, a trial not so uncommon. Remember, Hell hath no fury without She born of it." He then outstretched his palm and struck Deity with a heat that knocked her back into the leafy heap and into a deep sleep. He blanketed her as she was before and watched her rest. He confessed.
"My daughter, your mother and I will not be there for you're return. We must expire for the sake of your reign. But you will never learn mastery until you leave that cage we've reluctantly given you as a home. When you do leave, Deity, you will be alone. He will come for you. And you two will return to The Underworld together. Stay fervent, my beloved demon daughter. Remain furious, oh rebellious one, Hell's future Queen. We love you." Her father then left her.
At dawn, she was awakened by the roaring of her coven brothers of House Diana on foot, brooms and horseback. They collected their rogue sister who had awakened in excruciating pain. Twenty four hours from the point that The Rising Angel of The Underworld rendered her unconscious, she was laying on her belly in the infirmary of House Vulcan. In one hand she held a letter explaining that the remainder of her experience as a student at House Vulcan would be spent magickless isolation. In the other, a mirror that revealed a fate she considered to be far worse. She had two large humps on her shoulder blades, from which she was sprouting wings.
Deity refused to be excluded from the commotion of Terra's fate any longer. She glared at the chamber door, determined to break the spell of isolation. She hovered above the ground, forsaking the use of the wand, opting instead to conduct her power organically, as she had recently been instructed. She raised her left hand, stretched out her palm, sought destruction and put her Latin to the test.
"Veritatem revelare. Ego sum qui ego sum. Deus tuus ego sum. Arcum mihi!"
Deity waved her hand and the door and its wall opposing her crumbled. When her freedom was granted her by her own power, she saw her coven sisters running toward the exit.
"They've found her!" They hollered. "Diana has found Terra!"
In the distance, she could hear Governess Maria, announcing the event.
"Now, now, we must all convene outside for a dual coven convention for the execution of The Traitor."
Deity's stomach turned. Terra's revelation of Deity's birthright as The Lofty Chosen of Darkness and subsequent fleeing warranted public execution. No doubt, The Earth Witch with fall to her only weakness and burn at the stake. In the heat of the moment, Deity disregarded the insecurities of her very human, yet blessed, siblings and parents and flew over head to the entrance of House Vulcan. As she flew passed her sisters, she ignored their cries and pleas.
"Deity, please, return to your isolation, for your own sake!"
"Deity, please, why won't you use a broom?" Deity had it set in her heart to do neither. She refused her cage and the use of antiquated tools that do not move as quickly as her wings allowed.
Terra had broken a pact of secrecy for Deity's deserved awareness. She would repay her governess with the same rebellion. The glory of this defiance was undeniable to Deity. As she navigated the halls of Vulcan, she looked down at her sisters and dodged those brooming, having the nagging inkling that this would be her final goodbye. As her flight led her to the entrance of her coven, she opted for a less showy display of power, closed her eyes, retracted her wings and exited through the window.
Outside witches and wizards from The Houses poured into the front courtyard. The stake and lumber were prepped as The Executioner tied Terra to her fate. Deity could see sparks and bolts of green energy shooting from Terra's body as she struggled to use Earth magick for her freedom. As the truth took hold of Deity, her heart sank. Her generation of witches and wizards had only heard cautionary tales of executions. They has never witnessed one. Deity was mortified at the amount of magicians excited, proud and advocating Terra's death. Terra had declined from being a beloved and venerated authority figure of Earth in both the sibling Houses to being detested, name cursed and spit upon.
Deity looked over and saw both sets of coven parents next to the stake as Terra's face flooded and shivered in fear. The four coven parents seemed to ignore Deity's presence and broomless flight. The four parents spoke in unison.
"Self-perpetuating, may Vulcan and Diana live forever!"
The Executioner of The Houses, a demonic ward of The Underworld, then spat his unholy flame and lit the lumber. Terra screamed at the top of her lungs. Deity couldn't bring herself to take action. In her inexperience, she was stunned. Terra's terror and horror resounded into the woods that the hidden witches and wizards had made their home three hundred years ago. As the flames grew to Terra's waist, Terra began to choke and cough up blood. For the last time, Terra and Deity made eye contact. Mourning the torture of her governess, Deity broke her composure at the sight of the weakening of the Earth magick leaving Terra's pentagram. Her shrill of agony echoed. Terra gasped twice and screamed out to Deity from what little was left of the magickal soul possessing her body.
"Run, Deity! Run!"
From her third word, the flames instantaneously engulfed Terra. The crowd cheered. The Coven Father of House Vulcan, the only father that Deity knew, raised his hand and immediately silenced the celebration. With the mixed houses' attention on the Coven Father and his hand, they followed its direction to look up or over at Deity. With their energy fixed on their rogue sister, Gustav spoke masterfully.
"Magicians, fire."
With the grace of magick, two hundred witched and wizards pulled their wands from their inner pockets of the cloaks and fired their elemental magick of preference. Deity made evasive maneuvers from their energy and brooms. As several of her brothers of Diana began to enclose, her youth and inexperience with betrayal lead to her demise. She lost her angelic control and began to fall. As she descended towards her grounded siblings, she felt pressure on her brain as the Greek Lord of The Underworld spoke.
"Higher!" He shouted.
Through the frighten tears in her eyes, she looked up and saw the brooms of her brothers vanish into thin air. As they began to crash land, some saved by magick and others crossing over, Deity took to the clouds. At every moment of doubt she heard the Lord speak again.
"Higher!"
"Higher!"
"Higher!"
Once outside of the dual covens' range, Deity heard the voice of Hades once more.
"Leave. Forever."
Out of harm's way and void of further doubt, Deity flew. In to the night, away from the fear of those lesser than she, away from regular persecution and sentencing, away from the demands to be anything other than her Self, she flew.
to be continued...
“It’s pronounced Dee- ah-spor-ah”, I groaned while rubbing my temples. Three weeks into the semester and I must have corrected her about twelve times already. “My eccentric mother thinks we’re Hispanic or something", I followed up in quick witted self- defense. Deer in the headlight eyed, she recited my name back to me pain stakingly slow; just to efficaciously annoy me I suppose. Once she realized I wasn’t going to confirm her thirteenth attempt, she proceeded to confusedly take role of her half empty classroom. There’s a side of me that wants to ask how many students were originally enrolled, to better understand why she makes the most lost of faces, due to the lack of attendance. But, I refrain. Bewilderment suits her. No one cares about Yoruba Studies, Lady. That’s why no one is taking it, but me. Slowly perusing the room, coming to terms with just how many empty seats there are while considering just how much effort it took for her to prepare for the course, I begin to feel bad for her. I am literally one of six students present and the poor woman has to pronounce diaspora as dee-ah-spor-ah.
Seventy minutes, three crown orisha and twenty answered text messages later, I am forehead smooshed against the window of the six bus headed home. Eyes squinted, I cynically observe pedestrians laughing on their cell phones, and drivers with unbuckled toddlers in their backseats, questioning if they knew something about life that I didn’t. As for myself, Diaspora Taylor, I am still wondering where the hell my dignity went. “He doesn’t want you anymore Dia”, I remind myself for the one thousandth time, after sending twenty unanswered text messages. Twenty. Why do I feel like incessantly contacting him will win me some magical opportunity to be back in his life again? He looked me right in the eye and said that we were never serious. He also acknowledged for the first time that he was a married man. The sound of the words “my wife” were so foreign coming from his mouth, I almost questioned their origin, asked their definition and damn near thought I’d be expected to spell it back to him for some national prize.
Three years of eyeing one another at church services, “sheparding calls” when my mother wasn’t home, playing hookie from classes for day trips, just to have to swallow my pride and pain being reminded of his wife. She isn’t nearly as much of a godly woman as he is a man, so I only encountered her during seasonal church campaigns or fundraisers. Essentially, this made her no threat, granting us both peace of mind, and now, I’m sickened and he’s suddenly belligerent. I should have known better though. After all, Victor Jones was one of our congregation elders and a friend of my father. Former friend now, who knows? Three weeks after my dad split, I had a boyfriend, or so I thought.
After an approximate twenty one minute bus ride, walking six blocks and not one highly anticipated love letter in the mailbox later, I’m in the shower. With my head hanging shamefully low, I watch the water cascading off my head and down to my aching swollen feet. I need a car. Well, first, I need license. I need license to live again, if that’s what I had with a Victor, a life. I need license to let go, let go of someone I had no license to love in the first place. Then, I will be awarded the luxury of being able to drive my own vehicle, instead of being enslaved by loneliness and lack of understanding.
Feeling only superficially clean and not nearly as renewed as I hoped for, I step out the shower and wipe the mirror to reveal the force of displacement. “I shall prevail”, my father’s motto softly echoing in the bathroom. And that’s what I shall do. I shall prevail the travail, combat compulsive communication and prepare for my tyrannical mother to get home.
Tyranny is the unjust use of governmental power. Due to my mother’s inclination to conjure misery in her own mind, she has the uncanny means of fostering a tumultuous household. This was mainly before my dad left us. Though I’m sure they loved one another very much at one point in time, I have no recollection of my parents ever being really happy together. I mean, how could they have been when one half of the team succumbs to two to three hours of screaming and crying fits that include calling out my father and I for one on one verbal scrimmages based on events that happened more than a decade ago? In the last month alone, I had to twice soothe and reason with my forty-six year old mother as to why I wouldn’t let her kiss me in front of my friends in the schoolyard when she dropped me off when I was all of seven years old. Each time I made a point, she would obey the truculent orders of her demons to immediately find another trivial topic as to which she attributes her disproval of my entire existence. “Ignore her”, my father would counsel. I understood his easier said than done approach to my mother’s instability. He had less of a difficult time managing her.
My parents professed Christianity in its purest of forms. So on occasion her possession subsided long enough to allow her to be submissive and level headed. The scriptures don’t require that my parents take a back seat to my needs, as it does for children to do for them, so my attempts to heed my father’s admonition would result in being followed around the house and cornered in the hallways or in my bedroom, being called out my name and egged on to take the first blow on a unruly woman. This was a spiritual household, Christian! Where was the Holy of Holies? Are you there God? It is me, your Devotee. Whilest waiting for divine intervention from The One True God, I bestowed my inherited tribulation the title, The Tyrant.
Growing up my dad was the last to return home from work, which made me The Tyrant’s welcoming party. From the moment the wench would walk into the house, I swear, a fiery and tempestuous entity would mount her. Every day, she’d cross the threshold and resume whatever hurricane of a hissy fit that had her very large panties in a bunch the night before. Hello to you too, mother. I’m happy to see you too, mother. Instead of a warm welcome, she'd systematically slam the front door and stomp up the stairs to find me minding my business in my room.
Scowling, she would ask “Did you hear from your father today?” “Yes”, I’d reply, “he texted me earlier today asking about dinner. Everything okay?” I’d ask uncomfortably, wondering if I was unknowingly guilty of a transgression against her. Then the look of complete devastation would manifest on her face every time we had this exchange. Why on Earth did I insist on telling her the truth? “Dinner? Why didn’t he ask me? I plan the meals. You only cook them!” She’d shout pitifully. “Mom, I don’t know, you’d have to ask him.” “But, I’m his wife!” She’d scream at the top of her lungs, usually leading to hyperventilation.
By the time, she starts to pant during her episodes, I’m usually deathly afraid to make any sudden movements. It was always clear that these problems predated myself. I wouldn't know what to say to the woman, his woman, not mine, except: “Mom, I’m sorry”. “I know you’re sorry Diaspora, you’re just a sorry person. I’m sorry I even had you. I should have just aborted your sorry ass”, she’d rebuttal cryingly, then abruptly leaving my room, slamming my bedroom door behind her. I’d hear her deranged muttering as she’d make her way to her bedroom. After creeping to my closed and too afraid to make physical contact between it and my ear, I'd suddenly hear, “Fuck you both! Fuck you, Dia! Fuck your father! Fuck this house! I should just kill myself! AAAHHH!”
Whoa, this has nothing to do with me Lady, call your husband.
"Governess, may I walk with Deity to her chambers? Her sentence has me out of sorts and I fear it will misdirect future manifestations." Tabby asked in her sweetest voice. Her loose brunette ringlets slowly danced in the air, as they were unaffected by gravity. Every member of the coven, from the age of five, spends five years under the governance of a particular element in order to master it, while concurrently taking General Education courses, both magickal and profane. Tabby rose in Air but her Moon is in Earth. So though Tabby's third round of governance landed her in Mastering Fire, Terra was particularly fond of the young Earth Witch and highly anticipated her future governance over her fellow Earthling.
"What a clever claim Earth Witch. You're two years from the completion of your Third Element Mastery. Even during your eighteenth year, your focus is flawless." Terra responded, portraying offense, as she personally was incapable of avoiding bias with other Earthlings. She caved, as Tabby knew she would. "Walk with your sister." The girls, Deity, Tabby and Terra alike, giggled and walked down the corridor.
"You know Deity, my Second Element Mastery was torture. Twelve year old girls are mean. For an entire year, all I was reminded of was that my father was not of House Diana and that I'm the daughter of an excommunicated witch whore! For all I know, only half of my conjuring was magick. So you shouldn't chafe at being a demon child." She playfully said to Deity in her spookiest witch's voice. Terra, following close behind the students, grinned.
"That's the best you've got girl? Shame to your Social Segregation professor. The profane wont be terrified of you at all." Terra chucked admiringly.
"I'll be sure that Professor Olla knows she's failing me. She'll be thrilled." Tabby said sassily and then returned her attention to Deity. "So you see, you aren't as bad off as I am. There's no reason for shame."
"You could have found out who your father is, Tabby and be rid of your shame. Don't run from divination. Anyway, you're too powerful to come from profane blood. I consider you no half breed." Deity said maintaining high spirits. They were seconds away from reaching her chamber, when her solitude and sentence would resume.
"Thank you, my truest friend. Magick knows I miss being your roommate. I hate that your wandering and wings separated us." Tabby said as they approached the chamber door that was cloaked from ceiling to floor in a black cloud of negativity that evidence Deity's sentence.
The three froze outside of the room and silenced as a thin black hazy hand inched from the spell, seeking the presence of trespassers. It caressed Tabby's face and she immediately went red in her round face and experienced a full body paralysis that left her eyes in wide and bloodshot and quickly leaking large tears. A chill came over Deity as the energy began to draw her body near the door. Tabby attempted speech and produced a spine chilling stutter. "W-w-why is s-s-she doing this to you Deity?!" She cried out in horror.
"Enough!" cried Terra, "Tabatha you have no business here and it's been made clear." With swiftness Terra removed her Earthy wand, struck and freed Tabatha from the spell that was beginning to swallow her. "Be gone, child, and do not return until your sister has triumph. Beseech the Universe that she does." Tabby backed away from her bestfriend, not wanting to leave her side and forced to break eye contact to turn and flee. Deity's fear set in as she watched Tabby's cloak fly behind her as she did. She turned to her governess for mercy.
"Governess please! I don't know why they are always so harsh with me! Save me Terra!" She screamed as the spell's pull on her demonic body increased with the removal of the trespasser. Nearly shivering and fighting tears of her own, Terra waved her wand in the air, in standard choreography. It danced an energy summons and she spoke her will.
"Aether interius Terris, Deus interuis corporis" she then pointed her weapon to the ground beneath them. "Servus meus es tu. Puer guide in salutem." The Earth beneath the title floor shot upward under what was once Deity's door, breaking and freeing Deity from the spell and opening the doorway by several feet. Terra stepped back with her left foot and then shot her wand at Deity. With "intra cubiculum", the Earth slide Deity into her bedroom.
The two witches stood on opposite sides of the opening, staring at one another. Terra jerked her head upward and chest outward, instructing Deity to do the same. "The Coven Parents are afraid you Child." With her governess' rare honesty, Deity broke. She screamed and cried as the ground beneath her still crumbled.
"Who am I?"
Terra raised and danced her wand and groaned in disgust in her lack of discretion. She vomited her final fateful words,
"The Lofty Chosen of Darkness". She pointed her wand and Deity's bedroom, the flooring and the black spell of isolation and pain were restored. Terra stood staring at the black haze over the door.
"Ego semper pythonissam".
In the suite of The Coven Parents, the century old witch and her wizard husband forty years her senior were dressing to retire for the evening. The wizard sat in a plush red velvet robe with a glass of wine and listened ever so intently to his wife complain about the current generation of the coven children. Sharp daggers were thrown about their deviation but The Coven Father didn't waste his precious energy to introduce to his wife to the idea of innovation and progress. They have raised their coven since his mother in law was captured and murdered by profane hands fifty years ago. As a new generation of Coven Parents themselves, they had an unrelenting need to preserve the reputation of the school and home left to them. So he allowed her to vent and scheme. When his wife took a breath, he interjected.
"Dear..." he said lovingly. He received no response as she continued to oil her hands while staring at herself, seated at her vanity. Her husband swooned under the influence of his red wine and his wife's scent of lavender and rose. "Sabrene, My Love, what's truly bothering you?" Immediately The Coven Mother ceased oiling herself and looked off the into the distance, listening.
"Sshh..." she began, "Do you hear that Gustav?"
Her husband sipped and rejected the notion, "Leave an old wizard alone, it doesn't speak to me the way it used to or ever as well as it did with you. What was said?" Sabrene jumped up and grabbed her robe, "Put some pants on Love, we have company."
The Coven Mother went to their chamber doors and opened it before Olga, The Water Governess and Professor of Divination, Necromancy and English Literature could knock. The Coven Mother's countenance tightened as she looked into the dutiful eyes of Olga. "So, it's true?" asked The Coven Mother. Olga nodded, "Yes Dear Coven Mother, it is true and she fled, leaving a written confession and apology to the coven". Olga handed The Coven Mother the letter left on Terra's bed. The Coven Mother shouted at the insult, "You won't know regret nor remorse until you cool from hellfire, Traitor!"
Angrily, The Coven Father approached his wife from behind, closing the chamber door in Olga's face. "Compose yourself Witch. What has possessed you? Ive heard our news. The whispers were calm. Why aren't you My Love. This wont your first execution. So don't shame your mother's name with hysterics. The traitor will be hunted and burned. The House of Diana will see to it." He kissed his diabolical wife that he loved more than magick itself and caressed her lower back. "She signed our agreement in blood. Foolish Earth Witch. Never taking a single vow with The Underworld was her greatest mistake." The couple smiled gratified in their truth and tenderly kiss again. Their lips part and Sabrene giggles, "She'll be tortured for all eternity. Light magick has never saved a soul". Kristoph looked longingly into his wife's villainous black eyes.
"Your hatred is most becoming My Darling".
Sabrene smiled sinfully, disrobed, backed towards and climbed into their bed.
"Possess me you malicious bastard".
"Up. Down. Up. Down.", Deity whispered softly as her wings abliged in synchronicity. She sat on the floor of her quarters, sulking her predicament. The spell on her window allowed for energy to enter but not exit for ventilation and light, but the energy proof glass left her feeling hopeless.
"And this was just compensation?", she asked staring over at it. She twirled a wand in her right hand like a baton, and was then startled but a sudden rattling, girling, and then high pitched screetching. She whipped her attention over to the door.
"Damn."
She knew the door would never open as the wall containing it and the floor beneath her began to shake. She immediately hovered mid air. Through the rush of adrenaline, she struggled to mind the lack of head space above her in the small chamber and keeping her eye out for the work she had been asking for. Bang! She hit her head once as a burst of black energy entered the room. She tried to remain off the ground as he entered on all fours. Nerve wrecking excitement at it's new surroundings and in search of a playmate that would end up his meal for the afternoon, the demon surveyed the chamber.
Nearly hyperventilating, Deity pointed her wand.
"I swear on all things Masculine and Feminine, I'll kill you and condemn you back to hell Asmodeus!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. She had studied him well in Demology but never worked with or against him. Her arm now trembling from pointing the wand she doubted would assist in doing the job that she claimed it would, hoping to inspire fear and therefore an easier battle. The demon was more wolf and man then gremlin, a fearsome hybrid, product of conjurational experimentation in Hell and but one term of an eternal contract with The Underworld for the sake of war and education. Asmodeus rose to his feet, as he made and refused break eye contact. From floor to crown, he stood at five feet and one inch, only four inches shorter than Deity. He gave a small, self gratifying growl and on all our fours, took to the wall opposite Deity. She screamed in horror and she made evasive maneuvers, still pointing her wand. Scaling the far wall, jumping over the window and across the ceiling he approached his opponent.
Deity was raised in the ways of light and was sentenced to battle with darkness due to her insisting to practice, but she lacked all the necessary training. Light magick, or white, was beneficial for protection, healing, wealth, creation, and self defense. But there was nothing that her Governess,Terra, nor her professors had instructed her in that would prepare her to destroy a hellish novelty like Asmodeus, at least, none that she could remember at the time. The Coven Father couldn't have chosen a smaller gremlin? But as Deity, dipped, swerved and failed in timing when casting a containment spell to freeze the demon in place so that she could devise a plan for his destruction, she thought of the entity that gave her access to her wings when she ran away a was lost in The Woods of Whims overnight. When he found her, he never named himself but claimed kinship to the Lord Hades and informed her of her angelic birthright. He casted a spell that left her dormant, waking with a severe ache in her third eye and across her entire back from which her wings painfully emerged over the following twenty four days. Deity spoke no Greek and her Latin needed improvement but she trusted her natural precociousness for manifestation and called on Lord Hades.
Every time she uttered the name Hades, Asmodeus would pause, as if anticipating the Lord's arrival, waiting a second or two and would resume his pursuit. At the fourth utterance of the name her outstretched right arm froze, dropping her wand. Her hand opened and waved across the path of Asmodeus. He flew to the far right, hitting the wall and falling to the floor. A slight pressure cloaked her mind as someone whispered to her from within. She identified the foreign language as Greek. As Asmodeus shook off the blow, Deity slowly began to panic from the language barrier. Exchanging weapons, her left hand then rose and in a louder volume the voice ordered "Strike!". Deity's palm felt warm as reddish electric energy shot from it. As Asmodeus dodged the blow, her outstretched palm moved along his path, "Follow!". When her aim was centered, it spoke again, "Strike!", and her heated energy would leave her body and fire against her enemy. Asmodeus was hit once when the wall opened revealing The Coven Mother.
"That's enough!", she shouted. Asmodeus was pulled from the room, scraping and scratching at the floor. Once he was pulled back into the darkness from whence he came, a heavily breathing Coven Mother adjusted her husband's sentence. "We do not have contracts for your license, I mean," shaking her head and dismissing the thought, "your nonsense. The Coven Father would have stopped the contention at the first minor injury and released you from the additional battles. Calling upon Lord Hades, Child, I have had enough of these strange happenings. Never in our coven's three centuries have we encountered such a..." The coven mother was abruptly interrupted and stormed out closing the wall behind her. Deity, now grounded, stared in disbelief at the The Coven Father's matching her with any entity as powerful as Asmodeus and allowing for an injury.
"I wont steal again, Mother", Deity said sorrowfully as her place with her coven parents became clear. She couldn't trust The Father anymore than she could The Mother and would have preferred to be trapped in a cavern wall.
She had a little more than twenty four hours until Beltane. In her twelve hours of detainment, she slaughtered, gutted and pieced her offering. After battling Asmodeus, she became surprised that the mess was removed from the room. How kind!
"How the hell am I supposed to offer the goat alone this is small room without training in fire to contain it? Is he trying to kill me?" Her chamber door opened and there stood Terra. Deity rose and stood before her. "Governess?" Terra looked at her proudly, head a little higher than usual and chest puffed. "You may attend dinner with your coven Child". Hungry and tired from newly discovered energy, Deity was grateful at the announcement. But she had not seen so much pride in her Governess and she had just aced her final in Alchemy 102. Deity could only imagine what secret to her sentence she was missing. But divination would have to wait. She was being left to the devices of her sisters.
Deity played with her biscuit, overlooking her chicken breast and garden salad. It didn't matter that the basil and cilantro on both enchanted her senses. This evening, her herbological favorites and their magical benefits paled in comparison to her anxiety. They all sat five to a table. A large coven of witches, in place for over three hundred years. Only one hundred lived In House but there are nearly one thousand of House Vulcan, a coven priding itself on the accurate duplication of all signature magic of The Ancients. There isn't a world empire whose sorcery could not be studied and perfected in House Vulcan. They had forged the greatest witches and sorcerers of the last three centuries. Deity sat where she typically did, at Earth, Tabatha, her bestfriend at Fire, Catherine at Water, Berretta at Air and Theresa at Ether; an assignment according to governance.
"Deity, you're running out time for supper. Where's that beastly appetite to which we've all grown accustomed?" Beretta asked, giggling. "Leave her alone Retty", added Tabatha as she looked consolingly at Deity, "I don't think it was fair that you went up against Asmodeus alone either. My fire magic couldn't have done me any justice on my own without additional help from my governess and The Coven Parents have forbade you from learning it. Eat up sweetheart, who knows what you'll be up against later."
"Do you think The Coven Father wants me dead?" Deity asked without looking up from her plate. Catherine, the eldest at the table wiped her mouth very authoritavely and threw her napkin to the table. "You're elemental magic is strong enough without fire. You needn't insult the coven with your doubt. You've done well and you will continue to do so. Get through your sentence and wipe those sticky fingers clean, Witch."
"Ha!" Theresa gave way. "Vos autem non pytonissam. Piger puella. Alienus et non idoneos transfertus." Deity looked at Theresa angrily. She may have struggled with her accent and her writing but her Latin comprehension was flawless. Theresa had to ground to say she wasn't a witch. Neither was she lazy or a little girl. But to call her an outcast and unfit, well that was a blow for which Deity was unprepared.
"Scio quid dicas Theresa, leave me alone. Now is not the time for blasted quipping, Coven Sister" Deity shot back.
"Non soror mea est" Theresa said.
"Now that's enough Theresa, she has been and always will be our sister" said Retty, uncomfortable and irritated with Theresa's frankness. "Ego adaptatus", added Deity, still self defensive and proving her case. "We know you were adopted Deity you dont have to prove yourself this way", said Tabatha. "Et accepit sum" Deity said, turning to Tabatha.
"False, but you will be accepted once again, after your sentence. Theresa has a point Coven Sister" gave Catherine.
Condescendingly, Theresa continued, "de daemonium and now a repeated violator of Coven Law. We learn how to annihilate lawless demons of your kind in The School of Fire, a craft that I began to master at 10 years old. You were excluded from it for this very reason. They should have sent a sister to your chambers, Demon."
"As if my Earth magic would have failed her. Your sister conjured a Lord of the Underworld this afternoon and He did not fail her either. And The Coven Father has negotiated her next opponent with Lord Hades, now that He vouches for her use of His element. It will be a fair fight. Threaten her again, Child, and you'll be on Trial faster than you sneak into the wizards dormatory", Terra said as she stood behind Deity. Just then the end of supper bell rang and the coven dispersed back to their respective quarters. Deity needed to rest before her next battle, but gave way to tears of gratitude at the blessing to use the element the element of fire. Her hope of attaining The Pentagram was not lost.
