This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
Lakes Area Pagan
Volume 2, Number 2
Fall 2008 Additional copies of Lakes Area Pagan may be purchased at: http://stores.lulu.com/anarchistbanjo Contributors retain copyright of their own material and are responsible for its content.
The Lakes Area Pagan is published as a service to the local pagan and Wiccan community. Contributors have been asked to use pen names or Craft names for security reasons. No profit is made on the publication of this magazine other than the small profit the bookstore makes for distributing it. There is no advertising. There is only the willingness to share. I have done minor editing of spelling and grammar to make the issue more readable. Cover Art: Circle by Ulla Gillraen. Back Cover Photo: Fall by Ulla Gillraen
Lakes Area Networking
The Lakes Area Pagan and Wiccan Community is an online discussion forum for local people to meet and get to know each other better before meeting in person. It is a safe and sacred space. Those wishing to enter in a spirit of perfect love and perfect trust are welcome. Go to:http://anarchistworld.wordpress.com Register to get your own blog at http://wordpress.com and then email me at: email@example.com with an email letting me know why you want to join this community. This personal email is required to weed out unsolicited spammers and weirdoes. Use Lakes Area Pagan as a title. I will then register you as a user. Spring Issue Anyone interested in contributing material for the Spring Issue can email me the material at firstname.lastname@example.org Articles, poems, stories, art, photos and anything interesting are welcome as long as it is fit for a general audience. The general theme for the Spring Issue is Initiation. Other topics are invited as well.
Anarchistbanjo Well this is the third issue! I’ve learned a lot over the last year and humility is one of them. Well, kind of! Chuckle. I have continued to be amazed at the quality material that fellow pagans have wished to share within these pages. In this issue I can see a little more fun coming out as we let down our hair a little. This comes at the same time that I am taking a step back from the idea of Lakes Area Pagan as a magazine. I am beginning to think of it as a celebration of a way of life instead! Let’s have fun! Let’s share our stories and photos, our art! Even more, let’s be honest! Pagans and Wiccans adhere to a different set of values and spiritual beliefs. They have been as persecuted in their day as Christians have. As I collected the material for this issue I was struck by the spirit of celebration these stories and poems expressed.
They share a celebration of life from many viewpoints that are unique and richly rewarding. It is powerful to come out of the closet! It is powerful to proclaim a belief that is not politically correct. Lakes Area Pagan allows such personal expression in a way that has not been possible before. When I first thought of Lakes Area Pagan as a magazine I thought of getting lots of readers and making lots of copies made. I thought of rich, informative articles. Now I’m stepping back, keeping my mouth shut and just allowing everyone else to speak. It is a deeply rewarding and gratifying experience to see someone else’s good work in print! It is not about how many readers we have. It is about sharing our stuff with each other! There is a new blog called the Lakes Area Pagans that you can visit at: http://anarchistworld.wordpress.com To join this blog you will need to first register for your own wordpress blog at: http://wordpress.com That will create your username and password and get them into the Wordpress system. Then you can email me at email@example.com. Put Lakes Area Pagans as the title of the email and tell me why you want to join the blog as a contributor. I will then personally register you. This is a security precaution that needs to be taken. Anyone not willing to do this much is not worth
being a member! Pouck has it right in his little questionnaire! Before anyone can join a group they need to meet each other and see how the energy dynamics play out. Some people can work together and some can’t. This third issue is proof that some of us can at least do this much in a spirit of love and cooperation. If we want to do more we need to talk about it and the Lakes Area Pagans blog is the place to talk! One last final piece in parting. I committed to making four issues of Lakes Area Pagan. That means the coming spring issue is the fourth. I will be taking these first four issues and binding them together in a book called Lakes Area Pagans Book of Shadows. You have only one more chance to include your material in this Book of Shadows. Contribute something for the spring issue! There will be many more issues of Lakes Area Pagan of course! But there will only be one Book of Shadows! Bright blessings! -anarchistbanjo
Samhain is Here Again!
It’s Halloween time again! Despite the fact that my birthday is in October, I still enjoy this festive time of year. Gaudy commercialized witches grace our door and windows, while skeletons guard our dinner table and living room. I love spider web candelabras and skull coffee mugs all the way through autumn as a reminder of all the fun to come. Though my children dress up and enjoy trick-ortreating like all other children, they also realize this is the time of year to celebrate our ancestors. Our family tries to find new facts about the lands our ancestors came from. I try to read a few traditional stories or myths from our lands to keep the old legends alive for another generation. My children know the history of jack-o-lanterns and why we celebrate Halloween in the first place. Though we all know the why behind the holiday it doesn’t stop us from shedding our adult ways and dressing up as our favorite witch, ghost or ghoul. This is the time of year for reflection and renewal of course, but in our house, its also the time for candy corn, apple cider, and scary stories. Sometimes we all just need an excuse to be childish while still celebrating our traditions, Halloween is mine! ~ Arrow ~
Late Summer Nights Dream
It begins, timeless The charade of life Goddess astride a silver stallion Romping and singing In the playground of my mind Light hearted and sensuous Behold, the sight of her Enslaves my heart The musical comedy goes on Beneath the silver birch We walk together, Hand in hand She hesitates Will love conquer The fear of a Goddess? -Anarchistbanjo1
The full moon is a monthly occurrence that everyone is at least partially aware of. I say partially aware because in our society we don’t structure our lives around natural phenomena anymore. However, no matter what our cultural background, our ancestors most certainly paid attention for their survival. Astrology, actually the parent of Astronomy, was the first “science” created by our two-legged ancestors. They knew that by studying the heavens above or sky, it helped them to understand the cycles and natural phenomena that they were subject to, enabling them to better adapt and work with the elements. Thus the phrase that
sums astrology up in nutshell, “As above, so below.” We are very fortunate to have in our neck of the woods a culture that is aware and honors the natural cycles including the various “moons” of the month. The Ojibwe or Anishinabe (original person) have given individual names for each full moon occurring in a month. These names reflect the changing seasons and its effect on the tribe. For the month of November the name given to the Full Moon is Freezing Moon or in the Ojibwe language “Gashkadino-Giizis.” The full moon this year occurs on November 13th, and as Full Moons traditionally bring to our attention those things that need attending to, it is well to remember, especially in our clime, that winter is coming and indeed a freeze is upon us. Practical suggestions this moon reminds us to do are winterize both house and vehicle, store provisions, cut wood, cover or bring in plants and I think just as importantly prepare ourselves mentally for the long season of cold and darkness. According to Ojibwe tradition, November heralded the telling of stories that taught important legends. A significant value taught by these stories was of respect. Respect for the elements, the animals and their close relationship with them. Interestingly enough, they also believed that the spirits or “Manidoog” were near and by the telling of their legends, if you listened closely, you would acquire some power or gift from them. These “oral traditions” kept the values and traditions of the tribe unified down through history.
For a time that tradition was lost but is being revived along with their original language to help modern Ojibwe connect with their roots. As the freezing moon rises and shines over your “house” this November may it bring to light your personal story or legend that will help sustain you through the months to come. Perhaps if you don’t already have a tradition around Thanksgiving you could start one this year by asking the “elders” to share their stories or memories. I think that it would serve us well to remember no matter what your tradition, cultural background or genetic link, we are all connected and subject to the natural world. Let’s use the differences to unify us under one Moon, this month the Freezing Moon, and celebrate not only our story, but also the story of the survival of our species.
For more information on the Ojibwe culture visit www.millelacsojibwe.org/index.asp -A Starchild
1 The Raven
Cloaked in infinite Shimmering obsidian. The raven I am By birthright. Sweet surrender Let me drown in her Her song is mine, Echoing within me silently. Pounding inside, Against my eternal shores. The Raven, In dark mystery Is my soul that soars On my song unsung. ~ Arrow
Basic Circle Ritual
As I sweep, may the besom chase away all negativity from within this circle, that it may be cleared and made ready for our work. The circle is about to be cast and I freely stand within to greet my Lady and Lord (Use center candle) N - ) I call upon light and Earth at the North to illuminate and strengthen the circle. E - ) I call upon the light and air at the East to illuminate and enlighten the circle. S - ) I call upon light and fire at the South to illuminate and warm the circle. W - ) I call upon light and water to illuminate and cleanse the circle. Raise wand - I draw this circle in the presence of the powers of the Earth, sky, sun and sea, that they may aid and bless me in my work. (Circle) This is the boundary of the circle, around me, through walls and floors, above me, and below me as a sphere is the circle cast and consecrated to the Powers of Nature and the Universe that they may work with me. This circle is charged that only love shall enter and leave. Salt is life and purifying. I bless this salt to be used in this sacred circle by the Powers of the
Goddess and the God. Let the blessed salt purify this water that it may be blessed to use in this sacred circle. Through the Power of the Goddess and the God this water is cleansed. (Walk) I consecrate this circle by the Lady and the Lord. This circle is conjured as a circle of power that is purified and sealed. So mote it be. With the aroma of incense do I honor and make welcome any visitors and helpers, visible and invisible. (With wand) N -) I call upon you, Elemental Earth to attend this rite and guard this circle for as I have body and strength, we are kith and kin. E - ) I call upon you Elemental Air to attend this rite and guard this circle, for as I breath and think, we are kith and kin. S - ) I call upon you Elemental Fire to attend this rite and guard this circle for as I have energy and drive and consume life to live we are kith and kin. W - ) I call upon Elemental Water to attend this rite and guard this circle for as I have emotions and my heart beats, we are kith and kin. (Raise athame in both hands) Hail to the Elementals at the Four Quarters! I stand between the worlds with Love and Power all around. (Cakes and Wine) I acknowledge my needs and offer my appreciation to that which sustains me! May I ever remember the blessings of the Lady and the Lord. Wine - As the divine male joins with the divine
female for the benefit of Both, let the fruits of their sacred union promote life, love and joy. Let the earth be fruitful and let her bounty be spread throughout all lands. Cakes - This food is the blessing of the Lady and the Lord given to me. As I have received, may it offer food for the body, mind and spirit to those who seek such of me. As I have enjoyed these gifts of the Goddess and the God, may I remember that without them I would have nothing. So mote it be! (Dismiss) Lord and Lady I have been blessed by your sharing this time with us, watching and guarding us, guiding us here in and in all things. I came in love and depart in love. (Raise Athame) Love is the law and love is the bond. Merry did I meet and merry do I part and merry will I meet again. Merry meet, merry part and merry meet again. The circle is cleared. So mote it be! N - ) Depart in peace elemental Earth. My blessings take with you E - ) Depart in peace elemental Air. My blessings take with you. S - ) Depart in peace elemental Fire. My blessings take with you. W - ) Depart in peace elemental Water. My blessings take with you. (Open arms)
Beings and powers of the visible and invisible, depart in peace! You aid in my work, whisper in my mind and bless me from the other world. Let there be harmony between us. My blessings take with you. (Counter clockwise with athame) The circle is open yet the circle remains as its magickal power is drawn back to me. The circle is cleared! So mote it be! - Kat
When you’re lost, They will find you When you’re hurt, They will heal you When in danger, They will protect you When in sorrow, They will give comfort When mistaken or ignorant, They will correct And enlighten. In return, When they need you, You will be there To give what has been given Knowing that you are needed, Loved and worthy of all That you have received. Then in times of joy and plenty Hand in hand we rejoice. -Ulla Gillraen
I touch ground I touch sky I reach windward I reach inward Time touches me Time deepens me I deepen sky I weep windward I time inward My rhyme deepens My time lengthens Wind sweeps me Snow heaps me I’m not bound I touch ground -SnowBound
To hold such purity To hold infinite light To draw it all down into yourself. To close your mind From all the darkness To see all possibilities To drawn it all down into yourself. To feel untainted emotion To see pure color, hear pure sound To draw it all down into yourself And remember. ~ Arrow
Riding to the Sabbat
The time is late fall in the year 1272 somewhere in the British Isles. Exactly where I can not say, my oath, upon penalty of death, forbids me from revealing anything that might identify where we meet or who it may be that comes to our convening. Such an oath might sound way too harsh, but nowadays we who practice the Old Ways are persecuted and ridiculed by the authorities and the 'good Christian' folk. There have even been a few incidents of violence towards those who practice the Old Ways by the Church and 'good Christian' folk. One of the Witches we knew in a village not far from here was found burned to death in her home recently. The authorities ruled the fire as 'accidental' but one of our own saw several villagers running from her home just prior to the fire. We dare say nothing, lest it bring suspicion on ourselves. It is feared that it will get even worse in times yet to come. I can say that it is an ancient land where we coven. It is a land of rolling hills, interspersed with forests, farmland, and villages. It is night, but the moon is full and bright, with only an occasional thin cloud passing in front of the full moon, so we can see very well as we ride with great haste to our destination. The air is crisp and fresh, although not cold, just that late fall is definitely in the air. My true love and I are riding through the forest and when we come to
a field or open area we try to stick close to the tree line. We do not want to draw attention to ourselves. Actually we really want to go unnoticed. Most 'good folk' are already inside with their doors locked and their windows shuttered. But one never can be too cautious these days. A farmer might be checking his flock or his cattle. Nowadays anyone seen out after dark will be under suspicion of being a thief or worse they could be accused of 'cavorting' with the Christian ‘Devil’! The Christians have made Him into their 'Devil' but to us he is our Witch Father and he is our deliverer. We believe He is truly the one who brought selfawareness and enlightenment to mankind. We are cloaked against the night air and also to conceal our identity, should anyone happen to see us. We ride north and now we are coming to the Old Forest. It looms ahead, dark, towering, foreboding, and ominous. This is an ancient forest, as the trees there are very, very old, mostly giant old Oak trees. Few venture into the Old Forest, even during the daylight, much less at night. Among the local villagers and peasants it has long been rumored that there are strange things that live there and that strange rites are practiced by those who still follow the Old Ways. As we enter the Old Forest we follow a path known only to the few who dare enter this dark and frightening place. As we ride forth deeper into the wood we can still see the path although the great ancient trees are huge and block some of the
moonlight, so our pace has slowed. We have ridden for almost an hour since we left our farmstead. We had to wait until we could ride under the cover of darkness, so no one would see us or follow us. Now we are deep within the forest, we have seen no one, only an Owl and a deer have we seen since entering the Old Forest. Ah ha, what did I see, just ahead? I flicker of light? As we ride on I soon see what appears to be a dark shadowy figure carrying a small lantern. My heart quickens, as I know well that we are drawing close to our destination. In a few moments we are upon the shadowy figure. Ah, it is someone in a hooded robe; slowly she turns to greet us. As she turns I instantly recognize her. It is the Old Woman from the village next to our farmstead. My true love and I have attended many Rites in this deep and ancient forest with her. We greet her and I dismount, offering her my steed to give her a ride, but she declines, saying, we have only a very short way to go. She says “follow me”. My Arianne also dismounts and we follow the Old Woman. Soon we are approaching a clearing, well lit in the light of the full moon. As we approach we can see several other robed and hooded figures are gathered there as well. We enter the clearing and tie our steeds to a tree and proceed toward those gathered at the center of the clearing. I know we are safe here as it is a place deep in the Old Forest, that not even the Kings men venture into.
Soon we are in the center of the clearing where everyone else is gathering. We greet everyone and all are glad we made it safely too. There are 11 others besides Arianne and myself. We have been meeting here, deep in the Old Forest on the full moon for almost 4 years now. We know everyone by first names only. At that, it is likely most or all do not use their real names anyway. It is too dangerous. The Christians are rabid about destroying our Old Ways and to be known as one that follows the Old Ways can be very dangerous. That is another reason we never ever write anything down, lest it be found in our possession. Soon the Old Woman, known only as Marlenna, calls to an older gentleman, known only as Old John, saying they need to begin. We know that the Rite is about to start. I can feel my pulse quicken a bit. I look at Arianne and she smiles, she too knows what will be happening. We all gather around a large gray boulder that is set in the center of the clearing. It is flat on top and there are a few things on it, a goat skull, a black handled knife, a wand made from ash, a white candle, a bottle of wine, a cup, a loaf of bread. A goat skull, you wonder why we would have this? We know that it signifies the presence of our God, The Old One, Witch Father or The Horned One as we sometimes call Him. The black handled knife and ash wand we use sometimes when we do magick. The white candle represents our Goddess.
We often refer to her as The Witch Mother. I notice that the Coven Stang is, as usual, placed in the North. The Coven Stang happens to be something I made for the Coven. It is an Ash pole about 7 feet tall, on top are the horns of a Stag. A red ribbon hangs from one of the horns, to signify the Witch Mother or our Goddess as some might call Her. The red ribbon also signifies the Witchblood, that unique energy which flows in the blood of Witches. There is also a dark green ribbon which hangs from the other horn, it signifies our God or as some call Him the Witch Father. It also signifies the forest where He lives and where we come to meet with Him. On them both are the words, knowledge, trust, truth, wisdom, silence, carved in Runes. Ah, the Runes. We know the Runes are a very special language. Great knowledge, wisdom, and power the Runes do hold for those who have learned their secrets. We all spend a few minutes in silence, leaving the mundane world behind. We are now entering a world only a very, very few even know exists. Old John takes some flour out of a bag he has brought with him. He slowly circles outside of the Coven, circling widershins, and chanting as he marks out a circle with the flour. He chants in the ancient language, “I conjure ye circle round, be ye a boundry between the world of the mundane and Cowan, and a protector of ye Witches that now enter the
Otherworld. By ye power of the Ancient Ones I cast out all unclean spirits, evil, and malevolence from this circle.” Old John now takes a bottle of spring water from his bag and goes to each of the four directions pouring a small stream of water outside the circle he has just made with the flour. As he does we hear him calling to the Great Powers of each direction to come forth and join with us this night as we celebrate the harvest and change of seasons. You ask what are the Great Powers? They are the Elemental forces of the Cardinal directions. We Witches know that the directions represent Fire, Earth, Water, and Air. Yet there is a still deeper meaning as to what does Earth, Air, Fire, and Water represent. This I am oath bound to not say. He starts in the North and goes around widdershins, stopping at each of the four cardinal directions asking the Great Power of North, then West, then South, and finally East to come forth and celebrate with us. His words are simple but direct as he asks the Great Powers to join us. A little something you might have noticed. We ask, never command, the Gods and Powers. A child asks its parents, a child does not order or command its parents! After a few moments Marlenna turns to the East and begins chanting, greeting the Moon as we can now see it rising above the great Oaks. She uses an ancient language that only few know nowadays. But we know what the words mean, and we know she is welcoming our Goddess.
“Great ancient lady, Witch Mother, giver of life, we your hidden children who adore thee, we thank you for the bounty ye have given us this season. We thank ye for bringing us here safely this night. Ancient Witch Mother, we welcome thee. We are so very honored that you are here with us to celebrate this night. Come forth, join us, join our celebration in this circle round.” She then goes to the boulder and lights the white candle, signifying the presence of the Witch Mother. Now Marlenna and Old John come before the large rock in the center of our circle. Again in the Ancient language they call upon the Witch Father and Witch Mother. Marleena starts with her chanting asking the God of the Witches, the Witch Father, whom she calls Old Horned One, Goat Footed One and Witch Father. “Come forth this night in this compass round, join us as we celebrate the plenty you have given us this season past. Come join us, come forth. Come into him, ye humble Witch, he who stands before this altar, that through him you may walk among us this night.” Then we can all clearly see that Old John is truly transformed and the spirit of the Old Horned One is in him. It is as if he is young again, there is a fire in his eyes, he seems to be standing straighter as if his back is straight, there is a spring in his step, you can feel the energy in him and you can feel the heat of his body warming the circle. You can clearly see he
is in a trance like state and clearly he is a host to the spirit of the Witch Father. The Witch Father now goes widdershins, around the circle, as he does he speaks secretly and quietly to each member of the coven. What is said is between the Witch Father and each Witch, never to be shared with anyone. What I can say is that Witch Father always knows everything about you and his message is direct, blunt, and exactly what you need to hear at the time. When Old John is done speaking to each coven member he rejoins the Old Woman, Marlenna, by the big gray boulder in the center of the circle. Being that this Sabbat is about giving thanks and a celebration, we do not work magic or spells as we might at another Sabbat. Before the celebration and wildness begin, Marlenna speaks to the Witch Mother giving thanks for all She has done for us this season and that even though the Witch Mother now goes deep below the land to join the Fae and the Ancestors to rest. Still we know the mystery that She is always with us. Even though this night we are not doing magick, we are here to celebrate and will raise energy that we may enjoy our communion with each other, and our Witch Mother and Witch Father who have joined us this night. Now we commence with the wild drumming, dancing widershins around the fire, and chanting an
ancient witch’s rune over and over and over, wild, ecstatic dancing. We experience the presence of departed souls and spirits of the Old Forest. We see them in the shadows around the clearing, some clearer than others. Some are clearly human appearing; others are darker figures dancing along the edge of the clearing, This goes on for some time, and even though it is cool in the evening air we are sweating, some of us remove their top garments. A few women even bare their tops in the wildness and frenzy of the dancing. This act of baring oneself is because we Witches are one with nature and wildness. We feel that clothes are sometimes a hindrance to what we do in circle round. Also we do this in an act of defiance to the Christian Church who has made so many feel there is something unclean about their bodies. You can feel the energy; it is a surreal experience. Finally after what must be at least half an hour or more, Marlenna yells “harraya” and everyone stops their wild dancing and falls on their hands and knees to the ground. This serves a couple of purposes, it help bring them back from their trance state to a more normal state of mind, and each Witch is projecting their energy into the ground where we circle. We have created this sacred circle round many times and we know the secret of storing energy for future use, but that is something I can not say further about.
We know our location is secret and that no one dare venture where we meet so we leave our energy in the ground and over the years it has built up. All I can say is that to walk on this ground is something that can only be understood by experience. Nor would anyone else know how to access the energy anyway. It is starting to get late and soon the rite will be ending. Old John takes the wine and holds it up in front of the gray boulder that is our altar, in the ancient language asks the Witch Father to bless it. Marlenna takes the bread and again in the ancient language she asks the Witch Mother to bless it. Now they pass the wine and the bread around. Something is of interest. We do this widdershins, as we do most things widdershins. Going widdershins represents going into or being in the Otherworld as we coven and traverse not in the mundane world when we are the circle. Before we are finally done, Marlenna and Old John thank the Witch father and Witch mother for their presence and assistance. They ask that all here may be safe in their travel home this night. They then thank the Great Powers of the four Cardinal directions. You may notice we do not 'dismiss' or 'bid farewell’ to the Witch Mother or Witch Father, or the Great Powers, because we believe they are always with the witch no matter where he or she may go. But we
do thank them for all they do for us. The coven members now visit for a time afterwards. But it is late and we need to be getting on our way. We say our good-byes and ride away from the clearing and into the forest. The moon once again lights our way and having traveled this path many times we have no trouble navigating it through the Old Forest. After about an hour’s ride, we approach our farm. Although we are cautious and stay along a fence line with trees for cover, we pause and watch for a bit to make sure no one has followed us and that no one is waiting for us at our farm. We are cautious, even though we have never had anyone catch us at our night forays to the coven. After we have entered our cottage, Arianne and I are tired but filled with a feeling that is almost like the ecstasy one has when in love. We look out one last time at the moon high in the sky, we feel the love that only a child of the Witch Father and Witch Mother can understand. As we retire to our bed, we lay in each other’s arms, in peace, in love, in a place only those who have been to the Sabbat will understand. It is a feeling like none other, beyond what any words can describe, beyond ecstasy. If you are ever so lucky to experience a Sabbat in the Old Forest you will know of what I speak. -Pouck
Running fierce & free Arms spread wide for the world to see. Entrancing beauty, warm & bright Yet terrifying in its might. A beacon of warning to the wise, All are equal in your eyes. Cleanly destroying all our gains. Leaving only ashen plains. Yet you sweeten with your hands, In the path you make, the newborn stands. Allowing even barren sand To give forth life and fill the land. From your crackling flames a lesson tell us. Maintain the balance or face your malice. -Ulla Gillraen
History of the tarot
In present day when we hear about tarot cards most of us think, “I know what those are. You use them fortune telling.” Few people really know the true history of the cards. Originally they were not meant for fortune telling, they were playing cards. The game itself was something similar to Phase Ten or bridge. The cards were lavish hand-painted decks. You can still buy copies of the original deck. The game is still played in Italy and some parts of Germany and Turkey. I have been told that you can substitute a tarot deck of today for a torochi deck in the game but the card numbering is off. The Tarot deck originated in northern Italy early in the 15th century (1420-1440).There is no evidence for it originating in any other place or time as far as I can tell. The first known name of the cards is carte da trionfi, cards of the triumphs. Around 1530 (about 100 years after the origin of the cards), the word tarocchi or singular form tarocco was used for what was then ordinary playing cards. The German form is tarock; the French form is tarot. The cards appeared quite suddenly in many different European cities between 1475 and 1478, most likely spread by way of the silk roads. The card decks we use today (both numbered and divination) are remodeled forms of the original torrochi decks. I’m sure you’re wondering by now how the cards became the tarot decks of today and how they made
their way into becoming widely known and used divination tools. Well, if you were to look at your tarot deck and compare it to the torrochi deck, it is almost identical. You can see how people could find other uses for the deck, because the cards could depict daily life and so on. The divinatory meanings weren’t associated with the tarot till the 1700’s, whereas card decks that contained known trumps were found as early as 1487. For the first 350 years of the tarot's existence it was not associated with magic or the occult. The interest in tarot as a magical tool didn’t blossom till the 1780’s. The first occult writers to bring up tarot were Count de Gébelin and the Comte de Mellet in 1781. It wasn’t till 1790 that the deck was modified for divination uses. I think it was the Etteilla deck that did this first, but I have found contradictory reports. Once I get a Torrochi deck of my own I will write an article comparing the two decks, along with the rules of play for my personal records. I also plan to purchase some books on the Silk Road for further information. If you would like updates on this feel free to e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org. -Ulla Gillraen
Dawn walks slowly Feeling the sweet pleasure Race through her body. As the trees outstretched limbs Strain to caress her fiery soul. The passion heightens as she Rises and swoons. She arches her back To the world Flooding forth light In a crystal clear spring Of ecstasy. ~ Arrow
The stars shine weak And weary, faint hearted they Stagger as the bloody sickle Mows them down Silver grains fall before The harlot of the night Her crimson light Shines on all as she Gathers her grim harvest Before the golden dawn -Anarchistanjo
This is something I wrote as a questionnaire for anyone new that thinks they might be interested in the path of Wicca / Witchcraft. Covens sometimes use such a questionnaire for prospective members. The reason a coven does this is simple. First they want to see if the person will even complete the questionnaire and are still interested after doing so. Or did the questions and work scare them off. You would be surprised by how many people really do not even finish these questionnaires. They have it for 3 months and then say they have not got it done because they are too busy or whatever excuse they can come up with. Those who go looking for a coven and yet don't want to put any effort into it are often called "users" and "takers". Covens normally do not waste their time and energy on these people and they are told to look elsewhere. There are really no right or wrong answers to the questionnaire. A coven simply wants to know what the person’s knowledge base is, how they perceive things, are they willing to think about some new things and take a few hours and complete the questionnaire. The only way to fail it is to not do it. So if they are not willing to even finish, there is no way they are going to get dedicated, much less be willing to do the work required to actually get initiated.
Some covens are not all fluffy bunny and after a certain point they get into some genuine and serious witchcraft that actually does have serious power and they want to make sure someone is not just looking for a social event and a little party. All covens are social gatherings and celebrations on a certain level, but some go further and deeper. There are covens around, all with different degrees of knowledge and intensity. There is nothing wrong with those who mainly focus on socializing and doing some type of a celebratory Sabbat at the 8 Festivals of the year. There is a lot more going on in the Pagan and Witchcraft communities than you will see or know when you first get involved with them. What is really going on 'behind the scenes' so to speak takes a long time to get access to. Mainly it takes them a long time to develop enough trust to be allowed access to this stuff. There are highly guarded secrets, rites, and things you will never find in a published book or online. This is the stuff that will do to magick, ritual, and yourself what putting nitro-methane in your car will do to your car. But regardless of all the ceremony and fan fare associated with rites, rituals and magick, what I can tell you, to boil a lot of it down, is that you can accomplish a great deal if you learn to go into trance well, raise, focus, and direct energy. Really if you can do those things well and have specific
deities that you have developed a personal relationship with, you can do a lot. SOME THINGS TO LEARN AND KNOW There are some questions you will need to know the answers to as time goes on. We can give you some guidance on which ones come first, just ask. If you need a little help or assistance just ask. We can not help unless asked to do so. We have a ‘rule’; we do not interfere, help, or hinder, unless asked to do so. Even then only within our ethics, and only what you actually need help with. This is only a beginning. There is much to learn and know. But fret not, it takes a long time and we understand that. Work as you can, but be steady, always moving forward. Once you have come to the Crossroads and journeyed forward, there is no turning back. Once you take the 'road less traveled' your life will begin to change, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast. Some things and people you knew in your life up to this point will gradually fade away and new ones will gradually come into your life. You will begin to see and understand things differently. This is different than what you have been exposed to before. Much deeper, if you feel you are ready, at times you may question your own sanity. Are you ready to continue forward? (1) What is it that you seek and why, in regards to spirituality? Be specific and detailed. (2) What is it you call yourself, Heathen, Pagan,
Wiccan, Witch, or what and why do you call your self that? (3) What is Wicca? Explain its core or basic beliefs. (4) What is Shamanism? Explain its core or basic beliefs. (5) What is Witchcraft? Explain its core or basic beliefs. (6) What is the '1734 Tradition'? (7) What is the Left Hand Path? Explain its core or basic beliefs. (8) Is there actually a difference between Wicca, Witchcraft, Shamanism, the Left Hand Path? If so what are the differences? (9) What is good or right? (10) What is evil or wrong? (11) What is your understanding of and opinion of good and evil? (12) What are your personal beliefs and concept of deity? (13) What or who are your personal deity(s)? (14) Are deities real or something we create in our own minds? Why do you believe this? (15) Does the deity(s) exist outside of us, inside us,
or both? (16) What are the 'Crossroads'? 'Ghost roads'? (17) Who or what are the 'Hidden Children'? (18) What is the Wheel of the Year? Write a description of each of the days on the Wiccan Wheel of the year. (19) What are the basic working tools of the Wiccan or Witch? Describe each, how each is used, what does each tool symbolize, and why it is used. (20) What is the 'Pentagram'? What does each point of the pentagram represent? (21) When and why would you a circle cast? (22) Do 'traditional witches' cast a circle? If so what would it traditionally be called? (23) What are basic elements of casting a circle? Explain how you do it. (24) What are the quarters? (25) What do the quarters symbolize in the macrocosm and the macrocosm? (26) What are the basics of doing a ritual? (27) What is an 'Esbat'? What is a 'Sabbat'? What are the Greater Sabbats? What are the Lesser Sabbats?
(28) What does 'skyclad' mean? Are you comfortable with that in ritual? (29) What does 'evoking' mean? (30) What does 'invoking' mean? (31) What is the 'Great Rite'? What does it symbolize? When and why would it be used? Is it done symbolically or in actuality? (32) What is will? (33) What is ego? (34) What is soul? (35) What is spirit? (36) Is there a difference between soul and spirit or are they the same thing? (37) Do you believe in life after death, if so why? If not, why? (38) Have you ever had any supernatural experience? (39) What is 'trance'? Why would it be important to be able to go into trance? Can you go into trance? What method(s) do you use to induce trance? (40) What is 'grounding? Why is it important and how do you do it? (41) What is 'shielding'? Why is it important? How
do you do it? (42) Is secrecy important or not? Why? (42) What is an 'oath'? Is it important or not and why do you think so? (43) What do you have to offer to a coven or to a working circle of witches, in regard to abilities or something you can contribute as a person? (44) Do you know 'the price' of that which you seek? What do you think 'the price' is? (45) Are you willing to pay 'the price'? (46) What books have you read? (47) How often do you practice your spirituality, and how do you practice it? (48) Are you trustworthy? (49) Are you honest? (50) Are you careful who you associate with, so as not to contaminate your aurora and energy field? (51) What is the 'Witches Pyramid'? (52) What is the 'Stang'? (53) Who are the 'Witch Father' and 'Witch Mother'? (54) What is a 'spell'? What are the basic components of a spell?
I snuggle deeper into my blankets As autumn quietly falls around my slumber Orange leaves, red sumac Diminishing sunlight spiraling into prisms My body wakens slowly and reluctantly Protesting cold and fighting inertia I would be happy to skip winter And slip slide right into spring light -Snowbound
You are that divine spark In the deep synapses of my brain That links every cell of my Being to the eternal essence of creation. Every atom of my body Coalesces with the energy Of God. Touching, orbiting, swirling Through the endless possibilities That we are God. ~ Arrow
By Hanns Heinz Ewers (Mein Begräbnis 1910) Translation by Joe E. Bandel 2008 Protected under United States Copyright Law as a derivative work of a foreign Author originally published prior to 1923 Three days before my death I sent a postcard to the “Red Riders”. Even so, this story should really have occurred in Berlin! The “Berliner” is refined. They say “lift” instead of “elevator”. They are “Gents” and on no account “Gentlemen”. When they want something done they send a dispatch to the “Messenger Boy Institute”. You can gather from that why this story never happened in Berlin. I wrote to the “Red Riders” because they sounded very nice and not to the Messenger Boys because they would have thrown my postcard away. My card announced: Three days after receipt of this card please pick up a crate for the cemetery. The presence of all Red Riders is required. Payment and further instructions will be with the crate. Then my name and address. The Red Riders came promptly and with them came the Chief Rider. In Berlin you would say the General Director of the Messenger Boy Institute. He
was inspecting a large coffin sized crate on which I had painstakingly painted “Glass”, “Fragile”, “Caution” and “Do Not Drop”. Naturally my corpse was in the old crate but I had not closed the cover because I wanted a beautiful funeral and needed to pay attention to make sure everything went right. First the Chief took the gold and counted it. “Forty five Red Riders for two hours—it fits”. He put the gold in his wallet and looked at my instructions. “No”, he said then. “It doesn’t. We don’t do this.” I made my voice real hollow and answered from out of the crate, “The Red Riders will do anything”. The Chief Rider was not certain where the voice had come from. He scratched his nose. “Should I?” He said. “Should I?” His conscience hit him. On all his advertisements it explicitly stated “The Rider Riders will do anything”. One of the boys wanted to nail the cover down but the Chief waved him back. “Forward!” He cried and pointed to the directions. “It specifically says here the cover must stay open. I will do what I’m paid to do. There will be no black marks on my account even if it would be allowed.” “First we say a short prayer. Do any of you know a short prayer?” None of the Red Riders knew a short prayer. “What about a longer one?” But they couldn’t get a longer one right. “The Red Riders will do anything!” I said hollowly from out of my crate. The Chief Rider looked around. “But of course!” He cried quickly.
“There is still a beautiful one if the Red Riders can’t come up with anything else.” He turned to all the youngsters. “Frtiz, you certainly know a prayer?” “I know a prayer all right,” opinioned the urchin. “But not ordinarily for…” “That doesn’t matter!” The Chief Rider interrupted. “Whether it is an ordinary prayer or an unordinary one, the important thing is that we pray! So say your prayer and everyone else say it with him.” Fritz prayed and the others shouted along as loud as they could. “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest and let these gifts to us be blessed.” “Amen,” said the Chief Rider unctuously. “That is really an excellent prayer. Remember it for the future.” He followed my orders completely. Then they loaded the crate on a cargo tricycle that the strongest youth drove. Fritz needed to sit on top so the cover wouldn’t fall off. All the Red Riders sprang onto their bicycles and went as fast as they could through the streets. The people cheered at the lively train of Red Riders. In my crate I thought how different is was to be so enjoyably rushing to the churchyard instead of going slowly in a black funeral carriage with ghastly mourners trotting alongside. In twenty minutes we were there. They leaned their bicycles against the fence and the four largest carefully unloaded the crate. The Chief Rider looked at my instructions and directed: “2nd crossroads, 8th corridor left from the main road! On the right side! Grave #48678!”
That is where the solemn procession brought the old crate. The grave was already open; a pair of large shovels were stuck in a pile of loose dirt. A single Red Rider crept into the grave and carefully placed the crate. Then they stood in a wide circle around the grave. “Everyone light a cigarette!” The Chief Rider commanded. Most of them had their own cigarettes and offered their tins to those that didn’t. “I can’t smoke,” said Fritz. “It makes me— “ But I interrupted him, “The Red Riders will do anything!” The Chief glanced around his company deeply insulted. “Who said that?” He cried. “I will not tolerate any more useless words from any of you. Obviously the Red Riders will do anything! You, Fritz, smoke! A Red Rider must smoke as well as they can pray!” Fritz lit his cigarette and so did the others. “Now,” said the Chief Rider looking again at his slip of paper. “Now we begin the funeral service. We sing a melody like we are in a dark gloomy forest.” “All together—this verse: The Red Riders will do anything— for the living and the dead— it is our job!” They all sang so that it resounded and I sang along with them in my crate. “Now comes the eulogy,” he continued. “Today we have the honor and great pleasure of being permitted for the first time to escort someone to their final resting place. We don’t know any more of his virtues except for the fact that his last request was to permanently set a memorial in the hearts of all Red Riders by paying them each 3 Marks and 45
pennies for two hours work. Friendly patronizing aside, on these grounds let us all join in a cheer to the blessed deceased.” “Hurrah, Hurrah, Hurrah!” And the Red Riders screamed, “Hurrah, Hurrah, Hurrah!” “Very good,” said the Chief Rider. “If I were in that crate I would gratefully applaud! Now to close we will sing the favorite song of the deceased and let him sleep in the Lord.” “Daughter of Zion be glad; Jerusalem rejoice!” It sounded out across the cemetery to where another group was singing at the 3rd crossroads, 8 corridors down and left from the main road. That is to say, to where another funeral was taking place at grave #48679 on the left side diagonally across from me. They were burying some honorable Privy Councillor and there were a horrendous number of people, Professors, Judges, Military Officers and wealthy industrialists—all refined people! But it was still only an old style funeral without Red Riders. The Chief Rider waited politely until the people finished singing. Then he cried anew, “Now we sing the favorite song of the departed.” “Daughter of Zion be glad—,” but he couldn’t finish because the fat pastor began a droning eulogy over at the other funeral. The Chief Rider waited another five minutes, ten minutes, but the pastor would not stop and was making it bad for me. “Such speech will speed the decomposition of my corpse considerably,” I thought to myself.
The Chief Rider thought so too and looked at his watch. But the pastor talked and talked. Finally it was too long for the Chief Rider. He had only been paid for two hours. He commanded anew and all forty-five Red Riders let out once more: “Daughter of Zion be glad!” The pastor fought on and would not give in. But what is the power of a preacher against forty-five Red Riders? I felt solid satisfaction that the youths were winning and my modern funeral would clear the battlefield and put the old middle class world to shame. The pastor stopped. But the clergy can never really be defeated. That will not do. He spoke to a couple of gentlemen in top hats and they in turn spoke to some guards. The guards put their helmets on their heads and came over to my grave. They were eager to speak with the Chief Rider but he held his position. “We are doing our job,” he said coldly. “Do you have a permit?” One of the guards asked. “Certainly!” The Chief Rider answered and reached into his wallet. “Here it is. An official permit for my Red Riders!” “Hmm,” remarked the guard. “A permit for burials?” “The Red Riders will do anything!” The Chief declared bravely. “Bravo! Bravo!” I cried in my crate. “No one here shouts Bravo!” The guard yelled. He demanded that all the Red Riders leave but the Chief Rider would not. He was not yet finished with the celebration that he had been commissioned and paid for. He was an honorable man and his
highest principle was a strict sense of duty. He requested that the guards leave in an orderly way. “Such a shrewd citizen!” I thought. “Now it will get into the press and make good publicity for him.” The guards yelled but the Chief Rider yelled even louder. Slowly all the Professors, Judges, Military Officers and wealthy industrialists came over from the other funeral and mixed in. When the pastor came it was entirely too late. He saw the Red Riders in their red caps and jackets with cigarettes in their mouths. “Pfui!” He said. Then he took his glasses off and set them on my crate. “ ‘Fragile’, ‘Do not drop’, What’s going on here?” He asked sharply. It was little Fritz that gave him the dreadful answer. He really couldn’t smoke and the cigarette was making him sick. He bent forward and then back and then forward again in even faster motion. That’s when the accident happened all over the black gown of the pastor. At first he was speechless, but then everyone was trying to give him his or her handkerchiefs. He got hold of himself and declared seriously: “That really oversteps all boundaries. I am publicly offended.” “I am also publicly offended,” voiced a gentleman with twenty-seven medals. “We have jurisdiction because we are publicly offended,” said the guards. Things were getting much too colorful for me. I saw that I must come to the help of my hard-pressed Red Riders. I shoved the lid open, stood up and cried in wrath.
“And I, gentlemen, for your disrespectful participation in my burial, I am publicly offended!” The pastor stared horrified into the grave. “Is this a Christian burial?” He stammered. “No,” I said. “This is a modern burial with Red Riders.” I sat on my crate, jammed my eyepiece into my eye and glared at the people. I was in pajamas but had been afraid of getting too cold in the grave so I had brought my fur coat along as well. That made quite an impression on the gentlemen since it was the middle of summer. No one was paying attention to the funeral of the Privy Councillor, that was for certain. “Get out of here, go away!” I started. “I paid for this grave and it belongs to me. I am legally dead and can have a little fun if I want! Go away! Here in this hole and in this crate I am Master of the house and I advise you not to trespass. “This is a scandal,” said the gentleman with the medals. “This is a malicious scandal.” Then the Public Prosecutor came. “There must be an end to this foolish charade,” he hissed at me. “I arrest you in the name of the Law. I request the guards do their duty.” The guards climbed into the hole and laid their wide paws on my shoulders, but I looked at them sharply and said. “Have you lost all respect for the sanctity of the dead?” “He is not dead! He is a fraud!” The very angry Public Prosecutor cried. “Really?” I laughed. “Just a moment, I will offer the guards my death certificate. Here, satisfy yourselves. And by the way,” I went on. “If this slip
from the county doctor is not enough, prove it yourself, you old ass!” The gentleman with the medals stuck his nose in the air, sniffed, and moved back. “The Devil!” He cried. “Please keep the boundary of decency and good manners my friend,” I admonished. “Bear in mind where we are. It is a torrid red-hot July day and almost noon. I am a corpse. I have a right to stink!” But the Public Prosecutor wouldn’t calm down. “That means nothing to me,” he declared. “I see only that a rude public nuisance has begun and the public nuisance demands legal atonement. I request the guards lay the gentleman in his crate and bring him along. Everyone else, please follow me!” The guards grabbed me. I attempted to offer resistance but they were much stronger than I and quickly stuck me into the crate and carried me out of the cemetery to the carriage. Everyone followed. The gentlemen climbed into their light carriages and the Red Riders sprang onto their bicycles. Even the gravedigger came with. The only thing I was happy about was that the Privy Councillor whose old fashioned funeral I had so disturbed was now all alone and lying abandoned. The stupid fellow must really be annoyed. My crate sat on a beam of wood and a fat policeman sat up on top. Thank God I could see a little through a knothole. We traveled back through the city at a sharp trot, and then we halted in front of the court building. “Room 41,” cried the Public Prosecutor. The guards carried my crate and me inside. Everyone else pushed hastily into the room. The
District Court Judge sat above between his lay magistrates. The Public Prosecutor stopped a long speech. He apologized for so suddenly interrupting the proceedings but some very urgent, pressing, really brooking no delay business needed to be dealt with. Then he told the entire course of events and what had happened. “The fellow claims to be dead,” he closed, “and is in possession of an authentic legal death certificate.” The District Court Judge let me get out of my crate. “Is there a doctor in the audience?” He asked. Three gentlemen came forward, an ordinary Doctor, a staff Doctor and a Psychiatrist, the Director of the State Lunatic Asylum. They examined me while holding handkerchiefs over their noses. They made it really short. “He is most certainly a corpse!” I had won. “I would like to charge the Public Prosecutor with violation of a corpse,” I said. “Let the accused stand here for the time being,” moved the Chairman. “Not any longer dear Sir,” I replied. “I am in a condition of— “ “Observe the dignity of the court,” he interrupted me. “I would like you to be fined.” “Permit you to— “ “Be quiet!” He yelled. “No,” I said. “I will not be quiet. As a Prussian I have the right to freely express myself in word, writing or image.”
He laughed. “We are not in Prussia any more! And besides, you are not a Prussian, you are a corpse!” “I’m not a Prussian any more?” “No.” “Then I am a dead Prussian.” “And a dead Prussian,” he trumped me. “absolutely has no civil rights. Even you must understand that!” I thought about it. He was right. I was vexed but quieted. “You stand here,” he began again, “accused of gross misconduct, resisting arrest and contempt of court. Do you have anything to say in your defense?” “I am a corpse,” I whimpered downcast. “That is no excuse,” asserted the Judge. “It would be nice if corpses and especially Prussian corpses could go unpunished for all misdemeanors. But that would be contrary to what is said about corpses, that they are quiet to the highest degree, well mannered and take great pains to be well behaved. You should, so to speak, be setting a shining example of virtue for all living citizens. As a former Prussian you should know that is the first duty! And that goes for all types of so-called corpses. This case is entirely unheard of, that a deceased individual has become indignant and even more, openly stands in front of me. Nothing like this has ever happened in all my long years of practice. Have you ever been convicted?” “Yes,” I stood straight. “Seventeen times. For contempt, for two fights, for spreading malicious pamphlets as well as for all the misdemeanors I stand here accused of!”
“You are back sliding,” he stressed. “It appears that you don’t want to remain quiet!” “I was always innocent,” I stammered. “Always innocent,” scorned the Judge. “I wonder, will you quit these misdemeanors? Will you learn from this?” I sealed my fate. “I don’t care about any of that at all. Leave me in peace! I am a corpse, and you are an idiot and all of you are idiots!” The Chairman raised his hand, but before he could say a word the Public Prosecutor stood up. “I propose the accused should be transferred to the Insane Asylum for six weeks and his state of mind observed.” The Psychiatrist, the Director of the asylum, came forward quickly and declared. “Under these circumstances the Insane Asylum must refuse to take the accused for six weeks. I can’t risk the danger of keeping him that long!” There was a small pause; then one of the jurors asked. “Yes, but what are we going to do with him?” “We are going to give him a fine,” said the Judge. “That won’t do you any good,” I remarked. “I am dead and don’t have any more money than when I was alive. I gave out my last coin for a proper burial! The Chief of the Red Riders made a contract with me.” “Then he must certainly not go free under any circumstances,” said the Public Prosecutor. “But the prison won’t take him any more than the insane asylum!” The Chairman objected. He was very inconsolable. I believed I had won when suddenly the unctuous pastor came to their assistance.
“I think I can make a suitable proposal gentlemen!” He said. “I believe it would be best if the deceased, the accused, were given a Christian burial.” “I don’t want a Christian burial!” I cried wildly. But the pastor paid no attention to me. “A very Christian and very civilized burial.” He went on, “I believe in this case it would put things right for the charity and honor of the court and for all decent thinking people. It would also to a certain extent cause this confused spirit of the accused to be punished and regret his actions. This is dangerous but if I am permitted to inter the deceased in this way I believe he will remain quiet, unmoving and won’t cause any more problems in the future.” “Very good! Very good!” The Chairman nodded, the Public Prosecutor nodded, both jurors nodded, everyone nodded. I screamed furiously and turned in my despair to the Chief Red Rider. He shrugged his shoulders. “I am very sorry,” he said. “We were only paid for two hours and they have run out. The Red Riders will do anything— That is our highest principle— But— only when we are paid!” No one sympathized with me. I defended myself the best I could but was quickly overpowered. They stuck me in a black coffin and carried me out. The pastor held a eulogy for me free, without pay. I don’t know what he said because I plugged my ears. Brute force has conquered. What is the use of turning over three times whenever a Public Prosecutor or District Court Judge walks past my grave?
By Hanns Heinz Ewers 1911 Translated by Joe E. Bandel 2008 Protected under United States Copyright Law as a derivative work of a foreign Author originally published prior to 1923
Will you deny, dear girl, that a being can exist that is-not human-not animal-a strange being created out of an absurd thought and a villainous desire? You know good, my gentle girl, good is the Law; good are all our rules and regulations; good is the great God that created these regulations, these rules, these laws. Good also is the man that values them completely and goes on his path in humility and patience in the true obedience of our good God. But there is another King that is good. He breaks the laws and the regulations. He creates-note this well-against nature. He is bad, is evil, and evil is the man that would be like him. He is a child of Satan. It is evil, very evil to go in and tamper with the eternal laws and with insolent hands rip them brazenly out of place. He is happy and wants to do evil because Satan, who is a tremendous King, helps him. He wants to create out of his prideful wish and will, wants to do things that shatter all the rules, that reverse natural law and stand it on its head.
But he needs to be very careful: It is only a lie and what he creates is always lunacy and illusion. It towers up and fills the heavens-but collapses at the last moment and falls back to bury the arrogant fool that thought it up. His Excellency Jacob Ten Brinken, Dr. med., Ord. Professor and Counselor created a strange maiden, created her-against nature. He created her entirely alone, though the thought belonged to another. This being, that was baptized and named Alraune, grew up and lived as a human child. Whatever she touched turned to gold, where ever she went became filled with wild laughter. But whoever felt her poisonous breath, screamed at the sins that stirred inside them and on the ground where her feet lightly tread grew the pale white flower of death. It struck dead anyone that was hers except Frank Braun, who first thought of her and gave her life. It’s not for you, golden sister, that I write this book. Your eyes are blue and kind. They know nothing of sins. Your days are like heavy blue glistening grapes dropping down onto the yielding carpet. My feet stride light and softly as I enter the sun glistening arcade of your gentle days. I don’t write this book for you my golden child, gracious sister of my dream filled days. But I write it for you, you wild sinful sister of my hot nights. When the shadows fall, when the cruel ocean devours the beautiful golden sun there flashes over the waves a swift poisonous green ray. That is Sins first quick laugh over the alarmed dying day.
That’s when you extend yourself over the still water, raise yourself high and proclaim your arrival in blighted yellows, reds and deep violet colors. Your sins whisper through the deep night and vomit your noxious breath wide throughout all the land. And you become aware of your hot touch. You widen your eyes, lift your perky young breasts as your nostrils quiver and you spread wide your fever moistened hands. Then the gentle civilized day splits away and falls to give birth to the serpent of the dark night. You extend yourself, sister, your wild soul, all shame, full of poison, and of torment and blood, and of kisses and desire, exultant outward in joyous abandon. I write about you, through all the heavens and hells- sister of my sins- I write this book for you!
This story is being translated sections at a time and posted in the Alraune blog at http://alraune.blogs.pagannation.com
This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
We've moved you to where you read on your other device.
Get the full title to continue listening from where you left off, or restart the preview.