A Curse.

I’m not a very witchy person. I want to be, but I find it difficult to let myself go long enough to do adequate spellcraft. Also, since people make fun of my spells for rhyming (I can’t help it; I am as much a poet as a novelist) I don’t tend to do things in a public venue. This is part of the reason why I’ve been working with Hekate. Past-self was witchy. Past-self was down with intuition and spells. I wanted to work with Hekate to get out of this rut to, at least, be amenable to utilizing spells if the need should arise. This is why I’ve been writing my Magical Cure series: my past traumas have been doing a good job of holding me back (amongst other things).

This week, I got sick to death of the Sister’s living situation. I’ll give some back story here since I don’t really discuss real life events too much. In March, she willingly allowed a couple and their newborn to move into her apartment for three months. The verbal agreement was specific: they could live on her dime for those three months, as they were facing homelessness. They had three months to find a living situation that wasn’t taking over the Sister’s living room and home. They still live here, nine months later. She has been slowly going insane at the hands of these manipulative, disgusting, filthy assholes who are abusing her generosity and kindness. They have sent her to the hospital once. They threatened to have her Backer Acted during a manic phase because they were “worried” she “would hurt” herself or someone. (Of all the times to be worried about that, a manic phase is not one of them.) Over the months they have driven her slowly insane and abused her mentally and emotionally.

Now a month ago, this was supposed to be over. She had given them a letter in September or October, stating implicitly that they had to be out November 1. This letter was to get housing and welfare to aid them. However, these abusive fucktards told their case workers that they had a legal lease with the Sister’s landlord and so, the letter was ignored by the case worker. I believe that the case worker said something like, “This isn’t a letter from your landlord so it is a moot point.” They believe that they have the law on their side. However, they have no legal lease, are house guests that have overstayed their welcome. And as I’ve said, they have abused her mentally and emotionally. So, the Sister gave them until December 1 and then, she unleashes her two best friends (myself and someone else) onto these two. The Sister has been purposely holding the two of us back, knowing we will throw out their things and possibly be arrested. Neither one of us give a shit. Those assholes need to go.

After the Sister’s break down last Friday, I decided that I was done. I am unable to do anything to these people physically, mentally, verbally, or emotionally because the Sister has given them their stay of execution. However, that doesn’t mean that I can’t do things magically. After I watched the look on the male house guest’s face when I came over to fix whatever he did to her last Friday, I was done. MOTHERFUCKING DONE. As people seemed interested to see what I came up with, here’s my post regarding the curse I performed on the two people who are MENTALLY AND EMOTIONALLY ABUSING SOMEONE WITH BIPOLAR DISORDER because they can.

First, I started with a general execration rite. Normally, I don’t do physical execrations unless I’m celebrating the New Year (Wep Ronpet) or I’m in a pretty dire situation. Most of my execration rituals end up being visualizations in my head. As much as I’ve done that regarding these two assholes, I knew that I couldn’t just leave it as it was. I had to do something physically to focus my rage and anger. Too often when I’m thinking about these people, I get so hopping mad that I start ranting and raving. So, I needed to focus that fuel to add to my curse. The following pictures are the execration, itself.

I took a red crayon and scribbled their names on it. I then placed all the things I think of when I think of them, such as “filthy,” “liars,” “abusers,” etc. I then scribbled the fuck out of all of that with glittery crayons.

I then stomped on the paper with both feet, as well as jumped on it. I let my son do this as well since he thought it was a game. I envisioned stomping on their faces while I did this.

I will admit that when I do execrations, the amount of release are completely palpable. I don’t do them as often as I think I should, but this is because I never really know exactly how I want things to flow when I do them. Also, honestly, doing them in my head isn’t nearly as stress-relieving as physical representations. It’s really no wonder that the ancient Egyptians did this. If you ever, ever have a moment where you are so stressed out and angry, then I highly recommend doing this. If for no other reason than for the next two images, below.

After stomping, I crumbled it up into a ball, grabbed my butcher knife, and stabbed away. I made sure the knife went through their names the most. After stabbing, I cut and slit into the paper with much glee.

Afterwards, I set the thing on fire. It went up in flames within two minutes. This was all that was left of my execration.

People think about hitting things or punching pillows or screaming along to loud music to make themselves feel better. I’ll admit that I do this stuff, too. After a long hard day at work, I’ll blast some really angry, loud music and just let it fill up my angry soul. The thing is that sometimes, you just need to do the physical. Sometimes, you just need to have a representation of what is bothering you. A friend of mine told me that she was getting pissed off with the area that she lives in and so, execrated the fuck out of a map of her town. I mean, yeah, it doesn’t fix the problem at large. However, it sure as fuck relieves some stress.

Since I was doing more than just execrating, my next step was to make some representations. I was putting all of this stuff in a canning jar I had lying around for just such a purpose. (You will never know how often I debate cursing something or someone and never actually bother to do it.) I drew a really awful set of people pictures. I mean, it’s really no wonder I’m not an artist as you can tell by the picture. On top of coloring in their hair color appropriately and writing their names on their chests, I also wrote out what I wanted to see happen to them. In this aspect, I worked with heka. I was very mindful of my words and how much rage I had inside of me. Shunting that rage into my marker, I wrote out exactly what I wanted to see happen to them. Oh, and by the way? Normally, if I take pictures of my execrations, I will blur out the names I may be execrating. In this case, I am not because I don’t care if anyone knows that these two people are ABUSIVE TOWARDS PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH DISORDERS. So, curse away if you see fit.

That reads, “May your lives be ruined. May you only feel the pain you cause others. May you know the abuse you have thrown out by 3, by 6, and by 9. MAY YOUR LIVES BE SUFFERING.” I chose 3, 6, and 9 at Papa Legba’s behest.

I tucked those little beauties into the jar I had designated. Then, I set about pulling out some very important ingredients.

The ingredients were chili pepper, cayenne pepper, nails, may apple, table pepper, screws, spit, urine, vinegar, scratched up money, hot sauce, graveyard dirt, and sour/rotting grapes.

With each aspect of the ingredients I chose, I went with symbolism. Part of heka in ancient Egyptian practices is symbolism, but a lot of it is also intent. With each aspect that I tossed in there, I thought of what it would represent. I chose my urine and spit because these are things I would like to be able to do to these people. They are less than, to me. I threw nails and screws in there, two-fold. I want them to be “screwed,” but I also want them to know nothing but pain until they atone for their sins against my best friend. This will probably never happen as they believe that they are “right” to be abusive. So the sharp implements were to feeling the prickings of the pain that they will get back to them. I added may apple because I read somewhere that it gives power in poppets and representations. I chose table pepper, chili pepper, cayenne pepper, and hot sauce because I want them to be in constant discomfort. I want their lives to be painful in the extreme, not just in the physical sense, but in the mental sense as well. I chose vinegar because I want their lives to sour. I scratched up a coin and threw it in there because I want them to suffer monetarily, as well. The grapes were a last minute touch that I added so that all their food tastes rotten in their mouths, that it always goes bad, and so that they are always singing praises to their sour grapes. Finally, I added graveyard dirt from both the Bawon and Manman’s graves to seal the deal.

This is what it looked like before I sealed the jar. It was pretty fucking disgusting: everything I want their lives to be.

I placed the jar on Hekate’s altar since, you know, that’s her thing. I placed black tourmaline on either side to keep the negativity in the jar. I also added hematite. (Dunno why.) I started burning a black candle on top to seal the shit in there.

So the black candle I chose to seal in the curse was actually a waxless candle. I had to actually hold the thing above the jar until it was covered to my satisfaction.

I had a hard time deciding what to do with it. Initially, I had figured I would bury it at a crossroads. Papa Legba was urging me, but I kind of dithered. While I’m not normally a very intuitive person about this kind of thing that’s where the crossroads idea came from. When I asked on Tumblr to see what others did with curse jars/bottles, no one responded. I figured the Universe (Papa Legba and Hekate, as well) were trying to tell me that my first feeling was the best way to go about it. However, after a quick doubt, I ended up looking up hoodoo ideas for some of the darker workings a conjure person can or will do. Most of the suggestions didn’t resonate with me: they were all about throwing the jar away from you. While I would have preferred to bury this bad boy beneath these assholes’ front steps, per hoodoo, they’re soon to be homeless, so… That’s not feasible. I had to figure something else out.

Nearly finished product.

After talking with Devo about it, I realized that my first instinct was pretty fucking spot-on. She asked me if I wanted it to be a double whammy all at once or a long drawn out curse. I told her that long and drawn out was the way to go, which is why I ended up going with the burial. Think of it in terms of symbolism: you throw a grenade to get a sudden, quick effect. You bury a land mine to take out as many as possible and be quiet about it. I didn’t want a sudden, quick and vicious attack on these two abusive fuckers. I want it long, drawn out, and utterly fucking painful. The Sister can demand emotional currency from them with her curses; I will take everything else on her behalf.

I don’t think you can see it so well, but there’s a veve in there.

Mait’ Carrefour, payment.

Before I left to carry out the burial, Kalfu showed up in my head. Now, I’ve had workings with Mait’ Carrefour before. He is the Petro aspect of Papa Legba. He is also the “grand master” of charms and sorceries. In voodoo, a hungan who travaillant des deux mains (“working with both hands”) is pretty much frowned upon. Sorcery in this way isn’t very well received, although it is practiced. It’s probably a good thing I’m not a hungan or mambo because I have no problems cursing people. Since Kalfu works with “evil loa,” if he shows up, you better fucking listen. And I knew that, with what I was doing, it was his domain that I was encroaching in, not Papa Legba. This was sorcery, plain and simple. This was me, travaillant des deux mains, plain and simple. And I was fine with that.

You see, I’ve worked with this lwa before. He’s as much admitted that it was he who ruined my job last year because Papa Legba was “too patient.” While I didn’t appreciate what he came in and did, it was necessary. There was absolutely nothing I would have done to do what either aspect of Legba wanted. So, Carrefour took care of it for the both of us. We’ve discussed this and he leaves me be. As long as I honor him now and again, with little bits and pieces, he’s fine. He demanded payment for last night’s late night burial. He wanted a shot of rum. He understood gunpowder was out of the question (Kalfu is saluted with rum laced with gunpowder), so he took the Kraken rum instead.

So, endeth my cursing spree.

19 thoughts on “A Curse.

  1. *insert a low slow chuckle here- anyone who knows me can tell you just how sinister that sound is when I make it*

    This is why I can never be anything but gray. There are times- and given what I’ve been reading for the last, oh wow, year already? This was probably one of them.

    • I’m so looking forward to the first. I will be over there in a hazmat suit cleaning that place. And finally, she says I can say everything I’ve been holding back. XD


    My last “person” execration worked out phenomenally, in terms of desired goals achieved and steam released. I wish yours all the success in the world(s). And good choice on the long and drawn-out curse. Slow and steady does indeed win the race.

    • I get the feeling this one is already taken effect. The Sister can see her particular emotional currency being pulled from the two of them. Considering that they will be facing homelessness, a specific situation I desired, I think it’s already working. XD

      Me and the tortoise? Total besties.

  3. If ever 2 people needed to be cursed, its those people who have abused the kindness, hospitality & generousity of your sister’s heart. Unfortunely, these people have no feelings for anyone, except themselves.
    Let those curses fly!

  4. You are the best Sister evar! Update of my own, my therapist Jane is filing a complaint against them to the Protection of Disabled Persons Agency, basically for abusing someone with a mental illness. If I have to take them to court over everything (possible eviction) that would make it TWICE they’ve had to do that, which means that there is no way anyone will ever rent to them, not with TWO evictions on their record. Homelessness abound!

    And You and the Other can go hog wild on their asses December 1st. I’ll just sit back and laugh my pretty little head off.


  5. Pingback: Formal Execration: The Learning Curve « The Twisted Rope

  6. Pingback: Update on Witchery. | Mystical Bewilderment

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