My Curse

You made the light die. You made me a loathsome being. I denounced it all for you. I'm sorry, blood saint Jen, a victim of the barbaric ordeal.

"Hello, cursed one."

Is this a nightmare?

"Life will be hell, brother."

As if it weren't.

"I'm...dead."

My soul died.

My blood boiled.

Is this hell?

Isis, how you have lied.

Traitous mother.

Incovienced as always.

Lied about Set The Wicked.

Protector of Horus.

"Is this a nightmare?"

Yes, Jen, it is.

Welcome to earth,

Where everything good dies.

A man struggles to survive.

"Screw Grim. I like the world.

But not demons! Avalon it will be!"

We lost our sanity when the blood saint died.

Author's Note

This is mere quasi-lucidity. My soul died when the angels cried. My thoughts are to bless people not curse them, devil pranks aside. The ordeal is something sick witches and sorcerers go through. I want pagan-reform. I hate neopaganism/Wicca. I'm said to be the only living male Arch witch. Read my tales and you'll agree. Celebrating and telling what you believe in is important. RIP Jen Hawkins, victim of the world's hate. She's the only English women to rival Lara Croft and the governor's daughter!