In our fantasies, we were virgins and witches—the most magickal forms of woman.
Wormwood And Satanism
Around 2:00 AM, not being interested in sleep, Maddalena and I went into the dark forest behind her home to drink absinthe. A green liqueur based on wormwood—the narcotic drug given to the crucified Christ in Matthew 27:34—absinthe was our favorite drug.
We knew drugs were wicked and evil—a plunge into horror— but we did not care. Naively believing in the chemical nature of memory and consciousness, we thought taking drugs would expand the radius of our minds.
‘Maddalena,’ I said, as I poured to the cold earth a libation to demons. ‘Let’s summon Satan tonight. ‘Called `the god of this world’ in II Corinthians 4:4, he should be accessible to us.’
‘An audience with `His Satanic Majesty’ would be interesting’ declared Maddalena, with a mischievous grin. ‘But to invoke the `arch-fiend’—or even one of his angels—we need an aborted human fetus. You know, `a victim too young to scream.’’
‘But we must try,’ I insisted. ‘On this night—a night perfect for magick—we must indulge in sin. Beautiful sin, ardent and naked!’
‘Well,’ said Maddalena, who was an expert on all things occult, ‘perhaps we could make a substitution. A severed head—twisted from a living animal—may work instead.’
‘Do you really think so?’ I asked.
‘The `entrails of murdered children’ are best,’ affirmed Maddalena, ‘but we can try.’.
***
Maddalena ran back to her bedroom to gather occult paraphernalia for our intended sorcery. As a mistress of the ‘Black Arts’, Maddalena had purchased and stolen a number of forbidden things over the years.
In a special leather bag—made from the skin of a black cat— she kept her ‘weapons of hell.’ Items in the bag—most of which were purchased from clandestine sources—included relics from a disturbed grave, dirt swept from a prison, powdered brain from an insane man, dried semen from a corpse (a discharge caused by rigor mortis), a hand-carved crystal (four inches in diameter), a small quantity of asafetida (a substance more popularly known as ‘devil’s dung’), sodomapples (an inedible fruit from the desert), and a variety of evil talismans.
In a second bag—this one made from pig leather—she kept her ‘poisons of heaven.’ Items in this second bag—loot stolen from Roman Catholic and Coptic churches—included three desecrated communion hosts, a degraded crucifix, ‘stygian muck’ from Ash Wednesday celebrations, the severed foreskin of a dead saint, a ‘bell that had been laid nine days on a grave,’ holy water polluted with urine, and a large Easter candle carved to resemble a certain tumescent organ.
In a wooden box—made from a real coffin—Maddalena kept her ‘literature’ or lore. Her collection included a ‘book of shadows,’ a ‘devil’s missal,’ two occult litanies, a Gascon ‘Black Mass of the Holy Spirit’ (a blasphemous inversion of a regular mass, it FORCED God to grant one wish), and a dark grimoire called the ‘Red Book of Apin.’
In a small casket made of lead (lead cannot be penetrated by good spirits), Maddalena kept special demonic pacts we had drawn up on our eighteenth birthdays. Written with menstrual blood in mirror writing on virgin parchment, in the pacts we renounced the occult junta called the ‘holy trinity,’ the perverted fable called the ‘Bible,’ and the stooges the churches called ‘saints.’
Finally, in a little cage made from stainless steel, Maddalena brought a black mouse we called Barabbas. Raised from birth by us, Barabbas had been fed a special diet consisting of dog’s flesh, unleavened and unsalted black bread, and unfermented grape juice.
Diabolic Preparations
Maddalena and I met in our special location—a deserted goat pasture near a ruined church, a small stream, and dead trees—and we immediately took off all of our clothing.
As every sorcerer knows, nude or ‘skyclad’ rituals—although magickally hazardous—are more powerful. For that reason, King David of ancient Israel danced naked and unashamed before the so-called ‘ark of the covenant.’
‘Satan is salax deus—the lecherous god,’ whispered Maddalena, as she removed her blouse and touched her breasts. ‘Hung like a quadruped—hungering for lewd virgins—they say he `fucks like a god.’’
‘Most males are boring,’ I giggled, as I stared at my friend’s body with indecent interest, ‘but perhaps a well-endowed demon—a lustful incubus from hell—could satisfy even me.’
‘I hope so,’ whispered Maddalena, half in jest. ‘In the shameless invocation we are going to use, you have to chant the heterosexual lines.’
The night air was cold—our young skin was covered with gooseflesh—and as I looked at Maddalena’s naked body I had to admire her courage. Even though cancer had eaten away her right breast, she was always a source of courage and joy for me.
‘I love you, Maddalena,’ I whispered, with lesbian suggestiveness. ‘More than life itself, I love you.’.
‘And I love you,’ she replied, as she softly touched my pale skin and blood-red pubic hair. ‘And remember, as long as we have each other, we will always be safe—always be cherished.’
Maddalena removed a stolen communion host from her bag and placed it in her mouth. Although the body of Christ is non-kosher—all animals that are not cloven-hoofed and cudchewing are non-kosher—we routinely ate such food.
‘Kiss me with the host in your mouth,’ she said. ‘According to legend—a perverse and occult legend—such a kiss keeps lovers eternally faithful.’
‘Then we must kiss,’ I whispered, as I pressed my little mouth to hers, ‘so that we can be forever.’
That special kiss—which tasted like wild fruit—would be our first. Destined also to be our last, it would be a drop of honey in a life of undiluted gall.
***
Holding a consecrated dagger in her left hand—the dagger was a black-handled weapon called an athame—Maddalena cut an equilateral triangle in the damp clay.
‘Although addicted to falsehood,’ whispered Maddalena, ‘Satan must speak the truth when he stands within a triangle.’ Inside the freshly cut figure, we poured a libation of liquor. Made from the blood of the grape, it was red and warm like fire.
‘Satan is a flesh eater,’ whispered Maddalena. ‘Flesh eaters are drawn to alcohol, just as vegetarians are addicted to sugar.’
Outside the triangle, Maddalena sprinkled a small quantity of bluish-green powder. Purchased from a corrupt mortician, the powder supposedly possessed occult power.
‘It is grave mold from an old woman who died a virgin,’ explained Maddalena. ‘Deflowered by maggots—the fauna of death—she gave to vermin what she denied to men.’
Next, we sprinkled some grave dust that my friend claimed had been stolen from the Arlington National Cemetery. The dust—scrapings from a mummified penis—allegedly came from the tomb of a world leader slain in 1963.
‘He was a lover of wine, women, and evil,’ whispered Maddalena, as she fingered the offering. ‘Called `ugly head,’ he was sacrificed by one whose name means `god’s power.’’
‘Some day we must also steal earth from the grave of Lincoln,’ I whispered, as I watched my friend. ‘A master felon, he caused more American deaths than Hitler, Tojo, and Mussolini combined.’
‘But Lincoln freed slaves,’ declared Maddalena. ‘One person died for every seven freed,’ I replied, flaunting my knowledge of history. ‘Those are the odds of a psychopath.’ ***
We giggled childishly, and then we drew a nine-foot circle of sorcery in a counterclockwise direction on the ground. Inside the circle, we made a pentagram.
‘Every eight years,’ whispered Maddalena, ‘the morning star—symbol of our Lord Lucifer—traces a five-pointed figure in the sky. It is a potent symbol.’
‘Jack the Ripper—the left-handed cannibal killer— understood that fact,’ I whispered. ‘The positions of his murdered victims, if plotted on a map of London, form a huge pentagram.’
Outside
the circle, my friend placed a powerful fetish. According to Maddalena, the fetish contained pubic hair stolen from a whore.
‘The vaginal pelts of sluts,’ she whispered, ‘are soiled with lust and crime. Taken from tainted wombs—wombs no man would marry—they are charged with occult power.’
On top of the fetish, we placed an old Bible stabbed by a dagger. Since the Bible is a symbol of violence—there are 375 references to blood in the Old and New Testaments—it is useful in chaos magick.
‘Notice the scriptures are open to the Samson story,’ whispered Maddalena. ‘Samson was the mass murderer who killed over 3000 men, women, and children.’
Next, Maddalena reached into a jar and scooped out some black ashes. She rubbed her eyes with the ashes and instructed me to do the same.
‘The ashes are the remains of an incinerated black cat,’ she whispered. ‘Eyes rubbed with these ashes can see spirits.’
Finally, we lit the desecrated Easter candle and placed it in the circle. According to ancient lore, a candle burns sulfurous blue when a spirit is present.
We Summon The Evil One
Our initial preparations completed, we entered the circle and knelt on the cold earth. Strange thoughts—the raw material of an epic—flooded my mind.
‘Now,’ declared Maddalena, ‘let us begin. And remember, there are two types of magick: that which is futile and that which is dangerous.’
‘Do you think we can really summon Satan?’ I asked.
‘We can try,’ replied Maddalena. ‘The rite is not always effective—sometimes only lower spirits and pre-human souls appear—but it may just work.’
My friend opened her most potent grimoire—a copy of ‘The Red Book of Apin’—and together we chanted sinister incantations. In effect, we pledged allegiance to the forces of darkness.
‘Our Father, who wert in heaven,’ we murmured, ‘hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in hell....’
As we prayed, Maddalena removed Barabbas from his cage. I, meanwhile, anointed the nine openings of my body with a special mixture of asafetida and dried corpse sperm. To apply this ‘witch’s ointment,’ I used the middle finger of my left hand.
‘O vile Lord,’ declared my friend, ‘thy name is Satan. Firebrand of freedom—prototype of all rebels—enemy of all totalitarian gods and all authoritarian creeds—we call upon thee this night. Summoned by the blood we shed, hear the magick of the word.’
‘Hail Satan!’ I intoned, reading my part of the ritual. ‘As lord of ecstasy, indulgence, and freedom—as the enemy of toil, abstinence, and conformity—as the foil to the tyrant Jehovah—we call upon thee this night!’
‘O Lord Satan,’ my friend cried, as she held Barabbas aloft, ‘bless our violations. O horned, hairy, and goatlike god— arcane master of the abyss below—feed us this night with thy power.’
‘O rapist god,’ I declared, ‘come to us. O despoiler of girls— O lustful and proud Lord—we are naked virgins—pure, unexplored forms—and we open for thee. Young, tense, and fragrant—perfumed like fruit—our snow-white thighs ache for thee.
Maddalena stabbed Barabbas with her black-handled athame, and she cut out his eyes, tongue, and heart. Then, she twisted off the animal’s head, placed the head in her mouth, and swallowed it whole.
‘O horned god,’ continued my friend, ‘a counter-god who craves blood—not vegetable offerings—come to us. O Prince of Darkness—O Beast of DCLXVI—come to us now. Come now, O outlaw god!’
‘Master of lecherous delights,’ I shouted, ‘we are wet with sin. Come, make us slimy with fornication!’
Something Wicked Comes To Us
After some more chanting—more sacrilege, blasphemy, and crime—something dramatic happened. About 3:30 AM, we heard the falsetto baying of stray dogs, and our candle began to burn with a deep blue flame.
‘Ad Maiorem Satanae Gloriam,’ shouted my friend. ‘To the Greater Glory of Satan!’
A cold wind began to blow in from the west. Curiously, the pages of the bible were blown open to Malachi 4:6, the curse that ends the Protestant Old Testament.
I looked into the wind, and I saw three lights in the black sky—three globular structures—that were shining and beautiful. The lights, which seemed to be watching us, were accompanied by a scent of plum blossoms. The odor was sweet—almost saccharine—in nature.
‘Lord Satan is coming,’ whispered my friend. ‘Cold and inhuman—`a beauty fresh from hell’—he comes to us.’
The intensity of the lights increased, and I began to feel pain in my head. I tried to cover my eyes with my hands, but the lights were so fierce, so luminous, and so paranormal that I could see them through my hands and closed eyelids.
‘Ad Maiorem Satanae Gloriam,’ shouted Maddalena, this time with some anxiety. ‘To the Greater Glory of Satan!’
The lights grew even brighter—still covering my eyes, I could see the actual bones in my hands—and then suddenly there was blackness.
‘What is happening?’ I whispered. ‘What is happening?’ ‘Lord Satan,’ replied my friend, who was now ashen-faced. ‘He is here. I sense his evil intelligence.’
We heard a strange sound—a rustling in the weeds—and then we saw a horde of rats, dragging some fantastic and shapeless object across the forest floor.
My friend screamed hysterically and began to run. I grabbed a weapon—Maddalena’s ceremonial dagger—and I followed her.
What We Saw
In a clearing, we unexpectedly encountered three human-like entities—a young woman, a younger man, and an elderly woman—floating above the ground, surrounded by auras of greenish light. The entities appeared solid and tri-dimensional.
The younger female was naked except for a loose skirt. Her breasts, which were defined, firm, and magnificent, seemed to leak milk and blood. A rosary—made from small human vertebrae—was suspended from her neck.
The male, who tended to remain somewhat apart, held a twisted cross in his left hand. Naked except for a garish loincloth and a brass nose ring, his penis jutted obscenely through his clothing.
The older female—whose face seemed to radiate contempt— was dressed in a transparent shroud. In her left hand, she was holding some sort of black scroll, an icon of a slain god, and an evil-looking totem.
Directly beneath the three entities, I could see four brownish stains. Oddly, each stain was anthropomorphic in shape. A diaphanous substance, which resembled silver threads, was strewn everywhere.
The Voices In Our Heads
Although the mouths of the evil-looking entities did not move, we seemed to hear their voices telepathically. I remember noticing that their communications, which had a strange and robotic quality about them, seemed to originate directly inside my head.
The voices, which could be distinguished clearly above a cacophony of other sounds, identified the beings before us as Mary, the Mother of God, Jesus, the son of God, and St. Anne, the mother of Mary and the grandmother of God.
‘Salutations,’ declared a cold and arrogant female voice. ‘Pregnant with revelations, we bring you the Third Fatima Secret.’
‘Indeed,’ said a coarsely masculine voice. ‘The pope, surrounded by his eunuch priests, will never tell.’
‘This is the secret....’ said a female voice. ‘`Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani,’ the anguish of Gethsemane, is the cry of everyman.’
‘But since man is not free,’ said the male voice, ‘man is not guilty.’
‘And so,’ said a second female voice, ‘Armageddon will be a giant party. All the human race—including the dead—are invited.’
Threats And Lies
Although frightened, I pointed the dagger at the entities. ‘Stay back!’ I shouted. ‘I will use this!’
‘All women can stab,’ said a male voice in my head. ‘But not all women can fight.’
‘Stay back!’ I repeated.
‘On your knees,’ said a female voice. ‘We come from Jehovah—the proud and distan
t god.’
‘Indeed,’ said a male voice. ‘Your ritual—a magickal provocation—brought us to this place.’
‘No!’ I declared. ‘You must be devils! With a satanic grimoire, we summoned you!’
‘I speak the truth,’ said a female voice. ‘I swear on the skull of God—I swear on the stretch marks of the Virgin Mother— we really do come from Jehovah.’
‘Yes,’ said a second female voice. ‘Do you not know, that blasphemy—cold and pure—is the quickest way to gain God’s attention?’
‘Exactly,’ added a male voice. ‘When a wizard called Aleister Crowley baptized a toad, christened it with the name of Jesus, and crucified it with rusty nails, God noticed immediately.
‘But Jehovah god—the biblical god—is supposedly an omniscient being who notices everything,’ I replied. ‘He is allegedly all-knowing.’
‘No god is omniscient,’ said a female voice. ‘That’s a lie for children and philosophers.’
‘Listen to the truth,’ said a second female voice. ‘In this reality of ours, gods are simply expert players who move grotesquely carved pieces in a game without rules.’
Utter Terror
There was a moment of silence, and Maddalena, who was terrified, fell to her knees and crossed herself. Moved to piety by the horror, she began to quote scripture.
‘If we are out of our minds,’ she mumbled from II Corinthians 5:13, ‘it is for the sake of God....’
I, meanwhile, was transfixed—rooted to the ground with fear—and simply stared at the entities in front of me. Curiously, I kept thinking about the famous Leonardo da Vinci painting, ‘Virgin and Child with St. Anne,’ and how these entities in no way resembled their Renaissance portraits.
The three creatures before us were, to say the least, strangely odd. Christian entities are supposed to be pure, pristine, sexless intelligences, but these were different. The Mary figure seemed far too sultry—wicked black eyes and sinfully healthy breasts—to be the Virgin Mother. The Jesus figure, who is supposed to be a gelding god—a pale and sterile deity emasculated by guilt and atonement—also seemed inappropriate. Weirdly terrifying—he was covered with deeply cut, snail-shaped scars—the Jesus figure had the eyes of a martyr, the mouth of a lecher, and the hands of a murderer. As for St. Anne, she seemed relatively normal for an old woman—although her dishevelled, iron-gray hair, liver spots, and two or three blackened teeth gave her a haggish appearance—but who ever heard of the ‘grandmother’ of god?
The Cannibal Within Page 2
