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The Witchin' Post

Reflections of Light and Shadow

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Crossroads

The Man with the Tao Tattoo

Street Light

I was thirteen the first time I met a spirit at a crossroad. I hadn’t gone there to meet him. I went to meet a friend, though I must not have waited long enough for the spirit’s liking, because later that night, he led me back there. Once there he told me stories, showed me things, and talked to me of magick. Later, when I would speak of him, and the things that happened that night, no one I had been with remembered him, or the things that happened the way I did. From the moment I stepped away from him, to this day, I can’t recall his name. It was very much as if, at some point in the night, I had fallen asleep, and experienced a dream no one else shared, but I had been awake, and I, and everyone present, had been stone cold sober.
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At the Crossroads

Crossroads

The house is quiet. Everyone is sleeping. It’s nearly the middle of the night, time to wake my lookout. I’ve been preparing for three days.

“Do you have everything you need?” he yawns and asks.

“Yes,” I answer.

We drive quietly to the crossroads. The intersection sits next to the cemetery of an old pioneer era church which is rumored to be haunted. Haunted by a witch. Both the church and the cemetery are a popular target for vandals. It’s fenced now, with a locked gate, and the neighbors watch it closely. This is the reason for my lookout. Where I’m working is public property, but I’d rather not be seen or questioned. I didn’t ask him to come, he insisted.

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