Witchcraft of the Sermon Sisters 1

By Babydicklover.

I never liked hot days, and the tenacity of this fall’s weather left me practically stranded in a blazing desert. There was a time when the fall season resembled orange and letting go. As a little girl, I remember walking through the spectrum of nostalgic colors. The falling leaves danced with the wind, and I happily joined them in a period of honest innocence. The memories of my grandmother are vague, but her stories hold significance in my soul to this day.

Halloween was my favorite time of the year, meaning I could see who I was. A time being spooky and creepy meant nothing, and I could embrace what I saw in the mirror. I wore an invisible veil that disguised me from showing my wicked truth. I was a snarky witch, but I didn’t know what that meant.

Throughout history, witches and warlocks have been some of the most oppressed groups because they were murdered against their will without evidence. It is a mere tragedy to be exiled, hanged, drowned, or burned at the stake for only living. The most ominous curse is living without true freedom. Without it, there isn’t a place to call home. But I’ve lost my roots due to the forbidden nature of practicing magic. I am a descendant of witches, even though historians denied their powers of witchcraft. I know it to be true in my hollow heart.

I wander through the streets of this superficial town without an identity. My grandmother taught me everything she knew of my ancestors during the Salem Witch Trials. Unfortunately, she passed away when I was only a small child, but I am confident she left out what happened. I have always been drawn to my grandmother’s stories of the powerful witches sacrificing everything, reverting to a more ancient tale of empowerment. I dreamed of casting spells to uplift this world of torrent and sin.

I remember the day like it was yesterday. My grandmother’s breath was cold, and my body chilled with aches. She passed away in her night of sleep, a death I fathom to be peaceful. Or I’ve convinced myself, so I can fall asleep at night. We were happy and lived in New Orleans, a place I could call home. But after everything, my family needed a fresh start from the grief. Now, we live in Arizona in the boring town of Mesa. I attended a bland school, and it was difficult to make friends because I was obsessed with anything to do with the occult. While this town held very few interesting spots I enjoyed, my favorite place was the “Estrange,” a bookstore for forbidden mysteries.

To cope with the loneliness, I lived in my imagination and only traveled through the pages of books, where my adventures came to fruition. I buried myself in the literature and drew to what I would never have. A place where I can make a difference in the world through the service of magic or knights. I was the heroine, and nobody could deport my desires.

The whole town was drenched in the spirit of ghostly madness, with Halloween being tomorrow. Even with my favorite holiday slowly approaching, I was still deemed a “freak” by most of the community. Another day meant another visit to my favorite spot in town. I walked into the quaint bookstore with the sound of a screaming woman alerting the bookstore owner.

“You know, I don’t think I will ever get over your doorbell chime.”

“Alice, it is so great to see you.”

“Ms. Clark, why would that be? I am here almost every day.”

“Because I have something special for you.”

Ms. Clark handed me a dusty old book with a very fragile binding.

“What is this? It looks so old. “‘Your Untold Truth.’ What is this?”

“A book unlike anything in this land. Books have the story written by someone else. Usually, you are doomed to finish their ending. This is a time to tell your story.”

Excitedly, I scrambled through the book only to be disappointed by blank, dusty pages.

I held it up dismissively, “This book only has blank pages.”

“What did you expect, sweetie? No one is writing this story for you. Could you take it home? I think it might serve you well.”

She placed a hand over her heart and held back tears.

Ms. Clark murmured, “Much as it served me in my time of being lost.”

“How will this help?”

“It is a bewitched compass to control your own journey. You have been stunned by books ever since I’ve known you. Take a chance on yourself.”

There was a passion in her eyes I’d never seen before. Usually, she was a mousy, shy owner who could barely make eye contact with anyone. The few that would visit her bookstore would walk all over her. But I trusted her more than anyone in this town.

I looked at the front page of the book with a confused look, “OK, we will see what happens.”

Her smile widened, “You may not understand at first, but that’s OK. Sometimes, we don’t know who we are.”

I looked at her sincerely, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, child.”

I left the store feeling like I’d never felt before. There was an eerie familiarity about everything. I looked back at the store again and could feel an intense sensation surrounding the store. A strange yet comforting nostalgia washed over me with the identity-less book in my hand. A whispering wind that felt friendly, I so distinctly recognize back in Massachusetts. I rushed home because it started to rain. I made it home and decided to explore this book.

I turned on a Halloween soundtrack I discovered on YouTube. I heard the lovemakings of Danny Elfman and other songs from iconic Halloween movies. As I lay on my bed, I inspected this book. As I opened it, I felt a warmth spread around me. The first page contained words that genuinely shocked me. Frantically, I flipped through the pages and read what it said. This didn’t make any sense at all. I could have sworn it was blank in the shop. It was about me, but how? What unusual properties did this book hold? I read my life up to that point until it stopped, and pages were blank again.

It magically wrote: “Your blackened heart will be your undoing. Find the light within. Our guidance is needed. Let us in, Alice Sermon.”

As I read the freshly written words, the lights went out, and heavy rainfall fell. Immediately, the dark sky emitted white lightning and thunder. Heavy, dark rain like you couldn’t imagine like judgment day was close. I could feel my house rumbling from the powerful storm. I had no idea where the storm came from, and I couldn’t contain my terror. It came out of nowhere. I was frightened as I felt a dark cloud surrounding my house.

I tried to leave my room, but the door wouldn’t budge. The candles in my room mysteriously lit on their own. I looked at my bed and saw the book bellowing a magical blue light with the sounds of demonic whispers. Everything in my mind told me to run, but my body felt possessed. I walked up to the book and held my hand out. The moment I touched the book, I blacked out.

I woke up in a quiet, dark forest.

I gasped and said, “Where the hell am I?”

I stood up and ran through the dark woods, unprotected by the silent chirpings of black gloaming. There wasn’t a single sound, and it felt almost alien. The dead silence was a catastrophe. Mindlessly diving further into the forest, I was startled by a young woman’s crying. Everything told me to keep walking ahead, but I couldn’t abandon her.

“Hey, are you OK?”

She screamed, “Who are you?”

“My name is Alice.”

She held out her cold hand, and a fire appeared.

“Oh my goodness, you are a witch?”

The girl looked at me confusingly, “Yes, I am. Why are you dressed like that?”

“What do you mean? Where are we? I just woke up in the forest.”

“We are in the ‘Hallow Forest.’ It is near my hometown, Salem Village.”

I felt a fragment of my fears slither through my body.

“Is it January 1692?”

“Yes, it is.”

“What is your name?”

“My name is Abigail Williams.”

In January 1692, a group of young women in Salem Village, Massachusetts, accused much of the town of witchcraft, leading to their ultimate ends. This conspiracy transpired way before the trials. Many religions believe the devil traveled through dark corridors and transferred his power to the hearts of vulnerable sicknesses. Examples have been documented of young women uttering words of blasphemy. They also were able to contort their bodies inhumanely. Most scholars have deemed this era as mass hysteria driven by religious fanatics wanting to control the sacred narrative.

I didn’t know how to return home but needed to be here. I was standing before the infamous Abigail Williams, the wench who accused innocent people of witchcraft. My eyes widened in disbelief. I couldn’t believe what was happening. But I know in my heart witchcraft is unvarnished.

Abigail looked at me suspiciously and sternly, “Where are you from? Your attire is unorthodox, to say the least.”

“I am not sure. I just woke up in this cold forest. I was running to find someone to help me.”

She squinted her eyes and surveyed my body, “You must also be a witch. Witches tend to blackout, especially when first exposed to their powers.”

“Maybe I am. I don’t know.”

“Come with me. You can stay in my residence until all is OK,” Abigail said. She kneeled by the roaring fire holding her hands together, “Ianuae residentiae invisibilis.”

The burning fire lightly flickered and slowly upheaved into a wooden door. Flames dissipated as the door appeared. Abigail held my hand, and we walked through. I looked behind us to see the door disappear into the souls of crows traveling through the night. I was in awe of Abigail’s powers. We materialized in the sight of her village, but there was something odd about the air. I had an ominous feeling that possessed me as I continued further.

Abigail showed me her place. It was a quaint house with sheer walls. We both sat on the floor, and she told me stories about the actual witches.

“Witches needed to do something. The rumors started in 1300 when the puritan leaders knew they were losing power. These puritans were making a mockery of witchcraft. It was a widespread hoax, and they knew people would believe them. They could never catch us, witches, because we had supernatural power; they couldn’t even fathom with their regimented, oppressive beliefs. They accused many innocent people who only were conducting themselves oddly. There was nothing more to it. Now, witches had to be even more careful. The original ‘Witches of Supreme’ who began dabbling in the dark arts heard of these uprisings,” she said. She got up and picked up an old, dusty alewife hat. “This is one of the original hats created by the witches to communicate. Unbeknownst to the world, a hidden bunker was used as their headquarters to intercommunicate. No one has ever seen it. Some say it is in the heavens or underground, close to the devil’s heart. Also, if a witch were in danger, she would travel to the bunker and alert the other witches of her whereabouts by placing an alewife hat next to her door. The puritans found it and decided to use it as a weapon rather than a symbol of safety and prosperity. Several of them made more of these hats to use as a mockery to witches. Now they are meaningless, and anyone who owns one will be sentenced to death. So the witches brewed up a plan more significant than themselves. They would pass down their teachings to those they named the ‘Apostles of Beatitude,’ ones who could keep the magic and purity alive.”

I was intrigued to learn about the authentic history of my upbringing, “And I am guessing you are one of these apostles?”

“You catch on fast for a neophyte. Yes, my family’s lineage goes back to the Supremes. This is my chance to do something to preserve the legend.”

“Is that why you plan on accusing most members of this place of witchcraft?”

“How did you know that was happening? I didn’t tell you anything about that.”

“I could sense it. Maybe I am a fortune teller.” I knew I had to lie because Abigail would be on to me, and with her power, who knows what she would do to me.

“You seem to have a vibrant gift different from any witch I’ve seen. Granted, I haven’t seen too many because we are nearly extinct.”

I didn’t look into her dead eyes, “I guess I have power.”

“I could teach you what I know since you already seem to surpass my ability when I first learned the teachings.”

“Wow. That would be amazing.”

“But you are correct. I am accusing the radical puritans in this town of witchcraft to end their tyranny. It is time for witches to come out of the dark and take our place on the thrones. Will you help me, sister?”

“Of course, I will.”

Followed by that, Abigail taught me everything she knew about witchcraft. I was able to perform simple enchantments like making a bird appear from ash or creating a fire from thin air. Abigail told me I was making genuine, significant progress. I helped her accuse other pseudo-witches in town with her friends. It was fun to pretend to be possessed by the devil and identify who were the witches in town.

The night was upon us. Abigail and I plunged deeper into the abysmal forest, ready to execute something groundbreaking, as were her words.

“Now, we are making the most vengeful sacrifice you could make. I was in love with John Proctor when I was young, but he rejected me horribly. He called me gross and said he would never date someone like me. Now, I am a grown woman with a power he couldn’t even imagine. He may have the physical ability of a successful farmer. Still, I own the metaphysical properties of a soul revived from the depths of purgatory.”

I was honestly confused by Abigail’s demeanor. She was very unhinged, more so than usual.

“What is the one thing we can do to attack John Proctor, Alice?”

“Accuse him of witchcraft?”

“Yes, but what else can we do to destroy his reputation?”

“Tell his wife he committed adultery?”

“No. The first thing I will do is shrink his genitals to the size of a child’s. That will ruin whatever masculine power he held.”

“Wow. That sounds exciting. Anything to get John back for rejecting you.”

We both drew the Star of David in the dirt, “OK, we have everything we need to enact this wretched curse. I can’t imagine how the town will react to John’s little tiny pee-pee. It will be an epic showdown, and he will be devastated.

She threw black ashes over the fire, which screeched like a dragon and converted the red flames to a bright emerald. She took out a small cauldron and levitated it over the fire. She poured water from the “Sterile Lake” into the cauldron. It started boiling and steaming.

“Anyone who drinks from this lake will be barren for eternity. It has properties to control the sexual prowess and size of the victim in the incantation.”

She then showered the cauldron with John’s blood.

“You have no idea how hard it was to get this.”

Lastly, she threw a very tiny acorn into the cauldron.

I asked her, “What do you need an acorn for?”

“It resembles the small size his penis will become after the spell is conjured.”

She started repeating the magic words I could understand now after she taught me the ancient language of witches, “Spirit of the gods below, witches under the grave, and ghosts of the Sermon Sisters. Convict John Proctor of the same evils that his arrogance lay, and transform his most sensitive, private areas to the blackness of his heart.”

Abigail’s eyes turned sinisterly white, and she began hissing like a snake as the shadow-like smoke filled her lungs. The cauldron ascended and exploded. The spell’s power was too much for her, and she flew and hit a tree. She was convulsing uncontrollably.

“Abigail, are you OK?”

Her body relaxed, and she returned to her usual self.

“Yes, I am fine. That is the most powerful spell I have ever used. I hope it doesn’t have dire ramifications. Magic always comes with a price.”

“Let me help you get home.”

Abigail was too weak to summon the corridor, so we flew with my broomstick. The night sky was at peace, but as we came closer to the village, I couldn’t help but feel worried for Abigail. Something wasn’t right. When we arrived, we heard Elizabeth Proctor scream like she had witnessed a fatal murder.

Abigail whispered, “I guess she discovered her husband’s shortcomings. Poor lady.”

Everyone in the village came out frantically. Elizabeth held her mouth over her face screaming hysterically.

One of the villagers approached her and asked, “What is it, Elizabeth?”

She could barely speak, “It’s John. He’s bewitched.”

“What happened?”

“He and I had been intimate since we were trying to make a child, but the longer we were doing it, the less I could feel of him. In the end, I couldn’t feel him at all. His head completely turned around his entire body, soaring in mid-air. I think he succumbed to the dark forces. He’s been influenced by Satan.”

“You think he has been practicing witchcraft?”

“I would never have thought he did, but I can’t get that disturbing image out of my head.”

John came out and screamed; he didn’t know what was happening.

He looked dismayed and shouted, “Elizabeth, how could you believe I would do something so horrible? This village is my family, and I would never betray god like that.”

She yelled at him back, “Get away from me, you demon. The devil is in you. I can feel it.”

“That is not true. Here, I will prove I have been framed and someone performed a spell on me.”

He took all his clothes off and was stark naked in front of the entire village of hundreds.

Everyone looked directly at his tiny package and began cackling like witches.

“Whoa, dude, having a tiny penis doesn’t absolve you of your crimes.”

“This only further proves our point. You clearly couldn’t handle the dark magic, and god punished you. He gave you the smallest penis in the world.”

“That is one very tiny penis. It is similar to my newborn’s. Yours can’t be half an inch long and even less thick than a child’s finger.”

“He thought having a little pebble for a dick would convince us otherwise.”

He was incredibly embarrassed, and we were both laughing at his fate.

“What are you all laughing at? A witch in this town has clearly hexed me.”

This made everyone laugh harder. People gave him the small penis gesture to accentuate how tiny he was.

“Buddy, most of us can’t even see it. Don’t blame witchcraft on your teeny weenie package. It is smaller than my pinky.”

“What a little acorn attached to his very unimpressive balls. No wonder poor Elizabeth could never get pregnant. He isn’t big enough to reach her G-spot.”

He looked at Elizabeth and said, “Tell them this wasn’t what it always looked like.”

She looked at everyone and said, “He speaks the truth. He used to have genitals that would drop your jaw from how large it was, I mean, you all may drop your jaw out of how tiny and micro it is, but you get the point.”

They all looked at her unconvincingly.

She pointed at her husband’s puny package and laughed loudly, “You all are crazy if you think I would be with someone with such a tiny penis. I mean, how pathetic do you think I am? I need to feel something in me, or so help me, the lord, our savior. I don’t do tiny cocks.”

He was so embarrassed and covered his little penis with both hands.

“Aww, he is so embarrassed by his pinky-like dicky wicky.”

“You only need a little finger to cover the entire thing.”

His wife grabbed his hands and held them behind his back, “Go on honey, show the village how foolish you look with your baby dick. If we were to have a kid, which I doubt now, he would be even bigger than you as a toddler. That would be so embarrassing for you,” she said. She looked straight at John’s little boy penis and said, “You aren’t even a man anymore with your inconceivable dicklette. What can you even do if your ding-a-ling is so damn tiny? Perhaps you can make me laugh because that acorn weenie is hilarious. It is like a crow’s small beak.

She flicked his little guy and giggled like a mad woman. His little dick began to harden at a full two inches.

This got the entire village laughing horrendously at him.

“Geez, he could have claimed it grew, but it hardly changed.”

“Since he may be a witch, he can cast a spell to make him hung.”

“Magic can only do so much and has its limits. I don’t think it can cast miracles.”

John ran away from the crowd and into the forest. Seeing John’s little penis bounce around as he scurried into the woods was funny.

Abigail and I couldn’t stop laughing, “You saw how tiny it was as he ran off. It bounced like crazy. I am sure he will miss how it swung. I don’t think we will be seeing little Johnny mess with us ever again.”

It was nightfall, and we were going to sleep. During the night, I woke up to use the restroom. As I returned to my room, I stumbled upon Abigail’s journal. I read it cover to cover and was spooked by her. I didn’t want to invade her privacy, but something in my heart told me to. I couldn’t believe it. She was accusing actual witches of being the only witch in the world. She wanted to hold onto the power only for herself. She was also suspicious of me and mentioned I was from the future. I came here through the means of a portal. The book I came with was a portal! I completely forgot about that book. It must be my way of going home.

“What do you think you are doing, Alice?”

Abigail stared at me with her cold eyes, and my soul shivered from the dark aura.

“I always knew there was something wrong with you, Abigail. You are a traitor to every witch.”

“You fell for everything so easily. You call yourself a witch?”

“I am a witch, more than you will ever be. Why did you even teach me if you wanted to expel witchcraft?”

“Because there is a familiarity with you like I have known you. Almost like a past life.”

“I don’t feel the same way, Abigail.”

“Quit calling me that. My real name is Artemis Sermon.”

That was my surname. It all made sense. I am a descendent of Artemis.

“I can see you solving the puzzle. Yes, we are family, so I thought you would be different. I wished we could rule the world together, but you only care about doing the right thing.”

“It’s over, Artemis. I am done helping you. What are you going to do now, kill me?

“Well, I am just getting started. Witches can’t hurt each other. It goes against the forbidden laws of magical nature. I have something more sinister for you?”

She screamed as loud as possible and ran outside. I chased her.

Everyone in Salem came outside, bewildered by Artemis’s cries.

“What is going on, Abigail?”

She started crying, “I’ve seen her do it. I’ve seen the dark powers she possesses. I saw what she did to John. She was jealous and would do anything to divorce him and Elizabeth. I was so scared because she threatened me. She said she would mutilate my body and feed my eyeballs to her wicked, black cat. After what she did tonight, I needed to stand up for myself.”

Everyone angrily looked at me, “You did that to John and ruined his marriage. You made his penis beyond miniature?”

I was at a loss for words but stood my ground, “No, Abigail is the one who did all of this. I had nothing to do with–

“Save it. Your time is over. I hope you enjoy burning in Satan’s solitary inferno.”

I screamed and ran as fast as I could into the forest. I heard them running after me, but they lost me because it was so dark. I started crying and just kept walking alone. I kept walking until I found a cave. I came across John.

“John, is that you?”

“Alice, what are you doing here?”

“Abigail accused me of witchcraft, so I left the village. A mob was chasing me.”

He looked frightened, “Are you a witch?”

“I am, but I am the good kind, I swear.”

“I believe you.”

I held out my hands and created a bright fire. He was still completely naked, and I couldn’t help but peek at his tiny penis. It was incredibly small, and it took everything in me not to laugh in his face. I mean, it was a micro-willy tucked away from the scary world.

“Abigail did this to me, didn’t she?

“She did it because you rejected her.”

“Whoa, now, she rejected me. I liked her when we were kids; I was pretty unattractive. One day, I magically was beautiful. Don’t tell anyone, but when I was a young adult, I made a magical journey to the ‘Oasis of Wonder.’ It is where you are granted one wish if your heart is pure. I desired to be handsome, and it was given. I didn’t fear my reflection anymore. It was an arduous journey, but after, Abigail wanted me. But there was something off about her. I could feel a dark presence when I was around her. I didn’t want to be with her because she treated me. It made her ugly and undesirable. I guess she wanted revenge.”

“I am so sorry. I had no idea. It was the ultimate revenge because your penis is despicable. It is the tiniest thing I have ever seen. It is like a little gherkin with two grapes for balls.”

He looked ashamed, “Yes, I know.”

I laughed and murmured, “Even though it is the funniest thing ever, I may be able to reverse it.”

“Yes, please. Do whatever you need.”

“We have to leave then.”

I saw him get up and see his little penis jiggle. We walked back to the place where the spell was mustered. It was so cute and humiliating for him. I couldn’t stop laughing and poking fun at his micropenis the whole trip there. What a little baby with a penis so tiny.

I asked him, “If this doesn’t work, what will you do?

“Then there is no place for me here anymore. I will be cast away because my wife won’t enjoy my little willy.”

“You are emphasizing your wife too much. No woman will want something so tiny near them. They deserve to feel something, not be tickled by a baby boy pretending to be a man.”

“You are right. I am praying to god this works.”

I recreated the spell but needed one more thing for this to work. I needed his semen.

“The only thing I need is a sample of your semen.”

“You want me to ejaculate my little penis?”

“It is the only thing that will work, so hurry up. Get that little shrimp hard.”

He grabbed his baby dick and tried to jack himself off. Nothing was happening.

After tugging on his cock, he finally gave up, “It’s not working. I don’t know why.”

“Thinking about how significantly minuscule and uproarious it is. We both know it’s the same size as a little pumpkin stem, but you don’t need to be embarrassed. There is nothing wrong with having a non-existent nub secreted inside your balls. I know it is hard for you, but you better do something, or it will always be that clit-like size. Do you want that?

He angrily said, “No, I don’t. You aren’t helping.”

“Don’t you dare give me a tone like that? You aren’t the one calling the shots here, tiny. I am. I could perform a spell so that you will have nothing between your legs. Let me remember the words, and your itty bitty problem will disappear–”

“No, I would rather have a pinky-toe pee-pee than nothing.”

I looked at his inappreciable crotch, “I mean, it’s basically nothing, but I get what you mean. This might help.”

I walked up to him and grabbed his little dicky with two fingers. I rubbed the little head with my pinky, much bigger than his soft, little penis. Seeing his little charmed tee-tee react in such a scared and frightful way was endearing. I could tell his newborn penis was resistant to my touch. I didn’t realize the spell also made his libido drop to zero. He really was a silly caricature of a man. I could barely see his cocklette because it hid from me in his forest of pubes. I felt more lost trying to find it than in the actual woods.

“Do you have a map or something?”

“No, why?”

“I am having trouble finding your inverted, pitiful penis. It keeps hiding from me. Come on out, little guy. Don’t be shy. Mommy’s not going to hurt you.”

I found it curled inside him, with little to no breathing room.

“Ahh. There is mister tiny. He is just so cute. Your pubes are getting in the way. It’s drowning in it.”

I repeated a spell, and all his pubic hair was naturally shaved off.

“There we go, now we can actually see it. I can see what I am working with. I think this will help.”

I removed my top and showed him my savory breasts. Since I could easily find it, I grabbed his tiny, hairless one-inch penis. I grabbed it with two fingers and slowly stroked his shaftless wee-wee. It was challenging, but I continued until he was boned up at 1.8 inches. I started giggling at how little the undersized little Nicky grew.

“Finally, he is awake. Let’s go. Come on, baby penis, let’s see you squirt your little juices for mommy.”

I enjoyed watching him struggle to achieve an orgasm since it was almost impossible after his spell. His little head was wet, and I could see the fresh pre-cum drooling out of his meager willy. I quickly put the entire thing in my mouth to taste his revived dicklette. I swirled it in my mouth and felt the warm sap dripping down my throat. I never thought a man would so turn me on without a penis. I felt like a lesbian then and imagined making love to another woman. It felt more appropriate to identify that way because of how mouthwatering his pencil-like clitty was. I felt powerful because I had the upper hand over this desperate sissy.

I whispered to him, “This is the smallest penis I have ever seen. I can’t believe I am making love to a man without a penis. You must be so embarrassed knowing a woman younger and smaller than you is dominating your little millimeter monster. It’s like a baby’s thumb, only smaller. You have no control in this situation but to clamber to my every word, obey what you are told, and submit as the dickless creature you are.”

That put him over the top, and he began screaming. His little guy was erupting volcanoes of hot semen. I was laughing as his little penis impressed me with his enormous load. I collected his yummy seed and dropped his semen in the spell. A puff of magical rainbow smoke covered him, and his micropenis became a glamorous, giant dick. This is what it was before.

He looked down and smiled, “I am back. My penis is the impressive size it was. Thank you so much, Alice.”

He hugged me.

“Now, go back to your wife, and become a father as you’ve always wanted. Could you tell everyone Abigail Williams is to blame? Her real name is Artemis. A journal in her house describes in detail what she did. Could you find it and clear your name? She should be punished, not you.”

I heard someone step on a twig on the ground, “Is that so?”

It was Artemis, but her natural form appeared. She had black eyes, and her skin was sickly pale. She had black veins around her entire body like a human manifestation of a raven. Her voice felt monotone but eerily demonic.

“How did you know where we were?”

“Once a witch casts her spell, she can feel the vibrations of the land. I could feel you recreating another spell.”

Artemis looked at John’s giant cock, “I see you learned how to reverse the spell I created.”

“It wasn’t hard. You could barely handle it.”

She zoomed past me and grabbed John by the neck, “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“No, John. Artemis, stop!”

I felt a warmth from behind me, and a magical aura filled the forest. At the same time, John disappeared, and Artemis lay on the dirty ground in agonizing pain.

I looked behind me to see what summoned this spell. It was my grandmother.

“Grandma! What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“I died, but I have always watched over you. You seemed so lost without me, so Ms. Clark gave you that book so that you could write your own story. I have known her for some time now. For some, they write their own story, but your powers serve as a portal. You changed fate as we know it. I sent John back, where he will clear his name, and Artemis will be rightfully executed for her repulsive character. While she may survive, I took her powers away. She is the unfortunate omen of our family, and I tried traveling back in time to rewrite our family’s misfortunes, but I wasn’t strong enough. Not like you. You found yourself here, and all will be changed. Artemis stigmatized the dark arts, so people decided not to practice them to save themselves. I don’t blame them, but it makes me sad.”

I asked her, “How are you using your powers here? You never used them when you were alive.”

“Same goes for you. Coming back to this place resurrects the power we lost. Something about this place haunts me in a good way.”

“How did you pass away? Your death was unexplained.”

“I tried to make the journey through time, and it hurt my heart too much.”

“I am really sorry.”

Artemis woke up and howled, “I will not be defeated. I am the greatest witch of all time.”

“It saddens me that you are one of us, a Sermon sister. The Sermon sisters were the first witches to pass down their teachings of scientific magic. You tried to erase our existence. But it’s over. Your powers are gone.”

She squealed, “I will kill you both.”

I looked at her, “Go ahead and try.”

My grandma looked at her with sorrow, “Honey, there is always a price when it comes to magic. The price you pay, after what you did to John, is you will never experience an orgasm ever again. That is what you deserve.”

Artemis looked at the starless sky and screamed, echoing through the entire forest. The rain started to fall, followed by violent thunder.

“Come, Alice, we need to find safety. I know just the place. Her eyes glowed a dark red, and an elaborate spiral staircase appeared underneath the ground. We reached the bottom and walked through a dark tunnel. The walls were filled with screaming spirits.

“This is the ‘Hallway of Between.’ This is where evil witches go. It’s a place of everlasting stillness where they are stuck with time, unable to go anywhere. You can hear their cries of forgiveness seeping through the walls.”

“Wow. What a grim fate.”

“Don’t ever fall to the darkness.”

We reached what looked like an ancient catacomb. It was an underground cemetery consisting of a subterranean gallery with recesses for tombs meticulously constructed by the first witches. Now I know where they were inspired by the Catacombs of Paris.

“This used to be the headquarters, right?”

“That is correct. It was actually called the ‘Interconnected Plane,’ a place for witches from all over the world to gather. It was also a haven if witches were ever in trouble. Now it is used as the catacombs for good witches murdered to preserve their spirit in the afterlife. It is called ‘The Catacombs of Mágissa.'”

We walked to the heart of the catacombs.

I shrieked, “My book. It’s here.”

“This is where we will part ways.”

She held my hand and hugged me.

“I will see you one day. I love you so much. Call to the book and harness your power.”

I saw my grandmother disappear into bioluminescent butterflies.

“Bye, grandma. I will see you one day.”

I held the book and closed my eyes. Once I opened my eyes, I was back in my room. I was in my old room in New Orleans.

Grandma walked into my room, “Hello Alice, I told you I would see you again. Because you made the journey and changed history, I never tried myself, so I lived. Now, the world embraces witchcraft and wizardry. We don’t have to hide who we are anymore.”

I looked outside and could see people openly practicing magic. It was a wonderful moment, and I couldn’t wait to try magic myself properly. I saw the book on my desk, and it told my journey in the Hallow Forest. We were no longer oppressed and could have our freedom. Even though Artemis was awful and wanted to destroy us, she taught me a valuable spell. If a man ever messes with me, I know the perfect spell.


Read Part 2 Here.


*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, formatting errors, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed (That’s the author’s job). The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story was submitted directly to this website.

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