While taking an active role in issues of equality and ecological preservation, I find myself repeating, ’I’m glad I’m old.’   That sentence should be enough nihilism for one person,  But no:  there’s something even worse.  My first (and last) foray into the dark side of witchcraft keeps circling my brain.

I must begin by stating I have devised an anti-doom plan: to spread love and live well.  But before it’s totally implemented, this diabolical discovery is worth repeating one more time.

In the early seventies as my interest in natural medicine began to form, I was at the local library and opened a barely read, very small book.  It was  written by a turn-of-the-twentieth-century British witch.  The acrid paper burned my nostrils and was almost too brittle to handle, but It contained a nice array of common herbal remedies.  So I took it home.

By that same evening, I came to the last chapter, which was dedicated to black magic.  The author described an ancient formula of herbs used to do away with enemies.  Once ingested, not a single symptom occurs until eighty-four days later, and then BOOM.  The unfortunate recipient drops dead.  And none of the potion that kills them is traceable.  I don’t remember a single one of the ingredients, but I can attest to the recipe as an efficient fantasy in the darkest of times.

Photo Credit: Michael Dali