|03:37 pm - Bloody stupid, that's what!|
Four years ago, I had a woman chasing me. Those of you reading might know her. Might not. Depends on who you are.
Anyway, I wanted it to stop, and I wanted it to stop immediately.
I came up with the idea of using a binding spell, and in order to make it more powerful, I decided to use blood.
I was younger at the time, and not quite as aware of what I was doing.
You can see the basic text of the ritual here:
Take a minute to read it, because you won't understand the story if you don't.
Well, I went through the whole ritual, and the woman didn't bother me anymore, but my life went to shit very, very quickly afterwords, and I couldn't figure out why.
One day, I went back to the hawthorne tree I had used. It was no longer there, and only a stump remained. Now I understood why my life was such a mess: I'd bound myself to a tree that was suddenly no longer there. With my own blood.
Well, I wrote a poem about it that more or less describes my feelings about what happened.
I still use blood occasionally, but only when I really, really care about the work, and when I'm sure I'm doing the right thing.
In short, be freakin' careful with blood in ritual.