Witchvox Article

Author: Agona Darkeagle
Posted: August 12th. 2001
Times Viewed: 8,049

The most magickal thing that had ever happened to me was my first act of magick during freshman year in high school. I had wandered outside into the backyard after a vain attempt at getting some sleep. I stared at the silver twinkling starlight in the cold autumn night with frustrated tears in my eyes, not thinking, only wanting. I remember lifting my arms out to greet the Moon, the energy coursing through my body, and asking for Her protection. A simple chant and a simple little agate stone but with a great urgent desire.

You see, there was this girl who had always taken a liking to harassing me and it got worse when she became a drug addict. Every day after school, she'd smoke a joint of marijuana and then proceeded to prank call my house. And she'd repeat the process every fifteen minutes until about three o'clock in the morning. No exaggeration.

My mother, being raised in the Asian culture, had this strange little notion in her head that one does not drag out dirty laundry into public for it would be a disgrace to one's honor. Ergo, she was adamant against involving the police. The calls got worse. The girl began threatening my family, making ethnic slurs, and saying horrendous things like she'd decapitate my dog and leave her bloody head on the driveway. Granted, the girl probably had no idea what she was saying considering the fact that she'd taken so many drugs, but I still had to face the embarrassment of coming to school the next day and her knowing that my mother wasn't going to do anything about it.

So there I was, staring up at the twinkling field of starlight, doing something I had never done before: magick. I don't know how longed I stood there, gazing in awe at the bright Moon. I could've stayed there forever, entranced by the beauty of the night sky, if not for the chilly breeze that blew up my flimsy nightgown. With a shiver, I realized I had better get back inside.

Snuggled in the warmth of my blankets, I drifted asleep. A heavy footstep upstairs pulled me from my deep slumber into a groggy half-asleep state. "Funny, my mother is a small person and her footsteps are light, " I had thought dreamily to myself. Another heavy footstep and a low male voice said something. My eyes snapped open in alarm. I lived alone with my mother. Then who the heck . . . ?

Clutching my little agate that I had charged for protection, I opened the door a crack and peered out. And what did I see? None other than a tall man wearing a uniform, a badge, and a gun. I gawked in disbelief. I glanced at my agate stone and then back at the policeman. The agate stone and then the policeman. Agate, policeman.

"Gods, that worked fast!" I gasped, barely believing it.

My mother was speaking now. Most of their conversation was muffled but I caught enough of it to realize that my mother had actually done something she had absolutely refused to do before; she had swallowed her pride and called the cops. A few weeks later, the girl was nailed on harassment and a civil rights violation. And she never bothered us again.

That act of magick had the most impact on me because it was my very first. And that little act made me realized that magick WAS real and that the Goddess was more than alive and magick was definitely afoot. The following Mabon of that year, I formally initiated myself into the Craft of the Wise.

I realized shortly afterwards that I had a keen knack for protective magicks. I didn't know if it was the Libra in me or if it was because Lady Nemesis (the Greek Goddess of divine justice) had chosen to be my patroness or even if it was because protecting myself was a great desire for me. I only knew that I was better at than healing, for example. Although it could be because I had more practice at it.

For example, during my junior year in high school, there was this boy stalking me. Of course, he didn't realize he was stalking me. See, this boy was a bit mentally handicapped and I was told by the school social worker that he did not recognize "social cues". Then I learned that this boy had gotten kicked out of his old high school for the same reason. To make it worse, the boy bragged (in order to make his story sound more dramatic) that he had been accused of raping her.

"How can you let someone like that into a school!" I cried with indignation at my guidance counselor.

"This is a public school and therefore we have to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, " was the short, uncaring response I received.

There were months of being "followed", receiving unwanted compliments, and having his eyes glued to my buttocks (and I knew because everyone nudged me and whispered, "Hey, did you know he's staring at you? It's really scary.")

A couple days later, my friends realized that the boy's behavior really bothered me. They promised to keep him away. So at lunch, they refused to let him sit down. He whined that no one liked him and everyone agreed yet he still didn't leave. He circled the table like a vulture, interrupting various conversations by sticking his head between the two people conversing. Technically, it was not his fault since he couldn't read "social cues" but it was still creepy.

Aggravated, most of my friends decided to just get up and leave halfway through lunch. That left me, a friend Alex, and a friend's little brother, Brad.

I sat there in silence with a feeling of dread in my stomach as the boy sat down in a now empty seat. Alex and Brad were having a conversation, doing their best to ignore the boy. But the boy kept interrupting and being obnoxious.

"Stop interrupting, " snapped Alex after this went on for a while. "You're not a part of this conversation. I don't even like you! Can't you take a hint? Go away!"

"What's your problem, you (insert profanity here)?!" roared the boy.

"You, you purple-headed freakizoid!"

Brad let out a little laugh. The boy turned on him, face flushed with anger. He started yelling at little Brad. I couldn't stay quiet any longer. Brad was a friend's little brother. We were all very protective over him because well, he just seemed so little!

I stood up. "Don't yell at Brad, " I said quietly but firmly. "It's not nice to pick on someone littler than you and we didn't even want you here in the first place. We don't like you and we're not your friends, so just go away."

The boy got a malicious look on his face, jumped to his feet, and raised his arm as if he was going to hit me. I stared at him. I was in a little black dress in heels and barely 5'3". He was nearly six feet tall in combat boots and army pants with metal chains dangling all over. He did NOT just raise his arm at me, did he?!

A moment of silence passed and he slowly lowered his arm, as if he had thought better of it. But even so, my temper flared. My biggest peeve is when people pick on those they know (or think) are weaker than them. When I was younger, I jumped into a lot of fights that didn't even involve me for the sole purpose of evening the odds for the little guy. What can I say? I'm a Libra.

"You've got ten seconds to leave, " was all I said, glaring at the boy.

"I'm not leaving, " he snapped, folding his arms. Followed by a string of profanities.

I counted down loudly from ten to one. At the count one before I even realized what I was doing, I proceed to lift the lunch table, throw it aside, and throw a kick to the boy's groin.

He jumped back and started screaming vulgarities at me. I looked around for a teacher, wondering where they were when you actually needed one! I had my back turned while scanning the cafeteria for a teacher and then somehow I subconsciously realized that he was approaching me from behind and I was in danger. I whipped around and planted a much firmer kick to his groin. Hey! I'm little compared to him. That was as high as I could go without pulling a muscle. Besides, any man that likes to say he was accused of raping a girl is NOT a man.

The vice-principal ran in. "What the heck is going on?!"

"She kicked me in the groin!" he roared. "He's harassing me!" I countered.

The vice-principal grabbed the boy's arm and shoved him in the direction of the door. "Get out."

"But she's the one that-"

"I said GET OUT!"

Hmm. Little girl in nice dress: 1 point. Angry boy in army gear with purple hair: 0 points. The bit of sexist implication was there but it worked for me. I shrugged off my Libran guilt. He didn't deserve any pity. Even so, I had to do something. This couldn't go on.

I made a Witch's bottle to trap the negativity of the boy and let him stew in the negativism of his own creation. I invoked my patroness Nemesis to help and I buried the bottle off the property

. After that, he basically left me alone. There were one or two more incidents but then the boy disappeared. He dropped out of high school altogether. I wondered briefly if I should've been nicer since it technically wasn't the boy's fault seeing how he was mentally handicapped. But then I remembered how proudly he boasted of being accused of raping that girl and I shuddered. Better safe than sorry.

Anyway, those were two major incidents in my life in which magick had a great impact upon. And I'm glad the Goddess gave me the strength to handle them and the protection I needed. Oh, did I mention that I planned to major in Criminal Justice in college?

Agona Darkeagle

ABOUT...

Agona Darkeagle

Location: El Paso, Texas

Author's Profile: To learn more about Agona Darkeagle - Click HERE

Bio: Agona Darkeagle is a soon-to-be college freshman at a military school as a Criminal Justice major. This was her first essay for the adult section and she's a little embarrassed that it was about things that happened during high school. She has been blessed in this life with a strong sense of justice and the urge to protect those who can't protect themselves and hopes that one day, she'll be the one with the badge and the gun. Blessed be!

Other Articles: Agona Darkeagle has posted 4 additional articles- View them?

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