Introduction + A Warning
“Mr. Koreander: Your books are safe. While you’re reading them, you get to become Tarzan or Robinson Crusoe.
Bastian: But that’s what I like about ‘em.
Mr. Koreander: Ahh, but afterwards you get to be a little boy again.
Bastian: Wh-what do you mean?
Mr. Koreander: Listen. Have you ever been Captain Nemo, trapped inside your submarine while the giant squid is attacking you?
Bastian: Yes.
Mr. Koreander: Weren’t you afraid you couldn’t escape?
Bastian: But it’s only a story.
Mr. Koreander: That’s what I’m talking about. The ones you read are safe.
Bastian: And that one isn’t? ”
I need to be honest with you, Witch.
I am forty years old, standing in a world that keeps closing its doors on people like me. And I’ll admit it: today I realized something I didn’t want to see. For years I’ve carried this dream that teaching and writing would be enough to sustain me, that I could live my life by ink and tea alone. But the truth that hit me this morning is sharper: that’s not the path I want to walk anymore.
So instead of chasing book deals or bending my voice for the market, I’ve chosen to unearth this, the book I once wrote with a dear friend, my bestie at the time (no, she’s not dead, just busy living her life). We built this Grimoire together out of late-night talks, shared hunger, and the need to speak truths we weren’t finding anywhere else.
I’m reworking it now, in this strange, raw place I find myself. And I’m giving it to you, free. If it stirs something in you, if it strengthens your craft, and you feel called to bless me in return, I’ll receive it with gratitude. But make no mistake: this was written for the working Witch, not the wandering tourist.
Why I Wrote This
I’ve always been a book lover. I covet books like others covet relics. When I was young, the only ones I could get my hands on were the glossy metaphysical paperbacks at the local bookstore. What I call New Wicca.
Those books cracked the door open, they gave language to experiences I was already having. But they also left holes. They polished Witchcraft until it gleamed like a mall trinket: all love and light and marshmallow fluff. They told half-truths. And when you deny half of what a Witch is, when you pretend we are only healers, only sweet, only palatable, you do violence to us.
Because the truth is: we are also shadowed. We are also dangerous. We curse and we heal. We seduce and we protect. We are not here to be PR-friendly for the masses. We are here to answer the Witch’s call, in all its brutal and ravishing faces.
This Grimoire was born because I wanted a book that would have told me all of that when I was starting out. A book that said: Yes, love is real. Yes, protection matters. Yes, curses exist, and you damn well better know how to deal with them. A book that didn’t coddle me, but challenged me.
How I Answered the Call
I didn’t choose Witchcraft. It’s in my body, my marrow, my everything.
As a child, I was haunted, literally. I saw the restless dead. I ran from my bedroom to the bathroom at night, terrified of what lurked in the corners. I stood at a crossroads once and saw fire become a woman, beautiful, terrible, irresistible, and I knew then that something had shifted in me forever.
Later came Tarot. Later came Wicca. Later still came the path I walk now, crooked, feral, sovereign. Witchcraft was never an option for me. It was an inevitability.
So when you read these pages, know this: I am not here to coddle you. I am not here to soothe fragile egos or to hand out daisy chains. I am here to make strong the Art that runs in your veins. To wake the Deviant inside you. To drag your resilience to the surface. To remind you of what you are capable of.
Are you ready?
