Conjuring chaos, p.1
Conjuring Chaos, page 1
part #1 of Convergance of Chaos Series
CONJURING CHAOS
A Wizard's Grimoire
Written by
James T. McElwin
Runic Publishing
2024
Copyright © 2024 by Runic Publishing
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 979-8-9895854-0-3
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests contact Runic Publishing c/o James T. McElwin. P.O. Box 240754, Memphis, TN 38124.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Author: James T. McElwin
Book Cover: AI-Generated Art 10/2023. Edited and combined with original art by J.R.S.
First edition 2024
Acknowledgments
My eternal gratitude to my wife,
who inspired me.
And many thanks to my son,
who motivated me.
Table of Contents
Chapter I
The Beginning
Chapter II
The Religion of Man
Chapter III
Blood, Gods, and Magick
Chapter IV
Mirror, Mirror
Chapter V
The Sorceress
Chapter VI
Practical Magick
Chapter VII
A Bit of Hoodoo
Chapter VIII
Forest Magick
Chapter IX
Chaos Magick
Chapter X
What′s a Little Chaos Among Friends?
Chapter XI
Chaos Magick and
The Sleeping Beauty Spell
Chapter XII
Love Magick
Chapter XIII
Sex, Magick, and Aphrodite
Chapter XIV
Witches in Dreamland
Introduction
This book began as a journal. A grimoire of sorts, if you will. I created it from my experiences, dreams, visions, and imagined fantasies. It eventually evolved into a fantasy novel based on facts and events from the past and the present. As a wise man once said, all legend is based upon truth. One should not fritter away energy on deciphering which is which. That would take away from the tale I will tell.
In telling this story, magick appears in my text. It differentiates between the illusion of sleight-of-hand stage magic and the universal magick that exists as I have experienced it. Uranus exists even if one cannot see it. Moving something with one′s mind is possible, even if one has not achieved it. The average, mundane human simply has not attained this for themselves, and anyone who may have accomplished it would dare not tell it. I would not‒simply from self-preservation. One could possibly be detained, studied, and dissected for the sake of science. Or, burned at the stake.
The text also contains several magick spells, chants, and incantations. Some of them came from various open sources. Others I borrowed and reimagined to suit my needs. Some I created within my subconscious or were provided by the spirits and deities I communed with.
One should be forewarned, however, and be wary of the consequences of these spells and incantations. They do not come with warning labels. The occultist should be cautious and not read these spells aloud. It is best if they are read silently to oneself. Otherwise, one risks inadvertently waking the spirits, deities, or the occasional demon without being within the practitioner′s protected circle, or sphere. There may be repercussions.
Additionally, I suggest the conjuror study thoroughly and be aware of what one might conjure. Never conjure what cannot be controlled. Don′t raise any more Demons than one can lay down. It can, and certainly will, bite one in the ass.
Furthermore, I ask forgiveness ahead of time for the sexual content of this story. I attempted to avoid it but to no avail. These carnal adventures were so interwoven throughout my magickal experiences such that it was unavoidable. My journey into the Occult, along with my sexual escapades and love affairs, were so terribly connected that they could not be unraveled. It continues to be so. Were it not for the intricate magick of sex, none of us would be here. Were it not for the joy of sex, human life would be a bit bland, like a juicy ribeye without seasoning. It cannot be ignored as it connects our mortality to our spirituality. I have found both myself and my partners calling for a god or goddess repeatedly and involuntarily during our frequent sexual interludes.
The few times I include these romantic episodes, it is for emphasis. It illustrates the intensity with which the mind, body, and spirit can feel and connect‒particularly with another human being. There is very little in our human existence as magickal, fulfilling, and calming as a soulful orgasm with the person, or persons, with whom you share a bond of love and trust.
I will warn you, the reader, now. If you are sexually repressed or have any hang-ups regarding sex or religion, put this book down and walk away. If you were looking for the children’s section, this isn’t it. You have been warned. Otherwise, enjoy the story and the Magick. Enjoy just living.
Chapter I
The Beginning
Normal is an illusion.
What is normal for the spider, is chaos for the fly.
Morticia Addams
There was always a storm these days. A fierce tempest roared and howled outside now, rattling the windows as if some hellish demon were beating them trying to get in.
It seemed that as soon as we squelched one hurricane, another would pop up, wreaking havoc, death, and destruction. I blamed the Demons, but that wasn′t terribly relevant. Someone had to call them up. Otherwise, they usually slept. Some malevolent witch, wizard, or random fool had to invoke them. The few Demons that I kept slumbered within my subconscious‒in shackles in a vault, behind a stone wall. I intended to keep them that way. Except for a lesser Demon or two, of course. Just in case.
Today, I was waiting patiently for the ladies to arrive so that we could discuss our next move. I had gotten us a quiet corner table at the finest restaurant in the best part of the French Quarter. It was one of those exclusive places where you have to make a reservation., and one of the few that remained open during a small hurricane. I wasn′t concerned, however. These undersized storms were easy to contain. It was the coming storm that had me slightly on edge.
"Would you care for some more wine, sir?" The waitress was hovering, unintentionally pestering me as I waited.
"Could you leave the bottle, please? That would be fine." Her eyes met mine for an instant, giving me a brief glimpse into her troubled soul.
She was past middle-aged, and I sensed she had no one and was pitifully alone. She was one of those melancholy souls whose work was their life, and that′s all she had. However, I disregarded her without diving further into her thoughts as more pressing matters needed my attention. Although, I did try to be kind. I brushed her hand as she set the bottle on the table, trying to soothe her if even briefly, intending to ease her aching loneliness. Of course, I succeeded, and she ceased her lingering.
I had just settled back with a rich glass of mellow red wine when two enchanting ladies sauntered in, with the maître de leading them to my table. The restaurant got noticeably quiet as they immediately caught everyone′s attention, even as the storm raged just outside.
They glided between the tables, looking like a pair of cheetahs on the hunt. Their sleek, sinewy legs hinted at their hidden prowess. It was vaguely concealed by their stylishly conservative dresses. They strolled gracefully to our table, glancing around at the mundane humans, sizing them up as if they were deciding whom to devour first.
Standing up formally as they reached our table, I thanked the maître de and dismissed him with a generous tip. I reached for the ladies′ hands and gave each a soft, welcoming kiss.
"Hello, my gorgeous Witches. You look particularly exquisite today."
They smiled charmingly at me, their perfect white teeth accentuating their beautiful faces.
"Thank you, sir. So are you." They laughed lightly together; music to my ears. We exchanged intimate kisses, then sat down, one gorgeous lady on either side of me, just the way I liked it. We settled in so that we could see each other while we talked. We had a lot to discuss today.
The ladies briefly scanned the small restaurant, noticing we were still the center of attention. Taking the hint, I took a deep breath, lowered my head slightly, and let out a deep, guttural growl, invoking a minor demon that I kept on a short leash. The vile thing wandered the room, whispering abominable terrors into the ears of the petty humans around us. The patrons jumped and shivered as one. They were startled by this sinister, dreadful thing they could feel but couldn′t see, causing them to quickly turn away from us, pretending to go about their business.
They were all jolted again as a waiter dropped a plate without warning, which shattered with a loud clatter. A sudden blast of wind rattled the windows with a new intensity, causing several nervous patrons to scream in unison. I had timed the events perfectly. My ladies chuckled, smiling at me.
"Show off," accused the gorgeous lady to my right as she squeezed my hand lovingly. Her crêpe tan dress displayed the deep caramel of her satiny skin, while a slende
r, black headband held her shiny Afro in check, accentuating her almond-shaped, black pearl eyes and high cheekbones. She was my first Witch, a Dream Walker, and a very deft Liminal. She could mangle your subconscious, then wander through it like an empty house and make you dream things, whether you wanted to or not. I had loved her first and most certainly still did.
"You being bad again, sir?" frowned the captivating lady to my left as she reached for my other hand. She leaned over and kissed me gently, delightfully tickling my full, silvery goatee. "No Demons. We talked about this."
She wore a short, dazzling peach dress, highlighting her shimmering, dark, ebony skin and perfectly shaped, muscular legs. A glistening, silvery gray Afro bounced free around her apple-shaped face, accentuating her blazing auburn eyes and framing her dark beauty like a classic painting at the Louvre in Paris. She was my second Witch, an Empath, and a gifted seer. She could make you do things, whether you wanted to or not. Her intuition was almost Goddess-like, while her connection to the spiritual Universe was uncanny. I had loved her second. Yet, I loved them both deeply, and absolutely still did.
"They got off lightly. They were being intrusive." Satisfied with myself, I flashed a charming smile at them both while I surveyed the room. A hushed whisper from the next table caught my attention, followed by the loud clink of a fork dropping on a plate. Glancing over, I saw a middle-aged white woman glaring at us with an angry frown while her husband tried to calm her down. It was apparent that interracial relationships were still unacceptable even in our allegedly modern world. After taking a deep cleansing breath, I focused on the negative energy surrounding us, then centered myself, murmuring a short chant, making sure we were obscured and unseen.
I was the Elemental Wizard of our unusual trio, and the three of us complemented each other, completing our intimate Magick Circle. We had been together for forty years, and it had taken that long to finally realize what we were truly capable of, especially together. We had become inseparable, partly because of our Magick, but mainly because the three of us were madly in love.
I was a very lucky Wizard, if luck were to have anything to do with it‒which, of course, it didn′t.
Regarding my two ladies lovingly, I let my mind wander through time, forgetting why we were here. I thought about how my own odyssey had begun, how we had met so many years ago, and how we had become as adept and capable as we were now. It had been a long, arduous journey for all three of us. It′s a story worth telling if you wish to hear it.
My name is Jake Edward Galder, and I am a Wizard. You would not recognize me as such. I might seem as usual to you as anyone else on the street. At least, as normal as a true Wizard could appear. I don′t fit the Hollywood image of a wizard flaunting dark, flowing robes, and an earthy, conical hat while wielding a thick, magical staff. I′m an actual Wizard, dressed in stylish, modern clothes.
You would notice that I am well dressed, athletic, poised, and confident, even a bit arrogant and somewhat forbidding. If you happened to make eye contact, you would forget who or where you are for a moment as I search your soul within that instant. Depending on your own personal energy, you might either be intensely repelled by my presence or irresistibly drawn to me. Regardless, it′s sometimes difficult to remain anonymous, but I manage.
You may ask how it is that I became a Wizard. The answer I give you depends on your beliefs. If you believe in the Magick of the Universe and the existence of true Witchcraft, my story will lend some credence to my self-assigned title and maybe even provide some hitherto unknown insights for you, the reader. You might even recognize yourself in some of my experiences. For those of you who do not believe in our spiritual connection with the Universe and the reality of Witchcraft, I suggest you listen to my account. I might convince you of its truths and boundless potential.
Growing up, I never really cared for my name‒Galder. It caused me a fair amount of grief in my early years, as schoolchildren can be deviously cruel. I endured countless episodes of taunting and harassment caused simply by the sound of my name. My oversized ears only added to my grief. Because of it, I learned to dislike my classmates. Not that I liked them anyway. I was always a loner, standing out from the rest. But then, I preferred being alone, even when I was younger. During the twelfth year of my current lifetime, that aloneness became more pronounced.
I had set fire to my seventh-grade science teacher′s desk. It wasn't intentional, of course. At first, I wasn′t even sure that I had caused it. We were studying volcanoes, and Mrs. Pruitt had put in a video that displayed the power of volcanic eruptions. I was especially captivated by the whole business when suddenly I began feeling feverish and my face felt flushed and hot. Then I started tingling and sweating profusely while sitting at my desk. That didn′t go unnoticed.
"Hey, look at Balder!" exclaimed Everett, sitting two rows over and slightly behind me. He was a spineless bully and my least favorite person, along with his two henchmen always at his side.
My anger bubbled up like a cauldron of molten lava, and I suddenly had a severe bout of heartburn. My head spun, and my neck began feeling warm and prickly, which transmitted down my arms and into my hands. They immediately felt numb, hot, and tingly.
The next moment, the paper-mâché volcano on Mrs. Pruitt′s desk erupted with a loud whoosh, sending sparks, smoke, and fire into the air. It abruptly burst into flames.
The girls sitting up front next to me screamed and Mrs. Pruitt yelped with them. She swiftly disappeared into the hallway, snatched the fire extinguisher, and had the small fire put out quickly without much fuss.
Sitting there dumbfounded, I felt stunned and confused, as if I had triggered something terrible. Heat radiated from my palms, and sweat soaked my hair. "Way to go, Baldhead," teased Everett from behind me, seeming to blame me for the fire.
Turning around, I glared at him as my stomach churned with rage. The two of us had a long, unpleasant history. He leaned back with his eyes wide, not knowing what to expect next.
"You should be on fire!" Clenching my fists, I stared him down.
The next instant, his thick orange hair began to smolder and then unexpectedly burst into flames. He jumped up, yelling and trying to put his burning hair out with his hands. The students sitting around him scattered like ants. Mrs. Pruitt was quick, appearing out of nowhere and dousing his head with the fire extinguisher. I couldn't help but snicker to myself.
"Everett, are you okay?" she asked with concern.
He seemed none the worse for the wear, except his hair was charred not entirely down to his scalp, and he looked like someone had dumped a bag of flour on his head. He coughed a few times, choking the powder out, seeming to recover.
"Goodness, I don′t know how that happened!" She sat the fire extinguisher down and brushed the white powder off his face. "I′m sorry, I had no choice. Are you okay?"
"Yes ma′am, I think so," he choked out, glancing warily in my direction. Then he pointed shakily at me. "I think he did it."
Mrs. Pruitt glanced at me, then back at Everett.
"Don′t be ridiculous, he was nowhere near you." She lightly touched his scorched head, brushing more of the powder away. "How about you go to the nurse and let her check you out." She urgently ushered him out the door and down the hallway toward the nurse′s office.
The rest of the class was still murmuring and looking around in confusion as all of us were wondering what had happened. Although, I was beginning to think that somehow I had caused it. Several of my classmates were obviously thinking the same thing, as some of them were eyeing me and whispering secretly to each other. Thankfully, Mrs. Pruitt broke everyone′s train of thought.
"All right. Everyone head outside. We need to clear the classroom before the smoke gets to us."
Oddly, there wasn′t that much smoke. There was more powder from the fire extinguisher than anything else. The whole business hadn′t even triggered the fire alarms. Although, the acrid stench of Everett′s charred hair filled the room. I chuckled silently to myself, thinking about the look on his face when his hair started smoking just before it burst into flames. Yet, my stomach still rumbled.
