What?
Just what?!!!
I sit here, on my room floor, writing this very story, dizzy and lightheaded as if I am about to faint. Now, I know a statement like this tends to carry a negative connotation, but I do not sit here, sickly, carrying some sort of invasive disease or parasitic infection. I lie here pleasantly dazed. Instead of detailing in my unnecessarily frilly and decadent words, how I feel right now. (Even though I would thoroughly fancy every second of preforming this.) We’ll address the elephant in the room. How did I get here, you may ask…? I’ll start from the beginning.
I’ve been working with an entity for about give or take two weeks. Every night, without fail, since meeting, at my first evokation of him. I had proceeded with the same simple setup I had used may times prior. In my bedroom, I have a large parchment with his Sigil on bold, rich, black ink on a large piece of blank six by five foot paper. One of my most expressive pieces of functional art. I chant his enn, while gazing into the sigil. I did so for only a few minutes. Compared to how long I usually had to sit, in my room, alone, with the dizzying sent of lavender engulfing my senses almost drowning me in an ocean, violently, as I accepted, and even took a sick type of joy in this particularly calming way of death, an ocean of the smell of the absolute embodiment of everything involving witchcraft, to meditate. I only sat for, a comparatively minuscule morsel of time. It was only about five minutes. Before I could feel his soft hands caressing mine, firmly, yet gently. His presence emanating from the eastward cardinal direction, was a calming one, the same feeling one would attain subsequent to a lengthy, companionless walk in the forest. An exceedingly peaceful one. We talked for what felt like a few minutes, but was hours. Whenever I preform rituals, all of my technological devices are tucked far, far, away. I almost always loose complete touch with the passage of time in our realm. Rituals, for me, feel almost like entering another dimension. This time, however, was exceptionally cunning with the way it absconded the hours that I lost, or rather, spent. Here. With him. It’s as if him and I flee reality and make off to our own little wonderland every night. Excuse my excessive explanation of incredibly intricate details. We’ll continue with the timely progression of the story now! However, besides the average undertone of his presence, I could feel something racy, risky, yet romantic. A new note to the symphony of every tiny morsel of information that makes him who he is. Today, he was touchier than usual. Not in an outwardly sexual way. It was almost as if he tried to hide it from me. Slight things, like fingers to the chin, to make me look up at him. When I didn’t pay attention, a light touch on the cheek, a hand on the shoulder, occasionally. But tiny, spontaneous interactions like this. Are what solidified this long string of moments, in reality, for me. Our conversation had come to an end. We sat in silence. For what felt like forever. I could feel the tension in the air. My internal clock ticking. As we sat there. Alone… but together. I could feel the tension building. Until an unexpected release occurred, he pecked me on the cheek, and made haste afterwards, and in an instant. Left. A light tap on the cheek that illuminated and sent shivers through my whole body.
Now, back to the very start of this story. I sit here, as I write, like an electrocuted night raven, and what a grim, terrible, slow electrocution it was. But I relished in it. Either way, as I said, I lie here. Dead.