Today's Writing Exercise

All right, fidgeting done, all last minute need to do’s are done, there’s nothing else to do but get down to business writing something productive here. At least that’s the plan. I’ve decided from now on, time permitting, that I shall sit down and write some sort of exercise until I become inspired to write something publishable, or work on a piece to send for a competition—something! I’ve done too much of nothing! Then, once I manage to write, I intend to work on my computer books, try to get a little more studying in. No phone calls, emails, Facebooks, games, etc. until the real work is done.

Today’s topic from A Writer’s Book of Days is to write about casting a spell:

Several years ago, in the relationship previous to this, my marriage, I confess I finagled in witchcraft and did actually cast a spell on the boy I was seeing at the time. I truly believe the motto: Be careful what you wish for. Especially in regards to using black magic-honey, it can only turn out bad…Where to begin?

His name was Tom. My sister-in-law had fixed us up on a blind date. The two of them worked together in a grocery store and had been friends since high school. Tom was a funny, energetic guy, kind of cute, all American looking, and not seeing anyone after his last relationship had gone bad.

I was floundering hit or miss in the single world after bailing on my second marriage disaster.  I was seeing two delicious older men-Paul, who lied about being wealthy but he looked like a Richard Gere knock off. Oh gosh, I can’t remember the other one’s name all of a sudden! He was a painter, older than Paul but yummy in a Hubert Keller kind of way. Oh…sexy and divine. Sadly , neither of these relationships held any future promise, fun as they were, and when Cathy suggested a date with Tom, I thought why not?

We fell quickly into dating regularly although, looking back, I don’t really know why, other than perhaps we both wanted something to call a relationship? We had nothing in common. He was an alcoholic and drug addict, faking living a normal life. I really must’ve been grasping at straws. He loved wild parties, drinking and doing coke. I had already had bad experiences with other drug addicts—why I didn’t go running mad in the other direction is beyond me. I refused to get high or drink with him and he got tired of my sobriety. We had an embarrassing fight in the middle of a friend’s party and I decided to call it quits. Or did I? Ridiculously, I wanted him back.

There was this little shop around the corner from where I worked at the time called Hocus Pocus. It was a magic and witchcraft shop with all sorts of candles and spell books, tarot cards and crystals. A couple friends and I would hang out in there at lunch time, browsing books and wasting time. I indulged my curiosity and bought a few spell books. I’d take them home to my little Shadyside apartment (I loved that place!) and peruse spells, whispering this incantation or that, never thinking it’d amount to much. Until Tom and I broke up. Now it was serious.

I found a spell to bring back a lover’s affections. Or at least to torture him until he couldn’t bear to be without you anymore. Candle lit, needle in place, I said the spell every day. Every day until things started to get weird in Tom’s life. His grandmother fell and was hurt fairly bad. His brother was almost killed in a car accident—thank God his two little boys weren’t in the car at the time. Cathy knew I was working some sort of mojo over Tom and begged me to stop. Tom finally called me to ask me out again and I put my magic books away.  I had gotten my wish.

Oh, had I just left things well enough alone and gotten on with my life. I gave in with the drugs once we were seeing each other again and the next five years were a blind fury of sleepless coke filled nights, near overdoses, a trip to jail for Tom, stealing, and lost jobs. Not a single thing I could look back on and be proud of. He finally proposed and I said yes even though I knew in the deepest part of my heart I wouldn’t marry him. Still, I bought a dress, booked a hall, photographer and caterer, the plans moved forward.

The only light in this whole mess was marriage classes since we were planning to be wed in the Catholic church that Tom had grown up in. We attended weekly classes and something happened in my heart. I wanted more than anything to be sober. I prayed fervently for God to give me the strength to find my way out of the dark black hole I had dug for myself the past five years. Instead of reading witchcraft books, I started reading about Buddhism and even went to hear the Dalai Lama speak one night when he came to Pittsburgh! What an incredible night that was, a turning point in my life.

I continued to pray that God would help me get out of that mess, that wreck I had made of my life. He gave me the strength to finally get sober and say no to anymore coke. I found myself wanting to be away from Tom and spent nights and weekends with family and friends so I could escape the insanity. The spell had finally been broken.

Not long after, God sent Bill my way—my husband and father of our son, Michael. I have never been happier. I’ve grown so much closer to God in the past eleven years, my life has made a complete three-sixty. Blessings shower over me daily, I’m so thankful to have been given this second chance. Why I want to write? To maybe make that difference in someone else’s life, to help them find their way to God, to peace beyond understanding. To give back some of what I have been given at the foot of the cross. Amen.