I believe it is now time to speak of that which I have never spoken before and describe the events of that dark halloween from my childhood that brought me so much unhappiness and distress in the years following but eventually led me to my wisdom though I cannot say to this day that such a heavy price was worthwhile.
I had been reading children's books of ghosts and unexplained happenings when two books fell into my hands: John Symmons biography of Aliester Crowley and another book entitled "Demonology And Witchcraft" which I no longer have a copy of and cannot recall the author save to say that he quoted heavily (I was later to learn) from the mediaeval grimoire "The Black Pullet". It must be understood that I would have been around thirteen years old and the first book was largely over my head except that many of the verses quoted in it were copied out into two school notebooks and I cross referenced any nomenclature with my other book discovering that names such as Choronzon and Baphomet were common to both. I used my knowledge as a source of impressing my contemporaries and soon developed a reputation as a bit of a wierdo. Rumours were going around my school of some older boys practising Ouija with startling success so I duly consulted my sources of knowledge and began to outline my plans for constructing a "spell" as I called it based on the amalgamated and bastardised learning I had at my disposal. it is bad and dangerous enough without the addition of the unstinting vigour, faith and determination of adolescence all fuelled by my growing cynicysm with the Christian Church which I had been attending at my mother's behest as a sever (couldn't sing so no choir for me). I spent many sundays reeling at the hypocrisy I saw within those walls, the ranks of new hats and shiny shoes blithely talking of human kindness and all loving deity without so much as a drop of love or charity in their own hearts. Thus Crowley's rebellion and my scorn for the church led me to work up this project adding all that I felt would bring potency to my work and came up with this hideously garbled ritual which even now makes me cringe to recount
As anyone with a notion of the occult to their claim would see my working was entirely flawed and an absolute open invitation to anything malicious from the spirit world to turn up and wreak mayhem. As it was I wanted results much more than I wanted knowledge, I had no consideration of any banishing, protection or even what I would do if one of the summoned entities were to actually turn up, for me it was merely enough that they did.
Somehow, when I had written it down the whole thing was lacking to my mind, I needed to add efficacy and with it some atmosphere. Also I had to address the problem of where I would perform this "spell" and it was clear I would need to be a good distance away from my parents while choosing a location conducive to such things. The obvious answer was the a graveyard and the local church provided the ideal setting. I was wont at the time to sneaking out of my bedroom window at night and roaming around the sleeping village as it was but I knew this was something else. All the week at school I thought of nothing else and I fixed my mind on my spell with grim concentration - it thrilled me and it was at this point that, having decided upon the churchyard, I added the following notion of summoning the "Graveyard Guardian" to aid me he being by legend (so it said in my ghost book) the soul of the first person to be buried in the graveyard. This was achieved by walking around a yew tree in the graveyard and sticking a new pin into it at midnight. This I duly added to the spell to coincide with the Lord's prayer backwards and I copied the whole thing out again in longhand onto three sheets of A4 paper which I would burn at the culmination of the spell.
Finally the night of Halloween came and I carried out my plan to the letter. I chalked out the markings on a grave near to the yew tree and made my recitation. With great trepidation I drew the knife across my palm and let the blood drip onto the grave. My fear was more of being caught than of anything supernatural as I did it right up to the point of saying the prayer for the third time. Then I was overcome with a great paralysis but I did still plunge the pin (taken from my mother's sewing box) into the trunk of the tree.
It's hard to recall exactly the order of the following events but it began with the church lights coming on and flickering for a few moments. Then there was a wind blowing through the churchyard, it rustled the leaves quite alarmingly and I saw the church lights come on again - I remember thinking it could only be a moment before someone saw them when they changed colour (to red and then green I think though I can't recall clearly) and the glass I had brought for the blood exploded and flew off the gravestone. My nerve broke and I ran for home my breath pounding in my ears the whole way. I remember stopping at the bottom of our drive with a dry mouth and I was shaking with terror. I slung my bag with my ritual gear in it into the hedge bottom and climbed back through my bedroom window. As I lay in bed I calmed down a little but on falling asleep I was woken constantly by nightmares which I cannot now remember. By the next morning it all seemed very distant and I was sure that I had "got away with it" on all levels. Certainly no one in my family or in the village (to my knowledge) knew anything and nothing was ever mentioned at home or in church the following Sunday.
On the face of it I was unscathed and unelated, yes I had achieved some sort of effect but no twelve foot monsters had appeared to do my bidding and Baphomet himself had not even sent so much as an imp in his stead. Gradually I lost interest in what I had done but as the weeks went by unpleasant events presented themselves. The nightmares persisted and it became very rare indeed that I did not wake in the middle of the night shaking in terror. I constantly dreamed of falling down a dark hole or being chased by some unseen horror. My behaviour became strange too, I was a disruptive influence in my classes at school, unable to concentrate and deeply alone and separate from all around me. At home I was quiet and eventually I took to staring at the wall for hours on end which deeply upset and worried my parents. I'd often lock myself in the bathroom and stare at the wall in there until I was discovered and only open the door after a lot of pleading and shouting. I suffered terrible headaches and occasionally when they became unbearable I'd bang my head against a door or wall in sheer frustration at the pain. In short I became a deeply disturbed and unhappy young man but no one, not even really myself, connected this with that single act of magick in the churchyard. My parents were deperately worried about me and councelling ensued (a total waste of time). Unrecognised, my magickal career had begun with a bang . . . .