‘Magickal traditions and approach’s are fluid things that must evolve alongside shifting times and changing lifestyles in order to remain effective. One must look at patterns and end results, then compare them to past ‘problems’ and how they were dealt with. The dark places, the in-between, the lurkers and the vampires constantly change their behaviours as much as their human counterparts’
On my day off I like to revel in a long, lazy and deep lie in, so the phone ringing incessantly only a few hours after I went to bed, was more than unwelcome.
It was too early for any normal human interactions, too early even for cold callers. All my friends know I hate telephone calls, so I assumed it was important and forced myself to answer.
At the other end of the phone was an acquaintance who told me of the suicide of someone dear to me; a young woman called Sabina. It was the sixth suicide of someone that I knew in as many months, and as with the other deaths, Sabina was the top of the gene pool and a major ‘influencer’ with instagram followers numbering in the hundreds of thousands.
I staggered out of bed to make coffee, smoke and think.
Sabina and I had met for lunch (well just caffeine really; the higher Sabina’s followers count on instagram grew, the less food she consumed) a few days ago and she had seemed fine. Radiant in fact. Beautifully groomed and expensively glossy with the slight dislocation we all have from our maintenance dose of anti anxiety meds.
She was happy, bubbling with plans and projects and potentialities, many courtesy of her online sponsors.
Sabina was a celebrity witch. She would perhaps have been a bog standard practitioner but for her good looks and ability with a camera, things which ensured her high profile book deals, interviews and well paid celebrity clientele.
My other friends who had killed themselves, though with different métiers, were the same in their being blessed with photogenic features and good selfie skills, so were all also doing incredibly well when they for no apparent reason, killed themselves.
Deciding that I wasn’t going to be the only one to be woken at this hour, I rang another of our crew, albeit a living one, Eliott Edge. As with myself Eliott didn’t have a huge online presence, in fact he used that to advantage as he was a cyber witch and a member of the esteemed COCO- Cyber-Occult-Collective-Organisation of Cunning Folk.
As I had expected would be the case, Eliott hadn’t yet gone to bed and was typically hyper despite a sleepless night of revellery.
I talked to him about Sabina and arranged to meet him within the hour, at a nearby coffee house that provided the best rocket fuel around.
I was sitting at an outside table of the cafe when Mr Edge rocked up, near transparent in his leanness with his slightly stained suit still rumpled from his previous evenings excursions, and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
Eliott was always able to lift my spirits; his camp gambolling being a distraction from his huge intelligence and focused cyber magickal ability.
He also had been personally acquainted with all the recent suicides although not as well as myself. Eliott tended to mix with the dark off-liners; people who played within the tech world and deliberately avoided creating a (genuine) social media profile.
We drank espresso and smoked cigarettes as we talked. Eliott interrupted a few times to make various phone calls, then called a halt to our conversation and hustled me into a taxi.
He managed to get a friend of a friend to allow us access to Sabina‘s corpse; something I wasn’t too sure about but Eliott seemed to think it was necessary to prove a theory of his.
The morgue was a come down from the high glamour that Sabina recently had been submerged in.
Part of a standard Victorian red brick hospital,the mortuary was situated in its traditional place in the basement.
How Eliott managed to get us past security I don’t know, but he did. We walked down the final, damp stained corridor to the room that housed the drawers that held the bodies, one of which would be Sabina’s.
Eliott checked the lined up name tags and eventually slid out a long drawer. Sabina had been cleaned up after her deliberate overdose and she looked small, grey and very much an unoccupied flesh shell.
Eliott rummaged in various suit pockets, and produced a couple of small pairs of reading glasses with rectangular smoked lenses. He put one pair on, then gestured at me to do the same with the other. I looked at the body again whilst wearing the glasses and felt my morning’s coffee rising in my throat. Sabina’s body now looked as if it was suffered from some sort of hideous acne. She was covered in raised lumps with black centres and it looked as if those centres were moving, o god, those things had eyes. Christ it was hideous.
Eliott leaned over Sabina and with a long pair of tweezers, carefully squeezed one of these bumps, and an oily, stinking, glossy black worm came wiggling out.
At that point I fled to find somewhere to throw up.
Eliott and I had given up on coffee and were now in a bar. I was still feeling fragile, something that several large whiskeys was rapidly rectifying.
According to Eliott, the creatures that I’d seen burrowing into Sabina were not unusual. They were suckered astral worms: inter dimensional soul eaters.
These things had always existed, but their main hang out had previously been hospitals, cross roads and bridges; places where people took energy but didn’t give it. They found a new portal when the internet was invented but had remained pretty innocuous until being connected because ubiquitous. This had somehow given them an ability to use the internet as a vector to come through and reside as parasites within human hosts. Their food being the human spirit, soul, spirit or chi.
In smaller numbers they were relatively harmless; they would cause a slight debilitation, tiredness and depression that in modern terms was considered pretty much the standard; a modern malaise which pharmaceutical companies quickly rose to the occasion to deal with with various of SSRI’s.
However social networking sites seemed to be particularly rife with these creatures and the higher the attention and focus on a particular profile,the greater the magnet the person behind the profile become for these suckers. Somehow the energy generated by a large amount of ‘followers’, created a more solid vector for them to travel on, and the ‘influencers’ became a target that would often end up like Sabina, debilitated, drained and depressed by a resident colony of writhing, voraciously hungry, soul eaters.
Eliott said he had been looking at these things for several years now after encountering them in a cyber journeying trance and many other people in his field had enough suspicion about their existence to avoid social media entirely.
‘Was there a cure?’ I asked as I finished my third whiskey and munched a handful of mixed nuts to try and refill my stomach.
‘No’, said Eliott as he made his way to the bar with our empty glasses, ‘not at this point, only avoidance of contact which is becoming nigh near impossible now.’
He went on to say that when they lurked in the traditional places such as areas where a suicide had occurred or a hospital, there was modes of protection that one could take. However in this case, there is no three dimensional mass of matter to work with it; also, these soul suckers are essentially etheric until they reach their target where they assume form from substance gained from both the host and their followers, so there is no specific target to say, work an exorcism on.
In the past you could choose to avoid these so called hot zones or pacify the area by feeding it with offerings or by building a spirit house on it to occupy any ill-intentioned or mischievous invisible visitors.
Now the ‘place’ as such doesn’t exist, so a whole new approach must be created.