The Man and the Witch

The store looked like any other antique store: Old trinkets, clothes, and toys from previous generations all displayed in the large windows with the store's name and logo in light brown colored font: Abigail's Coven.

"Seems legit," said a potential customer, one hand on his hip and the other stroking his thick brown beard. "Worst-case scenario, it's another fake; well, actually, demon possession is worst. Far worse," said the man as he walked through the door.

The second he stepped in, he felt a wind come from within the building; it wasn't the fresh air of an AC unit, but something far worse. His lungs felt like they were being pressed against something, and he began clenching his chest. He felt darkness all around him despite the warm orange lights from the ceiling and the lamps. Dolls and talismans hung from the ceiling and were scattered all over the place. Bookshelves full of stuff for rituals, spells, and divinations were all placed randomly throughout the store. Tables with quipo boards, tarot cards, and other occult items were on full display. Every item radiated the same dark aura, the same suffocating feeling the man was feeling. It felt like demons were roaming within the store, cackling as they made the man suffer for their enjoyment. Yet the man was not startled and, in fact, began grinning as he slowly let go of his chest.

"So I was right, hahah," cackled the man as he walked deeper into the store. Then appeared a goth witch, with her raven-black hair, onyx black lipstick, and a thin, veiled dress with very loose sleeves and the bottom being dragged behind her.

"Hello, how may I assist you?" she asked softly.

"Hello. I would like a tarot card reading, please," said the man with a bright smile.

"Right this way, please," she said, pointing toward an area beside her as she walked slowly to it.

The area was a small table with a dark red velvet cloth and a tarot card box in the center. The man plodded down, crossed his legs, and sat down as if he were a regular.

"Is this the first time you've had a tarot card reading done for you?" asked the witch as she pulled the deck from the box and began shuffling the deck.

"Not a real one. I had several fake witches and psychics try, but they were all scams. I'm hoping you're not one of them," answered the man.

"I assure you, I am a real witch. The readings I give are true," she said as she stopped shuffling, pulled a card face down, and placed it in front of the man.

"So I've heard," said the man.

"You've heard of me?" asked the witch as she shuffled the deck once more.

"Oh yeah, you give messages both good and bad, tragedy and prosperity. I read the reviews," answered the man.

"Interesting, how did you expose the fakes?" asked the witch as she placed another card in front of the man and shuffled again.

"Oh, that's easy; they were all about showing off, making vague or general statements to see how I would react, that kind of thing," answered the man.

"Hmm, do you expect something different?" asked the witch.

"No, the second I walked in, I knew all this was real. Not a stage, not a vibe, but the real thing. I felt the darkness, and the demons that made it," answered the man.

"Demonic? You must be a Christian then," said the Witch as she pulled the final card and placed it in front of the man, and carefully placed the rest of the deck on the side of the table.

"I am, and throughout my life I dabbled in the mystical and the spiritual. Thinking that I was helping grow God's kingdom, I thought for years that I was a vessel for his power, but I was wrong, and I don't want anyone else to make that same mistake," said the man as he looked around, still feeling the darkness around him.

"Hmm. So an ex-witch walks into my store asking for a tarot card reading. Why?" asked the witch as her hand hovered over the first card.

"Flip them, and I'll tell you," said the man as he leaned in, his chest brushing past the witch's arm.

"Fine," said the witch. She flipped the first card: The Tower. Then the second: Death. The final one: The Lovers.

"Hmm, from this you'll suffer a tragedy, something that completely alters yourself, that will lead to either you or someone you know will be cut off from your life, and then you will find someone to replace what you have lost," said the witch.

"Hmm, funny how life works, because this is the story of what can happen to you. The Tower is your current self. The store, the rituals, the talismans. Everything you hold dear. Death, that is death to self, death to your business, death to everything you know and think you know about the world. The Lovers happens when you become a part of the bride of Christ and join him in eternity, forever loved, never alone. Free from your demons," said the man. Just then, the room shook, and the lights flickered. The witch began shaking uncontrollably; she clutched her hair and screamed. She then began to lean backwards, but before she fell over, the man caught her and hugged her.

"In the name of Jesus Christ. The King of kings, I order you to get out of this woman," prayed the man, but the witch didn't stop. He repeated the phrase over and over, and over again until the witch stopped, the room was still, the light bulbs busted, and the two were cast into darkness with only the afternoon sun beaming through the large windows of the store. Then the witch woke up.

"The voices, they're. They're gone. Why are they gone?" asked the witch.

The man smiled, followed by chuckling, then cackling laughter.

"Why are you laughing? This, this isn't funny. You ruined my business," she said as she shoved the man off and stood up.

"Now answer me," said the witch.

"I told you demons were here. I told you about this business, about death, and about the lovers. Now it's time for you to decide. Do you wish to go back to the comfortable chaos, or do you wish to embrace God's love?" asked the man as he stood up and began to walk toward the door. He pulled out a little business card and smacked it onto one of the tables, then he tilted his head like a Victorian gentleman and left. He walked out whistling an old hymn tune. The witch picked up the card:

Northwest River Baptist Church: 2098 Pinsol Dr.

Sunday Sermons: 8:30-10, and 10:30-12.

Contact: 251-777-3160

"What a strange man, wait, he didn't even pay," said the witch, but before she did anything, she flipped the card over, and on it was a virtual payment account number, profile name, and everything needed for her to charge the man what he owed. "Huh, so he is the real deal," said the witch as she stared out into the large windows.