Never knowing what I will do wrong next because everything I do is deemed to be wrong. So without me knowing I’m a witch, a demon with powers. Because of this I was beaten with a massive basket in the garden of a beautiful house which was ment to be our home. Let me tell my story of abuse and witch craft. I laugh when I write the word witchcraft.
Autumn fell and the days were getting colder, the nights drawing longer as the days drew shorter. Fires were lit to keep us warm but I was fast running out of cash for fuel so I racked my brains as to how I was to provide this heat. My then husband was not worried because he wasn’t a providing kind: this I learned over time. To escape the cold hostile environment that was building up in the house I used to walk for miles, for hours mulling over my situation as things got worse. Yes I had my job, my health, a car and so much that others didn’t have but I was hiding abuse. I was being abused by my husband . As I walked an idea to keep the fire burning stared me in the face: PINE CONES. The floor of the forest was covered with them and not only would they heat the rooms when dried out and put on a fire but their smell would be beautiful throughout the house.
Note I don’t say home but house. A home is a safe loving place, a house is an empty shell made of bricks and mortar where people exist. I was just existing through the days of abuse.
I returned to the house and collected my basket to pick pine cones. Oh Gosh ! when I think back to how rewarding it was to find a source of heat for the cold nights and how many hours of work it took me to fill and refill the basket. Returning to the garden as it filled to tip my cargo in a neat pile in a sunny corner so the cones could dry out in the sun.
Up and down, back and forth over the hours of my day off I worked so hard and was thrilled. BUT he wasn’t thrilled. He shouted abuse at me, screaming that I was bringing evil in from outside to over power him. I thought he was playing a game at first until I saw the real anger flaring in his eyes and his nostrils flaring. Before i knew what was happening my basket was yanked from my hands and I was pushed to the ground. Then the words witch and powers were spitting from his mouth. I was accused of being a witch who was making my spells; now looking back I wonder what spells i could have made with wet pine cones.
I was made return the cones to where I found them and wash the corner where I had put them in the garden. So the problem of heat wasn’t solved but I wasn’t cold by the time Harry was finished beating me with the large basket. So that was my first time of being accused of having witch powers. Looking back now I know if I had witch powers I’d have made him a smaller gentler person.
As days draw to a close dusk falls over the country a thing that I thought happened in every country but now I know after travelling to Africa this is not the case there. Harry would look to the sky at the fading day and look at me with wonder. I might or might not pass a comment on the beautiful colours of the evening or the darkness that was falling but thought nothing more about these occasions.
That is untill one evening I was having my shower after work and he announced he was going out. Nothing strange there and it was a relief to be alone in the house as every moment I was on tender hooks waiting for the next moment of abuse be it physical, verbal or mental taunting. I was enjoying the flow of hot water on my tired body as it massaged away the grime and tension of the day when the bathroom door was banged open. The shower curtain was pulled open with such force that the rail came down on me. I was pushed so hard I fell and banged myself off the side of the bath. I was beaten with everything he could lay his hands on in the bathroom. My crime : I turned day light to dusk while I showered because I didn’t want him to go out . And also I wanted him to get lost so I turned dusk to total darkness so he wouldn’t find the way to the house. See we lived on a country road where there was no public lighting but I had to walk this road to and from work in day light or darkness but he thought the day light should stay for him.
Candles are amazing sources of light and draw us into our own world of memories and daydreams. I was given a beautiful steel candle holder by my senior sister for my 40th birthday . It was about 3 foot tall and had a beaded blue shade. The center of the lamp had a space to hold a little candle called a night-light which can burn for 8 hours approximately. I used to light this lamp every night as I loved the glimmer of light through the blue beads and the patterns the dancing flame made on the bedroom wall. Also, it as I am afraid of the dark I was able to go to sleep with this small light to sooth me.
This lamp was unknown to me another source of my witchcraft powers : It made people sleep haha . I can laugh now but I wasn’t laughing then.
Some night’s I was watched lighting the candle by Harry and other nights if he told or asked me not to light it I didn’t. But one night the weather was wild outside and he was out. I went to bed, lighting the candle before drifting off to sleep. I must have been asleep for a few hours because the voice took a while to penetrate through the layers of sleep. Through the grogginess, I could see his mouth moving and the arms waving, words like powers, over the land, sleep powers hit my ears along with his fists. His voice got louder and the hitting got harder, Across the line of my vision, the lamp was swung over the bed. I Thank God now that the candle wick had burnt its self out and the only thing to fall on the quilt was wax, not flames. Whack I was beaten across my upper body with the beautiful steel lamp. The shade hit the floor and I tried to move fast out of his reach but I wasn’t fast enough. Down on my back, the steel lamp crashed again and again. The more I begged him to stop the more it infuriated him. Shouting that he would show me what a true African man was like he beat me with the lamp. No man be he African or not is a true man when they beat or abuse a woman. I was beaten because I had lite my candle because I was afraid of the dark that Harry in his ignorance believed my powers worked through the candle to make people sleep. He was beating my sleeping powers out of me a witch.
He was clever enough not to beat me where people would see the marks and also not to beat me enough that I missed work through sickness.
I had not mustered up the courage to seek help at that point but I did very soon afterwards get help. When in an abusive relationship/marriage we believe that we can make things better and only see the truth when something triggers our minds back to the reality of a normal good life. Once you get out stay out.
A lion can hide in a lambs cloth