𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

Scene 3

I made this picture, trying to get the same vibe and objects used in an actual white magic ritual.

I was never present when something like this was happening, but my best friend was, since the ritual was performed for the cleansing of her sister, so even though I have first hand information, I may say something that is not 100% correct.
^ Keep that in mind. ^

__________

It was dark - pitch black if I may add, but the darkness in itself wasn't frightening.

My own imagination and dreams were worse than some lack of light in a room I knew so well. Grandma used to keep it unlocked, allowing me and the neighbouring kids to play in it whenever we wanted to.

It was quite small and cozy, big Persian carpet decorated the old floor, right to it a floral sofa with a brown coffee table in front of it and a lot of Croatian lace layed on it, moved only when it was time for some coffee, as to not stain it. In the back, on the white wall - six smaller windows each with its own laced curtain, which would let a lot of light in during daytime. On the left a bulky closet connected to a cabinet in which my grandmas finest china was held, naturally locked and only used in extremely special occasions.

But at the far back of the room, there was usually her old table and a sewing machine which I noted, were currently misplaced.

And then I noticed that everything was slightly moved, grandma trying to make some room for our new positions. The old table, that was now lacking it's sewing machine, was placed in the middle of the room, three wooden chairs surrounding it.

That is what I had last seen, immersed by the room I was so fond of, before my grandma shut the lights off, three people that stood there now being engulfed by darkness.

The happiness that I had felt in that room from my childhood had already dispersed, lack of light not being a cause.

It took me a while before I noticed that both my grandma and mama were sitting on the chairs near the table, as I stood still near the door.

"Medusa did not get to you, sweetheart. You do realize you have not turned into a rock" grandma commented, yet the humour of the sentance was non-existent for me.

Perplexed by my own mood swings, suddenly going from feeling happy to feeling sad in a matter of seconds, I got out of my trance and approached them both.

Pulling the only free chair back from the table and sitting on it gave me a sense of control, but only briefly.

And then I felt nothing but the negatives. I felt remorse and sadness. Feelings of turmoil washed over me like the waves of an ocean do when storm kicks in, lack of self control controlling me in it's own way.

And it was a feeling I had already known by heart, turbulent feeling of dread, hopelessness and helplessness, all in once. It was a nightmare fuel.

Nightmare feelings.

Despair was evident on my face, I knew it. I got pulled into that world once again, before I heard my grandma ask me if I am ready to begin.

For the most part I was. I was over and done with this whole spiel, I just wanted to be normal again, feel normal again. But the other part of me had gotten used to the sadness, so I started to question myself what life was like before all of this happend to me. What will I dream of when everything is done? What will happen then? Was this a sort of Stockholm Syndrome as well? Feeling glued to the way nightmares made me feel alive, especially after I would wake up and realize I still have not died. It did not kill me.. yet.