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Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Wednesday Spotlight: Sable Hunter

Sable and the Wildcat

I really get into my research.  My two paranormal novels are about a family of New Orleans style witches who practice a form of hoodoo.  Now, I have some older relatives and friends back in New Orleans that really do this stuff, so it wasn't exactly foreign to me.  But, wanting everything to be as precise as possible, I immersed myself in it and borrowed and bought spell books.  I purchased all types of herbs, crystals, candles - and all sorts of paraphanalia - and I had a blast.  Little did I know that I would get desperate enough to try it out for myself.  Now, I don't disbelieve this stuff; I've seen enough weird things in my lifetime to know that there is a lot more to this world than we can readily comprehend with our five senses.  I've posted the exceprt below from A Wishing Moon to show you the scene that inspired my real life challenge - and here it is - then I'll tell you what I did.

This excerpt is from my other pseudo - A Wishing Moon by Josie Arlington.

     “Wait a minute, sweetie.  We have a big job to do.  As much as I would like to help Arabella find her beau, what I came here for trumps it.  I saw danger in the waters and I cannot get it out of my head that what happened to those little girls down the road is tied in with it.”  Nanette’s narrative got their attention.
     “I see where you’re going with this, Mom.”  Elizabeth helped herself to a second piece of French toast; her perfect figure was not in keeping with her appetite.  “Our involvement will not go unnoticed by the killer.”
     “Absolutely.  His first thought will be that the psychic that found the body will more than likely be able to identify him.  We must put up a ward to keep him or anyone that would do us harm from coming on to this property.”
     Angelique stood up and announced, “I’ll begin gathering the supplies, Nanette.  Time is of the essence.”
     “I know this is Christmas Eve and what we’d rather be doing is baking, decorating and making eggnog, but it is imperative that we put a wall of protection around this house.”  No one argued with her.  While Angelique readied all the equipment that they would need, Evangeline hurried up to check on Arabella.  
     When she came to the closed door of the room, Evangeline could hear Arabella crying.  She eased the door open and went in and curled up on the bed next to her heartbroken cousin.         “Don’t give up. Maybe there’s an explanation.” 
     “I’m not giving up, he may need help.”  Evangeline could barely understand the words spoken into the pillow.
     “Sit up, so I can talk to you.”  All of a sudden, Evangeline felt older than her cousin.  Arabella did as she was told.  Her beautiful face was tear streaked and swollen.  
     “You have to remember that he may not even understand what is happening to him.  He met you in a dream.  Some power has linked the two of you together for a reason.”
     “I have told myself the same thing, Evangeline.  I can’t believe he is the type of person that would betray a commitment.  If he is engaged, what we have is not real to him.  More importantly, I must know what has happened to him.”  She got off the bed and went to the sink to wash her face.
     Evangeline followed her into the bathroom.  “Grandmother is about to make witch bottles and put out red brick dust.  She seems to think that the killer will come after us when he hears that we helped discover the bodies.” 
     Arabella turned and looked at her cousin.  “Wow, this is turning into some holiday isn’t it?”
     Evangeline smiled with typical teenage bravado, “Yea, kind of exciting isn’t it?”
     Angelique and Elizabeth prepared the witch bottles.  They took plain canning jars and filled them with sharp objects, such as nails, straight pens and pieces of a broken glass.  Then they added rosemary, cactus spines and rose thorns.  Finally they finished off with a mixture of red wine and a few drops, each, of their own blood and urine.
     “I used to think this was so gross.”  Elizabeth said.
     “It is a very powerful barrier to evil,” the older woman said while attaching twine to the neck of the jar. 
     Nanette walked in.  “Sweetie, we won’t be hanging these jars,” she explained when noticing what Angelique was doing.  “We will bury them.  If he were to find one of these jars and destroy it, well that would never do.  How many did you fix?”
     “Nine.”  Elizabeth answered.  “Will that be enough?”
     “Yes, three times three – very powerful.  We will space them out all around the perimeter of the property.  When you have them ready, I want you two to walk with me as we put out the red brick dust.  Bring a shovel and we’ll bury these at the same time.”  Nanette got her cane and they exited the back door to begin the ritual. 
     Elizabeth got a shovel and the three of them headed to the back boundary of Arabella’s land.  She owned twelve acres and the back of it was bordered by Cypress Creek. They had to go slow, because Nanette was slow.  She instructed them to bury the first bottle and then she began.  Angelique handed her a gallon bag of red brick dust.  She took out a hand full and started to walk.  “Ateh malkuth ve-gevurah, ve-gedulah le-olahm amen.  Creator of heaven and earth, God and Goddess, Lord and Lady, Mother and Father of all life.  Hear my cry, hear my plea.  Protect this land.  Protect this house.  Protect all of this household.  I call upon those whom you have created and given power:  Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel.  I call upon the Watchtowers, the Guardians.  I call upon the Watchtowers of the East, element of air.  I call upon the Watchtowers of the South, element of Fire.  I call upon the Watchtowers of the West, element of Water.  I call upon the Watchtowers of the North, element of Earth.  Allow no one to come over this boundary that would do harm.  Allow no enemy to cross this barrier.  Stop the feet of those who would do ill.  Turn back any who would attempt evil against us.  My will be done.  So mote it be.”  As she talked, she walked, and repeated the same prayer over and over again.  Elizabeth could tell that this was taking a lot out of her mother.  She watched as her steps slowed and she became short of breath; still Nanette pressed on.
     They walked the entire outer edge of the twelve acres.  She and Angelique buried all nine witch bottles and Nanette spread bag after bag of red brick dust.  When they were through, they had to help Nanette back to the house.  On either side of her, they walked her back until she literally fell into her recliner.  “I feel better now,” she announced.  In a few moments she was asleep.


Nanette and the girls set up a ward to discourage the serial killer from coming on their property.  Now, I had asked a lot of questions of my New Orleans contingency and knew that the details were supposed to be correct - so when a killer started coming on my property, I decided to do something about it.  Now, I have cats - a lot of cats.  I have tame, fat cats that lay in my lap and around on the porch like decorations and I have wild cats that only come within about two feet of me, yet rely on me for their sustenance.  Everyday, I call everybody up and count heads.  My fat babies are special to me - some I've raised on a bottle.  So, when these precious ones of mine started going missing, I got highly upset.  We live in a rural part of central Texas where varmints and predators are not unusual - coyotes are a big threat.  Big cats, on the otherhand, we don't see that much of.  Several neighbors started complaining that they were losing animals, also.  One neighbor lost a lab and one other neighbor, a small terrier mix.  A woman who lived about a mile from us said that she saw a huge animal with red eyes and my husband laughed and told me that Bigfoot was munching on my kitties.  I didn't like that.  It wasn't till one day he drove the four wheeler up and told me to get on - he had something to show me - that I realized what we were really up against.  He drove me way back on our land to a dry creek bed and pointed out a cat track that was at least five inches across - big enough to hurt one of us, much less my little defenseless cats.  The neighborhood went on the hunt, but in the mean time I lost four more of my favorite fat cats.  Whatever was getting them was coming in the yard and on the porch.  I especially regretted the loss of one grey and white cat.  He had been my biggest one and he loved to eat more than anything.  He would go to the food bowl, sit down beside it and spread his arms over both sides of the big bowl so that no one else could eat with him.  I had also lost Monkey Boy - my brother's orange tabby that he loved dearly.  So, something had to be done.  My husband and the other men were not having any luck and, almost nightly, that large predator was coming into my yard and onto my porch and picking off my cats one by one.  I had done everything I could think of - gathering as many of them up at night as I could and putting them in a cage - but, despite my efforts - I was losing a cat a day.

One day, crying and proofing my book - I realized that my problem was not unlike Arabella and Evangeline's problem in A Wishing Moon.  So, I thought about it - got my courage up, gathered my supplies and went to work.  I made 10 witch jars using the proper herbs, rusty nails, broken glass - some grave yard dirt and some of my own bodily fluids - yuck!  With pomp and circumstance and saying all the right words, I hung those jars in the trees surrounding my property and then - like Nannette - I walked the property, sprinkling red brick dust and reciting a psalm and other magical words that I had written specially for the occasion.  Now, my husband is a conservative, non-believer in that type of thing - but, he loves me and he helped me all he could.  He even ground up my bricks to make dust and walked beside me as I walked the entire perimeter of our property  - which took me hours and hours.  That sweet thing brought me water and even hung my witch bottles in the trees - and he never laughed at me once.  Of course, he is used to my odd ways - being married to a woman that writes erotic romances is a little different and then as some of you know - he takes me ghost hunting as well.  He is a Yankee who I have turned into a Texas cowboy and he has taken to the life like a duck to water.

Anyway, - you can call it coincidence - or luck - or whatever, but from that moment on - the big cat did not come back into my yard and I did not lose even one more furbaby.  Was it magick?  I'd like to think so.

Thanks for reading.
Sable Hunter           

1 comment:

Kytaira said...

This sounds like an interesting book! The water that Nannette was reading, was that like a scrying bowl (ignore my spelling!). I've heard of this but have wondered just how that would work.