| Aoibheann's Book of Shadows |
| June 14, 1942 The ghost are angry today. They smashed a vase in the front room, and they knocked over a lamp. The lamp almost hit our cat, Tady. He ran and hid under the sofa. Mother told us to be brave and not to cry, so I have been trying very hard. I have not cried once, even though the ghost started banging the door of my room open and shut. My little sister, Tioma, is not as brave as I am. She hid in her closet and sobbed. She does not understand that we must prove to the ghost that we are not afraid. That is the only way we can get them to leave -Aoibheann December 17, 1944 The ghost have been getting more and more wild. They break things regularly. Mother and Father wrote to some specialists from Boston who came last night to examine the house for signs of haunting. They did seem to detect a strange energy, but they couldn’t pinpoint anything that could help us identify or deal with our poltergeist. Some experts!When I am initiated in a few months, I will have access to the family library. Right now I don’t even know where it is it’s carefully protected by layers of spells. Our store of knowledge is said to be one of the most impressive of any coven in the area. Surely we must have something there that would help guide us and solve this problem. I feel strongly that this is so…I can barely explain it. My anticipation grows every day. -Aoibheann April 14, 1945 Today is my fourteenth birthday, and I will be initiated tonight. I’ve worked hard, and I’ve studied all my lessons. I know I am ready. Still, it’s hard to sit and wait until evening comes. I guess I am a little more nervous than I would like to admit. I spent the morning arranging all of my books perfectly on my shelves, but the ghosts came and pulled them all down when I stepped out of my room. They must know I am looking for a spell to make them go away. They do things to me cause they know I will succeed. It makes them angry. Tonight after the ceremony Mother has promised to show me the location of the library. Finally! Everything I’ve prepared for and dreamed of…Goddess, be with me today!–Aoibheann September 2, 1946 Goddess, merciful Goddess. What is happening in this house? The event that started it all seems so trivial now, it nauseates me. Tioma had taken my favorite sweater, my pink angora one, from my room without asking, only to get ink on the sleeve. I found it in a ball at the back of the drawer. Furious, I went off to find her. She was in the living room, shrinking behind a book, as if she knew what was coming. Of course, I was trying to control myself, but I was enraged. She stood up and tried to deny what she had done, which only made me angrier- so angry that I couldn’t speak. Just as I turned to stalk back to my room, the heavy, glass-doored bookcase tipped over and slowly fell –right onto Tioma. I heard the glass shatter as it fell against her, knocking her to the ground and landing on her back. She made no sound. For a minute I thought she was dead –then I saw her fingers move. Mother and Father weren’t in the house, so it was up to me to help her. A spell came from the back of my mind, something I’d read in an old Book of Shadows –a spell for making things lightweight. Without another moment’s thought I quickly performed it, and I was able to lift the bookcase off my sister’s back. She looked broken. There was blood coming from all parts of her body where the glass had punctured her, but she was alive. I called out to all members of the coven, asking them to run and help. Then I started reciting every healing spell I had ever learned to stop the bleeding. Within minutes my parents and various members of Roiseal were running through the door. They rushed her off to the hospital. Tioma is still there and is still insensible, but the doctors say she will recover. Mother and Father praised me endlessly, telling me that my quick thinking and composure saved her life. But all I can think of is my rage –my stupid rage over a sweater –and the sight of the massive cabinet coming down on my sister.Why do these ghost want to harm us? –Aoibheann October 29, 1948 A strange thing happened today. I was down in the library looking through some old books on the elder futhark alphabet. These particular books are rarely used, so they’re kept well in the back. As I pulled the book from the shelf, I noticed another book wedged behind it. To my amazement, it turned out to be a Book of Shadows that belonged to my great-great-grandmother, Mairin Quinn. How it had gotten lost like that for so many years is beyond me. Our family has always taken great care with its books, especially the Book of Shadows. Stranger still, some of the pages have been violently torn out. It’s not like a Rowanwand to mar a book in any way. I wonder what happened. I’m going to read the book tonight, then I’ll make sure it’s filed away in the proper place. –Aoibheann October 30, 1948 Mairin’s book has opened up a whole new world to me. Goddess, how was it that I never knew this horrific story? Mairin’s mother was named Oona Doyle. She and her husband came over from Ireland in 1865 with a small group of other witches. They built this house and started Roiseal that year. According to Mairin, a hideous influenza outbreak spread through Gloucester in 1886. The whole coven worked as hard as they could to combat the sickness. Young Mairin describes long nights of visiting sick beds and working on spells. In their attempts to cure others, some of the members of the coven were infected and weakened. The sickness claimed the lives of Mairin’s father and her two younger brothers, leaving the two women alone. Mairin was, of course devastated –but her mother’s reaction was even worse. She lost control of her mind. For two years Oona lived in this condition, and Mairin watched over her at all times. Mairin describes a horrible night during which her mother ran skyclad through the house, casting hexing spells in her own blood. Two days later Oona’s body washed up on the shore. Oona, unable to overcome her sadness, must have wandered out to the ocean and just kept going, allowing the waves to overtake her. Mairin then describes the beginning of a long series of hauntings that went on for years. She made several attempts to control the phenomena. The last few pages of the book are missing. What Rowanwand destroys a book –much less a Book of Shadows? What was written there? I need to study this book more closely. I’ve told Mother what I found, and she seemed very interested. Could it be that we have some kind of an answer to our haunting problem at last? –Aoibheann Samhain, October 31, 1948 Mairin’s Book of Shadows is missing. I was reading it all last night before going to sleep, and I left it on my desk. When I woke up, it was gone. I immediately ran to tell Mother. I was wild with excitement and fear, but she was very subdued when I told her it was missing. She told me not to worry, that there was nothing that could be done. Control, she reminded me. Witches must always be master of themselves. Only clear thought can produce strong magick. Still, I feel as though I had the answer in my hands, only to have it snatched away! Oh, Goddess, what can I do? –Aoibheann August 15, 1950 I’ve been spending more time with hugh recently. He’s a good man, very suitable, from a coven in Boston called Salldair. Although he is ten years older then I am, we do seem to make a fine match. Hugh is a professor of Germanic languages at Simmons College in Boston, and he’s written several textbooks. This makes him, more or less, an ideal Rowanwand husband. I know that’s what Mother and Father are thinking, at any rate, They’re very fond of him. I don’t really feel ready for marriage, but I know I must marry. I did fight when they first suggested it, but now I see that I was selfish and foolish. I am nineteen years old. I must accept my responsibilities. Of course, it’s unthinkable that I should leave Gloucester. Our family is the head of Roiseal. As the oldest child, I will take over the coven when Mother and Father are gone. That’s the way it has always been done.–Aoibheann March 21, 1951 Mother and I have been hard at work on my wedding robe all day, and my fingers are so sore from the sewing that I can hardly hold this pen. The robe will be the most beautiful garment ever created when it is complete! We’re making it from the most delicate white linen. The hard part, of course, is all of the embroidery- we’re stitching in runes and symbols in oyster colored thread, spelling each stitch. It is this work that has given me the sore fingers. And this won’t be the last time. It will take us until June to finish. Hugh has settled on getting a house here in Gloucester. He loves it here, and it’s close enough to Boston. He’s also decided to take time away from his teaching to write another book. Naturally I’m pleased that all is going so well. I have been a bit concerned about other things recently –Father has been looking ill. Good to know that our wedding plans are coming together without incident.–Aoibheann June 23, 1951 I woke up this morning to the sound of a great tearing. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Oona had torn the front of my bridal robe–right from the collar down to within six inches of the bottom hem. My beautiful robe!I couldn’t help myself. I started weeping uncontrollably. Mother ran upstairs and came right into my room. I felt so helpless, but she knew just what to do. She sewed up the great, jagged rip with a basting stitch. It looked like a Frankenstine robe, with ugly scars. Then she put me in a hot bath filled with rosemary and lavender and instructed me to stay there for one hour, repeating the wedding day blessing. When I emerged and returned to my room, the gown was as good as new. In fact, it looked more beautiful than before. Mother had cast a glamour that concealed the tear. I am ready now, and we will be leaving soon. There is no more time for me to write.–Aoibheann July 30, 1951 Father died of a heart attack five days ago. It came on suddenly, and no one was at home. Nothing could be done. Hugh and I have stopped looking for a house. We will live here. Mother will need help and support with Tioma. To make matters worse, this has stirred up Oona, She shredded the curtains in the living room and broke the panes of glass in our front door. Mother and I watched as it happened. She wept endlessly. I need to be strong. Goddess, I know you give, and I know you must take. I revere you, though my heart is broken. –Aoibheann Mabon, 1952 Five years of scrying for Oona have been fruitless. Every spell has been tried and retried. There is only one other option: I must open a bith dearc, an opening to the land of the dead. This is a difficult and dangerous procedure, but it is the only option left that I can see. I have been researching this process for over a year, and I feel that it is time to proceed. Tioma wants me to ask the council’s permission. The council? Who are the council but a bunch of busybodies with nothing better to do then to pry into the business of others? Their time would be better spent honing their own craft. As a witch and as a Rowanwand, I take responsibility for my own decisions and actions. The need is real. Oona is trapped here, and she must be released, for all our sakes. By opening the dearc, we may be able to provide her with a channel through which she can return to the spirit world. The ceremony will take place in two days time, when the moon is full. Great care has been taken to restrict the spell, so it must be written with absolute precision. Claire Findgoll has been assisting me in this task. Her collection of books on lunar spellcraft and spell restrictions is unparalleled.I had planned on telling Mother about the dearc, but she has not been well recently, and I do not want to worry her. Better that she remain unaware. –Aoibheann September 24, 1952 Goddess, Goddess, where have I been? I’m only just now getting the strength to get out of bed and resume my daily activities. We opened the bith dearc two nights ago, Claire Findgoll and I, down on the shore below the house. It is a terrible yet fascination thing, this small hole that rips through the fabric of the universe and seems to go on eternally. I maintained the dearc while Claire conducted the spell to try to draw Oona from the house into the opening. I am glad that Claire stood away from it, as it possesses a devastating force. It actually drains you of life energy. I feel as though I’ve been poisoned. We haven’t had any visitations since we performed the spell, but only time will tell if we’ve been successful. Oh, I must go to sleep again. There is nothing left in me. No energy at all. –Aoibheann March 21, 1953 Ostara already. I’ve been so busy the past few months, I’ve barely noticed how much time has gone by since the dearc. No visits from Oona, thank the Goddess. We seem to have been completely successful. In the meantime the little child inside me grows and grows. She is a girl, of this I am certain. I never knew what utter joy motherhood would bring. I have become more aware of the turning of the wheel and the phases of the moon. I feel her movement when the moon is full. She tends to be sleepy when it wanes. –Aoibheann February 3, 1955 The baby will be coming any day now. At the Imbolc celebration last night, all of Roiseal performed a ritual to ensure a safe birth. Just as I knew Sorcha was a girl, I know this is a boy -a rascally little boy, at that. From the way he kicks, I tend to think that he will give his sister no peace! He’s feisty! We have decided to name him Somhairle. Sorcha seems to know that something is going on. I can tell by the look in her eye. She likes to run up and touch my stomach, then giggles and runs away. She’ll sometimes drag Hugh over and point it out to him, her eyes full of wonder. My little girl –she’s so full of the Goddess! –Aoibheann October 3, 1971 There was an incident today in the kitchen.Sorcha came to me, extremely upset, She was speaking wildly about the craft, saying that it was dangerous and that we shouldn’t be allowed to wield as much power as we do. I attributed the remarks to an emotional reaction to the storm. Both Somhairle and Sorcha seem to have been very affected by it. As we were speaking, one of the drawers pulled itself out and flew across the room, right at Sorcha. She stepped aside, and it fell to the ground. In the same moment, the cabinets started to open up and the dishes came at us. We had to throw ourselves to the ground. This can only mean one thing –Oona has returned. I have already called Claire Findgoll and Patience Stamp. They are coming to help me cast spells of protection this afternoon. Patience has no one to watch her little daughter Kate, so I will be able to distract Somhairle and Sorcha with babysitting. My mind is racing, though. Will I be forced to reopen the dearc? And how is it possible that Oona would come back after so long, and why after this horrible storm?II have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. –Aoibheann November 14, 1971 Sorcha has been gone for one month. Hugh and I have decided we will not scry for her anymore. She is gone. Somhairle raged when we told him of our decision. He screamed. He threatened to leave as well, to go and find her himself. Then he stormed out of the house to walk off some of this anger. Soon, I think, his emotions will regulate themselves and he will understand. Sorcha has willingly given up her power. She has refused the blessing of the Goddess and turned her back on her heritage. When a witch is stripped, it is understood: No longer shall that witch be one of us. Sorcha made it easier for everyone by taking herself away. While I know what I must do, and while I know I am right, my heart is broken. I feel hollow, as if a hole has been drilled in me and all feeling has gone forever. Hugh looks gray, and I worry about his health. This has taken a great toll on him. After Somhairle left, we heard a noise upstairs in Sorcha’s room. We found her quilt in shreds, her books on the ground, and her bedroom window broken. Hugh and I stood there, looking at each other, unable to express the blackness that has taken over our lives. –Aoibheann February 13, 1991 I sat straight up in bed at three o’clock this morning and screamed. Poor Ruth, I think I scared her half to death. I woke little Brigid as well. They both turned up at my door. While I assured that that I had just had a bad dream, I knew it was more. My heart ached as though it was broken. It’s difficult to explain, but it felt as though a candle that always burned inside me had been snuffed out. I felt an emptiness, an indescribable loss. After Ruth and Brigid had gone back to bed, I walked all through the house, trying to convince myself that there was some reasonable explanation for my disturbance. I walked through the basement, the kitchen, and the study, praying to the Goddess that I would find some mundane solution. But in my heart I knew there would not be, and my heart was right. In the workroom, Sorcha’s old bedroom, I found everything in shambles. The shelves had collapsed and everything I was storing had tumbled down. The carpet was shredded where the bed once stood. I knew then that my worst suspicions were true. My daughter, my lost Sorcha, is dead. –Aoibheann February 16, 1991 I haven’t explained to anyone yet what I know to be true: Sorcha is indeed gone. I have performed multiple divination rituals, and the result is always the same. Somhairle will take it very hard. He has never stopped grieving for his lost sister, and I think he has always felt that they would be reunited one day. It was not to be. Some time ago Somhairle told me that he had received word that Sorcha had a child, a baby girl named Alisa. The poor child is without a mother now, only three years old. She will never know the joy of magick, the indescribable feeling of being with the Goddess. If only Sorcha had never left us, if only she had never turned her back on her family and denied the beautiful powers given her by the Goddess. Now this poor child will never know us and will never discover the great richness of her Rowanwand heritage. I might have had a beautiful, powerful granddaughter. Now that is never meant to be. –Aoibheann |