“Words The Rede Fulfill” Fiction. Based on a True Spiritual Path.

“It only lasted three or four months. It was a test, and after we broke up, it took me two years to get over it.” – Paul Case

“Words The Rede Fulfill”

Fiction. Based on a True Spiritual Path.

by The Lily Maiden

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.


  1. Bide within the law ye must, in perfect love and perfect trust.


All of existence, all life, non-life, death, objects, galaxies, exhaled breath, is made from the same substances. Our bodies are composed of stardust and earth; the exact variety of molecules that create everything that encounters the senses. The hydraulic cycle, the carbon cycle, decomposition, growth, and birth interconnect. This knowledge is the basis of Wicca. Nothing separates us. We are all one entity. On the minutest scale, the very depth and center of creation, there is only energy; an energy that vibrates and pulses at various speeds and arrays of sequences. It is possible to harness this energy, to wield it, to use it to achieve ambitions. Those who choose to do this, who know that it is natural and sacred to, are called Witches. I am one of them. This is the life I chose.


  1. Hawthorn is burned to purify, and draw the faerie to your eye.


I was a complicated child. I saw images move across blank screens and heard the people in pictures speak to me. I noticed shadows where there supposedly weren’t any, and mistook spiders for tiny purple-bodied women with bright green wings. I had premonitions that began with Déjà Vu, and escalated to the point where my mother would be thinking something and I’d speak her thoughts aloud. I was three years old when I first met with a therapist.


  1. Honor the Old Ones in deed and name, let love and light be our guides again.


My mother is a Hindu and my father an Atheist. They both pretend to be Jewish to please the older members of the family who survived the Holocaust. They raised my brother and me to believe that a single  deity sat atop a cloud, smote the evil and rewarded the good. My brother never paid attention, never learned more than a prayer for lighting candles. I am now able to read and write in a language I don’t understand, and am therefore officially an adult in the eyes of their God.


  1. Only a select few people know that the only deity I worship is the one within myself—the one who takes the forms of Aphrodite and Thor, the one who strokes my hair at night and reminds me that I deserve love, that I am worthy. That I am a warrior.


  1. For tread the Circle thrice about, to keep unwelcome spirits out.


I don’t believe in the devil. Satan is a Christian concept. Demons, however, are all too real to me, as is Hell.

  1. Some types of demons are born from negative thoughts, emotions, beliefs, and fears that, with enough focus and redirection of neural pathways in the mind, essentially transform into concrete beings. You give them power. You give them life. Hell is not an afterlife—it is here and now, if you let it be; if you let yourself suffocate under an autistic brother, teenagers who call you fat and ugly with their eyes, high school seniors who shout “Burn the witch” at you in the hallways, and a dad who loves weight-lifting and protein powder more than you.

  2. A deity cannot solve your problems if you are too preoccupied to try to solve them yourself.

  3. I am followed by five demons: Anorexia nervosa, major depressive disorder, general anxiety disorder, self-harm tendencies, and an overly skilled ability to tell people to fuck the hell off.

  4. I’ve been “clean” for about a year now, and it’s still not any easier.

  5. I’m terrified that it will never be any easier.




  1. Willows at the waterside stand, ready to help us to the Summerland.


The first time I equated food with poison, I was in a car, an hour from home, without an epi-pen, wheezing through an anaphylactic reaction. I lost sensation of my tongue and gums, my heart slowed, and sores blossomed across my palms, leaving scars that remained for over three years after. The fear only lasted a few minutes. I began to smile through my swollen lips, tilted my head back, and commented on how pretty the stars looked this deep outside of town. I briefly thought that thirteen isn’t very long to live, but my chest pulsed warm with adoration for the universe, and I aimlessly grasped for deity’s hand, waiting to be lead away.


  1. When I regained my ability to breathe and the glaze melted from my eyes, I was almost disappointed.

  2. I lay in bed, pupils blown, repeatedly thinking I will never eat again.

  3. I broke that promise about two days later, with low-calorie popcorn and a cup of tea.


  1. Widdershins go when the moon doth wane, and the werewolf howls by the dread wolfsbane.


A week after my sixteenth birthday, I was strapped to a metal bed with tubs in my veins, 365 calories in my stomach, a blood pressure of 85/40, a hysterical mother hyperventilating in a fold-out chair, and an irritable insurance agent on the phone. I screamed until blisters formed in my throat because the sugar water was going to make me so fat while the nurse laughed nervously and scurried out of the room to locate the doctor. A furious mother of another patient burst in to reprimand me for scaring her son, but after briefly glancing at me on the bed, hastily crossed herself and left the room.


  1. I’d never hated myself more.


  1. Birch within the fire goes, to represent what the Lady knows.


The first time I went to rehab, my parents sent me all the way to Tulsa for a solid four months of weight gain and vomiting feelings into therapists’ laps. When my time ended, I refused to leave, refused to go back to the place associated with so much pain and fear. “We’ll get you a puppy,” they bribed, “just get on the plane and we’ll get you a puppy.” This was acceptable, I decided. A friend is a friend, no matter how furry. This is how I realized that the concept of a Witch’s familiar wasn’t a myth.


  1. Her name is Venus—my physical incarnation of love and beauty. She chose me as her own; meowing demandingly “never mind the dog, I’ll love you more.” The shelter attendant placed her gently on my lap, and as she promptly curled in a tight ball and began to purr, a tight, pulsing thread bound my mind to hers. “Take me home, mommy.”

  2. Her tiny snow-mitten paws kneaded my chest as I sat cross-legged in a circle of golden light bound by candles, incense, gemstones, and holy-water.

  3. It was there that I attempted to apologize to Aphrodite for starving my body, for shrinking its organs and bruising its skin. The goddess quoted the words my mother once sternly said when I told my brother I was sorry for taking his action figure away; “I’m sorry means ‘I won’t do it again.’ Don’t make promises to me that you cannot keep.”


  1. Be true in love this you must do, unless your love is false to you.


Sex is supposed to be a sacred act; two (or more) people devoting themselves utterly to each other’s bodies, cherishing every crevice, uniting in radiantly pure love and adoration. Sex-magick channels all that energy and pours it into the desired goal. This is often the strongest, the most powerful and effective magick. I have never done it.


  1. What I have done: I have been intimate with more people than the number of my toes, and I kissed twice as many. I have seen more genitalia than the number of shoes I own. I found myself topless in a hot tub grinding against the crotch of a man I barely knew. I wound up in a sauna, my fingers buried in cascading black hair, biting the lip-gloss off a girl’s mouth, while two men watched us and masturbated fiercely. I made love to multiple boys who never spoke to me again. I climbed into bed with a man who’d smoked so much pot beforehand that his sweat smelled like bong water. An underage boy pinned me up against the wall in the bathroom of a craft-store. Three times (maybe more), I just wasn’t in the damn mood, and I said so–I screamed no for so long that I eventually just had to agree so it’d be over and done with faster. An exceptionally intoxicated college senior kicked me out of his apartment to walk home in the dark and the rain when it dawned on him that he didn’t know me. I don’t remember how I made it home.


  1. With a fool no season spend, or be counted as his friend.


I’ve been in love four times, but only once with a man. I awoke from a dream of him after 18 months of no contact, to find all my blankets on the floor, my arm and both my legs threatening to go down with them. He’d touched my face and ran my hair between his fingers. Where are you? I scrambled to my altar and fumbled for my tarot cards, laying them neatly on the floor in the past-present-future formation. I drew The Ten of Swords, The Tower, and The Lovers. Oh. I shuffled them hastily and booted up my laptop, punching his name tentatively into the Facebook search bar. My finger hovered over the “add friend” button for a solid four minutes. This is so stupid. I clicked the goddamn mouse and went back to bed.


  1. Two weeks later I was topless in his daddy’s hot-tub and his lips explored every crevice of my neck and shoulders. He told me he missed me and that I was the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

  2. He left me for someone prettier.


  1. Where the rippling waters go, cast a stone, the truth you’ll know.


My obsession with Supernatural is probably a bit unhealthy. We have Sam and Dean, hunters of vampires, werewolves, demons, other creepy crawly dark critters, and essentially everything ‘supernatural’. They prevent the apocalypse from coming to pass. Sam conquers his addiction to demon blood and frees himself from Lucifer’s possession. The Mark of Cain turns Dean into a raging, murderous maniac, a state from which he can only save himself. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, and Crowley, King of Hell, constantly question morality and their true side in the battle of ‘good and evil’. It’s over-dramatic, melodramatic, cliche, mindless, and all around poorly written, but I love the characters more than most of my family members. I want to fling my arms them, sob into their shoulders, and tell them over and over that they are my heroes.


  1. Rowan is a tree of power, causing life and magick to flower.


I love large animals, especially those that live in packs. Because it’s difficult for pre-teen girls in America to hunt with lions, prowl with tigers, prance with wolves, or snorkel with dolphins, I settled for horses; massive, masculine beasts, ropes of muscle underneath gleaming, smooth fur. I roped cattle, waded through the ocean, leaped over broken fences and galloped across wide fields and through sand dunes. It was August of 2007 when saddle burns covered my backside and sand clung to my bangs and eyelashes when the trail-leader dismounted and sauntered over to my palomino. I transferred the reins to my left hand and leaned back with my right resting on the horse’s rump. “Ya think ya can ride that paint?” he inquired, gesturing to my mother’s pale-green face and shaking form atop the large, snorting animal. I feet hit the ground before he finished the sentence, and a grin split across my face. “Sure.”


  1. “You ride good,” he mused, the straw between his teeth sliding to the side of his lips as he smirked. I pressed my forehead between the paint’s eyes and inhaled sawdust and sea. I whispered thank you into his muzzle. Ocean clung to my skin and rebellion danced in my blood. I’d flown across hilltops and soared over fallen trees. For ninety minutes, I embodied Epona, my mind and body melded with another conscious being, one capable of crushing the earth beneath him.


  1. Grapes grow upon the vine, giving us both joy and wine.


My senior year of high school was a frenzy of sexual energy and soft-core substances. It was the first week of April; spring break. We started on a happy note with spin-the-bottle. Cindy picked the liquor cabinet with her bobby-pin and withdrew classy champagne that we alternated gulping down in breathless gasps and burping giggles. We were feverish, frenzied, grins and wide eyes eager to pop from our faces and scatter across the floor. The bottle emptied too soon, all of us licking bubbly drops from our plump lips and bouncing in our cross-legged positions. A disco lamp sat in the corner, flashing red beams against the walls, creating spinning galaxies and a whole smorgasbord of worlds to explore. I kissed Alice, I kissed Cindy, Aaron kissed Jesse, Aaron kissed Alice, Alice kissed Jesse, and over and over and on and on. We sprawled on our sides and heaved with the weight of our glee when we realized it was my turn again to spin. Jesse’s eyes turn feral and his lips pull back into a smirk. The bottle rolled loudly into a corner as he flung himself over me and pinned me to my back, hand clasping both my wrists over my head. Everyone started to “oooo” when he shoved a knee between my legs. I leaned my head to the side to give him better access to my neck, but Cindy climbed over us and dragged me away.


  1. I remember him on occasion, usually at late hours watching the moonlight dance across my ceiling, and I wonder what his hot mouth would have felt like on the underside of my thighs.

  2. Two of the three girls I once loved will never have to wonder.


  1. These Eight words the Rede Fulfill: “An Ye Harm None, Do What Ye Will.”

I tell myself that there is muscle on my bones and power in my gut. I fantasize about falling in love like characters in those torn and faded romance novels tucked away in the bowels of used book stores, retiring to a cozy cabin in the woods and adopting two horses three dogs five cats and twenty glowing goldfish. I imagine that it’s possible, that happiness is just a few published Young-Adult fiction masterpieces away, and that if I just really apply myself I can live the American dream and make everyone proud, be that example of the chick who got her life together, who got out with only a mild case of herpes and minor organ damage. I cross my fingers, hold the hands of my mommy and daddy and their plentiful, blessed money, take tiny baby steps, and remember as often as possible that a Mother never abandons her children.

Leave a Reply

Write a comment