Uncle Acid led Nancy by the hand to her new home. He was advised by the Dark Lord to sit with her for a few moments, then bless her six times over with the upside down cross. I pray you find your way dear Nancy. I pray you see it, just like your Aunt did. Although I pray you do not suffer her same fate. Nancy nodded. She parted ways with Uncle Acid, walking away as their hands fell apart. She knew it was time, and she knew she had to do it alone.
She walked into the creaky old house. A glowy machine stood before her at the bottom of a stairway. She heard the Dark Lord tell her to press the large button. It said “THIS WAY” with a large black arrow. After she pressed the button she saw her life in scenes throughout the upcoming year. She saw all the different timelines and all the ways in which her life could go. Every photo had her in it - they all looked like her but everything was also staged in the 50s. There were 10 scenes in all and by the time she reached the end the machine shut down, going completely dark.
She pressed the large button over and over, but the Dark Lord beckoned her up the stairs. After arriving at the top she stared down a long hallway with three doors on each side. She screamed Lilith’s name but nothing happened. You are being asked to do this alone at this time, stated the Dark Lord. She cried so hard. Nancy knew that if she wanted to experience anything at all ever again, she had to open those doors. She lowered herself onto the floor and began to chant “Lilith above me, Na’amah below, Mistress of the Moon, Queen of—”
SILENCE!!! The Dark Lord roared. Nancy cried harder. Woman, powerful, wise WOMB-AN, you are being initiated. Do not be afraid.
Nancy held herself as she rose up and crept toward the first door. She opened it slowly, and saw herself. A version of her sat in the middle of the room with a permanent scowl, looking displeased. Her true self was on the phone pacing in a circle, around and around, a long rope attached to both of them. She hung up and the displeased version calmly told her that now they had to fine-tooth comb every decision she made, so they could identify each of her faults. Her true self refused, and the displeased version pulled the rope around her solar plexus tighter. Nancy could feel her own waist shrink, her breath slowing down.
She walked toward the second door. Why are you fucking making me do this!!! She screamed. And not a sound was heard. She twisted the knob. In the middle of the room a version of her floated inside a tank full of tears. Its arms and legs moved slowly back and forth, its face deeply indented with lines, directly under its eyes. A rope penetrated its crown, so that blood dripped down the back, discoloring the tank. This version of her was not crying but the only sound that filled the room was her incessant crying, in the distance. Nancy followed the rope to a screen, it was her true self mind screen. Sitting in the chair provided she watched the moment she was fired, the first time her mother chose her boyfriend over her, and the day her grandfather hit her in the face while everyone looked on. Nancy covered her eyes.
The third door held a dark room with only the television lighting up a couch across from it. A version of her sat on the couch, a version akin to the housebound mother in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, eating a pint of ice cream while a bag of chips sat on its lap. Her true self sat on the couch as well, both of them attached by a rope. Both ends went directly into their pants, to the root. You’ll never fucking get it, you know that right? The version of her said, as food spit out of its mouth onto her true self’s face. You’re a fucking loser, a fake fuck, it said, as it waved the pint of ice cream in the air. It took a spoonful. They never gave a shit about you so why should I? Liquid ice cream dripped out of the sides of its mouth, and as chips fell to the floor it screamed, Pick them up! It then snatched the chips out of her true self’s hand. Fucking pathetic, it said, with a mouth full of food. You wanna play the victim! You’ll always fucking be the victim! If I wasn’t attached to you, I’d leave you too!
Nancy tried the other doors but the rest were locked. As she turned around to leave she found a sheet of paper on the floor, with pictures of all the other parts of her at play in her life, including one picking at its third eye until it bled, and another in which she was portrayed as a human crystal, absorbing everyone else’s negative energies.
Thank you for bearing witness to Dark Lord Show Me the Way. This piece was heavily inspired by Richard Schwartz’s book, No Bad Parts.
Jennifer Diane is a witch scholar, writer and model based out of New Jersey. She’s authored Folk Horror, Rural Horror, Devil’s Manifesto, Emotional Horrorshow, and Salvation. Book a one on one session, shop her books and zines, or find her on Instagram.
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