Out_of_the_Devil_39_s_Cauldron

I looked up and saw tears in Joe’s eyes.
“What’s the matter?” I spat out. “You can’t handle it? Aren’t you a devil worshipper as well
as I am?”
He just stood there, shaking his head. “John, I can’t hang with you no more, man. You’re too
far gone.”
That night I knew I had reached a place in my walk with the devil that left many others behind
who were in the same occult inner circle. As we made it to Joe’s building, I sensed he had reached a
breaking point. It didn’t matter that he was a police officer, seeing so many harsh things in the world
we live in. What he saw tonight pushed him beyond his limit.
I turned to him for the last time. “You’re nothing but a disappointment to the religion. I thought
you wanted to move up the ranks, but you have no heart for the spirits. Go to hell and goodnight.”
As I walked away, strolling down the avenue toward my own home, I felt fearless—like I
could take on the world. The streetlamps overhead illuminated the sidewalk with a silvery light. As I
crossed the streets I felt the familiar predator instinct churn in my gut. I looked around to see if anyone
was out on the avenue that I could prey on, but the streets were as empty as the cemetery I hung out in
from time to time.
Hitting Rock Bottom
The months went by and turned into years as I dedicated my every waking moment to pleasing
Satan and the spirit gods of my religion. But I missed my daughter Amanda so much it hurt. I felt
spiritually exhausted from lending my body out to demonic forces, hunting for victims in clubs, and
feeling the weight of loss from Amanda’s increasing absence in my life. The older she grew, the less
time she had for me.
One morning I got up and something just clicked in my brain, like flipping a switch. “I’m not
doing this anymore,” I said out loud to the four walls. “I don’t even care if I die.” For death was a
near certainty. Anyone who tried to leave the religion faced a death penalty and soon became the
victim of some freak accident or sudden illness. I’d seen it happen several times.
As I began to be disobedient to the demons’ requests everything in my world fell apart. I no
longer did the rituals and stopped showing up for certain witchcraft meetings. As I started to lose
power, my life careened into a two-year living hell on earth. In the long painful process of my
divorce, I lost a $40,000-a-year job with a shipping company. No one knew of my woes because I
kept my life private. I knew how to deceive people into thinking things were going well with me. But
the truth was, with no employment and no money I ended up homeless, living in the first-floor vacant
apartment I had been evicted from. Every night I climbed through the window just to stay off the
streets.
During the day I roamed around like a zombie walking the earth, not having a clue or sense of
direction. Mine was a life of broken pieces, and I had no idea when it would come together. As the
daylight waned and darkness stole over the earth, I pretended I was the man I used to be—always
having somewhere to go, something to do, people to see. I would roam until late at night, walking the
streets of Castle Hill in an aimless rhythm. Every corner I turned showed nothing but concrete
sidewalks and concrete buildings, with the smell of death in the air. I wondered how much time I had
left here on earth.