Over the next few years in high school, I pretty much kept this witch thing buried in the broom closet. I didn’t talk of it. My practice of rituals had almost stopped altogether.

I did keep a little cardboard box full of trinkets and a spell book hidden in my room. I remember showing it to a friend once, we were 16. It was such a vulnerable moment. I expected her to laugh and judge... but I got quite the opposite. Her eyes lit up looking through the book and ritual pieces. It didn’t call to her the way it did to me, but she could respect it. She even offered to have a ritual with me someday if I ever needed her. Gotta love sisterhood. 🖤

High school came and went with very little delving into the craft. I watched the movie ‘Practical Magic’ A LOT. Every time I was in a book store or the library, I found my way to the metaphysical/occult/spiritual section. I felt at home there.

College was a whole new world. No more catholic school and rules and confessing my “sins”. But you better believe I found Harry Potter and locked myself in my room for days on end to read it all. ⚡️

Nonetheless, I was very distracted by boys, friends, parties, and sometimes even my school work. So the witch in me was dormant, but waiting patiently for me to remember.

After college I had a rough few years. Lots of moving around, relationships gone terribly wrong, identity crisis every six months. This is what happens when we ignore our truth, when we suppress our voice and our light - suffering and toxicity are a given.


One night in mid October I was at a bar with some friends. It was a week or two before Halloween, no one was dressed up, it was just a regular night out. As I stood at the bar waiting for a drink, a woman stumbled in next to me... very rudely - knocking into me pretty hard and with no regard for anyone around her. I turned and gave her a look (one of those Scorpio looks that I have that make you wish you’d never met me 😬). ⁣


She was dressed head to toe as a witch... in the Halloween sense. And she was not having that glare that I was shooting her. ⁣

She pointed her finger in my face and said very loudly “Is there a problem?!”⁣


Just as I was about to let all hellfire break lose, she stopped suddenly and gasped. She looked me dead in the eyes and said “You’re a witch!”⁣


Confused, but still a smart-ass, I said “No... clearly you are.”⁣

She cackled. “Yes I am. And so are you.”⁣

She moved closer to my face and said “You’re like me... you have what I have. You have the sight. I can see it in your eyes. You’re a witch.”⁣

In this very moment... my friend took the photo that’s attached to this post. As you can see... I was in shock, a little scared... and... a brunette. 😂 ⁣

I chatted with her a few moments more and then left. ⁣


That moment shook me up. How in hell did a woman at a bar dressed as a witch have the ability to look me in my eyes and just KNOW? I felt exposed like a raw nerve and even mildly embarrassed. But I still wasn’t ready. I couldn’t wrap my head around what she meant by it all... ⁣


It was two years later that the witch began to wake in a haunted house in Marquette. ⁣


Stay tuned 🖤⁣

Magdalene Finwall