My Life with the Krill Swill Cult

So... I have alluded to this to various people. Whenever I hint at it, people always seem to be fascinated. Here it is...inside the Company. I really should write an expose on this sometime, publish the whole story and make my million. I could sell the movie rights and maybe even get to work on the screen play. Truly, truth is stranger than fiction. This came from a thread on a list I am on... we were talking about cults, and I alluded to my involvement in one. I still debate whether or not cult is dignifying it... at times, the ranks swelled, but since I suspect at least some of the alleged members mentioned by our fearless leader were products of her fertile imagination, it is hard to get an accurate count. I will probably expand this at some point... it's been ten years since it all started, I finally have enough distance to look at it all objectively.

You will notice that names are not included, to protect the innocent and avoid the annoying buzzing gadfly that is the guilty party.

The sexual seduction started before any of the magical aspect was introduced. When I first met her, through mutual friends, she was just this wild, kinda crazy girl that was friends with a friend of mine. The seduction was done with such a friendly, bumblingly harmless manner, that it was utterly charming and disarming. This was no female Don Juan, suave and sophisticated, leading me tenderly astray. No... this was a jewish girl from Queens with frizzy flyaway mouse brown hair, large glasses that gave her a perpetually wide-eyed look. A smile that usually looked somewhat sheepish. A Woody Allen sense of humor. She asked me if I was bisexual, gay or straight but sympathethic, pointing at a "Silence = Death" sticker that I had on my purse. Until that moment, I would have said "straight." Looking into her blue-green eyes - sympathetic, warm, interested. In me! ME! Insecure, no-one-even-faintly-interested-in me-for-4-years-of-HS-ME! I answered... "I'm not sure. I suppose I might have bisexual leanings, but I have never acted on them."

Later that night found us in each others arms, entwined on a doorstep near the bar we were hanging out at. And so it went.... I had a new friend. And lover, bit by bit. Who was very flatteringly interested in me, not just as a lover, but as a person. Who made me feel important, who listened to me as though what I said mattered. The rest crept in. Little odd hints here and there. Little incidents that were mysterious, fascinating, that really just added to her mystique. And I was entranced with her, with the whole experience of being with her.

And lets face it, she made my life interesting. My boring pathetic existence was enriched by this insane little gypsy, this pixy I could lift in my arms. Did I believe all the bullshit she spun? No. The logical inconsistencies were quickly apparent. On various occasions, she claimed:

1. to be the daughter of a Druid, having learned family tradition Druidism from a young age 2. to be the daughter of an archaeologist who travelled a lot, taking her to many exotic places around the globe 3. to be an army brat 4. to have two entirely seperate birth names - she basically reversed the original order. When I first met her, she claimed that ____ was her real name and ___ was just a nickname. Later, she claimed that _____ ____ was her real name, ___ a nickname derived from the longer version. 5. her claimed father's name WAS TAKEN DIRECTLY FROM A BOOK. It's from the Dark is Rising series by Susan Cooper. 6. I confronted her with #5. She laughed it off, breezily... her father had been friends with the author, of course. The author, Susan, got a lot of it wrong, fictionalized it, but there were some plot elements taken from her fathers adventures. 7. to be a voodoo priestess

And on and on...

#1 and #7 are just magnificent. If you are familiar with either culture, the bullshit factor becomes apparent here. The Druids were oral tradition and it died with them. To be a voodoo priest or priestess, one would have to train for many years, after being initiated by a priest or priestess. And if your initiator was not a respected member of that community, you would never be either.

So, she built me, and some other friends into a sort of Spook squad, a la Diana Tregarde and her crew from the Mercedes Lackey series. We were to investigate supernatural oddities. And as needed, fight the forces of evil. The drama level was high. She was very good at manipulating us all, playing us off against each other. She made us feel important, gave us a purpose. Sometimes, rituals were needed and we did them.

Yes, she was ostensibly training me in magic. She did some astral work with me, referring to it as co-walking. It was all bullshit. As a mutual friend who also left her charmed circle once commented "she couldn't magic her way out of a wet paper sack."

I got other friends who became involved, through me. I got a boyfriend, who also became involved. Not having the emotional attachment to her that I did, they were able to see clearer. To smell the pungent odor of bullshit in the air. So, we compared notes away from her and concluded that it was bunk. We confronted her, with some of her still loyal followers there. It was not pretty. We were branded betrayers, etc. etc.

We left... some petty attempts to screw with our lives followed by the lady and her cohorts. They were pitiful, really. While I really didn't appreciate her attempts to convince my father that I was strung out on drugs and needed professional help, my father is not a stupid man and was not going to take her word over mine, so no harm was done...

There was a nasty little couple of spells that were flung at me, but lacking in real power, did naught. There was a dream....hmmm... that was intense. Not sure if she was really behind it, or if it was a Seeking sent me by something else, perhaps even my own mind, as a warning. It was intense. Terrifying. But hardly fatal.

So, that's my story. It made me far less credulous, and fairly touchy about becoming involved with any sort of group spiritual activities.


The Dream

Unsure of date... somewhere around 1992 or 1993.

I was walking down a street in New Orleans, alone, late at night. The street began to fill with mist, clouds of it just rolling in from nowhere... some instinct made me turn, and I saw a cajun looking woman, in traditional cajun garb, gliding up the street towards me. Her feet were not touching the ground, she literally glided in my direction. Her smile was feral... she began to laugh... a terrible, echoing laugh that made my stomach churn and my skin ice....

This is where it got really strange... I sat up in bed. I was wide awake, covered in sweat, trembling. I was in my room at my father's apartment, to all senses awake. And then the skeleton strode through the door, and I knew it was still her pursuing me. She changed from a human skeleton to fox or other small canine skeleton and leaped for my throat. I almost screamed out loud as the teeth connected... and went stright through me. At this point, I was fully awake, with no more visitors.