Free The Fern Tender by A.M. Price Page A

man-made metal pots, and glass jars.
         Lillian had learned long ago from Miranda that man-made energy had to be contained so placing natural items between the metals kept the artificial energy at a minimum, allowing whatever natural energy she and Ellen deemed appropriate to come forth. Miranda had turned what was once a gloomy and sterile kitchen it into bright lovely gathering spot in the midst of darkness. Lillian had fond memories of coming here throughout the years and enjoying a bowl of whatever Miranda was brewing in the pots.
         Miranda found the ladle and dipped it into the bottom of cast iron pot, fishing out the larger pieces of chicken. The kitchen chatter had stopped after Ellen’s request, and in its place a soft respectful silence emerged.
         The full circuit meant visiting all the rooms in one day. It also meant Lillian would submit to black magic during her room visits. It was intense and could be dangerous. Black magic carried risks. The risk of wonderful experiences and also the chance something could go wrong. Everyone would have to be on their guard from here on out while Lillian visited. It was too late to change her mind anyway, she had already begun the process just by saying the words ‘full circuit’. The black magic was building and on its way, filtering into the kitchen from the second she said those words.
         “Soup is great as usual Miranda,” Lillian said thankfully.
         After a half dozen spoonfuls, Lillian looked up from her bowl and stared at Ellen, “I’m ready” she said.
         Ellen replied, “OK, God Bless. Miranda please lead Lillian to the room of crosses.”
         Once again Lillian was taken through the corridor, being careful not to slip on the black and white checkered tile. Whether it rained or not there were constant drips of icy water that formed small puddles on the third floor. They rounded the final corner and the dim light of the elevator button illuminated the path to the elevator. Miranda punched the button with the cross on it and they began to fall gently inside the machine. Despite its age and appearance they made a soft landing at the very bottom of the temple.
         Lillian closed her eyes and began to focus on losing herself. This was where she came when she needed to be fully present, never thinking about the past or the present or her emotions. The most important survival skill she had learned at the Temple was to be completely in the moment. Almost like a bad acid trip, the magic could get confused if your mind jumped from one place to another or one part of your personality to the other. Full ownership over consciousness, including the subconscious was needed at all times for this to be fun. Otherwise, Lillian knew all she would feel or see would be the dark side of everything.  She also knew being in a room strapped to a series of crosses and flogged required her full attention and focus on the positive.
         When she was younger training her mind to enter the state of consciousness where both she and the magic worked together as amplifiers to each others power was hard work. But over the years Lillian had mastered it. And she was proud of that. Most women had no clue Black Magic even existed let alone the skill to use it to their advantage. Being overwhelmed physically, mentally, and spiritually was a beautiful thing, but one wrong thought and it could become a nightmare. They referred to it in black magic as getting bent.
         The last time this occurred years before, Lillian spent three days recovering in Ellen’s guest bedroom trying to exit a horrible dream, while Ellen stood guard over her and slowly expunged the magic that had penetrated her mind. Although she was experienced, it was always a risk. Lillian knew she had no time for it on this visit, she had to stay focused. Time was running out.
         Just as the doors opened into a pitch black damp cold room, Miranda looked at Lillian