The Day The Warlock Came

Reads: 420  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is the true story of how my daughter was singled out by the enemy to try to prevent the call of the Lord upon her life, and pervert it to the enemies own through one night of intense spiritual warfare unlike anything most would ever see, unless they too had to take a strong stand against generational curses. But greater is He that is within us than he that is in the world!

Before I share this story let me give you a bit of my history. In my bloodline there is Native American and African American—a strong combination for witchcraft. My great grandmother practiced root working openly, as did her many generations before her back into the ancient heart of Africa. My great grandmother had been something else, or so I'd been told. She lived to be almost ninety, but had served thirty-five of her younger years in prison for murder. My father's background was dubious, but I do know he was of Jamaican heritage. I believe that when you have the kind of history as my family does, the devil believes he has rights to you through generational curses caused by prior sins of your family. However, to my knowledge, I was never exposed to it because my adopted mother guarded me heavily. The prayers of a righteous man or woman avails much. James 5:16. Remember that all you praying parents, for what I am about to tell you is a true experience, and if it wasn’t for my Holy Ghost, Spirit filled praying mother, I don’t know how I could have escaped the grips of the enemy the day the warlock came.

It was the summer of 1991. The year I was to turn sixteen. We were living in a small town where everyone pretty much knew everyone, and if you were new, everyone knew that too. For as far back as I can remember we always took other peoples kids to church, but now it was teenagers, my age. You know, the ones that you can hardly get to pay attention to themselves let alone anyone else consider them. God was working mightily on the teens in our town, and I loved being a part of what He was doing in my life and in the lives of my peers. We were going to a fairly new church that grew by the minute because the Spirit of the Lord was truly there. It was a welcome change from the compromised congregation we had attended in the past where the children and youths were likely to become fodder for the pedophiles and spiritual predators that had invaded that church. I know, I was one among many that fell victim to molestation by a Sunday School teacher who's hands were prone to wander. Even so, I was one of the lucky ones. My mom immediately pulled me out of the class, and soon after the church, before it could happen again. There were other children that fared far worse, suffering at the hands of those even higher up in ministry. But now I was a part of a very active youth ministry, and on fire for the Lord.

On this particular day I was walking downtown with some of my friends. We were singing praise songs to the Lord...well, kind of a hip-hop re-mix to some of the praise songs we sang in our church. We were having so much fun, we didn't care who heard us. Matter of fact, at the time there wasn't as much hip music as there is now as far as Christian music was concerned, so we really thought we were doing something. The girls were singing, the guys were rapping, and we were having a blast.

When we got to the gas station at the corner in front of the K-Mart shopping center we saw a black couple parked to the side of the station. I can't remember their names, but I do remember the dark chocolate colored man with a low Afro style cut as being very tall, close to 6’4” and around 240 pounds. As the guys with us were beat-boxing the beats and rapping, this guy jumps in and starts rapping Christian lyrics too. He knew the Word and how to flow with it and he caught our attention. I was hungry for the Word of God. I wanted to swim in it. The man asked if we were saved. We told him we were, and what church we went to, who our pastor was, and where our church was located.

After a while, most of my friends went into K-Mart, but my friend Angel and I were so intrigued by what this man had to say that we continued to stay and listen to him. Finally after about thirty to forty five minutes our friends came out of the store and were ready to go home. We were saying goodbye when the man asked if we wanted a ride home. He said he was a prophet and the Lord had sent him with a message for me, and he and his wife were to eat dinner at my house that evening.

Now hear me on this, four things came into play in our decision making process: First, we had walked all day long and were tired. Second, we figured he couldn't be bad, he knew the Word of God, therefore he had to be saved. Third, we weren't splitting up. And fourth, the guys in the group thought they could take him on if he tried to do anything.

We got to my house and as I said before, we always took these kids to church. My home was a hangout spot where everyone made themselves at home. While one of my friends took a nap on the couch, the guys all went out back to play football. All I wanted was to hear the Word of the Lord. Folks, this man told me things like, “God has a great calling on your life. You are going to do great and mighty things for the Kingdom.” He told me that God was going to use me in the ministry of music and in the prophetic. He said my life would touch many people and their lives would be changed. He fed me just what I was hungry to hear.

One by one, just before dark, my friends left to go home...all but Angel. She was like family, and wouldn't leave me alone with these people, and Mom would be home soon. And just like clockwork, when the streetlights came on my mom came home and Angel left. The man and the meek woman traveling with him were still there when she arrived and I was elated to introduce her to them and share with her the events of the day.

Mom hid her unease at finding strangers in the house and busied herself in the kitchen preparing our evening meal. She made spaghetti that night and invited the couple to stay for dinner, and they did.

Have you noticed that up to this point I have not spoken about the woman that was with him? Truly, there is not much to say about her. The short, petite woman was extremely quiet and solemn. Her skin was the color of honey and she had hair to match. She seemed to nod her head at everything the man said, and only occasionally spoke a quiet, “Amen.” It wasn't like this was a personality trait of hers. It was more like it was her ‘place’ to be that way.

Over dinner my mother began to speak to the man in the way she always did when she was feeling someone out. He answered her every question with his head held high, and with utter confidence in his voice. I could tell by looking at my mother's piercing blue eyes that something didn't sit right with her about him even though his words seemed to be correct. He told her, “I don't know if you realize what the Lord has given you in your daughter. She is really special, and she has a great prophetic call on her life. The Lord has sent me to pray over her because she needs some deliverance before she can begin to walk in her calling.”

He wasn't telling my mom anything she didn't already know. She told me for years I was called to the prophetic. It was fine with me if he wanted to pray for me, I didn't want anything to stand in the way of what God had for me. And if the truth be told, mom probably agreed I could use a bit of deliverance. But then, can't we all?

When the stranger began talking about generational curses mom told him, "There is a long history of witchcraft in the family bloodline. My daughters great grandmother was a voodoo practicing root worker."

"Ah yes, and this is why I have been sent," he responded. "Your daughter is the age she would be initiated. It is the enemies plan she be a high priestess."

Several hours passed, and we were getting anxious as to when he was going to pray. Mom finally went into her office to turn on the praise and worship music and to take care of some business she brought home with her. It was after 10 p.m. My younger brother was already dozing off when Mom asked him, “When are you going to pray for my daughter? It is getting late, and these kids need to go to bed. We have church tomorrow.” He looked at the clock on the wall, and then put her off with, “Soon, it won’t take long.”

With that the stranger was no longer conversational, saying he had to pray before he could do the deliverance. The woman beside him sat quietly praying in what sounded like tongues. As the clock drew nearer to midnight I could sense my mother's growing alarm. Other than the late hour, I thought little of it. I just wanted to get this all over with so I could get about fulfilling my call. Finally he turned to address me, “You have some sins that you have committed and you really need to confess them. I want you to confess to your mother what you have done in your past so you can walk in the fullness of what God has called you to do.”

Well now I’m on the spot. I have done some pretty bad stuff. But like I said, I wanted to be free. I began with smoking cigarettes, then smoking weed once with the rocker girl from next door, and then the hard stuff—I had to tell mom that I had sex. How embarrassing that was, but I did it. Whew! That’s it, I figured. Now we can pray and I can be free. The man looked at me as if I was a liar. He said, “That’s not it, is it? I think you have had more than one partner in your life, haven’t you?”

Ok, now this man is reading my mail—but it was true. His tone was more insistent, he said, “I want you to confess everything to her. How many people you have had sex with and their names.”

Three years earlier I had lost my virginity when I was raped by a friend’s father. True, I had a couple partners since then, but not the whole football team. I told my mother about who I’d been with, and cried as I asked for her forgiveness. The man’s face had no emotion when he accused, “That’s not all of it, is it? There is more that you are not saying.”

I looked to my right to see the woman with him rocking back and forth on the couch as she prayed quietly under her breath. I gave it some serious thought, and then said, “Nothing she is not already aware of—no, nothing.”

He looked at me as if I was a smart aleck kid, which I was, but this was becoming redundant, and when I looked at my mom it appeared she was thinking that too.
Then he said, “I am going to pray for you. You have demons that are trying to attach themselves to you.”

“Pray for me now.” I hastily said. The last thing I wanted was demons attaching themselves to me. His tone grew colder as he looked past me to the clock behind me and said, “No, we will wait for midnight.”

Mom got a funny look on her face, and the honey-colored woman’s whispers grew louder. I was feeling a bit frustrated. We still had a while to wait. I was anxious for it to be all done and over with to rid myself of whatever it was that was hindering my walk with God. In the meanwhile, he kept preaching to me, except it was more like he was stabbing me with his words. Although I was still looking at him out of respect, I began to tune him out. Tick-tock, tick-tock, all I focused on was the ticking of that old clock. He stopped as if he knew what I was doing, and I promise, his eyes looked blacker as time passed. Finally he looked at the clock again, smiled, and said, “It’s time.”

We stood in the middle of the living room. My back was to my mother who was sitting on a chair behind me; the meek little woman with him still sat on the couch to my right. He was in front of me, and when he placed his extra-large hands on my forehead I threw my hands in the air and began praying in tongues believing he and I both were praying for my deliverance. All of a sudden he stopped and looked at me as if I had my finger up my nose, and said, “You need to stop praying in tongues. The demons are trying to attach themselves to you even stronger through your spoken words.”

He laid his massive hands on me again, gripping my shoulders as he prayed even louder. His wife now prayed loudly with him, like she truly had a voice. I stopped praying out loud, but continued to pray in my spirit.

Again he stopped praying, “You need to clear your mind. Clear it of all that is in it.” I did as he said, and abruptly became confused as the sound of many voices came rushing through my ears like a strong wind. The definition for confusion is: a state of disorder, bewilderment, embarrassment, the failure to distinguish between things, chaos [New World Dictionary]. I was suddenly all these things, and more, I had no control; I could no longer determine whether minutes or hours passed as I lost all sense of time. Nor could I remember any longer how to pray for my own salvation, and I was terrified. I tried to focus on the praise and worship music Mom had on continuous play in her office.

The stranger towering over me began to push my head backwards and my neck hurt from the strain. I don't know how long he did this, but it seemed like hours, and it didn't seem he was going to let up. I tried to show him my pain through my eyes, until I finally cried, “You are hurting me.” All he did was to push my head back even harder until it felt like my neck would break, and yell, “I rebuke those demons speaking through you. Be silent!”

Mom didn't look too comfortable with it all. Finally she stood up and said in a loud voice, “Stop! You are hurting my daughter’s neck.”

He stopped praying and dropped his hands back to my shoulders. He looked toward my mother, and said, “This is going to be a huge battle.” And then he boomed, “In the name of Jesus of Nazarene!”

Mom looked confused, “Don't you mean Jesus of Nazareth?”

“No! I mean Jesus of Nazarene.”

My mother's piercing blue eyes looked even more concerned for me, and from that point on there was no stopping the war that was ahead. My mind filled with accusing voices, and as time passed, the voices were even louder in my head, and as they grew louder, my body became weaker and weaker. And then with a sudden push of his large hands I was on the floor with him kneeling beside me. He looked deep into my eyes and what I saw when I looked directly into his eyes made me cringe. His eyes were no longer shining and inviting. They were cold, dark and cruel. Where was the friendly hip-hop rapping, Bible-Stomping man that I met earlier?

His roaring voice held me as he prayed words of condemnation over me, spitting on me with every word he said. My skin literally felt as if it were crawling. My whole body began to shake.  I felt as if there were two of me. One was fighting for my salvation, my sanity, and my very life. The other slithered on the floor like a snake or a wounded animal. The very air was so thick that night with deception and confusion. I don’t know whether it was I or the demons he accused me of having, but from somewhere deep within, I yelled, “NOOO!”

The large man laid his huge body out full length on top of me, crushing me under his heavy weight. My mother got up out of her chair and now hovered over him, watching closely and praying desperately in the spirit. Again he rebuked the demons he said spoke within me, still spitting and yelling as he prayed. I tried to cry out, “I can’t breathe. You are crushing me.” I don’t know if those words were coming from deep inside me, or if they actually passed through my lips.  And then finally Mom said, "Get up off her!"

For the third time the man stopped praying, in an attempt to divert her, he spoke directly to my mother, “They are trying to attach themselves through the music. Please turn it off.” I was shocked when she did as he asked and turned off the praise and worship music. Now I no longer had any control over what was happening to my mind. The man was loud, the woman was loud, and I felt like I was hanging by a thread that was about to break. And then it did. I was lost. Still, somewhere from deep inside me I called out to Jesus. By that name, and only through that name, I held on to that frayed thread with all the strength I had.

Then all of a sudden I heard my mother’s voice. It was like she was yelling; quoting scriptures to me through a tunnel, and soon it was the only voice I heard. It’s not that the man or the woman with him got any quieter. The Lord tuned them out to where all I could hear was my mother quoting scripture to me. It was like being thrown a life preserver in the middle of a raging ocean. At last I had something to hold onto. I began repeating each verse in my mind along with her. She’d say, “Say the name of Jesus,” and in my mind, I began saying Jesus, Jesus, JESUS! Somehow I managed to crawl over to her, and when she sat back down I laid my head on her lap. With my mother's fingers passing over the words written in the Bible, she said, “Repeat this scripture after me, there is power in the Word of God.”

I repeated along with her... “Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest. Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me. Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom. Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit. Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee. Deliver me from blood guiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation: and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness. O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall shew forth thy praise. For thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it: thou delightest not in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” Psalm 51:2-17

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7

The man looked at her, and ordered, “Stop talking to her, stop praying!” But my mother kept right on praying in tongues and pleading the blood of Jesus over me, and I held onto her words like a starving child holds a crust of bread. As the faint light of morning began to break forth the stranger seemed to grow desperate, “Do you have any pets?”

She answered, “We have a dog and a cat.”

He responded with, "Where are they?"

"In the backyard."

He angrily yanked me up from the floor, and led me toward the back door with Mom following close behind. Sheba, our beautiful Sheltie was in the backyard. When she saw me through the kitchen door window she began jumping up against the door, happy to see me. Then she began tilting her head side to side, her eyes looking as if she was wondering what was wrong with me. “I am going to command the devils to go into this dog.” The man yelled. Open the door so I can cast the demons into the dog.” But my mother refused.

“You are a witch,” he began to tell me, "Say it, say it! Say you are a witch!" And now with authority like never before my mother said, “No! Renounce those words in Jesus name.”

I did as she said, “I am not a witch. I belong to Jesus and I am covered by the blood of the Lamb.”

Throughout the night the man had a way of holding me captive with his words, but as daybreak finally dawned and I continued to declare the Word of the Lord, his accusing words seemed to lessen in power. Being a child, I still wanted to respect him with my attention, but after all he put me through that respect went out the window. I continued to interrupt him. “We have church this morning. I need to sleep before we go.” Then I went to my room and cried out to the Lord, "God, I don't want to be a witch. Please forgive me for all I have done.”

My mother continued to speak to the man and his wife after I went to my room, "You need to leave."

Heading for the door, he said, "We'll be back tonight to finish the deliverance."

“No you won’t. You will never step foot inside my house again. You are not of God. YOU ARE THE WiTCH!”

He looked at my mother as he stepped out of the door, and said, “I feel sorry for you and your daughter. My wife and I will be praying for you.”

“No you won’t, I rebuke that in Jesus name.” And with that she shut the door in his face.

I couldn’t sleep. It was now light outside and time to get ready for church. I came out of my room feeling numb. As my mother and I talked she got up to open the curtains in our living room window. Outside the window was a sight like I have never seen before or since. Huge black crows covered our lawn, the bushes, the telephone wires, and our roof. They were so thick they looked like a black carpet, and they were no where else in the neighborhood except around our house. My mother and I began to pray and rebuke Satan from our home, and one by one the crows left. And then my mother embraced me and hugged me like she never had before.

At church my pastor preached a beautiful sermon, but I didn't have the strength to enjoy it like I normally did. I was exhausted from the events of the night before, and as the service closed I couldn't even leave my seat. As my mother waited patiently to speak to our pastor’s wife, I looked around to see everyone fellowshipping as they always did after service. It was like they were moving in slow motion. And then Mom and Laurie, the Pastor’s wife were moving towards me. I sat there not knowing how to tell her what had happened to me. Her smile soothed me like a healing balm on a gaping wound. I told her the story of what happened the night before word for word, and she listened intently.

“I am going to pray with you right now,” she said, placing her hand on my knees. I didn’t want to pray, or ever have anyone lay hands on me ever again, but I trusted Laurie with my life and my soul. She closed her eyes and began to pray with my mother praying along side her. Something happened in the spirit. It was like she reversed everything the enemy tried to instill in me. Then she said the words my mother said earlier, “I want you to renounce those words spoken over you." I did and I was free.

God’s word is true. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Psalm 30:5

Neither my mother or I could understand how things got so quickly out of control that night. Later I would find out several things that allowed this horror to play out. First was inviting the stranger and his wife into my home. Second was sharing a meal with them. A shared meal with someone is a covenant. Thirdly, the hours in which the man chose to pray were witching hours when they cast their spells and make their sacrifices. The stranger was not trying to cast demons out of me, he was trying to put them in me. The demons working through this man thought they had the right through generational curses and I was at the age they wanted to claim me as a witch. But he failed to put the demons in my dog, he failed to put the demons in my cat, and he failed to put the demons in me.

"And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers. For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ" Ephesians 4:11-12.

People, just as God has a call on each of our lives, the devil has an assignment against our future generations, our children. Remember that people like this man are spiritual predators assigned to instill corruption. They want to pervert the gifts God has placed within us, and to destroy our future generations. But GREATER is HE that is within you than he that is in the world!

Submitted: July 15, 2010

© Copyright 2021 DarkrDrmr. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:


Stormbird Throneshaker


Mon, May 21st, 2012 3:49pm

Facebook Comments

More Non-Fiction Short Stories

Other Content by DarkrDrmr

Short Story / Non-Fiction

Short Story / Religion and Spirituality