Here a Geas, There a Geas, everywhere a geas, geas, geas
Chapter 1.
Abrigal had always wanted to be an author. On her eleventh birthday August 10, 1860, her uncle Timothy had given her a journal. She remembered it like yesterday instead of a hundred and sixty years ago.
"Here you are Abrigal, now you can also write some of the family’s history you seem so interested in."
"Oh, she much too young for that," her father had told his brother. "She should at least wait till she gets married, then she will have things to write about."
"Well it for sure that her penmanship is better than my wife’s, just look at this list she gave me of things to do while visiting you." He waved a foolscap sheet that he unfolded for them to see. He was right, it look like hen scratches instead of writing.
That was the beginning of her writings. She looked fondly at the glass panel bookshelf where the journal her uncle had given her was stored. The first of one hundred and sixty volumes she had written, one for each year since then. Every since then she made sure that her writing was clear and legible. That went against the tradition of witches everywhere. She made sure that her grimories were clear and precise as well as being organized. Listing the items needed first, ritual to use, visualization, and finally the spell to use. Follow sometimes weeks later with the results.
Finally, she had decided to take the next step and become a published author. She had books on the art of writing. One of the things that she had found out was that to be successful one must write about what one knew. People who wrote about things they did not know soon showed themselves to be a fool. Abrigal was not a fool!
Therefore, like she always did she set down at her desk and began to list the things that she knew. Now that actually took awhile, she was one hundred and seventy one years old. That means that she had a lot of experiences and had done a lot of things. However, looking at her list it was obvious that the one thing she knew forward and backwards was Magic! After all, she ranked in the top ten practitioners of the Arts in the whole world.
Having seen some of the books printed on Magic she knew that she could had written better ones a hundred years ago. The ones that knew what they were writing about were sloppy and unorganized. She actually tried a few of their spells and could only make one in a dozen works! A lesser Adept would not have had any success at all.
Magic it was. Looking at her hundred and sixty journals Abrigal thought to herself, stop pussy footing around and calls a grimorie a grimorie, No, none of the more recent ones would do. Heck even most of the top Adept would not be able understand those works. Humm! I must start from scratch! I have never trained an apprentice, so I will write a grimorie for a beginner. Simple, precise, and organized just the way I wished that my great aunt’s grimorie had been. It had taken her weeks to decipher her first spell. However, from that time on she forged her own path.
She pulled some blank paper out of her desk drawer and began to write.
