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Witch of the Huron River

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The toad and paranoia... or is it?



Last night was the first actual night of the toad hanging. I was up late with Tuuli doing some research on the rite, because I've become entirely absorbed and obsessed with the toad. Is it safe enough from animals and people? did I sprinkle enough sulfur and cayenne around the area? should I poke a hole in the bottom of the bag so that the rain doesn't collect and drown the maggots? OMG of course, what was I thinking? I NEED to poke a hole in the bottom of the bag!


I couldn't stop it. And I've been overwhelmed with intuitions and subtle but firm communications with... with who? Hecate? Someone who is guiding me through the rite.


Months ago I had a dream where I was in the desert with an old man and a young boy. We were digging in the sand to find a golden statue of a toad. "you will no longer be afraid of spirits and the darkness. you will embrace it." Hecate told me in that dream. I had always struggled with my immense fear of the dark and the traumas of childhood with spirits. Through the next couple months I knew what was coming.


"tonight, not tomorrow in the bright morning, you will go into the dark swamp and poke a hole in the bottom of the bag." it told me last night. Sure, I said, seems easy enough.


As I was walking home the entire town was submerged in a thick fog. The darting and bold showing of specters only disturbed me slightly. The sounds of one following behind me disturbed me more. The overwhelming sound of squeaking in the air, everywhere, combined with the first two downright fucked with me. To top it all off... like a cherry on a cake, two skunks jumped out of the bushes right near my bare exposed legs and flipped out. And I flipped out. And they raised their tails and literally chased me, pepe le pew style, down the road.


That kind of startle mixed with the previous fealings made me feel like it would be impossible to get in that swamp and poke the fucking hole in the bag. Why couldn't it wait til morning? Surely just poking a stupid hole in the bag to let out the water wouldn't be so important as to make me fail at the rite. "No, but you whimping out and waiting until the safe of morning IS so important as to make you fail at the rite." You're right, whoever you are, but really? Skunks? Why? "deal with it and do it."


So I come up to the area and I just do it. A feeling of general releif and responsibility washes over me and I go in to get some fitful and apparently dreamless sleep, but only after I spent an hour in what felt like Limbo, like the hanged man. I couldn't "fly", I couldn't concentrate on any one thing. Only stare and feel. Feel... something. Or a whole lot of nothing. I felt like I existed and that I didn't actually exist and maybe I'm taking this too seriously? NO, no that's part of it... feeling like you should be more lax. Lax is failure. Stop this brain, ugh shut up and go to sleep! How can I sleep when I don't exist? Or am I already sleeping? SHUT UP you are sounding like a crazy fucker now! Keep it together and get some sleep!


This morning I didn't ignore the feeling to add more sulfur to the area and do some extra precautions to keep people from fucking with it. "because," it said, "keeping the toad safe is part of this and is entirely your responsibility. Someone or something takes it... you fail."

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