Asides

“Alex Sanders’ Legacy: skeletons in the cupboard

“Legacy: A gift from one who is legging it out to a vale of tears”. – Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary

It was just before the Winter Solstice and RevdScott had gathered us all in his front room after circle because he had something of grave importance to tell us.

Maxine needed our help but it had to stay a secret.

Her son Victor had been hospitalised in a care home in East Dulwich following a stroke. He needed 24 hrs care and his family could not cope. Maxine couldn’t make it all the way from Wales (which I found odd since she’s quite capable of making her way to London when she’s invited for festivities). It was simply too much for her, THEREFORE, this is where we being required to step in as her training coven, especially if we wanted to be seriously considered for 3*.

There was one among us who was visibly fuming from the ears. He cut RevdScott short and said: “If we are made to visit Victor then we should do the same for all others heroin addicts.”

At which RevdScott replied: “Yeah but you forget he’s Alex and Maxine’s son. He would have been the next King of the Witches.”

The point was that in spite of Maxine slating Paul Hardy for smoking a spliff now and her hard stance against drugs (even soft ones) among the priesthood, she had known about RevdScott cocaine addiction long before she agreed to let him have his 3* and start a working temple.

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Now the bombshell: her own son had been a heroin addict for years but of course, she had to keep it a closely guarded secret or the whole mythical narrative of healing and the Temple of the Mother would be exposed as a massive load of bullshit.

I just thought it was interesting how karma visited her, especially as she had been arrogantly pontificating on how the magic of the circle finds a way to push the unworthy out. This time, it seemed that the unworthy was no less than her own son, Alex’s own legacy, the inheritor of the title King of the Witches – a title, which in all fairness, Victor had never been interested in.

“Ohhh! He looks just like Alex!” – RevdScott would coo – “It’s the closest you’ll ever get to him (Alex).”

RevdScott always had a nauseatingly repulsive way to make his arguments.

Anyway, I was moved to visit out of curiosity. I really wanted to look at this Alexandrian legacy and size him up. Chris Moroz came with me and that afternoon he opened up like never before and I just knew the moment I cast my eyes on him that the whole tradition was, as I had been suspecting for more than a year, one massive parasitic hive.

This was so much more than a karmic backlash. I had never seen anything like it but I suppose that once you are on the initiatic path (which by the way it’s not to be confused with the ceremonial initiations of a tradition) as a magician you’ve got to be exposed to it and learn to deal with it.

My instinctive reaction was to recoil in disgust. I held my breath for as long as I could before pretending to wipe my nose with my sleeve just to block the pungent stench of urine and death permeating the room. It was like watching the biblical story of Nebuchadezznar playing out before my very eyes. It was too grotesque a scene otherwise. Victor was pacing the room grunting like an animal. Hardly a credit to the Witch Queen. When he turned and saw us standing there his face and mouth were twisted in a grimace dribbling saliva. His eyes were dull. His soul (or conscious being) was separate from the body. With the inner sight it looked remotedly distant. I felt genuinely sorry for him and angry, really angry with Alex and Maxine. This was their doing and there was a pattern. Granted, they were too stupid and self-absorbed to have any foresight of the magical consequences of their dabblings – like the moonchild he tried to bring to life (Michael). Nothing but a big fat parasite they had invited in to feast on whoever was involved with them.

Stupid man, the miser who upon his death left the contents of his left hand pocket to a woman who had been loyal to him, had cursed his own son, who had not willingly chosen to be the next King of the Witches. We all know what would happen to unworthy Kings when the crops did not come to fruition. Either ways Kings and sacrifice go hand in hand. Victor’s unwillingness mirrored another story we find in the Gautrek’s saga, where a king who tries to avoid sacrifice is claimed just the same, and that’s exactly what had happened to Victor. There’s no cheating Fate once the magic starts unfolding.

Alexandrians (at least the ones I’ve got to know well) tend to be very shortsighted and give little thought to long term consequences when it comes to working magic. We are encouraged to ask for things at sabbath (and like a cretin I went along with it to begin with, even though I wanted for nothing and said so; but I gave in to pressure and that was stupid of me) and work spells for shit we do not really need or could easily get through ordinary means. “Forget what you already know” – Scott used to say. Good job I’m disobedient by nature and think with my own head or he would have succeeded in destroying me.

“I see sacrifice for you” – he used to tell me.

That’s probably when he saw the look of death on my face I was so reknown for because whenever he uttered that phrase my mind would automatically conjure up this image of me splitting his skull in a half with an axe. “You think you’re above the law” – he would also tell me; meaning I thought the craft laws did not apply to me. Well, let’s put it this way: number one, my tutelary gods come before any law some crap a mortal came up with, especially when it’s clearly self-serving and we’re not talking about the law of the land (even though those are just as flawed). Second, wasn’t he the one who taught me the Time/Space/Event in which the Self is the Co-ordinator of the Cosmos? This makes me the law-maker of my own reality, so up yours and your laws RevdScott.

Chris and I went for coffee afterwards and sat for hours going over what we saw that evening. Chris knew Maxine and Alex since he was 14 and he’s now in his fifties. He agreed with my observation that most Alexandrian priestesses have fertility problems and if they are already initiated in that current and manage to have children, they are born with some health defect. If they already have children, they end up being seriously affected and whatever weakness they carry is exarcerbated by proxy through the unbalanced magic they perform.

Maxine fooled you all. She made you think she’s the ecstatic mother when in fact she is the mother of a son who turned into a vegetable through heroin addiction. She is in no position to teach, advise or heal anyone, since she could not be arsed to visit her own son in his dire need.

Once was enough for me. I never went back to visit Victor and the coven (they were not the fools Maxine thought them to be) soon grew tired of being her personal skivvy. The final straw was when she decided to move to St. John’s Wood and demanded we would redecorate her flat for free at our own expense. Fuck that! Did she really think she could take us for a ride? RevdScott could pay for it for all I cared but she wouldn’t and she didn’t see a single penny from me.