I always knew I was destined to be a voodoo queen. It was in my blood and it was my heritage. My great-great grandmother was the first Queen of the family and her healing practices kept our family healthy and the spirits happy. Over the years it has been obvious my place in the family traditions was my talents for dance. I entered my first trance like state when I was nine and was able to resurrect the entire garden. The garden had been decimated by a flock of locusts and now our family had the vegetables we depended on to eat. From then on, I was looked at as royalty, a shaman of sorts.
Others came to me for spells, for cures and often asked me to conjure an entirely new life which often included a younger and better looking significant other. Many told me I was their good luck charm, but I knew what I really was. A sorcerer. I held power over anyone and everyone knew I could cast a spell if they dared to interrupt my daily ritual. I knew our neighbors believed I was the ring leader of our ‘cult’ and for the most part they left me alone. Alone to rule the underworld as I saw fit.
Standing Room Only 