The mountains above my valley are the seat of witchcraft for the entire west coast. There are many covens roosted here. Though the hills look lovely, the glens and shadowy places hide wicked goings-on. So up to the mountains I often climb to stand in the fields at the very top, and I shout as I look across the wide expanse of forest and the peaks to the sea beyond, “Jesus reigns over the Santa Cruz mountains!” I shout again until the darkness trembles at that glorious name. I shout once more, knowing that many hear my cry behind their shuttered windows.
God is here! God walks with me in these hills! His light shall penetrate the darkest hovel in these woods and there are witches who'll be saved. A light shall come into their gloom and lead them out; no more shall shadows hold them . . . and it all started with a shout.
Artwork: These Woods are Cursed © Linda Bergkvist