I held my hand out in front of me; it was full of blood, dripping down onto the glyph I drew with chalk. A bag of salt made a large circle outside of the glyph. It remained complete; it remained true.
They say, “When summoning spirits, or seeking out knowledge that only the dead are aware of, you must be ready to sacrifice your blood.” I had been reluctant for far too long, tip-toeing between this world and the next, our parallel, and many others. I had delved into the past, and witnessed our world history, as well as my own history. I had read the words on the pages of the great books in my hall, and bore the wisdom of the future… but I had yet to take this jump, this leap of faith.
I took a step forward, and squeezed my hand tight. I turned around until blood sprayed between the chalk octagon. The blood mixed in with the drawing. My blood, it irradiated a strange energy. It was like I could feel the power. I stood in the middle, in my symbol, 2 horizontal lines in the middle, and two vertical lines running through the centre, meeting symmetrical half-horizontal lines on the top and bottom.
I smeared my blood through symbols on the outside; each one symbolising a different thing, a different person, a different ideal.
I was ready, I close my eyes, and moved my hands back in. I knelt down, and felt a gentle breeze caress my face. It took every ounce of concentration I had not to be provoked into opening my eyes. I had to see with my soul. There were more than just breezes around the room now. Some moved my hair, and pressed into my body.
“What have I done?” I pondered. I felt fingers touch my skin, and my hands elevate. I had to pull out a parchment, a note of the person I was calling. I pressed my bloody hand on it, before I was taken.
I was warned, “Blood acts like nectar to the souls on that side. When you bleed, with intention to call them, it is like offering them a feast. Always have a specific purpose; always have a clear mind.”
I re-affirmed my concentration and sang the words that sealed my fate…