The Threat of the Crystal Skull

  

 Puedes leerlo en Español aquí

“There’s something in the air telling me to do it, do it, do it.”

—Arturo Accio

 

“There are things that are better left unsaid, not yet,” Marietta said, pausing to take a sip of coffee. “And some that are better left unsaid. It’s better that way.”

I nodded, resigned to the fact that some of my questions would go unanswered, as the waitress took away my previous cup, and I set aside the book of poetry by Arturo Accio that I had been reading while waiting for Marietta to bring me a second cup. Under her apron, the girl wore a green t-shirt, the uniform of the National Team. The World Cup was a widespread obsession.

It was the first time I had seen Marietta Là-bas in person, and it didn’t surprise me that she attracted the attention of those who had just entered Madoka. Contrary to what some might assume, her height and figure weren't the main reasons, but rather her attire: a tight-fitting, short dress of intense red, and a matching cape, which, even with the hood folded back, was still an unusual garment, to say the least. Red-framed glasses completed an image that couldn't go unnoticed. I noticed a change: her hair was black again. The first time I saw her, a year earlier, in a photograph, she had similar black hair, although shorter; the portrait I took of her for the book Snowy’s Collar, using that photo as a reference, depicted her that way. But shortly afterward, some videos, and a video call, showed her as a blonde woman; when I asked her about it on that occasion, during our first direct communication—she in Milan, I in Guadalajara—she explained that her hair was naturally blonde; Before that, she had worn a wig to resemble her grandmother, Celeste, whose style and alias—used when she was part of the resistance during the Nazi occupation of France—she had inherited: Lady Satan.

Her hair really did look natural. Leaving aside some women's penchant for changing their hair color, I suspected that her intention from the beginning had been to conceal her true natural color. Her eyebrows were dark, though. When she told me her last name, however, I assumed it was a pseudonym inspired by J.K. Huysmans; but when I looked for information about her, however scarce, what I found confirmed her family name. Given her subversive activities, I found it strange that she wasn't concerned about concealing her identity, and I brought this up with her.

"We're not in a comic strip," she replied; "these days it's almost impossible to hide the identity of certain people and organizations. But there's no real risk to anyone."

In the seat next to her, still looking at her cell phone, Tamara Drew cleared her throat.

Marietta looked with a crooked smile at the short-haired blonde girl who had come with her. For more than six months, she had taken Tamara in as her partner in many of her activities and, above all, as an apprentice in the ways of the Italian lineage of Stregoneria, or Witchcraft, to which her family belonged. Tammy was, in turn, the heir to another notable lineage, the Drew family of Appalachia, to which the renowned paranormal investigator, Dr. Desmond Drew, had belonged. But alongside her personal practice of Neopagan Witchcraft, Tammy followed in the footsteps of another ancestor of hers who had been immortalized in popular culture: Detective Nancy Drew, whose adventures in the 1930s had been novelized by Carolyn Keene, just as Will Eisner had chronicled Dr. Desmond Drew.(1)

"You're safe in that regard," Marietta assured her. "That's why there are some things I do on my own." But the kind of people who would be interested in stopping me aren't mafias; they do things directly. I interest them, you don't.

"Now it turns out I'm not interesting," Tamara retorted, placing her cell phone on the table; although it was obvious she wasn't serious, it was just casual sarcasm.

"Nothing makes you happy."

"Speaking of mafias," I interrupted, "in this country we do have their equivalent. Can you tell me what they came here to do, or is it also too unsafe to say?" Marietta adopted a more serious demeanor.

"Right now your city has a serious problem with the water supply."

"Yes, sewage mixed with the drinking water. And it's loaded with mercury, lead, and heavy metals. The director of SIAPA (2) hasn't shown his face..." I interrupted myself, thinking about it. "Aren't you saying that...?"

"Again, there are things that are better left unsaid. Maybe later." I thought about it for a moment, shook my head, and asked:

"So, you were saying we're waiting for someone?"

"She arrived a couple of minutes ago, she's ordering a drink," Tammy said, pointing toward the café counter. I turned and immediately recognized the girl standing with her back to us, talking to a waitress; copper-skinned, with short, slightly spiky black hair, jeans, a black top, and a long purple scarf despite the heat. "I think she anticipated how slow the service is now that the staff is distracted by a World Cup program on TV," Tammy added. "At least they have the sound turned down."

A moment later, Jenny Everywhere turned around and approached our table with a smile.

“Hi!” she greeted Marietta with a hug, and me with a gesture, as Marietta introduced her to Tammy. “Didn’t Viveros come?”

She was referring to my friend and fellow writer Héctor Viveros; we had both met her almost a year ago. (3)

“He had another commitment,” I explained. Jenny sat down and began rummaging in her bag; she pulled out a piece of paper folded several times and handed it to Marietta.

“Here’s what I promised,” she said. She proceeded to explain that the young Belgian journalist they had met in Missouri a year earlier had asked her to give it to her when he learned he would see her there. Marietta spread it out on the table: it was a map; an island was depicted in detail on it. Tamara and I leaned over to look as well, and I noticed the name of the place written at one end: Lamb Island. This surprised me. Lamb Island, a small private island whose owner, the famous psychic Ari Heller, had transformed into a symbolic nation, whose nominal citizenship could be acquired, in the form of a diploma, with funds raised for various charities. Why did Lady Satan need it?

"What are you planning to do on the island?" I asked. "Is that something you might want to know?"

"Lamb Island is private, and it belongs to Ari Heller," she said; I realized I hadn't mentioned knowing this, but I didn't want to interrupt one of Marietta's rare communicative moments. Her French accent was almost imperceptible. "You do know him, right? The psychic who became famous in the 1970s and made bending spoons with telekinesis his trademark, even during a live television broadcast."

"I remember him," I said. "I still have a spoon that got twisted when my mother and grandmother saw him on Mexican television."

“Months ago,” Marietta continued, “when the war against Iran began, Heller offered it to Ronald Drumpf to establish a base there for his air strike force against the Iranians.”

“That’s the opposite of what he said he wanted on his island,” Tammy pointed out, shaking her head. “He presented it as a symbolic ‘country’ of harmony for all humanity. It’s a good thing that proposal didn’t materialize.”

“It didn’t materialize, as far as we know,” Marietta corrected. I looked at her, surprised.

“So something was done in secret…?”

“That’s what we intend to find out.”

“What’s up with these rich people and their private islands?” Jenny complained. “I’m not offering to accompany them; I had enough of islands with the visit to Eppenstein Island a few weeks ago.” My gaze drifted to the book of Arturo Accio’s poems on the table, and I was about to make a silly, humorous comment, but I fell silent when I looked at Jenny. Her face was troubled by the memory of some experience she'd had there. From what I knew of her, she must have been used to many things; but that island had been the scene of some of the most terrible events. My imagination tried to guess what they might have found, and I blocked those thoughts as best I could.

"We'll manage," Marietta said.

"And what else have I done, Heller?" Jenny asked. "Is she still giving Drumpf psychic support?"

"It seems she occasionally visits Israeli troops to encourage them," Tammy replied. Jenny looked at her, puzzled.

"Israel?"

"Ari lives in Jerusalem," Tammy explained; "that's why she's so vehemently opposed to Palestine."

"Obviously, she supports Drumpf not because she's pro-American," I added, "but because Drumpf has been supporting Israel's interests." He was the only president who gave in to Neshayahu's insistence that North America support them in their war. I can't believe that so many in Israel support an alliance with a regime that has the full backing and participation of its neo-Nazi movements. That's truly making a pact with the devil, in the popular sense.

"And it's only thanks to that that we find ourselves now in World War III," Jenny finished, crossing her arms and leaning back. Just then, the waitress placed a latte and toast in front of her, and her face lit up.

I had followed Ari Heller on Facebook for several years; in fact, I had applied for citizenship on his island because I liked his project, but I had withdrawn my application after seeing the video in which Heller offered the island for Drumpf's troops. I took out my phone and looked at his profile. I didn't expect to find a direct mention of Mexico recently posted by him.

“Now she’s really gone too far,” I said. They looked at me curiously, but I kept reading for a few seconds until Jenny gave me a gentle nudge. Then I said, “I’m looking at the post Ari just made a couple of hours ago. She posted a picture of herself holding a crystal skull, like the one Pancho Villa and Ambrose Bierce supposedly had. (6) And he says…” I began to read the post aloud, “‘Friends, I’m going to grant the England team the ultimate power to beat Mexico next Monday! I’ll do this with the help of an ancient Mexican crystal skull! I’ve kept this relic for many years, which could very well be of extraterrestrial origin, ever since I discovered it telepathically, hidden in a Mayan pyramid.’ At this point, I paused and pointed out, “By the way, a few years ago, I had already posted pictures of that skull; on that occasion, I didn’t say anything about having ‘found it telepathically.’” She claimed that Mexican President López Portillo had given it to her as a gift, and that he had told her it was found in a pyramid. (7) This time she's altering her story to add drama. I continue reading: “‘I intend to use the supernatural energy it contains to take England to the quarterfinals. Of course, I don't perform miracles or become a prophet, but I will do everything in my power! But you should know that conspiracies are already underway to sabotage the England team: Mexican cartels have placed billions of bets on Mexico's victory and will stop at nothing, not even violence. They are even trying to change the start time of the match to noon, in the middle of the hot season! The sabotage has already begun. I have noticed that Mexican fans, even some journalists, are trying to disrupt England's preparations. They hope to make public the location of the hotel where the players are staying so that Mexican fans can party all night, making it impossible for them to sleep and rest the night before the game. Believe it or not, I have a Mexican passport and I was a Mexican federal secret agent for President López Portillo, who granted me Mexican nationality!’ Here he tags the manager of the England national team,” I clarified. “‘I know what I’m talking about! Don’t take any risks! Reinforce security measures for the players and fire all the Mexican bodyguards immediately. And don’t trust the food, it might be poisoned! Bring your own food.’”

“Wow,” Jenny said.

“How outrageous!” Tamara exclaimed. “He’s recommending firing the Mexican bodyguards overnight? He could put innocent people out of work because of his paranoia. Can I see that?” I put my phone in her hand.

“Well, he is psychic,” Jenny shrugged. “And I’m sure the drug cartels are amateurs.”

“It would have happened many times before if they did that kind of thing,” I pointed out. “But he’s talking about his actual intention to interfere with the results through magical means; he’s simply assuming that if he’s capable of that, the cartels can try it in their own way.” “He’s a psychic, not a magician,” Marietta corrected me. “Anyway, we have to put this in context. Heller is a celebrity; his opinion carries weight. And as someone who has publicly supported Drumpf’s racist regime, what he’s saying is a smear campaign against Mexicans, and he intends to back it up not only with his ‘hunches’ but with his personal knowledge of Mexico. If he didn’t do this, say, during the previous World Cup, then it can’t be a coincidence that he’s doing it right now, when MAGA has gained strength and Drumpf has been threatening military intervention in Mexico, using the cartels as justification.”

“It’s magic he says he’ll do using his skull…” I insisted, but I was interrupted. “What are you doing?” Tammy was typing something on my phone. She handed it back to me with a satisfied smile. I looked at the screen: I had just replied to Ari Heller's post with the words "Marietta Says" and an image, a colored copy of the Lady Satan portrait I had drawn the previous year, to which I had added the text, "It's on, b****!" "Hey!" I protested. "But this is from my account!" Tammy shrugged.

"Ari brought it on himself; let's see how we get it."

Marietta looked at what Tammy had written and raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't have to use my first name," she said. "Anyway, we have more important things to do than a football match."

Tammy looked at her without abandoning her somewhat boastful attitude.

"Look at it this way," she said. "Like Jenny says, Ari is psychic; if his senses warn him about you, he'll think you're just going to counteract his influence on the match, and he won't suspect that we'll be on his island." Besides, admit it, doesn't he deserve for us to ruin his attempt to stick his spoon into the championship?

Marietta bowed her head, her expression showing how impressed Tammy had been.

“I can’t argue with that,” she conceded. “But anyway, our priority is the island. I’ll leave the counter-spell for the match to you, though you know I’ll support you on it.”

“It’s going to be tough,” I pointed out. “Ari’s trick has always been manipulating people’s beliefs. He’d tell people, ‘Put a spoon in front of your TV; now concentrate on me, and I’ll bend the spoon’; and sometimes the spoon would bend. He’d get people to concentrate; there would be a lot of psychics watching a national broadcast. They’d bend the spoon themselves, and Ari would take the credit. In this case, he’ll have all his fans believing in his power, putting their faith in his skull work; and he’s surely counting on many Mexicans, particularly some players, to doubt him because they fear his powers are effective.”

“That’s why I put up the picture with Mari’s portrait,” Tamara replied. So, they know Lady Satan will oppose Ari, and they'll visualize her like in that drawing; on Monday we're going to work using the drawing as a focal point—she winked. Two can play the same game. Won't your coven want to support us?—she asked me suddenly—I think they have an advantage in this case…

I wasn't particularly interested in supporting a sports team, but I listened to her argument, and it made sense. I'll omit it for now; as Marietta said, there are some things that are better left unsaid… yet.

"You should have put 'Lady Satan' and not Marietta," Jenny agreed with Marietta's earlier observation.

"That way we don't scare off those who might be frightened by 'Satan'"—again, we had no arguments to refute her. At eighteen, Tammy had a remarkable understanding of magic and parapsychology; Marietta couldn't have taught her so much in just a few months. I could see why her mental agility was so well-suited to the detective work she intended to pursue.

"Well then," Jenny said, after finishing her second slice of toast, "I suppose we'll look into that matter of the city's drinking water tonight? I know you like to do everything at night."

Marietta took off her red glasses to clean them and smiled.

"Always."

The conversation moved on, but deep down, I kept thinking about the matter. The World Cup couldn't interest me less; but under these circumstances, for the first time, I hoped Mexico would win Monday's game. These were strange times…

Not the End...

The story continues in Murky Waters in Guadalajara

 

Credits

“The Threat of the Crystal Skull” Copyright © 2026 Luis G. Abbadie. Debe ser reproducida siempre acreditando al autor.

Tamara Drew is an original creation of Luis G. Abbadie, and first appeared in Nancy y el misterio del grimorio. Siete pasos hacia el Abismo (Tubal Albainn, 2026).

Lady Satan, originally published in Dynamic Comics 2 (1941) and 3 (1942) and in Red Seal Comics 17 (1946) and subsequent issues, her best-known version was created by George Tuska; she is in the public domain due to legal peculiarities.

The character Jenny Everywhere is available for anyone to use, with one condition: this paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, so that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.

Ari Heller was created by Gonzalo Martré and Víctor Cruz in “The Supernatural Golden Statue”, a story published in Fantomas la Amenaza Elegante 2-265 (1976); he is taken up again here as a tribute to the works of his creators.

The Available Heroes is a series of stories that bring back classic public domain characters, orphaned or open source, to face the challenges of today's world.

This is a work of fiction, in which any resemblance to real-life characters and situations is subject to the rules of parody, and is not intended in any way to constitute a faithful representation of reality. 

Notes 

1) Tamara met Marietta in Nancy y el misterio del grimorio. 

2) Intermunicipal System of Drinking Water and Sewerage Services.

3) In "Intermission 3.5"

4) The journalist in question is Tintin, and this took place in El collar de Milú - un misterio en tres centurias.

5) En Las Muchas Vidas de Octobriana: Tercera Guerra Mundial.

6) The link between both is explained in El último relato de Ambrose Bierce.

7) In a post dated August 26, 2023. 

The Devil's Prayer Book

Elizabeth Ann St. George, author or editor of The Necronomicon or the Book of Shades (see previous entry), also authored The Devil’s Prayer Book (Rigel, 1974, recently re-issued by Corvus –the same imprint as St. George’s Necronomicon- as The Rites of Shadow and this time, it seems, credited to St. George), which is apparently a non-entirely-accurate version of one of the several existing versions of the Gardnerian Liber Umbrarum or Book of Shadows, published by somebody who merely signed as “a Witch”; I suppose this is how parts of said book originally became known by the general public. I find it curious that St. George published the Book of Shadows anonymously and (I’m told, since I didn’t check that part when I briefly had the book in my hands) filled with overdramatic statements about how her life was endangered because the coven she stole it from would seek revenge (which is hilarious and insulting at once when we realize that she means a Wica coven, since, on one hand, they’d very likely have hexed her good and proper, but on the other hand would not have sent evil assassins on her trail as the book seems to suggest), when in later years she was a Wiccan teacher and high priestess, much loved by her students. The book, which I must admit I haven’t read in full but only skimmed through at one oportunity, appears to cast a few sinister overtones upon the entire Gardnerian trappings, but I can’t shake off the feeling that she wrote tongue-in-cheek.

It’s worth mentioning that St. George’s version of the Gardnerian BOS, including her adapted versions of the inner-circle names of the Lord and Lady, became the foundation of a lot of Wiccan recensions in Spain, something owed largely, I suspect, to Spanish best-selling occult writer, astrologer, and occult pop star Felix Llauge, known as “el Mago Felix” (Magus Felix, or perhaps Magician Felix, both thanslations apply). His books, which reflect his habits of using any magical system or method that crosses his path and jumbling it all together, actually contain some good stuff in the middle of the weird mix, and the Wiccan material usually comes from St. George’s book. I might be wrong in my assessment of Felix’s influence, but given his status as a loud mediatic celebrity, and prolific author,it seems quite likely that it was he that caused materials from The Devil’s Prayer Book to spread so much among Spanish magicians and New Age enthusiasts.

In regards to the names of the deities of the Wica, I noticed that MacMorrighan posted at Chas S. Clifton’s blog:

“the so-called ‘secret’ Gardnerian names for the God and the Goddess, which have been previously published, but almost NO ONE knows this-- they merely accept it at face-value, I think, that it's still an alledged Gardnerian ‘secret’. Anyway, according to my informants, who were both initially trained in Traditional Gardnerian Covens, Their so-called ‘true names’ were published in a few articles from the *very* early 70s in British Pagan magazines, as well as one book, which offers a very early look at Wiccan ritual: ‘The Devil's Prayer Book,’ recently re-published as ‘Rites of Shadow’. This is an absolutely lovely book!”

I found this curious since said names, widely published by Felix Llauge in Spanish-speaking countries, were said by a Wiccan initiate to be actually inaccurate, with the order of the syllables altered if I remember right. This occurred at the community Sendero Pagano back when it was hosted in MSN (I believe it still holds archived copies of old debates). While the reader would probably recognize the name of the person who told us this, I’ve seen some of his flamers at work so I’ll omit his identity to keep things cooler. What I find intriguing is that while he considered the names as modified, MacMorrighan’s informants appear to acknowledge them as accurate. Not such a big deal, of course; I suppose that, if the names are truly accurate, some branches of Gardnerianism changed them in order to mantain secrecy of their inner workings, or maybe the names were changed by some outbranching groups in order to have a distinct praxis from their colleagues.

St. George’s ominous presentation of the Wiccan BOS is doubly strange when we consider that she presents her Necronomicon light-heartedly and mocking its sinister fame, even saying that Al Rashid’s ghost might accuse Lovecraft of character defamation!

I am intrigued by this. Maybe she merely needed an encore after revealing “the secret rites of witches” and finding “the” Necronomicon was just the right thing? Why and how did she publish this? Her autobiographical book, from what Daniel Harms describes of it in The Necronomicon Files, presents her as a ceremonial magician, yet in later years whe was widely known as a Wiccan; how does this fit the publication of the BOS? Also, did she confide anything to anybody concerning the origins of The Book of Shades? So many questions...

I find myself hoping that somebody who knew the late Elizabeth Ann St. George (she died in April 2008) will read this at some point and shed light on the matter?

E. A. St. George's Necronomicon

I’m sure I read somewhere that somebody commented on how Neo-Pagans had largely remained outside the entire phenomenon of Necronomicon editions, magick, and falsifications, until fairly late in the game. This is hardly so, of course; even the most widespread version of the Necronomicon, the Simon edition, was born at that beehive of Neo-Pagan activity, the Warlock Shoppe/Magickal Childe bookstore in New York, run by the Wiccan writer Herman Slater, who was of course directly involved in the book’s publication. However, that particular instance has been discussed to death and then some by Daniel Harms & John W. Gonce (The Necronomicon Files) on the debunking end, by Simon (Dead Names) himself as the foremost defender of the book’s authenticity, and endless articles, individuals, groups, online forums, etc., over the last decade.

Right now I’m thinking about the other versions of the Necronomicon presented by prominent Neo-Pagans. Now there’s an unexplored field of pointless bickeri- er, I mean, of enlightening debate!

Let’s take one such book; The Necronomicon or The Book of Shades, edited by E. A. St. George. This is a fairly intriguing book in several ways.

Harms’ and Gonce’s The Necronomicon Files have precious little to say abouth this edition (just like they do about any non-Simon version of the Necronomicon, of course). Daniel briefly speaks of Elizabeth Ann Saint George’s loosely-autobiographical Casebook of a Working Occultist, mentioning how she grew up in the West Indies, traveled much, and later started a psychic investigation firm, Spook Enterprises, beyond which “this book ranges from a serious account of her initiation into a Western mystery school to tales of chasing KGB agents with her family and friends, their dogs, and an archangel.” Daniel adds, cautiously: “Though I am hesitant to make such judgments, I believe that much of it was written in fun.” Very likely, I'd say, since she apparently has a lot of fun with her publications, as we'll soon see. Apparently, since daniel refers to her as a ceremonial magician of some sort, this autobiography does not mention that Saint George was also a Wiccan high priestess and teacher; I'd heard about her several times before I realized this was the same "St. George" of Necronomicon fame.

Daniel does commit a small mistake in quoting St. George’s brief introduction; he says, “the author comments that the work is also known as ‘The Book of Shades’” but St. George actually states that the book is titled The Book of Shades, and it is her who assumes that this book is the actual Necronomicon, a title St. George evidently attributed to it. An easy misreading, I guess, unless the text of the introductory note differs somehow between the original edition (by St. George’s Spook Enterprises, 1983) consulted by Daniel and the currently-available Corvus Books edition (2006) currently in my possession.

According to St. George, she fount the book in 1964 at the library of the deceased husband of a peruvian lady, Madam Ruzo, who translated it for her (it’s tantalizing to wonder whether there is any connection to the Peruvian occult writer and politician Daniel Ruzo; could this book come from his library?).

The Book of Shades is “the Book of Power of al Rashid of Sothis, whose sorceries have brought him renown in the eyes of men”, a devout muslim as well as a magician. No other biographical information is available in the brief work (actually a slim 26-page chapbook) but that doesn’t stop St. George from speculating freely about his life, education, and experiences.

Daniel points out that The Book of Shades “is unusual among Necronomicons in that it attempts to portray Alhazred as someone who knows of Islam” –very true! We do not find, for example, a single display of actual Arabic culture, folklore, or language in the writings of the Mad Arab in Simon’s Necronomicon. Donald Tyson’s Necronomicon: The Wanderings of Alhazred does display a lot of hard work documenting the book, but I did find it somewhat annoying that Tyson’s Alhazred was very learned in Qabbalah and Hebrew traditions but there was next to none mention of actual Arabic concepts other than ghouls (which were presented in Lovecraftian rather than Arabic fashion anyways). Still, St. George’s book doesn’t exactly try to portray Alhazred in any way whatsoever – St. George actually says that Alhazred was a misrepresentation of Al-Rashid! She further states that in its original Arabic form, the book was a long poem. Which it should if Alhazred/Al-Rashid was a sah’ir or poet!

Daniel further comments that “the book is too short to truly fulfill its intention.” Actually, that’s only true if we assume that its intention was to present a book that stands in as what we all expect when our mind conjures up the name “Necronomicon” –but I wonder whether that was the case.

I actually find it likely that this little book is no hoax perpetrated by St. George, but that she genuinely found it at Mrs. Ruzo’s home and was eager to publish it. The only reason to tag the book with the title Necronomicon is that at some point this little spellbook quotes a line that sounds suspiciously like Alhazred’s couplet “That is not dead which can eternal lie/And with the strange Aeons even death may die.” The Book of Shades actually says, “Thou shalt conjure the dead, using the names of their evil gods. They shall come forth, for they are not dead, but lie eternal, unto the time when death is vanquished. And they will come forth when thou callest them by their gods.”

Now, the book is translated from an Arabic manuscript; however, I wonder whether it was an ancient manuscript or actually a modern manuscript purporting to be a trannscription of an older work. What if it was the late Mr. Ruzo who authored the whole thing, and St. George merely trusted his widow’s word on the matter? It might also be an actual ancient grimoire in which Mr. Ruzo found a phrase that sounded a bit like the famous couplet and he conveniently tweaked it around (although the unlikely name Al Rashid of Sothis seems like a red flag; why would any Arab magician use Sothis, the Egyptian/Coptic name for the star Sirius, as his name or as the name of his homeland? Robert Temple’s book The Sirius Mystery had popularized the name “Sothis” in 1975. Just sayin’.

At any rate, how did St. George even know this was “the Necronomicon” if the book was in Arabic, and the only clue was a brief paragraph in the middle of the text? Presumably. Madam Ruzo said as much, maybe remembering what her husband used to say, or perhaps there were notes written in Spanish that mentioned either that the book was the Necronomicon, or quoting the text similar to the couplet and remarking on the similarity. St. George is all too brief on the matter. Of course, it could also be a piece made by her in good fun.

However, this was not Elizabeth Ann St. George's first forage into the troublesome activity of publishing "forbidden" books. But concerning her publication of a large portion of a Gardnerian Liber Umbrarum or Book of Shadows I'll speak at length in another post...

Starting off

I always knew that I’d return to my old role as chronicler of the Necronomicon, something I did nonstop for several years. From 1992 to 1999, I compiled a lengthy bibliography and history of the forbidden book; a history which encompassed fictions, facts, legends... I wrote a couple of pieces with information for Daniel Harms and he posted them at his old website The Necronomicon Files... -damn, I was going to add the link but it seems the domain is gone. Maybe Xastur ate it or something. Check Daniel's and John's book The Necronomicon Files instead-. I compiled my findings until that point in my chapbook El Necronomicon: Un Comentario (La otra Orilla, 2000, Mexico), which crammed (and I mean crammed) in 54 small pages, constituted an exhaustive expansion upon H.P. Lovecraft’s brief essay History of the Necronomicon, which left nothing out, with three appendices: one dedicated to Dr. John Dee and the various versions of the Necronomicon attributed to him –most notoriously, Liber Loagaeth, Grimorium Imperium and Lin Carter’s Dee Necronomicon– , another for the Simon recension, or Simonomicon, and finally one for a purported copy of Alhazred’s work rumored to have been found here in Guadalajara, Mexico (much as some people refuse to believe it, I did not author the quaint article I reproduced in said third appendix -which somebody reproduced here).

My work on the subject did not end there; it continued for several years, albeit growing sparse. A difficult situation which I had been facing for years came to a head, and with it came what I can only describe as a stroke of Fate, and I underwent profound changes, both in circumstances and as a human being. I left my ever-expanding chronicle aside (I kept compiling information but rarely worked on it), I left an important translation unfinished (another great regret), I stopped mantaining valuable contact with several people... but in the middle of it all, well, how shall I put it? Let us say that I was led to encounter Umr at-Tawil; that I went down seven steps and came back up; it wasn't really in a Necronomicon context, but what I mean is, what I experienced amounts to a rough equivalent. So, I almost fell to pieces, but I managed to rise and break through that which had been weighing on me for so many years.

Yes, I’m changed; people change a lot sometimes. I even stopped writing horror fiction for the most part, something that lasted several years. Don’t get me wrong; I still loved horror fiction and films, it was just that it wasn’t so easy to conjure horror up from within when writing. I learned something about myself; it was so easy to write about Lovecraftian cosmic horror because it resonated within me, it echoed my own deeply-buried worldview. But now, ever since the first, intense experiences I had, I learned one thing above all: there is a sense, a purpose, to everything. And where there is a purpose to life, there is no place left for true, Lovecraftian cosmic fear; not any longer.

The first time I managed to write a new Lovecraftian piece, last year, it was so exhilarating; it’s so very different, but it’s also like visiting old, dear friends. Yes, I will continue devising Yog-Sothotheries from time to time; I love them too much not to. And I am taking up my various Necronomicon projects, slowly, steadily. It is time; I am better prepared for it all.

I have several webs and journals, dedicated to Traditional Witchcraft (in Spanish), to literature (also in Spanish), my books, even my LiveJournal which is mostly dedicated to debunk esoteric frauds and, of late, my new series LOL-Cat-Astrophe 2012, which concerns a feline roasting of 2012 New-Ageish beliefs.

But here I will post whatever I have to say concerning Lovecraft, Cthulhu, grimoires and especeally whatever concerns the Necronomicon, Al Azif, in its various versions. As a writer of horror fiction, of Mythos fiction, contributing to this haunting world is always a pleasure; as a fascinated student of the pseudobiblia, I never cease to be amazed; as a witch, I am very interested in the magical (or magickal if it suits you better) undercurrents of Cthulhuvian grimoires and the various brands of Necronomicon gnosis.

Stick around; I intend to rock the boat.