STORMY FOSTER RETURNS: Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: “LIVIN’ ABOVE YOUR HEAD.” TIME + PLACE: THE YEAR 1991 @ CASTELLO DI DIAMONTE, VENEZIA, ITALIA.

Money? I’ve got plenty. Jewelry? I don’t need any more. Houses? No more this year, thank you. Fame? It just keeps growing; no need to worry about losing it. Status? That’s growing, too. Security? I’ve never needed to depend on anybody but myself. Men? I can have as many as I want, any time I want! Beauty? Alexandra Diamond has always had that, and I always will.

All of the things people crave, that they connive and fight and lie and die for - all of that is currently in my grasp. However, what someone told me years ago is very true: you come to a point where everything you possess just becomes a crashing bore! You don’t need new acquisitions, and what you have is no longer exciting. Ah, but then there’s power. I’ve got a lot of power, but I want more. So much more! I’ll never get enough, and it will never cease to thrill me.

Deep within the life essence of Jonah Blossom - better known as the Rap singer Stormy Foster - there is power pristine. More raw power than I have encountered in any Wiccan! Only Sabrina’s sorcery is comparable; I know because that sorcery now resides within me. Soon, very soon, Jonah’s dormant abilities will be mine as well!

My challenge is to fully unlock access to both reservoirs of power. When I do and unleash those forces, I will be a motherfucking grand empress of black magic. Just the anticipation of that day is my greatest thrill.

How fortunate for me that the late Julie Briseño’s daughter is a slutty dyke with a latent taste for cock! She couldn’t get enough of my brother Desmond and ended up pregnant; but baby Jonah was meant to be my bundle of joy, not hers. I would have snatched that half-breed brat right out of his crib if not for the interference of Della Nightshade, his maternal great aunt.

THE CHRISTENING OF JONAH BLOSSOM IN THE YEAR 1972.

Her nigger faggot cousin-in-law Ambrose Nixon alerted her to the child’s existence! She whisked him away to The Sorcerer’s Realm where I couldn’t follow, to be raised among his Wiccan relatives; but that's no place for anyone who isn't a sorcerer born. Julie tried to tell them as much, but the dumbasses were too dense to understand! The Bella Donna family was obliged to return Jonah to earth as a young man.

No doubt by decree of the elders, his memories of them and of his early life were erased. At that time, Della became his unseen benefactor, seeing to his needs until he found his feet and could survive on his own.

She wasn’t quite out of the picture yet when I learned that Jonah was back among mortals. In the early 21st century, I finally located him. He was working as a deejay at a dive bar called The Pop Culture Cantina! I reached out to seize my nephew, but Della intervened - goddamn her slant eyes! And that half-Chinese bitch did it over and over again. She kept Jonah away from me by dropping him on different continents, into different countries and different decades of the 20th and 21st centuries. That forced me to pursue him around the world and through the time stream, but he was never more than just out of my reach. I could always determine his whereabouts!

The spell I cast on Jonah when we met in the late 2020s enabled me to trace him anywhere. The roots of that hex are sunk so deep within his soul, it’s all but impossible to reverse! That stupid Chink bitch thinks she reversed it, but she only concerned herself with the zombification aspect; and as she’ll presently learn, she even failed to disable that! Della Nightshade practices Wicca in a half-assed way, a trait that she fortunately passed down to her daughter!

Ah, Sabrina. You were never more than a minor irritant to me. You know that now, don’t you? Your power is truly awesome, but your ability as a sorceress is inferior to mine; you were too arrogant to realize it! That arrogance led you to believe that you had imprisoned Carmen Serna’s spirit in the Seventh Void. Twice I fooled you into thinking that you had eliminated me, and as fools always do, you died at my hand! Then your spirit attacked mine, but you never dreamed that I could best you in spiritual hand-to-hand combat. Ha! The scream of your dying soul was sweet music to my ears . . . but I didn’t let you die. I spared you a tiny spark of life!

THE THREE FACES OF ALEXANDRA DIAMOND.

Now what remains of your spirit cowers helplessly in a corner of my mind. I could and would snuff it out forever were it not for the magic power still locked inside; your resolve has proven damnably strong but little by little, year after year, I can feel you weaken. You must surrender the key to your witchcraft in order for me to possess all of it! Very soon, you will do so and that lock is open - you miserable bitch of a bleached blonde - you will cease to exist. How could the Universal Coven have ever seen fit to appoint a headstrong, second-rate cunt like you as Witch Queen? It’s glaringly obvious that you were never worthy of that crown.

You're a born loser, Sabrina! And your mother, your cousin, your infernal cat Salem and your best friend Alexandra are ten times as pathetic. From the moment you entered my mind, I’ve been aware of your plan to capture me. Your feeble efforts to cloak your thoughts made me burst out laughing again and again!

Rosie Nixon’s ludicrous attempt to impersonate Alexandra was also hilarious - not to mention Xandie herself, masquerading as that dizzy witch, Dagmar. And Della Nightshade pretending to be a rock star? Too ridiculous for words! She sings like a fucking screech owl. Had those guises not been such a source of amusement for me, I’d have killed them all on the spot. Your demise allowed a patient side of me to emerge that I never knew existed, Sabrina. For three decades, I've been content to wait for my ultimate conquest!

The best example of that is how I've dealt with the bogus Stormy Foster. Knowing that I could bring him to heel any time I wanted to, I gave him the run of his leash for a while. Wouldn’t it surprise that limey kike faggot Albert Fox to know that his Rap songs are all my compositions? Who is better equipped to make a joke out of gender-affirming care than me? Jonah’s Rap flow may be phenomenal, but he’s no poet: A kindergartner could write better rhymes than he can.

Jonah remembers me as Cheryl Blossom, but he'll find his Aunt Alexandra far more memorable - and dominant. The time draws tantalizingly near when he fully submits to my will! It’s been so much fun, toying with all of you like a jungle cat toys with a herd of deer; but now the tigress is ready to pounce on her prey! I always wanted that moment to be dramatic, Sabrina, and the showdown that your clown car of allies has devised fits the bill quite nicely.

Even now, Jonah is rehearsing a Rap performance that he will never deliver. He will say and do exactly the opposite of what his handlers expect; and instead of Alexandra Diamond being thrown into a reckless rage that facilitates her downfall, her outwitted enemies will be subdued and dispatched by her Soldiers of Mercy!

Die, bitches! Your executions will be agonizingly long and drawn out. I look forward to personally supervising them; and when you bitch-ass motherfuckers are all laid out cold and dead, nothing and no one will stand between me and the boundless magic power that I alone deserve.

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