Once upon a time, there lived a conjurer named Lucas who was known far and wide for his incredible skills in performing magic tricks. He could make objects disappear right before your eyes and could even pull rabbits out of hats. However, there was one thing that Lucas feared more than anything in the world - witches. Ever since he was a child, Lucas had been plagued by nightmares of wicked witches casting spells on him. He would wake up in a cold sweat, unable to shake off the feeling of dread that lingered after these dreams. As he grew older and honed his skills as a conjurer, his fear of witches only intensified.
As he grew older and honed his skills as a conjurer, his fear of witches only intensified. Despite his fear, Lucas never let it hold him back from pursuing his passion for magic. He performed in front of large audiences, captivating them with his tricks and illusions.
Witches in Shakespeare
William Shakespeare, 1 Henry VI (1589-90; rev. 1594-95):
[Tal.] Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escaped the pride of France. (3.2.38-40)
[Puc.] Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me
And give me signs of future accidents. Thunder.
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,
Appear and aid me in this enterprise.
Enter Fiends
This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful regions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.
They walk, and speak not.
O, hold me not with silence over-long!
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
I'll lop a member off and give it you
In earnest of further benefit,
So you do condescend to help me now.
They hang their heads.
No hope to have redress? My body shall
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
They shake their heads.
Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
Then take my soul, my body, soul and all,
Before that England give the French the foil.
They depart.
See, they forsake me! Now the time is come
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest
And let her head fall into England's lap.
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. (5.3.2-29)
Puc. You judge it straight a thing impossible
To compass wonders but by help of devils.
No, misconceived! (5.4.47-49)
William Shakespeare, 2 Henry VI (1590-91):
[Duch.] Hast thou as yet conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,
With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? (1.274-76)
[Boling.] It shall be convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be busy below; and so, I pray you, go, in God's name, and leave us. (Exit Hume.) Mother Jourdan, be you prostrate and grovel on the earth. (She lies down upon her face.) John Southwell, read you; and let us to our work.
Enter Eleanor the Duchess aloft, Hume following.
Duch. Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this gear the sooner the better.
Boling. Patience, good lady, wizards know their times.
Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire,
The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl,
And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves,
That time best fits the work we have in hand.
Madam, sit you and fear not: whom we raise,
We will make fast within a hallow'd verge.
Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle; Bolingbroke or Southwell reads, ‘Conjuro te, &c.’ It thunders and lightens terribly; then the Spirit riseth.
Spir. Adsum.
M. Jord. Asmath,
By the eternal God, whose name and power
Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask;
For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence.
Spir. Ask what thou wilt. That I had said and done!
Boling. 'First of the king: what shall of him become?' (Reading out of a paper.)
Spir. The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.
As the Spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer.
Boling. 'What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?'
Spir. By water shall he die, and take his end.
Boling. 'What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?'
Spir. Let him shun castles;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
Than where castles mounted stand.
Have done, for more I hardly can endure.
Boling. Descend to darkness and the burning lake!
False fiend, avoid!
Thunder and lightning. Exit Spirit sinking down again. (1.4.7-40)
[Suf.] The duchess, by his subornation,
Upon my life, began her devilish practises:
Or, if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet … Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess
By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. (3.1.45-52)
William Shakespeare, Macbeth (1606):
Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches.
1. Witch. When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
2. Witch. When the hurlyburly's done,
When the battle's lost and won.
3. Witch. That will be ere the set of sun.
1. Witch. Where the place?
2. Witch. Upon the heath.
3. Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.
1. Witch. I come, Graymalkin!
2. Witch. Paddock calls.
3. Witch. Anon.
All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog and filthy air. Exeunt. (1.1.1-12)
All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about:
Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
And thrice again, to make up nine.
Peace! the charm's wound up.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo.
Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is’t call’d to Forres? What are these
So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
That man may question? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so. (1.3.32-47)
[Macb.] Now o'er the one half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. (2.1.49-56)
Macb. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags! (4.1.48)
William Shakespeare, The Tempest (1611):
[Pros.] This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did
They would not take her life….
This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died
And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans
As fast as mill-wheels strike. (1.2.263-81)
William Shakespeare, Richard III (1592-93):
Glou. Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight? (1.3.163)
Glu. Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm
Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up:
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore,
That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. (3.4.68-72)
William Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors (1592-94):
[S. Ant.] They say this town is full of cozenage,
As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches that deform the body,
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such-like liberties of sin. (1.2.97-102)
William Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor (1597; rev. 1600-01):
[Ford.] Out of my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage, you polecat, you runyon! out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you. (4.2.184-86)
William Shakespeare, Henry V (1599):
[Chorus] The cripple tardy-gaited night…
like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. (4.Ch.20-22)
William Shakespeare, Hamlet (1600-01):
[Mar.] Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. (1.1.158-64)
[Ham.] 'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. (3.2.388-90)
William Shakespeare, Othello (1604):
[Oth.] That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people. (3.455-58)
But deep down, he always worried that one day, a witch would reveal herself and ruin everything he had worked so hard for. Lucas had tried everything to overcome his fear - therapy, meditation, even attending witchcraft conventions to face his phobia head-on. But nothing seemed to work. The mere mention of witches would send chills down his spine, and he could not shake the feeling of impending doom. His fear had a significant impact on his career, as he was unable to perform tricks that involved witches or any form of witchcraft. He would turn down opportunities that required him to work with props or themes related to witches, fearing that his worst nightmares would come true. But despite all the setbacks, Lucas never lost hope. He continued to perform his awe-inspiring, witch-free magic tricks to the delight of his audiences. His skill and expertise were enough to keep his career flourishing, even without the inclusion of witches. Over time, however, Lucas began to realize that his fear of witches was slowly but surely fading away. Through perseverance and determination, he had managed to conquer a phobia that once consumed him. He now understood that his fear had been holding him back, preventing him from truly reaching his full potential as a conjurer. With his newfound confidence, Lucas decided to challenge himself and incorporate witch-related tricks into his performances. He practiced diligently, ensuring that he was prepared to face his fears head-on. When the day of his biggest performance yet arrived, Lucas took to the stage with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The audience was captivated by his mastery of illusions and eagerly awaited his next trick. And then, it happened - Lucas performed a mind-boggling trick involving witches. The crowd erupted in applause, amazed by his skill and courage. From that day forward, Lucas was no longer known as the conjurer who feared witches. He had conquered his phobia and emerged stronger than ever. His performances became even more exhilarating, as he fearlessly incorporated elements that once terrified him. Lucas proved that with determination and perseverance, one can overcome even the most paralyzing fears..
Reviews for "Lost in Fear: Unlocking the Secret Behind the Conjurer's Phobia"
1. John - 1/5 stars - I found "The conjurer who suffered from a fear of witches" to be extremely disappointing. The title promised an intriguing storyline, but it failed to deliver. The characters lacked depth and the plot felt disjointed. Additionally, the fear of witches aspect was barely explored, making the whole premise of the book feel pointless. I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone looking for a captivating and well-developed story.
2. Sarah - 2/5 stars - I had high hopes for "The conjurer who suffered from a fear of witches," but unfortunately, it fell flat for me. The pacing was incredibly slow, and I found myself struggling to stay engaged with the story. The characters were one-dimensional, and I didn't feel any connection towards them. The fear of witches element was introduced but never fully explored, leaving me feeling unsatisfied. While the concept had potential, the execution was lacking, making it a forgettable read.
3. David - 2/5 stars - "The conjurer who suffered from a fear of witches" had an interesting premise, but it failed to live up to its potential. The writing style felt amateurish, and the dialogue was often forced and unnatural. The story lacked coherence, jumping between different subplots without ever fully exploring any of them. The fear of witches aspect felt like an afterthought and was not properly integrated into the narrative. Overall, I was left disappointed and felt that the book had missed the mark in delivering a compelling and well-crafted story.