Red Witch of the Delta

In ancient times, red witches were healers whose power flowed with the moon, but in the Delta, one woman used that same blood-bound magic to feed the Devil instead of the Divine. 

Once upon a time in the backwoods of Mississippi, an old hag named Grandmama Rue made a pact with the Devil. You see, she was born with special gifts from the Most High—meant to heal like the ones before. But, along her discovery of self, someone showed her how to twist these gifts, how to wield them to get anything she desired—and fast.

Underneath the blood moon, she worked with a small cult to summon, and in exchange, they agreed to feed these dark entities the unawakened souls of the light. This was something the dark lord whispered to them every moon cycle. Just like a street pharmacist, he gave them a little taste of what it meant to serve him. Overnight, they were able to manifest small amounts of money and, for some, love.

They weren’t aware that these highs weren’t meant to last. 

Unbeknownst to these little witches, their souls would never be returned, for the more they fed, the more they needed to feed in order not to get devoured themselves.

“Who can we sacrifice next, Miss Rue?” Respect when speaking her name was what she demanded. To be the supreme red witch was the ultimate goal, and she was shown just how to make this move. 

“My daughter is pregnant with my first granddaughter,” she said. Her eyes roamed the room walls for a second as she contemplated whether she should continue. “And I was shown that her light is very special.”

She had their attention wrapped around her grubby, thick fingers so tight that a slight smile crept upon her face. “Immense riches and power are encoded in her DNA.”

Oohs and aahs erupted in unison, sending a rush through Grandma Rue’s spine. 

“What does this mean for us?” She paused to let out a loud fart, something she did often as she had no couth at all. Nothing about her was motherly or feminine, although these kinds of women she liked to surround herself with to give off the illusion. Those closest knew the truth. She stunk of vinegar and always chewed slimy okra with her mouth wide open. 

“What does this mean, Rue?” Beady-eyed Johnson always liked to repeat himself, but he also drank alot, so there was that. They say he drank himself stupid so severely that he can’t see or hear much these days.

“It means that we need to figure out how to harness her energy somehow. She will have a wild spirit, he says, one of rebellion, so not easy to tame. But if I can bind her before birth, it will make it easy to will her in my favor. We only have so long to do this before he returns!”

What she didn’t tell them was that she only had until before the granddaughter awoke to learn how to harness such powerful pure light. Otherwise, she would have to sacrifice herself.

—

Years passed, and tales of Grandmama Rue ran rampant in the small community where many feared her ruthless dark magic. She became known as that ole Hoodoo witch!

Nobody wanted to be the next soul on the chopping block, but what they failed to realize was that they were already her flying monkeys. Whenever a soul tried to run away, she would pull her magical strings, and off they would go to find her prey.

Little fools, you already belong to me! This thought she would growl to herself every time they had their monthly eclipse meetings. Her grinch-like expression became permanent, defiling her once somewhat attractive features. Happiness never found her. True love and success were no longer hers to own because harnessing the light and blessings of others using dark spellwork led to the forfeiture of what God already promised her. 

The ultimate cost of greed and lust.

But, she became so blind with control and power that she thought she was now God.

God became angry with this wicked woman, and her karma was set, but it would be years before she would realize this!

In the meantime, she kept racking up bad karma by setting her eyes on Lila, who was now a beautiful, wide-eyed soul. Friends flocked to her easily. Anything that she set her mind to, she did well. Oh, how Grandmama Rue despised this, but she also admired this.

I wish I were as beautiful and confident as her, she would repeat over and over in the mirror as her book of binding spells lay open on her lap.

Soon, Lila began to experience intense setbacks in her young life. She was no longer allowed to have friends—work, school, and church were the only places she was permitted to go. And even then, she needed to be on call for whatever Grandmama Rue wanted and needed. All of the household responsibilities were placed on her shoulders,s and if she complained, she got a beating either physically or verbally.

These were just a few of the tactics Grandmama Rue used to get her subordinates in order behind closed doors. People on the outside spread words of how wicked her grandmama was, but nobody ever dared speak up, for the few who had lives spiraled entirely out of control. Grandmama Rue was a beast of a bully to those she didn’t like.

And she never liked her granddaughter. She just loved her energy. And she wasn’t dying fast enough!

The spells only worked as long as Lila stayed close. Grandmama Rue became so worried about how to contain her, as she shone so brightly, that keeping her locked in doors became her go-to solution.

—

Then, one Sunday after returning home from being around her and feeling so drained, Lila began to realize how much better she felt the less time she spent around Grandmama Rue and her minions.

At first, she brushed it off—just normal family tension, she told her boyfriend. But the closer she grew to him, the lighter she felt. Love made her laugh louder, sleep more deeply, and dream more clearly. And every moment away from that house, the air seemed easier to breathe.

She started ignoring Grandmama Rue’s calls, claiming work was busy or her phone had died. But the calls never stopped. Ring after ring, morning and night.

“Why is she always calling me, asking what I’m doing?” Lila sighed one evening. “She’s so damn nosy.”

What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t have known—was that her grandmother housed an ancient demon whose power stayed strong only as long as its next sacrifices stayed close. It fed on nearness, on the hum of familiar voices and the scent of the living it meant to drain. Lila’s laughter, her joy, her faith—it was all nourishment.

And this demon wasn’t about to let her go so easily. Her light was too sweet, unlike any it had ever tasted. Thanks to Grandmama Rue, it had tasted plenty.

So, when the phone rang again that night, and Lila’s screen flashed 'Grandmama Rue,' something inside her froze. The air turned thick, and for a split second, she swore she heard a whisper crawl through the line before she hit decline.

Far away, in that crooked house at the edge of the Delta, Grandmama Rue smiled.

“You can run, baby girl,” she crooned, voice low and rusted. “But you can’t outrun blood.”

Outside, the moon burned red. The mirrors quivered. And somewhere deep in the bayou, something ancient stirred.

To be continued…

NM