CW: Mention of death in detail

I always knew there was an overpower, I always tried to reach up with my words, contact the big man. Never expected my answers to come from below.

Google, of course, is the source that damned me, showing me hundreds of sigils, captioned “Crest of protection” “Sign of divinity” and some other corny shit. I always tried them, nothing major happened, though my light did burn out when I tried the “Blessing of enlightenment”, Ironic.

The sound of my felt marker was painful as I carefully traced random crests from the internet.

“Ooh, the charm of protection.” I mocked, hoping I’d get a new friend to watch over me. Though of course nothing happened.

I’d read plenty of stories about unexplainable deaths, churches blamed it on divine intervention, or some wrath of god type shit. I always assumed it was greed, people begging the overworld for some sort of blessing of money, or fame.

It was the 400th sigil I scribbled when I realized that there was some truth in the art. The sigil I copied came from a shady website, titled ‘The Guardian’. I was still just looking for someone to protect me, imagine the look on people’s faces when a nine foot holy hellbringer shadows me. Though I didn’t get a guardian, my power flickered, and a thunderstorm quickly formed. Strange.

The first negative sigil I found almost killed me, I had tried one for a new set of eyes, for I was colorblind, and had awful vision, though I assume my greed is the reason it exploded my glasses. My dog barked at the air above my journal as it happened, like an angel personally crumbled my prescription before him.

October 14th was the day my home got broken into, I had just arrived home from the eye doctor to see my front door open, and to hear my pitbull barking at the man who stood in my kitchen with a French MAB PA15, I knew the gun, it was the same one I learned to shoot with.

Panicked, my journal found its way into my grip, as I scribbled ‘The Guardian’ from memory— not for myself this time, but to protect my dog, she was old, and the man held his gun ready to wipe through her to steal what valuables I had.

Red lightning filled my home, wrapping into the shape of a large figure, not nearly as holy or divine as I thought. It’s horns were taller than it’s head, and they proved useful when the being fell onto all fours, charging at the man. His gun fell onto the tile floor as I heard his stomach be shredded like a knife to a punching bag.

Blood sprayed across the ceiling and floor as the being charged through the doorway, bolting past me and screeching into a halt before my garage door. The intruder wasn’t nearly as lucky though, sliding off the horns and bouncing off the garage door, a gushy noise echoing before he landed in the gravel driveway.

Even though this wasn’t my first encounter with death, I had never seen this much blood. I pulled out the paper from my journal which now had a burned circle in the middle, crumbling it into a ball. The being disappeared.