Strange and Surreal Stories from My First Clients in Estonia

When people discover that I’ve built a life and career as a Luciferian witch, casting spells for clients all over the world, they often assume I started in some grand way, with an Instagram following, a coven, a fancy ritual room lit with red candles and velvet drapes.

But the truth is far humbler.

I started as a teenage witch in Estonia, quietly offering spellwork to people in my town and later through small classifieds and forums. My altar was a windowsill. My tools were whatever I could afford or forage. My clients were local, desperate, and often a little afraid.

Those early years were raw and electric. And a little... weird.
Today, I want to share a few of the strangest stories from that time, before I had a website, before the rituals became elaborate. Back when it was just me, my spirits, and the strange requests people dared to whisper.

The Girl Who Wanted to Disappear

I was sixteen when a girl from a nearby village came to me after hearing whispers about what I did. She was pale, withdrawn, and couldn’t meet my eyes. Her request?

“I don’t want people to see me anymore. I don’t want to be noticed. I want to vanish.”

At first, I thought she meant metaphorically, some teenage angst, maybe a desire to hide from gossip or bullying. But no: she meant it literally. She wanted to become invisible.

So I crafted a cloaking ritual. Nothing fancy: birch bark, charcoal sigils, a circle drawn in salt and juniper needles. She stood silently while I chanted and smoked the space. When it was done, she thanked me and left with a strange calmness.

Two weeks later, I received a message from her cousin.
“She walks into rooms and no one notices her. Teachers forget to call on her. A man walked into her on the street and apologized like he’d run into a shadow. What did you do to her?”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I still don’t know if it was the spell or her belief, or some darker force that had been listening.
But she got what she asked for. For a while, anyway.

The Pact Made in a Burned-Out Sauna

One of the first pacts I ever facilitated was in the ruins of a sauna that had burned down the previous winter. I didn’t have a ritual space of my own, and the boy, maybe nineteen, insisted we do it somewhere “charged.”

He wanted power. He had just been cheated out of money by his business partner and wanted revenge, control, and a total reinvention.

We met just after midnight. The air smelled like ash and rusted metal. I remember laying out three black candles and drawing a sigil in soot on a broken floor tile. I spoke the names.

Right before we closed the ritual, something creaked in the sauna’s remains. A wooden plank shifted on its own. We both froze. He whispered, “Did you hear that?” I said, “Yes. That means it’s done.”

A week later, he texted me:

-The ex-partner had been caught in a financial scandal.

-His new business pitch had been accepted by a wealthy investor.

-And he had started dreaming of a tall, faceless man standing at the foot of his bed.

He thanked me... and blocked me two months later. Typical.

The Widow Who Wanted Her Husband’s Spirit Bound to a Ring

This one still haunts me. An older woman, mid-60s, came to me quietly through a friend of my mother’s. Her husband had died suddenly. She wasn’t grieving, exactly; she was angry.

She wanted his soul bound to a silver ring he used to wear, so she could carry him with her and “never forgive him.” Her words. She never told me what he had done.

I warned her that soul-binding was no small request. But she was persistent. She brought the ring, a lock of his hair, and a photo. The ritual was somber. Cold. I remember my candle flame wouldn’t stay steady, even without wind.

The next day she called me.
“He’s in the house. I hear his voice behind closed doors. The ring is warm. I don’t sleep anymore.”

I told her how to cleanse the object, to release him.
She said, “No. I’m not done with him yet.”
She never contacted me again.

The Curse That Worked Too Well

One of the first real curses I cast wasn’t for money, it was personal. A girl I trusted spread lies about me and mocked my practice publicly. She told people I was “possessed” and "dangerous." Some parents banned their kids from being around me.

There was a girl in school who humiliated me publicly. Said I worshipped Satan and sacrificed squirrels behind the gym. Total nonsense, but damaging. Suddenly, I was the weird freak again. Parents whispered. Some kids stopped talking to me.

So, I did what any teenage witch with too much bottled-up wrath would do: I cursed her. I used vinegar, dog hair, and a cursed Estonian nursery rhyme. I sealed it in a box and buried it near a bus stop she always used.

Two weeks later:

- She tripped in front of the whole school twice.

- Got food poisoning before a class trip.

- Broke her phone.

- Got stung by three wasps... indoors.

She started avoiding me in total panic. Once, she saw me in the hallway and literally turned around and sprinted.

One day, her friend came to me and whispered:
“She thinks you’re watching her through mirrors.”

I wasn’t.
But I didn’t correct her.

The Boy Who Wanted to Attract “Any Girl, Just Not My Cousin Again”

This one still makes me laugh. A boy from a neighboring town messaged me with a desperate request for a love-drawing spell. He said, “I just want girls to notice me. Any girl is fine… just not my cousin again.”

Apparently, the last time he tried something magical (on his own), the only girl who got obsessed with him was his second cousin. She followed him around like a cat in heat and started writing his name in blood on her notebooks. He was traumatized.

So I agreed to help. I made the charm very clear, focused on mutual attraction, non-relatives, sane individuals. (Seriously, I even wrote “not related by blood” into the spell petition.)

It worked. Three weeks later he had a girlfriend from another school. His cousin allegedly switched to stalking a guy who played the accordion.

Magic: 1
Inbreeding: 0

The Woman Who Wanted to Curse a Cheese Thief

A middle-aged woman came to me furious that someone was stealing food from the communal fridge at her apartment building, specifically her cheese slices.

She had tried everything: notes, locks, even hiding it behind yogurt. Nothing worked. So she came to me with a straight face and said:
“I want whoever’s taking it to suffer.”

Naturally, I laughed, but she was serious. I crafted a petty little hex using moldy cheese, onion skins, and a sigil I drew with expired milk.

Two days later, she messaged me:
“The cheese is untouched. But someone else’s milk exploded. And the hallway now smells like death.”

She left me a bottle of wine on my windowsill as payment.
To this day, I don’t know if the thief stopped out of guilt or fear. But no one ever touched her cheese again.

Estonia was a strange playground for a teenage witch. With our endless forests, old superstitions, and silent nights, it was the perfect place to test the boundaries between this world and the next.

I learned fast. Not just about spells, but about people. What they want. What they fear. What they’ll do when they think no one’s watching... except the witch down the road.

I’ve since grown, refined my craft, and cast spells for clients all over the world. But those first rituals, half-chaotic, half-divine, till live in my bones. And honestly? Some of the weirdest and most powerful magic happened before I even knew what I was truly capable of.

If you want more stories from my early days, let me know. I have plenty.
Some terrifying. Some hilarious.
All 100% true.

Love, your witch,

xx Veronika