Whenever my family and I would go to Memphis to visit my mother's side of the family, I always remember overhearing relatives, along with my grandmother herself, claiming that she was a witch. It was never negative, but as my Aunt Joyce often said she always got what she wanted. For my circus themed birthday I even remember using my grandmother as the fortune teller in the tent in the backyard, and though I knew she was neither a real witch or psychic, there was something very magic about her. She had this pull with people that made them feel comfortable and at ease and this certain way about her that made her kind of glow. I first knew that my grandmother was a little different than the rest when I went to visit her when I was around seven years old. My grandparents had a shed covered in vines in their backyard that used to be a garage and I had always been curious as to what was behind the door to the shed, probably because we were not allowed to go inside. While the adults were finishing up dinner, the children, including myself, went outside to play in the yard. Schemingly, my cousin who was one year older than me also longed to see what was inside the mysterious shed in the back we never dared to look in before. We decided to go back there together, and finally see what was in this secret shed. I remember it being very dark and scary as I peaked in through the window to try and see what was inside, not being able to make out anything. We managed to open the rusted door and turned on the lights only to be greeted by a decapitated chicken hanging from its legs dripping blood into a small bowl beneath it, feathers everywhere. To a seven and eight year old, you can only imagine what was going through our tiny heads, horrified with our discovery. I remember feeling as though I had walked into a crime scene or scary movie, and was even more confused as to why it was in my grandparent's shed. I remember running as fast as I could inside from that shed and looking at it today still gives me an off feeling. My mother, horrified that I was scarred for life at such a dramatic scene, tried insinuating that raccoons and cats had been living in the shed and instead of eating the other chickens my grandmother had in a coupe along side the shed, she let him eat this dead one. However, even at age seven, the way my grandmother casually acted during the experience and the rest of the adults shifting their eyes, it made me believe it was some sort of magic. Eventually, when I was older, I asked my mother what had really happened in that shed. She began by telling me that my grandmother thought she was cursed, and went a little mad trying every remedy to cure her from it. When she was 30, my grandmother's brother had killed himself and my grandmother had been the one to find him. She felt as though she lost all control over her life and slipped into a state of severe depression. All around the same time, my grandmother met a woman named Adisa began to come into her boutique. My grandmother had explained that she had long braided hair and was tall and just the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, and intelligent and elegant as well, but intense, but as was my grandmother. Adisa explained how she often practiced Vodun or Voodoo with her grandmother when she was a young girl. Intrigued by what Adisa was telling her about the practice and eagerly trying to find anything that would give her back a sense of power in her sad state of mind, she asked if the woman would include her the next time around. True to her word, my grandmother began practicing Voodoo. Though Vodun is very misunderstood worldwide, my grandmother explained it as having spirits always walking alongside us, and being able to communicate with them but not always through words, but through emotions or feelings. I think she felt as though she would be closer with her brother when performing these rituals. However, after a few rituals