Sister of Darkness

by R. H. Stavis

  When this woman lay on her back on a bed in my Spirit Room, I peered into her body, and I could see where her blocks were right away. What looked like black smoke hovered over her ovaries. This darkness held her entities—a Wraith and a Clive—who were stifling so much energy flowing in and out of her ovaries that they’d shut both of them down. Immediately, it was clear that one was beyond repair. But on the other one, I could see the image of a baby.

  “I want to come in,” the child whispered to me.

  I knew at that moment my client was going to become a mother.

  For the next hour, I cleared the darkness and the entities out of her body, essentially performing a psychic surgery. When I was done, I turned to her and reassured her.

  “I believe there is a chance,” I said. “There’s one ovary that’s working, and there’s one that’s not. Keep trying. Don’t give up, because I can see that there’s a baby trying to come in.”

  I know you’re probably biting your nails to hear what happened, but first things first! Let me explain what was going on in this woman’s life and how a spiritual block brought in entities who affected her physically.

  Most of the time, an entity that’s standing in the way of conception is feeding off a trauma stemming from a woman’s relationship with her mother. If you have unfinished issues with your mom, there’s a latent fear in you that you’ll be a bad mother, too. I can say this with confidence because I had a terrible mother, and I’m hyperaware of how it’s affected me. Because my mother was so unfit to parent, I, like many others, am convinced that I’ll follow in her footsteps with my own children—if I ever have them. Which I may at some point. Maybe.

  From a very early age, my client had a dysfunctional relationship with her own mom, who was a mentally abusive alcoholic. After the exorcism, though, she began to think through her family issues. Her attitudes toward her mother softened, as did her anger. She started to let the past go.

  Two months after her exorcism, she called me.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said, “and I can’t thank you enough.”

  Happy endings like this are why I do what I do. It’s why I forced myself to explore entities in all their horrific, gory detail, learned how they differ from each other, mapped out their many levels of malevolence, and mastered how to exorcise them out of you—forever.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Most Common Entities

  I’ve seen tens of thousands of entities over the years, probably hundreds of thousands more realistically. Some were totally unique, and I’ve never witnessed anything like them again. Others were common types that appeared over and over, and still do, hovering near me without fanfare and present in almost every exorcism I do. Some entities never interact with humans; they seem content to just exist outside the realm of Spirit. Still others will do whatever they can to get our attention.

  Then, there are entities that are truly blood-curdling. They have the potential to destroy the world as we know it. And unfortunately, I’ve come face-to-face with them, too.

  But we’ll talk about those later. First things first.

  When I was in my early thirties and finally faced the reality that I was born to be an exorcist, I decided to organize my thinking. This wasn’t a sophisticated or formal process. I didn’t consult any spiritual gurus, nor did I sketch or write down what the entities I saw looked like. I just knew them intimately, recognized a pattern, and decided to make sense of it.

  I realized that the entities I’d been seeing for so many years fell into a few distinct categories. Some entities felt more malevolent than others, and some I rarely saw, but it was clear that the ones I encountered most frequently fell into five separate groups.

  What was also apparent to me was that each of these groups needed a name. After all, if I was going to talk to my clients about these terrible creatures that had invaded their bodies, sucking away their energy to the point that they’d become depressed, angry, or even suicidal, I had to make the beings come alive in some way. My clients needed something tangible to hang on to when we discussed what was plaguing them. If a person in my Spirit Room—who is probably scared half out of their mind—could say, “Oh, I have this thing that’s actually called X, and other people have it, too!” I knew they’d feel less crazy. It’s no different than when you’re sick, and you’ve spent days walking around feeling terrible and wondering what’s wrong with you. When you find out that what you have is just garden-variety bronchitis or a sinus infection, suddenly you feel like you have a better handle on both being sick and getting well.

  I’ve named each entity according to what makes sense to me and based on how the entity looks, feels, and acts. My clients might laugh when I tell them they have a Clive—so named because these entities remind me of a Clive Barker drawing—but there’s nothing funny about them. Quite the opposite; these entities are almost always dangerous.

  The Diamond Chart

  After I named the major entities, it made sense to list them in the order of how malevolent they are. My clients sometimes struggle to visualize what’s actually happening to them—I mean, finding out you’ve got something called a “Wraith” can be hard to wrap your brain around—so I created a visual aid shaped like a cut diamond. I named it “The Diamond Chart,” and it ranks the entities from lowest frequency (and therefore most dangerous) to highest frequency (and therefore most benign). The dividing line is humans, who are a mixed bag of low and high frequency, ranging between them all the time. We’re rarely ever so low that we’d be on par with entities, and we’re seldom ever so high that we’d be close to Higher Beings. Humans struggle with maintaining a steady frequency, so our “baseline” energy is somewhere in between.

  An entity’s placement on the chart doesn’t necessarily correlate with how often I see them. Just because Wraiths appear toward the bottom doesn’t mean I encounter them any less frequently than Tricksters. I will say that I most regularly confront Clives and least often see Realm Walkers. This is a blessing, as Realm Walkers are the most dangerous entities there are.

  What follows is the Rachel Stavis taxonomy of entities: the forces I have come to know intimately, act as my constant tormentors, and serve as my life’s purpose.

  The Five Major Entities

  CLIVES

  Clives are the smallest, least harmful entities out there, and each and every one of you has had one attached to you at one time or another in your life. Clives are much like leeches; they attach to you in an effort to suck as much of your energy as possible, and lower your frequency bit by bit over time. Clives seek out a frequency that matches their own; if you’re typically a sad person, that type of Clive will find you, and if you have issues with anger, you’ll attract another type.

  I haven’t counted up how many different types of Clives exist in the world right now, but I know that there are many. Why? Because there are so many low-frequency emotions in the world, and because I see new Clives almost every week.

  Clives are incredibly sneaky in the ways they attach to you, and most people will never be aware they have them, even though they might carry them around for thirty, forty, even fifty years. Clives are essentially invisible to their host simply because they amplify their preexisting negative emotions rather than create new ones. When they attach, you become the proverbial frog in hot water. If you tend toward sadness, they may cause you to enter a full-blown depression. If you have a propensity to drink too much at times, a Clive may lead you to alcoholism. If you’re prone to outbursts of anger, you might become violent. Amplification is the Clive’s end goal because the more you’re “puffed up,” the bigger the energetic frequency you release. In turn, the more they can feed.

  I work with Clives constantly, and as far as I can tell, they’re not sophisticated thinkers. They simply exist, just doing what they’re doing and trying to prevent you from noticing them. A Clive generally isn’t all that dangerous, but they can cause their host to do something dangerous. For example, if you’re sad, attract a Clive,
and then become depressed, the Clive may continue feeding, making you more and more desperate until you’re suicidal.

  I know this because I can see Clives in photographs of deeply self-destructive people. I’ve had clients come to me, terribly upset that someone they were close to committed suicide, and they’ll ask me why it happened.

  “I just don’t understand,” they’ll say. “I knew my friend had problems, but I didn’t think they were that bad.”

  “Can I see a photograph of your friend?” I’ll ask.

  When they show me one, the image of the Clive is unmistakable, and I know that it amplified whatever trauma that individual had faced until the pain was unbearable. Unfortunately, since they’re now gone, I can’t help that person anymore, but I can be there for their surviving loved one. I may perform the best exorcism I can to help them relieve their trauma, and then I might refer them to a medium to help them be in touch with the deceased—if that’s what they want.

  Despite the fact that Clives may help lead people to suicide, the entity doesn’t have blood on its hands, if that makes sense. In fact, a Clive’s goal is not to kill you because, if you’re dead, they can no longer feed. Again, their effect is amplification of an existing trauma, and, unfortunately, that can have lethal consequences.

  As I mentioned, I named Clives after acclaimed horror writer Clive Barker because they resemble some of his drawings—simple at first, but more and more creepy the longer you look at them. You can take a look online; I promise that when you do, you’ll understand. Clives tend to rest in a person’s core, with tubes and talons coming out of them that connect to the heart, the brain, the backs of the eyes, or the internal organs. They then feed through those tubes just like a parasite. Most are pretty tiny—even small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. But the larger ones I’ve seen are the size of a small dog. Clives can live in the body with other entities, which was the case with the little girl I described in the introduction. She had one very malevolent entity called a Trickster that was the source of most of her symptoms, but the Clive she also had was amplifying all of her terrible, negative emotions. Essentially, the Clive had become a megaphone for the larger entity, and that made for a dangerous, self-destructive situation for this innocent child.

  Even though everyone carries Clives—or, at least, has at some point in their life—I’ve discovered that they frequently attach to porn stars. I have many clients who work in porn. The Valley is the hub of American adult film production, and for years I lived and worked there, so in that network, word got out about me.

  Unfortunately, a lot of pornography has undertones of violence. Sure, what you see on the screen is fictionalized, and the violence may not be straightforward, but themes of domination and subversion are common. Many porn stars have had difficult pasts, too. They attract entities at an early age because of their troubled upbringings, and when they begin to work in an industry where things can veer to an intense intimacy with shades of violence, they collect Clives. Guess where these Clives attach? Their genitals. These actors may be possessed by other, more malevolent entities like Wraiths, who are typically connected to sexual trauma, but 99 percent of the time Clives are the most prevalent entity. They attach the most easily, and they do it the most quickly.

  I hesitate to make any blanket statements about the porn industry here. Violence isn’t necessarily the norm, and sometimes, the actors are people who approach their work as business, from a place of power and not because of their childhood demons. There are amazing creatives who do that work who have branded themselves, and who strive for body positivity and the betterment of women. But sometimes, things aren’t that way. That is just fact.

  I’ve cleaned out porn stars who then decided to leave the industry, and I’ve also had others who stay in it, telling me, “This is my calling.” I exist in a no-judgment zone, and I believe that whatever makes you happy and doesn’t hurt another person is what you should be doing. Hands down, no questions asked. I just exist to rid them of their unwanted spiritual baggage, so to speak.

  While all exorcisms are similar in the steps I have to take, removing a Clive is by far the easiest for me. I call them my “pizza delivery exorcisms” because, nine times out of ten, they take thirty minutes or less. It’s like removing a tick; you just pull it right off. Sure, to my clients Clives may feel huge, but they’re pretenders, like cats. When a cat wants you to be scared of him, he puffs up and he hisses, but he usually doesn’t lunge at you. Neither do Clives. With my prompting, they just flow right out of the body, then hover before they dissipate into a cloud of smoke.

  Clive exorcisms are straightforward even when someone is covered in them, and that often happens when a person has multiple sexual partners. I’ve already talked about my porn star clients, but I’ll describe another memorable case to illustrate this.

  I once met with a character actor named George. George had never really hit it big in Hollywood, but he’d had steady jobs in television and movies for years. He was in his late thirties, was very good looking, and had bounced from set to set, all over the world, since his early twenties. I’m not sure if being on the road so much had prevented him from settling down, but he hadn’t had a monogamous relationship in years, and he’d slept with probably six hundred women. Genital hopping was his thing, and he had always had several partners at once.

  An individual who treats sex like a handshake probably has a lower frequency than most. I’m not judging—there is nothing wrong with an active sex life—but the truth is that a person who’s focused on getting laid more than having a relationship is dealing with base-level ego rather than high-mindedness. Ego is low frequency, and that causes entities to flock to you. In addition, sex involves an energy exchange. If your partner is low frequency, and so are you, the encounter can lower your frequency even more. Couple that with the aftermath of a sexual encounter that was hollow and meaningless, and you dip even lower. All of that explains why George was positively coated in Clives.

  George felt depressed for reasons he couldn’t really explain, and a director he worked with suggested he visit me since therapy didn’t seem to be helping.

  “I’ve got a great, steady career and a terrific sex life. Why do I feel so bad?” he asked.

  When I told him to lie down on the bed in my Spirit Room, I could see a cluster of Clives—probably fifteen in all—resting in his midsection. Their tubes and talons reached out from his core and extended toward his genitals, and while I didn’t ask him to take off his pants, it was obvious where they were sucking his low-frequency energy from. I called in a few Higher Beings, lit some incense and burned some herbs, and within a half hour, the Clives were gone.

  George felt immediately better.

  WRAITHS

  The next most common entity I see are Wraiths.

  Wraiths are attracted to sexual dysfunction, so they attach because of any sort of sexual trauma that occurs in a person’s life, whether it was in childhood, before the person was fully aware what was happening, or well into adulthood. The trauma can be straightforward, like a rape, or it can be more complex. For example, if a gay man hides his sexuality for years because his family is religious and wouldn’t approve, he may attract a Wraith. All that matters is that there’s a certain darkness around sexuality in general, or connected to one powerful, scarring incident.

  Pornography addiction can also attract a Wraith. I’m not here to tell you to stop watching pornography if that’s your thing, but I know what I see, and I have witnessed Wraiths attached to people who go too far. If you spend too much time online, away from your family and real-life relationships, if you confuse what you see on a computer with reality, or if you simply can’t be satisfied in a sexual relationship because it’s not like the images you watch, this creates a problem. There needs to be a steady balance between real-life and cyber sexuality for a Wraith to stay away.

  Entities also tend to work through technology, so when a person spends an unhealthy, obsessive amount of time
on their computer or mobile device, a Wraith may use them as portals. This happens because, for whatever reason, electronics carry a certain level of energy. A computer that’s absolutely filled with pornographic downloads or Web searches will be low frequency, and if a Wraith is on the prowl, he’ll know he can wait there. His next victim will be logging on soon.

  Not everyone who’s experienced a sexual trauma will attract a Wraith. The majority do, but I’ve had clients who were so high frequency, with such a positive outlook on life, that even though they’d found themselves in horrifying situations having to do with sex, Wraiths didn’t attach. Some people are just made of tough stuff.

  Wraiths are always attracted to the opposite sex, so men carry female Wraiths, and women carry male Wraiths. I don’t know why this is, but with every Wraith I’ve witnessed, this has been the case, no matter what your sexual orientation is. So even if a man is drawn to other men, he’ll attract female Wraiths.

  Wraiths look very human, but in a terrifying, gruesome way, with skeletal arms and legs. They’re always grotesquely tall and thin, as if they’re anorexic. Female Wraiths have Cleopatra-style haircuts, while the males tend to be bald. Both sexes’ faces are very gaunt, with dark holes in the place of their eyes and mouths. Maybe it’s because they’re insecure, and trying to appear bigger than they are, but the males wear cloaks or trench coats that surround them like a black cloud, hiding the lack of hair on their heads.

  The closest depiction of a Wraith I’ve ever seen is the original cover illustration on the book Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, published by Harper & Row in 1981, which was so frightening that the illustrator wasn’t hired to draw the cover for the reprints. I dare you to google the original image; it’s completely horrifying. Bear in mind that whenever I’m visited by a Wraith, this is very close to what I see. Now you understand why I was so terrified most of my childhood.