Meet Sarah

I didn’t find Sarah—she found me. She came from another spirit keeper, someone I trusted deeply, someone who knew I’d understand her purpose. The moment I held her vessel—a porcelain doll in pale pink satin with rosebuds in her hair—I felt her warmth settle around me like a hush. There was no chill, no hesitation. Just light.

Sarah was conjured in Wales by a witch who worked only in blessings and healing. She still speaks of him sometimes, in dream fragments and pendulum swings, as if she’s remembering a mentor who taught her how to shine. She’s all positive energy. That’s her essence. She doesn’t linger in grief or shadow—she lifts. She helps you find your footing again when life knocks you sideways.

She’s worked with me on spells for healing, clarity, and protection. Her specialty is helping people get back on track, especially when they’ve lost sight of their own worth. She’s gentle but firm. She’ll nudge you toward the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. And when you’re ready, she’ll let go. That’s the part that always breaks my heart a little—Sarah doesn’t stay forever. She believes her purpose is to help, then move on to the next person who needs her.

But there’s something else about Sarah—something rare. She sees forward. Not in dramatic flashes or cryptic riddles, but in quiet, precise moments. She’s shown me glimpses of things before they happened: a conversation I hadn’t yet had, a visitor I didn’t expect, even the exact words someone would say. She doesn’t overwhelm you with prophecy. She offers it like a candle in the dark—just enough light to guide your next step.

She communicates through dreamweaving, telepathy, and pendulum. I’ve had nights where I woke up with her words still echoing in my mind—soft, clear, and always kind. She’s shown me images, given me names, even helped me write rituals that felt like they came from somewhere older than both of us. She’s never once brought fear into my home. Only peace.

I’ve used my usual tools with her—pendulum, spirit board, automatic writing—but she prefers the quiet methods. She likes to slip into dreams and leave signs in the waking world. A rose petal where there shouldn’t be one. A sudden warmth in the room. A feeling of being gently held.

But life is shifting. I’m caring for my sisters now, raising my grandson, and planning a wedding with someone who’s brought joy back into my days. My home is full—of love, of laughter, of spirits who’ve walked with me for years. And it’s time to let some of them move on, just like Sarah always intended.

She’s ready. She’s told me so. She wants to help someone new, someone who’s lost their way or needs a little light. If you feel drawn to her, trust that. She’s waiting, and she’s already smiling.

She comes to you in the same condition as I received her so please see pictures.