A few Halloweens ago, Kerry Johnson, a practicing Wiccan and co-owner of The Village Witch, 311 N 2nd St., was in the middle of an interview with a journalist from Channel 6 News. Extra media attention around Halloween is something she’s accustomed to. On this day, Johnson was decked out in a stereotypical witch costume, with a black pointy hat, cloak and green face make-up.

The journalist asked her if it bothered her that so many people sport similar get-ups as Halloween costumes, perhaps making a mockery of her and her religion. “I had to say to her, ‘Uh, clearly not. This is my Halloween costume.’ She thought that was how I dressed on a normal basis.” Johnson says. “Every Halloween, I dress up, hand out candy, and then once the trick-or-treating is over, we celebrate our own way.”

This wasn’t the first­—or last—time Johnson has had to debunk stereotypes about Wicca, especially around this time of year. Culturally, the terms “Halloween” and “witch” are tied closely together for most in the Judeo-Christian world. Johnson says, though, the confusion and the bastardization of the term “witch” doesn’t really bother her.

“I call myself a witch, yes,” Johnson said. “It’s just that this term has been so skewed by Christianity.”

Wicca is a Pagan, earth-based religion that worships a God and a Goddess, whose spirits are found in everything in nature. The cornerstone of Wicca is the “Law of Three,” meaning that any harm one places on a living creature will come back to you three times. A group of practicing Wiccans is called a coven. It is led by a high priest and a high priestess, although it is the female who holds more authority. Individual covens tend to be small—the traditional number of members is 13—and they meet on a regular basis, much like any other religion. There are eight “high holy days” in Wicca, all of which fall on or around a key Judeo-Christian religious holidays. It is worth noting, though, that Wicca and its traditions date further back than Christianity, with the earliest development of Wiccan gods and ideals beginning in Europe around 7500 B.C., according to www.wicca-chat.com.

For Wiccans, Oct. 31 is called Samhain (pronounced SAU-WIN), their highest holy day. On this day, the veil between the two worlds—life and death—is at its thinnest. The coven—a group of Wiccans with a high priest and a high priestess—lays out what is called a dumb feast, and invite their deceased loved ones to join them and share the meal. Although the menu is extremely varied and flexible, staples include bread, ale, wine and apples. Kacey Carlson, co-owner of The Village Witch, lays out dog and cat food every year, too, to connect with past pets. Beyond that, a Samhain celebration can take on many shapes. Wicca and its celebrations are much less structured than other religions, says Susie Kingman, a high priestess for a coven in Topeka.

“Our religion is about doing as you will and harming none,” Kingman says. “If you ask 10 Wiccans to describe Wicca you’ll get 15 different responses.”

What all Wiccans have in common, though, is the feeling they were born this way. Many were raised Christian, but never felt like that belief system fit. Johnson says what led her to straying from her Southern Baptist church was the image of an angry vindictive Christian God. “A divine power wouldn’t behave that way.”

Carlson says she made her own deck of tarot cards at the age of 11, even though she didn’t know the official term for the cards at the time. She found Wicca in college, and finally realized where this interest in mysticism came from. “It wasn’t that I became a Wiccan at age 19,” Carlson says. “I have always been one. I was born this way.”

In Lawrence, most Wiccans aren’t even sure of how many covens are active. Carlson knows of three that practice openly, but says that many Wiccans in Lawrence probably practice in solitude because they aren’t in contact with others like them. She knows more covens exist, but more often than not, they prefer to stay secretive. Events like Pagan Pride Day, which took place for the first time in Lawrence on Oct. 6, provide an occasional common gathering place, but those events are far and few between.

But next week, organized covens and individuals alike, whether they’re underground or not, will celebrate the biggest Wiccan day of the year. Along with marking the day where the veil between life and death is at its thinnest, the day also represents the final Harvest and the Celtic New Year. While most in Lawrence will march around neighborhoods toting an ever-growing bag of candy, a certain few will be dancing to the beat of a different drum, hidden away in unknown temples or basements and summoning their dead loved ones to feast with them.

“A lot of religions and people are fearful of that part of the circle [death],” Kingman says. “We’re not.”