good sensations can sometimes be extreme, and i know i personally enjoy a good few of those, so i wanted to know which of these types of pain are the most commonly enjoyed :)

basically my question is. am i such a touch deprived weirdo that i'll enjoy fucked up sensations no one else likes or am i normal

You know who you are

but for everyone else btw it was @razzbberry

In Between

These days, happy doesn’t hurt anymore

I don’t curse mosquitoes, sprawl on the floor

Old demons are no longer welcome here

The drive to add new tallies disappears

The pain reservoir a desiccation

I’m not numb or screaming for sensation

Creativity’ floodgates are sealed tight

Containing the boundless depths of moonlight

The endless reach of the platinum sky

No blood like venom flows through veins run dry

Interminable trek, the in between

Mundaneness scarred by reminders obscene

Of sixty years slogging through life endless

Forsaken the prospects and ghosts careless

Waiting and frostbitten

Hoping and snakebitten

Black heart inertia, struggle and succeed

Perpetual motion, rinse and repeat

Forlorn, bent but not torn, full defiant

Seeking the key to unlock the present

And topple the regime of stagnation

Shatter shackles self-incarceration

I know the in between will lull and stall

Life will be saturated colorful

Whimsy tosses the coinflip decision

A fate of mania or depression

these looks 💯

I would love to see her rock out in person!

💔🥀 Girls bite back 🥀💔

Photos not mine

Just started this show, and I’m loving it.  All the theories and suspicion and strong characters.

I worry about people who throw rocks. THE EXPANSE • 1.04 ’CQB’

This post is neither love nor hate for CD Projekt Red’s Cyberpunk 2077.  No matter your opinion, you have to admit their End User License Agreement is flippin’ hilarious: 1 ABOUT THIS AGREEMENT Alright, so this load of corpo talk on the left is actually pretty simple. It’s kinda like a safety manual for a new piece of cyberware (like anyone reads those, right?). So I’m here to make it real easy to understand. But ‘member, that long version over on the left, that stuff is legally binding. My version; well, I’m just here to help. The whole Agreement only counts for Cyberpunk 2077. For rules covering other games from the same company, ya gotta check out the specific legal-speak written for them. And hey, if ya like reading so much, they’re askin’ ya to check out the Fan Content Guidelines, the CD PROJEKT RED User Agreement, and CD PROJEKT RED Privacy Policy. So go ahead, knock yourself out. 2 AGE RESTRICTIONS AND CONTENT WARNING This is cute. So, the game’s got this ‘minimum age rating’ okay? So if ya wanna get into Night City — I’m tryna keep a straight face here — you gotta be above that rating. Usually, it’s 18+, but if, say, ya live somewhere that says 17+, and you’re only 17, then you gotta ask a parent for supervision. Seriously. Ya can’t make this up! Oh yeah, and there’s a warning here that Cyberpunk 2077 has some ‘pretty gruesome and disturbing stuff going on’. Now we’re talkin. 3 USING CYBERPUNK 2077 You bought this game so you’ve got the right to play it on whatever system/device/platform ya bought it for — and only on that system/device/platform. Simple. ‘Nother warning here, an’ it’s an important one, too! If you or someone you live with suffers from an epileptic condition, talk to your doctor before jackin’ into Cyberpunk 2077. 4 MINIMUM REQUIREMENTS AND MONITORING First rule of the streets: walk before you can run. Cyberpunk 2077 has minimum requirements depending on the system/device/platform you’re playing it on. So keep that in mind before you put your eddies down, alright? Okay, so they’re sayin’ that they might need to implement some background tools/software to monitor the game and make sure Cyberpunk 2077 is always kept in preem condition. When these are optional, they only run when you agree to it. You give the go ahead. When they’re mandatory, well, they’ll be upfront about it and let ya know in advance. They ain’t gonna just start ‘spying’ on ya or somethin’ like that. 5 PATCHES, UPDATES AND CHANGES Even the slickest cyberware needs some attention every now and then. There’ll be patches and updates for Cyberpunk 2077, and these’ll help make it run better. You want that, right? 6 OWNERSHIP AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS Just a reminder that Cyberpunk 2077 is owned/licensed by CD PROJEKT RED. Sure, you get to run wild on the streets of Night City, but if ya wanna start usin’ elements from the game outside of that — ya gotta listen to the rules laid out by the corpo in this an’ other documents, alright? 7 RULES FOR USING CYBERPUNK 2077 Just like jackin’ into a preem braindance recording, Cyberpunk 2077 is for your own personal pleasure. Don’t be a gonk and ruin the fun by messing up the rules in the corpo text opposite. 8 FAN CONTENT Wanna make cool stuff inspired by Cyberpunk 2077? Don’t go in blind. Read up on the Fan Content Guidelines so you know the score. 9 FEEDBACK AND CRASH REPORTS Hey, a corp that listens. Ain’t that somethin’? They wanna hear your feedback about Cyberpunk 2077, but it ain’t a guarantee that what you say will be acted on. Don’t feel too bad, though, sometimes it just ain’t meant to be. If anything happens to go south with Cyberpunk 2077 (like a Voodoo Boys netrunner crashing the system, or something crazy like that) feel free to ping an optional crash report over. It’ll be put to good use. 10 THIRD PARTY CONTENT AND EXTERNAL SERVICES The Net is a pretty massive place. Even master netrunners get caught out by some of the stuff you find out there. So keep this in your head: clicking a link that takes you outside of the world of the dark future — well, even the power of the corpo can’t look after you. So stay safe, cyberpunk. 11 WARRANTIES Second rule of the streets: A deal’s a deal. This part says that they make a ‘binding agreement’ about Cyberpunk 2077 with ya. They won’t leave ya hanging, and they’ll take ‘reasonable care’ regarding your use of the game. How sweet — ‘scuse me while I dry my eyes over here. 12 LIABILITY This part’s all about legal responsibility between you and the corp. Gotta know where ya both stand, right? Despite best efforts, sometimes a piece of preem tech like this doesn’t always work like you want it to — even after testing and all that good stuff. The corpo’s pretty clear that it ain’t responsible to you for how Cyberpunk 2077 works, and it ain’t making any legally binding promises to you about this sort of thing in general. But if things get *really* screwed up and you’re at fault for a real serious breach in this Agreement, then you’ll be asked to “indemnify” them. Fancy corpo word meanin’ you’ll be asked to compensate them financially in case somethin’ big goes down. So try not to breach anything, is my advice. Okay, got some extra info here: these provisions don’t apply to people living in the EU or other applicable countries. 13 TERMINATION Wanna end the Agreement for good? Easy, just stop playing Cyberpunk 2077. From my experience, corpos never usually let ya just walk away clean, so this is a pretty preem deal if you ask me. If you go acting like a gonk and seriously breach this Agreement, then you can say goodbye to your access to Cyberpunk 2077 (temporarily or permanently). That’d suck, so just play it smart and keep it clean. This probably won’t happen, but just in case it does and Cyberpunk 2077 stops working for good, then you’ll be told before it happens. 14 FORCE MAJEURE Third rule of the streets: S**t happens. It’s an unpredictable world out there. Anything crazy and unexpected happens, (war, earthquake, flood, rogue AIs overthrowing the human race an’ subjugating us all etc. — okay that last one’s a joke... I hope…) then neither you nor the corpo will be held accountable when these obligations can’t be performed. Like I said; s**t happens. 15 GOVERNING LAW Legally, any questions/complaints or claims you have about this Agreement fall under Polish law. That goes for everyone on the planet — unless you live in the United States of America, that is. If that’s you, then you fall under California law instead. Ain’t you special? 16 DISPUTE RESOLUTION AND BINDING ARBITRATION Got any concerns or issues? Talk to Cyberpunk 2077 support. They’ll talk it out with you and, ideally, resolve the issue without having to resort to a legal pursuit. Y’know, I wish we had this type of option in Night City… Oh, and here’s their address: https://support.cdprojektred.com/en/ IMPORTANT: Another country-specific wrinkle. If ya live in the United States of America, this section involves you and the company agreeing to ‘mandatory arbitration’ — so settling things without involving the courts. If ya live in any other country, then this arbitration process flips from ‘mandatory’ to ‘optional’. Depending on where you live, you and the corpo agree not to bring class action, or other collective legal action with your choombas, against each other. Legal issues will be handled by following the process written in the corpo text opposite. 17 OTHER LEGAL STUFF Okay, pretty simple stuff here. This whole section’s talkin’ ‘bout some more rules for the Agreement. Nothin’ to get excited about, just some extra self-explanatory info some suits wanted to put in. They always gotta add somethin’, right? 18 CHANGES TO THIS AGREEMENT Fourth rule of the streets: everything changes. This Agreement might change somewhere down the line, but if it does, the updated version will be put on the Net for all to see. The changes will come into force not long after they tell you about ‘em. Ya ain’t gonna get taken by surprise, ‘kay? If ya got somethin’ ya wanna ask about these changes, go ahead and contact [email protected] — they love to hear about that sorta stuff. Important: please remember that the full text version is what’s legally binding – the quick summary on the right is just to help you understand the legally binding version better. Have a blast in Night City, choomba.

Horror Vignettes Table of Contents

The Man and the Window (x) (Ghosts/Haunting) Refoliation (x) (Doomsday) Heartless (x) (Emergency Surgery) Electric Discharge (x) (Torture) Grandma's Basement (x) (Exploration of the Dark) Swept Away (x) (Ritual Horror) Road to London (x) (Zombies) Timmy (x) (Time Distortion) Chester, the Totally Normal Mutant Squirrel (x) (Monsters) Carnival Chaos (x) (Clowns) Grandma's Secret (x) (Aliens) Dreams and Disasters (x) (Stranded) Text Stream (x) (Stalker) Jettison (x) (Aliens) Silver Bullets (x) (Werewolves) Murder Castle Angel (x) (Ghosts) Too Much Progress Proves Dangerous (x) (Mad Science) Hacking Corporate (x) (Mind Control) The Search Party (x) (Spoilers) Sleepover (x) (Spoilers) Consequences (x) (Doomsday) The Treasure of the Sand (x) (Booby Traps) The Pumpkin Killer (x) (Serial Killer) Thirteen Ways to Die in a Warehouse (x) (Slasher) Never Have I Ever Snapped in School (x) (Insanity) The Witch Sisters (x) (Witches) Mind over Matter (x) (Torture) Assassins in the Library (x) (Hunted) My Lady of the Mists (x) (Ghosts) Luna's Guide to Immortality (x) (Vampire) Haunted Adventure (x) (Haunted House)

Haunted Adventure

           Down and down I tumbled, picking up speed only to lose it again from collisions with the tunnel walls.  My head was spinning, and if I could have seen anything, I would have gotten a headache for the dizziness for sure.  BOOM.  The noise filtered down into the tunnel as clear as day.  In my fear and confusion, I almost forgot that I was running from someone trying to kill me.  The hunter followed his first shot with a second.  Then, all was quiet.  I felt so very alone.            Finally, I spilled out onto hard ground.  I was still in some type of tunnel or cavern, but it was much larger.  I picked myself up off the ground, wincing from all of the bruises.  I felt my face, and my hand came away with blood.  There was no way I could tell for sure whether my face was bleeding, my hand was bleeding, or both.  I closed my eyes again to recenter myself.  I had escaped; I was not dead.  My primary goal needed to be getting home.            I reopened my eyes, and to my surprise, will-o-wisps bobbed in the air, casting a violet haze over everything.  I certainly welcomed the light, although I wasn’t sure if they were portents for ill or for fortune.  Without anywhere else to go, since back and up that tunnel was certainly no option at all, I began to slowly follow the illuminated path.            As I walked, my senses adjusted to my new environment.  Though I was sure there could not have been crickets down here, I could have sworn I heard the sounds of crickets in the brush.  It was such a familiar sound, I almost smiled, but then I worried that I could have somehow returned to the hunter’s property.  He might be waiting for me, hiding in one of those bushes.            Up ahead was a light, bright and almost greenish. It appeared to be my destination. However, as I approached it and it became clearer, I realized it was a giant spider web.  I pulled up short, not wanting to get stuck in a spider web after all I had been through.  The wisps bobbed up and down faster, seemingly agitated.  A gust of wind blew me forward into the spider web.            I emerged from the other side spitting and waving my hands, trying to get all of the sticky webs off me.  Turns out humans still are too big for giant spider webs in creepy caverns.  That’s when I opened my eyes and looked around in wonder.  I was no longer in a cavern, but I had emerged in a field on the edge of a graveyard.  The moon cast an eerie blue-silver glow on everything, and a low lying fog soaked up the moonbeams and came to life itself in the shifting winds.  The winds were almost mournful, reverent of the tranquility of this place of eternal rest.            There were no paths through this graveyard that I could tell, merely rows upon rows of headstones with various “Rest in Peace” messages.  Off to the left on one hill stood an old wooden church.  Glowing brightly in the moon was some sort of ward painted on the front, easily 20 feet tall.  It looked like a pentagram except someone drew 9 points.  Over the church stretched a massive tree, completely bare and warped, gnarled, and twisted into almost a protective cage over the church.            I continued along through the hazy fog until I crested another hill.  In front of me was a large crypt.  A haunting piano melody in an unplaceable minor key was coming from inside of it.  It was the first sign of activity I had yet seen. I walked into the crypt, leaving the graveyard behind.            I jumped at first, thinking I saw a ghost, but it was just some sheets rippling in the eddies of air caused by opening the door. There seemed to be no one home.  I couldn’t find the source of the music, but someone had definitely been here.  There was a fire lit in a brazier, and it cast a warm orange glow everywhere. Beside the brazier was a set of chains hanging from the ceiling.  I immediately decided not to think about them.  When I saw a human skull impaled on a spike, I blinked rapidly, shook my head, and hurried on to the next room.  Outside a window, a lightning bolt flashed.  The subsequent thunder set the chains rattling.  I wanted no part of whatever ritual this represented.            The next room had a table set up for supper, with flickering candles dancing to the melody that still echoed through the crypt. I considered the presence of a table with place settings for six to be a peculiar thing to find in a crypt, but I didn’t have long to dwell on that or on the distasteful dead flowers on that table. In front of me, perched in behind of a bowl of oddly lush looking fruit was a massive spider.  I’m not talking tarantula.  I’m talking if you shoved 20 tarantulas together and made a megatarantua. It was larger than the bowl of fruit, and it stared at me menacingly with all its eyes.  One leg at a time, it seemed to stretch.  Beside it, I realized the dinner platter was suspiciously empty. Understanding my time would be coming to an end if I lingered, I dashed out of there and into what looked to be a kitchen.            The crypt itself seemed to notice my distress, and it wasn’t happy with my uncooperation.  The very melody that had settled into my soul because distorted, dragging me to a lethal complacency.  Growing frantic, I realized there was no way out of the kitchen.  Turning around, I noticed the megatarantula had casually situated itself in the doorway, trapping me in.  There was a crack in the wall, but I surely couldn’t fit.            That’s when I noticed a bottle with a skull and crossbones on it under a fluorescent sign reading “DRINK ME.”  Heck if I was going to drink a bottle in a crypt that told me to drink it.  Then, I realized the spider was now perched on a table, mere feet from me.  I wasn’t sure how something so large could move so silently, but it put fear in my veins as surely as if it had bit me with its fangs. I grabbed the bottle, uncorked it, and gulped the fiery liquor down.            Immediately, I felt this intense pressure evenly across my whole body, like a weighted blanket.  I prayed I was shrinking small enough to fit through the crack, like in Alice in Wonderland.  Sure enough, that’s what happened.  The spider now towered over me, and I had absolutely no reason to tarry.  I sprinted through the crack.            The terrain was quite uneven.  Black ash seemed to mix with mounds of polished white stone. Every step crunched or crackled. I didn’t think the spider could follow me, but I still felt compelled to hurry.  The treacherous landscape was slowing me down, though.    As I ventured deeper through this crack, I began to realize it was a cave.  My steps were getting easier to balance and keep my footing, though the sounds of cracking under each foot were getting louder.            There was a blue green glow coming from what I hoped to be an entrance to the cave not covered in spider webs.  The light provided enough illumination to see that there was a skull on the side of the cave in front of me.  Looking down, I realized I had been crunching through a layer of discarded bones for the past few minutes.  I sincerely hoped they weren’t all human.            The cave was growing narrower as I got closer to the exit.  However, the bones were also shrinking.  That must have meant the stupid potion was already wearing off.  I had to duck my head as my shoulders began brushing off the walls of the cave.  I began to hurry faster, shifting my left shoulder forward to make my body thinner. Still, I kept growing.  I was able to reach my arms above my head in front of me to help drag me further along.            Finally, I tumbled out of the cave and sprawled on the ground.  Looking back, I couldn’t believe how thin the cave had become.  Somewhere in this awful dreamworld, there was a short-term shrinking potion.  That could have made someone a lot of money.            I was in some sort of cistern or grotto.  The blue light was coming from the moon through some holes in the chamber.  The green light was coming from these barrels, in all stages of damage. Nothing about them seemed inviting or safe.  I recognized the symbols for radioactive, biohazard, and toxic substances.  I inched my way around the chamber, looking for an exit.  That was when I glimpsed the flash off the eyes of what could only be described as a demon, a hellcat of the night.  It looked wicked with torn ears and tattooed fur.  It watched me with its oversized eyes.  It made no move to attack, content with an indifferent glare as I made it clear I wanted to in no way upset it.            A shriek filled the chamber.  The demon cat jumped up, hackles rising, and yowled.  The green sludge of the barrels seemed to glow brighter.  The demon started hissing at a darkness settling through one of the holes in the roof. The darkness coalesced into a phantom, and it was definitely malevolent.  There was hate in its warped visage.  Evidently, the demon cat hated it and feared it.            Finally finding an exit to the grotto, and sprinted into the woods.  Another loud shrieked told me the phantom was absolutely pursuing me.  The hunt was joined.  I realized my escape had not gone unnoticed, and other, very normal creatures of the night had begun chasing me, too.  I saw a swarm of bats through the trees on my right.  On my left, some white ghosts were flitting through the trees. Okay, they weren’t normal, but after what I had seen, they looked typical.  Not that I could spend much time studying them as I still tried to dodge trees and normal sized spider webs.  Faster, I sprinted in a direction I hoped would lead me to safety and away from my assailants.  The trees blurred, and quite unexpectedly, I crashed into an unseen blackness.            I jumped up, shaking and shaking myself off from the collision.  I looked around quickly, trying to figure out what happened.  I was in a graveyard.  Oh no, I was… wait, I recognized this graveyard.  It was St. Mary’s.  I knew this place.  Behind me was a hole in the earth.  Had I fallen asleep in the graveyard???  A distant scream coming through the hole made me think I had not.  The aches of my battered journey awakened with the adrenaline of the chase subsiding.  My head hurt. I touched my forehead and winced in pain.  Looking at my hand in the real moonlight, I could see my head was still bleeding.  I was safe, though.  That was what’s important.  Also, I was near to home.  I could try to figure out my nightmare the next day.  Strangely enough, I had an intact, empty bottle of poison in my pocket.  I didn’t remember taking it with me, and I could have sworn it would have shattered making it through the cave.  Here it was, though.  And if it even had a drop left in it, I might be rich. Back to Table of Contents (x)

Luna’s Guide to Immortality

           When Luna moved into the small, quaint town, it was a whole to-do.  The villagers didn’t have many people move into town with an indication they will stay awhile.  Furthermore, Luna was downright gorgeous, and everyone was captivated by her grace, long black hair, round eyes, rosy lips, and full figure.  He skin was also pale.  That, in and of itself, was not uncommon in these parts, but it provided a stunning contrast to the rest of her features.            She had no lack of visitors to her small cottage with its colorful garden and flourishing bushes.  In her first few weeks, every adult, both man and woman, had visited with her multiple times.  Every eligible bachelor made it no secret he was trying to court her.  Even the bachelors already suiting women stopped by often, with their ladies, of course, under the pretense of welcoming the new resident.  Luna also caught multiple women winking at her surreptitiously.            All of that, and she never once gave them reason to think she was interested in that sort of thing at all.  Hospitality.  Grace of form and etiquette.  These are what made her so irresistible, if any villager were to be questioned on his or her relationship with Ms. Luna.            Luna, for her part, came alive during her first season in the cottage.  The novelty of a new neighbor had worn off, but she still daily had one or a few visitors. They came at all hours of the daylight but never at meals.  Meals were the three times of day no one could get her to open her door.  Those who called upon her right before a meal were graciously led to the door, though not a single person could remember what excuse she gave for dining alone.            One day, Henry came to visit Luna in the early afternoon.  It was a bright day, and the sun was out in full glory.  However, Luna was in her house with all the curtains drawn.  Still, she was radiant.  “Luna, dear,” he was one of her more frequent callers, “the garden is looking a bit neglected.  Have you tended it recently?”            “No, I don’t suppose I have.  Do you think I should do something?”  She gestured for him to have a seat, and she pulled up a chair to sit next to him.            “It’s just they were so pretty when you moved it.  I remember how perfect the whole scene was. You’re just so beautiful, the wilting flowers just don’t fit,” he explained himself.  She watched him with an interested expression on her face.  She knew she could do nothing for the garden, but she’d make an effort for appearance sake.            “Of course.  Now I remember.  I’ll try my hand at it,” she promised.  They sat for a peaceful moment.  Henry was admiring Luna, and Luna sat straight with her head cocked, not looking at anything.  Ostensibly, she was considering how to improve her garden.  She broke the silence.  “How’s your back doing, Henry?  I remember you mentioning it has been stiff lately.”            “Oh dear, not much better, I confess.  Some mornings, I can barely get out of bed.”            “You’re too young to be dealing with such things,” she joked light heartedly.  Indeed, Henry only had 26 years to him, but he had seemed to be aging quite fast. Luna looked at him and noticed the number of grey hairs had yet again multiplied.  She smiled at him and absent-mindedly ran her fingers through her lush hair.  The overall effect was Luna seeming to enjoy her time with Henry.  Oh, she was enjoying her time alright, but in a very different way than he was.            The time came for the evening meal, and Luna said, “Alright, Henry, it was so lovely of you to visit, but I’m afraid it’s time to say goodbye.”  Henry nodded and stood stiffy.  Luna accompanied him to the door, and he left with a polite goodbye.  A few seconds later, Henry found himself on the road, wondering, not for the first time, how he got there.            The next day, another of Luna’s frequent visitors paid her a visit. “Trying to save your garden, I see?” called out Millie when she noticed Luna digging in the dirt around some flowers. Indeed, she was not trying to save the flowers, just look like it.  She’d been swirling her fingers around between three holes she dug for an hour.            Luna looked up, “Oh, Millie, how nice of you to stop by. I was just finishing up.  Why don’t you head inside and make yourself comfort, and I’ll be in in a minute or two.”  Luna wiped the dirt off her hands and dunked them in a bucket of water to clean them.  She dumped out the entire bucket on a bush and went inside, leaving the bucket.            Millie looked distinctly uncomfortable as she kept fidgeting in a vain effort to get comfortable.  “What is it, Millie?  Is something bothering you?”         ��  “Well, yes.  I know you’re not a doctor or a priest, but I feel like I can tell you things.”            “Of course,” Luna smiled kindly, and all of Millie’s agitated energy faded.            “My husband has been gone for months, as you know. Off studying at the university.” She paused.            “I remember.  He was packing up the day I moved here,” Luna filled the pause gracefully.            “Oh dear, Luna, I think I might be pregnant.”            “How exciting!  Congratulations.  Does your husband know yet?”            “That’s the problem.  I wasn’t pregnant when he left.”  Luna waited for her to continue.  “And I swear I haven’t lain with anyone since.”            “So what makes you think you’re pregnant?” ask Luna, slowly reaching her hand towards Millie.  “I didn’t notice you showing.”            “It’s not that.  I haven’t had my period in months.”  Luna could tell she was close to hysterics.            “Millie, dear, there are plenty of reasons to miss your period.  Have you been stressed?”  Millie shook her head no.  “Really? Because being apart from my significant other would stress me out.  Tell me, do you have any aches, pains?  Noticed your hair falling out?”            “Well, yes,” Millie looked up, straight at the beautiful Luna.  “All of it. My back has been aching for a month. Every day, it seems like a clump of my hair falls out.”            “It doesn’t show,” Luna assured Millie.            “You really think it’s just stress?” Millie asked, still dubious, but with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.            “I really do,” replied Luna adamantly.            “Good, thank you.  I feel better.  Now I really must be going.  Thank you for talking to me, Luna.  Have a lovely day!” and she hurried off to whatever errand she had.            It was late fall, and people seemed to have all forgotten Luna ever had a garden in the first place.  Its death was so slow that it could have hardly been noticed. Besides, there seemed to be a crippling plague running rampant through the city.  Everyone was either haggard from the effects of it or haggard from supporting an ill loved one.  Only Luna seemed perfectly untouched by it.  If anyone noticed, they might have said she even looked younger, but no one noticed.            One cloudy day, Luna went out for a stroll. “Henry?  You’re looking like an old man!”  Henry had been arguing with a street vendor and turned to start with her, until he realized Luna had addressed him.  A smile bloomed on his face, creasing his skin, and he did his best to straighten up and pretend he didn’t need the cane both hands were using to support him.            “Luna!  You look as lovely as ever.  What’s your secret?  Did you steal my youth?” he joked.            She smiled in response.  “You need to take care of yourself.  You should be at home resting and recovering.”            “If I did that, how could I see you?  My visits are the only thing that gives me joy these days. I couldn’t bear even the thought of not seeing you.”  Luna replied with a polite frown, as if flattered but unable to understand the logic behind it.            “I might know a trick that can help your back. Why don’t you stop by later?  I found a book on physical medicine that might help.”            “Really?” the hope spread across his face, wrinkling it even more.  “Thank you. Yes, I shall be there.”  He stayed upright until she resumed her stroll, then he hunched over his cane and hobbled home to get ready.            Two days later, Millie stopped by, looking much worse for the wear.  She had not been pregnant, so she told herself it was stress.  Even after her husband returned, her hair was still falling out.  Now, she had a few straggly strands still sticking out of her hair.  Her eyes were puffy.  That was new, Luna noted.            “Did you hear?” Millie asked Luna as she sank into a chair.  Luna waited for her to go on.  “Poor Henry died yesterday.  So young. He only just celebrated his 27th birthday.  He looked awful.”            “Oh my!” exclaimed Luna.  “But I saw him just yesterday.  He looked so much better than he has in weeks.”            “Word is that he made it home and collapsed with a really faint heartbeat.  His parents had to move him into his bed.  He couldn’t get up and then died yesterday morning.”            “That’s so sad.  I shall miss him dearly.  Does the family have funeral plans?”  They spoke a bit longer about details and the strange plague and the people falling ill. Millie explained she had fears, too. Luna tried to comfort her by telling her she had nothing to worry about.  It would all end up alright.            “Thank you, really,” said Millie, at the door.  She leaned in and kissed Luna on the cheek. She was about to pull back, but then decided to embrace Luna in a hug.  Luna wrapped her arms around Millie and smiled.  Millie felt a pleasant numbing sensation soothing away the aches that had worsened every day.  Luna broke off the hug, still smiling.  Millie had tears in her eyes.  “I don’t know what I would do without you.”            Those were the last words Luna heard Millie say. She died that evening in the arms of her husband, wishing they were the arms of Luna.  Luna, for her part, acted surprised and sad to hear of Millie’s death. However, though Luna would never admit it, things couldn’t have been going any better.  Immortality was such an easy thing. Back to Table of Contents (x)

My Lady of the Mists

           It was like someone had aerosolized Halloween. I was wading through the fog of a crisp night in a foreboding woods.  The bright moon was scattered, reflected, and refracted by the water droplets in the mists and was obscured by the tall trees, only silhouettes and imposing black shapes in the distance.  I couldn’t see 15 feet in front of me, but I was supposed to find her in this.            The mists enveloped me, filling my lungs with a humid heaviness as I tried to make my way through.  The fog was thickest on the ground, completely preventing me from seenig what lay on the ground beneath.  It was a miracle I hadn’t tripped over a root or stumbled into a ditch. Further about the ground, the fog wasn’t as thick, and I could make out black shapes, animated by the moonbeams and shifting mists.            My lady Annabeth was out here somewhere.  Her moonsilk dress teased of translucence. Her golden hair shimmered like the dew in the morning.  Her eyes were like the crystalline seas of Neptune.  Her voice would be the one to greet my homecoming every evening.  She was lost in the woods, trapped by a spell.            I dared not cry out for fear of awakening the beasts and terrors that roamed these woods at night.  I may have been as invisible as they were to me, but a raising a distress beacon was sure to attract unwanted attention.            I wove my way through trees, expecting to see a clearing or my sweet Annabeth somewhere.  Instead, all I got was more mist, illuminated by the full moon.  An unknown fiend could have stood motionless, and I would have walked right up to it thinking it were a tree.  I crept along, quiet and surefooted, searching for any sort of sign Annabeth had walked that way.            Finally, I did come upon a clearing.  The gravity of a forlorn night pulled the fog to the grass, and I could just make out the trees all along the clearing.  It was a long shot from clarity, but it gave me enough to see that there was a shape off to the left that wasn’t a tree.  The top part moved and held that position for a few seconds.  Then, it floated off, back into the trees behind it.  I dashed across the clearing after it, wondering if it could have been my Annabeth.            I reached the other side and barreled right through the trees, oblivious to the sting of branches on my arms and praying I didn’t trip over roots.  I lost her, somehow, behind these tress.  I was so close.  Slowing down, I looked around closely.  I turned methodically, scanning as far as the dense haze allowed to identify the best route to take.  On the path behind me, I saw a figure.  She had the silhouette of a woman in a dress, and my heart leapt for joy.  It must have been my Annabeth.            I approached slowly, tentatively, scared to trigger magic that might make her float out of my life forever.  She looked up at me, and reached out her hand.  The air filled with the honey sweet song of her voice, beckoning me to come and save her.  I hurried up my pace.  I was almost upon her when I realized her mossy hair was full of sticks.  But my Annabeth has blonde hair!  She opened her moonstone eyes and a blood red mouth full of teeth.  I pulled up short three feet from her, but I was too close.            She disappeared in a cloud of mist that at once expanded like an explosion and threw me back into a tree.  I heard a crack and was relieved to realize it was the tree and not one of my bones.  I stood up, wincing, as I took stock of what ached, stung, and throbbed.  Verifying I had full utility of my faculties, I looked up. In front of me were two more apparitions of the mists.  Panning my head, I realized I was surrounded by them.  There had to be at least ten, and they all looked like my Annabeth.            Well, except for one off to the back left side. She was wearing a crimson dress. I knew her to be another imposter. That left another nine, and hopefully one was my Annabeth.  Unfortunately, I didn’t know if I’d survive a second mistake of judgment.  I only lived through the first one because a tree sacrificed itself for me.  I had to be more discerning.  There were nine around me, all singing to my heart.  I’d recognize her voice anywhere, but one imposter had it wrong.  Her voice was deep like an ancient forest, so I ruled her out.  Before my eyes, she vanished into the mists.            Turning to inspect the next apparition, I tried to figure out what was wrong with her.  She seemed just like my Annabeth.  I didn’t want to tarry, but I just didn’t have the confidence anymore. I kept looking.  The girl beside her didn’t even have legs underneath her dress. I had no idea how it took me so long staring at her to realize that.  Even as I passed to look at the next one, I noticed her fly backwards into the oblivion of night.            I ruled out another two for having buttons for eyes and vacant voids instead of eyes.  Five, I halved the field.  Bolstered in my confidence that one must be an enchanted Annabeth, I was sure I only needed to discount 4 more.  I walked closer to the first spirit I thought might have been Annabeth to get a closer look. As I did, she smiled, and I saw her mouth was full of fangs.  I jumped backwards like a cat that almost stepped in a puddle.            Four familiars surrounded me, all convincingly looking like my Annabeth.  “Annabeth?” I whispered, trying to draw out the right one.  It was no use; all four cocked their heads at me.  Actually, it did have some usefulness.  I realized one fake Annabeth’s head wasn’t even attached to her body.  Her body shimmered and wavered, growing translucent.  The head dropped into the mists, and I swear I heard a splash.            For a second, all three remaining apparitions rippled before regaining tangibility.  It seemed my time was running out; the moon has begun to set.  I considered each woman, sure my heart would lead me to my true love’s.  One woman just did not resonate with my heart, and as soon as I discounted her, she shattered in a million shards of hate and fury.  Having made up my mind, I approached the woman of the mists on the left.            She came alive in my presence, eager to see me and touch me.  I reached out to take her hand, and I found there was soft flesh in my hand.  She had been real, and I had found my Annabeth. “We can’t stay her, or we’ll be lost forever,” she said, and then she turned back towards the clearing.  She began to pull me in a tight grip, and it was all I could do to stay standing.            After hours of carefulness to dodge the roots, I forgot all caution in my haste.  My foot snagged a root, and I was held frozen, suspended in the air.  My foot was caught, stretched out, and Annabeth had my hand.  She turned at the sudden resistance.  Maybe she thought I had second guesses.  Maybe she couldn’t see the root.  Either way, she snarled at me to hurry up.  It was a most unpleasant and ungracious sound.  I shook my head, realizing I had made the wrong choice. This wasn’t my Annabeth at all. My realization only infuriated her more as she grew in size and I resisted her pull.            Then, I felt firm arms around my waist, pulling me backwards.  I leaned into the familiar bosom and lilac meadow aroma.  Two against one, we managed to break free of the fiend surely trying to take me to my demise.  With her defeat, she screamed an earsplitting lament and imploded like a vacuum sucking all of the fog into nothingness.            In the clear light of the moon, I saw I wasn’t snagged on a root at all.  Annabeth’s arms were around my waist, and her head was on my shoulder, but all I could see were the milky whites remains of those who had chosen wrong before me. “But how?  What was the difference?” I murmured into the golden locks.            “She had a dead heart of hate, but my heart has undying love for you, my dear.” Back to Table of Contents (x)

Assassins in the Library

           In such an easy place to lose oneself, Collin was having a problem with not being found.  He peeked around the bookcase, looking both ways before darting down the next aisle of books.  It was supposed to be a simple game of Assassins that his university organized. He had the name of someone he was supposed to touch with a spoon in order to “kill” them and acquire their target. However, more pressing on his mind was that someone in this library was trying to find him and kill him.            The worst part about this was he wasn’t sure who was exactly trying to get him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen a group of five guys enter the library, exchange words, and then split up.  Collin tried to act it cool, intentionally letting them see him from a safe distance away as he appeared distracted by some books.  One of the guys started walking towards him, and that was all Collin’s paranoia needed in order to prove to him he was in danger.            He took a roundabout path back to the front doors and noticed one of the guys from the group was casually standing in front of the door.  There was no way he could get out.  At best, he’d be noticed and tracked.  At worst, he’d be caught and detained while he waited for his assassin to return to finish him off.  Collin kept to the edges of the room and went to find one of the side exits.            The next one he checked also had one of the guys standing in front of it.  He was talking to a pretty girl, but Collin couldn’t hear the words clearly enough. He looked distracted, but that was likely a rouse.  Collin began to worry that each door was guarded.  Then, he realized that meant there was only one guy chasing him.  The library had four floor, and Collin knew them all pretty well.  He noted the assassins didn’t look like the type of people who spent free time in the library, so he could use that to his advantage.  He couldn’t escape, not yet.  He didn’t know exactly what the assassin after him looked like.  He just had to wait it out for an opportunity for one of the men to have to ditch his post from boredom, hunger, or the call of nature. Eventually someone would have to go to class.            He just had to keep moving, doubling back and returning to places he had already been.  Every person in every aisle could be a killer.  Everyone was a suspect.  He joined a group of upperclassmen as they walked down the stairwell from the fourth floor.  They passed a guy walking up the stairs.  Collin noticed he’d turned his head to look at each of them before continue up the stairs. Then, the guy did a double take and looked straight at Collin.  He couldn’t panic, though he felt his adrenaline levels rising.  The guy, definitely the assassin, turned around at the top of the steps and followed the group.            When Collin reached the third floor, he casually took his leave and entered the central hallway.  The door shut behind him, he hurried to the bathroom to disappear before the assassin entered the hallway.  He couldn’t tell if the stairwell door had opened or not, but he knew he had to hide just in case the assassin thought to check the men’s room.            Sure enough, about 11 seconds later, the bathroom door opened.  Collin heard the first stall door crash open.  This guy was enjoying it.            “You’re out of the public eye, Collin Markley.  You don’t want to know what I could do to you if no one is watching,” the main taunted.  He had the carefree ease of a predator, sure his prey had fallen into his trap.  Another stall door crashed open.  “I’ve picked out a set of nice, metal spoons, just for you.”  He made the point by tapping a metal spoon to some metal surface in the bathroom.  He let the ring finish before kicking in the final stall door.  “I can gut a pumpkin with one of these, and I can get you.” Still, the assassin couldn’t find Collin.            “Okay, I know he’s on the third floor, but it’s possible he escaped down… yes, I’m ready for you to come up… Ryan, I need you to ride the elevator up to the third floor.  That way, he can’t sneak past us… no, I need you to stay at the front door, but Brandon, I need you to walk up the steps… no, you wait at the 2nd floor elevator exit stairwell, and Charlie, you join me on the third floor by the stairwell.  We’ll flush him out…. Yeah, good.”            Convinced his plan was working and they’d trap Collin on the third floor, the assassin left the bathroom to wait by the stairs. Collin held his breath a few seconds longer before releasing it in a huge sigh of relief.  He had planned to hide in a stall, but he noticed the keys were in the janitor’s closet.  It proved to serendipitously be a better choice.  Still, he had to get out of the bathroom undetected and leave through one of the 3, now-unguarded doors.  Somehow, knowing his assassin’s plan did not make it easier for him.            Collin knew he couldn’t stay on the third floor, even if the assassin though the bathroom was unoccupied.  It was only a matter of time.  He had to hope the assassin wasn’t paying much attention to the bathroom door. The assassin knew what he looked like, but maybe the others weren’t so sure.  Perhaps they hadn’t even seen him in his clothes that day.  There were plenty of people in blue jeans and a university logo t-shirt.  He quietly opened the bathroom door and looked out.  Sure enough, the assassin’s focus was on the stairwell and elevator. Collin slipped out and eased the door closed soundlessly.  Then, he tip toed back into the shelves of books.            His plan was a risky one; he’d have to wait until the assassin and his friend split up to search for him.  He’d have to get past them unseen, and then he’d need to appear innocent, walking past the floor guards.  So, he waited.  A minute later, he heard the voice he recognized belonged to the assassin.  He must have been talking to Charlie.  They were searching, making their way towards where he was hiding.  He just needed to see which way they went so he could make a break for it.            Collin pushed aside a book so he could get a better view.  Both guys looked way more athletic than he did, which didn’t bode well for a chase. There was a sound of a book falling to the assassin’s left.  Collin peered, trying to follow what happened.  The assassin stooped down and picked it up.  He handed it to a junior librarian who muttered a “thank you” before continuing to wherever he was going.  However, after that exchange, there was a new glint in the assassin’s brown eyes.  He nodded to Charlie to go right while he went left.            Collin gulped.  Somehow, the assassin had figured out where he went.  Now, he’d be cornered.            “There you are,” came a familiar, chilling voice. “I thought I warned you about being caught without any witnesses.”  Collin doubled over at an impact to his waist and went flying, sliding to a stop on the floor six feet away.  He looked up at his assassin.  He took his time picking from among a variety of spoons between his fingers, resembling a Freddy Kruger who took up cooking.  Picking a spoon, he smiled.  He raised the spoon above his head and brought it down on Collin hard. Back to Table of Contents (x)

Mind over Matter

           I’m afraid of drowning, Keagan had admitted that during freshman orientation when the question came up.  It was a relatively safe answer.  It wasn’t embarrassing, and it wasn’t likely to ever happen since he refused to go in the ocean.  That had been a couple of months ago, far before he met any of these people. Far before he pledged a fraternity.            Nu Eta Sigma was full of nice guys, but they went hard on the hazing.  Roger, NHS president, was a clever man.  Keagan had no idea how he knew, but he was staring at the university pool.  The look on Roger’s face added to Keagan’s growing fear.            “Brother Nate, please prepare the pledge for initiation,” Roger instructed.  An upperclassman named Nate approached carrying what appeared to be some dumbbells from the gym.  He attached a rope to the dumbbells and tied the other end around his ankles.            “Isn’t there anything else you could do to me? Anything at all that doesn’t involve water?  I’ll drink alcohol.  I’ll streak through campus.  Please,” Keagan whispered rapidly to Nate.  Nate looked up into his worried face and shook his head no.  It’s possible he could have been apologetic, but it was unlikely.            “The choice has been made.  I recommend you hold your breath,” Nate responded in a loud enough voice that other NHS members could hear.  Then, in a lower voice, he added, “I’ll try to buy you a few seconds.”  He stood up and took two steps back.  He turned to look at Roger and nodded once.            “Pledge Keagan, you have been with us since rush week. You have shown yourself to be dedicated to these dear brothers.  You have learned to respect us and our heritage, and in turn, you have been respected by my brothers as a pledge.  Tonight, it’s time to be respected as a fellow brother,” Roger spoke to the assembled fraternity, even though he was addressing Keagan.  When he turned to look Keagan in the eyes, Keagan knew this man would enjoy this.  “Pledge Keagan, your initiation is short and sweet.  You will be trapped in this pool for two and a half minutes.  It’s totally doable if you calm your mind first and take a few deep breaths.  We’ll cut you loose when time is up.  You have one minute.”            Keagan had one minute to try and shove aside the fear of drowning.  He tried to tell himself that these guys would save him if he about to die.  He believed them to be good people.  It was an unconvincing argument, but it did the trick enough for him to steel himself.  He began taking deep breaths, trying to get as much oxygen into his longs as possible.  Two and a half minutes seemed like a really long time.  He tried to think about it.  The average turnpike tunnel was about a mile, he figured.  He could hold his breath for that.  A mile takes a minute at 60 miles per hour.  Still, that paled in comparison to these two and a half minutes.            “Times up.  Brother Nate, if you could do the honors.”  Nate walked over to the weights on the ground.  They weren’t light.  There was no way Keagan could swim to the surface with them tied to his ankles.            “When you feel like you’re about to explode, breathe out a little bit at a time,” Nate whispered now that he was close again. “And when you feel like you’re going to explode again, breathe out, even if you’ve got nothing left.  Hold on for a few more seconds, and your time will be up.” Keagan continued hyperventilating.            “When I say go, I’m going to start the clock.  Brother Nate will roll the weights into the pool. Oh, Pledge Keagan,” Roger looked up from his cell phone.  “One last thing.  I recommend jumping in when those weights fall.  You don’t want to start this with being dragged in.”  He returned his attention to his cell phone.  “Brother Nate, on the count of three.  One… Two… Three!”            Nate gave the weights a budge.  They rocked but didn’t roll over the edge into the pool. “Brother Nate?” called Roger.            “Slippery, one sec,” replied Nate.  He push harder and launched the weights into the pool. Keagan watched the rope unfurl and knew he had to act.  He took one last breath on a full breath and jumped in.            The water was cold but not frigid.  Keagan kept his mouth closed and pinched his nose.  He wished he had worn his waterproof watch, but he left it in the dorm afraid it might get lost or damaged in the hazing. He never expected this form of tubbing. Eyes also closed, Keagan focused on exerting as little effort as he could.  He needed to save every bit of oxygen if he wanted to survive this.            Yes, that’s what it had come to, fifteen seconds in. The panic telling him he’s going to die even as he still feels fine.  His goal isn’t to join NHS; his sole goal is to survive.            Counting the seconds, he lost track around 40 seconds when he wondered if he had restarted from 39 to 30 or skipped numbers or… he didn’t know anymore.  It was only driving his panic higher.  He consciously stopped himself from flailing his arms.  He was still feeling alright.  It definitely had begun to feel like he was holding his breath.            The temperature of the water felt like it was getting colder, but that was the least of his discomfort.  One minute, five seconds in, and his ankles being bound to the weights started to make him feel trapped.  He didn’t even care that everyone was watching him.  He reached down to his ankles and tested the knots. After fiddling for a few seconds, he gave up.  He would waste too much effort on them.  He had to last it out.  More than half of his time had passed; he just needed to hold on.            The urge to breathe and the urge to swallow were pounding like a hammer trying to get out of a cage.  The thoughts were overruling.  He didn’t want to die.  He wasn’t even focusing on his fear anymore.  Keagan’s singular thought was to breathe.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t.  He lost track of how much time was left, but Nate’s words bounced around in his head. If he could exhale a little bit, it should buy him a few more seconds.  But is it too early, he wondered.  Will I be throwing away too much oxygen?  It didn’t matter, he felt like he was going to explode.  Slowly, carefully, he blew a few bubbles out of his mouth and watched them rise to the surface.  He glimpsed the wavering silhouettes of the NHS brothers standing around the pool, staring at him.  The relief from the bubbles was not as much as he had hoped, but he hadn’t exploded yet. Importantly, he hadn’t gotten any water in his mouth.  The tension built up again, and he released a few more bubbles.            He knew he could do it.  He had to do it.  He felt himself exhale, without even willing it.  All of his focus was on not breathing.  That was it, he was out of air in his lungs.  It had bought him a few seconds.  Accompanying the overwhelming urge to breathe was now a pain in his lungs and a slight headache.  He clenched his eyes shut as the pressure built again, and he shook his head. He couldn’t take it.  His eyes shot wide open, but he was oblivious to the stinging chlorine.            He opened his mouth and cold water rushed in.  He tried to do what Nate suggested, by breathing out when he had nothing left.  Second after second, he kept the water at bay.  Precious seconds his silent scream from rock bottom was the only thing preventing the water from entering his lungs.  Spent, he clamped his mouth shut, but there was still water in his mouth.  Automatically, he tried to breathe in through his nose.  Thankfully, he still had his fingers pinching it shut.            Through the effort, some water from his mouth entered his larynx, triggering a coughing fit.  With no air to cough out, he sucked the mouthful of water into his lung.  He coughed it out and started flailing.  He couldn’t even feel the ripples in the water has two brothers jumped in with large rigging knives.  He could feel their arms around him as they lifted him to the surface only a few feet away.            He surfaced gagging and coughing, unable to control himself or stay above the water on his own.  His mind was everywhere and nowhere.  His lungs were on fire.  As the brothers swam him to land, he overhead someone say “Well done, Brother Keagan.” It was followed by a loud noise and a lot of hands pulling him out of the water. Back to Table of Contents (x)

my friends are making fun of me so rb this with the number of tabs you have open i’ll go first 42

The Witch Sisters

           “Thanks for stopping by, Edward.  Have a safe journey home,” Olga called after a man in his thirties leaving the cottage she shared with her sisters, Agatha and Hagatha. She turned around and announced to the house, “time to open up for business for the day.”  Her sisters floated in from wherever they had spent their mornings.  Agatha gestured lazily at the closed sign in front of the window.  It flipped around to read “OPEN.”            A few minutes later, they got their first customer of the day.  It was a familiar poor farmer who claimed that his cow died, and it was hard to provide a means to live for his family.  “Please, Sisters, can you bring back my cow?”            “What’s dead is dead,” said Olga.            “It cannot be brought back,” said Agatha.            “But we can still help you with your troubles.  Do you have payment?” asked Hagatha.            “Yes, Sisters,” the man ruffled around in a sack. He withdrew a cowbell that belonged to his late cow and horsebane.  The cowbell was for the spell; the horsebane was for the witches’ stockpile.  The farmer came by pretty often with requests, big and small alike.  He soon realized that growing his own herbs and reagents made him as useful to the witches as they were to him.  Agatha took the horsebane with a smile and left the room.            Hagatha took the cowbell and placed it between to two candles.  Agatha returned, and the three sisters joined hands and chanted a few lines.  “It’s done.  A new cow you shall have,” declared Hagatha.            “In fact, I think it’s out at your cart right now. You better go get it,” Olga said with a smirk.  The farmer bid them farewell and left the cottage.  He cried out in astonishment and then frustration when he saw the cow, pleasantly distracted at his cart, messing with his lunch.            The witches’ magic was true.  Whatever they said they’d do would happen.  However, they enjoyed mischief too much.  There was always a catch to whatever spell they wove. Many times, it involved something awkward or embarrassing, and the witches took satisfaction in that.  Other times, the witches voluntarily misinterpreted the request.  The outcome was as requested, but it didn’t always align with what the costumer had in his or her mind.            After the farmer’s cart disappeared around the bend, a man on horseback rode up to their cottage.  He was no one they knew.  “I hear you lovely ladies can work some magic.”            “That we can,” said Agatha.            “For the right price,” Hagatha reminded no one in particular.            “What is it you’re seeking?” asked the new man.            “Well, you need a token to represent your request. Then, payment is usually herbs or hard-to-find reagents.  We also accept gold.  It always comes in handy,” explained Olga.            The man chuckled, “it certainly does, doesn’t it? Well, that’s actually why I’m here. I was hoping you could whip up a potion to make me really lucky tonight in the gambling hall.”            Olga rolled her eyes.  Hagatha spoke up, “we certainly can.  What do you have for us?”            The man considered it.  “Well, if I want to hit it big, I think a coin would be a good token. Let’s see, for payment.”  He paused, checking about his person for anything the witches might fancy.  “I have this pendent with vampire bat teeth.  My father said it would ward against diseases of the blood.  Will you take it?”            “Oh, we can certainly find a use for it,” Agatha snatched the pendent.            “It looks like we have our payment.  Come inside and we’ll whip you up that potion.” Hagatha stood back to allow the man to enter the main room.            In fifteen minutes, he was out the door, hopeful and excited for a night the witches promised he would hit it big.  The potion, naturally, had side effects. They just didn’t disclose those to this man.            There was an hour lull before a pretty, young girl walked in their front door.  “Ahh, fine day to you, Isabell, what brings you to us this morning?” asked Hagatha. The witches knew her and her husband well.  They stopped by regularly, sometimes just to talk and sometimes for something more.            “I wish it were a fine day,” said Isabell bitterly. “But I’ve learned of late that my husband is out and about with some harlot.  His heart has been seduced by someone no doubt far prettier than me.  I want him back.  I want his heart back to loving me.”            “Nonsense,” Agatha tried to help.  “You’re beautiful.  He’d be a fool to leave you.”            “Yeah, a fool,” murmured Olga quietly.

           “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Hagatha empathetically. “I think I know just the thing to fix this.  Do you have what we need?”            “Yes, Hagatha,” nodded Isabell.  She handed her some strands of hair.  “I found these on my husband this morning.  They’re surely not mine.  I also have warts from a toad and the venom sack of an asp.”            “Very nice, very nice, indeed,” said Agatha eagerly. She took the items from Isabell.            “Actually, dear sister, I’m going to need a few warts for the spell,” Hagatha plucked the bottle out of Agatha’s hand.  “While you’re stowing the venom gland, can you fetch me some tears of a child and a bit of ginger?”            Agatha returned with the items, and Hagatha tossed them into a pot of water she had put over the fire.  “Olga, are you tired?  You haven’t said much?” asked Agatha.            “Yes.  That must be it,” Olga replied, hesitantly.  The pot had begun to boil, and Hagatha was stirring it evenly.  She tilted the pot and poured some of the contents into a bowl.            Hagatha beckoned Isabell over, and together, they sat with the bowl between them, hands resting on the edges.  “Now, repeat after me,” Hagatha told Isabell.  Hagatha proceeded to dictate a spell incantation, and Isabell did her best to follow along.  The last line Isabell had to repeat went on forever.  She was sure she made a mistake or two, but Hagatha’s expression never changed.  It’s entirely possible Isabell’s words weren’t even needed.  “It is done,” declared Hagatha.            “RIBBET,” came the croak of a toad somewhere in the room.            “Hey, where’s Olga?” asked Agatha. Back to Table of Contents (x)