Into the free. a pyre or rage burning.
Friday 06:00
Melody was true to her word; she had walked me home as soon as the light was strong enough to break through the heavy canopy suspended over the forest by the ancient trees. From the early light I could see the roughly built house, no bigger than a play house from the outside, crafted from any materials at hand. Mud filled in cracks around the sides as weather proofing and tarpaulins acted as repairs to the roof. A small out building made up of wine bottles, jars and other round glass stuck together with mortar and wooden poles formed a square one metre by two metres and as tall as a man. The light from this building casting rainbows or coloured light around the small clearing.
It wasn't a long walk, and Melody seemed to be squatting on Xanthic's estate further into the woods than is easily visible or directly accessible from the paths leading beautifully managed to the house. That or she was deliberately leading me along a confusing route of lefts and rights and sharp changes in direction. She needn't of worried if she were as each tree looked the same to me and I soon had no idea where I was nor how to turn around and re-find her home.
We were both extreamly silent on the journey home, this gave me time to reflect on what was a hazy and rapidly evaporating memory of last night. I was holding a spell book, although Melody informed me in a matter-of-fact tone it was a ward book as it offered protections and not a method of projecting ones will or power over the world.
The Ara Custodia Arx was old. No one knew where it first came from or by whose hand it was first written; copies, or more accurately fragments of passages that create it, have turned up all over the world many different materials. The eye, in its lesser form according to Melody, has been seen in Egyptian culture on papyrus and carved into solid rock, its on medieval tomes and in South American temples to unknown Gods. Its origin may be clouded in mystery and fog but its meaning is well understood by those that have made it their mission to know. The "eye" was of protection or to be more exact it was a statement that whatever or whoever carried the symbol was being watched over by something with power. I thought this was ancient graffiti saying my gang is bigger than your gang so stay off my turf - this I believe is closer to its meaning than the expert opinion.
The extras, especially the runes, markings or squiggles (no-one knew what they were) were the clearest examples know to Melody, this led to an uncomfortable half hour of the older woman taking photos, sketching and poking my breast to try and understand their meaning. I had worries some of these pictures would end up on the internet and exploded poster sized reproductions of my tattooed left boob would festoon young wiccan and goth teenage boys darkened bedrooms for years to come.
After the intimate examination I had more tea, more sugar was piled into it along with Melody's than I had used in five years, but it tasted good for it. I commented how fortunate it was for me she had the kettle on when I turned up cold and wet.
"It was no coincidence Valentine, I knew you were coming." Came the reply.
I was shocked to know she knew I would be out in the woods that night. She was more witchlike than anyone I had ever know, with little effort she emitted "Witch" more than my old Wicca group who spent a fortune on trying to look the part.
"Don't look so glazed." Melody continued reading me like an open book, in large print with a audio accompaniment and a signed interpreter. "I didn't have to exert myself, you came stumbling so loud in the night signalling your presence that I had time to fill the kettle and wait for you to arrive. Someone of your line should be more at ease in her surrounding and only let herself be known when and more importantly if you want to be know."
''What do you think a witch is?'' She asked me as we were sat in her cottage. The following silence bore down on me forcing an answer to form on my lips before my brain could begin to work on any answer verging on the inteligent.
''Night, um, black hat......look I know about witchcraft I have studied the subject since school........cat.''
The look that followed could have cut diamonds.
''Hm.'' Melody took the book off me at that point and my head cleared from the thundering strings and I felt like a small child had been removed from my arms.
''A witch you will not be; such a waste of potential but fate has other ideas." She said almost to herself in gentle words. They felt like a hard punch to the stomach.
I had obviously displeased her, but how was I, let alone anyone supposed to concentrate with something as outstanding as that book in my hands? I was suddenly so angry I could not wait to get out of the house, to contact Xanthic, to run and shout and punch things. I knew I wouldn't be a witch, I was Xanthic's aide but being told I wouldn't kicked me emotionally to the ground and a burning pyre stoked by the anger of opportunities lost and doors being closed to me. I was in half a mind to call Xanthic as soon as my phone was connected to a power supply and demand he instigate a development plan or get me into a witch night school or something; he knew everyone (or of them at least) so he must be able to help me. Ok, I hadn't discussed any of this with him or how I felt around people of his kind, but he must have seen something in me to have offered me this job in the first place and......How dare she, this Melody, condem me on the back of five minutes. The miserable of bitch.
The very first blue broke though and diluted the fading blackness and I was stood ready to leave. I walked to the front door and stopped. It opened in my hand but I did not walk through, I simply looked across the threshold. Melody opened the other exit. She stood there with a hand on the door keeping it open and I turned and walked through it without making eye contact or uttering any thanks.
We walked home in silence.
Melody was true to her word; she had walked me home as soon as the light was strong enough to break through the heavy canopy suspended over the forest by the ancient trees. From the early light I could see the roughly built house, no bigger than a play house from the outside, crafted from any materials at hand. Mud filled in cracks around the sides as weather proofing and tarpaulins acted as repairs to the roof. A small out building made up of wine bottles, jars and other round glass stuck together with mortar and wooden poles formed a square one metre by two metres and as tall as a man. The light from this building casting rainbows or coloured light around the small clearing.
It wasn't a long walk, and Melody seemed to be squatting on Xanthic's estate further into the woods than is easily visible or directly accessible from the paths leading beautifully managed to the house. That or she was deliberately leading me along a confusing route of lefts and rights and sharp changes in direction. She needn't of worried if she were as each tree looked the same to me and I soon had no idea where I was nor how to turn around and re-find her home.
We were both extreamly silent on the journey home, this gave me time to reflect on what was a hazy and rapidly evaporating memory of last night. I was holding a spell book, although Melody informed me in a matter-of-fact tone it was a ward book as it offered protections and not a method of projecting ones will or power over the world.
The Ara Custodia Arx was old. No one knew where it first came from or by whose hand it was first written; copies, or more accurately fragments of passages that create it, have turned up all over the world many different materials. The eye, in its lesser form according to Melody, has been seen in Egyptian culture on papyrus and carved into solid rock, its on medieval tomes and in South American temples to unknown Gods. Its origin may be clouded in mystery and fog but its meaning is well understood by those that have made it their mission to know. The "eye" was of protection or to be more exact it was a statement that whatever or whoever carried the symbol was being watched over by something with power. I thought this was ancient graffiti saying my gang is bigger than your gang so stay off my turf - this I believe is closer to its meaning than the expert opinion.
The extras, especially the runes, markings or squiggles (no-one knew what they were) were the clearest examples know to Melody, this led to an uncomfortable half hour of the older woman taking photos, sketching and poking my breast to try and understand their meaning. I had worries some of these pictures would end up on the internet and exploded poster sized reproductions of my tattooed left boob would festoon young wiccan and goth teenage boys darkened bedrooms for years to come.
After the intimate examination I had more tea, more sugar was piled into it along with Melody's than I had used in five years, but it tasted good for it. I commented how fortunate it was for me she had the kettle on when I turned up cold and wet.
"It was no coincidence Valentine, I knew you were coming." Came the reply.
I was shocked to know she knew I would be out in the woods that night. She was more witchlike than anyone I had ever know, with little effort she emitted "Witch" more than my old Wicca group who spent a fortune on trying to look the part.
"Don't look so glazed." Melody continued reading me like an open book, in large print with a audio accompaniment and a signed interpreter. "I didn't have to exert myself, you came stumbling so loud in the night signalling your presence that I had time to fill the kettle and wait for you to arrive. Someone of your line should be more at ease in her surrounding and only let herself be known when and more importantly if you want to be know."
''What do you think a witch is?'' She asked me as we were sat in her cottage. The following silence bore down on me forcing an answer to form on my lips before my brain could begin to work on any answer verging on the inteligent.
''Night, um, black hat......look I know about witchcraft I have studied the subject since school........cat.''
The look that followed could have cut diamonds.
''Hm.'' Melody took the book off me at that point and my head cleared from the thundering strings and I felt like a small child had been removed from my arms.
''A witch you will not be; such a waste of potential but fate has other ideas." She said almost to herself in gentle words. They felt like a hard punch to the stomach.
I had obviously displeased her, but how was I, let alone anyone supposed to concentrate with something as outstanding as that book in my hands? I was suddenly so angry I could not wait to get out of the house, to contact Xanthic, to run and shout and punch things. I knew I wouldn't be a witch, I was Xanthic's aide but being told I wouldn't kicked me emotionally to the ground and a burning pyre stoked by the anger of opportunities lost and doors being closed to me. I was in half a mind to call Xanthic as soon as my phone was connected to a power supply and demand he instigate a development plan or get me into a witch night school or something; he knew everyone (or of them at least) so he must be able to help me. Ok, I hadn't discussed any of this with him or how I felt around people of his kind, but he must have seen something in me to have offered me this job in the first place and......How dare she, this Melody, condem me on the back of five minutes. The miserable of bitch.
The very first blue broke though and diluted the fading blackness and I was stood ready to leave. I walked to the front door and stopped. It opened in my hand but I did not walk through, I simply looked across the threshold. Melody opened the other exit. She stood there with a hand on the door keeping it open and I turned and walked through it without making eye contact or uttering any thanks.
We walked home in silence.
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