Why Me?

Why Me?

You are sitting someplace, be it the bus stop, in a library, at work. Doing whatever, relaxing, reflecting…etc. Basically minding your own business. Then out of seemingly no where someone comes up to you asks you an innocent question. It could be anything. ‘What time is it? Do I know you from somewhere? Hey, can you spare some change? How do I get to this place?’

Before you know it, their life story is coming out of their mouths and into your lap. Leaving you boggled at the absurd amount of information and a fair share of it is what is considered ‘Too much information’. It is as if they feel safe around you, comfortable enough to let their guard down. So they do so.

Why does that happen? You didn’t need to know that stuff, yet now you know it. All of it. Most people don’t have this sort of thing happen to them, unless you are a therapist. Why you? Why not some other person? What are you suppose to do with what you were told?

It is frustrating, like shake your hand at sky in exasperation frustrating. So what gives?

Well there is a reason for this. Take a look at life. The world around you. It is absolutely chaotic! Those that work magic, have a stability that most other people do not. They innately understand the under currents of how things work, and carve a stable platform from it. Yes, in essence you are a walking, talking, save point in the game of life.

Those that come to you and spill their guts instinctively recognize what you are. You are safe, a place to confess, vent, muse, and sort through chaos. They spend a brief time on your platform of order and are better for it. Frustrating yes, but not so bad if you understand what is happening. Those minutes change their entire world, even if you don’t say a thing. (Ever notice how you always have just enough time for the encounter?)

Sometimes you get called to action over it, sometimes the action is already taken place by you just being there. Oh, you did not sign up for this? Too late Skip, the moment your power touched this world that option was gone. No refunds. You change the world with every minute you are here, working spells or not. (Bad Sean Connery impression. ‘You are an agent of change, Mc’Cloud, accept it’.)

So what do you do with all that information? File it away. Use it. Follow up on it. Toss it. Forget it. Run screaming to the hills! It is not really a gift for you, it is them regrouping, processing, and in some cases letting go of something that burdens them. It is you that is giving them a gift, a unknown ear to speak towards.

I am bringing this up because of events in the world right now. Fear, injustice driven by it, panic, and hate. (Which is not a counter balance to this in any way.) Sounds like a huge burden, right? Well in order to change things we have to touch it, we have to touch them. You will be called into service more often as things progress. Just be ready for it. Listen much, even if you speak little in return.

English Bob,
Shade and Sweetwater

To Know, First Shadow 4

Watching Evonne storm out of the yard, William squinted. Teach her, magic? Preposterous! Fingers slowly working through the rose bush to the spot where the perfect flower had been plucked, William froze as a feminine scent reached him. With years of interaction with the dead he had trained himself not to freeze up on most cases. There were of course exceptions to the rule. Ivy wrapped in lavender betwixt with roses. Her presence always raised goose bumps on his neck, and caused his heart to beat faster. Whispering as he slowly turned to face the apparition. “Marie.”

The phantom folded her hands in front of her blurred emerald green gown, looking in the direction that Evonne had left. William could see her features clearly, signaling she was likely in a very emotional state. Reading glasses half hid the crow’s feet around her intense grey eyes. Laugh lines twisted into a sad frown, “Bill. Why is that girl upset?” Marie asked her voice like a tickling itch in William’s ear.

William shrugged, false concern filling his words. “She wanted to learn magic. I do not teach. You should not worry about her. We will not be seeing her again.”

Marie drifted close to the edge of the rosebush in front of her tombstone near the fence line. “I married a wonderful man. A powerful necromancer. I remember living well with him even though we were practically prisoners in this house.”

William felt his mouth go dry and a vice clamp over his throat. Every breath felt raw and dirty with guilt. “We had a good life together, even in the hard times.”

The apparition settled her gaze upon William, smiling sadly. “No matter how wonderful the cage, I still died a prisoner. You have a chance to free her, and yourself.”

******** ************ ************* ************

Storming down the dusty hallway William glared at the locked door at the end of the row of alcoves. The words of his departed wife ringing in his ears still as he clenched his hand into a fist to keep from shaking. The shadows played upon the door like oily snakes wrapping over the back of his frail looking hand as he closed it over the knob. Focusing, William filled the keyhole with liquid shadow. Its cold touches were invigorating as he molded the shadow to move the tumblers in the lock. The door swung silently inward revealing stairs leading down. Feeling the shadow rush over him, William let the embrace linger before snapping his fingers. The sound echoed over the space of the room as eldritch flame erupted from a dozen candles in their sconces.

Shattered glass and ruined piping littered the floor, smashed book cases leaned upon each other, spilled tomes left in a regurgitated heap near the center of the concrete floor. Gripping his cane William watched ghosts of the past flood the room, destroying his good work, confiscating relics of power. They ruined every book by throwing buckets of water upon them in the name of order and balance.

Sitting at the bottom of the steps William looked over the wreckage, regretfully as the ghosts faded once more. “I had no idea my cooperation would lead to the end of such beauty. I am so sorry.”

Leaning down he picked up a piece of shattered mirror before shaking his head and casting it back down. Sighing deeply William moved to stand, using his cane to balance. His eyes were drawn again to the broken piece of mirror, the reflection showing him the underside of the stairs. William felt his eyes narrow and a tight smile tug at his lips. “What do we have here?”

Gingerly he probed the underside of the stairs, his fingers catching on a simple screw that held a latch. Opening the latch, William held his breath. The wood slid with ease in the form of a shallow drawer revealing a thin stack of parchment. Leaning on the wall, he carefully shifted the sheets. Elegant cursive script filled the pages. Spell diagrams drawn with practiced ease. Notes, citations, cross references, and personal thoughts.

Choked with nostalgic awe, William talked to himself. “This is…these are, Marie’s novice notes on necromancy when I taught her.” Checking the under side of the stairs revealed five more compartments. “It is all here! Every basic lesson, everything I have forgotten or taken for granted!”

Hugging the pages, William yelled towards the top of the stairs, “Felix! Felix, get down here you mangy bag of fur!”

Felix flopped down on the top step of the stairs licking his feline groin, ‘What did you need, Master?’ the familiar canted with mock annoyance.

Grinning from ear to ear, William felt the pages in his arms grow warm as he addressed his familiar. “Find that girl. Then tell me where she resides.”

‘I thought you were going to let that one go, Master.’ The feline looked bored until it looked at William. Its ears folded back, it had not seen its master in such a state in years. His master’s shadow growing in the dying candle light, making the elderly man appear more menacing than ever. ‘Right! I’m on the job boss.’

To Know, First Shadow

Evonne wrapped an arm around her knees, her other hand clamped to the back of her head. Skin flushed with the heat of adrenaline, her right cheek aflame with scrapes from falling to the concrete sidewalk. Through bleary tears Evonne watched loose papers from her backpack rustle and move in the cool afternoon breeze. Sniffing hard to clear her nose she forced herself to move to round up the fleeing pages. The fire in her lungs ignited, every time she stooped low to collect the papers. Stuffing the parchment back into her pack, she sobbed in anger and shame. Every school day since Beltane that year they pursued her, hunted her, and bullied her.

Resting her hands on the steel bars of the tall fence Evonne gazed upon the two story house, its bone white asbestos siding and black roofing seemed to stare back at her. Every window shade was drawn shut save for one on the second floor that overlooked the street. Brown paint flaked off the broad front porch, its worn railing lined with dozens of potted plants alive and vibrant. The whole front yard had been transformed into rose garden complete with a pond and twin rock pile fountains. Papers from her backpack had gotten into the yard as well.

Chewing her lip Evonne winced, dabbling at her lower lip her fingers coming away with blood. Looking again at the house and swallowing hard Evonne tried the front gate. Finding it unlocked she pushed gently, the hinges squealed louder than expected. A murder of ravens burst into flight from a tree on the far left side of the yard, creating even more noise. Keeping her head low Evonne dashed for the first page, slipping on the grass. Seizing the paper she crammed it in her backpack.

The wind picked causing Evonne to miss the last page by a finger width. Scrambling to get the last page only to have it move again, the wind tossed the paper in the direction of the house. Chasing the page Evonne finally stomped on it, as she reached the bottom of the porch steps. Clutching the paper to her chest Evonne watched the house seeing no sign of activity she turned to leave. A shrill squeak escaped her lips as she nearly collided nose to forehead with someone standing behind her. Tripping backwards Evonne threw up her arms defensively awaiting an attack that was sure to come.

Seconds ticked by, Evonne slowly lowered her arms, heart still pounding rapidly. Standing the stone walk way stood an elderly man perhaps in his mid seventies. Dressed in a heavily stained jogging suit of gray with a red polyester sports jacket his feet clad in dirty slippers. Hardened smoky blue eyes squinted. His uneven facial hair and goatee rustled forming an unseen frown. Overhead a raven cawed, the man slowly held out his hand as an object fell into it. Evonne gazed at the man, her eyes lowering towards his shadow, which was darker and deeper than any shadow had a right to be. It almost looked alive, as if it could act on its own at any given moment.

Daring a gaze back up at the man, Evonne spied the elderly man looking at the object in his hand. A broken chain dangled between his fingers. Her pentacle! Feeling her neck and finding it missing the urge to say something to the man overwhelmed her and stammered. “Excuse me…I think…I think that is my pentacle you have there.”

The eyes of the man darted towards Evonne. Folding the chain into his palm he closed his hand shut. Taking a stiff step forward he leaned heavily upon a cane to steady himself. Evonne moved to her feet, she found that she was taller than the elderly man. Despite his age and appearance he carried himself with an air of majesty. An aura of personality radiated from him, confident, calculating and cold. Opening his hand he held the simple pentacle out to her, his voice clear and steady. “You should be more careful with your belongings. There are thieves about.”

Taking the pentacle Evonne shivered, wiping at her eyes. Looking for the break in the chain she failed to find it. She could have sworn it had been broken, her tear strained eyes moved back to the man finding him no longer standing in the walkway. “Thank you.” Evonne whispered softly.

The man’s cane thudded on the steps to the front porch as he slowly ascended the steps. Somehow he had gotten around her with her notice. Without looking back the man spoke again, “You should clean yourself up.”

Evonne stared in confused wonder as the man limped to the door only to watch it open well before he reached the handle. From within the house whispers reached her ears, sinking into her skin, and resting in her bones. This place had potency to it the likes she had never felt before and it beckoned to Evonne. The open doorway gaped like a black pit in defiance of the sun that slowly set over her shoulder.

Taking a step towards the house, the front gate of the property closed with a clang causing Evonne to flinch. Murmuring under her breath as she slowly moved up the steps of the porch, “Oh goddess of the earth, and moon. Protect me as enter the unknown. The law of three is my guide, and harm to none. So mote it be.”

Closing her eyes, Evonne repeated the hasty prayer over three more times. She could feel the darkness cling to her like a second skin, neither cold nor warm but almost tangible. The man’s voice interrupted her chanting, “What are you going on about?”

Snapping her eyes open Evonne found herself in a poorly lit foyer, the overhead light flickered in need of changing. Stepping along the hard wood floor Evonne noted the décor was obviously from a previous era, perhaps the seventies. “I don’t even know your name…sir.” She inquired as the nervousness returned.

The man stopped moving down the hall, turning to look upon Evonne, shadows nearly hiding his face. “I did not offer it. I asked you a question.”

Setting her jaw Evonne stood tall and rigid to counter the doubt that clawed at her. “If you must know I am a pagan. My religion is Wicca and witchcraft! I was reciting a spell for protection to keep negative energies at bay in this unknown situation. If you mean me harm karma will have its way with you.”

The man titled his head, his voice wrapped in mirth. “Just so I get this straight. You are an unwashed, ignorant, farmer that follows the tenets of a fertility cult founded in the nineteen fifties. In addition you also follow something that is not a religion but a skill. Then use a spell to keep negative byproducts of action away from you when you willing walked into the potential situation of that happening. Finally you conclude that if I was to harm you, an eastern concept of which not many westerners understand anything about will arrive and avenge you. I shudder to think about who taught you that. How could such a person exist?”

To Know, First Shadow

‘Here she comes again. Are you going to do anything?’

William considers the cup of tea in front of him. The smoked salmon sandwich in his elderly hand smelled enticing. Glancing out the window of the second story of his home William angles his chair to get a better view. Placing the sandwich down the onyx plate he smooths out his salt and pepper goatee. “And what should I be doing, Felix?” His voice glides like well aged brandy addressing his familiar.

Felix leaps from the windowsill before rounding the chair to claw its way up the back of the chair much to William’s annoyance, while canting in his head. ‘Oh, I don’t know…make sure they don’t kill her? They do this five days a week, one day they are going to go too far.’

Giving a side long appraising look to his familiar, William shakes his head. “Getting involved is not something worth while to me. Besides, they don’t always get her. She has gotten much faster and by the looks of it she has a good lead on them today.” William finished his assessment with a sip of lukewarm tea.

Lowering his gaze William took in his perfect lawn, its twin bubbling fountains, welling into a pool. The sunlight of the late afternoon catches on the ever rippling pond. From the pool the overlapping water ran along stone black stone channels to constantly feed his prized roses that grew against the fence of the front of his property. Just seeing the roses always lightened his heart.

Up the street a teenage girl dressed in head to toe black raced down the sidewalk, working her legs in a sprint from her pursuers. Combat boots stamping in desperate rhythm, black backpack bobbing in time with her efforts to stay ahead of the pack that gained on her. Those that pursued the girl appeared to be of the same age, three girls two boys. Dressing in similar colors of blue and white they were definitely in some sort of club or group.

“One of them must be sick, there is only five today. There are usually six.” William muses aloud taking a pinch of the smoked salmon and offering it to Felix.

Felix single eye gaze considers the offer before taking the salmon, his feline features contently chewing though his tail trashes in agitation. ‘Those white lighters are worse than dogs. No respect for anything that is not just like them.’

William chuckles, “And you would know this how?”

‘You have me spy on them enough to know.’

“Touché.”

The elderly man watches as the runner drops her backpack to lighten her flight, racing past the front gate of his yard. Objects spill everywhere from the open flap scattering along the ground. The sixth pursuer makes his presence known having hid between to parked cars on the street. Bowling into the runner with a shove that sent the girl of balance and crashing to the ground. Clucking his tongue, William sighed. “Looks like the hounds caught the fox today.”

William watched as the five surrounded the girl very much like a wolf pack and hauled the teen to her feet. The last member of the group that William deduced to be the leader casually walked along the fence line. That slow smooth saunter of a bully in complete control. William dropped his tea cup as the leader reached through the bars of the fence and plucked a single red rose from the perfect garden. The boy inhaled upon it before tucking the perfect blood red rose to hang out of his breast pocket.

Anger welled up within William his eyes blazed with power yearning to be released. Old hands iron grip the arm rests of his chair with the ferocity he had not felt in years. Forcing himself to remain in the chair William watched as the group searched rifled through the accosted girl’s belongings, making sure a few ended up over the fence and in the front yard.

William never took his eyes off the leader, marking every feature. From the leader’s perfect blond hair in a long braid to his medium build, green eyes, to the slight limp that marked him as slower than the rest. How the leader commanded his underlings, how much sway he had over them. All of it carved into memory for later use.

Finally the group tired of tormenting the girl in black and left her slumped against the fence sobbing with her knees against her chest. With an entitled casual jaunt the group went on their way, tossing promises or threats over their shoulders to the fallen teen.

Felix shifted on the back of William’s chair near his shoulder, ‘Master?’ the familiar canted to his owner.

William felt the ice coursing through his veins. Looking towards the spot where the rose was plucked back to the group retreating into the distance. Pushing off the chair to his feet, William gripped his ivory cane. Whispering with cold malice to the window as the group fell from sight. “Invitation accepted.”

NecroStatic 4

I really don’t need to eat. Still I enjoyed the sensation of food, and it helps keep up appearances. Most Reapers view it as a distasteful attachment to what they once were. Guess I was always a rogue and a rebel. A burger, some fries and a good dose of ectoplasm would do the trick. Descending the steps to the Cellar I let my hand rest upon the flaking paint of the hardwood door. I lost count of how many times I had come to this place. The Cellar was a place mainly for new Reapers to get adjusted to their roles and slowly wean themselves off all those mortal habits. Like eating, drinking, smoking, and all those pesky emotions that had no place in the job. I enjoyed the place because it actually did the opposite of its proposed purpose.

Pushing the door open I inhaled taking in the stench of greasy air, and charcoaled meat. The filthy tiled walls and red neon over cast gave the place the perfect grimy feel. Tan vinyl booths with plywood table tops line the wall. The place was always busy; the food was cheap but good, making it a hit with the locals.

I wasn’t the only Reaper here. Tucked in the far corner booth a very petite young woman deeply involved with whatever she was reading. Bundled up in a black and pink Hello Kitty hoodie, she glances up feeling my presence, eyes combing the room and then locking onto me. Oddly, she did not look annoyed or disgusted to see me considering my status. Instead she put the book down and smiled in my direction.

Making my way through the diner towards her table I knew her name and that she was a transfer from the Midwest. She called herself Thaco, but I had yet to actually speak to her. Not that other Reapers looked forward to talking to me anyways…

What I heard about Thaco was strange. She did not kill another Reaper to take its place. She had invoked an ancient bylaw that only a few humans knew about. She challenged the Reaper that came to harvest her soul to a contest and she defeated that Reaper. When you challenge and defeat a Reaper they have to grant a request. Instead of being returned to her life, she opted to become a Reaper.

Nodding my head as I sit down at the booth, “You are Thaco, right?”

All smiles still Thaco bobs her head, pushing the book she had been reading to the side. It looked to be some sort of fantasy game manual. “That’s me. To hit armor class zero.”

Plowing through my confused look, Thaco babbled on. “It is what my name means. You are the second chancer, Dante Maxwell. Looks like you have seen some action. You went toe to toe with a Stein, and without a scythe, that is pretty impressive.”

News obviously travels fast. Suddenly I felt very aware of the glass still lodged in my body, and the two broken ribs grating against my spine. If was still alive I would have been in a wheelchair and in an incredible amount of pain. “It had to be done.”

Thaco waves the waitress over, “I’ll have another milkshake, chocolate this time. My friend here will have a number thirteen on that star paper.” Looking me over Thaco added, “Better double rap it with the star paper.”

The waitress snapped her gum and trundled off. Thaco smiles again, brows arched, “I know I just got here, but I have to say this city is a hive of spectral activity. Lots of White Lighters too.”

Opening my mouth to answer I could feel something under the table wrap itself around my ankle like a cord and begin to tighten. Looking down I caught a glimpse something oily writhing under the table. “What is that, Thaco?”

Thaco dips her head under the table, “Oh that?” Thaco flicks a lighter to light, the grip on my ankle releases, whatever it was slithered away from the light. “I found it in one of the antique shops downtown.”

Rummaging in her bag Thaco produced a crystal cylinder that fit in her palm perfectly. Even in the poor light I could make out the runic etchings and a crack that ran the length of the object. Rubbing my jaw, “It is a containment unit, loaded. Who’s in it?”

Thaco shrugged, “I don’t know, but she speaks Japanese. Quite pissed off.”

“How do you know that?”

“I watch a lot of Anime.”

“What?”

Shaking her head, “It is a type of cartoon. That is not important. I found this on the shelf in a basement of the antique store. Weird that a Reaper device was left for a mortal to simply buy it, no? It already has an occupant too.”

The object in her palm held a bead of black within it and frantically rolled from side to side to avoid the light. Looking closer I could see the crack was not a natural flaw in the crystal. “We have to get rid of it, properly.” My shadow overcast the crystal as I studied it, wisps of black hair erupted from the thin crack, shrinking back into the cylinder as I pull my head back.

Thaco keeps the crystal tube on the table, “I know the drill, but I am basically camped out here until the sun comes up. The unit is faulty and last thing this city needs is a pissed off Asian ghost terrorizing it.”

Without warning a plastic tray is tossed down in front of me. Glancing up as the waitress sets down the milkshake in front of Thaco. The wrapped burger in front of me smelled great. Unwrapping the paper, I folded it, lifting the bun I lay the paper down in the burger. Thaco punches a straw through the top of her milkshake and proceeds to blow into the softened ice-cream. I watch the paper dissolve into a nearly clear gel. The Cellar was one of two places you could get objects made of ectoplasm. Ghost crafting was frowned upon, but imbibing ectoplasm is how Reapers healed from injuries. Feeling the glass begin to push its way out my flesh, I devoured the burger. My broken ribs knitted back together. Shaking my sleeve, thin shards of glass clattered to the floor.

“Well I have nothing better to do, want some company, Thaco?”

Thaco pauses in her bubble making upon the milkshake, “Sure. Do you game, bro?”

“What?”

Sighing, Thaco gives me her best Samuel L Jackson impression. “Game, mother fucker. Do you game?”

“Like card games? I used to.” Unsure of how to take her change of attitude as her smile grew dark.

“Bro, let me take you to a whole new world.” With that the books poured forth and lots of strangely shaped dice.

Rabid Concern

I’ve wrestled with this for a pair of weeks. I was approached and asked to look into a sex offender that was supposedly working at the local spiritual temple of Reno Magick. Looking into the matter, Reno Magick does indeed have a Sex Offender working there as a priest. His name is Jeremy Carroll. Carroll is a registered Tier 2 Sex Offender, convicted of Sexual Exploitation of a Child. He has been doing priestly duties there since Dec, 2014 according to one of the shop owner, Misty Reiknigts.

http://www.nvsexoffenders.gov/search.aspx…

I took it upon myself to look a little deeper. I found an article on his arrest and conviction. Since the conviction title can be confusing to some and too cut and dry to others like myself. Here is the article.

http://www.wibw.com/…/Fort_Riley_Soldier_Sentenced_In_Child…

The owners of Reno Magick make the claim that anyone that comes in contact with Jeremy Carroll is informed of his status. His court transcripts are apparently available for viewing upon request. That is a good step towards transparency…except I had the opportunity to speak to a few people that frequent the established temple. No one knew about Jeremy Carroll’s status as a Sex Offender. They were in a word ‘shocked’.

How could I possibly know more about this than some of their attendees? I have no idea, but it spills into the realm of Gross Negligence on the part of Reno Magick. It also appears that only a select few people even know about the situation. That changes now.

It has been a number of months since Jeremy Carroll began his priestly duties at the temple linked to Reno Magick. The owners of Reno Magick make claim that they held a public hearing for transparency on the matter of Jeremy Carroll. This is true, however. The event was posted one day before it was to take place, not a lot of time to get the word out. They never named the priest in question or what ‘Transparency’ they were to discuss about the priest. Jeremy Carroll.

What happens if he goes to a local even such a Pagan Pride Day? Or a private event at a pagan’s house that is unaware of his status? Some pagans I know of would not take too kindly to finding this out after the offender has been in the house.

It is my hope to raise awareness on the matter at heart, but I am angry as well. It was put to me that ‘it was just a dirty picture and everyone looks at those, right?’ That picture…WAS OF SOMEONE’S CHILD. I am a father and I have every right to know about the dealings this man has with the community, and so do you.