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January 2019 #585

H:
Darlin’. Good morning. Coffee?

Me: Please. …Thank you.

H:
The kits are fed and no longer looking to riot.

Me: What will you do today?

H:
(lighting a cigarette from his case) I’m not certain. I must
confess the snow and cold are conspiring to rob me of action.

Me: Too cold to do anything except stay wrapped up?

H:
Indeed. And you darlin’?

Me: Work on tarot cards. I wasn’t productive yesterday at all. I
shall try to do better today.

H:
You did not fall to despair either – sometimes that is a
task in itself.

Me: I don’t know who to get to proof read Arizona Tarot now I’ve finished re-editing the first book.

H:
Your father?

Me: He might.

H:
I would read it, but you already have my opinion

Me: Yes. Although you haven’t read about what happened in St
Jude’s.

H:
You wrote that? Jesus, darlin’. Will it be censored?

Me: No. People are allowed to write a great many things in books
these days.

H:
I don’t doubt your skill, but that’s a hard thing to ask
your audience to stomach.

Me: It’s meant to be. It’s meant to be horrific because such
abuses are.

H:
Is it not better spoken around?

Me: No. These days rape is ‘spoken around’ enough. Better to
state plainly that it happened to a character.

H:
Perhaps you’re right. … Darlin’? (coughing) What would you like for your birthday?

Me: Things I can’t have. There’s an author who wrote ‘the price
of getting what you want is getting what once you wanted’. Which is clever, but
not universally true.

H:
What do you want?

Me: My father to be well again. My debts to be paid. To sell my
jewellery. To get more tattoos. To spend time with you in the Stormlands. To be
underweight again so I don’t dislike my reflection. I wouldn’t regret the gift
of any of those.

H:
Alas I believe those are beyond my power to grant.

Me: Well, I’ll always want your company, coffee, bourbon, and
piano recitals.

H:
Nothing else?

Me: I’m a witch; you can always bribe me with strange oddments,
books, weaponry, and silver jewellery.

H:
(coughing) Hm, I shall see what may be acquired.

Me: Anyway, birthdays are problematic.

H:
How so?

Me: …Sometimes I’m so very tired of being me.

H:
(coughing) Who would you rather be?

Me: Cait. Or Bedlam.

H:
Bedlam may be the wiser choice. But who’s to say you’re not?

Me: I think I’d notice if I was the world’s oldest lunatic
asylum and a walking avatar of madness.

H:
Perhaps you hid it from yourself?

Me: Tarot cards say… WTF?
No. Well. Maybe. What do you mean
‘maybe’?!

H: (wry) I’m glad that’s settled.

Me: Wretch. Do you know how to dream-walk?

H:
No, I confess I do not. It sounds like something a tribe’s
holy man would do.

Me: Mm. Ghosts and spirits can supposedly do it, witches and
shamans too.

H:
Can you do so?

Me: Unfortunately not.

Source: Tales of Necromancy

by cnkguy
January 2019 #585

Posted in Tales of Necromancy and tagged by with no comments yet.

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