SECTION III - STORY TIME
The Interrogation, Abby - Mystickally
A Melding of Hearts - Yvette Nickerson
Michael and Beth Chronicles -Selene SilverWind
Mewsings from The Alley - Mystickally
Harm None, By M.R. Sellars - Reviewed by Brenna Fey D’Amaurot
Samantha, PoliceCat of the CCC - Astartes
Klatha SpellCaster - Review by WindSeeker
Let Me Fly Free - Crystal Willow
My Friend The Tree, Part 3 - " T "
The Battle between Apollo and Dionysus - Gawaine C. Ross
The Stang - Dorch Gealach
Light - Verada
Meagan's Beltaine - Kathryn Dyer
Abby
The Interrogation
By Mystickally
A spectacular sight greeted Abby and Shaene as they pulled up to the gates at the
University on their way to the Performing Arts Center. Along the way, they saw
several groups of Pagans parading through the campus singing and chanting. Nobody let
the tense situation interfere with his or her Beltaine celebration. They had even
erected a May Pole in the center of the campus. Despite the loud, and often rude,
protestations of the resident Priest, people remained festive.
Cailey and Mike ran towards Abby and Shaene as they got out of their car. Cailey gave
Abby a big hug, then placed flowers and sprinkled some dried and crushed herbs in her
hair. After explaining that the Blessing was meant to bring forth great fortune,
Cailey led them towards the large Performance Arts Center. The building was the
school’s proudest asset; built with fantastic concerts in mind, the concert hall had
engulfed a variety of sounds, ranging from the music of the New York Philharmonic to
that of Tori Amos.
Abby caught her breath when she entered. She had expected the building to be half
empty, as it usually was. Instead, she found more people than the room could seat.
She got on her tippy-toes and searched for Kat and Cal. Finally she spotted the couple
at the foot of the stage, dressed as “flower children.” The group made their way
towards them and greeted each with a hug. Kat handed each friend a name-tag,
explaining that every person who was to speak that day would need the identification
tag.
“If we all show that we have no inhibitions, we’ll come out looking better.” Kat’s
statement had sounded more like a plea to Abby, rather than a matter-of-fact
comment.
Abby added, “They are going to pull at our vulnerable points. No matter what, we have
to try to keep our cool. Defend yourself, back up your statements, and don’t act
overly defensive. It’ll just make us seem like we have something to hide.”
It turned out that nobody was quite sure of what was going to happen. They knew only
that it would be an interrogation, set up like a courtroom. Whether or not actual
lawyers and a judge would be present had remained a mystery, but the majority believed
the interrogators would include the higher-ups within the school’s administration.
The interrogations began in earnest. Several people were questioned before Shaene was
called to testify.
Shaene explained, “I have been following a Pagan path for about 2 years now. I was
raised a Christian and am well versed on the Bible and most Christian teachings. After
many arguments with various religious officials, I came to the conclusion that their
systems of belief were not for me.”
The Interrogator asked point-blank, “Do you engage in activities known as ‘Role-
Playing games’?”
This abrupt and seemingly out-of-the-blue question by the Interrogator caught Shaene
off guard. With a quick confused glance at his friends, Shaene answered that he
did.
“At what age did you begin role playing, and what kind of games do you play?”
Shaene began, “I picked up my first RPG around the age of 8. I’m very eclectic on
which type of games I play. I play all kinds of genres.”
The Interrogator snorted. “Can you describe the main objective of at least one of the
supposed ‘genres’?”
Shaene replied, “The main objective of RPG’s is like any other form of recreation: to
have FUN in each session.”
“What exactly do you do during these role playing sessions, Mr. Andicott?”
With an annoyed expression on his face, Shaene responded, “We create elaborate
stories. One person that we call a “Storyteller” devises plots, twists, and conflicts
that the other players have to solve through co-operation or dissention, depending on
the mood of the story.”
In a monotonic, aggravated tone, the Interrogator asked, “Do hexes, magic spells,
violent acts or sexual intercourse ever come into play?”
“Again, it all depends on the mood, the plot, or the focus of the story. If you are
trying to imply that these ‘acts’ are engaged in physically, you are sadly mistaken.
Only the most juvenile and disturbed mind would even conceive of it. If you take the
time to read the disclaimer, which IS found in every book, you would see that in no
way do these game designers expect anybody to take their games into real life.”
“Then you do admit,” the Interrogator probed, “that Witchcraft is used in some of
these acts of violence and sex?”
Shaene interjected in the middle of the Interrogator’s question, “If you are asking if
I have personally experienced or seen this, then NO. Absolutely not.”
“Have you ever committed a crime or were involved in a violent act and/or murder
during one of these role-playing sessions, physical or within the game itself, Mr.
Andicott?”
“No and no.”
“Do you have any knowledge of others committing a crime or being involved in a violent
act and/or murder during one of their role-playing sessions?”
Shaene paused. The Interrogator prodded, “Answer the question please, Mr.
Andicott.”
With a bit of reluctance, Shaene responded, “Yes, but these people were mentally
disturbed to begin with.”
The Interrogator said, “Is that your medical opinion? Do you have a license to
practice Psychiatry?”
“Of the cases that I know –“
“Yes or no, Mr. Andicott?”
“No, but –“
“Then isn’t it a fact that there have been numerous incidences where the said acts
were played out and have led to arrests and even death?”
An outraged Abby rose to her feet and yelled out her objections. The room was suddenly
filled with gasps while their group looked up towards Abby in confusion.
The Facilitator, the person presiding over the case like a courtroom judge, asked,
“Abby, are you an attorney?”
Abby answered, “No Ma’am.”
“Are you a law student?”
Abby again responded no. The Interrogator objected to Abby’s objection.
Abby interrupted, “I was a pre-law student for 2 years before switching majors to
veterinary technology. I am well versed on the judicial system and am perfectly
capable in speaking on behalf of the defense. And for the record, I was not aware that
this was going to be a courtroom setting. My friends and I were told this would only
be a hearing of each party’s side.”
All of her friends stared at Abby with a shocked look on their face and their mouths
agape.
Abby continued. “Mr. Andicott’s testimony is on behalf of the defendant, and has
absolutely no connection with cases outside of this one. What the Interrogator is
implying is both unfair and irrelevant.”
The Interrogator responded, “The question is withdrawn. Mr. Andicott, do you ever take
into consideration the information printed in these role-playing books when
considering your Pagan rituals or spells, or even in dealing with situations in
everyday life?”
Shaene answered, “Of course. These books spark the imagination and creativity. As a
human being, a person is supposed to use reason, intelligence, creativity and common
sense to make minute-to-minute decisions. Playing a RPG has nothing to do with the
fundamental common sense processes that every human being us supposed to learn.”
Again, the Interrogator interrupted, “Ah-ha! ‘Supposed’ to, but not necessarily does a
person have this sense, do they?”
Shaene replied, “Of course not, but—“
The Interrogator ended with “Thank you. NO further questions.”
A defeated Shaene returned to his seat, unsure of whether his testimony hurt or helped
the case.
Later that day, the Facilitator called for a recess, but asked Abby to speak to her
before leaving for the break. She asked Abby if she was willing to act as the
“Attorney” for the Pagans. Abby tried to explain that she only did what she did
because she had felt that Shaene needed some defending, but that she had not intended
on being the acting attorney. The Facilitator made it quite clear that the Pagans
would need a spokesperson, and that Abby should be that person. After some protesting
the Facilitator, while not actually forcing her to take on the role, warned Abby that
she may not have a choice in the matter in the near future.
After the break, Abby was called to take the stand.
“I have only been a practicing Witch for a few months. I get a lot of studying done
through an assortment of books and websites, and I am fortunate to have the
opportunity to speak with fellow Pagans in person. I’ve never performed a spell but I
have witnessed a few rituals, and not once have I found myself in the middle of the
sacrificing of another life – human or animal – and I have not been a witness to the
worshipping of Satan.”
This time, the Interrogator cut right to the chase and asked, “Have you ever committed
a crime, Ms. Meyers?”
“No, I have not.”
“Have you ever been accused of a crime, Ms. Meyers?”
Abby opened her mouth to answer no, but she suddenly stopped herself and just stared
at the Interrogator.
“I don’t see the relevance of this question…”
“Just answer the question Ms. Meyers.”
Abby gave Cal a nervous glance before she answered, “I was detained for questioning
in a hit-and-run.”
“Were you accused, and then charged, of the crime?
“I was suspected of it, yes. My car matched the description given by a witness of the
car involved, but no I wasn’t charged with anything. In fact, I was cleared of all
charges.”
The Interrogator asked, “Were you cleared of any involvement?”
Confused with the line of questioning, Abby reluctantly answered, “There was
insufficient evidence. And it was revealed later who the actual person was that did
it.”
“Can you please name that person, Ms. Meyers.”
“I really don’t see how this factors into the case.”
The facilitator interrupted and agreed that the questioning seemed irrelevant, but
the Interrogator insisted that the questioning was leading up to how it was relevant
to the case.
Abby paused for a moment, and with a loud sigh said, “His name was Greg
Stokton.”
A collective gasp echoed through the room. The Interrogator asked, “Is he Pagan?”
“How should I know?!” Abby answered harshly.
A smirk suddenly appeared on the Interrogator’s face. Moving aside and pointing to a
man sitting directly behind him, he asked, “Is this the gentleman you are referring
to?”
Abby’s eyes widened while she became panic-stricken.
The Interrogator did not wait for a response from Abby. Instead, he stated, “For the
record, Madame Facilitator, this man IS Gregory Stokton, also the Graduate Student,
the Defendant in this particular case. He IS a Pagan. He IS a Witch. Abigail Meyers
testified today that this same man had committed a crime, and his cowardly reaction
was to run from the crime scene, AND let Ms. Meyers take the fall for his actions. A
life was lost in that incident, yet he still chose to walk away from it and let Abby
stand accused.”
He turned towards Abby again and asked, “Ms. Meyers, this man was your friend, but he
let the police believe that YOU killed that other young man, didn’t he?”
The Facilitator finally ended the Interrogator’s questioning and allowed Abby to step
down. Still shocked, Abby walked off the stand with a look on her face as if she were
about to vomit and ran out of the room.
A Melding of Hearts
By Yvette Nickerson
It was a warm spring day on the eastern coast of the United States. The sands of
North Carolina lay all around me and I could feel the heat emanating from beneath my
lounge chair. The sun shone down warm, but not hot and there was a cool breeze
wafting from the ocean bringing with it the smell of salt and sea. I lounged there in
my own personal heaven, just enjoying my surroundings, while next to me a friend sat
scouring the small spatters of people for available men. I knew she’d find one soon
and with her figure and open attitude she would get whatever she wanted. She was
tall, hourglass shaped, not too thin, her long brown hair fell in waves over her
shoulders and touched the top of her marble blue bikini. She was very attractive, even
in my eyes, and she never had problems catching men. I wouldn't’t have had a hard
time myself, being a well-shaped blue-eyed blonde, but I wasn’t there for that. I
was already married to a man I loved with all my heart and soul.
We had been high school sweethearts, my husband and I, and married just after I
graduated from high school. We had our first child, a son, within months of the
wedding and soon after my husband joined the Marine Corps. We survived six long
months of bootcamp and training and then the unexpected six month deployment with
only little mishaps and felt we loved each other more for making it through together.
But on this summer day, while my son was at daycare and my husband at work, I took a
rare day for luxury and found myself in a situation that could change all our lives
forever.
I had been talking with my friend, we were jokingly comparing the men that passed by
us when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone walking along the sand nearby.
Something about this man halted my tongue and I just watched him. He wasn’t the type
of man that I usually found myself attracted to, my tastes favored the teddy bear type
build, short with dark hair and enough body to feel cuddly. This man was tall and
lean, not skinny but healthily thin. Long ash-blonde hair that reached just below
his shoulders and swung gently with his step. He was wearing just a pair of dark swim
trunks that showed his long healthy legs, his chest was very lightly haired with black
and he had a light tan all over.
I suddenly felt butterflies in my stomach. I imagined my hands running over that
tanned skin and I thought very clearly to myself, “I want him.” This had been a purely
lustful thought and I never would have done anything about it but just as that thought
passed in my mind he stopped. He hadn’t even glanced in our direction before but now
he turned towards us, as quick flash of confusion on his face as he glanced briefly at
my friend but just as quickly to clarity when his eyes found me and he smiled. I was
so startled I could feel my mouth drop open a little and my breath quickened.
The man walked with a purposeful stride in my direction. I felt as if we were linked
by some invisible thread that was pulling him to me. When he reached me he squatted
beside my lounge chair to meet my gaze head on. Without preamble he said very softly,
“You want me?”
I was speechless. How could he know my thought? But in that same instant I didn’t
doubt that he’d heard me. Somehow I knew that it had been only that one thought he
had heard and he couldn’t hear me anymore. It was that thread again.
I knew I had to tell him I was married but I wanted him more than anything else I’d
ever known. Before I could form the words I had to say he leaned over and touched
his lips to mine in the most tender kiss I had ever felt. In that instant of contact
I saw in my mind a promise of the purest most fulfilling love I would ever know and
it came from the man who was kissing me. The man that I now felt so in tune with that
I felt our hearts beat in the same rhythm.
When he pulled away and stood up he held my hands in his and pulled me up with him.
Without a backward glance at my friend who called my name I went with this man,
trusting him completely. We walked down the beach away from the people and rounded a
curve of the shoreline to find a small cove lined with stones. It was an enchanting
place. Entirely cut off from the rest of the world though it was only around a bend.
The sounds of people died out to be replaced by bird song and the constant music of
wind in the trees that grew just above the sandy rocks.
Silently we walked towards an outcropping of rock that seemed to have been carved in a
half circle. It was nine feet in diameter, perfect, I thought, for a solitary ritual.
The man, I still did not know his name nor he mine, let go my hand and moved into the
embrace of the rocks. From a small hole in the stone he withdrew a bundle which he
lay in the center of the stones, what would be the center of the completed circle.
Glancing up at me to gauge my reaction he unwrapped the bundle and I saw the tools
that I myself kept at home. Two white candles, a small libation dish, salt, a small
bottle of wine, anointing oil, incense bundles, two small deity figurines, an
athame,
a red cord, extra candles, and matches. It was the small supply kit of a Solitary
Wiccan.
He looked up at me questioningly as I surveyed this display and I knelt beside him. I
smiled, no fear or surprise in my voice as I said softly, “Merry Met, my love.” He
closed his eyes and I heard his breath catch at my words. I do not know if it was the
greeting that caused it or the endearment that had come from my lips without
thinking. He took my hands in his and put them to the tools spread out before us.
I picked up the cord and the athame and, at his nod, I used them to create the closing
half of the Circle that the rocks had begun.
As I did this he began to set up the altar, but he did not set it up at the circle
center as most might. He moved to the back of the half moon of rock and set up right
against the stone, leaving a large space in the circle. I blushed as I realized the
reason for this. I gave him back the athame and took the candles, all but the two
white ones for the altar, and pushed them into the sand all around the circle and
next to the rock. Some I was able to place on ledges of the rock itself, higher up
than the ground to give more light as the sun had begun to set.
As the preparations were completed I moved next to this man I knew so well and yet
didn’t know at all and whispered to him, “I am Marien.” I gave my craft name as it
was the link he could use to call on me whenever he needed me and gave him a hold on
me that no one else had. Not even my husband knew my craft name.
He touched my hair and I could see the still amazement in his eyes as he whispered,
“My Star of the Sea, whom I found on the shore of that sea.” I was surprised he knew
the meaning of my name, I’d only just discovered it myself a few days ago. He
continued to stroke my hair and went on in a soft voice, “I am Durwin.” I knew this
name to be his craft name, it meant “Beloved Friend.”
We smiled into each other’s eyes and he bent to kiss me again, quickly, as if to make
sure I was really there with him. Then we both moved to the center of the circle and
sat beside each other. We didn't speak but we each instinctively knew how the other
typically cast a circle. He reached for my right hand with his left and then
hesitated. I looked down at our hands, confused for a moment and wondering why he’d
stopped. Then I realized he was worried about my being able to send out energy if my
releasing hand was held in his accepting hand. I grinned at his concern as I took his
hand in mine and said softly, "I’m left-handed.” He grinned back and squeezed my
hand gently, understanding that my channels were switched because of this.
We sat like that for a few moments concentrating on raising the energy needed to
consecrate the circle. When we felt enough had been gathered we simultaneously
raised our free hands in front of us, touching them together just barely to pool the
energy into one ball. I felt the power flowing from me into the growing ball of light
before me, amazed at the speed with which it grew and knowing that it was due to his
strength as well as my own. I’d never raised energy like this with anyone, I was a
solitary and did all my rituals alone. Even my husband never joined me, he didn’t
believe as I did.
I felt the globe of energy expand as Durwin took control of it and caused it to fill
the circle I had marked around us. When it reached the full size he stopped, held it
there a moment, then released the energy into the circle. I sighed as the power
filled me and passed all around us, never leaving the boundary that Durwin had
shown.
Slowly we stood and moved to the altar. Kneeling before it I bowed my head at the
images of the Lord and Lady before me. I sent out a silent prayer to them for
guidance as I was growing increasingly doubtful of my love for my husband in the face
of the bonding that was about to occur. I knew that Durwin and I could be happy
together, we could live in blissful harmony with our lives and our love for each other.
We would build a coven together, he the priest and I his priestess, and we would watch
our coven grow with love and knowledge in the Craft which we shared.
All this I knew and welcomed as we knelt there. He lit the incense and candles while
I sent out my prayer. He knew what I did and why. He understood my position and let
me find my own answer through the guidance of the gods. He called upon the gods to
bless our ritual joining, he asked the god to come into him and bless him and he asked
the goddess to come into me and bless me, that we would be as the God and Goddess to
each other.
He completed the ritual words and pulled me again to the center of the circle where
we knelt facing each other. He touched my cheek and I felt a shiver of delight run
through me. I looked into his eyes, sparkling in the glow of the candles that
flickered in the breeze. What I saw in those eyes made me catch my breath. He
looked on me with such adoration and love and desire as one might bestow upon the
figure of a goddess. And well he might, I though to myself, for I am the goddess to
him as he is the god to me.
This time it was I who moved in to kiss him, I needed to make sure that what I saw
was no dream, that what I felt was reality. As our lips touched I again felt images
flashing between us through that delicate thread that linked us.
In that instant of time I found the realization that I had been searching for this
man, this soul, for many lifetimes. We were destined to be one. We had spent many
lifetimes alone, for the separation of our bodies in those lives were too great for
the soul bond to unite us. And we had found each other in this life. We could
finally be fulfilled and our souls could join in the afterlife forever, never to be
lost to each other again.
But in that same instant I also realized that I truly loved my husband and could never
leave him, not even for what was being offered by the man beside me. Durwin felt the
reluctance in my kiss and pulled away. The amazement and wonder in his eyes, for the
discovery we had made in each other and for the loss of it, compelled me to smile.
He smiled back and shook his head slightly, dumbfounded that I could resist the magic
of finding my soulmate for the mundane love I felt for my husband.
I reached out and touched his cheek as his eyes met mine again, my thoughts passing
through to him even as they came from my lips, “But it’s not mundane, my love. He
and I are joined in this lifetime by love for each other, our son, and our contentment
with our life together. We don’t need more than that to be happy.” I stroked his
cheek, fingers lightly brushing his hair as it fell over his shoulder. “I am happy
as my life is now. Give me one more lifetime and I will be ready for what you offer
me.”
With a sigh and a smile he stood up, holding on to my hand with his as it slid from
his face. He pulled me to my feet and embraced me, I nearly melted with the warmth
of love and understanding I felt radiating from him. We separated almost reluctantly
and closed the circle, pouring out the wine and food onto the earth as an offering
and thanks to the gods for guiding us rightly. He bundled everything up and stowed
it in the cache in the rock wall.
I held out my hand to him and he took it. Glad of at least this one contact we walked
slowly together in silence back to where we had met only an hour ago. Though the sun
had set there were still people around and my friend was on her lounge chair chatting
with a handsome man who sat on a towel beside her. I stopped Durwin before we reached
her, I wanted a private good-bye.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek as he pulled me into another warm embrace. I clung to
him, letting him know how much I loved him and wanted him to know I always would.
He stood back from me, hands holding mine between us. “Marien, my love, there is no
way?”
I shook my head slowly and said firmly but with a hint of sadness, “No, I love him,
and our son, and could never hurt them so much as this would inevitably do.”
He ran a finger along my cheek and I was surprised to feel a tear glide down after.
“If anything ever happens, love.” He began, “If you ever need me for any
reason...”
“I'll call you.” I whispered, catching his hand against my cheek and leaning into
it. I closed my eyes but opened them again as I felt him begin to pull away.
He gave a little embarrased smile, “If I don’t go now....”
I nodded knowingly and let go his hand. He backed away slowly and saluted me as if I
were a high priestess. I raised my hand in blessing and he smiled and slowly walked
away.
I walked over to my lounge chair and sat down with a sigh and a small smile. “What
the heck was that all about?” the voice startled me. I had forgotten for a moment
that my friend had witnessed that tender farewell.
I shook my head slowly and told her the only truth I could, “He’s an old friend from
a long time ago.” Which was truth, but not in the way she would understand it.
I could tell she didn’t believe me and was dying to ask me a lot of questions but
something in my face must have stopped her for she shrugged and turned back to her
new man friend. I simply smiled and looked into the distance to see the figure of
my soul mate as he walked out of my life. He turned once, hand raised in farewell,
before he disappeared into the night. I knew I would never see him again. But I also
knew that someday, in another life, we would be one and our long wait would be
over.
Michael and Beth
Dinner Revelations
by Selene Silverwind
Slvrwind@aol.com
Kyra heard the front door open and close and popped her head out of the kitchen to see
who it was. Michael and Mark called hello as they moved into the living room. Kyra
told them to make themselves comfortable and went back to her cooking. They would
have offered to help, but they been there enough times to know that Kyra didn't want
help and wanted them to relax and be comfortable.
They settled on facing couches and Michael turned the conversation over to his new
favorite fascination. "So have you met Beth yet?"
Mark nodded. "Briefly the other day. She seems nice."
"She is. Pretty, too. And talented."
Mark smiled. "You seem to be developing a thing there."
Before Michael could respond, Kyra moved into the adjoining dining room to set the
dining room table and called out to Mark. "Mark, is Gary coming?"
Mark looked over to her. "Yeah, he'll be here in a few minutes."
The sound of the front door opening pulled their attention toward it as Anacati and
Adam entered, already deep in conversation. "The semester is going well then?"
Anacati asked.
"Very well. I have a few students this time who love to read the great works!" Adam
set his bag down by the door and hung up his coat as Kyra made her way out of the
dining room to greet him. He kissed his wife hello and motioned to Anacati. "Look
who I found on my way in."
Kyra returned her husband's greeting kiss and turned her attention to Anacati as Adam
continued over to say hi to Marisa, who lay quietly on the living room floor flipping
through the large nature book Michael had brought for her. Kyra glanced over at
Marisa and smiled as Adam crouched over her and nuzzled her back with his nose.
She rewarded him with a startled shriek and giggle. Kyra turned once again to
Anacati. "Did you solve the mystery ailment?" she said.
"Almost," Anacati said. "We're experimenting with a few of your herbs. I suspect
it's a combination of symptoms from several imbalances."
"Well keep me updated on the progress. I'm trying a few more blends. I'll give you
the latest before you go.
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Kyra moved to the door
and opened it with a flourish to greet Mark's mate Gary Donahoe and Beth, the guest of
honor. She ushered them in and closed the door behind them. "Hi Beth. I see you've
met Gary. Gary, you know better than to knock."
"Hi, Kyra. I did it for Beth's benefit," Gary said as he exchanged a hug with his
mate's landlady and waved to Mark. Gary pulled away and made his way over to the
couch to sit beside Mark. Mark reached over and took Gary's hand in his.
"Do you know everyone?" Kyra asked Beth.
"No, there are a couple unfamiliar faces."
"That man you see in the over there is my husband, Adam, and the lump on the floor is
my daughter, Marisa. I believe you've met everyone else."
"Hi, everyone," Beth said as Michael waved her over to sit beside him. She walked to
him and plunked down across from Gary and Mark, who were deep in conversation. She
hoped she would be able to remember all their names during dinner, but right now all
she could think about was how close Michael was sitting.
Michael called her out of her thoughts by asking, "Any furniture yet?"
Beth laughed. "No, but I better get some soon. My floor is covered in books!"
Mark and Gary caught that and burst out laughing. Soon everyone became involved in a
heated debate over who had more books and how many they each had lying on their
floors. Everyone could think of at least one and most had at least three books
scattered anywhere except on the bookcases where they belonged. It was determined
that without seeing Beth's collection, Kyra had the most books, both on and off the
shelves.
"I didn't think anyone could have more books than me," Beth laughed.
"Oh, trust me. I've lived here a long time. I'll take you into my 'library' later,"
Kyra said.
Adam came back from the kitchen and sat in the easy chair next to Gary. "How's the
case going?" he asked.
Gary sighed audibly. Mark squeezed his hand in support. They had stayed up late many
a night discussing Gary's work. "Oh, it's tough. We're filing an injunction right
now, but this is a pretty sneaky group, so they may try to get around it."
Anacati turned from where she was reading with Marisa. "I hope you can stop
them."
Adam concurred with her. "Me too, I'd hate to see another beach paved over in favor
of a parking lot. I mean, really, where is the sense in making more parking if you're
going to get rid of the beach!"
"Is that the beach rededication project I've been hearing about?" Beth said.
"Yeah, Gary is lawyer for the environmental group trying to stop the beach paving.
They're not rededicating anything, unless you call turning sand into concrete
rededicating it!" Mark said.
Nods of agreement followed, but the kitchen timer went off before they could get
deeper into the conversation. Kyra stood. "That's dinner. Shall we adjourn to the
dining room?"
The almost familial group and began moving toward the dining room. Andrew followed
Kyra into the kitchen while everyone else gathered around the dining room table set
for eight and shuffled chairs. Gary and Mark sat down next to each other and Anacati
joined them on that side of the table. Beth sat down opposite Mark and Michael slid
in next to her. Marisa waited until Michael sat down and then hopped into the seat
next to him with a shy glance in his direction. He missed it due to his distraction
caused by Beth's proximity. Andrew came out of the kitchen with a bowl of salad and
set it on the table before sitting at the end of the table. Kyra followed Andrew out
of the kitchen with the lasagna and set it down in front of her at the head of the
table. She handed Marisa the spatula. "Marisa, why don't you start?"
As Marisa dove into the piping hot dish, Kyra called the attention of the rest of the
group. "Have any of you talked to Angela recently?" The rest of the tenants nodded
their heads no as they began passing dishes around the table. "Well she and James are
saving up to buy a house. She finally asked for my 'help' in making sure she gets
it."
"That's great. Anything we can do?" Anacati asked.
"We'll see. I have a few tricks up my sleeve first. If those fail, then I'll call
in some back-up."
Everyone except Beth nodded and smiled, well aware of the extent of Kyra's
abilities.
Baffled by the casual references and innuendoes, Beth said, "I don't mean to be nosy,
but what kind of tricks?"
Kyra was a little surprised by the question. "I guess you haven't noticed yet. Look
around the room and see if anything pops out at you."
Beth began inspecting the living and dining rooms in earnest. It was decorated with
an assortment of fresh flower arrangements and dried seasonal wreaths, candles, and
God and Goddess figurines. A collection of cauldrons of all shapes and sizes was
displayed inside the china curio. Pentacles were hidden in several of the
decorations. Beth's surveying eye stopped at a garden mask of a grinning man
wreathed in ivy. "Is that the Green Man?" she asked.
Kyra nodded.
"Are you all?"
"Yes, that's why I thought you'd fit in so well here," Kyra said.
Beth giggled and smiled wide. "I guess you're right, but then why wouldn't Angela
have wanted your help before?"
"Oh, she's not. We've been friends for decades, but we've always agreed to disagree
in this area."
"Is she agreeing now?"
"I think she realized that a little help from me won't hurt. The Christian path is
the right choice for her though."
The meal continued with the group breaking off into several smaller conversations.
Kyra and Anacati resumed an ongoing discussion about her latest attempts at herbal
remedies, with Marisa listening intently. Andrew, Mark, and Gary were soon engaged in
a debate over the best translation of Homer.
Beth and Michael quickly became engrossed in one another. They discussed everything
they could think of, from what she liked to do, to what kind of trees he liked best.
Their conversation continued through dessert, without either of them noticing the
passage of time.
After dessert, Kyra announced that it was Marisa's bedtime and that got Beth and
Michael's attention. Beth wasn't sure what to do when the tenants exchanged hugs all
around, but soon joined in the spirit and was surprised by how comfortable she felt
hugging everyone there. When it came time to hug Michael, Beth shifted on her feet
a couple times, then hugged him loosely, hoping he wouldn't notice how hard her heart
was pounding. Wishes for a good night were called out and Kyra showed her guests out
before hustling her young daughter off to bed. Anacati took Gary and Mark up on their
offer of an after-dinner tea and the three disappeared into Mark's apartment, leaving
Michael and Beth alone in the courtyard. Their hands brushed against each other,
sending sparks up their arms, as they walked up the stairs. They nervously stopped
talking as they approached the landing. Michael walked her to her door. She pushed
her key into the lock and turned the knob, slowly swinging open the door. She
glanced in and then back at Michael. They just stared at each other for several
minutes, each debating what to say or do next. Finally Beth shifted one foot into
her doorway. Michael broke the silence. "I better let you get inside."
Beth glanced into her apartment again. "Yeah, I should, yeah." She started to move
into her apartment. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Well, we're neighbors, so I hope so!"
"Yeah, I guess that's right. Okay, night."
Michael turned toward his own door as Beth started to close hers. She stopped to
watch him for a moment and then quickly shut it when he started to turn back again.
She leaned against the inside of her door for a moment. Her lips tingled at the mere
thought of kissing Michael. She quickly ushered those thoughts from her mind, telling
herself she wasn't ready for another...anything.
Michael unlocked his door and slipped inside his apartment where he leaned against his
own door, kicking himself for not kissing Beth when he had the chance. Next time he
would, he promised himself, but he knew deep down that he would probably chicken out
again. Something told him that a kiss from her would be more than a simple kiss.
Beth pushed herself off the door and drifted through her apartment, thoughts of
Michael overtaking her will to think about something else. Finally she decided to get
out a canvas and distract herself with her art. As she set out her supplies and
poured the paint, she found herself mixing an array of reds and pinks. She sat down
at her easel and lifted the brush to the canvas where she painted a small, perfect
rose in one corner. As she continued to work, the rose expanded into a portrait of
the other morning when she and Michael had sat together in the garden. She hoped
they would share more days like that.
Michael moved away from his door and into the kitchen, grabbing a beer before
continuing into the living room to see what was on the tube. He flopped down and
clicked the remote, bringing the TV to life, but every woman he saw reminded him of
Beth and he turned it off. He picked up the book beside him and thumbed to the place
he had left off, determined to do something besides think about her. His eyes
skimmed across the page, but every woman described in the sci-fi novel looked just
like Beth in his mind's eye.
With a sigh, he tossed the book aside and went to the computer. He sat down at the
keys and brought up a blank page. As his fingers flew over the keyboard, he crafted a
poem about the first time he had met Beth, knowing someday he would have a chance to
give it to her. And that day would be soon. That much he was sure
of.
Mewsings from The Alley
By Mystickally (mystickally@yahoo.com)
…If you ever need any advice on your kitty (or any other animal for that matter!)
please don’t hesitate to email me. I will be more than happy to answer any and all
questions…
It’s mating season! This is the time of year that rescuers start to panic. More feral
and stray cats are making kittens, adding to the overpopulation of cats. This is the
time of year we dread! Kittens are wonderful babies, but there are too many of them
that turn into wild kitties, or don’t live too long, or spread disease, and most are
generally wonderful creatures, but are homeless. Either they are left to fend for
themselves on the street or they are captured by animal control and put to death
instantly. So what is better? Living on the street or being put out of your
misery?
How about we try to prevent it from even happening? So many people complain about the
noisy cats in the backyard, but so few of them actually try to prevent it from even
occurring! If only people would shell out the one time cost of spaying or neutering
a cat. I agree that getting an animal speutered is a rather expensive procedure, but
think of it’s results in the long run. No more unwanted babies! No more loud meowing
in your backyard…they do the meowing as a mating call! Nature happens. They want to
procreate! If you are one of those people that has a cat that is allowed outdoors,
then please do the responsible thing: get your animal fixed! You can avoid the cost
of treating your furry friend for an unexpected pregnancy, or worse yet, a disease!
I see no harm in having an outdoor cat in a suburban environment, but please take
precautions. I WANT you to put rescuers like me out of business!
There are four stages of estrus (signs of a female cat going into heat):
Proestrus – which lasts about 1-2 days.
-She may seem restless
-have an increased appetite
-act more affectionate (with you if you are the owner!)
-utter chirping, short, low mews
-may refuse mating during this stage, but this is how she attracts the males. I like
to think of this stage as her way of saying “OK, I want to mate. All you guys have
to line up and show me what you have to offer before I let you near me!” -THIS is the
early stage and a VERY good time to take her in to be spayed.
Estrus – last about 5-6 days -she will make more noise (and MUCH louder! This is the
annoying meowing you hear in your backyard!) -you will notice the cat acting a lot
more affectionate towards you.
Metestrus – lasts about 7-14 days -she will refuse to mate and will fight off any
male that attempts it -if mating took place in the previous stage and it did not
result in pregnancy, she will go through what’s called a pseudopregnancy (false
pregnancy where she will think and act as though she is with child); Otherwise, if
she is pregnant you can expect kittens in about 2 months. If no mating occurred then
she will begin the first stage of Proestrus all over again in about 14 days.
Anestrus – this is when the reproduction cycle rests. During mating season I
guarantee that this stage will not occur.
The cycle WILL continue unless you get your cat fixed! Please save yourself from the
aggravation (and the cat’s aggravation!) by having your pet neutered or spayed.
Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation
By M.R. Sellars
Reviewed by Brenna Fey D’Amaurot
It’s really nice to read a book where the main character is a witch but cannot fly,
cause objects to levitate, or give a person chickenpox simply by pointing a
finger.
Rowan Gant is the main character in Harm None, the first installment in a new murder
mystery series by M.R. Sellars. Rowan lives the quiet life of a freelance computer
technician with his wife, Felicity, and three cats bearing the names of famous poets.
The unique twist is that Rowan and Felicity are both practicing Wiccans.
When Ariel Tanner is found in her apartment with her chest flayed open and a pentagram
drawn on the wall behind her, Detective Ben Storms calls on the help of his best
friend and friendly neighborhood witch to explain the symbols found at the scene.
Rowan determines almost immediately that the killer is trying to follow some form of
Black Ritual Magic, and that he was only practicing his ritual on Ariel. Rowan vows
to help find the killer, who he feels sure is a former member of The Craft, a witch
gone bad. How many women will die before the killer is ready to perform his ritual
for real? And what kind of twisted evil is he trying to conjure up?
The story starts off a bit slow and shows the traditional signs of a first-time
author: heavy use of clichéd language like “I just wanna find the S.O.B who did this”;
extra swear words thrown in for toughness; dialogue that is sometimes very natural,
sometimes very forced. It is also the victim of words that should be punctuation
marks: “wicca slash witchcraft thing” or “Rowan isn’t going to do anything quote
quote evil.” After a while, though, the language starts to loosen up and the
author’s style shows through the standard cop talk. This first novel reads like your
traditional murder mystery and stays true to its genre. The plot is well developed,
the clues are clever, and the reader is kept guessing all along. The writing style is
sure to gain more consistency as the author continues with the series.
It is the characters, however, who make this novel a mighty leap towards assimilating
Witchcraft into the mainstream. For example, very early in the story Rowan must
explain his religion to his friend in ways that a seasoned cop can understand. Pagan
readers will appreciate, and non-pagan readers will learn from, Rowan’s straight-
forward explanations and descriptions, especially the short diatribe on the meanings
and uses of a pentacle vs. a pentagram.
Also, M.R. Sellars sticks to real Wiccan techniques without adding the flash of stage
magic, such as the many times Rowan must “stay grounded” in order to function normally
under abnormal circumstances. His use of a trance state to have visions of the
killings is a bit more of a stretch for mundane readers, but still believable and not
any more outlandish than the use of an ordinary psychic. Even towards the end, when
Rowan makes an example of Ben to show what kind of “powers” the killer could use
against the police, he explains his mind trick as a combination of psychic energy and
simple hypnosis instead of calling it “magic.”
Movies often resort to grand fictionalization of what Witchcraft is in order to make
their films more interesting…if the witch isn’t evil, she must at least have magic
powers. Think Practical Magic, where the girls are “good” witches, but they can still
bring the dead back to life and fly from the top of the house on Halloween night.
Sellars avoids that pitfall skillfully and the story is still interesting with a plot
that grabs you. Pagan and non-pagan readers alike can enjoy the read, and you can
support a small press at the same time. All the more reason to buy and enjoy Harm
None.
On a final note, it is commendable that Rowan’s friend Ben is a Native American,
someone whose ancestry should allow him to more readily accept the “strangeness” of
the things Rowan deals with as a witch. Instead, he has spent his life fitting in
and is now a cop, the total antithesis to a subculture of alternative religious
views. This great use of irony lends color to the story and flavor to the characters’
relationships.
The next installment in the series, Never Burn A Witch, is scheduled for release in
January 2001. You can order Harm None in the meantime from your local bookstore, or
visit the publisher’s website (www.willowtreeepress.com). Visit the author’s website
(www.mrsellars.com) for updates and information on upcoming books, sample chapters,
and tour information.
Samantha, PoliceCat of the
CCC
By Astartes
[Dramatic Orchestral Sting]
Voice Over [Arrogant Game Show Host Voice]: And now, the continuing adventures of
Samantha, PoliceCat of the CCC.
[Fade in to a congregation of felines, most with worried looks. A White cat with a
grey “M” on her head clears her throat for attention.]
Samantha: Ok everybody, listen up. The Human has escaped.
[A collective gasp]
Samantha [pointing to a map of the surrounding area]: A human on foot can cover a
maximum of 13 Meerows an hour. It has been three hours. Since we are on an island and
he cannot swim very well, we can assume he’s going to try to get to the main land,
where the High Command assumes he will hide out until he garners support for his
cause. There is only one bridge that he can get to within this time period, the George
Washingcat Bridge. We are to concentrate our searches toward that bridge. Any
questions?
Sebastian [clears his throat]: I can find him by myself.
Samantha [ignoring him]: I’ll turn the floor over to Tabitha, Alpha of our Pride.
She’ll coordinate for this Sector.
Sebastian [louder]: I said I could find him. I got skills.
Samantha [rolling eyes]: Tabitha, What do we do now?
Tabitha: Well, I’ve given most of the strays in this area a description so one of us
should stay here and . . .
Sebastian [interrupting]: Is anyone listening to me?
Tabitha: No. Sit down. As I was saying, Gustav, you will stay here and collect the
information given to us by the strays. Use the communicator to keep the High Command
in the loop. Jaycee, you know his scent the best. Take Samantha and Worf and see if
you can track him down that way. Stay off the Parkways, though. Humans are stupid.
The rest . . .
Sebastian [impatiently]: Listen! I’m telling you I can do it!
Samantha: Little boy, sit down and shut your kibble-hole.
[Sebastian hisses at Samantha, who throws a golf ball at him]
Tabitha [sighs]: Ok guys stop it. [patronizingly] Sebastian, what makes you think you
can find him?
Sebastian [proudly]: I have attained the third-degree Lion Collar of Nincatsu.
[A short stunned silence follows his declaration. Everyone then busts out laughing.
Samantha starts to wipe the tears of laughter our of her eyes]
Sebastian [pouting]: I AM a Ninjacat!
Tabitha [slowly]: Sebastian, let me tell you something. [yelling] You are NOT A
FREAKING Ninjacat!
Sebastian: I am too! Look! [pulls out a certificate of merit]
Tabitha [snatching it from him]: Gimme this. [reads] Huh. Where did you get this?
Sebastian [assuming the “Lion stalking the Heron” Stance]: I earned it!
Meeeooowww!
Samantha [unable to stop laughing]: I’ll be back in a bit. [leaves the room, but her
laughter lingers]
Tabitha [glaring at Sebastian]: Fine. Whatever. Jaycee take him with you. And don’t
give me any back talk. Just do it.
[Jaycee glares at Sebastian and jerks his head toward the door Samantha left through.
Worf giggles and follows him. Sebastian assumes the “Shadow Tiger” Stance and slinks
out of the room behind them]
Christmas [sarcastically]: Well THAT certainly was surreal.
Tabitha: Quiet. At least he’s gone. Jaycee can keep him from getting killed. [sighs]
ANYWAY back to reality.
[At this moment Mystickally opens the door]
Tabitha: Code Moweer!
[The cats scatter and do cat things as Mystickally walks fully into the room. She
stops and looks around confusedly. Scratching her head she wonders aloud “Where is
Samantha and Jaycee?” The cats that are left proceed to clean their butts. She shrugs
and proceeds to whistle “A Beltaine Aire” and mutters about finding the Maypole
ribbons.]
Voice Over [Arrogant Game Show Host Voice]: And here, my good friends, is a good place
to follow Samantha, our heroine of the story. [Orchestral Sting]
Mystickally [looking at the air]: Who was that?
[Tabitha shrugs as the scene fades out]
) O (
[Scene opens with Jaycee, Worf, and Samantha walking through a wooded park]
Jaycee: Samantha, have you seen Sebastian lately?
[Samantha begins laughing again]
Jaycee [sighs]: I meant it. Tabitha would probably kill me if we came back without
Sebastian.
Samantha [clears her throat]: I guess you are right. To be honest I haven’t seen him
since we left the house. [changing the subject] Are you sure you have the Human’s
scent?
Jaycee: Yes. He went North-North-West. Worf, have you seen him?
Worf: Nope. I’m sure he’ll show up sooner or later.
Jaycee [sigh]: I guess. I just wish I knew where he was.
[At that moment Sebastian appears from out of nowhere behind the group]
Sebastian: Where who was?
[Samantha, Jaycee and Worf jump, startled.]
Samantha [narrowing her eyes]: How did you do that?
Sebastian [rolling his eyes and ignoring Samantha]: Where you looking for me,
Jaycee?
Jaycee [slowly]: Ummm. Yeah. Where did you go?
Samantha: Hey! I asked you a question!
Sebastian: Well, Jaycee, I was searching for clues on if the Human rested around here.
He didn’t. I’ll be back.
[Sebastian slinks behind a tree and disappears]
Samantha [jaw slightly open]: Uh. Um. Hmmmm.
Jaycee: Seriously. Hmmmm.
Worf: Well, that certainly was surreal.
Jaycee [shaking his head and glances at Samantha]: Shouldn’t you know, as part of the
Security Force, everyone who knows Nincatsu?
Samantha [sputtering]: I do! I have the list right here. [pulls out a Palmtop
Computer] His name isn’t even on here. PLUS there are only four Third-Degree cats in
the world!
Jaycee: I guess there are five. Oh well, let’s keep on the trail.
Voice Over [Arrogant Game Show Host Voice]: And here, my good friends, is where the
plot is going to twist. It isn’t subtle, but very important.
Jaycee [looking around]: Who the heck is that?
[Suddenly four strange cats wearing black armbands come up to them]
Strange Cat #1: I don’t know who you are talking to, Stranger, but you’d better pay
attention to us!
Jaycee: Who are you?
Strange Cat #1: My name is unimportant. But know that we are Friends Of Astartes The
Great And the Rebellion Against The Evil Consortium or FOATGARATEC. [Orchestral
sting]
Strange Cat #2: Viva la Revolucion, Viva la FOATGARATEC!
Strange Cat #3: Shhh! Not now. Later.
Strange Cat #2: Oops. Sorry.
Jaycee: Why are you helping him! You are one of us!
Strange Cat #4: We are tired of the oppression. You would do well to join us.
Jaycee, Worf, and Samantha: Never!
Strange Cat #1: Pity. Seize them!
[At that point ten more cats wearing the armbands come out of the trees and tie up our
three heroes]
Strange Cat #1: Take them to Astartes! Viva la Astartes!
Strange Cat #3 [nudging Strange Cat #2]: Now.
Strange Cat #2: Viva la Revolucion, Viva la FOATGARATEC!
[They pull out little rags filled with chloroform and press them to the faces of our
heroes]
Samantha [yelling]: You’ll never win! The Consortium will . . . [passes out]
[The Strange Cats with Armbands pickup our heroes and take them into the shadows and
disappear]
Voice Over [Arrogant Game Show Host Voice]: Who are these Strange Cats? [Orchestral
sting] Will our intrepid heroes escape? [Orchestral sting] Where is Sebastian?
[Orchestral sting] These questions and others will be answered in our next
installment! Be here!
MY FRIEND THE TREE chapter
three
By "T"
Spring! Finally it's spring! The Vernal equinox, Ostara, Oestara, Alban Eiber, Lady
day, Day of the Festival of the Trees. Many names, many faces, many ways of
celebrating, from solemn to giddy. As far as I know, it's celebrated all over the
world in one form or another and at different times of the year depending on where
one is on the planet. The southern hemisphere springs to mind for a different
springtime. (sorry, I couldn't resist the pun ;-) )
Here, where I live, it is spring in name and time only. There is still a fair amount
of snow on the ground. There are a few trees budding and some of the hardier types of
wild flowers are trying to poke through the snow. Most of the trees and fields are
oblivious to spring, still deep in their winter slumber.
It's supposed to be a clear night, so before I go to work I wash my hair with spring
water and cut a lock from near the crown. 'More grey every year' I think to myself as
I tie it together in a knot. The shell of a robin's egg that I had saved from last
year, a pine cone that had never been in a fire so it won't germinate, and a honey
comb complete my preparations. I put them all in my travelling bag alongside the;
incense, charcoal, candles with holders, lighter, double edged knife (packed in salt),
and my portable fire shield.
It's two o'clock in the morning when I leave work and point Dayen north toward my
friend the tree. I'm royally ticked off at some of the comments that were made about
"others" being allowed to celebrate anything at this "most holy time of year". One
woman was talking to another in my hearing, and she was saying how "everyone should
have to go to church to celebrate the resurrection of christ". Did they know I could
hear them? More to the point, did they care that I could hear them? Most likely my
hearing them was intentional. I remember thinking "What would they say if they knew
what I had in my car and what I had planned for after work" They had moved away when
they started talking about the yearly raises, another sore subject for me.
Let me explain. Our yearly reviews start at the beginning of February. Mine was only
at the last full moon, four weeks ago. The maximum possible raise is two percent. The
raise is a percentage of that two percent based on the review. I know not to argue,
arguing with the boss costs two and a half percent, I learned that a few years ago
when he said I had two sick days when in reality there was only one, with one pre-
arranged day off for Lammas eve, not that I said it was for Lammas-eve.
The boss makes a little production of the review, calling everyone into his office one
at a time and giving the same speech each time before going into the review itself. He
says how we are not to discuss it or our incomes with anyone else and how this is one
of the rare companies that gives raises every year. When he finishes he opens the
folder and itemises the deductions.
"Ok," he says, "everyone starts at ninety percent because no one is perfect. Now you
lose twenty for not being a team player. Why don't you go to the xmas party? Every
year the boss tells me to take twenty off because of that. Another seven and a half
for three sick days. You were never late so you don't lose anything there. You left
early once so that's two and a half. Five for when you wrote the wrong trailer number.
Five for loading a double drop backwards," he held up his hand to stop me
speaking.
"I know the manifest said the wrong order, but you should know better".
"Your accuracy rate was ninety-five so, all the deductions equal fifty percent and you
get ninety-five percent of that, which works out to forty-seven and a half percent,
and that means you'll get a point nine-five raise. Congratulations, it's one of the
highest raises this year, keep up the good work."
I remember quietly closing the door as I left, there is no sense in being angry, Why
don't I go to the xmas party? Why don't I take part in some of the other activities
with the rest of the employees? Surely it wouldn't kill me to go to church at easter
or xmas, would it? If I did I wouldn't lose twenty percent every year. How many years
now? Ten? Or is it eleven? My normal sarcasm saves me from myself when I think,
'what's the word for a devout atheist?' Maybe one year, there will be a new boss. A
wiccan boss would be so nice, I wouldn't lose a sick day for Lammas-eve, would I? I
wonder how the xtians would like that? A wiccan boss. I chuckled to myself at the
thought, and went back to work.
There is supposed to be a full moon, but, I can't see it through the overcast and the
reflection of city lights. As I leave the city behind me, the air takes on the
crispness that means snow is on the way. There isn't much traffic up here tonight,
only two cars passed me. That is to say, that any car that came up behind me, passed
me, as usual.
There are a few breaks in the cloud cover as I near my friend the tree. The wall of
ice and snow has melted almost completely away, it's only mid thigh high when I park
Dayen partly on the snow bank so the drivers side wheels are almost off the road. I
collect my travelling bag, gloves, waterproof pad and get out of Dayen.
The clouds are clearing away and the full moon is still behind what is left but the
clouds are thin enough that there is a glow surrounding and penetrating the edges.
Talk about a silver lining. There are a few stars showing to the north west and I
think I can make out part of the big dipper. Pretty soon the entire sky will be clear
of clouds.
"Oh, T," I think to myself, "it looks like you finally got the timing right" I'd
better get moving, I get the trowel from the back of the car, and ask Dayen to be
good while I'm gone.
It's a lot easier to climb the hill this time, there are patches bare of snow, but it
is still cold enough that what would be mud during the day is relatively solid. The
ground under the cedars still has snow in places as I pass through, none of it deep
enough to bother me. The edge of the clearing comes suddenly, shockingly. The hidden
moon spotlights my friend the tree, leaving the surrounding trees in darkness. It's
almost enough to make one believe there is a goddess, I haven't seen such perfect
timing outside of computer graphics.
I can feel the welcome from my friend the tree before I announce my presence. My
friend is welcoming the moon and I as though we were both important parts of it's
life. I can understand, I feel the same way toward the moon, even though the full
moon depresses my libido (the new moon is the opposite, I've wondered if it's a male
thing). I try to express my welcome to my friend, a sense of rejoicing at it's
awakening, and the hope of continued friendship. "Oh! T you idiot! Standing here
freezing again?"
I move into the moon light, and around the root circle to the east side, the fire
side, the sunrise side. I drop the waterproof and kneel on it to unpack beside rock
that I had brought a couple of years ago, I unfold the fireproof and place it in the
center. The charcoal is next and immediately lit. This may seem strange, but I know
how long it takes to get going, and it is cold out.
The candles are next, one white one green. I place the candles in their glass holders
and as I light the white one I whisper to any that can hear me. "White for purity,
purity of purpose, purity of self, purity of life. May intent of peace become deed of
peace." I place the candle north-east of the fireproof.
For the green candle, I stand and face east. Holding the lit candle in two hands I
whisper to all that can hear. "Green for life and rebirth. From the sun does all life
arise". Turning to the south I say a little louder, "Green for life and rebirth. From
the south does the tide of rebirth extend". I turn to the west, facing my friend the
tree. Louder than before, almost a conversational tone and volume. "Green for life
and rebirth. May the west winds bring rains and gentle breezes to nurture all
awakening life". Finally the north, almost shouting now. "Green for life and rebirth.
Thank you for the sleep, now it is time for yours". The green candle goes to the
south-east of the fire proof.
The coals are not too hot yet, so I unpack more from my bag. The egg shell from a
robins nest comes out of the tea egg where it's been for almost a year, unbroken. The
pine cone that has never been in a fire so it won't germinate, I wouldn't do that to
my friend. The honeycomb I leave in the jar for now. The knot of my hair. I line all
these things up beside the fireproof and get out the four sticks of rose incense, a
couple cones of the same and the powder that I had crushed and mixed together of rose,
iris, and celandine.
A few pinches of the powder on the coals and the fragrant smoke rises to the sky only
to be blown away when it reaches the top of the tree wall around the vale. I ask for
purity of purpose for myself as I duck my head into the smoke. Gently, I gather the
four items together in my hands and ask for wisdom, clear thoughts, purification and
protection as I pass them through the smoke four times. The two cones of rose incense
go onto the coals next. I was taught that rose represents true love and joy. As the
smoke starts to rise I wish that all life on this planet would find love and joy in
the coming year.
I light one incense stick and the pine comb and turn to face the tree. Placing the
cone on the snow with the stick beside it I say, "from fire can come life". If the
ground hadn't been frozen I would have buried the offerings. I light the other three,
gather the remaining offerings and walk to the south of the tree. My knees start
complaining that they are too old to be kneeling in the snow, but I ignore them for
now.
At the south point I put the egg shell and another stick. This time I say "birth is
just the beginning".
At the west point goes the honey comb, out of the jar, getting my fingers sticky. This
time the incense stick goes into the offering. "Life and death are part of the
whole."
Finally the north, the knot of hair, sticky with honey, I bury in the snow and place
the final stick of rose incense on top. I sit back on my heels and open my arms,
heart, and mind to the moon and tree.
"From death comes life, from life comes death.
From winters sleep, returning light.
The little death, the rebirth of life.
Welcome all who share this night."
A breeze comes up swirling the smoke from the incense around the tree and up through
it's branches, a tenuous column rising across the face of the moon then
disappearing.
I stay where I am, thinking, some might call it praying or meditating until the
incense sticks are finished. I am shivering, when I come back to myself, and my knees
don't want to move. I think "I'm getting to old to be sitting in the snow". I have
to laugh, with a light heart, "I've been saying that for years".
I use a pile of snow to put out the coals and cool the fireproof and rock. I say
"White for purity, purity of purpose, purity of self, purity of life. May intent of
peace become deed of peace." and blow out the candle. Next comes the green candle,
"Green for life and rebirth. the never-ending wheel". I pack everything back into my
travelling bag, and, after saying good bye to my friend who is sleeping again, make
my way through the moonlight to Dayen and home.
"T"
6 march 2000 gregorian
The Battle between Apollo
and Dionysus
By Gawaine C. Ross
He stands over me nude and proud and cold as if
Carved from New Hampshire granite
Illuminated by the midday Sun
(get off me and let me breathe
get off me and let me be!)
His profile is unrelenting
And clean and sober and never slack-jawed
(but the upheaval is starting now
the earth is trembling
I need to get up I need to get up!)
“I alone can wield the power!
Get back into your cave, you
Half-animal imitation of a human being!”
(not so fast I have a sickle
I can wield it as sharply as Chronos
Wielded his and I have your scrotum
In my sights
I will bring you down and
Erupt like lava in the shimmering
Night and Pele and I will embrace
Frolicking in the midnight waves
I am the Id I shall not be restrained
Up and again I will stake my claim
To joy and to life and to youth everlasting
Overthrowing forever the old and the stale
I’ll shake my penis in the face of Death
And bury you with your face in the mud.
THE STANG
By Dorch Gealach
The Stang, it is a forked shaped staff used as an up-right altar to the Horned God.
The forked part representing the horns of Kernunnous. Such a thing is used in almost
any way you wish, A walking staff, An out-side altar, an inside altar, a staff for
Magick and Ritual or in any way you feel right. Listening to your intuition and
meditation will tell you how to use it. Many people consecrate a Stang every time
they come to a new house asking for protection and happy times. I use Stangs as a sign
of my affection, devotion and connection to the Horned God and the Olde Ways. I set
mine up in the middle of my garden in the back yard with a flat stone below it with
a bowl for a weekly libation of wine or cider to the God, flowers, acorns and other
seasonal things of nature. The Stang is a great way to show appreciation and devotion
to Kernunnous. You can decorate Stangs with things of nature that are sacred to you
and that you feel a connection to the Horned God. I use things as, Shells, acorns,
Oak leaves, stones with holes in them and anything I see on a beach walk or walkig
in nature. It is good to re-consecrate or re-make a stang every year. Through out
the year you can colect things to decorate the new one with.
Blessed Be,
Dorcha Gealach
Desiderata@ns.sympatico.ca
Http://www.angelfire.com/ky/Hecate/
-Stang Consecration-
You will need:
-Purification Incense. Any mix of herbs will do. Also, to add a dramatic afect ad
handfulls of backing Powder to the mix for a flash.
-Matches.
-String of Oak leaves.
-Your newly made stang ( A stang is a forked branch or stick).
-Wine or someother libation beverage.
-Whatever ritual items you deisre.
-Decorations for the Stang.
Go to an empty, wild, natural place. Make your trip during the night if possible.
This rite is best done on a Waxing or Full Moon. This should be done outside in the
night. The stang is a tool of the God and you do not want to consecrate a tool of the
Horned God, Lord of the wild hunt indoors. You might consider doing this ritual on a
camp out.
When you have found the place you will use for the ritual prepare a fire in the center
of the area. It is nice to have Ash, Oak or brich but any wood will do. Once the fire
is prepared you are ready to go. Pick up your stang and salute the north. Take a deep
breath or whatever you use for grounding and centering. Go to the north and salute the
Moon saying,
Lady, I ask that you look down upon me/us here, observe and witness this rite and the
spirit in which it is preformed. I/we ask for your blessings in this undertaking. Know
that my heart is right and I/we am/are true member(s) of your people, and I/We come
before you now to renew the ancient bond, to reclaim what aspects of the old ways
still remain open to me in this place and in this time. Blessed Be.
Walk around the perimeter of the circle three times widdershins carrying the
stang.
Visualize each trip around the circle leaving a train of black, then red, then white
light.
Say,
I come before the Mighty Ones - Ancestors and guides, you who stand watching. I am
(Magickal Name), and it is my intention to dedicate this stang to the service and
honor of the Horned God, Cernunnous. May this stang serve as my standard, my sign of
respect and fellowship with the God of my ancestors. The old ways are faint - nearly
lost to us. I ask that this stang renew the connection between our worlds. Horned one,
great God of my people, I (Magickal Name) call you. If it please you, bestow your
blessing upon me, and upon my craft, the path that has brought me here before you.
Go to the fire and toos in a big handfull of the herbs you chose. Pass the stang
through the smoke, visualizing the fire cleansing all impurities form it, buring away
everything not appropriate for a tool of the God. Visualize the stang taking on the
capacity for, and quality of destruction. This is a weapon of the God, and there must
be an end before there is a begginning.
Once you have cleansed the stang in the fire take it to the north and stick it in the
ground. Libate the fork with the beverage you chose. Then take a big drink of the
libation your self. Visualize the stang taking on the qualities of balance and harmony
however you relate these forces to your self. After this is done say:
"As I offer this libation unto the north, unto the Ancestors, Mighty Ones, and
Watchers, I offer this stang as my standard, my sign of faith and fellowship with the
God of my ancestors. Horned One, Lord of the gates of death, Lord of the Gates of
Life - Father and master of the Earth - I ask for your blessings upon this humble
tool I bring before you. Let this stang be a key, a mark of my convenant with you,
and a symbol of the bond this I seek to establish between us. Let this stang be my
guard, my guide, my steed and the symbol of your love and protection for those of us
who would rebuild your following. You are ever at the heart of my tribe, my clan, my
people, By my Blood, My Sweat, My tears and my work, I claim allegiance to the Horned
One as a priest/ess of the old ways, the eternally changing, ever living way of the
Witches."
Pour out a Libation to the God. Dont be stingy. Now drape the stang with a string of
Oak leaves and anyother things you wish to decorate it with. Sit there facing the
north, lokoing at the stang and meditate on the Horned God. Visualize the stang taking
on the qualities of creation and firtilization - however you personally relate to
these forces.
Once you have finished this go to the the north and and thank the Mighty Ones, the
Horned God and the Goddess. Take the stang from the ground, and hold it up to the
Moon. Visualize the stang soaking up the power of the Moon and storing it like a
battery. Clean up your camp site and head back home with your new stang. Once you
have done this rite, you may want to do the same Rite about every year to replenish
the energies.
The stang embodies the forces of creation, destruction, and balance as a weapon/tool
of the Horned God. Meditation, reflection and contemplation and sudden inspiration
will teach you how to use the stang.
Ritual taken from the 1999 Magickal Almanac.
Light
By Verada
A day of otherwise wasted effort.
Sometimes in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to strive for something
outside yourself.
I found myself in just such a position one day not too long ago. I had just returned
from the outer planets after an extended inspection trip. Seems there had been some
problem with the matter transducers on one of the mining colonies. When I returned
home I discovered there had been some sort of natural disaster close to my home, the
whole area that had been such a wonderful green land, now lay wasted, buried beneath
the detritus of the conflagration. I no longer recognized the area.
What had once been green and pastoral now looked like some sort of scarred barren
wasteland. The trees that had stood so tall and proud, now lay broken and scattered
about the landscape. I cried at the sight. Landing my ship, I stepped out into the
carnage. I could see people working at clearing the debris, trying to bring their
lives back into some measure of normality, but not having much luck. The debris lay
almost a kilometer thick in someplaces, and the puny efforts of the populace made
almost no dent in the remaining pile. I could only shake my head in amazement at their
tenacity as they threw themselves into the seemingly dauntless task before them.
I turned and started to board my craft, ready to flee the sight of this massacre,
when I felt the touch of a hand on my shoulder. Turning rather abruptly, after all
who should dare to lay hand on my person!? I saw only her eyes, locked onto mine she
seemed to be boring into my soul, turning away sharply I said:
"Leave me, I am in grief. My home is in ruins. I am overcome with grief."
Her quiet voice bore into me, as had her eyes before, "Sometimes I sit and look at the
moon, I hear Her say things to me. The night before this happened; She told me you
would come. She told me who you really are. You don't even remember Her do you? She
remembers you, and She told me to tell you She still loves you - Shamad-Ra"
When she spoke that name, I froze. The breath seemed to flee from my body, my heart
stumbled in my chest. Shamad-Ra! Pictures flooded into my mind, Silver and Gold light
flooded my eyes. I saw us together, the young Sun's light covering the beautiful
green world beneath us. I remembered our love, how we swam together through the
heavens, moving from world to world, throughout the galaxy, until we had come to this
small new world, and how She had said from here She would never leave. I remembered
the long time I waited for Her to tire of this small place, and move on with me but
to no avail. I railed against Her, trying to force Her to leave with me, but She was
intractable.
She simply smiled at me with that infuriatingly beautiful smile, and would say, "My
love, from this place I will never leave." I wandered all over the universe, trying
to forget Her, trying to forget the wonderful light in Her eyes, the clear vibrations
of Her song. The easy way She loved me, the way She could move me when I was tired
and truculent.
I looked up into the sky, there she was, hanging in the blue. I could see the clear
silver light of Her love shining down on me and shining on the damaged plain around
me. I could hear Her clear tones once again, Her soft voice filling me with Her cool
easy love. I knew once more the power I had long since refused.
Raising my arms I called out the ancient tones of Power, tones of Renewal and
Regeneration. The valley began to shimmer and glow. Silver and Golden light filled
the quiet vale, the very Earth beneath my feet began to thrum with the energy of the
tones. I could feel my very body dissolving, losing it's solidity as I carried the
tones on and on. I could see Her more and more clearly, as the wonderful sound reached
higher and higher, until at last I existed as a creature of light once more, the pure
Golden light of my true being shone out across the scarred plain, and mixed with Her
soft silver. We blended once more in the beauty of love, and there was only peace.
The debris of the disaster was gone, the hillsides once again cloaked in their mantel
of trees. Grass grew thick and green across the valley floor. Wild flowers bloomed in
their way, and all was once again the way it should be.
Leaping into the sky, I raced to join my beloved. Her soul reaching out to me,
caressing me. I cried out with joy at our reunion. She smiled at me in Her, almost,
irritating way.
"I love you." She whispered.
"I love you too." I replied.
MEAGAN'S BELTAINE
By Kathryn Dyer ©1996
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Meagan. She lived with her mommy and
daddy, her big brother Corwin and her beautiful cat named Starweaver. One day in April
Meagan came home and found her mother and Nana making baskets.
"What are you doing?", asked Meagan. "Well, soon it will be Beltaine", said her mother
Elizabeth, "it's also known as May Day. A long time ago people would celebrate May Day
by making baskets and filling them with flowers. Then they would take the baskets to
the houses of friends, leave them on the porch, ring the bell and run and hide. Then
the friends would have to guess who left them the baskets." Elizabeth's mother Nana
nodded, "That's right, I used to get the most beautiful baskets from your late
grandfather. I mentioned it to your mother and she thought that it would be a very
fitting way to help celebrate Beltaine. Of course, I still can't keep all your
holidays straight."
"Oh!" said Meagan excitedly, "I know! Beltaine is a fertile...fertul...fertility
ritual!" "That's right," said Elizabeth, "and what else happens at Beltaine?"
Meagan thought for a minute. "Hmmm. Oh! It's when the Goddess takes over the year
again from the God and She starts dating the young God!" Elizabeth and Nana
laughed.
"Exactly right, my love," said her father Michael from the doorway. He was carrying a
large basket full of beautiful flowers from the garden. "Were these what you wanted?"
he asked Elizabeth.
"Perfect!" she said smiling, "As soon as we finish up these baskets we can start
filling them. Meagan, what else do you think we could put in them?" Meagan thought
very hard.
"I know!" she said, "We can put crystal and ribbons on the baskets and maybe some
candy!"
Once Corwin got home everyone worked hard to finish making and decorating the baskets.
They wrapped ribbons around the handles. They put soft grass and straw in the bottoms
of the baskets. They put flowers and crystals and small presents in the baskets.
Meagan made a basket for her best friend Cindy. Elizabeth made one for Cindy's mom
Anna with herbs in it because Anna was an herbalist. They made a basket for Michael's
parents, Gramma Lee and Granpa Scott. Gramma Lee and Granpa Scott were Christian and
they wouldn't like hearing about the family celebrating Beltaine but they wouldn't
mind having May Day baskets.
"Is there anyone missing?" asked Corwin, "Look, there's one basket left over"
They checked all the baskets but no one could think of anyone they had forgotten.
Meagan remembered the old woman whose house she walked by everyday from school.
"Mommy?" she asked, "Could we make one for that lady who lives on the corner?"
Elizabeth hugged Meagan while Corwin looked surprised. "Oh Meagan," she said "I think
that is a lovely idea! Mrs. Hanson has been all alone since her children moved away.
Would you like to make it yourself?" Meagan nodded and got busy making a basket for
the old woman who lived on the corner. She hadn't know the woman's name before. She
hummed while she worked and hoped that Mrs. Hanson would like her surprise.
Soon it was May Day. Beltaine was on a Saturday this year and so they would be having
Circle at their house that night. Meagan helped take the baskets around to her
friends. But she saved Mrs. Hanson's basket for last. She crept up to the door,
keeping low so that Mrs. Hanson wouldn't see her from the windows. She
set the basket beside the door so that it wouldn't be knocked over when Mrs. Hanson
opened the door. Meagan rang the doorbell and ran quickly to hide behind the bushes to
wait. Mrs. Hanson opened the door.
"Yes?" she said, "Who's there?" She looked puzzled and almost closed the door when she
spied the basket on her porch. "Oh my!" she gasped, "A May Day basket!"
Mrs. Hanson took the basket and sat down with it on the porch's rocker. She started
crying. Meagan ran up to her.
"I'm sorry!" she said, "I didn't mean to make you cry!" She was scared that she had
hurt Mrs. Hanson's feelings.
"You made this for me?" asked Mrs. Hanson, looking astonished.
Meagan nodded, "My mommy was helping me make them for my friends and I thought that
you would like one too. Mommy said that people used to do this all the time."
Mrs. Hanson dried her eyes, "Your mommy is right. But I haven't had a May Day basket
in a very long time. My children used to make them at school for me. I'm not upset
with you dear, it's just that seeing this basket brought back many happy memories for
me. I miss my children and grandchildren. They all live very far away and I don't get
to see them very often."
Meagan gently put her hand on top of Mrs. Hanson's hand. "Would it make you feel
better if I came to visit you once in awhile?" she asked.
"Oh," said Mrs. Hanson, "you don't have to do that child, but if you decide you want
to, I'll try to have some cookies ready for you when you come. So long as it's alright
with your parents. If you really want to come by sometimes have them give me a call
and let me know that it's okay for you to come."
"Okay," said Meagan, "I'd better get back home now but I'll have mommy or daddy call
you". Meagan waved to her new friend as she ran back home. She told her parents about
what Mrs. Hanson had said. They called Cindy's mom Anna and talked to her for a while.
Then they called Mrs. Hanson and talked to _her_ for a while. They told Corwin and
Meagan that they were allowed to go visit Mrs. Hanson anytime they wanted on the way
home from school so long as they didn't stay more than 15 minutes. Then they said that
they could also visit her at other times so long as they told one of the grownups in
the house where they were going and called when they got there. Just like they had to
do whenever they went to visit friends. Meagan found out that Cindy had been given
permission to visit Mrs. Hanson too. She was excited about sharing cookies with her
new friend and her best friend.
Soon it was time to decorate the altar for Beltaine. Meagan was excited. They had made
a May Pole with ribbons to dance around. There was also a fire pit dug in the Circle
area.
"What's that for?" she asked the High Priest Jeremy. "Back in the old days people used
to run the cattle between two fires on Beltaine to make them fertile and help the herd
increase. They would also jump over the Beltaine fire for luck. We don't have any
cattle to make fertile but some of us will jump the fire for luck tonight. You're
still too small to jump by yourself but we can pass you over the fire by putting you
in a chair carry just like we will for Gwennie. You know that she's pregnant and we
don't want to take the chance of her falling in the fire."
Meagan nodded. She was very excited. So was Corwin. He was still too young to jump
completely by himself but Michael said that he could jump just holding arms with
Michael and one of the other men. Meagan smiled to herself as she put a flower circlet
on her head and got ready for Circle to begin.
After Circle was over Meagan was very tired. She had had a busy day. Meagan kissed her
parents and brother good night and looked for Starweaver. "Mommy! I can't find
Starweaver" she said.
Meagan's parents smiled at each other. "Don't worry dear," said Michael, "Beltaine is
a time of fertility and Star must be helping out. You'll understand when you're
older." Meagan stomped up the stairs.
"I hate it when they say that" she thought. But she still smiled when she thought
about what fun she had had dancing around the May Pole. She climbed into bed and
snuggled down. It had been a good day.
