The Consequences of One’s Actions

I just downloaded this journaling app thinking that doing some journaling might relax me, since I’d be doing it on my tablet and not in a paper journal that someone might find and read (or tear into confetti because he opted to choose violence).

I guess it’s good that I decided to do this because today…I really can’t even.

I don’t know where to start.

Okay, I do know where to start. Where does everything in my life start? With Emmanuel, of course. 

I wonder if anyone else has a large bird familiar that gives them the kind of problems Emmanuel gives me.

At least my hair isn’t chartreuse today, even though Emmanuel is in a mood.

It started with the crab Rangoon.

I don’t know why Emmanuel likes to steal food delivery.

Well, I do know. He likes chaos. That’s why he does it.

But this time, it was Asian food, and there was a triple order of crab Rangoon because Mom, Father, and I all love it. 

There was NOT an order for Emmanuel because people food often disagrees with him. I think it’s because he will eat things that aren’t really good for birds, but he’s stubborn and is going to do what he wants when he wants.

Yesterday, what he wanted was crab Rangoon, apparently.

All three orders of it.

He had quite the Rangoon party.

And was incredibly pleased with himself.

And then came today. 

And the consequences.

Dire consequences.

Did you know that flightless birds can be flatulent? (Or maybe it’s just emus, I’m not sure.)

I know that. Now.

Because I woke up this morning at around 3:00 a.m. in a cloud of the most horrendous stench that has ever stenched. I’m pretty sure there was an actual, physical cloud. (And before you ask, no, it was not chartreuse. That came later, when he didn’t get the sympathy he thought he deserved. But I’m getting ahead of myself.)

I opened all my bedroom windows – in Laiho, in winter! – and turned on a fan to try to clear the air.

Then I heard a terrible, terrible sound coming from my bathroom.

Now, an emu’s poo is usually large – they’re big birds – and looks kind of like a goose’s poo, meaning that it’s firm (ish) and not splattery like most smaller bird poo.

Unless, of course, an emu has eaten three orders of crab Rangoon. Then, emu poo is most definitely splattery. And liquidy. And stinky. And gross.

And when you say something like, “Oh my gods, Emmanuel, this is disgusting!”, you get an evil look from the emu in question, accompanied by more horrible splattering noises and a smell that is more fit for the bowels of hell than the bowels of a bird. 

It’s even worse when the noise and the smell and the shouting and the sounds of a large bird in distress wake up your parents.

At least my Druid mother was able to put together something to give Emmanuel some relief, and Father called water to help clean the bathroom. (I have to give Emmanuel his due – he contained the mess as best he could, given his condition, so clean-up wasn’t as bad as it could have been…but it may be a while before I can bring myself to use my bathtub. At least the shower is separate).

However, Father had a bit of a discussion with Emmanuel concerning food stealing, overeating, and the consequences of one’s actions.

And that is why Father called out of work today. It seems that someone (who is feeling much better now) doesn’t care for lectures, and now Father is releasing a very visible chartreuse cloud about every hour or so – a cloud perfectly positioned to make one think that Father may be experiencing some digestive issues himself.

And that is why we will never have Asian food delivered to the house again.

James says: This may, of all the things we have created for Perfect Coven Earth, be the absolutely silliest yet! And I love it! I want more of this. The backstory. The next installment. Whatever. This has some great potential.

Mickie says: I just had to explain to my boss why I was laughing.  This is utterly silly, but anyone who has had a pet can sympathize with ‘animal digestive issues’ as well as willful critters who will do things that are bad for them and have unpleasant results. I love this whole Emmanuel series.  We have a nameless, faceless narrator who gives us vignettes of her daily life and the antics of her familiar, which are usually given in a dry yet hilarious fashion.

October Blog – A Short Story!

Bird Bath

Charlotte Redfeather, also called Zintkala Cikala, stepped out of the shower, and cracked the door to her bedroom, letting steam billow out.  She dried off and grabbed her robe, tying it around her waist before bundling her hair into a towel.  She looked up at the creaking of the door as her familiar, Aldric, used his beak to force the door open.

He stuck his head in and made a questioning chirrup. 

“Sorry bud, I’m done.”

It was not what he wanted to hear, as he wedged himself into the small bathroom and shoved past his Witch to stand in the shower enclosure.  He fluffed his feathers, then grasped the faucet handle with his beak, trying to turn the water back on.

“Aldric, you’ll need to find another place for a bird bath.  Aunt Kimimela asked me to go on Wachiwi’s field trip as a chaperone, and I have to meet them at the school at 7:30. If you are going with us, you don’t have time for a bath.”

The stubborn bird, nearly 3 feet high, continued his attempts to turn the shower on.  Charlie left him to it, and stepped into her bedroom.  A quick check of the time had her hustling to get ready. 

Truthfully, she was excited to go on the field trip with her young cousin.   At 17, she was considered old enough to escort the elementary level students on their trip to the St. Paul Zoo.  The weather, while still cool at night, was finally warm enough for the Bird Yard to open and the flamingos to be out.  She loved seeing the exotic animals and she was excited to see the vibrant, tropical birds.  They were so odd looking but still beautiful.

She looked into the bathroom as she unbundled her hair. Yes, her stubborn familiar was still messing with the shower.  Shaking her head, she finger combed her damp hair, looking over her shoulder towards the door to the hall.  She picked up her comb, and quickly pulled it through her hair.  She smirked as the working she’d placed on the comb did its job, drying the heavy, dark mane with each pass.  Some members of her family looked down on using Witchery for such a simple purpose, but Charlie didn’t see the point of having the ability and not using it.

Loud clattering had her turning back to the bathroom as her Familiar staggered out.  He hopped over towards her, then opened his wings as far as space would allow.  He opened his beak and posed, glaring at her as she moved around him to get dressed.

“Oh, I’m so threatened,” she deadpanned as she pulled a thin sweater over her head. 

Aldric clacked his beak, then darted his head towards a pile of throw pillows stacked at the end of her bed. He snapped his beak shut on a pillow. Charlie yelped as he shook his head, throwing stuffing all over the room.

“You brat!”  she cried, as she quickly waved her hands at the filler.  She grabbed the now empty pillow out of Aldric’s mouth, tearing it further.  She swatted at him with it, then flicked her fingers at the accumulated fluff, directing it to the destroyed slip.

“You are in such a mood today!” she exclaimed, as she stuffed the pillow into a drawer where her other Aunt, Chumani, would not find it. She glared at her Familiar.  He glared back at her, still holding his wings high.  She sighed.  If he stayed in this mood, he would be insufferable all day.

She finished dressing quickly, not wanting to give Aldric time to express his displeasure further.  She opened her bedroom door, glancing quickly down the hall for any family members.  Holding the door, she reached for her small purse, and pointed to the hallway. 

“Let’s go,” she said, in case Aldric has missed that it was time to go.

He had not moved yet, and she knew he had to be tired of holding his wings up.  As she watched, he slowly leaned towards her bed, like he was going to snatch another pillow. With a quick burst of will, she moved all the pillows to the head of the bed. 

Behind her, she heard an exasperated huff. She turned to find her eldest Aunt, Chumani, Uh-oh.

“Zintkala, that is a wasteful and inappropriate use of your Tonwan.  I know my sister thinks you are grown enough to be responsible for the children, but this shows a dangerous lack of maturity and responsibility,” she scolded. “It takes but a moment to make your bed manually.  You should not waste your blessings on something so simple.”

Charlie kept her mouth shut, other than to say, “Yes Aunt, I apologize for my laziness.”  She glared at Aldric, unable to blame him as an inability to manage her Familiar would also be considered a failing by her punctilious Aunt. No excuses would be worth the additional lecture.

She skirted past her aunt, and relaxed a small bit as she heard the scrape of claws that meant Aldric was following behind her.  The last thing she needed was to try to manage her stubborn Familiar in front of her fussiest Aunt.  She led the way to the kitchen, where she put together a quick breakfast before moving to the mudroom. She grabbed her coat and gloves, slipping them on before opening the door. She held the door for Aldric, and groaned internally as Chumani followed him outside.

Aldric took to the air once they were outside, leaving her along with her aunt.  Charlie braced herself, knowing Chumani was about to start a lecture that would last the entire 10-minute walk to the elementary school.  As her aunt started her familiar scolding, Charlie wondered if Aldric intended to accompany the group to the zoo.  Sometimes, he wanted to be constantly attached to her, and other times, he would disappear for hours, soaring through the skies.  She tracked reports of his sightings, as he could travel tremendous distances.  He’d been seen up to 300 miles away before.  She hoped he’d take the day to fly to work out his orneriness.

Eight minutes later, Chumani finally wound down the lecture and left to handle her morning errands, making a threat to speak with her father about taking a firmer hand with Charlie.  Touches the Sky was an important man in their community, but Grandfather was also her main teacher in Witchery, being the Elder with the strongest gift that matched hers.  Considering that Grandfather got scolded and lectured by Chumani as often as Charlie did, Charlie wasn’t sure what good speaking to him.

She picked up her pace as she got closer to the school.  There was already a small crowd gathered near the yellow bus, and she spotted her young cousin, 8-year-old Wachiwi, standing with her friends.  Almond brown eyes met hers, and she broke away from the group, waving at Charlie. 

She wrapped the small girl in a hug, picking her up and swinging her around.  “Hi Dancing Girl”, she said, using the literal translation of her name.

“Zintkala Cikala – Little Bird,” the girl squeaked.  “Are you coming to the zoo with us?”

Charlie smiled as she put her cousin back on the ground.  “Didn’t your mom tell you? I’m one of your chaperones!”

Two other young girls approached Charlie and Wachiwi. Wachiwi quickly explained that Charlie was their chaperone, and she was surrounded by jumping kids. 

Charlie herded her young charges back to the bus, and greeted Wachiwi’s mother, Kimimela, with a hug.  They both scanned the sky, Charlie looking for her Familiar, and Kimimela looking for clouds.  Deep inside, Charlie was aware of Aldric and his joy of flight.  The sky was clear, to their relief.  Charlie stepped onto the bus, and turned her attention to the rowdy kids, leaving thoughts of her grumpy Familiar behind.

###

Aunt Kimi, knowing her niece’s fascination with the flamingos, had released her from chaperone duties while the rest of the group was watching a film in the Reptile House.  She frowned as she noticed the clouds building in the distance.  They were supposed to have a clear day, but weather was so fickle this time of the year.

Charlie sat on a shaded bench in front of the Bird enclosure and sighed with happiness. She was holding the cutest flamingo plushie on her lap and before her, close to 100 flamingos frolicked in the pool, their pink plumage reflecting in the water. They seemed a bit restless, gathering near the grotto.  Maybe they were affected by the incoming weather, Charlie pondered. 

Soon enough however, duty called.  Wachiwi and a couple of her friends, Chapa and Tahcawin ran up to Charlie as she watched the flamingos. 

“Zintkala, Ina gave me money so we can buy drinks!”  The trio of seven-year-olds girls gathered around her, and Wachiwi showed her bill they’d been given.

“Twenty whole dollars?” She exclaimed. “You’re rich – you can buy everything with that!”

The girls bustled with excitement and Chapa wanted to know what ‘everything’ was.  Charlie dutifully pointed out the different options: “They have orange drinks over there next to the popcorn man; there’s a beverage station on the other side of the pond that sells slushies in all kinds of flavors; there’s also a place to get just water or juice if that’s what you want.”

There was no need for discussion – slushies were the clear winner.  As the girls earnestly discussed what flavor to get, Charlie guided them to the kiosk.  

As she paid for the drinks, after admonishing the girls to hold their drinks with both hands, Charlie noticed a bit of uproar outside. People scurried into the semi-covered area as the wind whipped up outside.  A harried looking woman fretted about the possibility of rain as she herded her charges to a table. 

She directed the kids to the napkin and straw dispensers, as she leaned out to see what was going on. As she looked, the crowd slowed, people pointing skyward.  There was a blot in the sky, and behind it, clouds boiled and piled into a massive thunderhead. The wind kicked up again, and Charlie’s eyes grew wide as saucers as the blot became clear.

“Oh no,” she whispered in horror as a massive raptor flew past, swooping over the pond with its talons skimming the water before clearing the fence and turning for another pass. The flamingos huddled together, their legs digging into the mud as the predator flew over them again.

The enormous bird landed, his massive wingspan covering the entire cove.  He posed in the shallows, looking around as people surged towards the fence. As he gazed at his growing audience, he slowly raised his wings, showing all the brilliant reds and whites of his plumage, dark and powerful compared to fragile pink birds across the pond.  He glanced at the flamingos, and snapped his beak at them, sending them into a flutter.  Then, he casually strutted into the water and turned again towards the fence of the enclosure, looking around.

His eyes met Charlie’s.  His beak opened, opening his wings to their full extension.  He clacked his beak at her.  As she watched in mute horror, her Familiar ducked into the water, rousing his feathers thoroughly.

Charlie was stunned and had absolutely no idea what to do.  She looked around, but no one from her group was near, except Wachiwi and her friends.  They sidled up to her, and Wachiwi leaned close and asked., “Isn’t that Al-?”  Charlie clapped her hand over her mouth.  “Shhhh”. 

Aldric proceeded to bathe, dipping in and out of the pond, shaking his feathers dry, then doing it again, occasionally whistling his enjoyment. Any time he paused, he made a point to meet Charlie’s eyes, before glaring at the flamingos and snapping his beak at them in a threatening manner.  Then he’d go back to his leisurely bath.

Charlie had a horrible vision of Aldric snapping up a flamingo and tossing feathers everywhere, like he’d done to her pillow this morning.  This was punishment, not only for denying him his shower this morning, but for coming to admire the exotic birds.  Her Familiar was jealous, possessive and vindictive.

All around them, visitors were snapping pictures and laughing at the giant bird’s antics, completely ignoring the fact that Aldric was large enough to fly off with one of their children if he was that kind of bird.  The gathered crowd had no way of knowing he was a Familiar and therefore safe. 

Charlie started working her way to the front of the crowd surrounding the bird house, pushing her charges in front of her.  She used Wachiwi, Tahcawin and Chapa as a wedge, and people parted to let the little girls closer to the fence to see the ‘wild bird’.  They made it to the front of the crowd, slightly to the right of Aldric.  The girls giggled with delight as he ducked his feathers and roused thoroughly, shaking water at the crowd.

“Stop it!” Charlie hissed at him, not daring to yell.  Her familiar ignored her, holding his feathers high and shaking them so she was splattered with pond water.  “Aldric, you oversized parakeet, don’t you ignore me!” She whisper-shouted.  “Get out of there right now!”

With a disdainful glare at the flamingos, still huddled across the pond, he stood on one foot, tucking the other under him.  He turned his head, making eye contact.  His posture said “Make me” as he shifted to balance himself.  His mockery was clear.  He was going to draw this out as long as he could.

Thoughts racing, Charlie looked around trying to figure out how to handle her jealous Familiar.  She saw a group of zoo employees making their way to the enclosure.  One woman in particular stood out, as she had curly, red hair in a pixie cut which suited her delicate features and small frame.  Her curls bounced as she rushed up to the fence near Charlie and the girls.

She was talking excitedly to a man, who followed more sedately, but both were intense in their observation of the scene playing out. Charlie made out the woman’s words as she neared, “…unknown species.  It’s definitely some sort of raptor – look at that beak.  The coloring is similar to a Red-Tailed Hawk, but so much brighter, but that is not a hawk of any sort.”

Her companion finally managed to get a word in as she took a breath, “Agreed, that’s not an eagle or hawk of any sort. It’s the largest raptor I’ve ever seen!”

“Do you think it’s injured, Neil?” the woman waved her hand at Aldric.

“Even if it is injured Aubrey, how would we get close enough to do anything about it?  Again, that’s the largest raptor I’ve ever seen!  The talons alone are probably six inches long.  And you mentioned the beak.”  Neil shook his head, longish brown hair falling into his face as he shrugged.

Neil, Aubrey and several other zoo employees stood and observed the scene.   Charlie watched them out of the corner of her eye as she also tried to keep Aldric within her sight.  She kept hoping Aldric would get bored and fly off, but it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere soon.  Within their bond, she could feel his obstinance and sent him her own plea for him to leave.  Aubrey gasped as Aldric looked in their direction and snapped his beak again. Charlie sighed.  He wasn’t done punishing her.

She looked around again, hoping to see her Aunt Kimi.  She might not be able to control her familiar, but he had a healthy respect for Aunt Kimi.  There was nothing for it, she concluded as she listened to Neil and Aubrey discuss how to approach Aldric without provoking him. She was going to have to own up to this.

“’Chiwi, can you go find your mother and tell her Aldric is here, causing a scene? I think I need her help. He’s not listening to me.” She hated to do it, but better to get it under control sooner than later.  For all that Aldric was her familiar, he was also a massive predator bird with a grudge against the flamingos huddled across the pond.  The last thing she needed was for him to strip the pinky-orange feathers off the helpless birds because he was in a mood.

She watched her cousin run in the direction of the bird house, with her two friends following in her wake.  That kid loved having a mission, she thought, before turning back to her errant familiar.  She walked up to the fence, gripping it with both hands, and hissed at him.  “Aldric, we are both in enough trouble. You need to go home.”

The mulish bird practically jumped into the deeper part of the pond; a couple of feet closer to the very nervous flamingos.  He thrashed about a bit, stirring up the pond.  That imp from hell, she thought, anger brewing. She took a quick look around, and then stared at Aldric.  She narrowed her eyes, and whispered, “No more waves, stupid familiar behave,” and jerked her hand.

Aldric snapped his beak at her, and proceeded to turn around and flap his wings, splashing water on everyone in front of him, including Charlie.   She stood in disbelief as water dripped down her face, the crowd around her still laughing at the bird’s crazy antics.  The two zoo employees next to her were also shaking water off themselves, though they had not caught as much of the splash as Charlie, and were exclaiming over the unusual predator behavior, while their colleagues discussed what kind of raptor they were observing.

Charlie lost it.  She threw both hands towards Aldric, and threw her will at him, imagining him hovering in the air.  She yelled: “Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? It’s time to get this annoying bird out of the pool!” Aldric rose into the air, his claws just touching the water as he frantically flapped his wings at her.  The wind picked up, clouds raced, and thunder made the ground shake as Charlie tried to pull Aldric towards the shore.  Charlie stumbled in the windstorm, and lost her hold on Aldric.  He shot to the sky, circling quickly to land in the pond again, driving a large splash towards his furious Witch.  

Charlie again wiped pond water from her face, and shielded her eyes against the dust stirred up by Aldric’s wind.  She pointed at him, and pulled out another rhyme: “Birds of a feather flock together, put a stop to this bad weather.”  The wind eased as Charlie’s working hit Aldric and he fell back into the water.

She glared stonily as her familiar awkwardly got himself back in the shallows of the pond, all the while, avoiding eye contact with his witch.  He walked to the fence line, peering between the links at his audience, then stood on one foot and tucked his head into his wing. 

“Enough!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the crowd noise.  “Goosey, goosey, gander, your antics I shall no longer pander!  Aldric!   Get out of there once, or I will use every single one of your flight feathers to make myself one hell of a war bonnet!”

Charlie rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, as voices rose around her, commenting on how the giant eagle was imitating the flamingos and not commenting at all about her bizarre nursery rhymes.  She could hear someone coming near, and slid her hands up into her hair, to see the two zoo employees approaching her.  They stopped next to her and the redhead looked at Charlie inquiringly.

Charlie sighed, dropping her arms.  “He’s my familiar. I’m so sorry.”

The tall guy dropped his shoulder, “I guess we don’t get to discover a new species today after all.  He’s a breathtaking bird though.”

“He is,” his counterpart agreed.  “I’m Dr. Aubrey Lennox and he’s Dr. Neil Campino. We’re both ornithologists so you can see why we are so excited over him.”

Charlie shook her head.  “Everyone is excited about him until they get to know him,” Charlie grumbled. She paused to glare at her familiar. “Aren’t you done yet?  Come out of there!”

The rotten bird shivered his feathers a bit, but did not change his stance. Charlie rolled her eyes.  “Don’t make me…” she started, only to be interrupted by a heavy hand on her shoulder.  “Zintkala…not another word, not another working, do you hear me?”

Charlie blanched, having forgotten that she’d sent Chiwi to find Aunt Chumani, who had arrived in time to see her niece fight with her familiar.  She introduced herself to Dr. Lennox and Dr. Campino, shaking hands with them and apologizing for the chaos.

She then turned to face Aldric, who was still in the flamingo pen, peering through the fence.  She gestured next to Charlie, and said “Now”.    The crowd shifted, opening space for Aldric to land next to the small group.  Chumani raised an eyebrow and the cowed familiar, then turned to her equally cowed niece. “Explain what just happened, please.”

Charlie sighed, her whole body falling with it.  She looked up at her surprisingly fierce Aunt, and said, “He’s in a jealous snit because I like the flamingos.”

Dr. Campino didn’t bother to hide his grin.  “I did not have a jealous…what kind of bird is he anyway?”

Charlie looked to her aunt, who was very familiar with Aldric’s possessive nature. She too was smirking at the ridiculousness of the situation.  She looked back to the ornithologists. “He’s, well, he’s kind of a Thunderbird.”

“Wow,” Dr. Aubrey exclaimed, as she examined Aldric intensively.  “So, the wind and thunder were all from him? That’s amazing!”

“A jealous Thunderbird familiar…” , Dr. Campino said, “I did not have that on my Bingo card for today.”

Around them, but at a slight distance, people were still trying to snap pictures of Aldric.  Charlie glanced at him, and could tell that the worst of his moodiness was gone.  He’d made an utter spectacle of himself, and gotten them both in trouble.  Mischief achieved. 

Her aunt was talking to Dr. Lennox and Dr. Neil, and they agreed to retreat to a less congested area to continue the conversation.   Chiwi snuck up beside her, and tugged on her sleeve.  “I got you a slushy. I think you need it.”

Charlie took the drink gratefully, and gave her cousin a quick hug. “Thanks.”

Chiwi looked to Aldric, who was entertaining himself by posing for pictures.  “I hope my familiar is something small that can’t fly.”

James says:  Most familiar-witch relationships in our world have proven to be fond and loving. This one appears to be a bit different than most. Certainly fond and loving, but Aldric is a bit of a handful, even for Charlie.

Sid says: Oh, familiars! Always so much fun to write, especially the snarky ones like Ette and Aldric (wait…why is always the birds? I bet Mickie has a theory and it involves birds’ proximity to their dinosaur roots). Anyway, this is a great glimpse at a younger Charlie and Aldric, as they’re growing into their shared witchery. And it’s an amusing look at the witch/familiar dynamic when a witch has an especially strong-willed familiar. James, I’m waiting on a young Jasper and Ette story now.

10/20/2023 Weekly Update

10/19/2023 → Thursday Skype &  Write

So – last night was a fingers-on-keyboards kind of night. We were heads down, all business, and we got some things done (and we’re very happy with our progress!).

James is hard at work on his revisions for Homegrown Murder. Mickie is also hard at work on her edits for Charlie’s Web.

Sid was not working on revisions, but on reading Mickie’s blog post, sending her “says” over to Mickie, and doing a bit of editing on a story for Mickie.

Making progress makes for boring updates; sorry about that, but then, progress means more books out in the world, so yay!

Next week is another writing session, so come on back and I’ll tell you all about it!

9/22/2023 Weekly Update

9/21/2023 → Thursday Skype &  Write

Last night was our normal, weekly, fingers-on-keyboards type of meeting, even though we were all very tired. Still, we did the thing and managed to get some things done.

For instance, James made some serious progress revising the first scene of Homegrown Murder. Mickie is about to finish up a short story, and we all had a good time helping her come up with some rhyming schoolyard taunts.

Sid finished and published the September Perfect Coven blog (you can read it here), then worked up/made some notes about reworking a couple of scenes in Faded Legacy per James’s comments.

That was where we left things for the night. We’ll be back next week, doing the thing once again. See you then!

8/11/2023 Weekly Update

8/10/2023 → Thursday Skype &  Write

Last night we did the skyping (actually, that’s a misnomer, since we don’t actually use Skype, we use Google Meet, but it just doesn’t flow as well). And we did some writing. And we accomplished some things.

First off: Mickie wrote 500 words on a short story that she’s been working on for a bit, but that had given her a bit of a block. She blew through that block last night, and honestly, I can’t wait to read this story.

Sid began reading Homegrown Murder, recently completed and sent over by James, in preparation for an edit and critique pass. She wanted to read the book first to get a feel for the story before she started commenting. She made it through Chapter Four.

James began his edit/critique pass on Faded Legacy, as Sid recently completed the second draft and submitted it for review/edit/critique. He got about eleven pages edited.

And that’s where we wrapped for the evening. We’ll be back next week with more noteworthy news, so see you then!

Familiars: Expectation vs. Reality

From a young age, most witches dream of bonding with their familiar. They think about the type of animal it might be, what Difference it might have, what talent it might possess, and how it will become part of their life and their witchery.

Most witches expect a power boost, with a familiar that complements their own Affiliation. However, that is not always the case; in some instances, the familiar can act as a dampener, such as with a Psi witch. A Psi familiar may help shield their witch from the minds of others…and vice-versa.

One thing all familiars do, especially in the early years of bonding, is contain their witch’s fluctuations and surges. Young witches are notoriously bad at control, and a familiar can keep a working from spiraling out and doing extensive damage. One mustn’t conflate shaky control with recklessness, however. Most familiars are forgiving of one and not at all of the other.

There are exceptions, of course; some familiars positively delight in reckless behavior, though this is not the norm. Also, many (if not most) familiars indulge in mischief to various degrees (some more than others; birds, it seems, choose violence most often. Especially the bigger ones. Like emus.). The pranks can involve everything from playing tricks on their witch and their witch’s family and friends to creating tests and obstacles for their witches to casting confounding illusions (not that I would know this from experience).

And that leads me into another expectation that some witches may harbor, especially those that do not come from witch families. A familiar is not a servant to be ordered about, nor is a familiar simply a battery or a booster for a witch. A familiar is a partner, an equal partner, in a witch’s life and witchery. A witch who does not realize and respect this partnership will find their abilities deeply curtailed, perhaps even down to bare mastery of the meta-skills.

A familiar is also not a pet – though not one will object at all to being pampered and indulged! Most familiars are not bothered by the presence of a pet; in fact, they seem to regard pets with the same indulgent fondness that most people do. Just never, ever confuse the pet with the familiar! The consequences can be terrible. A witch might find that every working they do for the next month only produces chartreuse bubbles (again, nothing that I would know from experience, of course).

A witch may expect their familiar to know all about familiaring from the moment of Bonding. While the familiars do know some things on instinct, the bond with their witch is unique. Both parties grow into it, and learn together as well as from each other. Familiars are not infallible (truly, though they might prefer for their witch to believe that they are) and mistakes will be made. While the temptation may be great to blame the familiar for a working gone wrong, do not give in! 

Let me repeat that:  DON’T DO IT.

First of all, if your parents are witches, they will have already been in your shoes, and will know the truth, and you might have to hear an interminable lecture about familiars and when you ask if it’s over, then you’ll end up writing an essay about the lecture (so take notes). 

Secondly – just don’t. It’s not worth it. There will be retaliation (yes, that could be the reason I currently have chartreuse hair, fingernails, toenails, and no matter what color eyeshadow or lipstick I apply, it turns chartreuse. Emmanuel isn’t saying, he just looks smug when he sees me.).

James says:  And our knowledge of Perfect Coven Earth grows yet again. And this is something that will be constant throughout the “Perfect Coven” series, the cozies, and everything else we do in this world of ours. Familiars are so much a part of each witch’s life that they literally cannot be done without. Now Sid has given us some new information and a new perspective to use when we write these animal-not-animal characters.

Mickie says: I love this style of blog – information disseminated about PCE in a clever story form.  Our take on Familiars definitely took a life of its own, especially since we all share space with critters with very interesting personalities.  It was impossible not to incorporate this and make it ‘more’ in our stories.  Some might say we’ve taken the propensity for mischief a bit far, but ‘some’ have never watched a cat lie in wait in a darkened door for a dog to walk by and then goose him with one extended claw. 

5/5/2023 Weekly Update

5/4/2023 → Thursday Skype &  Write: Monthly Meeting

Monthly meeting last night, even though Mickie had gotten off a boat and directly onto a plane to return in time. She made it…but might have fallen asleep a bit during the meeting. Thankfully, she didn’t snore, or we’d have had to record it for, um, reasons.

The first thing we did was discuss the Atlanta Self-Publishing Conference that James attended at the end of April. There was a lot of good information to be had, and James came away quite motivated. And pleased with his new ideas and with the knowledge that there are several things that we are doing well and correctly. We bandied about the idea of attending as a group next year, and that is definitely going to be discussed more in upcoming meetings.

Discussion of the conference led directly into a talk about our 2023 publishing schedule and the updates we’ve had to make, and to some tentative 2024 planning. A series that James has written (non-Perfect Coven related) that Sid loves may well be on the 2024 publishing schedule. (Sid is very excited.)

Leveraging our social media was another hot topic. Mickie is researching and has set up a Graeae Publishing, LLC Instagram account (graeaepubllc, please check us out). We have done a few posts there for Marigold Mayhem, and have begun discussions of what to do for the next publication scheduled for late summer. There are plans. Mickie is also researching TikTok (especially the BookTok portions) and has some other ideas that she’s working on. Yay for having someone on our team that enjoys the socials and knows how to work them!

We then checked on the status of our short stories for the 2023 Perfect Coven anthology, covering myths and legends of PCEarth and discussed a few ideas for some stories. 

After that, Mickie really did fall asleep sitting up, so we ended for the evening. We’ll be back next week doing the writing thing, so tune in for word metrics and status updates! See you then!

Silence is Golden, But Jinxes are Priceless

Here is the very very late November 2022 blog post – a short story once again involving Jarvi’s bevy of great-aunts up to more mischief.

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Shelley Tanzer – water witch, cursebreaker, dancer, and extremely nervous girlfriend – took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. However, she must not have been as quiet as she thought, because Jarvi Huron, her Naiad boyfriend, looked over and grinned. 

“Seriously, it’ll be fine,” he said. She resisted the urge to pinch him, but he was driving. They’d be at his family’s home in another ten minutes and Shelley wondered if she could get away with telling him she’d changed her mind. 

“It’s fine for you,” she muttered. “You’re not on trial here.”

He snorted. “Says you. You just wait. You have no idea how they’ve been hounding me to bring you home.”

Shelley shrugged. She wished her best friend, the bard Jasper Howison, had been able to come as well – he’d really wanted to – but he was in the same uncomfortable position as Jarvi, as his parents and siblings had all but demanded that he bring his called-out-of-time boyfriend, Ian, home for the Imbolc (Spring Sabbat) break. 

Jarvi reached over and patted her knee. “Shelley, they’re going to love you. Cassie is over the moon. She carries that stuffed dog you got her for Yule around and calls it her familiar. She says she’s going to have a dog familiar too, just like Jesse.”

The familiar in question woofed softly from the backseat. Shelley smiled and shook her head. “Cassie is ten. She’s easily impressed. But there’s your mother and father and grandmother….”

“And great-grandmother,” Jarvi interrupted. “Memo-Sarah.”

Shelley shuddered. “And great-grandmother. And uncles and aunts and cousins…and Malivia.” She whispered the last name.

Jarvi shook his head. “You’re really making this into a bigger deal than it is. We’re going to go around, eat a lot of food, my great-aunts will probably have another food fight….”

“Food fight?” Shelley questioned. She perked up. “Your great-aunts got in a food fight?”

Jarvi rolled his eyes. “Well, food fight might be overstating, but there were definitely some airborne rolls. Memo-Sarah and Bartholomew had to step in. I don’t even know what started it this time. Bet they don’t, either.”

“Airborne rolls,” Shelley echoed faintly. “Your great-aunts. Throwing rolls at each other. Even Malivia?”

Jarvi sneaked a look at her from the corner of his eye. Shelley was pretty sure that he thought she didn’t see, but she was far too used to watching out for sneaky Ette snark to miss his expression. She frowned as she was pretty sure he wasn’t taking her nerves seriously enough.

Slowly, Jarvi said, “I know she’s one of your heroes and all, but she’s my great-aunt and trust me, she’s just as bad as her sisters. Also, she can throw equally fast with either hand, so she tends to win those sorts of things. And she doesn’t let them forget it. Ever.”

Shelley sighed. While she knew Jarvi was probably telling the truth (more or less) about his grandmother and her sisters (though she assumed he’d embellished quite a bit for comedic effect), she still couldn’t shake the nerves. It didn’t help that his great-aunt Malivia was also known as Liv Sarra, prima ballerina, and part of a Lover’s Triangle coven with her two partners, Rhys Griffiths and Xerxes Perallis, though both the bard and the Nereid were deceased and Malivia (now retired) lived quietly with her sister, Jarvi’s grandmother, Cassandra. Or, if Jarvi was to be believed, they lived not-so-quietly.

Shelley shuddered. I can’t do this, she thought. She opened her mouth to tell Jarvi so, but he said, “We’re here,” and pulled into the driveway.

From the front view, the house was typical; white, black shutters, two stories, two-car garage, a roomy but not extensive front porch with a few bits of outdoor furniture scattered about. However, the house backed onto a piece of the Saginaw Bay of Lake Huron, Jarvi’s clan waters. The backyard was short, sloping to a tiny dock, but Shelley knew – because Jarvi had told her – that a door in the basement opened into a tunnel leading into the bay itself. All Naiad houses had a water door, if possible, with direct access to their clan waters.

The black front door opened, and a small, dark haired girl ran out, clutching a stuffed Newfoundland that was at least half as big as she was. She waved with her free hand and turned to yell into the house, “Mom! Dad! They’re here!”

A moment later, a woman that looked much like the little girl but with Jarvi’s green eyes appeared in the door, followed by a man with Jarvi’s thick, black hair. They both waved as well.

“They’ve seen you. You can’t run away now,” Jarvi said, proving that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. Shelley reached over and pinched his thigh. 

“Ow! That was mean!” Jarvi exclaimed, rubbing the spot. Shelley gave him the side-eye glare she’d learned from Ette.

“And don’t give me the Ette Look, either,” Jarvi said. “Why are you so uptight? You’ve video chatted with both my parents and Cassie several times.”

“It’s different in person,” Shelley tried to explain, knowing he wouldn’t understand. “I’m staying in your house. With your family. For three days. What if I offend someone or something?”

“We’re not that easily offended in this clan,” Jarvi said easily. “Come on.” He opened the door and stepped out. Shelley let it go but decided that she’d be bringing him along to her home at the next break, so he could understand how it was different than a video call. But she didn’t say anything about her plan, just opened her door and went around to help gather their bags.

***

Shelley made it through the evening, and felt her nerves slipping away as Cassie showed off some of the witchery she’d learned and played with Jesse, who was delighted with the extra attention. Jarvi’s parents were affectionate and laughed a lot, which also helped to put Shelley at ease. The only minor incident occurred when Cassie went to have her bath and get ready for bed; she managed to sneak Jesse into the tub with her and no one noticed until after Cassie was in bed…and Jarvi discovered the wet dog asleep in the middle of his bed. Fortunately, with both Shelley and Jarvi’s mother, Vada, being Water, the dampness was soon cleared and the bed was none the worse for hosting a soggy dog.

The next day was a whirlwind as everyone prepared to go to Jarvi’s grandmother’s house for the big family dinner. Vada had made some sort of delicious-smelling fish chowder, and her mink familiar – Jarvi said his name was Rupert – was vigilantly guarding the pot. Apparently, it was his favorite and he’d been known to sample the chowder until the pot was empty, which is why the entire family took a turn watching while the others got ready. Shelley was amused to see that Cassie had drafted Jesse into helping as well, though he appeared to be as interested in the enticing scent as Rupert.

Finally, everyone was dressed, had gathered coats, bags and other necessities, and packed into the cars. Jarvi and Shelley took Jarvi’s car, and Cassie insisted on riding with them and Jesse. Vada and Xander rode together, with Rupert and the huge pot of chowder. Shelley was amused to see that Vada spent most of the drive turned backward in order to see into the back seat to keep her mink familiar out of the soup.

Shelley didn’t have much to say on the drive over, but thankfully Cassie filled the silence with her chatter. Jarvi patted her knee, but didn’t say anything, instead engaging with Cassie to keep her talking and give Shelley a bit of headspace to prepare herself to meet the rest of his family.

***

They pulled up behind Jarvi’s parents, parking along the street in a long line of relatives’ cars. Jarvi and Xander helped maneuver the pot of chowder around Rupert and out of the back seat, then Xander hefted it to carry inside. The mink dogged his heels, with Vada right behind to make sure he didn’t trip her husband. Jarvi, Cassie, Shelley, and Jesse followed, also watching to make sure the chowder didn’t get spilled. Shelley had been looking forward to trying the dish, and she also hoped to snag a piece of Alexei’s honey cake – she’d developed a love for it after Jarvi brought one to their most recent end-of-Yule-before-classes-start gathering. 

Shelley stepped inside behind Jarvi and Cassie; everyone paused to remove jackets and shoes, then Cassie asked if she could take Jesse to the water room to hang out with the other younger cousins; when Shelley assented, both the little witch and the familiar disappeared into the crowd. Vada took the chowder from Xander and moved deeper into the room, slipping behind a half-wall of glass bricks that seemed to separate the kitchen from the rest of the great room. And it was a great room, Shelley realized; it was just so full of people, familiars, and chatter that it seemed smaller. 

The youngest kids had already gone down to the water room, Cassie proudly showing off Jesse. The rest of the room was crammed with adults in groups of three or four, and it seemed that every one of them was talking at once and waving their arms about, regardless of any drink or snack they might be holding. In one corner, an old woman sat in a rocker with an infant in her arms, a large swan nested in a pile of blankets beside her and a teenaged girl at her feet. “That’s Memo-Sarah and Bartholomew,” Jarvi said. “The baby is my cousin Antony and that’s Melissa. She likes to sit by Memo-Sarah and listen to her stories.”

Jarvi looked around and frowned. At that moment, a girl that Shelley hadn’t noticed before slid her arm through Jarvi’s and grinned at Shelley. “I’m Cecelia,” she announced. “Jarvi’s cousin. I’ve heard a lot about you and I hope you’ve heard a lot about me.” She glared at Jarvi, but the laughter dancing in her eyes belied her ire. “But I bet you haven’t because Jarvi is just terrible at that sort of thing.” Jarvi attempted to shake her loose but she held on. “I think he’s ashamed of us,” she confided, and stuck her tongue out at her cousin. Jarvi retaliated in kind. 

“Oh, so mature,” Cecelia scoffed, as though she hadn’t started it. Shelley had to laugh. “Oh Tethys, you two remind me….”

“Of you and Jasper,”Jarvi interrupted. “This is Cecelia – “

“I just told her that,” Cecelia reminded him. Jarvi shot her a look that Shelley knew he’d picked up from Ette. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Jarvi continued, “-who used to be my best friend and favorite cousin.” 

Cecelia’s mouth dropped open in an over-blown expression of shock and outrage. Her voice rose when she said, “Used to be? Oh, you’ll pay for that!” 

Unfortunately, at least in Shelley’s mind, Cecelia’s remark dropped into an unexpected lull in conversation. Shelley quailed when a couple of heads – including the iridescent swan’s – turned toward them.

She had managed to put Jarvi between her and the rest of the room as she looked around for his famed great-aunts and especially his Great-Aunt Malivia, since she didn’t want to be caught staring, but she didn’t want the entire family focused on them. She straightened her spine and folded her hands to hide the tremors. She looked up, somehow managing to avoid catching anyone’s eyes. She didn’t see anyone that looked like the great aunts he’d described to hilarious effect…well, his descriptions had been hilarious when she wasn’t about to meet them all and face their scrutiny.

“They’re probably all in the kitchen,” Jarvi murmured, proving – again – that he knew exactly what she was thinking. “You want to go get something to drink and scope out the situation?”

No, Shelley thought, I absolutely do not want to “scope out” anything, but Jarvi had grabbed her hand and started moving. Since causing a scene was the second worse thing she feared, Shelley let him tow her into the kitchen with him. Cecelia followed along as well.

The kitchen seemed to seethe as people moved around in an impromptu dance, stirring, slicing, placing items on the already-crowded sideboards, all the while talking non-stop. Jarvi slid around the edges toward a table dedicated to drinks. “That’s Aunt Therese,” he said, nodding at a woman with flaming red hair and a large glass of red wine seated on a bar stool. 

“And her wine,” Cecilia added. “Jarvi, get me a glass with ice, would you? I want the grape soda and it’s not chilled.”

Two other women hovered by the stove, one stirring something in a large pot, the other offering obviously unwanted advice. “Aunt Kattalin and Grammy Cass,” Jarvi said, before pouring cola into two glasses and handing Shelley one, then handing his cousin a glass of grape soda without ice. “No ice, sorry,” he said, though a large bowl of ice sat next to the cups. 

“Really?” Cecilia said. “Seriously. You just did that.”

Shelley stretched her right hand over Cecelia’s glass palm up, fingers pointed at the ice. She made a ‘come on’ motion with her fingers, and a handful of ice came to her call. She moved her hand in time to let the ice drop into Cecelia’s glass. “Thank you,” Cecelia said. She sniffed and gave Jarvi a good side-eye, one that Ette would envy. “Jarvi, you are an absolute cuttlefish.”

He rolled his eyes and took a drink of his soda while watching the two women at the stove. “That’s going to end badly. I predict that whatever is going to happen – trust me, something will happen – and it’ll start there.”

“Oh, definitely,” Cecelia agreed. “What to you think it’ll be this year?”

Shelley sipped her drink. “I still don’t believe your grandmother and great aunts actually got in a food fight.”

Jarvi grinned. “Want to ask them?”

“No!” Shelley said, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she intended. Several heads turned and spotted Jarvi…and her.

“Jarvi!” Several voices shouted his name at once. Jarvi froze with the glass poised at his lips.

Shelley started to say something but Jarvi hissed – so quietly that she wasn’t completely sure she’d heard him – “Wait!”

Jarvi’s grandmother pivoted to her sister, Kattalin, who’d been hovering over her shoulder offering unsolicited and unwanted advice. She pointed at the other woman with her left index and pinky fingers, and shouted, “Jinx!” Kattalin’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing, and Grammy Cass smiled in smug satisfaction. Kattalin crossed her arms and glared, but didn’t move away from the stove. Shelley felt sure she’d missed something but she didn’t want to ask Jarvi what was going on while everyone’s attention was focused on them.

Jarvi finally managed a sip of his drink, then announced, “This is my girlfriend, Shelley. Shelley, these are my great-aunts and my grandmother.” Shelley frowned; she’d heard stories and he’d described them often enough, but shouldn’t he actually tell her their names? She shot him a look, but he just shook his head and took another sip of his drink, probably to hide the grin she observed lurking in the corner of his mouth.

The tall, thin, red-haired aunt got up from her stool and went to refresh her wine. She stopped by Jarvi and Shelley on her way back to her seat, just as another of Jarvi’s aunts joined them, this one a petite, sweet-faced lady with short silver hair and a grandmotherly smile. “I’m Therese,” the redhead said, and she took a gulp of her wine. “I’m sure….”

“I’m Lilian,” the other woman interrupted. The redhead hissed. “Let me talk to the boy, Lilian!”

“Really, Therese? I’m sure he’d want to talk to his favorite aunt first!” The sweet-looking lady, Lilian, retorted. She raised her hand and Therese protectively covered the top of her glass. 

“Favorite?” Therese shouted, along with another voice – Jarvi’s grandmother. The two women spun toward each other, left hands raised, but Therese was just a shade too slow, probably because she was still trying to protect her wine, Shelley thought. Grammy Cass pointed at Therese with her index and pinky fingers, much as she had at Kattalin, and yelled, “Jinx!”

Therese shot Cass a murderous look but said nothing. She made her way back to her stool and sat, cradling her wineglass and glaring at her sisters-in-law.

Shelley cut her eyes at Jarvi who shrugged and took a drink from his glass of soda. Shelley realized she’d been clutching her drink without taking a sip as she watched the drama unfold around her. Honestly, she’d really thought Jarvi exaggerated his great-aunts’ antics for comedic effect. Now she began to wonder if he’d toned it down so as not to frighten her.

“That’s two down,” Jarvi muttered and Cecelia snickered. He grabbed Shelley’s hand and began to pull her from the kitchen before she could ask him what he meant. 

“Where are you going, Jarvi?” Grammy Cass asked. 

“To the living room,” Jarvi replied. “You know Shelley’s a dancer and she wants to meet Malivia.”

“Oh, that can wait a minute, surely,” Jarvi’s grandmother said. “We don’t want Malivia in here just right now.”

Shelley was sure at this point that Jarvi’s aunties were hexing each other, but she had no idea why or how. Though according to Jarvi’s stories, they really didn’t need a why. 

“Oh, really, Cass,” Lilian said. “Don’t be so rude. Let me get Malivia. I’ll just be a minute.” Shelley wondered at the smirk in Lilian’s voice, but again, didn’t think it was the time to ask Jarvi to explain, especially as he was being extremely quiet at the moment.

“Don’t you dare!” Cass said.

Lilian smiled sweetly. “Whatever is wrong, Cass, that you don’t want Malivia in here?”

Grammy Cass hmphed. “Nothing. I just like it quiet when I cook.”

“Well, that’s no reason,” Lilian dismissed Cass’s excuse. “Nowhere in this house is quiet right now. I’m going to get Malivia.” And she began to turn as though to walk out.

Cass raised her hand, still holding a wooden spoon.

“Don’t do it, Cass,” Lilian warned.

“Don’t you go get Malivia,” Cass retorted.

They both advanced toward each other, Grammy Cass brandishing her spoon like a weapon. When they were nearly within arm’s reach of each other, they both yelled, “I said ‘don’t’!”

At that moment, another voice intruded, yelling, “Jinx!”

Shelley turned to see a tall, grey-haired man with blue eyes, a large nose, and a neatly groomed mustache and goatee, pointing at both women with his left hand, index and pinky fingers extended. Beside him stood another man, dark haired, green-eyed, and slightly shorter, holding a large cake. Shelley recognized the famed honey cake and realized that this must be Jarvi’s Uncle Alexei. He looked up at the taller man and smiled. “Thank you, Philip. I’ll just put this down and we can retire to the other room.” Philip shook his head, nodded at Shelley, Jarvi, and Cecelia, and left without another word. Meanwhile, the women glowered, but the kitchen was quiet.

The man smiled at the young people standing there, still clutching mostly-full drinks. “Hello Jarvi, Cecelia.” He winked at Shelley. “You must be Shelley. I’m glad to finally meet you. I’m Jarvi’s Uncle Alexei.”

He looked around the kitchen, nodded once, and bared his teeth at the four women sending scowls his way. “I also like quiet.”

James says:  I want more.  I want a lot more.  I want it now.  Seriously, this is a great view into the family life of one of our central characters. It’s also interesting to see how one of the supernatural “types” interact with one another. Sid has made them very human but also added a touch of otherness to set them apart from other people. Very nice.  I repeat:  I want more. I want a lot more.  I want it now.

Mickie says: I…wait.  Where’s the rest?  I need more of this too.  

I liked the family interaction – very casual, very accurate.  Most of us can relate, both to Jarvi and his “it’s just my fam” attitude, and Shelley’s nerves.  Fun little vignette. Now write more. 🙂

November 2021 Blog Post: Meet Gina Valentine!

Sorry this is late; it has been a difficult couple of months around here.

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One of the things that is the most fun and the most challenging about writing (especially fantasy) is world-building. You build a magic system, you create some characters, and start writing.

But there is more to a world than just the magic. Even though we’re writing in a microcosm – a college campus – the larger world is still out there. We are always striving to add depth and dimension to Perfect Coven Earth, so here is my latest contribution to PCEarth – a look at PCEarth’s pop culture.

GINA VALENTINE

Everyone knows the name. Or if they don’t, they know the voice and the iconic look – the flowing hair (is it blonde? Light brown? Honey colored? Is there a hint of red?), the sharp eyes (brown, blue, green, hazel? Everyone, it seems, sees something a bit different, to the point that there is a rumor that the band of white turquoise on her left wrist (the bracelet that she never removes) is actually a chameleon charm. Or maybe she just likes to change things up. Often).

I’ve read the interviews, watched the documentaries, both of her and her band, Caricature. I’ve even seen her live, several times, in fact. But this is the first time I’ve ever sat down to do an interview with her myself. 

We’re here to talk about the new album, Canvas of Fragility, and the ever-present rumors that swirl around her. And, of course, to see if I can get a definitive answer to the question that has followed her since she first appeared fronting Caricature in New York City, at the height of the Punk movement.

No one at that time thought Caricature would go anywhere, and definitely not that they would outlast the punk bands with whom they shared stages. A female-fronted band? Lyrically dense and heavily melodic in an era where punk, with it’s shredding rhythms and 2-minute song length, was king? A band fronted by a woman so reticent about her origins that to this day no one knows if she’s ortho, witch, or deva? There have even been rumors that she’s something else…something mythical.

She laughs at all the rumors and says her life is an open book, to those that know. And truthfully, she’s never been shy about certain things, foremost her numerous love affairs – probably the thing that people remember even if they don’t know the music. Gina has been linked to other musicians, both ortho and witch, a few prominent politicians, and most recently, the Deva actor, Ronyn Dahla. Her songwriting is her journal, chronicling her life in metaphor, and occasionally, she says with a laugh, with bombast and hyperbole.

“I’ve been depressed,” she says candidly, “even suicidal at times. I tried to drown that darkness in alcohol and drugs. It didn’t work, but I still couldn’t talk about those battles, not for a long time. That is what Canvas is about, you know, finally being able to show that side, that fear, that, well, fragility, I suppose.”  She smiles at the wordplay, laughing at her own cleverness though her eyes are a bit shadowed, as if she fears the darkness might still show itself, even as she claims to have won those battles.

I asked many questions and received many answers during the course of this interview; many have been asked before, but Gina never gives the same answer to anything, no matter how often a particular question is asked. I can’t include every question and answer – some were too personal, some she asked not to be included, and some weren’t really questions, but a flow of conversation which often got us sidetracked from the actual interview. Gina is surprisingly genuine and easy to talk to.

As I said, I’ve been a fan for years, and now I’m an interviewer. I’ve read everything I can, and I did my best to avoid any questions that have been asked too many times before. Even though I, like everyone else, would love to know if she’s ortho, witch, or deva, I avoided asking or trying to trick her into admitting something. I will say that no matter what I asked, even if she declined to answer, Gina was always kind and gracious.

Do you have any hobbies or interests outside of music? 

[I think every interviewer asks this question, just to see what she’ll answer; her answers are always interesting (if not always honest), and have ranged from sewing to brain surgery, so what will she say this time?]

Gina: I think that all artists have to have interests outside their chosen art form or we’d all go mad…or should I say “more mad” as everyone knows anyone in this business is already a bit mad. 

[A surprisingly honest answer, though she’s given a variation of this response before.]

I love the idea of hobbies, but I am terrible at the practice, so I never stick to anything long. After our last tour, I had an extended time at home, so I tried crocheting, as I’d never done it before. My grandmother crocheted, and it always looked so easy in her hands. 

*She laughs.* I discovered that it’s not easy at all! I never could figure out the stitches, so I ended up making a lot of long strings and not much else. My cats enjoyed that one much more than I did, I think. I’ve already got an idea for my next hobby, but you’ll have to do another interview someday to find out what it is!

What inspired you to start playing and making music?

Gina: I don’t actually play. 

[I pointed out at this juncture that while she does not play an instrument in Caricature, she’d said that during her time with the Bard rockstar Julian Dass,she’d learned to play guitar, and oddly enough, the oboe.]  

*She laughs again.* Oh, Julian. Okay, yes, I did learn to play a bit, mostly in self-defense, you know. I will never be fond of the oboe, but I do still enjoy messing about on guitar, especially the one he commissioned for me. It’s what I prefer to use when I’m writing.

As for inspiration to make music, it was the glamor, of course! All those long days on the road while touring, longer nights performing, venue food, and never really getting enough sleep. How could I want any other life?

[I realize that she didn’t actually answer the question, but she refused to elaborate further, saying that she’d given an answer, and that was all she was prepared to do – give one answer to any given question.]

What’s the best piece of advice another musician ever gave you?

Gina: I am not much given to asking for or following advice; if I was, my life would likely be quite different. As I like my life, I’m rather glad that I tend to go my own way. That said, I did get one piece of advice that I’ve never forgotten, and if I haven’t exactly followed it completely, I still consider it my grounding rod. 

We were in New York, just starting out, and we’d scored an opening spot for Razor Epilogue. I was backstage – though we weren’t really allowed to mix with the band – soaking in the ambiance of real rock stars. Ash Silvers came out of the bathroom down the hall and walked by me. I was totally surprised when he stopped to speak to me. 

*She pauses, and I’m sure there’s more to the story than what she’s going to tell me. Then she says:*

You probably don’t remember them; they were rather ahead of your time. But back then, they were the ultimate rock stars, kings of whatever stage they occupied. They should have had more time in the spotlight. Ash should have had more time. 

*She shakes her head, as though to dislodge the sadness I see in her face.* Anyway, Ash Silvers stopped; he was amazing. Sweet, polite – not the man I’d thought from all the stories. We talked – briefly; as I already mentioned, we were encouraged, shall I say, to keep our distance from the real talent – and he told me that he thought I’d go far. And then he said, “No matter what else happens, no matter where else you go, always come back to the music.”

Later, we did become quite good friends. He always claimed to remember that first meeting, but I always had my doubts. 

*She sighs* I wish he’d followed his own advice.

Do you follow a process or ritual before a performance to get rid of nerves or performance anxiety?

Gina: Well, the entire world knows what I used to do, but times have changed, and so have I. Now, I take about a half hour to myself before going onstage, and that’s really all I need.

[I ask what she does in that half hour, but she smiles and asks me what my next question is. I know I’m not going to be able to get any more clarification, and there goes my shot at finding out something that might answer the big question – what is Gina Valentine?]

Who would you be if you weren’t Gina Valentine?

Gina: Oh, I’d still be Gina Valentine! But you mean, if I wasn’t the musician Gina Valentine, don’t you? 

[I nod, though I know she knew exactly what I meant when I asked the question.]

You know, I don’t think I ever considered not being Gina Valentine. I had a plan, I executed it, and here I am. 

But if I didn’t make music, perhaps I’d stick to one of those hobbies I’m forever trying. Perhaps I’d paint, or write books. 

*She shrugs* I’d still be making art of some kind, I think. I don’t think I’m capable of not making art.

[At that point, we were out of time. Gina needed her half hour, and I went to the press box to watch an amazing show with Gina at her ethereal, mysterious best. I enjoyed conducting this interview – and hope, someday, to have another chance to talk to her – but I still don’t have an answer to the question: What is Gina Valentine? I thought one-on-one time might give me an insight, but I don’t even have a guess. Truly, the world may never know. And I wonder, after spending this time with her: do we really need to know?]

James says:  Not only is Gina an interesting character on her own, but it’s exciting to see aspects of our world that we haven’t explored before. Since so many of the stories we’re doing in this fictional world focus on witches, it’s easy for us to develop tunnel-vision and see only those aspects of the world. Sure, that’s an important part of PCEarth but with this entry, Sid has expanded our knowledge and view of the world.

Mickie says: Hm…the story of Gina Valentine. That would be interesting (lol).  Our story is insular -witches and a college campus.  It all revolves there.  But we’ve created a whole wide world, and it’s good to pull that into our stories. It’s also fun to see how someone can still be mysterious and secretive in a world with magic.  

August 2021 Blog Post: A Short Story

The August blog is another short story featuring Jasper and Shelley as children, up to shenanigans, as usual.

Witchery in Blue

“What do you think of this color?” twelve-year-old Shelley Tanzer asked her best friend, Jasper Howison, as she clicked on a square to make it bigger. He squinted at the computer screen, wrinkled his nose, and shook his head.

“I don’t know. Colors don’t always look right on the computer,” he complained. “And you haven’t even decided if you’re painting your entire room, or just a wall, or just the window sills and trims….” he trailed off and shrugged.

“I can’t be a hundred percent sure what to do until I get some idea of the right colors,”  Shelley argued. She clicked another colored square on the home improvement store’s paint color chart.

“There are just too many variations of blue,” Jasper declared. “Why don’t you pick something easier, like gray?”

Shelley pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. She moved the cursor slightly and double clicked. Another page came up, filled with varying shades of gray paint swatches. “Like this?” she asked sweetly. Jasper glared at the computer screen.

“Can we look at furniture instead?” he asked. “At least I know you want natural wood grain there.”

Shelley grinned and relished Jasper’s flinch. “Sure,” she said. “I’m torn though – light wood? Dark wood? Cherry? Oak? Walnut? Should I choose a natural stain, or something with a tint of color?”

Jasper groaned and threw himself across Shelley’s bed. She spun in her desk chair and surveyed him, no sympathy evident on her face. “You were the one that said you wanted to help,” she reminded him.

Jasper grabbed a polka-dotted pink pillow and put it over his face. Shelley thought it clashed horribly with his strawberry blonde hair, and was glad that she’d decided she’d go with darker solid colors for her new comforter and sheet sets. But she’d also decided not to tell Jasper that quite yet.

“I should have known you’d make it complicated,” he muttered. He tossed the pillow aside and sat up, eyes alight. “You know, we could just….” Shelley held up a hand and he stopped talking. She pointed at the far wall, where a muddy discoloration marked a large, irregular spot. 

Jasper sighed. “We don’t talk about that,” he muttered.

“You were going to suggest we work the walls to try different colors,” Shelley said. “And that is what happened when we worked one of my mermaid posters to turn it into a mural, remember? Mother isn’t totally sure that new paint will cover it. Granny might have to come do a cleanse on it.”

Jasper gaped. “She can do that? Why didn’t she do it when it first happened?”

Shelley just rolled her eyes at him. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jasper muttered, eyeing the offending blotch with great venom.

“You need to help me,” Shelley said. “After all, when Daniel goes to college this fall, you’ll be moving into his old room. Surely you’ll need to do some redecorating.”

Jasper pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Not so much,” he admitted. “Daniel will share the room with me when he’s home on breaks, so I can’t change it all that much.”

“Hmph,” Shelley snorted. “Well, it’s not like your instruments leave a lot of room for stuff anyway, but new paint might be nice. Though you probably can’t even see the walls if – hey, is Daniel taking his guitars?”

“Some of them. The rest have to stay, and he said I need to leave them in their hanging racks.” Jasper frowned and shook his head. “And I’m only allowed to play one.”

Shelley grimaced. “That one?”

“Yeah. That one.”

“I still think he over-reacted about that,” Shelley said, as she always did.

Jasper shrugged. “Daniel says it’s never been the same since the snowstorm, and since we conjured it….” He trailed off and shrugged again. There really wasn’t any more to be said, Shelley knew. Daniel would never back down on this topic. Suddenly, Jasper’s eyes brightened. “Hey, do you think Granny would be willing to do a cleanse on the guitar, too?”

Shelley cast a look at the top drawer on her nightstand. “Somehow, I doubt it,” she said. Jasper followed her line of sight, and shuddered.

“I am not going to miss those at  all,” Shelley declared, referring to the contents of the drawer. Jasper got up and wandered over, sliding the drawer open. “Hey, do you have some new ones?” He started to count. Out loud.

Shelley resisted the urge to pull all the water from the air and dump it on her best friend’s head, especially since that trick had gotten her one of the new bottles when she did it to her brother. The second new bottle had come when her mother told her to pull the water out of Kevin’s hair and clothes – and off the floor and out of the sofa – which she did. But then she condensed it into a cloud and set it to follow Kevin and rain on him when he went outdoors.

Shelley stalked over and shut the drawer. “You are supposed to be helping me make decisions, and then Mother is taking us to get the paint. So, help.” Shelley pointed at the computer.

Jasper scrunched up in his face. “I don’t want to. This is boring,” he complained. “All the colors look the same.”

Shelley gaped at him. “Are you whining?”

“No,” Jasper said. Shelley cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “Maybe a little,” he amended. “But really, the computer doesn’t give us a good idea of colors.”

“So? That’s what we have, so that’s what we have to use.”

Jasper turned to face the discolored wall. “You know, you’re going to paint this wall anyway. Plus, Granny’s going to do a cleanse. Why can’t we experiment with color on it? Do you still have that paint set Granny gave you for Yule?”
“Yeah, but it’s acrylic art paints, not wall paint. And it’s really pretty basic colors,” Shelley argued, though her resolve began to waver. The computer really didn’t give the best color definition.

“Basic colors are best. We can mix our own colors with the primaries,” Jasper declared, sounding very sure of himself, though Shelley knew quite well that he had no background in color theory.

“Mmm,” she said, noncommittal, though she was wavering even more. While the workings (and results!) rarely went exactly as planned, their joint workings were some of the best they’d ever accomplished, and they both knew it. While they would most likely evolve into quite powerful witches as they matured, for the moment, their power manifested best when they worked together.

Jasper put his hands on his hips and faced the wall. He pursed his lips as he studied it, fingers already tapping out a rhythm against his thigh. Shelley’s feet itched to start dancing. Then he said, “Doing the whole wall  might have been ambitious.”

Shelley repressed her urge to snark and let him continue. He obliged. “But swatches are quite a bit smaller. I bet we could do some swatches.”

Shelley shrugged. “We could swatch in the sketchbook.”

Jasper shook his head. “Nah, that’s little swatches. We need  bigger swatches and we need to see how it’s going to look on the wall.”

“But the paint set is really small,” Shelley argued. “We’d use all of it trying to make big swatches. And then we wouldn’t have enough left to mix some different colors.” She paused. “Unless…” she eyed her friend. Jasper was grinning. “Exactly. That’s where the working will come in. Now, where are those paints?”

“In the closet,” Shelley said, leading the way. She opened the door and rummaged around in the small cupboard tucked beneath a row of hanging clothes. A few minutes later she emerged with the set of twelve small tubs still in their box. She also held a bag of assorted sponges and brushes. “I found these, too.” She showed Jasper the clear plastic box that contained twelve colored tubes. He wrinkled his nose. “What are those? They look like lipsticks.”

Shelley snorted. “They’re gel sticks. You can color with them or mix them with water and use them like watercolor paints. They blend together really good. You did say something about making our own colors.”

“I did,” Jasper agreed. “Hm. Let me see one.” He reached for the box. Shelley allowed him to take it  and select a blue tube. He uncapped it and rolled out the crayon. She flinched a bit when he leaned over and scribbled an irregular blob onto a section of the wall. He paused and surveyed his work. “Huh. That’s neat. How do they blend?”

Shelley leaned over and chose a green tube. Mimicking Jasper, she unrolled a bit of the crayon and scribbled a neater circle on the wall right next to Jasper’s blue. Then she took her fingers and smeared the colors together, creating a blue-green gradient. “Like that.”

Jasper wrinkled his nose at the color left on her fingers. “Messy. Let’s swatch them all out and then see what we can do.”

“Acrylics too?” Shelley asked.

“Sure. Let’s do it all!” Jasper grabbed another gel crayon while Shelley took a couple of steps and uncapped one of the acrylic paint tubs. “I’m going to swatch over here. I don’t know if we can mix the gel with the acrylic.”

“Good thinking,” Jasper replied. He rubbed the crayon on the wall, humming as he did so. Shelley swayed in time with his humming as she painted neat squares of color on her section of wall.

“I’ve got them all on here,” Jasper said, after a while  . 

“Me, too,” Shelley answered. She looked at her tubs. “I used most of the paint, just like I thought. What should we do about making some new colors?”

“Come look at this,” Jasper said. Shelley stepped closer and looked where he pointed. The colors were spreading, sending out thin rivulets into other colors. 

“Did you put water on those?” Shelley asked. 

Jasper shook his head. “No, look. See? The color is moving sideways into the other colors, not dripping down like it would if we’d put water on it. Are yours doing it, too?”

Shelley returned to her section of wall. “Yeah, it is! Wow. But we haven’t done a working yet. How is this…oh.”

“Oh what?”

“You were humming while we swatched. I bet that started it.”

“Mmm,” Jasper agreed. “And you were swaying in time and doing little tappy steps. That gives me an idea.”

Shelley grinned. “You have your whistle? Because I have an idea, too.”

Jasper matched her grin and pulled the whistle from his pocket. He put it to his lips and began to play the same tune he’d been humming while painting Shelley’s wall. She nodded along, catching the beat, then turned in place to face the wall. 

She put out a hand, fingertips touching an orange square of paint. She stepped – in time with the tune, always following the beat – trailing her fingers from the orange to its complementary color, blue. The paint flowed like liquid, mixing into a new color. Jasper nodded his approval. Shelley paused, still swaying, and put her hand out to touch the red paint. She repeated her dance, trailing her hand into the green. Again, the paint flowed, and a new color was created. Jasper kept playing, Shelley kept choosing colors and dancing, until the wall was covered in swatches. Finally, Jasper dropped the whistle from his lips, and Shelley stopped moving. She sighed, and dropped into her desk chair. 

“So, what do you think?” she asked, gesturing at their work. Jasper bit his lip and didn’t say anything about the colors staining her fingers and hands.

“Hm. I see quite a few interesting possibilities,” Jasper responded. He pocketed his whistle and dropped to the floor beside her chair. “That one,” he pointed at a shimmering blue that looked like water under a bright sun. Shelley cocked her head. “I like that. It looks like the ocean, right when the sun hits the waves. What colors did we use to make that, do you remember?”

And then the flaw in their working hit them both. Jasper lolled his head back to meet his best friend’s eyes. “Whoops.”

“Oh no,” Shelley moaned, dropping her head into her hands before Jasper could stop her. “We have no idea what we combined, do we?”

“Ummmm…Sea-shell?” Jasper poked her ankle. “Shelley. Your hands.”

“What?” Shelley looked up, then registered what he’d said. She glanced down at her paint-smeared fingers. “Oh, crap!”

Jasper didn’t say anything, just stared. Shelley groaned. “How bad is it? Is it all over my face? At least acrylics are water soluble. It’ll wash off. Eventually.”

“Um…Sea-shell? I think you need a mirror.” Jasper’s eyes were wide and wild. Shelley was pretty sure that she did not, in fact, want a mirror, but also knew that she’d probably better look before her mother saw her. She rose to go to her dresser and the large mirror attached to the back.

She expected to see the clear marks of her fingers on her cheeks where she’d touched. What she did not expect to see was that the colors were continuing to flow and combine, just as they had done on the wall. Shelley looked up and yes – just as the paint continued to flow and combine on the wall. 

“If we don’t do something, it’s going to turn into mud,” Shelley said. “And we’ll never be able to figure out a color for the wall.”

Jasper nodded, eyes still wide.  Shelley turned back to the mirror, and realized that the color was flowing into her hair, down her neck, and up her arms. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed Jasper’s wrist. “Get out your whistle, quick! We need to stop this!”  

Jasper’s gaze darted to where her hand touched his wrist. Gasping, Shelley let go and stepped back, but it was too late. The color had flowed from her fingers onto Jasper’s skin, and was expanding. She wasn’t even sure what color it was now. It was just…color. All colors. Swirling like a kaleidoscope.

Jasper brought the whistle to his lips, but the tune just seemed to make the color swirl more and move faster. 

“Stop!” Shelley yelled. Jasper dropped the whistle from his lips. The color on his arms had disappeared under his sleeves. Shelley didn’t mention that; she didn’t want Jasper distracted. “Think,” she said. “What did Granny make us do to fix the hex after the snowstorm? Do it all backwards?”
Jasper nodded, then shook his head, his face pained. “Shell, I don’t think that will work. We spoke the hex, remember? We just played and danced for this one. You  might could dance backward, but I can’t play this tune backward because it didn’t really have a beginning or an end. I was just…playing, making it up as I went.”

Shelley sighed and agreed. “Same for the dance. But we have to figure something out before Mother sees us. Or before the colors bleed onto the other walls.”

Jasper frowned and checked their handiwork. So far, only the one wall was compromised. “Whew. That’s something,” he said.

Then their luck ran out. The door opened and Shelley’s mother stood in the doorway, with Granny peering over her shoulder. “So have you made a decision….” her voice trailed off as she stared at her daughter. 

Granny didn’t bother to smother her laugh. “Oh hottentots, what have you done this time?”

Shelley grimaced. “We were just trying out some colors for the walls,” she explained. Her mother kept staring, eyes tracking from Shelley to the wall to Jasper and back again. Shelley watched her mother and stuttered as she continued. “We did some swatching, then mixed some colors up to see what we could make. We used the paint you gave me for Christmas last year.” Shelley bit her lip and stopped.

Granny shook her head. “Did you sing or dance?”

“Jasper might have whistled some. I did dance a little bit,” Shelley admitted. Jasper nodded in agreement.

Granny turned to look at Shelley’s mother. “It’s not a hex, at least. And the paints were acrylics and watercolors, so they’re washable.” She paused and tapped a finger against her bottom lip. “We might use water to cleanse all this mess, including that,” she indicated the large blob from the mural working, that actually looked less terrible with the new paint swirling over it. Shelley gulped. She hadn’t looked at that part of the wall, just assuming that the new working would not encroach on the old. She’d been wrong, obviously, but Granny didn’t seem worried that the layering would make the old mess harder to clean up.
Granny clapped her hands. Shelley jumped at the sharp sound. 

“First thing is that I need a pretty large clamp-sealed jar with a gasket. We’re going to have to make sure it seals pretty airtight. I only brought smaller hex jars with me, so if you don’t have anything on hand, Audrey, we’ll need to get something.”

“I have a gallon-sized one that I used to keep bath bombs in,” Audrey said. “Would that work? It’s been washed out.”

“That would be perfect,” Granny said. Audrey nodded and went to fetch it.

Granny turned to Shelley and Jasper. She bit her lip and Shelley knew that the paint had progressed. She peeked at Jasper to see that tendrils of swirling color were moving up his neck. She heroically avoided a glance in the mirror; she didn’t want to see.

Audrey returned and handed the large, squarish jar to her mother. Granny took it, nodded, then turned to Jasper and Shelley. “Okay, you two, let’s put this to rights.” 

Shelley’s mother nodded, stepped back, and closed the door, leaving Shelley, Jasper, and Granny in the room facing the compromised wall.

“Now, my girl, do you have any permanent, fast-drying markers or paint pens?”

Shelley nodded. “In the closet, in the art supply cabinet. Let me….”

“No, let me,” Granny interrupted. “We don’t need you spreading the contagion any more than you already have.” She glanced at Jasper and Shelley nodded, conceding the point.

Granny opened the closet and retrieved a set of paint pens from the cabinet. She chose white, black, gray, and blue. She shook them well, and proceeded to mark the sides, top, and bottom of the jar with the white, black, and gray paint. “There,” she said, surveying the sigils she’d drawn. “That should hold it all. Now, hottentots, come here and show me your hands.”

Obediently, Shelley and Jasper both extended their hands, palms up. 

“Other way,” Granny ordered, and they flipped their hands so that their palms faced the floor. Granny took the blue marker and drew signs on the backs of their hands. “Blue for banishing,” she told them. “White, gray, and black for sealing and blocking negative energies. Now, Shelley girl, pull that paint off the wall, and dump it into the sealed jar.”

Shelley nodded, and faced the wall, eyes screwed up as she concentrated. “Not so hard, my girl! We just need you to call the moving paint, not every speck that’s ever been splattered on this wall!”

Shelley nodded, squinted her eyes, and relaxed her mental grip just a bit.

“Little more,” Granny encouraged. “Jasper, get that whistle out and play her song to help her concentrate.”

Jasper obliged, and as always, his music calmed and focused Shelley’s ability to manipulate her Element. She swayed and twirled her fingers as though she was running them through water. She called, and the paint came, a swirling, glimmering stream, straight into the marked jar.

When the wall was clear, Granny clamped the lid shut. When she heard the noise, Shelley opened her eyes and risked a glance at her hands. She sighed, relieved; her hands were clean, except for the blue sigils Granny had drawn, now much faded. 

“This is going to be useful,” Granny said, and Shelley glanced over to see the glass jar filled with swirling paint.

“You can use that?” Jasper asked. 

“Oh, there are many uses for worked paint, my boy,” Granny assured him. “Now, we still need to deal with that.”

Shelley looked and grimaced. They’d cleared the new paint, but the discoloration from the failed mural working still remained. 

Granny patted Shelley’s shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. The original working is weakened both from the new working and the cleanse we just did. All we need now is some sage and salt infused water, and elbow grease.”

Shelley sighed. “I’m glad you’re here to help, Granny.”

Granny quirked an eyebrow. “Me? Help? You two did the working, you two do the cleaning. I’ll be right back.” And she whisked out of the room. 

Jasper eyed the window. Shelley elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t even think it. She knows where you live.”

Granny returned, carrying two buckets – one empty, one full of sage-smelling saltwater – some sponges, and a couple of painting drop cloths. She helped spread out the cloths, then took a seat in Shelley’s desk chair and pointed to the wall. “Elbow grease. Jasper, if you could hum or sing, and Shelley-girl, you need to pull the water and the residue of the old working off the wall and deposit it in the empty bucket. Let’s go, hottentots.”

For the next two hours, Jasper and Shelley scrubbed the wall. Jasper hummed, Shelley shuffled and swayed a bit while she cleared the water and the old working off the wall. It was stubborn, but finally, it came clean. The room smelled of salt and sage, but the effluvium in the now-filled bucket was a gray-green color, like ancient mop-water. Shelley and Jasper both peeked in. 

“Ew. So gross,” Shelley declared. Jasper agreed.

Granny stood. “Dry those sponges out, Shelley. Pull the moisture out until they’re completely dry.”

Jasper whistled and Shelley pulled until the sponges became small and hard.

“Perfect,” Granny declared. “I’ll take them now.” She gathered up the sponges and the bucket. “By the way, Shelley, paint your walls ocean blue. Your affinity is stronger with salt water.”

###

Three weeks later, Shelley and Jasper sat in her newly-redecorated room, chatting about everything and nothing, as they often did.

Jasper surveyed the walls – one painted the blue of the water near the shoreline, the trims and frames the darker blue of deeper waters. Shelley had chosen curtains, sheets, and a duvet in shades of blues and greens to complement the water colors. “I think Granny was right,” he remarked. “This room seems to suit you better now.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Shelley agreed. “I feel much more comfortable in here now. Calmer. Peaceful. Most of the time, anyway.”

Jasper opened the doors of the new nightstand – Shelley had gone with lighter, natural woods that resembled driftwood – and raised an eyebrow. The space was filled with books and pens.

Shelley laughed. “Granny said no more paint for us.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Jasper said. “But what did you do with your hex bottles?”
“Oh, Mother got rid of them for me,” Shelley said, waving her hand. “I don’t miss them.”

Jasper frowned. “That’s not fair. Could she get rid of mine, too?”

“Dunno,” Shelley said. They both turned when they heard a knock on the door. Jasper, being closest, opened it to reveal Shelley’s mother holding a large box.

“This just came for you,” Audrey said, stepping past Jasper to deposit the box on the bed. Shelley bounced up. “A present! Yay!” 

She looked at the address, “Oh! It’s from Granny!”

She grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk and slashed her way into the box. Inside, there were a couple of large, bulky parcels wrapped in paper and bubble wrap, a smaller box, and an envelope on the bottom addressed to both Shelley and Jasper in Granny’s handwriting.

“Hm. It looks like one of these is for you,” Shelley said, handing Jasper one of the large parcels. Together, they tore through the paper and unwound the bubble wrap to reveal two carved shelves. Shelley’s was driftwood, chosen to match her new furniture, carved with waves and sea creatures, while Jasper’s was a medium cherry wood, carved with musical notes and stylized instruments.

“Oh wow! These are beautiful!” Shelley exclaimed. She lifted out the smaller box and opened it to reveal her missing hex bottles, with fresh wax seals, and neat labels showing the date and a summary of the hex contained inside. “What? I don’t want these! I thought you got rid of them!” Shelley turned to face her  mother.

“I did. I just never said it was permanent,” Audrey replied. “Read your grandmother’s letter.” 

Frowning, Shelley opened the letter. Jasper crowded close to read over her shoulder. She read it, then read it again. Beside her, Jasper muttered, “She can’t be serious?”

“She can,” Shelley’s mother affirmed. “Your Uncle Harlow carved these, Shelley, and you’re both to hang them and keep the hex bottles displayed. As your grandmother says, a witch must acknowledge and learn from their mistakes.”

Shelley grimaced, but knew that the shelf and bottles would be displayed in her room, no matter her objection.

“Oh,” Audrey said. “I almost forgot. She left these for you two as well.” Audrey reached into her pocket and came out with two bottles, each one stuffed with a dry, desiccated sponge.

James says:  This is another good look into the lives of some of our characters long before their college years and the formation of the Perfect Coven.  And again, we see Jasper and Shelley getting into trouble by attempting more than they’re actually capable of doing. This time, at least, they’re a bit more able to deal with the consequences of their working. After some of the stories we’ve written about these two, I have one serious question:  Why do their parents let them remain friends?

Note from Sid: I honestly think they’ve determined that it’s safer than the alternative!

Mickie says: Well, I needed this laugh after the month I’ve had. I think we need to have college-aged Shelley and Jasper get up to more trouble than they have so far (not that they didn’t have a couple of doozies already). Who would get caught in the middle?  And who would fix the mess? There’s no way they’ve matured that much by college! This was fun!