Guest Post: The Witch I Knew on Pleasant Home Road, Chapter 1
***Hey guys! Sorry this is up so late, but I promised a guest post and here it is. Please welcome Torin to the blog and enjoy the first chapter of "The Witch I Knew on Pleasant Home Road"!.***********
The Witch I Knew on Pleasant Home Road
By all personal accounts, and by my own standards, I live a pretty mundane
life. I, like everyone, enjoy the exciting excursion now and then. A friend recently
told me I lead a “unique life”. In that regard I suppose its just in the colour paint we
use on the canvas that is our life that makes it “unique” to some and “mundane” to
others. To myself my particular painting is, perhaps, dull? To others it seems
vibrant.
*writer’s note: at this point I had originally droned on for about a paragraph about
the differences in colour and the particular ‘swatches’ we use for our individual
paintings (yes, I used that word) but I felt it wouldn’t be prominent to this particular
post so I’ll just continue *shrugs violently**
In my attempt to share my ‘vibrant’ life with whoever reads this, I’ll be
writing about something that happened recently. I’m leaving everyone mentioned in
this story unnamed renaming all my friends after their pets so as not only to keep
peoples privacy, but also to add an air of mystery and fun to the story because,
without which, the story would seem to prattle on and it wouldn’t give you all a
chance to make up names and imagine things for yourselves, which I like.
MELANCHOLY MEETING
It was a pleasant April afternoon, about a month before the 26 th celebration
of my birthday, just before I got my shift as a bartender that a young woman, dark of
hair, light of step, a jovial smile, inquisitive eyes, of average build and height by my
standards (below average height by hers I later learned) came up to me and said,
without hesitation (which, I later learned, was very against her normal MO) “I like
your tattoos! Do you go the renaissance faire by any chance?” or something to that
direct effect. (she, in this story, will be referred to henceforth as Lilith, her cat: A
beautiful black cat with eyes as inquisitive as hers) Being cordial, as I always aim to
be to the people who compliment my ink, I said, “Yes, I do actually, and thank you!”
Making polite conversation I further remarked, smiling, “I’m actually going this
weekend!”
*writer’s note: I am quite proud of my ink and I receive a LOT of compliments on
them, which I heartily accept, but usually the compliments come hand in hand with
a less than subtle attempt (by guys or girls, neither to which I discriminate) to pick
me up.
The conversation continued a bit and I found that the weekend I was
planning on going was in fact her birthday weekend so I mentioned that she should
“totally meet and my friends there!” to which she responded with giving me her
number. Later that afternoon I got a message from her confirming I would be at the
faire and I responded affirmatively.
*writer’s note: I abhor when people, doesn’t matter your status in my life, (family or
friend, romantic partner or one-night- stand) are wishy-washy about spending time
with me or making plans in general if you refuse to arrange a solid time to meet or
drink, talk on the phone even or hang out, or are always saying things like “yeah I’ll
let you know” and you never let them know? I’ll wishy-wash my hands of you. If you
don’t have time for me, I don’t have time for you… Second thought: I’m always a
sucker and I always forgive people for doing things like that apparently.
Needless to say I was taken aback by this woman; being so open to making
solid plans? Unheard of other than in a small circle of my close friends. I passed it
out of my mind because I reminded myself that it’s not what people say or what they
say they’ll do that matters but what they actually do. So I waited til the day of.
The Witch I Knew on Pleasant Home Road
By all personal accounts, and by my own standards, I live a pretty mundane
life. I, like everyone, enjoy the exciting excursion now and then. A friend recently
told me I lead a “unique life”. In that regard I suppose its just in the colour paint we
use on the canvas that is our life that makes it “unique” to some and “mundane” to
others. To myself my particular painting is, perhaps, dull? To others it seems
vibrant.
*writer’s note: at this point I had originally droned on for about a paragraph about
the differences in colour and the particular ‘swatches’ we use for our individual
paintings (yes, I used that word) but I felt it wouldn’t be prominent to this particular
post so I’ll just continue *shrugs violently**
In my attempt to share my ‘vibrant’ life with whoever reads this, I’ll be
writing about something that happened recently. I’m leaving everyone mentioned in
this story unnamed renaming all my friends after their pets so as not only to keep
peoples privacy, but also to add an air of mystery and fun to the story because,
without which, the story would seem to prattle on and it wouldn’t give you all a
chance to make up names and imagine things for yourselves, which I like.
MELANCHOLY MEETING
It was a pleasant April afternoon, about a month before the 26 th celebration
of my birthday, just before I got my shift as a bartender that a young woman, dark of
hair, light of step, a jovial smile, inquisitive eyes, of average build and height by my
standards (below average height by hers I later learned) came up to me and said,
without hesitation (which, I later learned, was very against her normal MO) “I like
your tattoos! Do you go the renaissance faire by any chance?” or something to that
direct effect. (she, in this story, will be referred to henceforth as Lilith, her cat: A
beautiful black cat with eyes as inquisitive as hers) Being cordial, as I always aim to
be to the people who compliment my ink, I said, “Yes, I do actually, and thank you!”
Making polite conversation I further remarked, smiling, “I’m actually going this
weekend!”
*writer’s note: I am quite proud of my ink and I receive a LOT of compliments on
them, which I heartily accept, but usually the compliments come hand in hand with
a less than subtle attempt (by guys or girls, neither to which I discriminate) to pick
me up.
The conversation continued a bit and I found that the weekend I was
planning on going was in fact her birthday weekend so I mentioned that she should
“totally meet and my friends there!” to which she responded with giving me her
number. Later that afternoon I got a message from her confirming I would be at the
faire and I responded affirmatively.
*writer’s note: I abhor when people, doesn’t matter your status in my life, (family or
friend, romantic partner or one-night- stand) are wishy-washy about spending time
with me or making plans in general if you refuse to arrange a solid time to meet or
drink, talk on the phone even or hang out, or are always saying things like “yeah I’ll
let you know” and you never let them know? I’ll wishy-wash my hands of you. If you
don’t have time for me, I don’t have time for you… Second thought: I’m always a
sucker and I always forgive people for doing things like that apparently.
Needless to say I was taken aback by this woman; being so open to making
solid plans? Unheard of other than in a small circle of my close friends. I passed it
out of my mind because I reminded myself that it’s not what people say or what they
say they’ll do that matters but what they actually do. So I waited til the day of.
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