By the time the smoke started to clear, he was almost fully visible in the shadows. "Great, another Witch," he muttered. Looking down, he was surprised to find himself fully dressed. "A novice," he added.
He turned to seek out and chastise the wench who had conjured him up this time, but he was alone. Candles cast a soft glow on the attic room, illuminating strange shapes on the slanted walls. Led Zeppelin played quietly from a CD player on the dresser. Nice touch, he thought. How many times had he arrived to Morrison crooning ‘Light my Fire’? It was a cozy little attic. A twin bed covered in an old patchwork quilt, a worn overstuffed chair, a dresser and a sea chest completed the scene. Where was the black cat? No black cat? This was a strange Witch!
Taking a deep sniff of the air, he recognized the aroma. No patchouli, she was full of surprises, but where is the bacon?, he wondered. Ah, in the small silver bowl. Her cauldron? It was still warm, a little candle burning beneath the pot kept it heated. He reached in his long finger and snagged a piece. He popped it in his mouth and chewed happily. He was beginning to like this Witch.
Where the heck was she anyway? Well he was sure she would slink in soon enough. He grabbed several more pieces of bacon and then hopped on the mattress, ready to stretch out his long form and enjoy the music. He sat up in surprise as a muffled sound came from under the bed. Dropping to the floor, he cocked his head and looked to see what had made the noise.
Two large pools of green peered back at him from the dark. Red hair framed the pale face. An Irish Witch, he mused. "I’ve never found a Witch waiting for me UNDER the bed before," he said, a hint of laughter in his velvety voice.
"I ah, I panicked when you started to appear," she said in barely a whisper. "I didn’t expect it to really work."
"It always works," he sighed. "Even if you just read it right out of the book."
"You mean someone has done this to you before?" she asked, incredulous.
"You must be kidding," he smirked. "I can’t tell you how many Halloween’s I have ended up in some Witch’s bedroom."
Her brows shot up. "Oh." Her face betrayed her anxiety as she considered the misfortune of constantly being summoned at a Witch’s whim. "Are you mad?"
He laughed at the genuine concern in her voice. "Well, the bacon placated me a bit. Are you coming out from under there?, I’m getting a cramp in my neck." He sat down by the silver pot and picked out another strip of meat.
Carefully she eased her way out from under the bed and sat in front of him. She crossed her legs Indian style and leaned back against the bed. When the song ended he opened his eyes and took a long look at her. "Nice ring," he said, smiling at her bare toes.
Slowly she poked her head out and watched him eat. I can’t believe he’s really here!, she thought. As Stairway to Heaven began to play he leaned back, crossed his ankles and closed his eyes. He was barefoot. She gazed at his feet and smiled, such a silly thing to find endearing. When he started to move his lips she caught her breath and held it, listening to him sing along with the song. Her mind whirled with the impossibility of his presence. I’ve actually used witchcraft to conjure up a movie star! I’m probably going to hell for this, she thought, but she didn’t care at that moment. He was right there, flesh and blood, and he was just so…..cool!
She smiled back, "Thanks!"
"So, my little Gypsy Witch, what can I do for you?" He raised one brow, daring her to suggest something tawdry.
"I’m not really a Witch," she said.
"Oh but you are a Witch, I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t," he argued. He was clearly amused at her dismay.
"No really, I just found this old book in my Nana’s things. I’m not a Witch!" "Can I see the book?" he asked.
"Sure."
She got up and padded across the hardwood floor. An antique trunk sat at the end of the bed, on top rested the tomb of spells. Picking it up, she gingerly handed it to him. He turned it over, "The Book of Shadows," he read aloud.
Suddenly he snapped the book shut, then set it beside him and dropped his head to the side, gazing at her like an owl. "Your Nana was a Witch, and you are the next in line. It skips a generation sometimes you know."
She sat back down and waited to see what he would do next. He flipped through the pages and recited a spell here and there, glancing up now and then to see her reaction. His voice re-modulated with each spell, changing to suit the particular incantation. She found herself giggling in spite of her intimidation. "How do you know so much about Witches?" she asked. She was perplexed that he would possess such knowledge.
"I’ve done a little research and made a few personal observations over the years," he shrugged. "You know, not all Witches are so inexperienced, one does have to know how to protect themselves."
"What do you mean?" she asked, leaning slightly forward.
"Let’s just say I don’t always arrive with clothing on," he replied.
She reared back and wrinkled her nose, "You’re joking!"
"No. I’m not," he shook his head slightly.
"I’m sorry. Honestly I never expected to bring you here. I was just playing with the book and well it was kind of a fantasy, and it seemed like harmless fun." She dropped her gaze, embarrassed.
"Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind hanging out with you for a few hours." He picked up the last bits of bacon and stuck them in his mouth. "Got any more?"
"No, but I can make you a sandwich or something," she offered.
"Naw, I’m not really hungry, I just like bacon," he grinned.
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms under. This was incredible. The man she had always wanted to meet, to be able to converse with, was sitting less then two feet away from her. But she couldn’t think of a single interesting thing to say, she could barely keep from openly staring. What a dolt I am! "Is this your room?" he asked.
"It used to be a long time ago, when I was little and visited my Nana. She died last week and my parents asked me to come pick out the things I wanted to keep before the house is sold." She looked around the room, obviously sad to say goodbye. "I was watching one of your movies when I decided to spend one last night up here. I found the book while I was going through the trunk and I guess my imagination got away from me."
"I’m sorry to hear about your Nana," he said.
"Thanks."
Suddenly he got to his feet. "You want to go for a walk?"
"Sure, that sounds great," she took his outstretched hand and led the way down the stairs. The moon was full, and the black night sky littered with gleaming diamonds. He pointed out the various constellations, sharing his knowledge of astronomy and an occasional myth. She was impressed at how much he knew about the heavenly bodies. They strolled down the neighborhood lost in conversation, glowing pumpkins grinned back at them as they passed. The Trick or Treaters were all long since tucked into bed.
When they finally returned to the house, the porch offered a perfect view of the stars. They sat in the swing and huddled under an afghan to keep warm. "You know I’ve always wanted to ask you a million questions, and now, I can’t think of anything important."
"Like what?" he put his arm around her, allowing her to rested her head on his shoulder.
"Oh you know, things like, what is the meaning of life?" she sighed softly.
"What makes you think I know the answer to questions like that?" he chuckled.
"I don’t know. You’ve just been to all the places I want to go, seen all the things I want to see, loved the things I love. Somewhere in all those journeys I imagine the cosmos has whispered the answers to you on the breeze."
"Maybe, but how do you know that those are the same answers that will be whispered to you, or anyone else? There isn’t only one truth, one answer to all the questions."
"I’m sure you’re right." She smelled his cologne and couldn’t concentrate for a moment. "But I want to hear your truth, and know your answers. You inspire me." she snuggled deeper into the blanket, thankful for his warmth. "What inspires you?"
"My children, nature, family, and friends. Meeting people who live close to the land."
"We all have to seek out those experiences that enrich our lives, that speak to our soul and allow us to find our higher selves," he said.
"I envy you the chance to meet the people you do, the freedom to travel to far off places, to escape the civilized world and to seek the wild. What adventures you must have," she yawned against her hand, unable to stifle it. She was falling asleep, he was sitting here talking to her in his soothing dulcet tones, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open! "I’m still searching for a place like that," she murmured. Her breathing slowed as she drifted off to sleep.
"You’ll find it," he whispered. "Fare thee well my little Gypsy Witch." He gently kissed her forehead before he faded away.
When the sun broke through the window, she sat up in the bed and looked around. Oh what a dream!
The room had lost it’s magic in the light of day. There on the foot of the bed was The Book of Shadows. The candles had all burned out, the CD player had shut itself off and the room smelled of bacon grease. But the memory of his presence was vivid in her mind. It was so real!, she thought. She wrapped the afghan around her shoulders and swung her legs off the bed.
It was time to clean up and gather the things she would take home with her. She put the book back in the trunk, she was taking it. She slid Led Zeppelin into the jewel case and tossed it in her bag.
Just a dream, he wasn’t really here, she sighed.
That was about it. Then she remembered the cauldron. She leaned over and reached for the little silver pot. Her hand stopped in mid air. It was empty.
The End
