Witches are Bitches

What fun you'll have with us.

There goes one

There goes two

Is that your owl that goes “who”?

It gives you away

That hole is where you'll lay.

Let's play enough for this zoo too.

There goes three

There goes four

Now we're really playing up the score,

Jump up high,

Touch the sky,

And scatter thithermore.

There goes five

There goes six

Now this is a sticky fix.

Are you mad?

Are you glad?

We've outmatched your every pretext.

There goes seven

There goes eight

It's not fair to use live bait.

Will you stop?

Will you remember Hollyhock?

If not it will be too late!

There goes nine

And there goes ten…

Witches are Bitches,

let's go hunting again!

As ugly and disgusting as I am, you will not believe my story.

I am below the filth of the fields and am worthy of nothing. That is how I grew up. My bone structure and skin wasn’t appealing and my rags made other rags wilt in shame. I knew little of human interaction; just enough to sell the hair on my head for the penny that would feed me.

I traveled daily so that wouldn’t bother the normal, good people around me. Initially I was ignored, but apparently my face was so ugly it drew just enough attention to have me removed from town by force. I wish I knew what it looked like.

One day I sat below a tree to rest my aching feet and an old man joined me. I was more than a little startled when I realized he was trying to talk to me. The man had wispy white hair and his beard was like a cloud hovering below his nose. I noticed his dark and wrinkled skin and realized he must be a hard worker. Only hard workers had dark skin from the sun. I couldn’t be a hard worker.

“Where might you be going?” he asked. He was smiling, at me. I’ve never known anyone to do that before.

I shrugged. In reality I just followed the road to the next town and then the next one after that. Then I turned around and went back the way I came. The cycle always seemed to work for me. At the time, I didn’t know how to explain this to a stranger.

“Mmm,” he mused, still staring at me with that really nice smile. “do you like games?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked games since I’d never played one before. I loved watching children play in the streets and watching the older men play cards and stones were interesting enough.

“I-“ I said and had to clear my throat. He was old and I wasn’t sure if he would be able to hear my voice. “I don’t have a ball…or cards…or stones-“

The man laughed, “No, no, young lady! Not those kinds of games-“

I didn’t catch what he said next because my ears were ringing with the words, ‘young lady’. Everyone just called me a ‘hag’. It was true that I wasn’t really that old, but no one ever saw me as young. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks and I really didn’t know how to respond.

“-so what do you think?” He asked.

“Um, sure,” I said. I hadn’t been listening, it’s all my fault. Before I could ask what game we were going to play he lifted one hand and snapped his fingers.

A moment later I sat blinking the shadows from my eyes. There had been a white light and for a moment I couldn’t see. I could feel that there was no longer grass beneath me, but cold stone. I dared not move. I had been in jail once for disturbing the beauty of the rich side of town. It had not been pleasant. Still, to be so kind and then put me into prison, well, that seemed like something that should be normal for me. So while my eyes adjusted I sat still and silent; it’s better to not draw anyone's attention.

As my eyes adjusted to the new light and I noticed at once that I wasn’t in a cell. I felt kind of stupid since it hadn’t smelled like one, but I had to see it to make sure. It was a singular room with a table, a bed, a wardrobe, and a small fireplace. On the table was a plate, utensils, and a goblet made of gold. The bed was big enough for two people.

Turning in a circle I realized that there was no door, only a single window. I stumbled to the window and, looking down at myself, realized I was wearing a large dress…silk, with LAYERS! And LACE! I was so stunned that I forgot about the window. I instead stumbled to the wardrobe and threw it open. It was full of rich and beautiful dresses.

I couldn’t find my rags anywhere.

Making my way through the silk to the window again I threw open the shutters and let out an, “EEP!” as I looked at a sea of clouds. I couldn’t see the ground at all. My vision spun and thought I would vomit. Somehow I was able to back away from the deadly drop and tripped over the hem of the useless dress.

It took me a moment to notice I was crying. I didn’t know what to do or what was expected of me. This was all very unfamiliar and, though it was just me and myself, I was humiliated. I didn’t know how I got here, or in a dress I didn’t know how to manage!

After I calmed down a bit, I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what i should do.

I won’t bore you with day by day details. I panicked and had fits for the first little while, then when hunger won me over, I figured out how to get food. It was strange since magic wasn’t something that was common- or even welcomed- in most countries. I had to ask the plate and goblet for what I wanted to eat and drink. At first I asked for what I’d always eaten, bread, water, and sometimes hard cheese. But then I thought that maybe I could ask for some meat and fruit and, forgive my reaching, but I asked for sweets. I’d never eaten so well in my life! I started to fill out and, magically, the dresses would resize themselves to fit my new form.

The dresses were something else I had to figure out. It took longer than I’d like to admit to take off the dress I had started in. And It took longer to learn to put one on. It was a good thing I was alone and could take my time in my shiff to work it out.

The fireplace was also magic, where it lit when it got cold and doused itself when it was too hot. I could open the window with the broom I found under the bed, but when it was open, I stayed on the other side of the room. I also used the broom to close the window.

Days melted together, and the only evidence I had that time passed was my hair, which grew to an impossible length. It had been irritating at first, but I soon got used to it and liked playing with it.

Then he happened to climb into my room.

With a grappling hook.

He stumbled in, heaving after what I was sure must have been a long and hard climb. He wore leather armor and his dark hair blew about in the wind coming in from behind him. I honestly was too stunned to speak. I had been sitting at the table enjoying some tea and cookies. When it finally occurred to me that I should be panicking he spoke.

“Princess,” he still sounded a little winded, “I’ve come to get you-”

What?

“-I am Prince Quin Hue Grimmton-“

Wait wait wait!!

“-I was met by an old man that said you needed rescuing-“

“WAIT!” I winced at my own raised voice and pressed a hand to my mouth. I stared at my feet. It was getting really hard to breathe. “I-i-i…I’m not…not a p-p-p-princess…”

“What?” He looked confused. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak again.

We stood, well he stood, I sat, in silence while we each came to terms with each other’s company. After a while he let out a heavy sigh and plopped himself on the floor. He even laughed a little bit.

“Sorry,” he said, “I knew it was too good an opportunity to be true.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, why was he apologizing?! No one had ever apologised to me! I stared at my plate full of cookies and decided to offer him some.

“What’s this?” he asked as I brought over the cookies to him, trying extra hard not to trip.

“Cookies,” I muttered, my head still as low as i could make it, now second guessing myself, “Th-they always make me feel better…”

By the heavens what was I saying?! He was a prince! I was scum! How could I even admit I’d eaten them let alone offer him some!

As I stressed I heard him laugh. It was a lovely sound, but it still didn’t fix my dilemma.

“I would love a cookie,” he said, “And if I could ask for some water?”

“Um,” I set the cookies down and walked to the table, so flustered that I forgot to watch my step and fell flat on my face.

“Are you ok?” He rushed over and helped me up. He lifted my face to look at my head and i finally got a good look at the man in front of me.

He was tan, his eyes were a shade of blue i wasn’t familiar with, his nose had been broken - i’d say more than once - but it didn’t take away from the beauty or strength of his bone structure. My vision spun and if there ever was a time in my life I felt more like a cockroach, I couldn’t remember. Forcing my head down again I saw the cookies.

“Oh,” my heart sank and i began to tremble, “I put it on the floor. I can’t believe I put it on the floor….”

“That’s not the point,” he said, leading me to the chair at the table. “That was quite the fall.”

“Oh, oh, that was n-n-nothing…”

i could feel his eyes on me and I wanted to cry again. I was never a “crier” before. I took my knocks and I was grateful they weren’t worse. But for some reason I couldn’t take this level of stress.

"Do you want to be a princess?"

The question came out of nowhere.

"Eh?" Came my intelligent reply.

"Forgive my selfishness, but I need a wife," he said .. and he got down on the floor and locked eyes with mine. "If not, a betrothed. We need not get married so long as I can hold off the joining of my country with the other. I need to settle the major problems with the treaty. You see, if my country rushes into this…I feel as if there's something we've overlooked. My intuition is rarely wrong, but I need time. Will you give me that time?"

“Ah…” I was on a role. He took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. As he led me to the window I instinctively I dug my heels in. I wasn’t going anywhere near that window!

“Do you not want to?” he asked. I shook my head.

“T-t-t-to high,” I squeaked. He laughed again.

“How about this,” he said bending slightly to be eye level to me. “If I can get you out of this tower without you being afraid, will you come and be my fake bride?”

I was so confused, but he spoke with such confidence and authority I nodded without much thought.

He beckoned me toward the window and I made sure I was looking straight and up, not down. He grabbed my arms, not hard, but it still made me jump. He wrapped my arms around his neck so that my hands clasped in front of his throat. Then he bent forward and lifted my legs up to rest on his hips and I was clinging to his back.

"Don't be so stiff," he said turning his head to the side a bit. "Hook your ankles in front because I'll need both hands to climb down. Also, don't hold on so tight around my neck, or you'll choke me."

Right…it’s not good to choke the man that's the only thing connecting you to a flimsy rope! What was I doing?! I was touching a prince! I was going to be beheaded! Did i want to fall or be beheaded?

"Close your eyes," he said and I didn't need any urging. I could tell he was climbing out the window and my heart jumped into my throat as in my mind I saw the long drop down. Beheading was looking better every second.

"Keep your eyes closed," he said; before I was able to tell him that it wasn't working he added. "So, what's your name?"

"Huh? Oh, ummm, i-it’s, ah," I had to think for a moment. I only remembered my name on principal since no one had ever asked it of me before. "I-its Sabilla."

"You can call me Quin," he was panting slightly. "Prince of the Kingdom of Halron. Second in line to the throne."

Only second? Then why was he part of the treaty? This was not like the stories I'd hear from the the performers.

"My older brother is already betrothed," he continued, answering my unasked question, "I'm actually a military man myself, being the second son, but I was forced home in order for this treaty to be made."

"You don't trust your enemy," I mumbled starting to get the gist. I didn't know much about politics, but I knew that when one person has been fighting another for a while, then it's natural for them to mistrust each other.

"No, I do not," he said quietly, "We've been fighting for too long and are too different for them to suddenly decide to draw up a treaty. Things like this take time; it's just too soon."

He was seriously uneasy about it. I guess if he was desperate enough to try to get me to pretend to be his wife, whatever that meant, then he must really be in a bigger fix than I had ever been. I also didn't know much about the military or wars, but I'd been in a few fistfights. So I could see why the guy you had been beating up suddenly wanting to be friends would be a bit awkward.

"We’re here," He said suddenly interrupting my thoughts. My eyes snapped open to find that I was on solid earth once more.

"So," he set me down, "how did I do Princess?"

He had distracted me with chatter to keep me from thinking about the drop. That was very clever. I quickly stored that information in case it needed to be used again.

”So, Princess Sabilla," he said bowing and holding out his hand. "May I escort you to your new home?"

I blinked a few times and wondered what in the name of the seven angels I'd just gotten myself into. I couldn't pretend to be civil. There was just no way. I was a street urchin at best. Lower than that even!

"A-are you sure?" I asked, my eyes fixed on my feet. I had left the slippers in the tower. He straightened up and lifted my head. He was smiling at me.

"If I wasn't sure I would not have bothered to take you out of the tower," he replied, his hand still out for me to take.

I took a deep breath and took it.

A week of torment

fired again

More applications...

My spine to bend

My sisters kid

so small and round,

With smile so bright,

and sweet words sound.

"Book" she says.

"Story," she begs.

Only brings me chapter books.

Silly child with her stubby legs.

"Badabadbda," she reads.

Upset when I try to take over.

I smile as she gasps with wonder,

at the only colorful cover.

A reminder of joy.

Of things I love.

bundled in little child,

who says, "Aunei Lala, gubmmiove."

I still don't know what that means.

but to her "look" means "what".

She has my number,

as she points out every cut.

"Ooowwei," she says

eager to receive kisses.

"Tant you," she says,

and I melt all to pieces.

I turn to leave,

wondering if she'll cry.

"Byebye," she waves

unaware of how much I try.

My heart lighter

my joy full

when a Child is serious,

I can feel less dull.

Clammy Palms

A Shiver And A Shake

Anyway

Step Out Now

Risk Your Body Or Your Soul

Then Question

No one believes me when I tell them I am intimately familiar with VHS and Cassettes. They look at me with disbelieving eyes when I tell them I was allowed to walk 2 miles to the lake when I was a child so long as I had my chores done properly; checked- with bias- by my older siblings.

I was bullied horrifically for wearing hand-me-downs from my older sisters. Do you all remember "crazy pants"? I do, because I wore them when all my other pants were dirty.

I know more about my older siblings time than mine, the 90s.

(AN: Tell me if you want it continued!)

It was your standard murder. When you lived in a big city, emotions run high and one spouse or other tends to be the victim.

The wife, a young woman with a swollen eye, sat sobbing on the couch as the police tried to get her statement. The knife she used was on the floor where she’d dropped it. The bloody phone she’d used to call them was on the counter.

It was clearly self defense. I mean, I hated cases like this. The husband’s family would most likely press charges regardless and cause this poor woman more problems.

“Detective Batte.”

I turned to see my precinct commander walk into the apartment. He didn’t normally leave the office.

“Yes sir?”

"Everything in order here?"

"As much as possible, Sir," I groused, not bothering to hide my attitude or my breath. Rather liking the way the prude winced. The idiot took me off the major case that happened just last night.

A mass killing took place, right out in the open. Not even with a modern weapon either, which meant the killer had time to kill plenty of people AND none of the city's high tech gadgets caught anything.

And the boss took me off the case and put me on this...baby-walking junior dudy.

“This is Tim,” the commander put a hand on the shoulder of a child. Just noticing him there I stared.

“Umm, Sir? What is a nine year old doing at a crime scene?”

The child turned from the commander to me. He twisted his fingers together as he spoke, “I…I’m here for…for your protection…sir.”

I had no response for that. I instead turned to the Prude for a more complete explanation.

“Tim will be your partner on this,” he said, “I expect you both to remain within sight and sound of each other. I will not tolerate sloppy work.”

He left after that. Just turned and left as if this was normal?

“HELL NO!” I stumbled after him. I have have hitthe bottle before ten o'clock, but this was not happening on my watch, “This is an open and shut case! I mean, I don’t understand what I would need…protection…from a kid, for!”

The commander didn’t turn around and kept going. I think he even quickened his pace in order to get away.

The other cops in the room were staring and when I met their eyes, they went back to gathering evidence and documenting the scene. My eyes drifted back to the kid who was standing next to the body, his hands working over time as he tugged at each of his fingers. He was waiting for me.

“What are you protecting me from?” I asked when I walked up to him, “the wife?”

I jabbed a thumb in her direction. She was still shaking and wouldn’t be standing any time soon. The boy licked his lips and eyed the woman as if he was genuinely afraid of her.

He couldn’t be serious.

“I..I’m here because…because of…” he lowered his voice and I had to lean forward to hear, “…demons…”

“Demons?”

“Yes.”

“…for real?”

The boy nodded his eyes darting everywhere. I followed his gaze and noticed he was taking notice of every movement around him; from the moving officers to the curtain that moved above the air vent across the room.

This child was a nervous wreck.

What was he doing at a crime scene?! This poor kid was standing next to a body with at least five unnatural holes in it! This kid couldn’t protect himself let alone someone else! But the commander had put him here, so…

“don’t touch anything,” I said placing a hand on his shoulder. I hoped to give the kid some form of reassurance, “we’ll wrap up as fast as possible.”

The struggle had started in the front room and had ended in the kitchen. I made notes and immersed myself in what the room was telling me happened. He had staggered, lost his grip on the chair and she’d run into the kitchen where the knives were. He rushed her, probably thinking she’d never actually stab him. At one time he’d grabbed the blade of the knife and she’d drawn it back. Two of his fingers were poking out from under the counter.

I pointed them out to an officer so he’d grab them.

“Um..!” the kid caught my attention as he raised his hand, like he was in school or something. Wait…he was still in school.

“what is it?” I asked.

“W-well,” he bit his lip and began to gesture with his hands, “you know…”

“Do you need the bathroom?”

He blushed and shook his head vehemently, his hands now shaking as they wrung themselves. He was having the hardest time getting out what he needed to say.

I turned back to the kitchen. I’d been staring at it for almost two hours…what was I supposed to notice? There was blood everywhere and…was it the pill bottles? They had already looked at them. One was hers for depression and the other was prescription ibuprofen. The wife had already told them that her husband never took her meds.

Other than the blood spatter, there was nothing I could see that would cause this kind of reaction.

“Up…” the boy finally got out, “up!”

He pointed to the ceiling. There was blood spatter on the ceiling, and a cobweb in one corner.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

The boy looked like he might start crying. He waved his hands at me, trying to motion me to stand next to him. I refrained from rolling my eyes and walked over. Looking at the ceiling now that I was standing under the archway leading to the kitchen I could actually see something. It glistened as the light bounced off of it, the blood spatter going right through the center of it.

“What the…” I squinted, trying to get a better look. Was it oil?

“See?” he asked, a small, almost twitchy smile appearing on his face, “it…it’s a…a summoning circle. Butitsasmallone.”

Demons? Summoning circles? Did I wake up this morning or…

The child pulled out a pair of black gloves and started to slip them on. He was still shaking and was still biting his lip, but his eyes never left the circle.

He picked his way across the kitchen and started to climb the counters, his knees smearing the blood there. When I pointed this out and tried to get him off the counter he batted me away.

“I’m sorry,” he said licking his lips, “but-but, I need to get a closer look…see? I need to see if its fat, or oil, or a concoction of some sort…”

“What would be the difference?”

“Wwwell,” the kid stood up and started to rub the ceiling with his fingers, “if-if the circle is made with oil, then the demon will be weaker than one summoned with fat. If it’s a concoction, then we may be dealing with something even I will have problems with.”

He gave a weak laugh and sniffed his fingers. He relaxed a bit.

“its oil,” he sighed, “thank goodness.”

He continued to analyze the circle. He even started to hum and mutter a little.

I turned to the other officers. One came in to tell me they were leaving, but Officer Gray was going to stay with the wife and me. We would bring her to the precinct after we were done.

I waved and watched them all leave, taking the dead body with them.

“We’re done,” I said after a while, “we need to leave.”

“Oh…oh,” he said looking around and seeing the mostly empty apartment, “ohhhhhh…dear.”

“What?”

“Um, its just, um,” he was back to making erratic gestures with his hands and as he spoke he got quieter, “that witch has at-at-at most a level 10 demon…from the markings on the circle its probably a class 5…we have to deal with the witch and the demon so..”

I could no longer hear what he was saying even though his lips were still moving.

“Sorry, I can’t hear-“

“Shhhuuuu!!” he flinched and glanced around him as he licked his lips, “the witch will hear us…”

“That woman is not a witch,” I said firmly, “she’s a victim of abuse and-“

“She killed him.”

“Because she was protecting herself.”

“He was protecting himself,” the boy countered me, his voice steady for the first time, “that man was sacrificed to summon that witchs demon. He didn’t have to die, but she killed him.”

I was supposed to be the unstable drunk and now officially I was concerned for the state of this childs mental health. The commander had ordered this child to work with me, and I was having a hard time working out why.

I shook my head, “look, kid, that woman has been through enough without us accusing her of malicious intent. Have you seen her face? He beat her. She was defending herself. Its crazy to accuse this woman when she was only defending herself.”

Something changed in the childs face…though I couldn’t put my finger on what.

“The man that died was the innocent one, detective,” the boy said, again, firmly, “that witch is a monster and I’ll show you if you’d like.”

He hopped down from the counter and began to walk into the front room. I grabbed his arm.

“Look, kid, i don't know where you come off calling people monsters-"

"Because they ARE-"

"We'll take her down to the station and settle the matter there, if that will make you happy, k? You will NOT talk to her. She has enough problems without you getting medieval on her.”

“Rude,” the kid scowled and I realized what had changed. He no longer licked his lips. He had stopped shaking. His eyes, which had not come even close to my own, now looked at me dead on.

“I’m much more sophisticated, thank you very much, I use persuasion and cleansing, not the ‘Latin-Eviction-Chant’. I’m not an animal. But I am right and if you take that woman down to the police station she’s going to have every last one of you under her charm speak before the night is over.”

Not once did he stutter. Was all that an act? I tightened my grip.

“Don’t go near her.”

“Never, ever, call me crazy,” he pulled his arm from my hand and I made to grab at him again. But he walked swiftly into the other room. I lunged for him and slipped on the blood and, yes, oil.

He patted the cop on the shoulder, cutting into the conversation. Then without hesitation, he socked the woman in the face. By then I had mad it to him and grabbed him away.

"Take care of the cop,"the kid shrugged and I felt muscle- ACTUAL muscle under the kids shirt as a sword appeared in his hand.

"WHAT THE HELL!" was all I could say in reply.

As for the woman I had thought was so innocent just a second before- her face contorted and the injuries vanished. Her fingers elongating and he smiled.

"Now how was I found out? I didn't cast anything that strong."

"Your master screw up," the kid said with a huff, "so now you suffer as his pupil."

She shrieked and attcked, the kid actually engaging in the fight.

I turned to officer Gray to see if he was seeing what i was seeing and what he thought of this. His face was blank, his eyes out of focus. He sat on the floor with his note pad barely held between his fingers.

I grabbed Gray and dragged him away from the fight. I pulled him back into the kitchen as the woman screamed. I checked his pulse and slapped him a few times, but he refused to react to me.

There was another scream, panicked and louder. The childs sword buried deep into her chest. He twisted the blade and a shadow leaked out of the wound. Not blood. An inky black substance that oozed and twitched as it fell to the floor.

The kid ripped the blade from the woman and she stumbled backward, gasping, but otherwise unhurt. He bent over and grabbed the shadow in one hand, lifting it up and holding it out at arms length.

“How about you go home now?” he asked the shapeless ooze. He carried it towards me and I backed away, tripping over Officer Gray. The kid glanced in my direction.

“She’ll recover before I’m done, hold her off for a sec.”

“What?”

I stood back up and watched him hold the shadow up towards the ceiling. He started to chant and the Crisco oil started to glow.

I swore to never drink again.

As I watched the kid a sharp pain erupted in my side.

The woman grabbed my shoulder and shoved her…those weren’t nails. They were straight up pointed bone fingertips and her right hand was carving its way into my side.

“Out of my way,” she seethed and shoved me to the ground. Now, I’m not a small guy, but she easily shoved me to the opposite wall of the long kitchen. I slid to the ground and held onto my wound. Blood was seeping out between my fingers as cries and shouts could be heard on the other side. I could actually feel something warm spread from the wound to the rest of my body.

I blinked, my vision going blurry. Shadows were starting to appear where they shouldn’t and I began to panic.

I was going to die.

I was going to die not knowing what the hell was going on.

I was a detective so I would ALWAYS know what was going on!

“I can help.”

I shook my head.

“I can help.”

The voice was a small one and it was in my ear! Was I so close to death that I was now hearing things as well?

“Make a deal with me, and I’ll help.”

Thinking it couldn’t hurt, I answered, “…who…what are you?”

“I am the demon that was summoned. My contract with the witch is broken and the circle leading back to my dimension is broken. I will die if I don’t have a body to posses.”

“I’m not handing over my body.”

“You don’t have to,” the demon replied, “I’ll just live in your mind. You can retain complete control.”

“I’m not sharing my body either.”

“you will die.”

“Yeah, well…thems the brakes.”

It was getting harder to breathe. I could see shapes moving quickly as the witch and the boy fought. I thought about everything that was said and done. He had told me to watch the witch and I hadn’t. If I died it would be because of my pride…because pride...

“I wonder…what’s going on…” I muttered as I closed my eyes, “will you tell me everything if I agree?”

“…if you let me live I will give you all the knowledge I posses,” the demon replied, “though it will not be a life debt since saving my life will save yours as well.”

“I just want to know…” I hissed as the wound throbbed.

“I will tell you all.”

“Then we have a deal.”

The pain immediately stopped. My vsion cleared and I could breathe again. I sat up and looked at my side. The hole in my shirt and the blood I had lost was still there, but the wound was gone.

“I healed you,” the demon said, the voice now coming from inside my own head, “I will now finish my promise.”

I blacked out.

()

When I opened my eyes next, I was looking into the brown eyes of the nine year old. He gave a shaky smile.

“The demons gone,” he said and licked his lips, “I got rid of it…it wasn’t…you really shouldn’t’ve…”

“That little freak said he wouldn’t possess me,” I said, sitting up and wincing. My chest and neck hurt like someone had shove a handful of needles into them. I was next to the upturned coffee table and when I looked around I remembered how he’d gotten the demon out of the woman.

“Did you STAB me?!”

The boy lifted his sword up for me to see. It was black, but the longer I looked at it, the more I noticed that it was also producing a type of light.

“It doesn’t cut humans,” he ran the sword through his own arm and nothing happened, “It only gets rid of demons.”

I rubbed my chest where it hurt the most and leaned away from the blade. The boy held the blade out and dropped it. It disappeared before it hit the ground.

I closed my eyes and prayed for the first time. There was something wrong with me. Was this a coma dream? I was going to wake up any moment…

“Are you ok?”

I opened one eye to see the kid looking worried and biting his lower lip. Now that the sword was out of his hands he began to fiddle with his fingers again.

“Yeah,” I said, “peachy.”

The boy sighed with relief and gave me a shy smile, “it would be re-really-really bad if my new partner died on the first night.”

That didn’t make me feel better. It felt like there was going to be an “again” at the end of that sentence.

I stood up and brushed myself off. There was a fine dust all over me and the floor. I sneezed and the boy shrugged.

“Try not to get it in your mouth,” he said.

“What is it? Where did it come from?”

The boy looked anywhere but at me, “you can tell the age of a witch by how…dusty she is when you kill her. This one was probably a few centuries old…”

I huffed, trying to get the dust out of my nose. I suddenly felt more dirty than I ever have in my life. I mean, the stuff was in my hair!

“How…how long have you been doing this exactly?” I asked, trying to get my mind off of the fact that I had human dust all over me.

“It’s the family business,” the boy said moving a pile of dust around with his foot as he looked down, “I move around to different offices and aid those that come in contact with the witches….when I work with your office, from-from now on, I’ll be assigned to you.”

“but you’re nine!”

“I’m twelve,” the boy sighed, “…i’ve always been small…”

Being small was not the problem!

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“I’m home schooled,” he shrugged, “and I’m almost done with the tenth-grade curriculum.”

I didn’t know what to be more disturbed by: the fact that a child was being kept home to fight demons, the fact that the child in question was still playing with human dust, The fact that i was SOBER, or the fact that this all was real in the first place.

“Are you angry?” he asked, his face the picture of worry, “...you-you’ll be well compensated…”

I get a raise out of this?

Is it worth it?

But I could always use the extra cash.

But I didn’t like kids.

I was due for a raise two years ago.

…but demons and witches and who knew what else?

But I NEEDED the extra cash…

“No, I’m not-“

An old fashioned phone started to ring and the boy pulled a phone out of his pocket.

“Hi dad,” he said turning around for the illusion of privacy, “yes, finished a few minutes ago…yes…he’s alive…no…yes…ok…love you too, bye.”

He hung up and turned to me, “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

He waved at me while he left, not waiting for me to respond or anything. I stood there for longer than I’d like to admit while my mind processed my new reality.

((that's not me being narcissistic, its a play on my name and she calls me that all the time...))

They say opposites attract, but this is truly ridiculous.

I have dark, wild curly hair. I am publicly schooled and have seven siblings. My dad was military and I grew up...NOT in the city.

Julie has blond, straight hair. Home schooled and a single child. Her father is a linguist and she grew up in inner city Huston.

And we are TWO FREAKING PEAS IN A POD! If we stayed together for any longer we coulda taken over the world.

Some of our BEST moments would not make sense with this audience, to be fair, but I am under the impression that the BEST friendships are all about the LITTLE things.

()

She was doing an internship in Peru and read a facebook post I put out about an encounter I'd had on my way back from getting a C on my biology midterm. I had been crossing the street to my apartment building and this guy in the car driving by shouted "HAIL SATAN" at me. So I turned around and waved, because what else are you supposed to do?

I thought it was funny, so I shared it.

Well, Julie thought it was HYSTERICAL, like i knew she would, and she facebook video-ed me and we were laughing so hard and she told me the sadist news! Apparently, when she first read it she laughed out loud and told the other people in her group about my post...no one else thought it was funny. They were all VERY concerned about me and even MORE concerned that Julie thought it was funny.

For one day I had strangers in Peru feeling bad for me.

()

Winters are cold and I tried to drink more teas instead of coco since i was gaining a little pudge. Well, in school, I worked at 3am so my mugs sometimes ended up in odd places as I walked around getting ready for work and then leaving for work. That day, my mug was placed on the stove.

I forgot about it by the time i got home in the afternoon, and flopped down on the couch to get my homework done.

Time passes and Julie comes in and starts to talk to me about my eating baby hearts....

BABY HEARTS.

With a straight face she asks me how my "regimen" is going and if there's any other "cravings" i'm getting. She asks if I now have an aversion to garlic or urges to wear pointy hats.

I left the tea bag at the bottom of the mug on the stove and it REALLY looked suspicious under the kitchen light...kinda like a little heart.

()

I like anime and Julie- not so much.

So back in 2020 when i'm at home doing my last semester of school online, in the middle of a quiz, and i hear my phone buzz, I glance at it and see JULIE: "HE DIED!..."

You can understand I was a little...alarmed.

Thankfully it was NOT a timed quiz and i was on the last question anyway, so I picked up my phone and read it right away.

"HE DIED! WHY DID MAES HUGHES HAVE TO DIE!?" it was a longer rant, but it was about like this.

Granted my brain was still half on the quiz, but the other half had deduced that this was not an emergency. So while I couldn't remember where I had heard the name "Maes Hughes" before, I finished (and aced) my quiz.

After that I went back to the text and pondered for a sec and then it hit me..

She was watching FullMetal Alchemist!! AND if she was crying about HUGHES, that means she got past TUCKER!!!! ON HER OWN!!!

So I texted back and was just like, "hon, we gotta LOT to talk about...the doctor is IN."

()

In all honesty, I can only give stories that have made my day and the reasons that I absolutely love her. The way she talks and tells stories fills me with joy! She has such a fun way to turn a phrase and the way she can just make you laugh.

I can not be without my spiritual twin here!

True equality is surrounded by the idea of the outcome of ones opportunities and choices.

That's the only way you can ensure different people are happy with their life. Different people will want different things in life. Different goals make them happy.

What makes me happy doesn't even make my closest sister happy, and we're related and we were raised the same! We were treated the same and understand the same references and the same parents, but in the end, our life choices are vastly different.

So, looking at sisters from the same household, how can you expect two people from different households to bow to FORCED equality?

Because that's what (unnamed) people are talking about, yes? Disguising it by calling it "equity" instead.

By forcing fundamentally different people to be equal, you end up with situations like "A Wrinkle In Time". Of course its a blown up imagined version of the fear, but think about it for a moment.

This force is taking over planets in time and space and foceing everyone and everything to be "the same". If you don't agree with "It" then you must be "corrected". Doesn't that sound chillingly familiar and remind you of Mary Poppins for so odd reason?

Not to mention that "It" was called "It". Non-binary and inclusive to ALL so as not to offend anyone.

Can we all agree that as a fantasy book it is still far fetched, but there are some concerning parallels as an anecdote?

Your freedoms only extend until they infringe upon the rights of others. You have choices and opportunities. No one is keeping you where you are at except you.

Make those hard choices.

Make the better of two ill choices...or that third one that no one talks about...

Its your life.

YOU live it.

Its not my job.

The stories I could tell you about my nephew when he about five years old and things that would just pop out of that childs mouth...

~ Kindergarten was half a day. He would walk to school with his older brother in the morning, but I would have to pick him up in the afternoon.

One day we were walking home and holding hands. I forced him to hold my hand while walking so that we could match each others pace. He was also a flighty child and I didn't want him to run into the street.

This day he spontaneously speaks up and says, "the only reason you walk faster than me is because your legs are longer and you pick you feet up more!"

Impressed he was able to put that together on his own, I nod, smile, and respond with, "I know."

He looks horrified and says, "how did you know i was going to say that?"

I laugh and shrug, "I didn't. I was just agreeing with you."

"Oh," he says, and thinks about it for a moment. then he looks at me suspiciously and insists, "BUT HOW DID YOU KNOW?!"

By then I couldn't help myself.

"I can read minds."

"I knew it," he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

~I was making him lunch and microwaving him easy-mac. I can't remember why i was in such a bad mood that day but i yelled at the microwave to hurry up. I was just in a mood, ya know?

Well, behind me, sitting at the counter waiting for his food was Jackson.

"Did it hear you?"

"What?"

My brain totally short circuited. Picture, if you will, the most innocent looking child waiting kindly for his food and asking a frazzled and crazy aunt if the sky is purple.

"Did it hear you?"

It occured to me then that he was talking about the microwave.

"Oh, no, hon. The microwave can't...um...look, i'm just-"

"It can hear me."

With the most serious expression and with unblinking eye contact he said, "it speaks in my mind and i can tell it to hurry up."

...

I had to leave so I could die laughing. When I told my sister what her son said later that day I almost couldn't get the story out I kept laughing...

These are only two stories....

Jackson had a whole following when he was little on facebook....my sister would just put up the heading: "Jackson Story" and her friends would go nuts.

I love my nieces and nephews. My sisters kids are my babies. They are a riot.

(Authors note at the end)

My name is Simmi’on. I make my living off bounties and jobs given to me by the king. Specifically, the gathering of the heads of former comrades. It is the cost of my own protection as well as my own living. The crown allows me to stay within the borders of the land- my own cottage as well- so long as I can clean up the mess from time to time.

I saw no problem with this.

There is a trick in tracking the creatures of darkness, however. Knowing how they think is a blessing and a curse…it helps, but it just makes me even more annoyed.

For example, there was the time I caught the trail of Krizix, a Knight in the Demon Lords army. Though he was only a knight when I left, he no doubt had risen in rank over the year. He was sly, powerful, and dangerous. The sooner I killed him the better.

I trailed him along the border of two human kingdoms and along the sea. His trail lead me inward to the deserted West Gate forest when I began to notice I was being tailed as well.

High evil is never alone, you see. The more important the evil, the surer you are that it will be protected at all costs.

Rule 1) They do not play fair. If you track them, they are, more often than not, tracking you as well.

It was about this time that Krizixs trail began to vanish. Gnashing my teeth a bit, I went as far as I could, and then waited.

It was a beautiful day. One my neighbors in the small village I had settled in often say is “picnic weather”. I made a mental note to return the basket I had borrowed before.

The ruins of West Gate were over grown and the earth was doing its job swallowing it up. The trees, though new after the war that had taken place here, were somewhat starved. Their root showing as they tried to dig into the hard packed earth. Other than that moss and weeds were the only thing hardy enough to really grow in bulk…

“Are you waiting for me?”

The woman- to any human- was stunning. She wore blue dragon skin silk that showed off well-toned muscles, but not only that, the shade of blue made her eyes large and sparkle in the sun. The style of fabric played with her long hair that was tied back in multiple bands, allowing one of them to frame her face while also being practical.

“No,” I said, “unless your leader is a coward.”

Her smile showed pearls and would have melted the heart of the kings army. It was then that I remembered I had my hood up and she honestly thought I was just a stronger than most human.

She walked closer to me. I assume there was a smell associated with the movement, but unless I make a conscious effort, I don’t have a sense of smell or taste.

“Why are you following us?”

“Why do you think?”

“You like games?”

“Not especially.”

“What’s your name? It’s a little rude to stalk us and not at least introduce yourself, yes?”

“My name is of no consequence, Roberta,” I said, “you’re looking a little thin. Is that why you’re trying so hard with me?”

I am usually a gentleman, but succubus’s aren’t ladies, so watching her get angry made me happy. I may be reformed in many ways, but I do have a bit of a MEAN streak…and I do enjoy watching my prey squirm.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” she said recovering quickly and bending over so I had a view of her goods, “I guess I have to play your game? Will you tell me the rules?”

“Of course,” I said pulling my skeletal hands from my sleeves. Purple sparks flying between my knuckles.

“Hold still and scream loudly so that everyone knows you lost.”

She hissed and moved back quickly, “Lich!”

“That’s the problem with using too much perfume, Roberta, you tend to miss the important details of who you are dealing with.”

She spat and flipped her hair; all pretenses of seduction gone. Her nose wrinkled and she rolled her eyes.

“I suppose you’re the hunter in that tiny kingdom up North, Simon?”

“Simmi’on.”

“Whatever traitor.”

I sent my first bolt of lightning. She shrieked as she flailed to one side. I laughed at the humorous look on her face.

“What was that?!”

“We are in the middle of a battle,” I replied sending another bolt and was rewarded with another humorous antic, “did you think I was going to chat with you some more? Alas, my time is worth more than that.”

I had managed to singe her hair pretty good. Her face was now red and her knuckles white with fury. She cursed and threw her magic at me which I blocked effortlessly.

She was testing me.

A succubus and incubus are not confrontational fighters by choice, but they can be very mean. The best way I have found to fight them is to get them serious from the get go. Get them angry to start and then just have your fight. If you don’t, the succubus will test your will power and endurance by starting off slow and then increasing the difficulty as she feeds off your energy that way.

As a lich, she couldn’t feed off me, but I still would get bored if I had to fight her preferred way. And provoking her was so much fun.

“How long since you last fed,” I asked, making sure I sounded genuinely concerned, “for you to be so weak, I would assume your leader would give you a hand out or drugged prisoner-“

That did it.

Roberta screamed so loud my skull vibrated a little as she shot toward me, blue lightning shooting from her fingertips in an arch.

Rule 2) Know your opponent.

Succubus and Incubus do NOT use anything other than themselves. To even suggest that they would use drugs or a “hand out” is the highest insult you can give them. I know most of them DO use drugs and are lower than scum, but to actually SAY it…well…its like rubbing crap in an open wound.

She leapt into the air, arching her back as she rained down what she thought was her version of justice on me.

All it did was remove my hood as I shifted my footing to keep up my defense. As she landed, she threw more spells my way, twisting the magic and bending it to try and get past the barrier.

A thick black mist began to rise from the ground around our feet and rise, obscuring her footwork. She was skilled, but like most of her kind, painfully unimaginative. The mist helped her out a little, but not enough.

I threw attacks her way and got her comfortable blocking them, so I threw a curse in the middle of them as well.

“Enough.”

The voice was loud, but cold. I stopped only when Roberta stopped. She hissed and cursed.

“My lord, I can-“

“Retreat and regroup. We have other tasks to complete before days end.”

She huffed and flipped her hair. I could already see the result of my curse. A slight blemish was starting to appear on her face…on her cheeks and on her chin. The washer ladies in town were the ones who helped me develop the curse and reassured me that any female- demon or other- would hide under their bed until the curse ran its course. I still didn’t understand it very well, but the human women were so sure of themselves I thought I would try it out.

I watched Roberta as she walked away and vanished into the shadows of the ruins.

“I will inform the King that you live well, Simmi’on.”

“You could correct that and offer him my head, Krizix,” I prompted, “I am tired after playing with your pet.”

“Maybe later. I just made it to General and I have SO much to do. You remember what its like, right?”

“Yes, yes,” I sighed, “is this mist your doing?”

“It is.”

“Very well done.”

“Thank you, but we will be going now…” his voice drifted off into the air.

“Too bad for you though,” I walked up to a tree and placed a hand on it. I channeled the mist right back into it, “Dark Mist is a spell I invented, so you can choke on it.”

The trees leaves all wilted and fell off. The bark peeled like a rotten fruit and inside was a demon. His black skin flaking off due to the fact that I’d just forced his magic back into him. Its not something any physical body endures very well.

Rule 3) If a trail ends, then chances are you didn’t loose your prey, you’re right on top of them.

“General Krizix,” I said reaching down and grabbing one of his horns to haul him up, “you are far too young to know how to use Dark Mist. Did you know that its main use is to be used at night, not during the day? The sun is still up. There is a human child I have grown quite fond of that would call you ‘silly’ for such behavior.”

I snapped the horn off his head and he screamed.

“That’s for the village you terrorized where I had to start tracking you. They should be able to sell that and pay for damages.”

I snapped off the other horn and he writhed on the ground where I dropped him.

“This is my compensation since those people and those I’ve met and helped on the way haven’t been able to pay me.”

I looked down at Krizix and thought about Roberta for a bit. I let my mind wonder for a moment about how I had ended up here in the first place.

Sighing a bit, I bent over and cast a spell exploding the new generals head.

Rule 4) Make sure the target is dead.

“Did you have to make a mess?”

If I had flesh eyes to roll, I would have.

The Demon King herself sat atop the stone ruins as if they were an extension of her throne. Since she was NOT the demon ruler to destroy the West Gate I thought this impudent of her.

“I did not know you were so concerned with cleanliness,” I replied flicking off brain matter from my robe in her direction.

“Roberta is in a state,” she said, “what is that spell?”

“A new one.”

“So I figured.”

“I’m tired, little king, and you still have to unite the demon lords under you if you wish to conquer the human realms in full. I will excuse myself.”

She raised her sword and stopped me. I sighed.

“Why did you leave?”

“I am old.”

“That is no excuse!”

“Little King-“

“I AM NOT LITTLE! I AM THE RIGHTFUL KING!”

I gnashed my teeth, “That is up for interpretation. I have lived under the rule of over 600 demon kings, Little King. Many more powerful and more dignified than you. Many more petulant than you, if you can believe that. But I am tired. I am old. I wish to rest.”

“So you fight for humans?! How does that make sense?!”

“Do you know how Lich are born?”

True to being a monarch, she didn’t flinch, she simply narrowed her eyes and didn’t reply.

“A Lich starting point is born when a human dabbles in what they should not. My root is that of a human. Therefore, is it not fitting that I should not die among my own? Is it not poetic?”

Here her face faltered a bit, “You…you’re betraying me for…poetry?”

I laughed, “It’s not personal, little king.”

Her face, all pretense gone, showed her confusion out right.

I watched with amusement. It wasn’t a total lie. I had discovered, with a little help, that being around humans- creatures of light- as a lich -a creature of dark- made me weak. And I hoped that one day that weakness would bring me death.

Sweet release and slumber.

“Are you sure you want to be my enemy?” She asked, her “kingly” face back on.

I made a show of looking her up and down, “I think I’ll live another 100000 years…”

Pink splotches appeared on her face even though I hadn’t put a curse on her and she stood. A dark gate appeared behind her and she walked through.

I waited for anyone else to appear.

When the sun hit the horizon and the moons began to shine I lit a few orbs and rummaged through Krizixs belongings. Stored away whatever valuables he had and scoffed at the other things he kept with him. Turns out the guy was painfully superstitious and a bit of a hoarder.

Rule 5) Always take a different rout home.

Unless you have made promises on your journey- which I HIGHLY recommend you NOT do- you want to NOT take the same way home. Becoming predictable is how you become a target. Its how bandits get their paydays and how some inns and towns get forgotten.

Since the former new general took me the long way around the coast, I decided to go over the mountains back home. The single small pass that was only open three months of the year.

I traveled North and East and hitched a ride with a small caravan. The merchant and his sons kind enough but were the kind that didn’t like magic much. They worked with their hands and for honest wages.

I respected that and when they saw I didn’t mean them any argument, they were more than willing to hold a conversation with me.

When I got to Botend town- the town at the southern end of the pass, it was too late and the pass was closed. Being what I was I could easily just ignore it and go ahead up the mountain, but, again, I’m old, and I’ve gotten so used to taking it easy these days.

I found an inn, paid my keep up front, and nestled in for a long winter.

(((((((((((((())))))))))))))

(A/N): I wrote this for a competition, but I don't have the money for the entry fee, so I'm posting it here. The object of the competition was to write a story about the above picture.

How do you think I did?

And do you want more?

I've grown fond of Simmi'on as I've done this, but I want to know what you think...