The beat of the wind as it hits the apartment building, the thrashing of the palm and fir trees, and the howling of the wind as it blows down the vents lures me outside to feel it hit against my body.
There is something exhilerating to feel a force stronger than myself. A force that would blow the dust and detris out of my life and to another life.
This is the last gasp of a dying beast before the cold sets into my bones. The last gasp before the death of winter.
And, I love it.
This is the time of year that the veil thins and I see what is hidden under the structure of reality. Sometimes it is sweet, but often it is horrifying. Each one of us agrees to this reality supported by our energy.
It is the time of year that I admit that living is a kind of magic. What makes each moment so intense is the knowledge that there is an ending to it. I've seen my ending many times and still survived.
Others with my powers ignore death and ignore the rotting corpses. But me, I know that death brings life in a changed form. You may think the necromatic arts are evil. I find them fascinanting. To speak to the dead and to resurrect the dead is a staple of Christian life. I am not black or white. I am shadow.
The wooden slatted bench is hard against my back and legs. I pull my flyaway hair and secure it in a bun. I've put on a jacket and skirt for this meeting because I was sure that the client thought they were getting a woman who dressed in black and wore a pointed hat. I was told to bring a wand, for God's sake.
It doesn't help that I have a spooky name-- Eerie. I sigh. I needed the money so I could keep my cabin in the woods. I needed the money to pay for food. I kept repeating to myself all the reasons I needed money. Death under the trees and in the woods was cleaner than the death I felt here.
Time to pay the piper.
(excerpt of a story that is rolling around in my head)
Cyn Bagley (c)2021