poemtry and prose

The apartment front door visitor buzzer loudly goes off. I yelp as i was rudely awakened from my revelry. It’s been about an hour since i started reading, so that means Sam was late. Doh and i wanted to read a bit more about the elements. Maybe i can get Sam to tell me more about their use in majickal circles and maybe give me an explanation as to why some consider Spirit to be an element.

I drop the ribbon onto the new page, and set the book down next to me. I rush to the door, ring the buzzer to let Sam in and turn off the music. Sam knocks on the door and i open it, rather dramatically.

“We do not want any of what you are selling,” i holler at her and pretend to shut the door.

“Whatever,” she giggles. “Hiya dahling.” Gives me a great big hug. “It feels like ages since we’ve been able to hang out with you. School just keeps you too busy, no?”

I nod. Yes, i think school does keep me busy.

“Which brings me to why i asked you here tonight.”

A Cheshire cat grin appears across her face, “Okay, I love surprises. What did you get?”

“Come on, let’s go to the bar and I will tell you all about it on the way.”

I grab my coat and scarf, grab my keys and lock the door as we walk out. On the way to the bar, instead of looking out the window and singing along to the tapes Sam keeps in her car, i relate to her the whole story about how i went to Lincoln this morning, found the book, took the book and a bit of what i read from it. She sits totally engaged in what i say. Normally, she would be the one steering the conversation, yelling over the stereo. But when i mentioned the inscription inside the book, she reached over and turned off the stereo and then gave me her full attention. Now that struck me as an odd and very un-Sam like thing to do. And when she did that, i knew that there was more to this book than i first realized.

“Wow, Kendra. First off, i had no idea that school has made you such a kleptomaniac. I would have to say that it is a vast improvement over the goody goody i once knew. “ Sam had to always throw a quip or two at me. I let it slide.

We pulled into the parking lot across the bar. Even though it was still early, it was a Friday night and parking in Old Town tends to get scarce. Sam’s face grew serious and she turned to me.

“I think you stumbled on a very old Book of Shadows,” she started.

“A Book of what?” I retorted. “i thought that was only made up things, stuff that Hollywood and novels wrote about to make majick and stuff more plausible.”

“No, Books of Shadows really do exist. Every witch or believer and practitioner of majick has one. I cannot believe i never showed you my Book of Shadows.”

I squeak, “No i had no idea you had one.”

The temperature has dropped dramatically. I inhale the cold air as we briskly walk to the bar. It smells as if the sky will break out into snow, which is an unlikely occurrence here. We hardly ever get snow because it rains too much. We get into the bar and grab a few stools situated around a high table. We order two glasses of Merlot before Sam continues with what she was saying.

“Okay, a Book of Shadows is a journal. But unlike an ordinary journal, these BoS’s as we sometimes refer to them as, contain the story and teachings of a witch. They also contain spells, rituals, and other useful spiritual information that one feels important enough to write down. It is odd and very unusual to find a Book of Shadows, especially one as old as you are describing hidden away and out in the open at a local library, University or not.”

“i know. That is one of the main reasons, besides having read the wild inscription in the front of the book, that i had to liberate it from the library. I never knew what it really was, until i started reading it. And that’s why i called you. Maybe you can help me track down who wrote it and why it was left in the Bay’s library? And why was i the one to find it.”

“HM, okay. I don’t know if we’ll ever find out who wrote it, but at the very least, if you let me take a look at it maybe i can place the language and script to a date and ask around my circles for more information.”

“Fair enough.”

And with that, we chat about other things as Sam begins to flirt around with some of the rat boys. After a few hours of chatting and being silly, Sam drives us back home this time, with us singing to Beers, Steers and Queers by Revolting Cocks at the top of our lungs. I invite her into the studio when we get back, to grab a glass of water, and to view the book.

She drops Mosi out of the comfy chair and i hand her the book.

“Let’s see what you have here,” she says and starts to skim over the books contents.