How to keep warm

I was walking - yes walking, using my own legs - to work this morning, on the verge of freezing solid when I had a fabulous idea. Why not engulf myself in the Fires of Hell to keep warm? Everyone knows that witches and gays are going straight to Hell so why not start now and get used to it?

So I did.

I opened a portal, knowing that most humans wouldn't see the flames - well, they only see what they can comprehend, luckily - and basked in Hell's warming glow as I perambulated into the city (I've always wanted to use that word:perambulated). Having been there a couple of times, I knew where in Hell the best flames could be found.

I did get an odd look from one of the Demons that works in Norwich Union, who was walking on the other side of the street, but I ignored it - it was only jealous that I'd thought of the idea first.

- pzzt . . . szszppt . . . susuzpptszz . . . pzz ... -

Oh.

I've just been told that gays can't open portals - zzst . . . psszzt! - Sorry. Gays can't open Hell portals. It seems other types of "portals" are perfectly accessible to the average gay... Well, for any that are interested: next time I'm in the Castle (the pub, not the big building that overlooks the city) I'll be doing a demonstration on how to open your very own gateway to Hell so you too can keep warm in these cold, dark times.

And, I'm still seeing things that are really there (see last post) - it's really off putting. I shall be having words...

Bugger! I mean Lawks...

I don't think the transition is going well. I'm seeing things that are there. I mean really there. Things that shouldn't be seen.

For example, just now, the ghost of the spider I accidently sucked up the vacuum cleaner yesterday just ran across my my chest and arm.

This isn't right.

I think my host is rejecting me. He is so contrary and stubborn.

I must do something about this...

Paraselene in obscurity

After rereading that last post, I realised how tired I must have been while writing it. It's appalling. I wanted to expand on the details, embellish the descriptors, magnify the whole experience. The Hallowe'en experience should have been nothing less than paraselene!

What a load of old guff, eh?

I'm off to read a good book while soaking in the bath...

What the Naked Knight said

As it happens I have nearly an hour to recount what was said. There's bloody football or somesuch on - I was going to watch Colin & Justin. Ha! I bet you thought I had a life. Sorry to disappoint you.

Hopefully you'll remember that I "gave a lift to" a very light travelling man whilst on my way to see my sister, Indescribable DeVice, on Hallowe'en. This is what he told me...

It seems Witches were phased out years ago to make way for the Superhumans. Then they themselves were phased out but are making a very discrete comeback - ignore the Moving Pictures, Naked Knight said, they're fiction - but need some assistance.
My Naked Knight as it turns out, is part of a small group of Supernaturals, as they like to be known now. He asked me if I'd like to sign up!

Well, I'd never heard such nonsense in my life. And I told him so. Supernaturals indeed. For a start, I said, even if I did believe his story, I just don't have the time anymore. I've had to get a job to earn money to survive. Long gone are the times when just being a witch would get you a free cottage, free clothes (albeit hand-me-downs) and all the free food you can shake a wand at. Not to mention respect - look at those little buggers earlier who were trying (quite literally) to eat me out of house and home! Work keeps me occupied for a third of the day. Then there's sleeping. That's another eight hours lost. When am I going to get time to go haring around the country fighting Supervillains etc?

That's when he burst out of his (my) clothes.

My hand went to my throat as I gasped and stared. It appears he was telling the truth about him being a Supernatural. He'd only gone and generated some psychic armour that was too big for his (again, my) clothes to stretch around.

There he sat, looking smug in his slightly glowing, translucent armour. Me being me, recovered too late and ended up looking a bit stupid as I sniffed and turned away slightly, my nose in the air.

Eventually, we got to talking again. It seems he was on a training exercise with the dragon-thing, when he knocked himself out. The dragon-thing was carrying him home (which explained the claw marks on his shoulders) when I disturbed her. She wasn't expecting her airspace to be populated by a domestic witch and reacted by trying to torch me. Apparently, the half formed Scathing Poker Curse made her drop him and by sheer luck, he landed on my broom.

I told him I'd have to think about joining his little club. Then he suggested that we "meet up" when I'm available to "get me used to things". Cheek! I knew what he was after. If only he wasn't so... so... arrogant and sexy. Something stirred inside me and it wasn't a spoon.

Ooh. Must go. I've come over all queer.

The Seven

The Seven is a team of, funnily enough, seven Supernaturals, whose members at this point are: Knight, Warlock (me, the witch Inexplicable DeVice), the Lady, Blacksmith, Dragon, Seer and Wraith.

It's not like that in real life

I was forced to go to the moving pictures last night to see the horror that is Harry Potter. I was determined not to enjoy it, as having moaned about it but never actually experienced it, I couldn't be seen to go back on myself. I needn't've worried. It was rubbish.

For a start, no one I know can go that fast on a broom without succumbing to horrendous wind chill burns. And what's with those wands? How on earth do they manage to contain all that thaumatalurgical energy? Mine can barely hold enough to displace a small car (although it is a very old design). And lastly, who in their right minds would allow children access to such power. They can barely hold in their hormones, never mind anything else!

- muffled thump... slurp -

Bugger! Those bloody kids are back. Hang on...

- scrape... "Clear off. It's not made of cake, you know" ... bang... "ow"... screeeech... lick, lick, lick "urgh"... "fuck off"... "I heard that!"... Zzzzap! -

There. That's got rid of them!

Now I've got no time left to resume the recitation of what happened on Hallowe'en, never mind my rant about Harry Potter. Bloody kids. Actually, it's mostly my fault. I should never have left that stone cladding up that looks like gingerbread...

Overweight stalker?

Is it possible to be in-morbidlyobese-uated with someone? I hope not. Being infatuated is quite enough.

I'm not a stalker, really. This is just a hypothetical question. Well, there's a slight possibility of stalkerish tendancies if it wasn't so cold out and my eyesight was a bit better.

Eeeeek!

I've just realised I've made a spelling mistake of the inexcusable kind on my last post. You've got a week or so to point it out to me before I put it right.

If no one can spot it then I won't tell you what my Naked Knight (as he is now affectionately known) told me on Hallowe'en. I know you're all just bursting with curiosity. I can tell by the amount of comments I've received on the subject. Ha Ha (and not in a funny way).

I do mean to update this thing more often but the Demon Box makes my eyes go funny - I quite often end up squinting up my own nostrils... And I've been busy, too. Really I have. All to do with Naked Knight, actually. And no, not in that way!

Invisibility

Now, just because I'm a witch doesn't mean I'm fictional and therefore invisible.

Take this morning, for instance. I went swimming as I am inclined to do twice a week. Not naked in some lake on the heath. And certainly not under a full moon. I'm a witch, not a bloody stupid fool! There's a reason why people catch hypothermia.

Anyway, back to this morning. There I was swimming up and down the local pool, large as life and twice as ugly - well, I've got a coldsore - perfectly happy. Two people get in and start to barge their way through the water as if they had a personal grudge against it, heading directly for me. I couldn't get out of the way because I was already at the side of the pool. Not that I would have, of course. I don't give way to anyone unless I can possibly help it. At the last moment, they realised there was something other than water in their way. Me!

I was obviously invisible from the time they got in to the moment they saw my stern visage two inches from their noses. Luckily for them they diverted course... Then, as I was adjusting my goggles in the shallow end, I saw this silly old bint (who's a regular) get in. I knew from past experience that she liked to swim along the side as I was doing. However, I thought that, as I was already there and the two idiots previously mentioned were right next to me, she would swim in the middle of the pool where there was plenty of room. But no. I had obviously become invisible again. How tiresome...

In fact, my invisbility was so perfect that as I was about to push off to start another length, the daft old bat waded right in front of me and began swimming incredibly slowly down the pool. She was lucky I restrained myself or I would have smashed right in to her bony old carcass. By this time I'd had just about enough so I pushed off violently, submerging head first, my legs breaking the surface like a whale's fluke before smashing down in to the water right next to her mouldy, wrinkled face. I knew she didn't like to be splashed but could only imagine the look on her face - like a puckered up cat's bum - as I glided serenely away underwater.

And then, this afternoon, as I was walking home, I managed to become invisible yet again. I racked my brain trying to think when I'd deliberately cast such a spell but couldn't recall an instance recently. I was forced to swerve several times to avoid common people. They just kept coming at me. I stood my ground for as long as I dared but when it became obvious that they hadn't seen me, I had to move lest they came in physical contact. Shudder! If I wanted that I'd go to Next during the sales.

Rant over.

I was going to let you know what my naked passenger told me, but had to get this off my chest first. I've already gone on far too long so will tell you another time.

Knight of the Witch (part III - Will this be the third and final part?)

...Continued from Knight of the Witch (part II)

 The journey back was almost free of incident, which made a nice change. The flying creature had disappeared somewhere. Probably terrorising suburbia... My "passenger" remained unresponsive to several more jabs in the ribs and a headbutt to the small of his back. The headbutt was an accident, of course. It was! I was almost home when a gigantic moth flew straight into my open mouth, practically forcing its way down my throat. Naturally, I reared back in surprise losing my handhold and smashed the back of my head into his spinal column. Immediately I swung forwards, narrowly avoiding severe whiplash, and hacked up the furry thing, spitting it over my left shoulder. Bleugh! I can still taste it now...

 Lightly grazing the cherry tree on the landing approach - some might say "crashing through" but they weren't there so they can't comment - I persuaded the broom that a controlled skid on the lawn was much less damaging than careering into the raised patio. The naked man rolled off and ended up facing the night sky. I was going to avert my eyes but the blanket had rolled with him, a corner of which was just about covering his indecency.

 I was wondering whether to gather up him or my bags first, when he moved. Hooray! I hadn't killed him! Stooping next to him, my hand on his (rather impressive) chest, I leaned in to ask if he could move. Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and leapt to his feet, the blanket falling to the grass... Naturally, I looked. And kept on looking. Gosh!

 "Aaccchhh" he said. What?

 "Hoccchhhh" he added. What was he trying to say?

 "Haaackk". Then I noticed what looked like dust around his mouth.

 Drat. I'd spat the moth straight into his mouth and now he was choking on it. The landing must have wedged it further down his throat. I didn't know the Heimlich manoeuvre so I did the only thing I could and punched him in the stomach. The now damp moth rocketed out of his mouth as he doubled over and hit me square in the forehead. A man can have too much of moist ejecta hitting him in the face, you know...

 My "guest" straightened up, realised he was starkers and covered himself using both hands. He really needed three so you can imagine how pleased I was that evolution had seen fit to supply humans with only two!

 Anyway, to cut a long story short, I ushered him in the back door (no innuendo intended - witches never use the front door. Except to torment travelling salesmen), gave him a cup of tea and some clothes that he only just squeezed into. Not on purpose - he was very fit and I'm only slender. After we'd both relaxed in each others company for a while and I'd hinted at how he got to mine, he told me something rather interesting.

 I think that maybe being a witch in this day and age might be rather exciting. I'll tell you what he said another day. Suffice it to say that the "Knight of the Witch" title will make more sense...

 Ta ta for now!

Knight of the Witch (part II)

...Continued from Knight of the Witch (part I)

 Lawks! She was a right one. She can't be the Avon Lady, I thought. She looked like she'd dragged herself out of the swamp. She didn't half pong, too! To top it off, her eyes pointed in different directions and she had not so much a boil as a steadily simmering vat of pus on the side of her nose.

 Anyway, in an unusual moment of feeling emotion (I think it was empathy but could quite easily have been contempt), I let her in and bought a few pots of her greasy chemicals. An hour later, she'd got most of them on her face. After I'd seen what the liquid foundation did to the carpet after I accidently dropped it, it wasn't coming anywhere near my delicate skin, so I daubed it on her.

 She still looked hideous but at least that vile smell couldn't escape from her rather large pores. Actually, I dropped a tub of eye cream into a pore the size of a teacup but couldn't face reaching in to retrieve it.

 I digress. I'm supposed to be relating the tale of falling men. Did I mention the man in question was naked? No? Oh. He was naked.

 "Oof" he said as he landed face down across the broom. His was the only moon visible in the overcast sky.

 "Eeek" I replied while scrabbling for my luggage. My heart was in my mouth. As was my stomach, liver, kidneys and one lung - I've got a big mouth. I swallowed and exclaimed "You didn't half give me a fright". Silence. Hmmm... "I say, are you alive back there?" More silence. I did the only thing a curious witch should do in the circumstances: poked him. Hard. In the ribs. He gave a muffled grunt but didn't move. Bugger.

 At this point I had a decision to make. Did I tip him off the broom - well, who was I to interrupt his journey earthwards, albeit a terminal one - and carry on to Indescribable's? Or, did I turn around, try and evade the unknown flying creature and take him back to mine? Funnily enough, the decision was quite an easy one. Turning up at Indescribable's with or without a naked, unconscious man was tantamount to suicide. I couldn't remember the reason for going to hers in the first place. So, that left going back to mine. With a naked, unconscious man.

 Now, before you start: I HAVE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!

 As it was a bit nippy out, I pulled a blanket out from under the bags, knocking the melted Tupperware off the broom. Oops. Then, looking down, I realised it was only Swaffham that we were passing over and pushed the French Fancies off as well. I managed to get the blanket over the man, having to tuck bits of it underneath him to stop it blowing away. It was only then that I noticed what a fantastic body my unresponsive passenger had, aside from the scratch marks on his shoulders. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all!

To be continued in... Knight of the Witch (part III)
 

Knight of the Witch (part I)

 I know it's three days after Hallowe'en, but what a night. Or should I say Knight...

 There I was minding my own business, 350 feet up, slightly damp (the broom had been playing up again and wouldn't gain any more altitude so I was skimming the bottom of the clouds - I couldn't fly any lower because the damn thing kept stalling. Needless to say it hasn't been serviced yet...), wondering if it was worth flying all the way to my sister's, when out of the blue - well, out of the black - came this creature.

 Honestly, I nearly lost my lunch. Good job I didn't swerve or my Tupperware box would've plummeted earthwards spreading tuna sandwiches over half the county. Actually, they weren't just tuna sandwiches, they were tuna and paprika with ramiro peppers in ciabatta. I won't eat any old common muck, you know! It was at that moment that I decided to get some sort of rack or netting fitted to the broom to keep all my baggage safely on board. Well, that's a lie. At that particular moment I thought "SHIT! What in Christ was that?"

 Steering the broom with one hand and clutching on to my luggage with the other, I managed to stabilise my somewhat erratic flightpath. Peering through the cloudy gloom I caught a glimpse of the creature as it disappeared into the cloud above me. An ear-splitting screech filled the night air, followed by a gout of flame that vaporised the cloud around me. Smelling toast, I swivelled on the broom and saw my ciabatta, blackened and dripping molten plastic. To make matters worse, some of the melted Tupperware had dripped on to my French Fancies. Only the pink ones were left unscathed. Which was a bugger because I preferred the yellow and chocolate ones.

 There was nothing left to do but curse. So I did.

 Summoning up one of the lesser known variations of Gammer Hotley's Scathing Poker curses, I let rip in the general direction of the winged creature only to be rudely, and somewhat heavily, interrupted.

 By a falling man!

* ding dong *

 Ooh, there's the doorbell. Must dash (or beard, take your pick), it's probably the Avon lady. I'll finish the story soon...

To be continued in... Knight of the Witch (part II)