Tuesday, July 2, 2013


     Did'ya ever notice, that sometimes, your own reactions to things suprise you? You might think, hypothetically, that something might make you angry, say, but it doesn't, and you wonder what's up with that.

      I'm getting a little ahead of myself, here....
I hadn't been out with Susan in about three weeks; we saw each other in church, but we hadn't gotten together socially in a bit. Well, last Sunday, she came up to me after services, and after a bit of conversation, she offered to cook me dinner at her place that evening, about six-ish. My Ma didn't raise her oldest boy to be a fool, so there was no way I was going to turn this down. This was seconded by Pastor Mike and his missus, who had a gleam in her eye that told me that she probably had been doing a bit of social engineering on the sly.

     I got to her apartment about four-thirty, as the plan was for me to help her in the kitchen. There was a nice roasting chicken sitting in a pan, and after letting me in, Susan went back to peeling potatoes, which would be sliced and roasted-she set me to snapping beans.

     As she sliced the spuds, I saw the knife she was holding slip, and slice deeply into her finger. To my astonishment, the cut closed itself,  without time even to bleed! Susan seemed to not even feel it.

     I was calm....I knew what it meant, and that she hadn't told me about the obvious change in her, but I was calm, not angry, or shocked, just....curious.

     We got all the ingredients cooking, and sat at the kitchen table, where she could keep an eye on everything. We sipped iced mocha, talking about the service, and stuff during the week, when I realized it was time....

     "So", said I, ...."when were you going to tell me?"
The look on her face told me she'd considered playing cute, but decided, I guess, I deserved better. "Actually, I was going to tell you tonight, after I'd stuffed you full of  my mother's roast chicken, potatoes, beans, and German chocolate cake, but it's a little late for that, Wish. I'm sorry...."

     "It's not too late-smells like the chicken's almost done....we can talk during dinner."
When I said that, she smiled, a happy, relieved smile, and I did, too.

     There's an old song that says, "It's time to bring this ship into the shore, and throw away the oars forever".
I'd been fighting that feeling for weeks, being afraid of making a mistake, of losing again, until I found out this secret about her, and realized it didn't matter to me, not the secret itself, not the not-telling me part, there was no way I was going to walk away from here lonely, or let her ache over a mistake that cost her happiness.

     The story she'd told the police, and me, was pretty much the truth, except for one detail; OmegaSon didn't leave right after killing Ernesto, and Susan didn't immediately call the police. What she did was ask OS how to become a  Legion member, more specifically, could someone just ask to become one. By then, dinner was on the dining room table.

     As we tucked into the meal, I asked her what OmegaSon did, when she asked if she could just sign up, as it were.

     "He sat down on a car fender, near me, and said, 'As far as I know, there's no rule against it. If I may, why do you want to join?' "

     "I told him, 'That call was a little close....but it's not just that. I'm sick of people getting away with doing hideous things to other people. Ever since I was robbed a few months ago, I've been wanting to somehow be a part of this, but I didn't know how.' "

      "How did....what did he do", I said.
Susan said, "He took my hands in his, and I began to feel a warmth, a tingling warmth, coursing through my body. It wasn't painful, but pleasant.
The next thing I knew, it was as if I...went somewhere, for an instant, it's hard to explain, but when it was over, I was different."

     "When you cut yourself earlier, could you feel it?"  "Not pain, just the pressure of the knife; I'd hoped you hadn't seen anything."

     There was a silence, heading toward awkward, and I didn't want that, 'cause it might make her think that I felt differently about her, so I asked, "How do you look, I mean, when you change?" She got up from her chair, walked over to the corner near the china cabinet, and with a smile, said, "Like THIS...."
She closed her eyes, and in a second, she was different. I can't really describe exactly how she changed; it was sorta like when someone morphs in a movie, but not quite....like I said, it's hard to describe.

     What she changed into, is not.
She became taller, by almost six inches, and her hair got longer, redder, hanging to her waist, Irish-wild. Her green eyes shone fire, and her skin became pale, like milk. If anything, she just got about ten times more alluiring.

     Her clothing changed, into a form-fitting black dress, with a short skirt, and black tights, blending into black slippers. Around her neck hung a firey green jewel, on a moon-silver chain.

     The word, "breathtaking" doesn't quite describe the effect.
When she's "on duty", as it were, she calls herself Nightwitch, a name she "borrowed from an old friend" .I never got around to asking her who.

     We talked around the subject most important-how this would affect the growing relationship we had.
It wasn't until later that I realized why....we didn't need to.  We both had been lonely for a long time, and were pretty much certain that the magic wouldn't come again. Still, the Lord will give us the desires of our hearts, if we are faithful to Him, and for me, there really wasn't much of earth worth being all that involved with.

     I drove home that night, still breathing in the scent of her hair.



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