Fea World part 1
When I was a kid I blamed my condition on an over-active imagination and too many movies, or at least that's what I heard adults say. When I became a teen I used drugs to dull the way I saw world. Sometimes I could blame it on the LSD or mushrooms, pretending the things I saw weren't real. I looked for new ways to numb my mind of the creatures that only I was able to see. Now I'm an adult and I know what I see is real, but not what any of it means, or why me. I see Fae, elves, goblins, what have you. I know they are Fae because one of them told me. A goblin to be exact. His sarcastic icy comments still freeze a part of my soul and I'm not likely to forget. It was my 21st birthday and the last day I did drugs trying to pretend they didn't exist. One in a billion and you're pissing it away, maybe I should help you empty your head and let the gift go to another," he said. That wasn't what scared me though, okay it was but what else he said he would do if I disrespected his existence again is what stuck with me. What can I say, when a goblin gives you a warning, you remember it like your life depends on it. That was the first and last time any of them had spoken to me and that was almost a year ago. For the most part, Fae don't want anything to do with out world. It's boring and doesn't have anything they need. I get the feeling Earth is like summing for them. I still see them, mostly in the forests when I go hiking, but sometimes also in the city when I visit. Prowling alleys and even public places without anybody being the wiser, except me, of course. I'm pretty sure they let me see them, that they could hide from me too if they wanted to but for some reason they let me see them. It wasn't until I found the book that I realized I had the power to go to them. The book is ancient looking; I had found it in a used bookstore in the city. A number of trolls were loitering outside the store so I decided to go check it out. I usually didn't like to get to close to trolls as they are truly frightening but my curiosity got the better of me. The cover of the book was both rough and smooth, the leathery hide that bound it was well oiled. It didn't have a price tag on it and the owner looked surprised and unsure when I dropped it on the counter next to the pile of fiction books he was sorting through. He seemed happy to see it go, if they look of disgust he gave the book could be called happiness. The book had a large number of spells and potions in it. Having always been fascinated with that sort of thing, I was excited when I found a spell titled Enter The Fae World. The small nagging thought you usually get with these sorts of things was still there even though this book looked older and more unusual than the others I'd seen. The thought that said, there's no way this could be real, that it will end in disappointment and you'll feel like a fool for having believed. Something felt different this time though, and since I know Fae are real, I know witchcraft must be real also. I'm sure my plan to use the spell to enter the world of the Fae would be considered a bad idea by most, down right stupid and suicidal by others. I'm okay with that, I have to see it for myself. I had gathered all the ingredients and put them in my backpack with the book. Halloween was drawing closer as was my birthday, with was the day after Halloween, technically a few hours after. I planned to do the spell on Halloween, as that-- just felt right. How the book ended up in the bookstore is a mystery. People lose interest in books all the time, but not this book. I've only had it a short while and I know the power it holds, and I'm not even talking about the spells written within it's pages. The book itself has a sort of power. It shows up in dreams, ends up in coat pockets I don't remember putting it in, waits on my reading table, again without me remembering putting it there. I should be unnerved by that but it doesn't bother me at all. This morning, however, was all the proof that even a skeptic needed. I had gone to the diner in town for breakfast. I usually didn't indulge in such things but I found a 50 dollar bill laying on the sidewalk the day before and decided to treat myself. I know, what are the odds? Maybe with what's leftover I'd go buy some socks without holes in them. A group of young men had come in taking the booth behind me, making more noise than was polite and being general rebel rousers. I sat with my back to them, ignoring their antics and comments until one of them decided to reach around the side of the booth to where my backpack rested on the seat beside me. I was as surprised as he was when a flash of light shot into his hand. The jolt was so strong that the youth shot straight up out of his seat, feet not touching the floor until he landed next to booth behind his. He held up his hand, his fingernails were almost completely black, his arm hair singed and the smoke wafted from the cuff of his rolled up shirt sleeve. I could smell burning hair and other body parts. His damn bag is booby trapped. Look what he did to me!" he said, eyes wide fear turning now to anger. I sat, slowing chewing my food, caught up in my own moment of surprise, too stunned to speak. I looked at the delinquent with his smoldering shirt and scorched fingernails, back to the backpack which wasn't even open. The diner was small, the waitress who had been flirting with a man at the counter gave the youth an irritated glare, What's going on over there? You better not be smoking in here." One of the punks friends cackled nervously at the mention of smoking. The would be thief took a quick step over to him and smacked him in the back of the head. Unfortunately it was with his burnt hand and the result was an ear splitting howl which really got the waitresses attention. Look what he did to my hand," he held up his blackened digits. The waitress looked my way, I shrugged, I've never been much for dialog. She turned back to our crispy thief, his friends took up a chorus for his justice. As far as I can see, he's just sitting there, eating breakfast. What the hell are you kids up to? Don't make me call the cops." Come on let's jet before they call the cops," one of them said. But the thief still had something to prove. Obviously not seeing it as his fault that he got hurt while he tried to steal my bag. Thrusting his chest out in the typical teenage jock gone bad boy move he lifted his chin and sauntered over. Which was quite a sight as he held his wounded hand a foot away from his body about hip height, ruining the intimidating look he was going for. The first step past his own booth I heard rather than saw something happening. As the youth leaned forward, I saw all the hair on his head stand up. There was a loud pop of discharged static electricity and a flash of spark arcing from his gold earing. Hey you don't have a tazer over there do ya?" the waitress demanded craning her neck to get a better look without leaving her stool. No ma'am," I said. To the youths credit, he backed off at that point, he and his friends made a less than stealthy getaway. I opened the backpack, the book looked the same as it had before. I stuck my hand in feeling the cover, rough in some places, smooth and worn in others. A feeling of calm came over me as I touched it. I knew then that it was the book that had defended itself form being stolen by the punk.The book approved of me for some strange reason, although not much else in life did.