The History of Dora January, Part Three:

Adulthood
They met at the far end of the garden, and the geese learned to tolerate him. He brought little bits of the world to Dora - comic books, candy bars, playing cards that made her laugh when they dealt hands of rummy. She sang the songs she learned when he brought a portable radio so she could hear music that she didn't play on a gramophone.
She gave him a bag of herbs to leave in an enemy's car - and the enemy troubled him no more. She told him of dreams she had, and events that came true, visions of a world she didn't even know through television--
And she gave him roses for his mother, until neither the doctors or her witchcraft could keep her alive any more.
Jean Paul ran to her on that day and cried out his pain, until she kissed his tears away, and tears became something more.
And more, until Jean-Paul came to her and said, "I'm going away."
Dora stood and waited for him to say, "And I want you to come."
"I've never been anywhere but here."
"Yes, but we can go. Anywhere. We can go to France, Europe, America. We will live in a penthouse in the stars and the maid can pick up our socks--I'm rich, Dora."
"The sun will set soon, Jean-Paul."
"Tell me you'll come, Dora."
"There's no time."
"I love you."
"I have to think, Jean-Paul. Let me?" she smiled, caressed his face. "You have to go."
Her kissed her hard, and left.
Dora watched him until he was out of sight. Then she hurried inside to bathe and dot her skin with attar of roses before returning to the garden, watching a grinning moonrise in the purpling sky.
"Good evening, Ekhart," Dora said.
"Good evening, my jewel of the night," the shadows said, and lips brushed her neck.
Dora tilted her head, stepped out of the shadow's embrace. "Will you go to Tante Amelie?"
"No."
"Tante Odile?"
"No," the shadow chuckled.
"Tante Jeanette?"
"No. I come to you, Dora. You enchant me."
"They miss you."
"They will forget." The shadow played over the waist of her gown.
"They will never forget. They still wait. They did so much for you."
"They did the very best thing for me. Do you know what that is?"
"No."
"They brought me you," he crooned, and the shadow melted into silver skin and pale eyes, a long sharp smile in spikes of black hair, and Ekhart crushed her to him, her heartbeat pounding without echo against his chest. "You, my jewel. You see. You know. Not like them. Not like anyo--"
Dora leaned back from his arms.
"Who is he?"
"Who?" Dora asked.
"Your lover."
"My what?"
"You cannot lie to me, my jewel. Your lover. The one who put that baby in your belly. Who is he?"
"I don't--" Dora yanked her arms away, but the vampire held her, tight enough to bruise, tight as a scream.
"You have," Ekhart breathed, "two heartbeats, my jewel, my Adora. Tell me his name, and I won't kill him."
"You won't?"
"I swear," he promised, eyes twinkling.
"He'll be going away soon," Dora said. "He doesn't like the town. He wants to live in a city. He asked me to come... I'll tell him no," she promised. "He'll leave without me."
"Tell me his name, Adora."
She took a breath, and whispered, "Jean-Paul Jardinier."
"I can't tell you what your obedience means to me," Ekhart said, and drained her body with a kiss.


Continue with The History of Dora January, Part Four

Because One Should Never Leave Business Unfinished When the End of the World is Nigh

I love you.

Dumbfounded

staying up all night, I decided to drift over to boards and forums I never bother with anymore, and found this lovely little gem on a Wicca forum:

"It's just as wrong to perform acts of magick (note the k, folks! cp) to point the universe towards favoring the presidential candidate you want to win as it is to perform acts of magick that hinder the presidential candidate you don't want."

Well thank you, FluffyBunny StormChild. If "Magick is the Art and Science of causing changes to occur in conformity with Will," then I guess it's wrong for magicians to VOTE, eh?

Twit.

(slams a copy of Magick in Theory and Practice on fluffybunny's head - because where there's no sense, there's no feeling!)