Do you see what I see?

pro·tec·tion [prə tékshən](plural pro·tec·tions)
n
safeguarding of somebody or something: the act of preventing somebody or something from being harmed or damaged, or the state of being kept safe


pro·jec·tion [prə jékshən](plural pro·jec·tions)
n
unconscious transfer of feeling: the unconscious ascription of a personal thought, feeling, or impulse, especially one considered undesirable, to somebody else


Smudging.

A smoke clears the hallway.

It filters through the walls.

Warms the home.

Drives them away.

Bare feet sneak over wooden floors, pairs of them slip through the house during a quiet afternoon. An experienced eye follows the tested, a ritual movement - a complacent an resigned structure. She went through the process of circles again. This time they didn’t close at the beginning, but swirled and swirled about the room until they came to a crux in the middle of the room.

This wasn’t North. East. South, or West. This was center.

At the heart of the matter.

No wonder they had such power with in them, these fragile little organs, they had to pump the energy of the body to it’s extremities. This was how she saw her abilities working, how the tingling sensation climbed her spine and lent a clear and focused motion.

“From the Element of Fire
Comes this smoke, which is Air.
From the Element of Earth
Grows this plant, which is Water.
I call upon the Elements and the Blessings of Spirit
To please cleanse this house.
For the good of all.”

A pool of money had ensured that their circle was closed. That they were able to step into the protection of it at any time they chose. Hana worked the cleansing in every room of the house while Arabella did the outside. It was a leafier part of Scottsdale, one near the park in Old Town. They both loved this area for it’s natural sculpting. As much as they could agree that it was man made and the nature within had been spade and neutered, Hana believed that it was an act of contrition - the consumption of man was a difficult trend to stay ahead of.

Man was such an unpredictable creature.

This was why the majority of it’s creations were unworkable, often left behind as useless. Forgotten for updated versions. The trend took another turn. Sweet smoke of the grass burning was a comfort to her though and even though the dried edges were sharp enough to prod against fragile skin they could not break it. Another imagined reminder of the frailty of it. She would only remember this lesson when it was too late. For now the pair of them and others included were so swept up in idealism that the perfunctory vision was an unworthy sketch to the end dream of art they aimed for.

For now she went inch by inch. Division by division.

Another foot.

Another meter.

Another room.

Entire was a word too big if you looked at it from the ass end up.

So she didn’t.

Hana took the time to compartmentalize realizations and hide them away for later judgment. In the years to follow, she would certainly rehash this moment for joy of it, for remembrance.

The beginning of their circle.

Why was it that the beginning was so easy. Again with the roundness. Again with the never ending.

Everything else in between? A harrowing darkness that even a bolt of lightning couldn’t illuminate. Not even for a second.

Do you hear what I hear?

in·fec·tion [in fékshən](plural in·fec·tions)
n
state of being infected: the reproduction and proliferation of micro-organisms within the body


di·rec·tion [di rékshən, dī rékshən]
n (plural di·rec·tions)
development: the way in which something develops


This was the way that life went.

The bulk of the center wasn’t something that people often visited. They knew it existed, but the never wanted to see it. Like all the shirts and pairs of pants with the magical ‘tummy tucking’ cloth. Nothing more than spandex and elastic. Could it hold you together when your insides were spilling out? When the depth of your actions was a knife in your gut and the pain of it was real? Cotton does not absorb all that well. It doesn’t take the pain away either.

Spandex? Pretty much a useless piece of shit.

“Sew your fortunes on a string
And hold them up to light
Blue smoke will take
A very violent flight
And you will be changed.”

The deed was done, she stood now in the back of the kitchen with a sink full of dishes at hip level and her eyes gone out the window. Imagination riding them, taking them through the visions of the plural perfection that the group had dreamed. Was it a vision? Could she see how the lingering after affects of their joint efforts were going to explode?

They were the C4.

She was the spark.

Good thing her hands were in the water now. A warm and damp reminder of the earthly presence, a grouping of molecules rubbing together. Laws intervening when required. Like gravity, for example. The beginning of this circle? Her elbow. The end? The floor.

The meat of it?

Matthew came in with that look in his eyes and her heart leaped.

The chain reaction lifted her eyes from the window as his foot stepped upon that familiar whiny piece of floor board. Elbow up, glass down. Floor pounds it to dust? Many people think that it’s the glasses fault, but they forget that it was pushed. Could he be her elbow? It felt like this from time to time.

“Leave the dishes to be done.” He said with that warmth and direction that made her forget all about cause and effect. Another dangerous path between the shadows and light. Which way was he going to force her to go.. Or was it a choice?

Hana smiled indirectly as his hands steadied her shoulders. Was this happiness?

Do you know what I know?

sys·tem·ic [si stémmik]
adj
affecting whole body: affecting the whole body, as distinct from having a local effect


se·lec·tion [sə léksh'n](plural se·lec·tions)
n
available choice: the range from which somebody or something can be selected

You could never think that the hurt of rejection could exist before the anger that you feel over being rejected. Yet some how she had known it was coming. As much as she wanted to hurt him she wasn’t able to. The clock on the wall continued, it’s hands counted for her so she could fly away..

Far away.

The house was once their story. Their glory.

A place of refuge where they could be themselves.

That was the problem though. Too heady was that action.

Too selfish they became.

Engrossed in things that were far beyond their ability to control.

Maybe it was this that caused others to want to harm them. It had certainly caused them to harm one another.

If she couldn’t understand, how could they expect another without any occult history or experience do the same?

It was undeniable. How the wool had effectively been pulled over her eyes. It was like swimming in the shadows of the circle. Closed off, the exits were all too smooth to open, too comfortably molded into a roundness, never ending.

She lay upon the bed with the pillow over her face. Attempting to forget.

Forget.

Wipe away.

Trick her mind into erasing.

Ensconced by arms that are strong you become paranoid that they are holding you there for a reason. Hana denied it for the longest time until the blatant proof was apparent.

He was jealous of her.

Jealous of her power over his. How she knew things and was able to move forward with more strength than he.

This is one of those times that are never good to remember. When things go wrong, you try and learn from them, find the rout of the problem. To solve it.

But she hadn’t wanted to solve it.

She had wanted it to go away. Wanted him to go away.

And he had.

Months later Arabella moved out, much too consumed to remain in the house. Hana was the only one who stuck it out long enough after Matthews disappearance. Two years later the house they had all bought was taken off the market and sold for fifty grand less than the asking price.

The realtor had a fit.

But she was happy.

Hana was free.

Listen to what I say!

au·da·cious [aw dáyshəss]
adj
daring: bold, daring, or fearless, especially in challenging assumptions or conventions


ter·mi·na·tion [tùrmə náysh'n](plural ter·mi·na·tions)
n
ending of something: the process of bringing something to an end or of being brought to an end, or an instance of this


An alternate path. A passage between the light and the darkness we often refer to them as shadows. We don’t always begin with the end but in some situations you require the knowledge to come round to the beginning. It was why the circle was her very favorite shape. Round, endless, consuming, restricting, ensnaring. Slaving ever onwards; continuous.

Wasn’t hard to keep that in mind when you knew that everything is energy. Everything was made up of smaller pieces of a whole. We were not separate, but a depiction of our combined illusions. A reality pooled together by a whole of parts, a sum of wills - idealism? She liked to think of it as an enjoyable collective consciousness. The thing people had to remember was that with this inherent ability, after the studying, after the practices and failed attempts we are still humans too.

See what I mean about shadows?

We are neither strong enough to cast them, nor made of enough power to dispel it completely.. Not that it should be done. Anything that upsets the balance will eventually come round to topple on your head. It may mean you get hit with something the size of an acorn but the ripples of this action reverberate beyond your enclosed reality.

From shadows, to circles. What’s in between?

You’ll have to start at the beginning then.


A dresser drawer remained upon the floor. Wooden and rubbed raw, Hana couldn’t help but identify with it. A listless thing without a purpose. She’d felt like that before, never whole until she’d been rejoined with her version of a dresser. The place where everything was put away, where it fit. A thing which within it lay a million colours of chaos. A bright wrinkling orange that would expand across the sky or a dark green which would envelope you with it’s woolen warmth. Dressers were full of drawers and in them these shirts and sweaters much akin to people. Sometimes you only wore them once or twice, some were your favorite and you wore them until they needed washing.

Round and round that went, until the material of either the person or the shirt was worn out. Typically it was then that the newest colour caught your eye. It would often fit better as well. Who needs worn things anyway? Not a full set of drawers.

But hers were empty.

And the things that had kept her warm and sunny were gone too.

Another chafing at the sore of repetition.

Circles, shadows, and chest of drawers.

She didn’t honestly think that they could embody death and destruction, a coiling snake constricting to intake the body of it’s prey. Yet, swallowed again by the darkness of uncertainty - and those favorites that she’d worn out? The ones that you were supposed to throw away? They lay in boxes, in storage. Much like coffins in a grave yard. Hana visited their memories often but couldn’t dust off their boxes and bring them out to play. Stuffing another miscellaneous piece from the now nearly emptied room into a black gym bag she stood and looked about the room with a curious longing. Golden eyes slipped shut and the muscles of a slender abdomen worked to exhale another even breath. In her mind’s eye she could envision what this room looked like a year or more ago. When it had been teaming with life and function, an alter to the left side where it could face the window and a set of comfortable chairs directly opposite it. The glade of flowers beyond the glass of the window she stood facing now would have just been visible from the arm of one of the over stuffed and oddly comfortable chairs. They used to sit beneath the shadow of an enormous bookshelf. It’s levels were once filled with pages of knowledge, a culmination of the only morally successful coven she’d ever been involved in.

Now the Path that she had followed? The once easy line to walk?

All gone, in boxes like her clothes, those these were with their makers in the ground. Emptied husks. Traces of their souls gone. Some believed they had ascended to heaven. Hana knew the truth.

She knew where they resided now.

Not in boxes, or in the ground.

More dark shadowy circles to shed light upon.

If one were able.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!