Transformations

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this is the beginning of the slowest of all slow burns, that THBGato requested I write. it might take a hundred or more years to complete, but luckily the main character (me) is a witch so that’s only a problem for the unlucky mortals who want to read this

– – sorry ’bout that

many thanks to KN2005 for beta reading and editing

and thanks to DawnDuckie for letting me borrow Jenny and Allie for a minute

Chapter 1: Transformations

I might never have done any of this had I not become a witch. And the reason I became a witch is mostly from boredom; well that mixed with a good dose of curiosity.

You know how they always tell you that curiosity killed the cat; and it’s well known that witches have lots of cats; and that cats have nine lives. But they never tell you why any of that matters.

I was at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire one summer, back in those years when I was going to Drexel, where I met Dawn Magdalena and The Unicorn. I was contemplating the advisability of buying a sword when I noticed her standing behind me. More accurately, I noticed The Unicorn.

“Hey, cool unicorn costume!” I commented.

“It’s not a costume. This is Magdalena”, said the very attractive woman standing next to it.

“You are trying to claim that this is a real unicorn?” I asked skeptically.

“I make no claims. I merely inform you that this is The Unicorn and His name is Magdalena.”

Now this is pretty cool, I thought. Granted, conventional wisdom holds that unicorns are mythical because nobody has proven their existence, but absence of proof is not proof of absence, as we all know. And anyway, this babe was hot, and that alone was good enough reason for me to be interested in furthering our acquaintance. Judging by the way she spoke about the unicorn…. OK, she was judgy.

The decision was made, fuck the sword. I’d much rather fuck this babe.

“Pleased to meet you Magdalena,” I greeted The Unicorn. “I’m Anna. And you are…?”

“Dawn Magdalena,” the hot girl answered.

‘OK, both of you are named Magdalena, should be easy to remember then. Can I buy you a hot chocolate? And a…? What do unicorns like?”

“Corn. I think we should be able to find a corn meal muffin. Yes, that will be a suitable pretense, how about we do that.”

We found a stand with corn bread muffins and hot chocolate, and I was looking around for a place where we could sit, all the while remarking to myself about the remarkability of no one marking the presence of a unicorn in their midst. It was remarkable. The food court was crowded and I didn’t see any unoccupied tables.

“We will sit at that one there, that’s a suitable location.” Dawn Magdalena was pointing to a table where several seeming college students were seated. As she was pointing, they all got up, cleared off the table much more thoroughly than one might expect from college kids, and promptly left.

I looked at her in wonder, “Dude, that was cool! How did you do that?”

“I’m not a dude, I’m a witch. And that was magic, obviously.” She rolled her eyes.

“Right, makes sense, owning a unicorn and all.”

“Own?” she scowled disdainfully. “Don’t be insulting or The Unicorn will own you.”

“I apologize for that,” I said to Magdalena penitently, as we walked to the magically vacated table. “I am unfamiliar with the norms and customs surrounding witches and unicorns. Indeed, I meant no insult.”

“You are pardoned this one time,” The Unicorn did not say, but I did hear.

“And that is precisely the reason why we are here. We’ve come to enroll you in Root Girl training, and we desire for you to spend your next years learning about that, among other things.”

“Why?”

“You have been identified as the next WAWO.”

“Yeah, but no thanks. I have less than zero interest in working at Wawa. Nope.” I tried to put on my icy glare. Now keep in mind that I was young at the time and had not yet perfected that impassive stare for which I would later become renowned. Even if I’d had, I was dealing with a witch and it wouldn’t have worked anyway.

“You misunderstand. I speak not of that gross skanky gas station place, but of a position of supreme importance in our religion. WAWO is an abbreviation for Wise And Wonderful One. But first, you have much to learn.”

“I appreciate your consideration, and I am sure that this is a great honor, but I already have enough to study in college. And, not to be rude, but I am an atheist.”

“It’s not a great honor, it actually really sucks, but it is of supreme importance. And of course I know that you’re going to Drexel and studying industrial design. I’d be a really shitty witch if I didn’t do my homework first.”

“Right. So you want to give me a sucky job. Is it more sucky than working at Wawa? Because why would I work hard to have a sucky WAWO job when I can get a sucky Wawa job without trying?”

“Shut balıkesir escort the fuck up with your lame puns, Anna. So what I want you to do is to read this manuscript,” she handed me a sheaf of old parchment that I swear she was not holding a minute ago. “Then you will know what to do.”

“And what if I choose not to do it?” Did I mention that I was only 19 at the time, and a fool? What incredible hubris, to challenge a 462 year old witch. Admittedly, I didn’t know that at the time, but the mere presence of a unicorn (not to mention The Unicorn), should have given me pause.

“Then I would be wrong, and a shitty witch. I am neither a shitty witch, nor am I wrong.”

And that proved to be true.

We didn’t talk about business any more after that, well other than her telling me the old legends, which I found fascinating. I learned that she lives in Montana, (the one in Bulgaria, not the one in USA), as much as it can be said that a witch who was burned 437 years ago ‘lives’ at all. It was an enjoyable night. The hot chocolate wasn’t that great though, because it was the instant stuff they make out of water and that powder trash, instead of real milk and chocolate.

—-

So obviously I read the manuscript, I entered Root Girl training, became a Medicine Mother, took the name Dawn Ralitsa (in honor of the mother of Dawn Poltava), and am finally achieved the status of Witch. All of that is obvious, because otherwise I wouldn’t be telling this story. My meeting with Dawn Magdalena was 9 years ago, in the year -89476. and I haven’t seen her since.

You all know a good bit of my story from those intervening years, it has been talked about enough. I’ll point out one minor detail, and that is that a certain Carina Marie Delvecchio exaggerates unashamedly whenever she isn’t outright lying. But it suits my purposes to have her promulgate some fictions about me. All of that is pretty mundane sex, BDSM, torture, a few accidental deaths, that sort of thing, and not worth repeating here. And during those years I perfected my stare, of which I am now quite proud.

And then there was the whole getting shoved in the closet thing. And you know what? That really hurt. I was working my ass off, doing everything they wanted, and then they repaid that by stuffing me in a closet and saying “she broke the story arc.” I was devastated.

The circumstances that brought me to Toledo were likewise mundane. I needed a job and they were hiring. And there I met Keisha, who was pivotal in my life. Here I was, a 29 year old jaded witch with blood on her hands, designing fuel tank level transmitters, and thinking there was no more excitement left in life than exploding an occasional building on “Fire and Explosion Day” just for the fun of it. (In case you don’t have the calendar handy, that holiday is on 5 Budding VERDANT). I smiled at that thought; Keisha had once said ‘you can’t just invent a holiday’ and yet that is exactly what happened with Fire and Explosion Day. The daughter of our Web Wench was walking home with her girlfriend from dance practice one afternoon in Reading, and a building they were walking past suddenly exploded and went up in flames. Nobody ever proved, or even found evidence to suggest, that the two of them had anything to do with it, but nevertheless our Web Wench invented a holiday to commemorate the event.

About Keisha: she is young; vibrant; energetic; full of life; full of fun; and firmly believing in Love At First Sight, and True Love, and Happily Ever After. It was (still is) adorable, as was (still is) her story. But she hasn’t got to the good part of her story quite yet, so no spoilers. We became close friends. That was a hard time for me, just recovering from the closet ordeal, and her cheerfulness and optimism got me though many a dreary time when I was tempted just to explode my apartment building and burn down with it. And she had a group of cute friends, all much younger than me, but so entertaining. No, I didn’t have sex with any of them, as everyone already knows, but the change of atmosphere gave me a new appreciation for life.

Thus it was, that I was finally approaching a point where I could accept the concept of love, when I met Angelina. It was at the Center Of The Universe on the Celebration of Ducks, in the year -89467. In other words, a couple of weeks ago. In case you’re not acquainted with the precise Center Of The Universe, it’s location is on Earth, and there was an entertaining row about that some number of years ago. Now it’s obvious that North America is the most important place on this planet, because their dictator is Cheeto. And a town there called Rugby, so named because nobody in the town knows how to play that particular sport, had staked the claim for being the center of North America. And that claim remained unchallenged for 100 years or so. But then they forgot to renew their claim, it expired, and some bartın escort drunks in Robinson recalculated it and determined that the true Center was right on the front step of Hanson’s Bar (which establishment they happened to be in while performing the calculation). The ensuing row drew the attention of the entire galaxy, so Zaphod Beeblebrox commissioned Peter Rogerson to calculate The Center using something more precise than beer and string. But Peter Rogerson merely had to ask Deep Thought, who had designed Earth in the first place. But you all know that part of the story.

The Center Of The Universe (the real one) is a place for witches to gather on important nights, and summer solstice is pretty important. So I was there, Angelina was there, and a handful of tourists were there. The tourists left when it got dark, so when midnight came around it was just the two of us. I’d been led to believe by our Web Wench that this was a well attended ceremony – clearly she is unreliable. Angelina had her rituals, and I had mine, but we were polite and we participated each in the other’s. Thus it was that by sunrise we were, if not friends, at least friendly.

Heading south into town, we found a nice little cemetery where we could get some sleep after having performed our ceremonies all night. Because there is no better place for a pair of witches to sleep than in a cemetery. Up until they start driving lawnmowers around. Both Angelina and I were well supplied with provisions, so we repaired to a local park for a small repast and engaging conversation.

“So how long have you been a witch, Ralitsa?” she asked, chomping on a donut.

“Not long that I have been an actual witch, though I have been studying a number of years.”

She waited patiently for me to continue.

“Indeed, I had no particular desire even to be a witch, nay, not in those early days. Had I foreseen the circumstances which were later to befall me, then no doubt I would have appreciated the wisdom of the advice I received. At the time, I did not. Nevertheless, I adopted that advice, and my training has served me well.”

“It was good advice, then?”

“Not at all, it was terrible advice, but necessary. I followed it only because it was given to me by a four hundred year old witch who had a unicorn with her.”

She nodded sagely, “Terrible advice is good for terrible times.”

“Aye, that it is.”

I finished my carrot and washed it down with a swig of Voodoo Juice. “And you? How long?”

“My entirely life, essentially. I was born into it, going back hundreds of generations. If we recognized the concept of royalty, then I would be it. My name is not Angelina, I use that because nobody can pronounce my name, Tlazolteotl. I am named for the goddess of love and filth. It is a powerful name.

“My people came to this land 50,000 years ago – as an aside, anthropologists don’t believe that, because they say they can find no evidence; but we did not leave any evidence for them to find.

“Others have followed behind us, but we were the first. We were never very many, but we built all the sacred places. And I visit them and I restore their strength. That is my responsibility. And you, Ralitsa, what is your responsibility?”

“To tell the stories,” I answered her. “To tell the stories of the witches, to remember our mothers that they will not be forgotten. To tell our daughters about us.”

Angelina studied me for a long time. “Then you must be wise. Listen, and I shall give you many stories for you to carry.”

We talked for many hours, she told me of The Old Ones, of the Olmec, of those who came before. I asked questions, and she explained. Long into the evening we talked. And when it was dark, finally she stood and kissed me.

“It is good for you to know these things, to carry them to our daughters. It is time now for me to go.”

She walked westward across the prairie and was gone.

—–

As I rode the Empire Builder east, I reflected on the things that I had learned. And it struck me how shallow and silly it is to name a train “Empire Builder.” How ignorant and arrogant of settlers to pretend that they are discovering a New World. I thought of earlier empires who had thought the same things, empires from ten thousand years ago who had lived for thousands of years. And the words returned to my memory “-on dune and headland sinks the fire, lo all our pomp of yesterday is one with Nineveh and Tyre, lord god of hosts be with us yet, lest we forget, lest we forget.”

—–

When I got back home I learned about Keisha’s ‘Cruella Problem.’ Everyone knows her side of that story, so I’ll tell you what it looked like from my side.

It was not unusual for us to hang out and watch a movie together on a Saturday night, but it was a bit unusual for a Monday night. Keisha had mentioned that ‘some friends’ were stopping by to visit on their way batman escort from South Bend to their home in Ohio. It doesn’t require a genius, nor a witch, nor The Unicorn to take the square root of -1 and know that we will soon be at right angles to reality. And by normal, I mean it won’t be.

So I was not exactly surprised that Keisha kissed me and called me her girlfriend the instant she opened the door. Nor was I surprised to have my suspicions confirmed when she introduced me to Kate. Nor was I surprised that Kate was being an utter twat. Nor was I surprised that Amelia was pretending that it was not happening. Nor was I surprised when Keisha essentially begged me to rescue her.

So I did.

I took Kate home with me and I dealt with her. Following is the story of how she was dealt with.

After I had her installed in a comfortable recliner with a glass of lemonade, I began her treatment. “Kate, you have been behaving atrociously ever since you broke up with Caroline on May 27th of 2023. Are you prepared yet to acknowledge the truth of that to yourself?”

“What the fuck!?!? How do you know about Caroline? Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Kate, I will not allow you to harm Keisha, and I will not allow you to harm Caroline. But if you choose to harm yourself, I cannot stop you. Please, consider your behaviour.”

“You’re a psycho-bitch, do you know that? Who the fuck are you?”

“We shall meditate then, until you are prepared to address the truth.”

I then took all my clothes off, lit the candles and the incense, and took up my meditations on the rug in the middle of the floor. Kate, meanwhile, muttered, cussed, stomped around, drank 2 bottles of wine that were in my fridge, and then passed out on my couch.

Next morning I woke her up by serving her a generous helping of Jimmy Buffett at 0500, along with my no-need-to-be-patented-remedy-for-cunts.

“It’s revile’, child,” I yelled compassionately into her ear as I gently dumped a glass of ice water onto her face.

“Fuck! Shit! What the fuck!” she stuttered and stammered.

A mere two bottles of wine really is not enough to cause Kate any serious impediment, so I had no immediate concerns for her well being.

“Now Cruella, please to come through to the kitchen where I have your breakfast awaiting.”

As she sat down to a satisfying repast of omelet, Wisconsin potatoes, apple pie, and Kahlua with coffee, I explained to her the situation.

“Cruella, dearest, you are making nobody happy, least of all yourself. It is my sincere desire to help you, and I can, but first you must agree to help yourself. Yes?”

“Sure, yeah. What I’m gonna do is help myself to more of these potatoes, these are fuckin’ awesome!”

“Of course they are, as is everything that I do. Are you prepared to let yourself be happy?”

“I’m already perfectly happy. How come you’re running around naked, anyway?”

“I am not wearing clothes because it is not necessary for me to hide who I am. If in fact you were ‘perfectly happy’ then neither would it be necessary for you to wear clothes. But you are still hiding from what you want.”

“Who the fuck are you anyway, and what do you know about what I want?”

“I am… many things, actually, but the one most relevant to the current conversation is that I am a witch. But more importantly, a friend of Magdalena – which explains why I am privy to information you thought peculiar to yourself.”

“You are seriously fucked up, you know that?”

“I do know that. And I know also that you are seriously fucked up. But luckily for you, I can help. All you need to do is recognize that your anxiety stems from your refusal to admit that you are in love with Caroline.”

“What the fuck bitch! Why do you keep bringing her up?”

“Do you need a bit more Kahlua and coffee? It looks like you could use a refill.”

As I refilled her cup, I explained.

“Of course you remember the movie that came out a few years ago called Back to the Future, and it’s several sequels. That isn’t entirely wrong. You have multiple future paths, each contingent upon decisions you will make before noon today. I can give you guidance, but only you can choose the path to your future.”

“What’s with you? Are you fuckin’ Yoda now?”

“No, I am not, but I would not rule that out as a possibility for the future. Yoda, is kinda hot, I would totally fuck him if I had that chance.”

Kate busted up laughing and splatted a quite embarrassing assortment of spittle, omelet bits, potato and apple pie all over my cupboards.

“Now Kate, while you contemplate what I have told you, finish your breakfast, and clean my kitchen of… that…” I crinkled my nose and indicated my offended cabinetry, “I will be performing my morning Thanking Of The Sun Ritual.” So saying, I proceeded to my balcony.

Some time later I was joined by Kate, who also had divested herself of all clothing.

“So Anna, you’re totally a psycho bitch and I can’t figure out how you know all that shit, but you’re right. And I could… I know I could argue with you about it all day but you wouldn’t even begin to believe me, no matter what I say. And I don’t believe it either. Anyway, so now what?”