Friday, July 05, 2002
The Wonder Of Magic
Oh, they said that they cast spells, they said that they read tarot, they say all sorts of things. She knows, of course, that they aren't lying but merely exaggerating their talents. Was she guilty of such a crime? No, says Black Jacket, you are not guilty of such things. You know they are. You have wisdom that they could never posess. She feels that Black Jacket is only being nice. Never mind that in cemetaries, she is what Black Jacket calls a "ghostwalker"--a person who feels the spirits around them, a person who by luck or grace has earned the respect of ghosts unrelated to her, a person who is protected by their supernatural state. No, she is merely exaggerating when she stepped onto the sand of the abandoned beach and stared at the majestic cliff and thought she felt the presence of a person that was invisible but not a ghost. All of this was in her head. Of course, she had wished hard times for the person who owed her lots of money. And he did have hard times. Yeah, when she felt bad about it and wished he had good luck, and he did, that was merely coincidence as well. Never mind that on a night when she'd had too much to drink and left the bar, someone walked her to a friend's house, someone she knew well, someone she felt comfortable enough to walk with and knew where to take her. Never mind that no one saw her in those fifteen minutes that she vaguely remembers or that she had been alone. I was there, Black Jacket says, you have a habit of throwing caution to the wind, child. You know so much yet you still have to learn. You have to learn that you're only alone when you want to be. We're here, everywhere, around you. We will always be here. She wants to know more about Black Jacket. She wants to see his face...see what he looks like. He only shows her his long black jacket. He has always been there, for as long as she could remember. But he's not like ghosts...that's what confuses her. He is of a different time but something places him outside of this planet. He isn't natural to humanhood. There's something about him that reveals a very different way of thinking, of expressing emotion, of living life. He is a curious person, as if every human is a study on what humanness is like. But then he says and does very human things. He is invisible like the ghosts, unless the shades and shadows of darkness reveal the outline of his jacket. He startled her once, when she sat near a window, intent in writing, and she saw his jacket. It really was black. That was the only time she had been allowed to see him in light. He had tapped on the glass. She closes her eyes at night and thinks, when do I get to see who you are? Why must it only be me...
Oh, they said that they cast spells, they said that they read tarot, they say all sorts of things. She knows, of course, that they aren't lying but merely exaggerating their talents. Was she guilty of such a crime? No, says Black Jacket, you are not guilty of such things. You know they are. You have wisdom that they could never posess. She feels that Black Jacket is only being nice. Never mind that in cemetaries, she is what Black Jacket calls a "ghostwalker"--a person who feels the spirits around them, a person who by luck or grace has earned the respect of ghosts unrelated to her, a person who is protected by their supernatural state. No, she is merely exaggerating when she stepped onto the sand of the abandoned beach and stared at the majestic cliff and thought she felt the presence of a person that was invisible but not a ghost. All of this was in her head. Of course, she had wished hard times for the person who owed her lots of money. And he did have hard times. Yeah, when she felt bad about it and wished he had good luck, and he did, that was merely coincidence as well. Never mind that on a night when she'd had too much to drink and left the bar, someone walked her to a friend's house, someone she knew well, someone she felt comfortable enough to walk with and knew where to take her. Never mind that no one saw her in those fifteen minutes that she vaguely remembers or that she had been alone. I was there, Black Jacket says, you have a habit of throwing caution to the wind, child. You know so much yet you still have to learn. You have to learn that you're only alone when you want to be. We're here, everywhere, around you. We will always be here. She wants to know more about Black Jacket. She wants to see his face...see what he looks like. He only shows her his long black jacket. He has always been there, for as long as she could remember. But he's not like ghosts...that's what confuses her. He is of a different time but something places him outside of this planet. He isn't natural to humanhood. There's something about him that reveals a very different way of thinking, of expressing emotion, of living life. He is a curious person, as if every human is a study on what humanness is like. But then he says and does very human things. He is invisible like the ghosts, unless the shades and shadows of darkness reveal the outline of his jacket. He startled her once, when she sat near a window, intent in writing, and she saw his jacket. It really was black. That was the only time she had been allowed to see him in light. He had tapped on the glass. She closes her eyes at night and thinks, when do I get to see who you are? Why must it only be me...
# posted by Crazy Girl @ 20:15 
