Date: Sun, 14 Dec 1997 15:36:33 -0500 From: "Donna M. Buschmeier" Subject: INT: Emjays - A Dose of Magic Sitting in the multi-colored tent that she had recently erected next to a tree somewhere on the vast grounds of the realm called WRITERS, The Lady In Black tapped her foot slowly against the dirt floor. She was bored. So incredibly bored. The land had been but a veritable wasteland for days. Aside from a bit of campaigning for list flirt, there had been very little activity from all factions. Indeed, even her loyal hound Percival had been lulled into a docile state. He now lay at her feet, tongue lolling, red eyes glazed over with inactivity. Niniane patted the large beast's head soothingly. "There, there," she soothed him, "something exciting will happen soon... you'll see." Percival raised his huge head and surveyed her with a dubious look. "Or... maybe it won't," she added, rising to her feet. "Unless we MAKE something happen." Winter Solstice was but a few days away. Why not begin celebrating it now? she wondered. Shedding her voluminous black cloak, she moved toward the fire that she kept perpetually burning. Sitting down crossed-legged before it, she pushed her long, dark hair out of her brown eyes and gazed deeply into the gyrating flames. And she began to recite the words that had been passed down to her from the centuries: "Actos... fui ta.. nathrak... heitos... actos... mis ta... nathrak.. leitos..." The fire began to shimmer; the flames began to dance more violently, thrashing against the warming air. Over and over again, Niniane repeated the words, in a low, throaty voice... words born of a tongue long forgotten. "For you, friends," she murmured, staring into the flickering flames as if hypnotized, "I send gifts..." For poor broken Dustin, lying prone, smoking dried weeds to ease his pain, she sent a spell of healing. "It will not last long, for my spells are not quite that everlasting... but for the briefest of moments, you will forget your aches... forget your worries... and feel only the warmth of an unseen lover's embrace..." For Barbara/Hagatha/Bunny, fair mistress of the Haven, she conjured up a special package. Once opened, the wooden box would reveal a gown more lovely than most eyes could bear... in whatever style, color, or design that the recipient so desired. "For one night, you shall be queen of your castle... and all shall look upon you with an envy surpassed only by their own awe..." For the old Celtic poet, she created a pewter teapot, one that would supply endless cups of smooth tea, brewed to perfection. "Enjoy this well, old poet, for it will last but one day... but what a day it will be... to feel the sweet elixir of your favorite brew sliding down your throat in satin rivulets of warm satisfaction." For sweet young Robyn, who she knew would not hear her for her grief had taken her away, she sent a spell of comfort, one that would soothe her troubled thoughts and steady her aching heart, at least for a little while. For Gary, list-flirt-campaigner-extraordinaire, she cast a spell of acceleration. Soon, the counter on his campaign webpage would begin to spin madly as it sought to keep track of the frantic pace at which votes were flooding in. "There are no guarantees that this tally will last until the ballots have been counted... but if you wish hard enough, anything... anything at all... can become so..." For LL, poetess, word-weaver, she spun her own thoughts into a curious shape... a pen and notepad constructed entirely of chocolate, a very special chocolate that contained no calories, no fat...yet tasted just as good as anything even the Swiss might produce.. "Nibble on this, whenever it all becomes too much for you, whenever you need to disappear into the seductive hold of sweet confections... for a single day of your choosing, it will always replenish itself." By this time, The Lady In Black was very tired. Her eyes were burning from the smoke of the fire. She closed them, and bowed her head. For now, she needed to rest, to wait a while for her strength to return. Percival walked over to her and placed his massive head in her lap. His great tongue darted out from between his powerful jaws to lap at her hand. "It's all right, dear-heart," she told him, scratching the black hound behind the ears. "I just need to rest for a while. There is still so much more to do... So many more gifts to distribute..." **************************************************************************** Donna M. Buschmeier work email: http://www.geocities.com/Athens/5208/index.html http://members.tripod.com/~ninianne/index.html %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% "We chase misprinted lies... We face the path of time... And yet I fight... And yet I fight... This battle all alone... No one to cry to... No place to call home..." -- Alice In Chains "Nutshell" %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% Blatant Self-Promo: Vote for my poetry at The Poet's Park http://turnersaith.com/cyberhawk/poets/poets.html ***************************************************************************