The Witch's Diary

by Rebecca Brae

This is going to be a lot of work. I asked if anyone minded if I called in friends to help and there were no objections. I think Peuturella smoothed the way. She got along so well with everyone and helped perfect the salve for Tim. He said his skin has never been so pain free. We were all sad to see her go.

  I wrote up invitations for some of my old classmates (including Magda, of course) and a few co-workers I got along with. I’ll ask my air elementals to make the deliveries tomorrow. I’m not sure how many will be able to come or for how long, but I figure it’s worth a try. It will also help test out my other new idea: Can I market the carnival as a vacation destination for folks from my home plane?

  I’ve been mulling it over for a few days, and I think it’s possible. Peuturella had a fantastic time terrifying people in the House of Horrors. Imagine the fun she could have if the whole carnival was one big scare! We could certainly offer more interesting activities than Hawaii did for Althea on her vacation. That sounded like a total snore-fest.

  Not only would bringing in extraplanar guests be a boon to the carnival, as they would pay for the experience, it would also provide our customers with a rotation of new and exciting creatures and frights. The possibilities are endless.

  And . . . if that works out, I’ve also considered opening up a few training / practicum placements for Grimoire College students. The Outerplane offers unique magickal challenges and learning experiences. The carnival is the perfect place for Apprentice witches to test their talents without the ever-present worry of accidently doing something permanently fatal (as my half-phoenix incident could so easily have been). They would have to stretch their talents, innovate, and master their connection to all the elements. It would be an incredibly ambitious apprenticeship.

  To ascertain whether the practicum idea is feasible, I’ve invited Ouleah to come and see the carnival for herself. Getting approved as a practicum placement with Grimoire College will only be possible if my job can be accredited by the union. I haven’t heard anything about that yet, so I’m hoping my initiative will spur the union into action, one way or the other. Sigh. Guess I’m back to biting my nails about that again. My life has more ups and downs than the bloody Ferris Wheel.

  If I run into trouble with the union or college, I’m sure Peuturella will back me. She’s a tenured Grimoire professor and an Elder WU member. Her opinion holds weight. I won’t say I have a good feeling about my plans, because that never works out, but I will say I’m cautiously optimistic.

  I’m bursting at the seams with nervous anticipation. Of course, that could also be because Sam made his famous five-layer chocolate cake for our group meeting. I’m not usually fond of sweets, but he slathers each layer with thick cream and sour cherries. The combination is irresistible.

  The meeting eventually wound down and people headed off to plan their new acts. Sam and I stayed by the campfire, chatting and drinking a relaxing tea made from the fresh mint, chamomile, and lavender I found at a local farmers market. We drank a fair amount of mead during the meeting, so I figured we’d better switch to something non-alcoholic for our next conversation.

  I’ve never been great at casually bringing things up. Whenever I try, it goes weird, like the time I tried to hint that a fellow patron at The Resplendent Toad was interested in Magda. I must have accidently cast a hex because when I whispered that he was gagging for her, he suddenly turned blue and choked to death. Well, not quite to death. We managed to dislodge the ghoul eye he had inhaled and revive him. Still, it did kill the mood. He was much less romantically inclined after that.

  I decided to be direct with Sam and told him that I’d come into some unexpected funds and wanted to pay off a chunk of the carnival’s loan.

  He was shocked and hesitant, perhaps a bit suspicious, but there was no turning blue and dying, so I’d call it a win. His main concern was what I expected. He thought I wanted to run the carnival, to which I replied, “Hel’s no.” We discussed amounts for a while. He went back to his trailer and retrieved a book crammed with columns of figures. Bob was off somewhere, but I sure wish he had been there. At least he might have understood the numbers and terms Sam threw around. It was hard to contain my horror when he started talking about drawing up some kind of Infernal contract to outline a schedule of repayment and default terms. I assured him no such atrocity was necessary, but that made him even more uncomfortable. He said it was too much money to accept as a gift.

  I hadn’t intended it to sound like a gift, but in retrospect I can see how it might be construed that way. Ensuring my own job security was my main concern. I told him as much, but it did little to dissuade him from promising to set up a monthly repayment scheme. In the end, I gave in and agreed. If that’s the only way it’ll work for him, then so be it. I’ll use the extra coin to spruce up the H of H, which will benefit everyone.

  Despite his initial concern, I could tell he was relieved to get the aggressive broker off his back. It was heartening to know he felt better owing me, because it showed there was trust between us. That realization meant more to me than I thought it would. After witnessing the joy and passion everyone had for the carnival in the meeting, knowing I was a part of that, accepted and celebrated, I knew I was home. Finally home. It was another perfect moment in time, like the night in the swamp. I’ve rarely had that feeling, and it’s always a sure sign that my heart and mind are aligned, and my path is true.

  He caught me wiping a tear away and laid a hand on my arm, asking if I was okay.

  When I found my voice, I explained that I was just overwhelmed because I’ve never really fit in anywhere. A fact I’ve mostly ignored, and occasionally appreciated. I came here as an outsider (in the truest sense) and was unconditionally welcomed. They gave me an opportunity to be myself (find myself really) and do a job I love. No amount of coin could equal what that means to me, what they mean to me. My co-workers are the true gift.

  Sam smiled and gently squeezed my arm. There was a sadness in his eyes as he shared his own history. He grew up in the carnival, but left when he came of age to study at an institution of higher learning (sounded similar to Grimoire College). There, his classmates constantly taunted and rebuked him for being different. He tried to fit in, to do and say whatever was expected, but it was exhausting and ultimately futile. When his mother died and the carnival hit hard times, he returned and remembered what it was like to feel accepted, not merely tolerated.

  With the carnival, what made him different was what made him great. It was the same for all of them. Karneval Života is a sanctuary and a living, breathing example to every ordinary and extraordinary person of how being distinct is not a weakness to be endured, but an awe-inspiring quirk of fate that deserves to be shared and celebrated.

  Sam is extraordinary. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s a wizard, but you’d never know it by the care he takes to ensure everyone around him is safe and happy.

  Once again, we talked far longer than we should have. The sun peeked over the horizon by the time we headed for our bunks. Before we separated, he drew me in for a hug and whispered that he was forever thankful our paths had crossed. He said he’d never met anyone with such an indomitable spirit. I laughed and, at his hurt look, had to explain that indomitable is exactly how I would describe him and every one of our co-workers.

  I don’t know why, but this hug felt different from the others he’s given. He couldn’t quite meet my eyes as we said goodnight. I wonder if Asena has picked up on something I’ve missed until now. I believe Sam may be interested in me, in a romantic sense. Then again, I’m not familiar with Outerplane social cues. Perhaps he’s still uncomfortable about the whole loan thing.

  By the Triple Goddess, I need to sleep if I’m going to be of any use today. It’s going to be a hectic and exciting time. I can’t wait.

  Moondias, Thunder Moon 15, 209

  I WOKE UP this morning to find a scroll tucked under my pillow. I knew it couldn’t be from my friends at home, because my tent was still standing, so I was
confused. The first thing that struck me when I unrolled it was the perfectly formed lettering and formal language. I guessed who it was from before I saw the signature at the bottom: Bob, my stalwart building inspector companion.

  I was nervous to read it as it was a Moondias and the last time I received any correspondence from the building inspectors, it was to condemn the Gingerbread Hut. I love my House of Horrors and knew Bob had been hanging around it. Had he found the structure sub-par?

  TO HESTER DIGITALIS Wishbone,

  When first we met, I was a sheltered and unfulfilled building inspector. My world consisted of structural analysis, survey reports, and building codes. I existed only in the moments I was inspecting and ceased to be at the termination of each job. After the suns I spent bonded to the table in the unstable residential structure comprised of baked goods, I came to realize that a wide array of interesting formations and developments existed outside the bounds of my work.

  I observed your life. It was new, baffling. I wanted to understand, to know the structure of a human life.

  My decision to follow you, a controversial move among my kind, has produced an important and unexpected outcome. I realized I am more than my work. I am more than my clan. I am more than my constituent rock. I, and indeed any thoughtful being, am in a constant state of redesign and construction. And this is a state to be strived for, not avoided.

  I witnessed your progression through cycles of instability and stability. When your foundations shook, friends shored up your weight-bearing walls and kept you intact. Then, the renovations began. You expanded your areas of strength until they could support your weaker sections. Humans, and indeed most soft skins, operate as individual components of a larger structure. This is a natural and beneficial process for all.

  My research has been most promising. Applying our innate knowledge of construction to a human life is a new concept for gargoyles, and one that might in time foster increased understanding between our species. I also find that I am no longer reluctant to present new concepts to my contemporaries. This is due in part to your determination that developing and strengthening what makes you unique among your kind, converts those traits and skills not initially appreciated by others into valuable future assets.

  Our coordinated velocity brought me into relative rest with your being and has exponentially expanded my world. In my time as your companion, I have encountered more creatures, travelled to more lands, and engaged in more activities than I knew existed. And, perhaps most important of all, I have come to understand what a friend is. Not only have I listened to your conversations with others, but you have spoken to me on many occasions, something no human has ever done. Through you, I have come to recognize your complex structure of emotions and how those essential components link humans through the creation of strong, shared foundational supports.

  Gargoyle society is organized around a system of colleague clans. These are not the same as human friend or family groupings, as there are no emotionally derived connections between members. Gargoyle minds, on whole, are empirically driven. Humans would perceive our thoughts as a series of complex formulas and diagrams. Translating them into a common language for inspection forms is viewed as a gargoyle’s greatest challenge. However, it was never a difficult task for me and this set me apart. I was regarded among my homologous peers as different and ultimately defective.

  Why was this task easy for me and hard for everyone else? This question often imposed itself on my thoughts. I could feel how it set me apart from other gargoyles, and yet, try as I might, I could not determine the source of this difference. My time with you enabled me to uncover the anomaly within the enigma. I still do not understand why I find the translation of thought to common language easy, but the very fact that I felt it made me different was the prime difference.

  I had feelings, but no frame of reference to identify what they were and no outlet or opportunity to explore them. My formulas were incomplete. When you talked to me about your life and feelings, I finally had a point of reference to understand my own.

  All of my research has led me to a conclusion: Friends are the essential building blocks of a successful and fulfilling existence.

  Therefore, I, (Bob), do hereby, in this propitious time, formally petition you, Hester Digitalis Wishbone, for entry into your mutually beneficial friend clan. In doing so, I swear to uphold the high standards of friendship as defined by you, including but not limited to the provision of a safe haven, sustenance, regular correspondence, thoughtful and unsolicited gifts, emergency funding, an attentive ear, and access to any and all skills possessed by the petitioner. To show that I am serious in this petition, I have contacted my gargoyle clan to request their assistance with carnival renovations. It is my hope that this will function as suitable reparation for any inconveniences my presence may have caused.

  With every sincerity,

  Bob

  Post Script: Thank you for the considerate gifts you have made for me during our acquaintance. I find the scent of my bark earrings and the flowers in the necklace you gave me to be most pleasing.

  Post Post Script: Thank you also for helping care for my long-eared companion, as she was my first foray into friendship. She greatly enjoys the extra bits of meat you and your human companions feed her under the supper table. However, I have noted a significant gain in mass of late and wonder if this could lead to increased difficulty hopping, due to her absent foot. Please, inform me if you share this concern. I am unfamiliar with soft life forms and unequipped to make a final determination in this matter.

  Post Post Post Script: To clear up a confusion you may be labouring under—I relieved the tavern wizard of his wand for violations of building code 1483: Unauthorized renovation by a non-union worker, and building code 1501: Unsafe removal of a weight-bearing support beam. Had The Moon’s Lament not exploded, it most certainly would have collapsed. The wand is a displacement device. This is also how your companions, Herman and Monkey, are relieving patrons of their valuables. I kindly request that you ask them to refrain from utilizing the wand. I would prefer not to destroy it, as I enjoy watching the faceted jewels sparkle in the sunlight.

  HOW’S THAT FOR a letter? The guy (Or girl . . . hadn’t thought of that until now. Do gargoyles have genders? I’ll have to ask at some point.) hasn’t dropped so much as a word in the six months we’ve been together and suddenly, this. Who knew all this was going on in that stony noggin? I’m glad Bob doesn’t have an issue with the name I picked. Whatever gargoyle name that jumble of lines and symbols is, I doubt I’d ever be able to understand it, let alone pronounce it. I knew gargoyles were a different thinking bunch, but wow.

  As soon as the shock wore off, I set out and found Bob perched on a rock, facing the sun as it rose over the ocean. I said I’d be proud to have a gargoyle friend and that I accepted the petition wholeheartedly. Bob didn’t move or say anything, but after I hugged my new friend, I noted his / her / ze’s contemplative pout was curved into a broad smile.

  I never know what a day on the Outerplane will bring. Today it brought me a new-old friend. What an unexpected and wonderful thing that is!

  ADDENDUM: Jim Dandy, our dog companion, had a litter of puppies this afternoon. Everyone is now calling her Jane Dandy. Kamal is overjoyed. Sam is dismayed, but resigned to the ever-expanding nature of our family (or clan, as Bob would say).

  ADDENDUM II: I received word from Magda that she is coming to visit and help out! Missera, too. Herman is ecstatic. I can’t wait to introduce her to everyone and show her around the Outerplane. She’s going to be terrified of the wizard vehicles. I admit, I might enjoy that a little. It will be so nice to have someone around who understands just how horrifying it is to travel in them.

  Wendias, Thunder Moon 17, 209

  HERMAN WAS EXPLORING the beach late this evening and came across a seafood restaurant that specializes in lobster and crab dishes. He was appalled, to say the least.

  Instead of coming back and asking for
my help, he hastily planned an escape for his doomed crustacean comrades (one that did not involve the wand as I gave him a stern lecture last night and provided Bob with a lock-box to keep it in when not admiring its sparkle).

  My familiar was scant on the details of what happened at the restaurant. It must have been epic because he barely made it out with his shell intact. I noticed a few dents and cracks as he scuttled into our tent brandishing an array of sharp implements in his claws. He refused to put them down for quite some time.

  When he finally came out from under my bunk, he said he was considering another transmutation—a python, partly in honour of Missera’s upcoming visit.

  I didn’t buy it. He wanted a new identity, ASAP, and he categorically refused to listen when I told him the Outerplane wasn’t up to speed on sentient witch familiars. It’s not like the restaurant was going to put up wanted posters with mug shots of Herman the Nefarious Robber Crab.

  He responded by meticulously picking out clumps of grass that had become wedged in his joints during the great escape and throwing them at me.

  Recognizing it as a lost battle, I decided to tackle something that was long overdue. There was a wrong I perpetrated out of ignorance and selfishness when we first met that needed righting.

  I asked if Herman wanted to be a cockroach again so he could compare his original form with his other, more recent ones. I knew being considered inedible would appeal and that he’d enjoy the fear factor. A good percentage of Outerplaners are terrified of anything with an exoskeleton. Especially small, skittery things. I don’t get it but to each their own.

  He responded to my inquiry with suspicion.

  I understood why and it hurt to know that it was my fault. Every pang of guilt I felt was deserved. I sat beside him on the ground and apologized for initially reacting so negatively to his cockroach form, explaining my selfish reasons relating to union status. Hopefully, I conveyed that his importance to me goes far deeper than his form and that my behaviour was unacceptable. I made him feel like he wasn’t good enough, not for anything he did or said, but because of my distorted perception of what he was. That’s horrible. I failed as his witch and friend, and promised to never be so idiotic again. I ended by saying that more than anything, I wanted him to be proud of and comfortable with whatever he chose to be.