The Wild Rose


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Rabbits and tears

"Common sense would be handy in a situation like this," Percy had his fingers, such as they were, hovering over the golden orb of cookie. His job was to make sense of the thoughts that I had. The thoughts so grand and fantastical they needed a bit or a pinch of tether. Every witch I knew had a 'Percy', a special side-kick, familiar, guardian angel, spiritual advisor. And, every witch I knew of had a very different arrangement with her Percy. What made our relationship work all these years was its malleable nature. "If I eat this Butter Moon cookie, that will make ..." he had to recalibrate, honestly. "that would make?" "That would make it an even half dozen, P. You're stuffing yourself and it'll hurt." I hated bursting his balloon. He's Pisces after all and sometimes? Sometimes he likes a good fantasy and then we're both in trouble. So you see the fix we get into. In most cases a witch came with her Percy at birth. It was ...
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Only so much truth

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The afternoon breeze was late. Scanning the opaque sky for a promise of clouds from either mountain range there was neither wind nor chalk mark. Without saying, Percy disappeared between the fully visible notion of Rabbit and the in between place of ghosts and the universe's undulating hips of myth.  . . . . . "Somewhere before or after we make that promise to manifest solid, there is the waiting room, and so many corridors," Percy had many stories about where he went at these times and how all of us on Haumea find our place here. His favorite explanation always connected to trees. "It's really more like tapping into the roots than disappearing. All those tales you humans love to tell about our rabbits holes are only" -- he twitched his prominent nose -- searching for the words, "only so much truth. "To be a familial (as in familiar ) to you we have to be very good at patch-working. The Trees are excellent at patching and messaging need. Support an...
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