// WEASLIE HOUSE //
IT MUST HAVE BEEN THAT YEAR BECAUSE I REMEMBER TAKING A CITY TOUR ON ONE OF THOSE RED DOUBLE-DECKER BUSES.
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE OUTINGS TAKEN AS A SORT OF VACATION DAY.
OFFICIAL DAYS TO PLAY HOOKY.
Summer was due yet to start. It had been at the end of a distant summer the witch Friday Perkins had come to live with him. This would make two years.
In this time, Friday had become enamoured with the spider motif. Fixated upon it. She did not immediately go and paint the house black and red – that was a saving grace – but she had taken to spending a prodigious amount of time observing the spiders she’d relocated.
And she wanted her spellbooks back.
DO YOU THINK WE COULD TAKE A TRIP TO NYC?
YOU KNOW…TO GET MY STUFF BACK?
I…DON’T KNOW IF IT’S SAFE.
BESIDES, I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN LEAVE THE BUSINESS FOR THAT LONG.
YEAH, I KNOW.
But in most ways, she was an amiable housemate. It was a comforting feeling to have someone in the house who effortlessly worked feats of magic. Not since Mom died had there been a capable witch in the house.
For Bronald Weaslie, magic was almost an inconvenience in his day-to-day life. He was incapable of truly great feats and even lesser feats were difficult and…dare he even think it – unnecessary. What was the point in being able to influence flame or freeze water or whatever other tricks they could muster? Couldn’t technology and time do the same things but without the constant secrecy, almost embarrassment, that came along with the forced isolation?
What would it be like to walk freely among the Ordinary? To have no fear about revealing one’s origin, one’s key composition?
Mother had kept him busy with chores and errands to such a degree that he’d had little time for idle speculation. But his days as a young householder were different. Living with Friday was like living next to an open chasm. The guard rail was flimsy but inviting. Nothing was stopping him from peering into the abyss.
WHAT ABOUT TIME MAGIC?
WHAT ABOUT TIME MAGIC?
ITS USE IS DISCOURAGED BY THE SAGES.
I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LIVE THIS CLOSE TO THE GATEWAY AND YOUR MOTHER NEVER TOOK YOU OVER THE THRESHOLD.
WE JUST COULD NEVER GET AWAY FROM THE FARM FOR THAT LONG.
IT’S A NEVER-ENDING COMMITMENT: HAVING A FARM.
WELL, FUCKING WITH THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM IS A GOOD WAY TO GET AXED.
LITTLE PERSONAL EFFECTS WON’T DRAW TOO MUCH ATTENTION BUT THE BIGGER YOU GO THE MORE LIKELY YOU ARE TO GET CAUGHT.
AND YOU DON’T WANT TO GET CAUGHT.
SURE WOULD BE USEFUL…
I DON’T THINK SO.
WE COULD GO BACK TO THE TIME BEFORE –
NO WAY, WEASLIE.
BESIDES, I’M NOT THAT PRACTICED WITH THOSE KINDS OF MAGIC.
SCARED ME TOO MUCH TO USE.
SCARED ME THAT I MIGHT FUCK UP.
I GUESS THAT’S FAIR.
YOU COULD MAKE AN ERROR AT ANY POINT THOUGH.
ISN’T IT THEORETICALLY POSSIBLE THAT YOU COULD SUMMON A DINOSAUR INSTEAD OF A SIDE OF FRENCH FRIES?
She sighs emphatically.
YES, IT IS POSSIBLE.
JUST…NOT VERY LIKELY.
YOU KNOW…AT ALL.
WHAT IF YOU DIDN’T TRUST THE GUYS WHO GAVE YOU THE ODDS.
THEN YOU’RE IN NO MAN’S LAND.
FOG LIKE PEA SOUP.