Monday, October 29, 2018

Wish Me Luck, Witch Me Love – S. H. Marpel – New Fiction Writing

Wish Me Luck, Witch Me Love - S. H. Marpel - New Fiction WritingWhen I woke up this morning, I felt like falling in love.

Something had happened in my dreams, while I was sleeping. I’d only gotten away from my spell-protected farm for a little bit.

Just going to find some wild fruit in season, and maybe to pick a bouquet of wild flowers to brighten up my farm house.

And then I found a tiny oasis of green ferns and blue flowers that was growing in the deep footprint of the troll I’d recently vanquished.

Stepping forward carefully, I moved to investigate it. Only to find my self a little too relaxed by the flower’s scent, and then – asleep.

I should have paid better attention. But when I woke, I was smitten. And needed to find that “one lover who was meant only for me” – in spite of anything else.

Strange, unnatural, weird. Even for a witch-in-training like me.

Wish Me Luck, Witch Me Love – S. H. Marpel – New Fiction Writing


My head ached. And I was groggy. But all I wanted to do was to find that “certain someone” where I could go and “live happily ever after.”

No, of course it didn’t make sense. I’d gone out for wild fruit and flowers and now found myself stumbling back through the pasture gate to my own farm.

Somewhere back there I had left my basket, and one of my shoes. I’d probably have left more clothes back there if they weren’t tied on so well. Because right now, I didn’t care.

All I felt like I wanted to do was to change into my go-to-town clothes and walking shoes so that I looked presentable to that certain mystery someone who was out there waiting for me to find him. My own “Prince Charming.”

In my own mind, I was rebelling at this. That male nymph, Trimble, had been quite enough for me. Not that it ever went anywhere. Couldn’t. He was a friend, and smart, and cute. And that’s about as far as it went. I had my farm to take care of, and romance was a distant concern.

Of course, in human form, he loved my craft beer. And drank all I had. But he had his job and I had mine. The twain was never going to meet on those two. But I got him to train me as much as he could. And while he doted on me, that was never going to work out – not as some deep relationship with smooching and carrying-on like that.

This conflict between my mind and my heart caused me to pause in my walking, and find that my sock-only foot was now drenched and cold, and gritty feeling. Probably ruined that sock. So what was I really doing and how did I get into this?

Then my heart took over and pushed my sensible mind back into some distant corner where it couldn’t interfere. And a dreamy look came over my face as I started moving again toward the house where my best clothes and even perfume were waiting for me.

I didn’t have time for anything except finding my “true love” and going wherever he wanted, so we could have an ever-after like we both deserved. That’s all my heart told me.

Meanwhile, that nagging thought just glowered in its corner, waiting a chance to take over and change my mind – if I ever gave it the slightest chance…

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