Art is accusation, expression, passion. Art is black charcoal crushing white paper.
– Gunter Grass
Prologue
I have been writing this book because I believe my wife is a witch. Our history together has provided ample evidence to conclude that she has and uses magical powers. I’ve seen too much, been a party to too many weird things, to deny the supernatural qualities of our experiences together.
Looking back on the years I’ve shared with her, armed with twenty-twenty hindsight, I suspected that she was a witch from the very beginning, on the very first day we met. Nothing that has happened since has persuaded me otherwise, in fact, most of what has happened confirmed my suspicions.
In a way, I should have been flattered; she showed me who she was right away, revealed her true form, bared the witch within, so to speak. Having been with her all these years, I realize now that she has never shared her true identity like that with anyone else. From the start, I was different. I like that.
I wasn’t thinking about her in those terms yet; I wasn’t ready to begin accusing anyone of anything. I say I was suspicious but honestly, I never dreamed that she was really a witch. I didn’t think anyone was really a witch. I wasn’t open to the idea. I dismissed the connections, the visions and coincidences, just assumed the strange things that had happened were the result of an overactive imagination, fueled by the usual assortment of cocktails, beers, being under-fed and over-tired. I wrote off the experiences as a short bout of madness. Assuming that I was wrong made far more sense to me than the idea of her being a witch. Insanity made more sense to me than supernatural powers.
I call her a witch but that may not be what she is. Witches aren’t the only ones with supernatural powers so having powers doesn’t necessarily make her a witch, but you know what I mean. She’s clearly formed in the shape of a human being; she spends her days doing ordinary human things.
I don’t think she’s an alien or some other kind of supernatural being. I don’t think she shows any signs of possession. I haven’t seen her shape-shifting or anything dramatic like that. I suppose she might be a sorceress, a wizard, or a high priestess in some dark occult religion, perhaps. I’m just going to call her a witch. The title suits her. I can wrap my head around that.
The thing is, the reason I’m writing all this down, is that lots of strange stuff has happened since I met her and I want to make a record of it, just in case. Sometimes it scares me senseless. I don’t know what I mean.
If something should happen to me, I was going to say, but I don’t think anything bad is going to happen. Our time together has been phenomenally good. I would have to say that spending time with a witch has been very beneficial.
I guess I’m trying to make a record, in case some one needs to understand what has been going on with her. I’ve been a front-line witness to years of witchy behavior. I just think I should write it all down.
At the very least, it’s an interesting story. Maybe that’s why I want to write it down, because I don’t have anyone I can tell my story to. I’ve been alone with the knowledge. I can’t even imagine who I’d seriously discuss this with. They’d think I was crazy or laugh at me. Married to a witch. I’m dying to tell someone about it but I’m going to keep my mouth shut, for my own good. This will have to do.
Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not calling her out, not accusing her, not trying to bring her to justice or salvation or whatever I would be doing if I made her witchiness public. So I haven’t called any church elders; I haven’t been in contact with a witch hunter. Nor have I forbidden her from cleaning the house using magic. I’m quite happy, being married to a witch. It’s very nice.
I joked about the house cleaning but from what I’ve gathered witchcraft doesn’t work that way. She can’t just cast a quick spell and make the house clean or transformed into a medieval castle. That would be a good trick, of course, but that would be more of a Jeannie sort of thing. Witches are subtle in their use of power, certainly more subtle than that. They don’t make things happen as much as they smooth the path that leads wherever they want to go. They help or hinder.
I’ve seen a few weird things but I’m never going to prove anything using undocumented visual evidence. If I’d taken pictures or video or something, we could talk but eye witness accounts aren’t reliable. I have to be realistic; I may have been seeing things that weren’t there. Visual evidence is not a big part of my case, anyway; I wish it were. If I had seen more unexplainable things, it might not have taken me so long to reach my conclusion. That said, I have seen some weirdnesses.
My case is an accumulation of things I’ve seen, heard and experienced. It is an incomplete record of the events that transpired; lots of stuff may have happened that I don’t know anything about. Although I live with her, I can’t pretend to know everything she does magically. All I can attest to is what I’ve witnessed, what I’ve seen, heard and felt.
For what that’s worth. I’m not sure I’m a good witness or even a reliable one. Not just because I don’t always pay attention to details and miss lots of things that go past me. I think she messes with my mind, so even what I know is suspect. It isn’t a great place to start but it will have to do.
I’ve never seen anything float or magically blink into or out of existence. I haven’t heard any objects talk or seen anything suddenly transform from one thing into another. Just to be clear, there haven’t been any parlor tricks, no stage-type magic, no bright balls of light and big bangs. Nor does she ever wave a wand. I don’t even think she has one. There is a stick on her witch shelf but I don’t think that proves much of anything.
What I have seen, let’s say, that might prove she is a witch, has been her success. It seems like luck is always on her side. She can do things that I’m not sure she should be able to do, things I know I couldn’t do. There are lots of things I can’t do, but she does things I don’t think anyone could do. She has a knack for doing the right thing at the right time in the right way to accomplish the right result. It’s uncanny.
She can foresee the future, too often for it to be mere coincidence; she always seems to make lucky guesses, always has the right cards, so to speak. She knows things, things she shouldn’t be able to know, like who’s going to win or what exactly I’m thinking.
She frequently talks to animals and plants and clay and food. I think they listen to her. And I’ve never heard any voices but I suspect some of them respond. Stuff goes on that I really don’t get.
There is evidence in the first time we met; I think being a witch made my wife an incredible photography model. She is still the best I’ve ever worked with. From time to time, I get inquiries about some of the photos we took and we didn’t take that many. Search for “witch photo” and one of her pictures will be in the top two-hundred fifty hits, six years after we took them. And, believe me, there are lots of witch photos on the internet. Way lots.
Of course, our photography sessions were the weirdest sessions I have ever been through. Not just once, but twice. And then the pictures worked out in a way that I think I can fairly claim only a witch could have arranged. That’s my theory, anyway.
Being a witch certainly made her a superb business manager. Compared to me, no question. When we met, I was pretty much floundering, trying to get enough work to get enough cash to get my business started. I barely made rent, sometimes.
Back then, When I made contact with someone who hired photographers, I would bug them daily trying to get work. They’d usually tell me they’d find something for me but not now, later and later rarely came. Sadly, that’s how I got most of my work, annoying everyone I knew until someone gave me a job, taking pictures, doing design work, arrangements, junk like that.
Pushing so hard, my popularity, never my strongest suit, started really crumbling. People wouldn’t answer calls, stopped responding to emails, started crossing the street to avoid me because they knew I’d have to say what I had to say, that I’d ask them for work and they’d have to say no.
Even so, I did all right, most of the time, but I wasn’t getting ahead. I started having doubts about my career choice, and considered getting a desk job somewhere. I might have given up. I was getting desperate. That was when I met a witch.
When she was arranging work for me, she’d call some guy up and hand me three jobs. Then she’d call another guy and I’d have five more. In the first week, she arranged more work than I found in six months. There was hardly enough time to do all the work she found. She kept me on track. I started to get ahead.
After a while, the grind of production started wearing me thin, so I told her that I wanted to change our direction, take me out of the trenches and start letting me provide the visions. Two weeks later, I had a new office and a whole new game plan. It was like she snapped her fingers and made it all happen. I didn’t even struggle with the transition. She told me what I needed to know, where to be and what to do. I paid close attention, did as I was told and the inevitable victory was won.
With a witch, I’ve gathered, success is just business as usual. When obstacles arose, she took care of them. I can’t swear there was magic involved but the way our troubles vanished was clearly incredible. Our deliverables were on time and our competition invariably fell short. Her grasp of the details was nearly perfect. I don’t remember her ever missing a trick. Unbelievable, really. Fantastic. Supernatural.
As a wife, as a friend, as a partner, a witch is where it’s at. She knows me and knows my needs and desires. She knows what to say. She knows how close I want her to be. She guides me through life casually, sweetly, delightfully. Every day is a pleasure.
Am I spell-bound? Am I under her control, voodoo hexed and enslaved? Am I happy because she has cast a spell that makes me happy? Am I her minion, her human familiar? Do I have any free will at all?
I’m sure I’ll never know. But I don’t mind.
Having said all of that, I feel a bit stupid, saying my wife has magic powers. I’m not a child, immersed in wizard novels about fairy tales and fantastical elf-lore. I don’t even like that stuff, really. Some of it, maybe, I mean, I’ve watched the movies but I don’t take it seriously. I keep my feet on the ground.
I’ve always believed in ghosts and stuff like that. I don’t know if I’ve actually seen a ghost but I have felt some creepy paranormal stuff, energy and cold and unexplained noises while hanging out with friends in abandoned buildings when we were younger. We’d try to contact the spirits when we were feeling bold mostly because we were drunk. Once there was a loud crash in the distance when someone shouted at the ghosts we couldn’t see but we’ve all had supernatural experiences. It’s not that weird. The world is full of dark energies.
And witches, apparently.
I know what most people know about paranormal stuff, the occult, hauntings, vampires, wizards, all that junk. I watch the shows, see the movies. Some of it seems cool but most of it’s just for fun. I’d never really given it any thought. I never really thought it would impact my life.
When I think about it, though, apart from your basic Halloween witch decorations, I didn’t know that much about witches when this started. It wasn’t even a question I thought to ask, no more than I’d ask about mummies. They’re Halloween costumes. I wonder if werewolves are real. Shapeshifting is cool.
I used to work with this young woman sometimes back when I first started taking pictures. Annette would be like my assistant when I had big jobs that needed more than one person. I don’t know how we started working together but we had a rapport that made getting the job done easy.
I didn’t really know Annette that well but we talked sometimes during the downtime we’d have to endure during some of our jobs. One day, she casually mentioned that she was a real live modern day witch. I made some stupid jokes which I could tell annoyed her but then she told me lots of stuff I never knew about witches. That’s what got me thinking, when Annette said she thought my wife was a witch.
She was the first to say so and the only person who has brought the subject up since. Maybe there’s some kind of spell around my wife that prevents people from noticing. Maybe Annette is protected because she’s a witch too. Something to consider.
When she told me that my wife was a really a witch. I asked her how she knew and she told me. She was right about everything.
I’m no authority on witches although I do have personal experience with one or more of them. From what I have gathered, witches could be described as people who still follow the oldest religions. They come in every shape and size and nationality and walk of life. No culture or time period has been free of witches. Because they observe pagan ways, they are connected to nature far beyond your average tree-hugger; the connection isn’t rational or even emotional. The connection between witches and nature is spiritual. This other-worldly connection is the root of their power. They can do things, they know things, they can see things and foresee things. Yet you may never know when a witch is right next to you, even though you see them every day.
What you will see, if you watch carefully, is a person who perpetually enjoys an inner peace, a connectedness, a serenity that controls and dampens the world rushing in chaos around her. The energies she commands glides her though life, like a melody, like a summer breeze, like a rainbow on the wing. She may whisper and mumble, she may wave her hands and unfocus her eyes while you are talking to her, but she’ll know exactly what you mean and precisely what is really going on. Witch life is a style, a power, a universe unto itself.
On those wings, we keep soaring higher.
After Annette opened my eyes, I started binging movies, shows, videos, stuff like that, to learn everything I could about witches. They have an interesting culture.
There are objects usually associated with historical witches. My wife owns a wide assortment of things that any witch might have; there is no disputing that. But other women I have known have had the same kind of witchy things in their homes and I don’t think they were witches at all. Crystals and Celtic designs and Tarot cards and spirit bowls and incense and candles. What woman doesn’t have candles? I don’t think we can conclude anything from owning witch type objects. It’s just more evidence, piling on.
She has most of those witch type things on a shelf. I call it her witch shelf. She never responds when I say things like that, like it isn’t worth responding to. Of course, I don’t know if it’s not worth responding to because it’s true or because it’s ridiculous, I’ll probably never know. I’ve tried to talk to her about being a witch but she either walks away, changes the subject or makes a joke out of it. I don’t know what that means but I am convinced that she will not talk about it.
There are other things she has on her witch shelf that are less generic, like the witch books. They aren’t very good reads, lots of circles and affirmations and goddess talk that goes round and round in, well, circles. She said they are research but I don’t know what she’s doing research for. Having them on the shelf is not conclusive that she is a witch but it is evidence. Church ladies don’t have witch stuff on display.
Lots of popular culture shows witches hanging out in groups, stirring cauldrons and dancing in the moonlight. I don’t think my wife goes in for that kind of witchery. I mean, I don’t think she really spends any time hanging out with other witches.
Not that I’m aware of, anyway. I suppose she might be turning into a rabbit and hopping off for a coven meeting after I go to sleep. They say witches sometimes transform into animals so that they can play tricks on us mere mortals, without the limitations of human form. Or they fly on brooms. Lots of witch stuff is supposed to happen at night. I wouldn’t think I would miss her leaving the house after bed but I do sleep pretty soundly. And she may be casting sleep spells on me. Time reversal spells. Who knows?
But, seriously, she doesn’t have any witchy friends like that, wearing witchy symbols or talking witch talk. I think she’s more of a loner. I’m pretty sure they have loner witches. That’s probably a thing.
So it’s not the company she keeps that makes me think she is a witch. It’s the way she behaves, some of the weird stuff I’ve witnessed and our continuing successes that make me believe in her witchness. I guess I don’t really have any proof. Maybe she isn’t a witch. But it sure seems like she is.
Of course, its not all about the good stuff that has happened since we got together. There have been times when it frightens me. I don’t mean that she has caused me fear but thinking about her being a witch has scared me. I don’t know. I suppose she scares me. In a good way.
She’s always been pleasant to me but I’ve been careful to stay on her good side. It’s important to me, in fact, because, if I’m being honest, I’ve always been a bit afraid of her. I sort of did that instinctively, from the beginning. I knew from the very start that I did not want her mad at me. It wasn’t anything she said or did. There wasn’t any violence in her behavior or even in her language. She was always kind of sweet when I was around anyway. But I glimpsed her power, I guess. I felt the force of her psychic energy. I could feel the cold push of her intense will. After an hour, I’d seen enough to keep me subdued and obedient. I fear her lovingly.
But I’ve also done business with her, watched her deal with people who did not please her. She can be very forceful when she needs to get her way and some people are foolish enough to stand in her way.
She doesn’t show any anger but I believe are two patterns I can discern, when she has been crossed. First I suspect that she somehow causes them pain in ways that never quite come back on her. People who have crossed her often experience the worst luck in the wake of their encounter. They trip, fall down stairs, get hit by falling objects, go blind, stuff like that.
Then I suspect that she foretells a terrible future for them. And it happens. I’m not kidding. People are ruined, broken, disgraced, ostracized. They get sick and die. I mean, I don’t know if she cast a spell and made them die but she did predict their demise. She tells me when deals are going to fall apart, when companies are going to collapse, when partnerships are doomed and she’s always right. It’s spooky. And scary.
Actually, to be safe, I long ago adopted the attitude that she’s always right. It seems like the best approach to life with a witch. Do what I’m told and enjoy the benefits. And it’s worked, so I’m sticking with it. I’m doing too well to jeopardize this gravy train of happiness. Besides, she is always right.
I haven’t mentioned writing this book to her. I hope she doesn’t mind.
Tales of Passing Time 