The day this particular, peculiar client wandered up my mountain I was drawing hexes in the sunlit, glittering snow. More for fun and dopamine than for any real reason. Draw a hex with a stick, say a name, spit on the hex, get a jolt of satisfaction. It’s a fun way to while away the hours on a dull winter afternoon. The world is certainly never short of targets. Hex drawing is personal, more about channeling your energy than memorizing any specific symbols. A lot of magic is like that, a performance to help you harness your own power. Draw whatever feels right: the bad runes, a bleeding crescent moon, skulls, black suns, bullets, bombs, fire, coffins, an angry face, swirls of wind, a cat’s paw… inverted things are particularly potent, like an inverted heart, rainbow, or four-leaf clover. Put some intent behind it, a little saliva, and you’re on the fast road to revenge… or to fucking with somebody you don’t like.
All’s fair in witchcraft.
I’d hexed a good hundred people when I felt a prickling at the back of my neck. A very fearful energy was making its way up the mountain. Fear has varied effects on people, some get compliant, some rage, fight, run, some retreat into their heads for planning or into deep paranoia. This one just felt, a little weird. Calm but terrified… it was one of the strangest energies I’d ever felt. Very pleasant despite its own discomfort. I made my way back up to the cabin and put the tea kettle on. This timorous creature would be cold, I’d need some warming tea. I called off the dogs and sat in the cabin waiting, listening to the fire crackle. Hexing all afternoon had been exhausting, I ate a snickerdoodle and I thought about the honesty of fear. Fear will always show you who a person is at their core. You might think it’s love that’s the most forthright, but ‘love’ is only the name we’ve given to your brain’s tendency to chase a comfortable high. Fear is about survival. Survival is truth.
He finally knocked.
Tall guy, broad shouldered. Very nice smile. Like, a genuine flash of true joy kind of smile. I felt my heart go a little wobbly at it. Seemed confident enough. I really couldn’t account for the palpable fear sloughing off him like old skin. It was heady, the stink of it. The dogs sat up from their spot by the fire and regarded him.
“Oh, wow, what beautiful dogs.”
“Wolves.”
He smiled again. Didn’t miss a beat, just strode right over to them.
They wagged their tails, my killer wolves did. He scratched them under their chins. No one ever touches Geri and Freki. Ever. People are terrified of these two huge black predators taking up half my cabin. But he was down there rubbing their bellies. They must have understood something I didn’t, because I was confused as fuck. He stood. Smiled at me again. Outwardly, he was very at ease, but that fear roiled inside, thrashing like caught prey. It was an impressive feat of self control to appear as mellow as he did. That must have accounted for the deep weariness haunting his eyes.
“So, big guy, what brings you up to my cabin?” I put tea on the table for him.
“I need protection.”
“From?”
“Everything. I don’t want anything to happen to me.”
“As in car accidents, lightning strikes, snake bites? Wolves don’t seem to worry you…” I motioned to the boys, lazing by the fire again.
“They’re good, I can tell.”
“Huh… so, protection from what, then?”
“Everything.”
I know I furrowed my brow because what in the sweet crypt was happening here?
“I need a little more than that. Are you afraid of car accidents or emotional accidents?”
“Both. All of it.”
“Ok, let me try another question. Why are you afraid of… everything?”
“It makes me uncomfortable.”
“By ’it’ you mean imagining the consequences of ‘scary’ things happening makes you uncomfortable?”
“Yeah. Consequences. I think it’s consequences I don’t like thinking about.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. You have trauma, I assume?”
He sipped his tea, and made a face. “I’m not really a tea drinker. Yes to the trauma.”
“And you like very specific sensory input. You need protection from anything outside of that as well.”
“Something like that.”
“You’re single?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a shame. You’re a good looking guy. Has anyone ever told you that your smile is, kind of intoxicating?”
“No…” His turn to furrow his brow.
“Huh? If I were you, I’d leave now and rethink all of those fears. Let whatever trauma you’re holding onto go and start stepping out into life, maybe a little at a time. Get used to taking small risks, build your tolerance to failure slowly and with inconsequential failures. Build a life one small experience at a time.”
“No. I don’t want any of that.”
I’d put a lot of magical oomph behind that statement… and got nothing in return. Was I facing severe lassitude? Obstinacy? Likely a combination, built on a depressive foundation. He wasn’t cursed or hexed or anything.
“I mean I don’t make plate armor.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“I would actually love that.” Not to invoke the enemy, but Jesus Christ finally.
“I like it up here. These woods are really peaceful. Maybe I’ll just live out there.” He gestured behind him out the window. I took a deep breath.
“So here’s the thing. That mountain is crawling with monsters, that’s why I have these two wolves over here. They help keep the monsters in check so they don’t escape and eat a lot of people. I doubt you’d like it out there. Very dangerous.”
“No that sounds good actually. Being a peaceful monster on your mountain. Maybe vibing it out. I could help, do something good.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Me neither, but I think it’s why I came up here. Why your dogs like me.”
I looked at the boys, tails wagging like common domesticated lap dogs. I walked to my obsidian ball. I was having trouble with this scenario. How does a guy come up here asking to be protected from everything and then end up wanting to live among the worst monsters monsterdom has to offer? In the wilderness like an animal no less. I can confidently say that I’ve never met a human this confusing, before or since. The ball showed me his inner aura, very muddy, but with a softly glowing core.
“Fine. At least I’ll be able to keep an eye on you. You’re an interesting specimen.” I went to my cupboard and picked out a vial of rosemary and Pilosocereus tincture. “Drink this. You’re not going to like it.”
He made a face, but tipped the vial back. Then made another face. A long, wiry, white hair popped out from his cheek.
“You might want to get naked.”
“Woah, no.” Crimson flushed his cheeks.
I shrugged. He was all dressed up in pants and a heavy coat. That hair was going to start coming out of every pore.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow.” He started dancing and stripping off clothes, despite the long hairs popping out all over his skin, and the blood, it was not an altogether unpleasant spectacle. “Fuuuuck! Why didn’t you tell me this would hurt so much?”
“Didn’t want to scare you. You’re going to need to blend in.”
He dropped to his knees, rocking in pain, hair sprouting thick and fast now, covering his tender nakedness…. Sadly. He roared as each pore in his flesh ripped open to accommodate this thick pelt of, what was essentially plant fiber. Yes, plant fiber. There is a method to this madness. The fiber will break down over time, and it won’t grow back. He’ll either need to keep coming to me for more tincture, which means we can keep digging into his fear, or he’ll need to get a grip and rejoin humanity. In the meantime, it is very good as a protective covering. It’s not plate armor, but it will certainly be better than mere clothing.
He was whimpering now, curled in the fetal position in a pool of blood, but by now the hair was done sprouting. The cats gathered around to lap up the mess. I knelt next to him and carefully touched his shoulder, the hair was thick, coarse, and pale.
“You gonna be ok?”
“Yeah, I think so. I think I needed that pain.” His voice was strained and he breathed in ragged gasps, but I believed him.
“You survived it.”
“I did. And I’m ok. I mean I look like a yeti, but it’s ok.” He pushed himself up to sitting. His right side was soaked in blood. “Sorry about the mess.”
“Totally ok. Definitely not the first time the floor’s been covered in blood. When you get outside just roll around in the snow for a bit and you’ll be good.”
“Shit, yeah. I live outside now.” He smiled again, seemingly very pleased.
“Stop by for cookies any time.”
“I think I will.”
He stood and helped me to my feet, such a handsome, fury gentleman. Not gonna lie I was still into him a little bit. I might have checked out his ass as he walked out the door and into the forest.
Here’s to hoping I see him again.
That was delightfully odd and whimsically macabre!
I always eat snickersdoodles after a long day of hexing people...😄