Witchy Wanderings

Chapter 1: Cold Books

I shivered at the checkout counter wishing the store owner would fix the heater. It had been broken for two weeks, but anytime I brought it up I would get the same annoyed look and told in the shrillest of tones to "bring my jacket" or "use my fat." Just because I wasn't a size 0 didn't mean I was fat. I actually had muscle and meat on my bones not just wrinkled skin.

She also had a few choice words when it came to my choice in music for the store, but she usually called ahead, so I quickly changed my "Devil's Drivel" to something gospel. Once she left, I'd rock out again.

I tried to warm my hands in time to the black veil brides, but I wasn't having much luck warming up. I don't know why Mrs. Hartford insisted on being so cheap. She owned a few hotels and restaurants. She made more then enough to fix this small bookstore. However, all she wanted to do when she saw me was bitch about my appearance or lecture me about God.

She said I dressed too risky and ungodly. Look, I'm sorry I have boobs and an ass. It doesn't matter that I wear long sleeves and jeans. If it's not unflattering and ankle skirts she thinks your asking for it. I even wore sweats to work once and got yelled at that I looked homeless and that was worse than what I normally wear.

I got so fed up with her that I cut my hair into a pixie cut and dyed it blue. The anger on her face was worth it. Though to keep my job I had to dye it back and now I have to have long hair according to the new dress code.

Don't even get me started on her bible thumping lectures and constant church invites. It got so annoying I actually went this past weekend. I had hoped it would earn me enough brownie points to get some heat in the store. Nope. All it did was waste four hours of my weekend with lectures about tithes. "Tithe is not tied to your income level." "Plant the seed for more income." "Money is the Devil in your pocket. Cleanse yourself."

It was a truly dumbfounding experience. I don't know why anyone would listen to those greedy pastors. The last time I checked money was not the Word of God. In fact Jesus says to share with everyone and preferred to be penniless. Shouldn't the church follow the example of giving instead of taking?

I sighed, all these thoughts made me miss my old church. When I was younger my parents took me to church all the time. I was in choir, bell choir, an acolyte, bible study, vacation bible school, took comunión, and went though baptism and confirmation. I had actually debated on becoming a sister at one point or a pastor if they would allow it.

I loved the community and the makeshift family I had there, but I started to lose my faith when my friend Kris came out as Gay. They attacked him and shunned him. They threatened his family and mine when I refused to stop hanging out with them. My parents switched churches, but the next one was no better. They were greedy. The one after that was all about "you're going to hell if you don't do XYZ".

My dad kinda gave up on church and exchanged it for community service at the food bank. My mom picked up some new hobbies. We never did tell my grandparents. As far as they know we go to church every Sunday. What we actually do is go out for a quite brunch while everyone is out. The Sunday I went to church with Mrs. Hartford was a Sunday my parents were out of town, so just lost time alone; not time with my parents.

I shivered again. I really needed a coffee break to warm up. My friend Kris did own the cafe down the street and I didn't mind spending my money there. I looked around the store to make sure no one was browsing and checked the restrooms. Once I was in the clear I grabbed my bag and the keys to lock up, but in my haste I caught a box of mixed books.

The new additions to the store cane tumbling down in a great spectacle. I sigh frustrated with myself for my carelessness and at Mrs. Hartford for continuously buying second hand and new books that we had no room for. She would only ever buy religious romance, bibles, or other religious based books. Though she had relented and added fiction in the collection, so we could make ends meet.

I set down my bag and keys and got to work cleaning up my mess. Normally, I'd organize them as I cleaned to make the work easier when I returned, but my growling stomach reminded me I hadn't eaten at all today. I started just tossing the books in the box, but stopped when I noticed two rather odd purchases for Mrs. Hartford.

One book was all black, no title, no author and had an oddly designed gold cross. The top of the cross wasn't a line. It was an oval in shape. It was clasped with a broken lock. It didn't strike me as a normal bible and probably would need some research on my end to pick it correctly. Under my counter it went.

The other odd book had the Virgin Mary on it, but depicted her in a way I had never seen. It had her on the cover three times. Once was her as a young girl, the second time was her as a mother holding a baby, and the final time was her as a old woman holding a cane. Beneath the three images were three moons that almost looked like one symbol. It was a Waxing Moon, a Full Moon, and a Waning Moon. Again, there was no title and no author. I put that one under my counter beside the odd bible and finished cleaning up the mess.

I set the time on the closed sign and locked up. I would be back in an hour or two and the store would still be dead. No lost business here. After all people were only downtown during the touristy summer time. During the fall and winter you were lucky to see one person a week.

The cold wind raced down my back causing me to erupt in goosebumps. A hot soup and Carmel Macchiato was calling my name.