The Witch's Candelabra

Chapter 19 - Ethereal Reflections

Braids:

The Gemool, my ghostly companions, gathered around their ethereal poker table, their cards fluttering in the ghostly breeze. The air in the room felt dense, heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts and centuries-old wisdom. I had sought their counsel following my date with Leon, my mind a tumult of emotions and fears.

One of the Gemool, his transparent form flickering like a candle in the wind, spoke up, his voice a hollow echo of a life long past. "The nature of mankind is suffering," he began, his eyes, or where his eyes would have been, fixed on me. "Many of us try to live without causing harm, without offending, unless provoked... and yet, we fail. It is inevitable that we cause damage to others simply by existing. Our desires often conflict, and in fulfilling our own, we may inadvertently harm another."

I listened, the words resonating within the depths of my being. "But what if I choose to isolate myself, to build walls around me to protect others from the pain I might cause, and to shield myself from their rejection?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His response came as a sigh, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of ages. "One cannot live in a bubble, no matter how hard one tries. We must navigate life, stepping carefully, but understanding that we are not wholly responsible for the feelings of others. They are shaped by their own experiences and reactions. When we act without malice, we must not be too harsh on ourselves when things go awry and others are hurt."

Another Gemool chimed in, his voice a rustling like dry leaves. "And even in your isolation, you cannot escape the gaze of the world. A passing stranger may see you, form an opinion, perhaps even fall in love. Without intending, without associating, you have influenced another's heart. To avoid interaction entirely is to cause its own form of heartbreak."

Their words hung in the air, a tapestry of truth and sorrow. I stood there, amidst my spectral friends, realizing the complexity of my situation. My desire to protect Leon and myself was noble, but perhaps it was also futile. In this world of shadows and light, interaction and influence were inevitable.

I looked around at the Gemool, their ghostly forms a reminder of lives once lived, of choices made and paths taken. In their silent company, I found a strange comfort. They were my confidants in a world where trust was a rare gem, hidden in the dark mines of human interaction. As I left them to their eternal game of poker, their words echoed in my mind, a reminder that life, in all its complexity, was a dance of shadows and light, of connections made and broken, of hearts touched and sometimes, inadvertently, wounded.

***

That brisk evening, as I made my way home, the sky was a tapestry of overcast grey, reminiscent of a gothic painting. Clouds, like layers of grey wool, churned and tumbled over one another in a restless dance. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the dense weight of my thoughts, as if my mind were filled with thick fog.

Stretching my back, I found a semblance of comfort in the cold air, my gaze lifting to the endless grey abyss above. Pulling my black fleece jacket tighter around me, I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking warmth in the chill of the evening.

As I walked, the faces of passersby seemed to blend into the monochrome landscape of the city. To my eyes, the world was predominantly grey, devoid of vibrancy, save for certain exceptions. My spells, the creations of my magic, stood out in stark contrast, vibrant and full of life against the dreary backdrop. They were like bold strokes of oil paint on a canvas of grey, a vivid representation of the Gemool's apt analogy.

Even in this muted world, some natural elements retained their own colors. Wild animals - birds, feral cats, and the occasional deer that dared to wander into the central city gardens - all moved with an inherent vibrancy. The plants there too were alive with color, their greenery lush and thriving amidst the urban sprawl.

My thoughts drifted to my spectral companions, the Gemool. In death, they had come to understand the beauty of life, yet they were forever barred from truly experiencing it. Their existence, confined to the shadows of a bar, was a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of existence.

But in my unique position, I could tap into their world, draw wisdom from their ethereal existence. Why them, these forlorn spirits? Perhaps it was a reflection of my own inner need for safety, a desire to be sheltered among those who could not harm me. There was an ironic warmth in their company, a sense of belonging amidst the departed.

As I continued my walk, my father's words about trust echoed in my mind. To trust was to give someone the power to hurt you, to expose a part of yourself to potential pain. The Gemool, in their spectral state, were perhaps the only beings I could truly trust. They were removed from the tangible world, unable to influence or betray.

Lost in these thoughts, I approached the pawn shop, my place of work and refuge. As I neared the entrance, my wings, which had carried me through the night, began to dissolve into the air, their violet hues fading like leaves carried away by an autumn wind. They were my escape, my freedom, but here, in the realm of the living, they had no place. With a final glance at the sky, I stepped into the shop, ready to resume my role in the waking world.