The Realm and the Writer

Eliza Appleby was tall and slender, with a swan like grace and butterfly hands. The skirt she wore was of simple black crushed velvet and the corset atop was adorned with glittery celestial bodies in purples, blues and golds. She rushed down her front steps pulling a pitch velvet cloak up over her honey-brown hair, contrary to the sunny humid weather. She carried a basket overflowing with lavender, foxgloves, basil, and cloves and along side her strode a very talkative ginger dappled cat.

Ms. Appleby hurried along down Mistwood way to Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau's residence. Almost there, along the dirt road, she kept her eyes sharply upon the old Sutton place. She could feel the cosmic vibrations radiating outward and knew something was awry. Without hesitation she scooped up the chattering fur ball at her feet and place it gently into the basket. Mrs. LeBeau was fanning herself nervously in her porch swing when Ms. Appleby arrived.

"Oh thank the heaven's you've arrived Eliza," Mrs. LeBeau was a slightly portly woman and her breath was labored by the heat and her excitement,"I haven't yet seen that cat of theirs and there hasn't been a sound, accept for the arrival of the dear Mr. Sones. Oh, I hope they haven't killed the poor man."

"Now, now Margaret, you know how you get. This could be no different than last year's migration." Ms. Appleby had lifted the cloak from her head and strode into the Lebeau's residence with Mrs. Lebeau eagerly in tow.

Mrs. Lebeau chattered on behind her as she pulled various oils, drafts, and supplies from the cupboards, "Well you know the migration was a rough one, those bats were evil I tell you." Eliza hardly heard her as she hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, brushing past Mr. LeBeau on the way. She found the room with the balcony and slowed herself as she walked out to it. She left Mrs. LeBeau silent in the room and closed the door behind her.

She waited and watched, all the while grinding herbs and such with a mortar and pestle. She was waiting for that moment, when she felt the pull the strongest. The sun had almost completely set as she scooped a small handful out and blew it, sparking, into the air. As if called by the event the small grey tabby appeared upon the steps and took a seat. Eliza turned quickly and rushed through the house towards the front door.

"What is it Eliza? What's happened?" Mrs. LeBeau struggled after her anxious to hear the news.

"It's back Margaret. I'm going to go see what it wants." And with that she flung the cloak about her shoulders and slipped out the front door.



Art by Danielle Cavanagh

What American accent do you have? (Best version so far) Northern You have a Northern accent. That could either be the Chicago/Detroit/Cleveland/Buffalo accent (easily recognizable) or the Western New England accent that news networks go for.

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What is your American Accent?

I've been tagged by my friend Carol. The task is to name 5 things people don't know about me so here goes...

1. I wear pajama pants and a comfy tee most of the day.

2. I have to sleep in complete dark. Any lights (the alarm clock, dvd player, phone, etc) that are within view will keep me awake.

3. I don't like lobster or crab, it's sweet and denotes spoilage to me. Yuck.

4. I love getting free stuff in the mail so I religiously check for any cool new stuff on the internet daily.

5. I hate reality shows. Their dull, too full of drama, and make me feel as if my IQ is lowering every time I watch them.


I have no one to tag so this, sadly, must end with me.

The man looked strong, a little rough around the edges to say. Although he had shaved that morning you could see a hint of stubble along his strong jaw. He had short, military cut hair, dark with a slight receding hairline. He had dark smiling eyes and a warm welcoming way about him. He was neither thin nor fat, but very handsome.

The woman was petite, rosy brown hair held high into a pony tail and larger bright eyes. She was pale, offering no indication of life in a warmer climate but she was thin, although not too delicate. She carried the small grey striped cat in an open picnic basket slung over her right arm. It bounced only slightly against her khaki colored Capri’s as she slowly climbed the steps of the old Victorian.

Mrs. LeBeau, who lived next door to the house, watched them curiously through her lace covered windows. Her husband had gone downstairs grumbling to her about being so nosy and chastising her neglect of the iced tea she had been making. Mrs. LeBeau watched as the younger woman sat the basket down at the top of the last step. The woman and, what seemed to be, her husband, disappeared into the dark shadows of the Sutton place, leaving the small cat alone to do whatever it is it would do. She watched as the cat gingerly stepped out of the basket and took a seat on the very bottom step. He looked around questioningly, as if making a decision as to the liking of his new home. It suddenly turned and began up the steps and then just disappeared! Mrs. LeBeau couldn’t believe her eyes. One moment that cat had been scaling the third step and on the second blink it was as if it had never been there at all. She rushed out onto the landing and down the stairs as quickly as she could, almost upending a small table and vase in the process. She slid into the front seat near the phone and quickly dialed Ms. Appleby’s number.

“Eliza dear, this is Margaret. You need to come over immediately. I think we have a problem,” there was silence and the sound of garbled speech coming from the other end of the line. “Eliza. I think we may have another witch!”

Now it just so happened on one very hot and balmy July day that the townsfolk found them self in need Ms. Appleby's expertise. About a month before, Ms. Agatha Sutton had put her quaint home-located about a block from Ms. Appleby's, up for sale and moved to Boca. Her presence was not so sorely missed, as her being one aweful gossip, yet the house being left bare and unoccupied left the village a little uneasy.

Their apprehensions found merit as a few young couples began to view the house and all it's worth. First, a young lawyer and his school teacher wife. They had one on the way and welcomed the small town atmosphere, accept for woods that bordered the back yard-they feared they were to dangerous for the child.

Then there came the artsy couple, no children in tow or on the way for that matter, but a large bushy poodle which they tugged and pulled around town. After a run in at the cafe pertaining to the improper temperature of one simple cup of coffee, they found the town unsuitable and left immediately.

But there was another, one couple in particular that left a sense of foreboding on the minds of the people. Just a couple, not artsy or particular in any way, no children to count for or strange relatives in tow. Just a man and a woman and one very petite cat.

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Please feel free to comment on any grammatical errors that are found.