LeggingsRoyalescam2000@60+com

Mystical Encounter with a Magician.

I closed my eyes wearily; it was past the wtiching hour - past the dimness of full night under an autumn moon, yet not at the dawn chorus hours. My mind alerted me to sudden immediate danger, the buzz from the electric socket behind the chair increased. I saw him then, with my eyes closed. A man, medium height, shambling along, in an old suit, perhaps tweed. Not fat, not thin, enough to make him limbs move encombered by weight. I couldn't see his face, and his voice was rough, crusty with age. He was above me, higher up. Only not in the flat above. Another diemension?

He was setting up a machine. Heavy. He struggled with it. He coughed, spat out something, swore.
I moved in the chair, not wanting the touch of his mind. He tried to get in. I moved again. Finally he was ready, he switched the machine full on. Electricity suddenly surged into my head and straight down my spinal chord. Pain and pleasure, tingled as it spaced out every joint. I fled the chair. Felt the connexion break.

He rumbled anger above me. "It's for your own good!" he said, "Never have I had this trouble before with anyone!"
I used the other way, and returned, "Not for me thank you!" and "Please find someone else to do that too!"
"If you knew why we wanted you in our network," he said snidely, "You'd thank me!" A sensation of grease.
"I do know," I replied half angrily, "It's about the way you travel."
"Yes," he agreed amused, "We travel for free."

"I don't do the network, I'm a free floater," I answered half crossing my self in fear. I had the knowledge that he wanted to trap me in the electric flow. It wasn't about traveling - it was about collection and dispersal.

Another voice came through, sharp, a woman this time, "Did you get her sorted out?"
"No," he said anxiously, "Nearly caught her in the flow, another minute or so and the soul be gone for good! The thing is; is that I think she knows what we're up too...."
"Well if she does," she said crossly, "Then we've had it."

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When I woke up the next morning; I was still trying to parse the dilemma of the machine. I had felt the pull towards the socket when I was shocked. I know about the voices you can hear under the pylons. That makes sense. So are people from different dimensions trying to get rid of people who may be able to do different things?

Wonder if Phylliss's mum has had the same thing, or heard of it? Or someone else at all...
I pulled on my leggings, an outrageous pair from Fla & Flod, with a leather look panel effect in the middle. Strange feel to them, almost like dressing up. Feeling the flow from the colours of black, I went to the wardrobe to find a jumper I'd not worn much from long ago. A soft greeen, with a silky texture. Now I felt good all the way down the side.... So I added a belt - kinda loosely, so that it hung loosely at the front, and added some charms clipped through the button holes - now I could face the designer public. An imaginative, creative woman who stood out from the crowd.
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Paul rang: his voice sexy, dark, brooding, "Lunch at 2," he said, "I can't make it any earlier."
"Yes," I said feeling warm, sexy, inviting, "I'd love too, I'll fix it with Phyliss."
"Christmas," he said, "Why not move it with me?"
"I can't," I squeaked, panic building busy, "I have to work at the shop, and then there's....."
He laughed. "We both have our lives," he said, "That's not the point. Think about it... Tell me when you're ready to talk about it.
I put down the phone. My hands were shaking. All of me was blushing. I have no rooted objection to getting married, I told myself, yet moving in, moving in, seemed so heavy. I had a house, a life, I did the garden, worked, talked to folk, was me. It would be so much a change. And he disapproved of my leggings.... hated my old blue jeans...
I wasn't so sure as that I could do it.
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On the way to work, I stopped in at Bestgo's I wanted some ear rings, demure studs, that emphasised my ears.
The merchandise had been packed in so tight, that a passing retail assistant knocked it off. She stopped to put it back on. It was my old friend, tall, statesque, with her mouth firmly closed.
I helped her, forgetting that if she took my aid, that made her in debt to me... an old Romany tradition.
She took it, not smiling, smiling.
I hid a grin. I had her... if she was one of them.:)

She moved her way, and I moved further into the shop, my Grandmother's words came back to me across the years,
"What goes round, comes round!" she said firmly, "Remember that! They'll not frighten you again."