How I Reached This Place/Work in Progess

Prologue
There is a moment in time when you glance over at a complete stranger and are instantly drawn to them. There no reasoning to it. You don't think they are familar, you aren't attracted to them, you don't find their clothes of any interest. Yet you can't seem to keep your eyes away. Again and again your eyes drift back over to them as much as you try to keep them focused elsewhere. It is like a moth to flame. But what is the cause for this? Why do they command your attention so much? Then the moment passes. They walk away or maybe you do. Prehaps you'll never see them again, at least not in this lifetime. And you live and die never knowing why. It has been suggested that the cause for this is that your soul recongizes them from a past life. Maybe they were your mother, father, sibling, or friend. Maybe they were an enemy or a lover or an annoying neighbor. But what if they were intended for you in this life? And what if you just missed some amazing chance that would have altered your life in so many ways; that one opportunity that would have introduced to everyone and everything that would make your dreams come true? Could you sleep at night knowing you just missed that one chance to do everything and nothing at all? I couldn't.In fact, I can't.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn't agreed to go shopping with Cassidy on that particular Saturday and we hadn't have gone into that particular clothing store, The Suitcase. Certainly it would have been easier but would I have been any happier? I mean truly happier. I don't know why I wonder. It doesn't matter now. I made my choice and there's no going back. Well, Vincent seems to be convinced that I actually could go back but I'm not sure if I believe that. Vincent believes in all sorts of things that I can't even imagine, much less have faith in. They all do. Prehaps it is because I'm just now being exposed to this, maybe the human logic that has been shoved down my throat since a young age actually took root. Funny isn't it? The things and ideas you fight the hardest against often end up being some of the last ones you let go of. At least it seems that way to me. But who am I to judge? If nothing else, I have learned that I'm not like other people. The one good thing that came out of all of this, the one thing that will always be good, is that I did learn that I'm not alone, that I'm not the outsider I thought I was. Sure, other good things happened. But what if they change and then they might not be so good one day? Nothing is what it seems. All of life is an illusion. When did I become so cynical? There was a time, prehaps when I was very young, I had faith in everything being perfect and remaining so. Now when I find something good, I just wait for it to turn bad.

I suppose you are terribly confused and I am very sorry. I had no intention of confusing you. Before I begin to explain, let me tell you that my life is not yet over. So I will begin with that Saturday with Cassidy and work my way forward. I am still living this so as we go along, the tale will become more and more . . . . what is the word I want? Recent? No, that doesn't feel right. I could assume that you know what I mean since my words fail me. Yes, I have faith in your intelligence and assume that you know what I mean. If not, it is a reflection of my lack of being able to express myself and not a reflection on your ability to interpert my work. I own a dictionary but there's no telling how long I would be sitting, going through it, looking for the word I want. Give me a moment to make myself comfortable and then I shall begin. Hmm . . . another thought has crossed my mind. I feel I should warn you of the content of this particular tale. If you have any problems with homosexuality or supernatural events, I wouldn't advise you to listen any further. I would not be offended if you left since it would certainly save a lot of arguing on both our parts and I am not in the mood to argue. Just be sure to close the door behind you. It's getting cold out and I'd rather not freeze to death.

Now for those of you who are left, take a seat. I would offer you something to drink but I doubt there's anything in my refridgerator that you'd want. What? Oh, that noise. I suppose I've become rather used to it. Don't worry about it for the time being. When the time is right, I'll explain and prehaps even introduce you to the creature that is making that sound. Yes, I said creature but don't be so frighten. She won't hurt you. Believe me, she's much smaller than the noise suggests. What did you ask? My name? I'm sorry, I am afraid I have forgotten my manners. My name is Jennifer North and I'm from South Trisdale. In fact, my story begins in South Trisdale.

South Trisdale
"Look at this dress! Isn't it pretty?!" Cassidy asked in an excited voice. I had to turn around because I had been looking at another dress. After a moment of studying the light blue dress with its white flowers, I nodded, "It is a pretty dress." "I think I'm going to go and try it on," she said, handing me her purse and heading off. I watched her in amusement. Cassidy had been my best friend since middle school and she had yet to fail in making me laugh. I shifted my arms to better support her purse and the sweater I had already been carrying. Christmas music played over the store's speakers and outside, it was barely forty degrees. Cassidy had called that morning and said that we could go Christmas shopping which I knew meant Cassidy could go Christmas shopping for herself. If there ever was a true shopaholic, Cassidy was it. I made my way over to the dressing room since I knew that she would soon be out, demanding to know my opinion. Sure enough, just as I sat down in one of those straight backed chairs that seem to sit in front of dressing rooms everywhere, she came out, already calling for me, "Jenny!" "It looks good but maybe you should go a size smaller. It looks sort of loose," I said, making her laugh. "It's supposed to be loose," she told me, taking the sides in her hands and spinning around like you see little girls do, "I think I'm going to buy it." "Great. Then we need to head home. It's getting late and it's supposed to snow," I reminded her, nodding toward the windows at the front of the store. Cassidy sighed, "Can we at least stop by that store that Elizabeth told me about? The Suitcase or whatever it's called."

If I had known what that store held me, I might have said no and insisted on going home then. Or maybe I would have hurried her up and demanded on going there myself. I wish I knew what I would have done. But one of life's great mysteries is that you don't know what you would have done. Even with 20/20 hindsight so to speak, I still don't know what I would have done. For all my knowledge, I am still very lost. I do know that my life would have been extremely different if I had never entered that store. But I suppose she would have found me somewhere else. In her own words, she was meant to find me and nothing would have stopped her from accomplishing that. But even she admits that she was surprised when we came across each other so soon. I wonder if she would have left me alone then if she knew if sure we would have crossed paths again. But I suppose she had to do it when she knew she could. Opps, I'm getting ahead of myself. Allow me to return to the story.

It was already quite dark by the time we found the place. My entire life had been lived in South Trisdale and never had I seen this store, much less been inside. But our friend Elizabeth had 'discovered' it the weekend before and had called Cassidy, raving about the clothes as well as the prices. I followed Cassidy through the door and was surprised by the decor. Elizabeth prefered fancy little boutiques but this store reminded me more of a fortune teller's booth. The lighting was dim and near the ceiling was a shelf that ran on three walls with lit candles on it. Incense burned on the counter where the cash register was. The clothes themsevles seemed to be geared more toward modern day hippies or wiccans, no disrepect to either group intended. The paintings were of nature scenes: a creek flowing under a wooden bridge, a flower in bloom, etc. Several wooden carvings were also hung up: a cross, a Celtic knot, and others that I'm not sure I could properly identify. "Wow," Cassidy muttered beside me. I'm not sure what she had expected based on what Elizabeth had told her but I doubt it was what we were looking at.

But as strange as it was, the strangest part was that there didn't apper to be anybody there but us. No one stood behind the counter, no custmers were going through the clothes, it was empty. Just as I was about to tell Cassidy that we should leave, a bell rang out. You know how most stores have that bell above the door that goes off every time the doors opens. Cassidy and I both turned to see an older woman walk in. She merely smiled at us and went over to the counter. After a moment of silence, us looking at her, her looking back, she spoke, "Just wait a few more minutes." "What for what?" Cassidy asked before I could. Then the bell went off again."Custmers! Sorry to have kept you waitng," the man exclaimed, smiling warmly, "Looking for something in particular or just browsing?" "Just browsing," Cassidy managed to say before grabbing my arm and practically dragging me to the far corner of the store where she immediately began flipping through clothes. I crossed my arms and waited because I knew what was coming.

Sure enough, the moment the man had his back to us, talking to the woman, Cassidy turned to me, her eyes lit up in excitement. "Isn't he gorgerous?" she whispered, glancing back over to him. I also looked. I had to admit that the man was attractive with his curly black hair and fit body. "Yea, he's good looking," I replied, causing her to hit me lightly with her purse. "He can hear you," she hissed and I laughed. The noise caused the woman to look up and we locked eyes. My laughter died in my throat. I wondered if she was the man's mother. But I rejected that because she didn't look old enough to have a son of his age. We played some bizarre staring contest for a few moments then I looked away, turning to Cassidy. She was still going through the same clothes, glancing up to look at the man. I was reminded of high school when she would open her locker door and then peek around it to catch a glimpse of Cody Parker whose locker was right down from hers. It's nice to know that some things never change. But that has no relevance to this, now does it?

I walked around the rack of clothes and began shuffling through the other side, But as I stood there, I too kept glancing back up to the counter. But not because of the man. No, the woman held my attention. I know I warned you about homosexuality earlier and I am sure you are jumping to the conclussion that this is the beginning of that. Well, I'm going to go ahead and tell you that it isn't. There was nothing sexual about it. But she did demand my attention and I was confused by that. What bothered me even more was the fact that she seemed to be intrigued by me as well. Finally Cassidy asked me if I was ready to go. I nodded and headed toward the door. "You found nothing?" the man asked as I started to push open the door. "No," I told him. He grinned, "Nothing at all?" "Nope," I said, shoving the door open. "Me neither," Cassidy added, stepping in right behind me "Wait," the woman called, causing me to turn. Cassidy almost crashed into me and for some reason we all laughed. The woman came out from behind the counter.

It was like I had dreamed it. Perfectly in my mind was an image. She would reach out and touch my necklace, the one I had wore every since I had found it the summer I had lived with aunt when I was eight. Then she would asked where I had gotten it. All of that flashed in my mind in those few seconds it took her to walk over to us. Now I have had dreams before then and later had pieces of those dreams come true. But never had I seen something in my mind like that, at least not so vividly. It scared the hell out of me. And the year before I had been in a plane that had nearly crashed so I have good reason to know how to judge being scared.

Well, my mind was close but not exact. Which, I admit, relieved me some. She didn't actually reach out. She merely pointed to it, "Where did you get that?" Automatically I lifted it up and looked down. It was a small flat stone with a bizarre looking symbol carved on it hanging on a brown cord. Right after I had found it, I had kissed it before bed each night and later I had kissed it every time I made a wish. "I found it," I replied. Cassidy looked confused but the man was listening as if it interested him as well. It was then that the woman reached out and took it in her hands. Running her thumb over it, she asked, "Where?" 'My aunt's house," I answered as she dropped it and stepped back. She smiled and said, "Well, it's very pretty." At the time I thought that was rather odd seeing as how it was a stone on a cord with a carvng on it. It didn't seem very pretty to me but who was I to judge someone else's idea of pretty?

For the next few weeks, I returned to The Suitcase again and again. Alone. While Cassidy thought the man was a 'total hottie', she also thought that they were 'creepy'. In fact, she really didn't want me to go back. But I went against her better sense and mine. Sometimes the woman was there. Sometimes she wasn't. If she was, I would slip into the back and occasionally glance at her, all the while wondering just what it was about her that was making me act this way. I judged her to be about ten years older than me, making her about thirty five, with short blonde hair and green eyes. But like I mentioned before, I wasn't attracted to her. If I had been, my actions would have . . . well they would have been easier to understand. Before you ask, I'll go ahead and tell you. Yes, I have been attracted to women before and once, I was briefly, very briefly, involved with a woman named Denise. And I am telling you that this was completely different.

Back to what I was saying. If the woman wasn't there, I would leave pretty much immediately. The man, as good looking as he was, didn't hold my attention. Of course I knew that at some point they would realize what I was doing and demand to know why. I also knew that I wouldn't have a reason which bothered me. Never had I acted without any clue as to why. And it scared me. Correction: it disturbed me. Isn't that what separates humans from animals? Our logic, our reasoning? The realization that I had someow lost that . . . well, it destroys something in you. I can't explain it. I suppose it's something that must be experienced, lived. And somehow, deep inside, I knew it wasn't going to get any better.

Out of fear, both of the condition of my own sanity and her reaction, I managed to force myself to quit going to The Suitcase after about three weeks. I tried to throw myself back into my life before that Saturday. But I failed. I laid awake at night, questions running through my head: who was she, why did I care, why did any of matter? I hate to quote a movie but I find this particular line accurate: "Has a special fate been calling you and you not listening? Is there a secret message right in front of you and you're not reading it? Is this your last, best chance? Are you gonna take it? Or are you going to the grave with unlived lives in your veins?" That's how it felt. I just knew that I was drawn to her because she was supposed to show me something, anything.

Maybe two months passed, My life was slowly starting to resemble itself and I was slowly pushing thoughts and questions about the woman out of my head. Then Darren asked me out. I had known Darren for about two years and after he and his girlfriend broke earlier in the year, he had been doing everything but holding up a sign saying I like you to let me know that, well, he liked me. In fact, I'm surprised he waited as long as he did before asking me out on a date. I agreed because Darren's a nice guy and I needed the distraction. So the night arrived and Darren takes me to dinner and a movie. All in all, the night goes wonderfully. But as he's taking me back to my house, he realizes that he needs gas. So we stop at a Shell station and I sit in his car while he pumps the gas and goes inside to pay.

As I sat in his car, I was just sort of looking out the window, not really paying any attention when suddenly I saw the woman. She was crossing in front of the car, heading toward this little blue car. Abrruptly she hestitated and turned toward me. My instincts were screaming 'look away!' but I couldn't. She smiled at me and the next thing I knew, she was by the door, already opening it, "Hello Jenny. I think we need to talk". Then I heard Darren, "Are you okay?" I jumped and realized that I had imagined it. There's a scary feeling, to know that you imagined something so vividly and that it seemed so real when it wasn't The little blue car was there but there was only a man in it. I had imagined it all. That was when I made my decision. To hell with the results, I was going to figure this out. Even if I ended up in a mental hospital.

The next day I practically stormed into The Suitcase after another sleepless night. She was behind the counter and she smiled as I walked directly over to her. "What is your name?" I demanded, "Who the hell are you?" Obviously not the most tactful approach but let's face it, I wasn't exactly behaving like a normal functioning adult anyway. At the moment it meant nothing but late I realized that she didn't even blink. She didn't seem all the surprised, in fact, she seemed pleased. "Marrisa Silvey," she answered, "Recongize it, don't you?"

You never truly learn something. Your soul already knows everything it needs to know, it merely needs to be reminded. Sometimes all it takes is a glance or a word for your soul to be filled with memories. That name: Marrisa Silvey. It brought to mind all sorts of memories. Of course they all flashed by too fast for me to recall any of them just a few moments later. But she was right. I did recongize it. Well, at least my soul did.

"Well now that you know my name, I think it's only right you give me yours," she went on, "You already know it," I replied. I don't know why I said that but once I had, I knew she did. She had always known. She laughed, "I suppose I do know, Jenny North." I said nothing and she reached out and lifted my necklace up. "Do you believe in past lives?" she asked, studying the stone. "I don't know," I answered and she glanced up at me and smiled. "I suppose you don't." "I don't understand any of this," I told her and instead of being confused like I thought she would, she nodded. "I know and I'm sorry. I could explain it to you but you wouldn't believe me," she said.

She was right. If she had told me the past, the present, the future, I probably would have walked out of there. Instead she introduced me into the world I was meant to be in and allowed me to learn for myself. Even seeing the things I saw, hearing what I heard, I still had issues accepting it all. If she had merely told me, I would have never believed it. I would have written her off as a fruitcake. But I can't now because if she's one, so am I. Which means that you are listening to the ramblings of a mad woman. Reasurring, isn't it?

Over the next several weeks, Marrisa showed me a world I hadn't known existed or rather I had refused to admit existed. I was introduced to people who followed Wicca and people who claimed to have powers and people who knew me before we ever laid eyes on one another. The last group usually consisted of people who were in at least one of the first two if not both. I learned that Marrisa believed that in our past lives, she had been my older sister, which she claimed accounted for our immediate connection and interest in one another.

Wait, prehaps I need to slow down. Marrisa is . . . a witch. Of course she doesn't like the term but it is the one that best fits. And according to her, I am one as well. I still have my doubts even though I must admit that under her guidance, odd things have happened and by all apperences, I am the one that made them happen. But I will get to those later. I could go through and give you the details of those first weeks but there are other, more important things to focus on.

Wait, prehaps I need to slow down. Marrisa is . . . a witch. Of course she doesn't like the term but it is the one that best fits. And according to her, I am one as well. I still have my doubts even though I must admit that under her guidance, odd things have happened and by all apperences, I am the one that made them happen. But I will get to those later. I could go through and give you the details of those first weeks but there are other, more important things to focus on.

The first thing Marrisa did was introduce me to people she thought that I needed to know. The owner of The Suitcase, Vincent Petrovich, was among those people. Vincent is a modern day Wiccan and all that that implies. Some of you may recall that I mentioned Vincent at the very beginning of all of this. Since I have been properly introduced to him, Vincent has become a dear friend. As supportive as she is, Marrisa gets annoyed rather easily with me sometimes, especially when it comes to matters of magic. But Vincent has been nothing but patient. Even if Marrisa has stormed out in frustration, Vincent is still there, doing his best to asisit me. Marrisa claims that her lack of patience with me is another sign of our being sisters since older ones do tend to get annoyed with younger ones.

Xavier Ingram and Remi Tsikinovsky were almost among the first that Marrisa allowed me to meet. Xavier is a Mexican-American while Remi is from the Ukraine. I know that Xavier is Marrisa's lover even though they both deny it. Any fool who cares to look close enough can tell. To be honest, I don't care that much for Xavier. He is type who believes that he is better than everyone else. Remi, however, is okay. She is rather quiet but I know she's intelligent, extremely so. When she speaks, the others listen which says enough in itself. But we aren't friends or anything. In fact, she has barely spoken to me but then again, she barely speaks to anyone so I'm not too offended. More often then not, she's at the piano, assuming there is one, playing music.

Of course I met other people through Marrisa. But I have failed to see why they are revelant. Aside from meeting these people, Marrisa gave me some books to read, which supposedly would help me 'understand'. I read the books, They were mostly over the history of witchcraft, reincarnation, and Wicca in general. While they were full of information, they bored me and I told Marrisa so. She found this amusing but refused to take me to a 'ritual meeting' until she thought that I was mentally prepared. However, she did decide to take me to meet a 'very special pair'. "If you can handle them, then I'll take you to a meeting," she promised.

Which brings me to the next section of my story: Hanney. Some of you may know that Hanney is a town about twenty miles east of South Trisdale. If it is true that meeting Marrisa in The Suitcase changed my life, then it is also true that who I met in Hanney changed my destiney. Don't look so confused. My life until that moment in The Suitcase had been simple: wake up, go to work, hang out with friends. After that, my life no longer followed any sort of routine. After going to Hanney, even that changed. It was no longer just about learning how this new world worked, it also became about learning how she worked, what made her tick.

Hanney
Before I get too deep into this part, I feel the need to address something. I am sure some of you are wondering why I have appered to have accepted this so well. Well I didn't, I haven't. Every morning I wake up, wondering if it's all a dream. Or if I am simply crazy. Or prehaps both. But I can't allow myself to focus on it too much because there's so much going on. I pretend to accept it and go on. But at least I sleep at night again. Of course, that sleep is filled with dreams and images but it's better than laying there, staring up at the ceiling night after night.

Marrisa picked me up early the morning of the trip. "What is so special about these people?" I asked her as she pulled out onto the highway. "Nothing . . . and everything," she replied which sort of pissed me off. Marrisa talks in riddles sometimes and it drives me crazy. But lately I have noticed that I have begun to do it as well. Silence filled the car until we were actually in Boulder County which is where Hanney is located. "If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just say so," she told me, causing me to look at her. "Okay," I replied slowly even though I wasn't sure that I could just announced such a thing, 'hey guys, this is bizarre. I'm creeped out'. It seemed sort of juvenile.

Several minutes later we were pulling up in front of a rather sad looking house. It was two story with a wrap-around porch on both floors. Actually, it reminded me of the house in Forest Gump a little, only smaller and not taken care of as well. The front door stood wide open and to my surprise, Marrisa went right in. "This looks like it's abandoned," I commented to her as I walked in behind her. She laughed, "Shows what you know." She walked toward the back and I followed like a lost puppy dog. Every room we passed was empty, or nearly so. There was actually leaves along the hallway that had apperantly blown in. Finally she headed up the stairs which didn't look strong enough to support a bag of feathers. After some hesitation, I went up after her.

With every step, the stairs popped and groaned. I completely expected them to collaspe, taking me down with them. But I managed to get to the top with no accidents which still amazes me. Marrisa was nowhere in sight and I wasn't shocked to see a squrriel at one of the open doors. I had the feeling that this house gave new meaning to the term 'open house'. I watched the squrriel dash back into the room as I took a step forward. "Jenny, come here!" Marrisa called then. I sighed and then headed into the room from which she had called.