All the magick that I know…
A cowboy sits on a rock in the middle of right next door to nowhere, plucking away at a guitar missing several strings with fingers missing several of the necessary talents to adequately play the thing. He is joined around a fire by a donkey, a goat and a dog. None of them have seen a human being in the last six months, and they’re all most likely slightly crazy from interacting with only eachother and the sneaky desperate sounds of night.
The cowboy is recanting the many magickal things he has seen in his life.
“Well, my friends, I’ve come across a world of wonder. You’ve just got to look at it from the right angle to see.” He lights up a cigarette, the paper made from an unwound cactus needle and the inside composed of whatever leafy vegetation he could muster in those desolate foothills.
“I’ve known a philosopher monk who can set his spirit free from his body and look down on himself from the outside. I’ve shared a drink or two with a scholar hermit who comes out of his shell more often than perhaps he should, what with his title and all, but when he does he has all sorts of amazing realizations to impart to you.”
The wind picked up, almost as if to silence the man. Mortals aren’t to know of these sorts of things, but the cowboy had faith in the donkey and the goat. They wouldn’t be telling anyone. That damn dog was always running off though, so he cast the mutt an evil eye and went on.
“I’ve had a black witch cast a spell over me and my best friend, to make us hate eachother. Then she cast another spell on me to forgive her and fall in love with her. I still do. Once a pixie goddess played the harp for me until my heart was broken in two, only to fill the space with a little piece of her soul so that I might go out into the world seeing things as they really are. It was between her and the faerie gypsy that I was finally able to see the light of all the magick that’s out there. I’d always known it existed, but until those two I was never able to pick it apart from the rest of the world.”
The desert sand came swirling up around his rock, desperately reaching to cling to his boots. “I have a friend who lives near here, a golden Greek god who is one of the last of his kind, trying desperately to get back his inner soul power. He spends his days shaping his body and mind until one day he’ll just flitter up off of this world forever. I also know a soothsayer, a real ethereal soul sorceress, who can stick her own spirit right inside of you, suck up all of your energy, and leave you satisfied at the whole experience.”
The cowboy put down the guitar and finished his smoke. He fell asleep sitting up on that rock and if his life would’ve been taken at that very moment, he’d still be a richer man than most gods.
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