Shop Keeper

The dense curtain of fog had parted quickly with shuffling feet and bowed low with respect to the imposing figure that swept through it. She had known it was him by the way he carried himself. Confident and commanding. Powerful and intimidating. Dark and mysterious. The Satori of The Coven. Tony Bouchard.

It had been many moons since that encounter, but she had not forgotten the words he had spoken to her.

"It is how you use what you see..."
"...figure out what you want to do with it first...then worry about it..."
"Think about what I said...really think about it."
"...Then come find me again.”

Bethany tapped on the wall to the back room of the Voodoo Shop, she parted the beaded glass curtain and peered inside. The room was empty. She walked to his desk and placed her letter upon it, in hopes he would return soon to read it.



::the penmanship is graceful and elegant in the cursive script::


Dear Mr. Bouchard,

I have wanted to write to you in some time now, but didn't have the courage to pick up my pen. As it is, I will now convey what I have held within for so long.

I wish to thank you for giving me shelter in your shoppe when I was lost and alone. Your generous kindness meant more to me than you could possibly know.

Since our last conversation, I have had the opportunity to think on all that you had said to me. Your words forced me to confront myself, to accept what I am, who I am. I am still discovering and learning about this gift, or perhaps I still wonder, this curse that is a part of me.

As I wander, I see the true faces of hell's darkest creatures. There are some I see with the horrid blood red glow upon them and they will bleed rivers in battle. I have tried to warn some of their fate, but only to be scoffed at. Unfortunate deaths became them. So, this is what it is.

Perhaps, my gift will be of use to you some day, sir, as I am hoping it will.

With earnest sincerity, may I be so bold as to ask for sanctuary within The Coven, sir? It is the only place that has calmed my soul in this dark city.

Affectionately,

Bethany


::the faintest scent of apple blossoms linger::