Dreamworld Visitations

If I’m lucky, they’ll tell stories of the journeys they take across landscapes as alien as anything in Oz. “I ended up in someone’s garden,” they explain. “Only they were a sort of – scarecrow accordion? I apologized, and they let me cut through their house.” “Why did you need to go through their house?” I ask, and they pause, thoughtful. “Because that was the easiest way to get to you.”

Oathring

“How are you supposed to know you gave up anything, if nothing changes?”

Column: Postmark 221B, Baker Street

If Dionysos could show up uninvited and distinctive in my life, and Darcy Lewis could become a defining characteristic of a fandom where she hardly existed in the main text, why did I only consider one of those a person? I could not find a satisfactory answer, so I turned to the greatest mind I knew. I called Sherlock Holmes.

Column: Tending the Altar

This is why I tend my altars so often: things change. I have a tendency to forget things that I do not put my hands on occasionally.

Column: Jack of the Lantern

Now, everyone knows a Jack tale. There’s the one about the beanstalk, sure, and most have heard a story or two about him in one of his many run-ins with the devil. The details change, but the man is the same.