A Fragile Cup of Witch's Brew

"I still don't get it."

"Sax, I can see things other people can't. It's a gift that I have. Rather than waste that gift, suppress it and live a normal life like others do, I use my gift to humanity's advantage. It's my calling. It's what I was born to do. I don't expect you to fully understand. But please understand this. There is the physical world and there is the spirit world. We all live in both but can only perceive one. I can perceive, or at least get a glimpse of the other. I am able to communicate between the two."

"What? Are you like a medium then, talking to the dead? Or a clairvoyant or something?"

"Sax, there is way more to it than that."

"Seeing the future?"

"Yes, that too."

"Two worlds, our world and a woo-woo voodoo world?" I asked incredulously.

She put her hands on her hips. "Sax, what are the very first words of your Bible?"

Oh-oh nut bar.

She answered her own question, "In the beginning, God created heaven and earth. You see Sax there is nothing strange in what I'm saying. A material world and a spirit world. Normal people can perceive three dimensions of space, plus let's call it, an arrow of time, right?"

"Yes."

"I can see that too, but I can also see, or more correctly perceive, an added dimension of spacetime, to borrow the physicist's term. A world inhabited by others and by elements of our own living selves.

"And you can see your own death, you can see into the future?"

"Yes. Definitely. But please understand, time in the other world isn't like the arrow of time that we perceive in this world. On the other side, time almost has no meaning."

"What?"

"Don't you see Sax, time is simply the moving image of eternity. The distinction between past, present and future is simply our internalized, persistent illusion. Space and matter are merely the skeletal shadows of our true spiritual reality. As Einstein proved, matter is energy." She paused for a moment before she added, "I know it's hard to wrap the mind around what I'm saying and it's also exceedingly difficult to articulate these concepts in words."

I didn't know what to say.

She continued, "It's all so contrary to our common experience. Nevertheless, it's all true. It's reality."

"But you can see your own death?"

"That is correct, and I can see yours too Sax Reimer, I just can't tell when or where for that matter. Objects, things that aren't living don't matter on the other side. Gold doesn't matter. The outcome of a lottery is of no consequence."

"It is to the winner."

"Not if she's dying of cancer."

"True." She definitely had a point.

She checked on the bread. "In the case of your death Sax, I can say that there is a good indication that you will be old when it happens."

"I'm not certain that I dare to ask...why would you say that?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"No I don't."

She chuckled under her breath, "Almost ready."

I needed to change the subject again. "Okay so you grew up in Montreal watching TV like every other kid. Then what happened? How did you land up living here, living alone?"

"I made a friend, an old soul."

"The dots don't connect. Where did you meet this friend?"

"In Haiti actually."

"Dots still don't connect."

"My friend lives here most of the year, I was invited to come and visit and I landed up coming back every year."

"Where is your old soul friend now?"

She paused for a moment before answering, "Outside on the porch, waiting for me to finish dinner. Graciously giving you and me, some space."

"Oh."

"My friend knows that I have an important decision to make."

I carefully considered my next words. "If I opened the door and looked out, would I see your friend on the porch?"

"I don't think so."

"Would you?"

"Yes, in a certain way. I'm aware of my friend's presence now. The door doesn't matter."

"A spirit?" I asked.

"A ginn."

"A ghost?"

"More of a spiritual creature rather than the spiritual remnants of a person."

"Male or female?"

"Neither," then she quickly added, "both."

"Does your friend have a name?"

"Yes..."

"Let me guess," I cut her off, "Beelzebub?"

"No," she quickly came back with a dark look in her eyes, "He wouldn't be quite so gracious." The dark look lingered. Clearly she didn't think my joke was funny.

"Hess."

"Hess?"

"Yes. Hess."

Sybil was definitely one strange woman. I didn't know if I should believe the whole witch, seeing the future nonsense or whether she was an escapee from some lunatic asylum. Maybe she killed the real Sybil Varro and was living in hiding, and assumed her identity, for some sinister reason. But her niece Dee had the same hair colour. Clairol hair dye could solve that.

The blood type! That'll prove it one way or the other.

Or maybe she really did see ghosts or ginns -- whatever they were.

"Did you ever see the old movie with Jimmy Stewart, he had an imaginary friend named Harvey? It was a giant invisible rabbit," I asked.

"Yes, I recall the movie. Everyone thought Jimmy Stewart was crazy, but the rabbit turned out to be real in the end." She smiled at me, "My friend is not imaginary, is very real and can be very scary."

Scary? I took a sip of my witch's brew.

"So tell me Sybil, are there good spirits and bad spirits?"

"Certainly."

"Kinda like angels and devils?"

"Mmmm, I would say that's a bit simplistic, but yes, in the sense that there are some spirits, demons, that manifest only evil, whereas most are benevolent and some are benign. Just like people."

Bizarre. I took another sip.

"The word genie comes from the word ginn," she said breaking my reverie.

"Oh, so does Hess grant wishes?" I asked kind of tongue in cheek.

She looked at me seriously, "As a matter of fact he does. Shall we show you?" Her expressive lips tried but failed to stifle a smile.

"Okay." Maybe it was the alcohol in the brew making me light headed.

"Hess, I wish that Sax would take it upon himself to bring in the other chair from outside. Oh and the other packages and my letters too. He can leave the new window on the porch for now."

I immediately stood up and placed my teacup on the table. "Yes ma'am."

"Yes Hess."

"Yes Hess."

With some trepidation I stepped outside onto the porch. There were no scary monsters waiting for me. None that I could see.

The sun was starting to set down. It was definitively a little cooler outside and a foggy haze was starting to set in above the water. Berlioz was still sitting in his high perch. The chair was way heavier than I anticipated. I brought in my backpack and set it on the floor together with the four remaining parcels and my life jacket. The window was carefully leaned up against the cabin as directed.

"Sybil, would it be okay if I place my running shoes next to the fire to dry out," I asked as I handed her the small packet of letters.

"Yes, of course." I set the shoes on their sides on the warm hearth, insoles towards the fire. She tucked her letters away without even looking at them.

"You have to understand something Sax. I don't need hundreds or thousands of dollars in payment for what I do. If all I need is another box of candles, or a ride or...whew...a window! I'm happy with that. I get what I need, that's all."

"You really are the most extraordinary person I've ever met."

"Wait until after my decision," she smiled, "your choice of adjectives describing me may change."

She had me pull the small wooden table out from the wall and set both chairs in place so that we would sit across from each other. There were already two silver spoons, two silver knives and a jar of some sort of jam or marmalade sitting on the table. She brought two brownish napkins out from a drawer. She placed an unlit white candle in a brown wooden candlestick on the table between us, but slightly off to one side.

I watched her as she pulled out a large wooden ladling spoon. Clearly for my amusement she flipped her hood over her head, crouched over the cauldron, held the spoon with both hands, stirred and with a croaky voice said, "Double, double toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble!" She then proceeded to cackle away while mock grimacing at me.

I couldn't help but laugh, "Just don't tell me that I'll be King of Scotland!"

"Ahh ha haa. Fair is foul and foul is fair, hover through the fog and filthy air."

I chuckled, "So you know your Shakespeare..."

"Knew my Shakespeare." She flipped her hood off revealing her orangy red mane.

"Knew as in past tense?"

"I'm afraid so, I can't read it anymore."

That seemed odd, "Why's that?"

Sybil stepped over to one of her piles of old books, picked one up and handed it to me. It was the size of a thick Bible. The title was 'The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.' "Open it," she said.

I randomly opened it to...I had to squint...King Richard III.

"The print is too small for me to read anymore."

"Get some reading glasses."

"I know, but it's something I'd have to try on first."

"Ha! It's funny actually Sybil. The seer needs glasses!"

"Haa ha haa!" She really was beautiful.

I put the book back on to the shelf and watched her ladle four big scoops of stew from the cauldron into each of the two crude wooden bowls. From the stone oven she pulled her bread out with the flat wooden paddle and set it onto a wooden board set between our two bowls. Steam rose from the bread and the bowls of stew.

She hung the black kettle over the fire.

We sat across from each other, the bowls were in front of us. I was starving. My mouth was watering. She reached both of her hands out towards mine.

"Hold my hands for a moment before we start." I reached for her hands, they were warm and soft. My skin tingled again from her touch.

She stared into my eyes with her dark eyes, "Thank you for this food," she started, "thank you for offering yourselves to us, we are honoured to share our lives with yours. Thank you for bringing Sax Reimer safely to this table tonight, to partake in this feast in your honour."

"Amen." I said and then wondered if it was the right thing to say as she dropped her hands from mine. A smile washed across her lovely lips. I immediately missed her touch.

"Please enjoy," she said picking up her spoon.

"Hmmm is this ever good..." I said. It was delicious. "Seriously what's in it?"

"As I said to you Sax...frog."

"Excellent frog, Sybil."

I couldn't help but devour the food. It was so good. It was exactly what I needed. I watched her as she grinned watching me pack back the stew. It was warm, meaty, with all kinds of vegetables and full of flavour. I felt that I was eating something that was not only tasty but profoundly nutritious too. It was like every cell in my body was screaming in delight. It was physical satisfaction condensed in a spoon. A work of culinary art, borne in the bush.

"Frog?"

"Yes Sax. Bullfrog."

I had another two mouthfuls before I asked, "Tell me, do you eat bear or moose or elk?"

"Oh no."

I took another two spoonfuls before I asked with a little trepidation, "Because they have names? They're your pets? Part of your community? What was mama bear's name?"

"Gladys."

"That's right Gladys Knight and her two pips."

"Ha ha ha! See you're fitting right in aren't you?"

"I get it, Gladys will be just a little tad pissed off if we eat one of her pips."

She stopped eating and looked at me for a moment. "No Sax. I don't think you get it at all."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" I was trying to be funny.

She resumed eating. "We said a sort of grace before eating."

"Yes."

"Who were we thanking?" She queried me.

"God?"

"Always, but not directly in this case."

"Who then?" I asked hoping it wouldn't be Hess or Harvey the rabbit for that matter.

"The frogs."

"The frogs?" We were praying to frogs? "Which frogs?" I asked. That was definitely cuckoo.

"The ones that gave up their lives to prolong and nourish yours and mine." She was serious, staring straight into my eyes. She wasn't smiling. "The ones in this stew."

I stopped eating for a moment.

She continued, "Oh the frogs tried to jump away when I caught them," she said as she motioned her hand in a frog catching action, "it's their natural instinct to do so. But believe me Sax, they gladly gave up their lives to continue living on through us. Don't you see?"

"I guess," I said, I picked up the bread, "may I?"

"Certainly."

I broke off a piece.

"Don't you see Sax, my situation is no different than the frogs. Although my instinct is to jump away in self-preservation, the questions that I need to answer are, should I give up my life to preserve Dee's? Will I continue to live, in a fashion, through her? And most importantly, will humanity be served better by her continued existence on this planet or mine?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Neither do I, that's the point," she broke herself off a piece of bread "Well here's the thing Sax. As a seer I should be able to readily answer those questions. But the problem that I have is that my human judgment is clouding my ability to answer. My human instinct just wants me to jump away. I can't see through to the true answers to those questions. Those questions are precisely of the same type and of the same gravity that I'm constantly being approached to answer."

"They are?"

"Absolutely. Routinely."

"Really?"

"Only this time, because it involves me, I can't answer. I need to consult my community."

"So the seer needs a seer?"

"So it seems."

It seemed to me that the candle spontaneously lit itself. I didn't see her pull out a lighter, nor did I hear the quiet roar of a match being lit.

Very odd.

I finished off what was in my bowl by dragging the warm bread through the bowl to pick up the last of the stew. "Sybil, that was beyond excellent. In a way I'm shocked that something that you've basically scrounged up in the bush here could be so tasty and so satisfying."

"Healthy eating is the basis of healthy living."

"Wow." I took a deep breath, "Sybil, I'm almost afraid to ask, what kind of bread was that?"

"It's a variety of local grains and ground meal, mainly reindeer moss, jack-in-the pulpit corns, inner bark of tamarack, it changes from week to week."

"It was very good," I said as I cleaned my mouth with the napkin, "thank you so much."

"And good for you too," she added as she picked up the bread, "please have another piece of bread, you've got to try the jelly I made."

"Sure, but just a small piece."

"We've got to finish it all right now. We can't have waste. The jelly is serviceberry, I made it this year." She piled a big thick glob onto my bread and spread it slowly with a knife while staring in my eyes. Somehow she made it an erotic event. The bread and jam was excellent, full of flavour and not too sweet.

I clutched my belly when I finished eating. "Sybil, words can't express how good that meal was. Thank you so much."

"Words won't have to," she answered smirking while reaching across the table for my spent bowl and spoon.

She stood up gathering her bowl too.

"Sybil, I'm afraid I need to go to the bathroom," I stood up from my chair and stepped over to my backpack, "where do I go?" I found my flashlight.

"A flashlight, how quaint," she said as she poured water from a red plastic bucket into a low metal basin sitting on one of the cupboards. "If you can wait a moment you won't need one."

"Huh?"

She put the bowls and cutlery into the metal basin to wash-up. "There is an outhouse behind the cabin and a well worn path as you step out from the door to the right." With a rag in hand she picked up the black kettle from the fire. "Go right past the woodpile and still shed." She poured hot water into the basin.

I must have had an odd expression on my face.

She held up her hand, the other held a big bar of grayish soap, "Just give us a moment."

"Us?" I asked as I slipped my still damp running shoes back on.

"Yes, Sax, we're a community, not a bunch of magicians. Can you hold it in for another moment or so? You should have said something before to give us a heads-up."

"Very strange Sybil."

"There will be a pile of leaves stacked within easy reach of your right hand."

I looked at her funny.

"Okay off you go. You can leave your flashlight here, you won't need it."

I put my flashlight back into my backpack.

With a little trepidation I stepped out through the front door. It was pitch dark outside and a bit cooler, however it was still a warm July night. I didn't see anyone named Hess, nor anyone else on the porch. It was too dark to figure out if Berlioz was still up the tree. Bullfrogs were groaning away in the distance. I nearly collided with the window as I stepped off the porch and turned the corner around the side of the cabin.

I could not believe my eyes. The path was illuminated by fireflies! They were streaming in from the woods and congregating along the pathway, lighting my way.

Sybil really was a witch. At that very moment, I was thoroughly convinced that she was. What I was witnessing, as I walked along the path, was not natural. It was nature, but it was definitely not behaving naturally.

The outhouse had a carved vent opening in the rough boards of the door, a crescent moon and two stars.

With the door left open, the fireflies gave off enough light to allow me to go about my business. The leaves were soft, yet strong. Sybil had stocked her outhouse with nature's perfect solution. How thoughtful.

I stepped down the path to wash my hands in the pond next to my canoe on the way back. The fireflies moved in a clump before and around me, almost anticipating my movements, almost leading me on. In spite of the fog, I could see the ground and out across the water for a good ten feet all around me. It was absolutely incredible.

As I washed my hands, I swear for just a moment, there was a face looking back up at me from under the still water. Very strange. Very strange also that I didn't come across a single mosquito. Bullfrogs, but no mosquitoes, how odd. I wondered if I'd just eaten the frog's siblings and uncles.

The fireflies dissipated as I stepped up onto the porch.

"Well that was quite illuminating Sybil. You'll have to teach me how to do it." I said as I stepped inside.

She smiled, "And you can learn Sax. Anyone can do it. But I have to admit," she said with a giggle, "it is a bit tricky. Nevertheless, fireflies are quick to learn, they're amazingly," she turned to look at me with a smile, "bright."

"Ohhh, groan," I said, "trust me Sybil, keep your day job. Stand-up comedy won't be putting food on your table. Not out here." I cupped my face with my open hands, palms out, "I see your future. I see you...seeing."

"For how long? Sax, that's the question."

"I'm sorry Sybil, I didn't mean to bring that up."

"It's quite alright. Listen, while you were gone I realized that I'd not fully answered a question you had."

"Oh?" I sat back down on the central chair and pulled off my damp runners.

"About eating bear, moose or elk meat." Sybil was drying a wooden bowl.

"Mnnuh?"

"I've nothing against it. As you know as I explained, their death would indeed be a celebration of life."

"Oh?" I placed the shoes back by the fire, this time just a little closer, with the insoles facing the low flames and the laces well loosened and the tongue splayed opened.

"I'm sure they would gladly give themselves up, after a natural struggle of course, just like the frogs or the fish that I catch, but it's too much meat. It would be a complete waste of food, of life. It wouldn't be right. You do understand that?"

"I think I do." I sat back down in the armchair facing the fire.

"If there were thirty mouths to feed every night, it would be a reasonable solution, but there isn't. There's only me. And tonight, with only the two of us dining, frogs were fine."