the shenanigans of life

It was more like a small mess, and a small mess can only create so much of a plot. But if you’re a graduating writer, you’ll earn how to bullshit some plot out. Writers are like witches. Give them the characters and a mess, they will create something for you. And it’s a bonus if the writer is a witch.

So yes, gather round the summoning circle and... the forgotten ship has retrieved the anchor.

ALL ABOARD!

“Wait!” and everyone’s attention was pulled to the matchmaker; the maker of the ship. “Look, I understand you both wants this ship to sail.” And ok, this doesn’t sound good. It sounded much like the “We need to talk” kinda talk and honestly, even as a witch, you still disliked it. “But I don’t wanna let this ship set sail.” She continued and everyone’s eyes widened. You were pretty sure that all she’s lacking was the word, “...yet.” but there wasn’t any.

She is the maker, so despite the pleasure and the long-ass groan coming from Sean, there wasn’t much anyone can do.

“It’s a nightmare!! WHAT A NIGHTMARE!” Dee exclaimed, reading the newest edition of the story. A nightmare but she still reads it anyway. It was the only entertainment onboard the whole ship right now. “But it’s a dream come true!” Sean exclaimed, gleefully.

You believed in the human saying; one man’s nightmare is another man’s dream.

Or something like that. Humans are weird. But you liked them, especially a particular tall human that you’ve noticed during Christmas. He was nice.

Sean gave you a thumbs up, mouthing “DAEBAK!” and you nodded in thanks.

“Keep on dreaming, Sean.” Dee said, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

“And if you need me, I’ll be somewhere on this ship, writing away.” You said, walking away to a corner of the ship. The ship ain’t big, but it was enough to support the people onboard when Colette does her summoning spell again.

Because first you were trash-talking (ok, giving updates on certain aspects of your seemingly mundane life) and the next thing you know this line that your oh so graceful friend of yours bellowed through the empty halls of “SEAN, YOUR WIFE MISSES YOU.”

You know three things for sure;

There is no ring on her finger. So she’s still single and the last you’ve heard, they were still confused as ever. So yes, you’re still confused.

Sean is not here.

Does she really miss Sean? Who ever knows?

“Awww~” a voice cooed. And you swear you nearly jumped out of your seat. Did Colette just do a summoning spell and summoned a friend of yours? “Leng?” She smiled and did a wave. “Hey, did I miss anything?” Ok, you were pretty sure she was caught up with whatever is going on now. You gave her a thumbs up, “You’re all good.”

The air stilled. You saw a well-known cheeky grin growing on Van’s face. You knew that face. Very familiar, in fact. “It’s here.” And the ever so confused female counterpart just asked, “What’s here?” At this point, you were pretty sure she as just feigning confusion. But that just adds more spices to this whole damn plot (which to be honest, bloomed out of nowhere).

You cracked your fingers as you leaned back against the chair you are sitting on. The same cheeky grin on your face, matching Van’s. Dee looked at you, “Is it time to get busy again?” Well, to be honest, if it’s a good enough mess, the mess will become the plot. You poked your direction to Van, “Depends on her.”

Suddenly, all of a you felt an additional presence.

Ah, he’s here.

“Oh, is it?” Yes, he’s here. “You know, she could have just come and find me anytime, ya know? I’ve got no objections to that.” Dee just gave a side eye to her male pair. 

“It’s your chance!” Colette squealed excitedly. An open invitation, there was no objections. A stronger side-eyed if that was humanly possible. Then, regained her composure. “‘Am I missing out on anything?” Dee asked. Ah, the feigning confused act is back. “Is the ship getting sailed, once again?” Dee asked.

It never sank. Just forgotten.

“You know where to find me.” And as quick as he appeared, he disappeared once again.

So yes, back to the question, you solemnly believe that you’re out of touch, summoning chants are the in-thing now and your dear friend has just summoned two at once.

You looked at the now very-confused Leng, and the remaining party.

“Now what?”

“WHO DARES AWAKEN ME FROM MY SLU- Oh its you guys.”

The confused writer looked at the pentagram at her feet. “You know, guys. You could always use like, you know, a phone?!” Dee laughed. “But this!”, she pointed to the diagram, “is a more dramatic entrance.”

The writer sighed. She surveyed the room.

“And what do I owe this pleasure to?” The writer asked.

“Is there a continuation to their story?” Van asked, pointing to the once? couple.

The writer thought back about the burning cathedral, the threats of ‘GET ON WITH THE WEDDING OR SO HELP ME I WILL TIE YOU TWO TOGETHER AND SET THE WHOLE ROOM ON FIRE.’ and the eternally confused audience and not forgetting the matchmaker.

It’s been a year, or has it been two?

“Its been three years! So what’s next?” Van asked. What? It has been three years since the catastrophe?

She looked at the fingers. And..... no ring. So it’s a limbo? Basically, the purgatory. But ok. never mind.

Everyone had grown up, one way or another.

Some had found a job they love. Some had found comfort in cats. Some had found their happiness. The writer? She had found, something else?

“I do.” Sean spoke.

The gasp was audible. And of course, in unison.

“But do I?” Dee replied.

‘Major oof', Van thinks. The faces of the eternally confused couple was for once, the same.

Grinning cheekily, and quite literally a splitting grin from cheek to cheek. An eyebrow perked up and looking at each other, almost playfully.

The writer sighed for the Nth time. She had given up.

“It’s been a pleasure, serving both of my cherished friends.” She pointed to the ‘couple’. “However, I must now take my leave as the confused writer.” Because yes, it’s been three years and still confusing. “Do let me know if a wedding or two is taking place.” She added. “Till then, keep being confused.”

With a bow, as dramatic as she entered, she left.

Van looked at the puff of smoke and extinguished candles. “She could have just used the door?” She said. Colette and Sean shrugged.

To all the whinings and the thought of being protected and pampered. As someone that has been single for god-knows-how long, that the moment I could be a little kid to someone, despite being behind a screen. That they don't have to know how I look.

I don't have to be that Level 109 Assassin. I don't have to be that strong big sister to anybody. I don't have to be that fun bubble or overly-stressed bean. I could just be a kid.

I play many roles. And I am all of them.

To all the boys I've talked to.

Maybe the problem was me. The very beginning. That I'm not the one you're looking for. That all the adventures and chat was just a journey.

That I was one. Just wasn't THE one.

For all the adventures. A day, maybe two. A week, maybe more. Of everything I've learnt and we've shared, it was an experience.

Did I regret it? No.

Maybe the problem was me. It wasn't my time yet and I was pushing it. They said it was better to meet the right person at the wrong time than the wrong person at the right time. Because you knew who it was. You just had to create the time again. It was better than changing someone to fit you.

For all the time we fought dragons.

For all the time I acted like a kid.

For all the time that wasn't mine to start with.

Blankets and worry were two different things.

Blankets were warm and fluffy. Worry were cold and dark.

You looked at the pamphlet in your hand. You didn’t know how it’d gotten under your possession.

House of Blanket and Worry; where we change your woes to woahs.

You didn’t know what to expect of it, and then it also looked like what you had expected. Oh, the irony. It was a two-storey building, grey-bricked with a sign illuminated with neon-lights.

Figuring you’d try this out, you knocked on the big wooden door and then take a step back. If the doors open, you could explore the place. If not, it just wasn’t meant to be.

Your ears perked up as you heard the barely audible shuffling of foot behind the doors. A small crack, then a small stature looking at you through the  small gap. The figure stared at you, eyeing you up and down. Then, the door closed before it opened again.

And it happened all so fast. Seconds ago, you were being scrutinized under the eye of someone behind the door, the next you were pulled into the house. The heavy door closing behind you with a loud bang.

The house was bright. Big chandeliers hung high on the ceiling. Two grand staircases, leading up to the second storey. It was bright and sunny. And a big contrast as compared to the exterior of the building.

You looked at the person that was holding your hand. She was tall, lanky and colourful. Her clothes were patterned like quilts. She was like the female version of Willy Wonka.

“Hi, stranger. Welcome to House of Blanket and Worry, where we change your woes to woahs! My name is Charlie, and I’ll be your guide for today!”

She pulled you to the room at the furthest corner.

“Take a seat, child.” She said, flicking on the lights. You nodded, sitting in one of the big arm-chairs. You surveyed the room. It was big, filled with cupboards and drawers.

She danced from one corner of the room, to the other corner, opening them. She looked at you every once in a while, and then mumbling “no” every time she pulled out a blanket.

It was a while before she exclaimed “YES!!” She pulled out a blanket, woven with thick yarn. It looked like something that would take weeks or maybe months to stitch it together. But it was a beautiful color, light baby blue mixed with teal.

She placed the blanket over your shoulder. And WOAH.

“Now tell me, what’s up?” She asked, taking a seat in the arm chair next to yours.

Maybe it was the ambience in the room, and the blanket that acts as the catalyst. Maybe it was the presence she had, and the look on her face. Or maybe it’s a stranger that made you feel like no one could judge you. But the moment the last word fell from her lips, you poured out every single worry you had.

You let your walls down. You let a stranger in.

She didn’t talk. Not a word. Just taking in your answers, occasionally nodding.

“I guess, that’s it.” You ended, you felt lighter, somehow more at ease. Maybe you had the answer all along. Maybe all you needed was a listening ear.

She smiled, then slowly getting up from her seat. You shrug the blanket off your shoulder, and then she stops you.

“This is yours. Everyone has their blanket. And this,” She pointed to the one draped over you, “is yours.”

“Thank you.”

You waved a goodbye at Charlie as you leave the house. Her smile unwavering as she kept waving until you were out of sight.

She closed the door. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small vial. Inside was a mixture of grey and green mist, swirling around. She stuck a label on it before keeping it away.