#cryptic mutterings

The stars are out again tonight, smug and silent as always.

I brewed tea in a cup that was, until recently, enchanted to hold fire. I am now immune to the concept of taste. This is a lesson in hubris, as well as in the importance of labeling teacups.

The chair I’ve sat on for decades creaked today. Just once, but it was enough. It is a warning. The chair plans to betray me, and I must prepare my counterattack.

The town priest begged me to stop enchanting the graveyard. “It’s upsetting the mourners,” he said. If anything, I’m improving their experience. Some people can’t recognize a gift even when it crawls out of the dirt to greet them.

A breeze passed through my tower this morning. It knocked over my inkpot, scattered my notes, and then promptly disappeared. This was not an accident. The wind has chosen violence today, and I will respond in kind.

I walked through a meadow today. It was serene, idyllic, perfect. Too perfect. The flowers swayed in time, the birds sang in harmony, and I can only conclude this was some elaborate plot concocted by that nettlesome warlock to lull me into complacency. I am not fooled.