Michael Carpenter

…s'mores on it?” @polkaknight @ thelessercarpenter

I work in a decent sized, local, indie bookstore. It’s a great job 99% of the time and a lot of our customers are pretty neat people. Any who, middle of the day this little old lady comes up. She’s lovably kooky. She effuses how much she loves the store and how she wishes she could spend more time in it but her husband is waiting in the car (OH! I BETTER BUY HIM SOME CHOCOLATE!), she piles a bunch of art supplies on the counter and then stops and tells me how my bangs are beautiful and remind her of the ocean (“Wooooosh” she says, making a wave gesture with her hand)

Ok. I think to myself. Awesomely happy, weird little old ladies are my favorite kind of customer. They’re thrilled about everything and they’re comfortably bananas. I can have a good time with this one. So we chat and it’s nice.

Then this kid, who’s been up my counter a few times to gather his school textbooks, comes up in line behind her (we’re connected to a major university in the city so we have a lot of harried students pass through). She turns around to him and, out of nowhere, demands that he put his textbooks on the counter. He’s confused but she explains that she’s going to buy his textbooks.

He goes sheetrock white. He refuses and adamantly insists that she can’t do that. It’s like, $400 worth of textbooks. She, this tiny old woman, bodily takes them out of her hands, throws them on the counter and turns to me with a intense stare and tells me to put them on her bill. The kid at this point is practically in tears. He’s confused and shocked and grateful. Then she turns to him and says “you need chocolate.” She starts grabbing handfuls of chocolates and putting them in her pile.

He keeps asking her “why are you doing this?” She responds “Do you like Harry Potter?“ and throws a copy of the new Cursed Child on the pile too.

Finally she’s done and I ring her up for a crazy amount of money. She pays and asks me to please give the kid a few bags for his stuff. While I’m bagging up her merchandise the kid hugs her. We’re both telling her how amazing she is and what an awesome thing she’s done. She turns to both of us and says probably one of the most profound, unscripted things I’ve ever had someone say:

“It’s important to be kind. You can’t know all the times that you’ve hurt people in tiny, significant ways. It’s easy to be cruel without meaning to be. There’s nothing you can do about that. But you can choose to be kind. Be kind.”

The kid thanks her again and leaves. I tell her again how awesome she is. She’s staring out the door after him and says to me: “My son is a homeless meth addict. I don’t know what I did. I see that boy and I see the man my son could have been if someone had chosen to be kind to him at just the right time.”

I’ve bagged up all her stuff and at this point am super awkward and feel like I should say something but I don’t know what. Then she turns to me and says: I wish I could have bangs like that but my darn hair is just too curly.“ And leaves.

@thelessercarpenter

Lash didn’t like churches. As a matter of principle, she had always tried to stay away from them. She didn’t like Knights any better. Sanctimonious, self-righteous bastards. But she didn’t know where else to go.

Harry. Go to Harry.

No, not yet. She couldn’t face him yet, couldn’t face the emotions she would have to sort out. Couldn’t risk the possibility that he would reject her, even if logic told her that that fear was ridiculous.

She wasn’t used to fear.

Lash watched the family from across the parking lot, debating her move. They were finished with church, getting ready to head home. Should she approach all of them, or see if she could catch the Knight alone later?

The Knight put his hand on his wife’s shoulder as they ushered the kids into the van and murmured into her ear. “I’ll be right behind you. I love you”. Charity stiffened, then looked back at him, relaxed again, and nodded. Michael walked across the parking lot to the young woman watching. 

Lash watched Michael as he approached, trying to keep her posture and expression relaxed, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She wasn’t here to fight, after all.

@thelessercarpenter

Lash didn’t like churches. As a matter of principle, she had always tried to stay away from them. She didn’t like Knights any better. Sanctimonious, self-righteous bastards. But she didn’t know where else to go.

Harry. Go to Harry.

No, not yet. She couldn’t face him yet, couldn’t face the emotions she would have to sort out. Couldn’t risk the possibility that he would reject her, even if logic told her that that fear was ridiculous.

She wasn’t used to fear.

Lash watched the family from across the parking lot, debating her move. They were finished with church, getting ready to head home. Should she approach all of them, or see if she could catch the Knight alone later?

The Knight put his hand on his wife’s shoulder as they ushered the kids into the van and murmured into her ear. “I’ll be right behind you. I love you”. Charity stiffened, then looked back at him, relaxed again, and nodded. Michael walked across the parking lot to the young woman watching. 

Hi, followers! We are excited to announce that we will be giving away one copy of the Core Sourcebook here on Tumblr! If you also enter our Twitter giveaway, you have a chance to win two copies!

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@thelessercarpenter and I finally got to meet him! We thanked him for writing the book series that brought us together, and invited him to our wedding. He laughed (an obvious thank you, but no), and signed our books. It was fantastic!! 

Michael sat at the kitchen table with Daniel, one hand on his son’s arm. “It’s okay. Just tell me what happened”, he told his oldest son, voice calm and steady.

“I don’t know, Dad!”, he replied, voice elevated slightly out of anxiety. “I just tried to reach out and grab her and then she landed in sand”. He shook his head, and Michael realized that he really was as confused as his father. There hadn’t been a loose sand pit where Alicia had fallen from the tree. Thinking of Molly, and something Harry had told him about magic in bloodlines, he frowned. 

“We’ll figure this out together, Daniel. I’ll find someone to help you with it”, he assured his son, and gave him a hug, making sure not to show how worried he was. 

He wasn’t sure when the last time that he’d been up in the tree, but he very carefully pulled himself up into the treehouse, anyway. Come to think of it, when was the last time Matthew had been up here. Nevertheless, Matthew sat in the corner. “I’m sorry, Dad”, he told Michael, muffled by his hands on his face. Michael reached over and tousled Matthew’s dark hair.

“It’s okay. We’ll melt the slag down and recast it. I’m just curious if you know how you did that”, he told his son. 

“I-I’m like Molly and Daniel, right?” Michael smiled, even though anxiety and fear for his child was tearing him up inside. He took a breath. God was there. He would watch out for them. They would be okay. 

“You and Mom both look like angels on the inside”, Alicia told him one day. “I hope I’m like that”. Kids say the sweetest things sometimes. Michael squeezed her shoulder.

“We do our best, honey, but everyone has the potential for great good or evil”, he told her. “That’s why you should only judge people by their actions. You can’t tell good or evil from appearance”. She nodded, but seemed unsure.

“Dad, sometimes…I can see what people look like. I can see the angels here. They watch over us. There’s one right there”. She pointed at a very specific corner of the room. Michael stopped, and a small Voice he’d heard many a time before whispered, listen. A chill went down his spine. 

“Alicia, you know how Uncle Harry is…unusual??” When she nodded, he continued. “He told me once about something called the Sight”.

“Mom, I’m worried about Samantha” Amanda told her mother one day on their way to school.She was a precocious ten years old. Samantha was one of her best friends at school. She often visited for sleepovers. 

“Why, sweetie? Is she having trouble in school?”. Charity hadn’t noticed anything, but Samantha always seemed quiet. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s because she’s worried about her parents”, Amanda told her. Charity stiffened. 

“Did she tell you that?”, she asked. She knew Samantha’s mother, who had come to Charity for advice about her marriage numerous times recently.  

“No. I can just tell. Just like I can tell you’re worried about something right now”. She should not be that perceptive. She would need to call-

“And now you’re thinking about Bill! You’re frustrated and irritated but grateful”. Amanda smiled.