Sophie, game 1, Spring, day 1
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villagewitchThis got rather longer than I anticipated. Apparently, I had a lot of words bottled up. 1,654, to be precise.
Well, here I am at last. On the Equinox, no less, a good omen. I've made it to Marathon Key, Fla, via the Overseas Railroad (it would have been so uncomfortable to fly from Chattanooga). The train tracks are elevated for most of the journey, to keep them from being washed out in a hurricane, I suppose, but at least they dip down to land on the islands.
I don't so much have a village as an archipelago, or at least part of one. I am the witch for the middle length of the Florida Keys, from Pigeon Key (where exactly one person lives, I'm told) through Lignum Vitae Key. Such names these islands have! I love it so much! I've got the smallest patch of the Keys, both in number of islands and number of people, but that just means they need me all the more, doesn't it?
I stepped off the train and my two trunks were deposited behind me (one for clothes and personal items, the other for professional equipment). I was surrounded by pines and live oaks, but also there were small trees with oranges on them, looking ready to eat!
In front of the platform was an open horse-drawn cart, with a farmer-type lying across the bench seat at the front, very tan and wearing overall and an undershirt, and a broad straw hat pulled down across their face. At first, I assumed the person was a man, but soon I had cause to doubt, and now I'm not at all sure. When the train started to pull out -- no one got on, and neither did any freight -- the person sat up, pulled back their hat, and gave me a slow up-and-down as I stood there in my blacks, my broom over my shoulder and my carpet bag in hand.
"Well, then. You must be the new witch. Hello, Miss Witch." Their voice was higher than I expected, and while the drawl was not the same as at home, still it was gentler than the accent of some of the northern towns I'd been offered would have been.
I set down my bag, shifted my besm to the other shoulder, and stepped forward, hand out. "Sophie Augustus, from Stone Coven, south of Chattanooga."
They hopped down with more energy than I'd have guessed at, and shook gently but firmly. "Nice to meet you, Sophie Augustus. You can call me Old Sam. Everyone does. I heard you'd be arriving today, so I thought I'd come down and help you with your things, show you your new place."
"Much obliged, I'm sure," I said. Together, we loaded up my trunks. Old Sam seemed to approve of the fact that I grabbed one end of each without hesitation, and I felt proud of myself.
"You'll have a time getting these inside the house, I'm afraid. It's on stilts," Old Same told me.
"Not to worry," I said, squashing my alarm and amazement at the idea of a house on stilts. "I'll manage with the broom."
"Good, good." Old Sam seemed to approve again. I imagine they appreciate self-reliance down here. Not that most people don't, in a witch, but I'm told that Keys folk are nearly as independent as they are out West, if not so prone to violence. Well, good. They'll find a mountain girl up to snuff, I think, even if I've much to learn.
We headed through the town, with Old Sam pointing out the important things, like the boarding house (which might require quotation marks, we'll see what I'm called out for there), the small church, and a few others. There was only one street through town, and half of it was shotgun shacks.
The boarding house had the most lovely gingerbread trim, but the design was very unusual. I'll have to ask someone about that. People are often very proud of such things, it's probably a local specialty or something.
We took a turn off down what was honestly just a white sand track through the trees. "You're down by the beach," Old Sam told me. Oh! I hadn't known! I'd spent so long staring out the windows at that huge expanse of water on the train trip down, and now I'd get to have it out my back door? Amazing! (If only I'd known...)
Old Sam began to tense up a bit, and I sensed some important question coming. "Miss Sophie," they started, "do you... distill at all?"
Ah. Yes, I've heard the Keys are full of rumrunners and bootleggers. Well, it was easy enough to tell the truth.
"Only enough for my potions and medicines," I said. "Daddy never would let his baby girl see the big still."
"Ah," was all Old Sam said, but that tension left them.
"I'd love to sample some of the local product, though, if anyone would care to share or sell."
"I'll see some's brought round to you, as a welcome gift, then," Old Sam said comfortably. Then either Old Sam had their own still, or was close to someone who did. Good to know. "If you'll let us know when you're ready for company, some of us will come out and we'll have a housewarming."
"That's very kind, I'd enjoy that very much," I said, feeling pleased and welcomed. "Give me, say, three days?"
"Sure thing."
Now the track was lined with smaller trees. Some held oranges, and some other fruits, either large and yellow or small and yellow or small and green. Old Sam pointed some of them out and told me the names of the fruits. Pomelo, which was enormous, grapefruit, also quite large, lemons and limes, which I could have guessed, and, smallest of all, something called key limes, not much bigger than my brother's rubber bouncing ball. I wonder what those are like. I'll find out soon, I suppose.
They added, "All these are yours, from that curve back there."
"Mine?" I said, probably blankly.
"Oh, yes. Miss Abigail, our last witch, she planted them thirty years ago. I helped. We'll go past the garden next, and then we'll be at the house."
And indeed, we took another bend, and there were fenced-off herb beds and berry bushes. My, I'd have a wealth of fruit! I'd have to put up preserves. And dry herbs, of course. If they'll dry in this damp weather.
"Did Miss Abigail leave recently?" I asked.
"She died about two months back. A boy ran for her one day, and there she was, stone cold in her bed. I guess she knew it was coming, I checked the house for you and it looks in good order."
"Ah. Of course. Must have had the Sight. Not one of my best gifts, I must say, but I have other talents." Old Sam only nodded.
And then we were there. The house, up on stilts a story high, just as he'd said, appeared through the trees, unpainted silvery-grey wood, square, with a gently sloping roof. No stairs in sight, nor door either. I wondered if I'd have trouble with the trunks after all. But Old Sam pulled up under the house and showed me a sturdy rope to pull on, and a ladder unfolded. Aha! Perhaps, if I stay, I can get someone to build me a porch with a staircase.
The house, which I'd been distracted by, was just at the edge of the treeline, and beyond it was a white sand beach, and past that, the Gulf of Mexico! The sun was starting to get low. At home, it would be starting to dip bhind the mountains by now, but here it was a handspan above the horizon yet. I'd get to see the sun set over the sea!
Old Sam helped me lash each trunk in turn onto the broom, which I sent up through the hold in the floor, climbing up after and shifting it off. Then Old Sam followed me inside to help me put them in useful spots. The equipment trunk stayed in the main room, which had a cast iron stove (and it had surely taken magic to get that up here), an ice box, counter space, a huge work table, a space with comfortable chairs, and a bookshelf still half-full of books. I was delighted with that last, and resolved to go through them as soon as I could. The personal trunk went back into the narrow room at the back with the bed, dresser and washstand.
Once all that was settled, I asked Old Sam to show me the well and outhouse. I knew the town had indoor plumbing, but obviously it hadn't made it out here just yet. That was all right, I'd grow up with an outhouse. Old Same nodded approval again, presumably that I was so matter-of-fact about it. No soft city girl, me.
So they showed me, and the rest of the land, and my goodness, there's so much of it! The cottages on the Mountain never had so much land. And all of it is beautiful!
After the tour, Old Sam left, and I fetch well water and a bundle of pine needles, then took out my besom and began to sweep out the house. It was fairly clean, aside from the sand we'd tracked in, but some things must be done. Then I added salt to the well water and sprinkled it everywhere with the pine needles. Finally, I got out my supplies and made four spell bottles, which, after some thought, I buried at the four corner stilts of the house. I took my iron railroad spikes, gifts from my covenmates, around the bounds of my land, and drove them into the ground with a large mallet I found among Abigail's things.
And then, quite exhausted from my day, I sat down to write this. Now I shall go to bed.
Well, here I am at last. On the Equinox, no less, a good omen. I've made it to Marathon Key, Fla, via the Overseas Railroad (it would have been so uncomfortable to fly from Chattanooga). The train tracks are elevated for most of the journey, to keep them from being washed out in a hurricane, I suppose, but at least they dip down to land on the islands.
I don't so much have a village as an archipelago, or at least part of one. I am the witch for the middle length of the Florida Keys, from Pigeon Key (where exactly one person lives, I'm told) through Lignum Vitae Key. Such names these islands have! I love it so much! I've got the smallest patch of the Keys, both in number of islands and number of people, but that just means they need me all the more, doesn't it?
I stepped off the train and my two trunks were deposited behind me (one for clothes and personal items, the other for professional equipment). I was surrounded by pines and live oaks, but also there were small trees with oranges on them, looking ready to eat!
In front of the platform was an open horse-drawn cart, with a farmer-type lying across the bench seat at the front, very tan and wearing overall and an undershirt, and a broad straw hat pulled down across their face. At first, I assumed the person was a man, but soon I had cause to doubt, and now I'm not at all sure. When the train started to pull out -- no one got on, and neither did any freight -- the person sat up, pulled back their hat, and gave me a slow up-and-down as I stood there in my blacks, my broom over my shoulder and my carpet bag in hand.
"Well, then. You must be the new witch. Hello, Miss Witch." Their voice was higher than I expected, and while the drawl was not the same as at home, still it was gentler than the accent of some of the northern towns I'd been offered would have been.
I set down my bag, shifted my besm to the other shoulder, and stepped forward, hand out. "Sophie Augustus, from Stone Coven, south of Chattanooga."
They hopped down with more energy than I'd have guessed at, and shook gently but firmly. "Nice to meet you, Sophie Augustus. You can call me Old Sam. Everyone does. I heard you'd be arriving today, so I thought I'd come down and help you with your things, show you your new place."
"Much obliged, I'm sure," I said. Together, we loaded up my trunks. Old Sam seemed to approve of the fact that I grabbed one end of each without hesitation, and I felt proud of myself.
"You'll have a time getting these inside the house, I'm afraid. It's on stilts," Old Same told me.
"Not to worry," I said, squashing my alarm and amazement at the idea of a house on stilts. "I'll manage with the broom."
"Good, good." Old Sam seemed to approve again. I imagine they appreciate self-reliance down here. Not that most people don't, in a witch, but I'm told that Keys folk are nearly as independent as they are out West, if not so prone to violence. Well, good. They'll find a mountain girl up to snuff, I think, even if I've much to learn.
We headed through the town, with Old Sam pointing out the important things, like the boarding house (which might require quotation marks, we'll see what I'm called out for there), the small church, and a few others. There was only one street through town, and half of it was shotgun shacks.
The boarding house had the most lovely gingerbread trim, but the design was very unusual. I'll have to ask someone about that. People are often very proud of such things, it's probably a local specialty or something.
We took a turn off down what was honestly just a white sand track through the trees. "You're down by the beach," Old Sam told me. Oh! I hadn't known! I'd spent so long staring out the windows at that huge expanse of water on the train trip down, and now I'd get to have it out my back door? Amazing! (If only I'd known...)
Old Sam began to tense up a bit, and I sensed some important question coming. "Miss Sophie," they started, "do you... distill at all?"
Ah. Yes, I've heard the Keys are full of rumrunners and bootleggers. Well, it was easy enough to tell the truth.
"Only enough for my potions and medicines," I said. "Daddy never would let his baby girl see the big still."
"Ah," was all Old Sam said, but that tension left them.
"I'd love to sample some of the local product, though, if anyone would care to share or sell."
"I'll see some's brought round to you, as a welcome gift, then," Old Sam said comfortably. Then either Old Sam had their own still, or was close to someone who did. Good to know. "If you'll let us know when you're ready for company, some of us will come out and we'll have a housewarming."
"That's very kind, I'd enjoy that very much," I said, feeling pleased and welcomed. "Give me, say, three days?"
"Sure thing."
Now the track was lined with smaller trees. Some held oranges, and some other fruits, either large and yellow or small and yellow or small and green. Old Sam pointed some of them out and told me the names of the fruits. Pomelo, which was enormous, grapefruit, also quite large, lemons and limes, which I could have guessed, and, smallest of all, something called key limes, not much bigger than my brother's rubber bouncing ball. I wonder what those are like. I'll find out soon, I suppose.
They added, "All these are yours, from that curve back there."
"Mine?" I said, probably blankly.
"Oh, yes. Miss Abigail, our last witch, she planted them thirty years ago. I helped. We'll go past the garden next, and then we'll be at the house."
And indeed, we took another bend, and there were fenced-off herb beds and berry bushes. My, I'd have a wealth of fruit! I'd have to put up preserves. And dry herbs, of course. If they'll dry in this damp weather.
"Did Miss Abigail leave recently?" I asked.
"She died about two months back. A boy ran for her one day, and there she was, stone cold in her bed. I guess she knew it was coming, I checked the house for you and it looks in good order."
"Ah. Of course. Must have had the Sight. Not one of my best gifts, I must say, but I have other talents." Old Sam only nodded.
And then we were there. The house, up on stilts a story high, just as he'd said, appeared through the trees, unpainted silvery-grey wood, square, with a gently sloping roof. No stairs in sight, nor door either. I wondered if I'd have trouble with the trunks after all. But Old Sam pulled up under the house and showed me a sturdy rope to pull on, and a ladder unfolded. Aha! Perhaps, if I stay, I can get someone to build me a porch with a staircase.
The house, which I'd been distracted by, was just at the edge of the treeline, and beyond it was a white sand beach, and past that, the Gulf of Mexico! The sun was starting to get low. At home, it would be starting to dip bhind the mountains by now, but here it was a handspan above the horizon yet. I'd get to see the sun set over the sea!
Old Sam helped me lash each trunk in turn onto the broom, which I sent up through the hold in the floor, climbing up after and shifting it off. Then Old Sam followed me inside to help me put them in useful spots. The equipment trunk stayed in the main room, which had a cast iron stove (and it had surely taken magic to get that up here), an ice box, counter space, a huge work table, a space with comfortable chairs, and a bookshelf still half-full of books. I was delighted with that last, and resolved to go through them as soon as I could. The personal trunk went back into the narrow room at the back with the bed, dresser and washstand.
Once all that was settled, I asked Old Sam to show me the well and outhouse. I knew the town had indoor plumbing, but obviously it hadn't made it out here just yet. That was all right, I'd grow up with an outhouse. Old Same nodded approval again, presumably that I was so matter-of-fact about it. No soft city girl, me.
So they showed me, and the rest of the land, and my goodness, there's so much of it! The cottages on the Mountain never had so much land. And all of it is beautiful!
After the tour, Old Sam left, and I fetch well water and a bundle of pine needles, then took out my besom and began to sweep out the house. It was fairly clean, aside from the sand we'd tracked in, but some things must be done. Then I added salt to the well water and sprinkled it everywhere with the pine needles. Finally, I got out my supplies and made four spell bottles, which, after some thought, I buried at the four corner stilts of the house. I took my iron railroad spikes, gifts from my covenmates, around the bounds of my land, and drove them into the ground with a large mallet I found among Abigail's things.
And then, quite exhausted from my day, I sat down to write this. Now I shall go to bed.
