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The Cozy Spot

1 post categorized "Necromancer"

November 24, 2007

Necromancer - I

I knew we’d fuck. It fell on the dining table round about ten-ish, just after my third coffee. I needed to unwind, and meditate; “do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law,” and this sentiment summed my religious beliefs quite well, or so I thought, until the cards dropped and my eye fell on the colorful images of the past, present and infinitesimal.

It’s not so much about the bookish definitions or translations, but how one resonates with the arcane meaning, or in my case: the two of cups, the Lovers and the erudite Knight of Swords. One small step forward, I thought; the card setup illuminated the dreary, overcast morning. The resident pigeon, up above, pecked at the skylight, and Kerrie-Anne announced the latest product on the Morning Show. The Knight proved far more interesting.

Oh I knew him; he of the way, the mind and the downcast gaze; head buried in some book or another, he'd sip vats of macchiato, impregnating the air with his dastardly allure. Churlish, and aloof, he felt invaded - or so he said - when he caught me glancing at his pages. I’d made a joke, something that no one would get - except for him. His fancy laptop seemed at odds with his arcane interests.

“Technology versus Abramelin.”

“Excuse me?”

His lips slackened, and he arched his full black brow in that are you addressing me (and who are you?)? manner. Why, I am the intrigued femme, or cobweb central; I’ll need an industrial job to clear these cobwebs between my legs, darl. Do you give quotes?

“Your book,” I glanced down, and nodded.

“So? Your point?” Far from being a shrinking violet, he simply folded his arms over his barrel chest and pursed those fine lips, lips that would be better suited to channeling my libido than some guardian angel (according to Abramelin).

“It’s hard work. You’ll have to fast for days on end, and then there’s…”

“Did I ask for you opinion?”


“I’m aware of finer details, thank you very much,” and he could have muttered ‘amateur’. The word swayed behind his eyes; his stony gaze enchanted me, for I couldn’t determine the precise color of his eyes. Gray or slate? Quicksilver, perhaps.

“You need to be careful,” I said, unleashing the inner Good Samaritan, if there is such a thing in all things uncertain and occult - ish?

“I’m interested to know…what makes you certain?”

“True, you may be a supreme Kabbalist,” not of the Hollywood kind, but the kind one never reads about in News of the World, New Weekly or Cosmopolitan.

“Impressing me with terminology?”


His eyes flashed; fuck how they dazzled. They upped the wattage within my pussy.

“Impress? You?”

I flipped my hair.

It took a short while. He requested my company, to kill time - charmingly aloof. Hard to get…or so he thought.

“I see myself as a shaman.”

“Oh…a necromancer.”

“I believe the correct term is Shaman,” he softly said, sipping his macchiato.

“The intermediary between the living and dead…the Shaman; what necromancer, what Shaman?” I persisted.

“We don’t see eye to eye, that’s a certainty.”

Perhaps, we can see cock to pussy?

Cock to mouth.

Mouth to mouth.

Mouth to cunt.

My fingers caressed the small leather purse within my handbag.

“A hundred dollars says I can tell you what will unfold within a month…” I slammed the purse on the table.

“Please,” he began, a smile breaking through his stoicism, “kiddie games.”

“Care to explain, Necro?

“I played with those as a child. Games.”


His eyes could launch missiles.

“A game? This is no game,” I said. I was quite serious, although not as critical as a coronary; perhaps, as serious as Aleister was when he invoked the Beast, that almost strangled him...

(to be continued)

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© Anastasia Mavromatis 2005 - 2008