Written for Bradley Ramsey’s “Halls Of Pandemonium”, Day 6.
Patrick paused in the bedroom doorway, taking in the battered leather suitcase on the bed and the haphazardly ransacked wardrobe. “You’re going, then?”
A conflicted sigh emerged, followed by Susan. “If it was anyone else from the coven, I’d tell them to go whistle. And maybe I still should. But Daphne is so proud, I can’t imagine her stooping to asking a man-loving defector for help unless the situation was dire.”
“Fair enough.” Patrick squeezed her arm with a bracing smile. “Need any help? I can at least put a cuppa on…”
“A cuppa would be lovely, thanks pet.” Susan smooched his cheek. “Ugh. Maybe I shouldn’t be worrying about looking out of place. I mean, they kicked me out, I’m not under their rules anymore, so…”
“Mm.” Patrick looked uncertainly at the very small amount of her clothes which were plain black. She’d embraced colour with the thirst of a desiccated plant. “Well, I can understand wanting to remind them of that. But I could also understand not wanting to stick out too much. Really, it’s about what you’re going to be most comfortable in.”
“I’m not sure. That’s the problem.” Susan frowned at the clothes, absently refreshing her ponytail. That was another difference - she’d cut her hair after leaving the coven. So much easier to take care of now it only reached her shoulders. But it was going to be very noticeable.
Why did she care? And why wasn’t being annoyed at still caring what they thought about her enough to resolve the pesky concerns?
Patrick had quietly started folding the scattered clothes and laying them out in an ordered fashion. Bless him. Hard to believe that she’d despised him when they met. Well, she hadn’t really despised him, she’d been taught to hate all men as a monolith. Convinced they were inherently dangerous and evil.
And then, after terrorising the poor man and transmogrifying him into a squirrel, she went rifling through his bag, and amongst the snacks and such found a book. “Deprogramming Patriarchy”.
He later explained that the reason he was hiking so deep in the woods was to aid reflection. Work on some of the exercises surrounded by the peace and quiet of nature. He thought that would help with the heavy emotional lifting involved.
She devoured a third of the book in one sitting, while he hid under a bush and watched in confusion. The contents blew her mind. That men might not be inherently violent and volatile and unable to control their passions, but were taught to behave such, to keep women oppressed… and that some men wanted to change this, including one of the two authors being a man!
When she realised it was getting dark, she turned Patrick back to normal to grill him on the book. Was this a trick? A trap?? He was of course baffled. The idea of a woman who’d never had a conversation with a man was impossible for him to fathom.
But he did say she could keep the book, and recommended several others, and even scribbled titles inside the back cover for her to look into. Not that she’d ever been to a bookshop, either, and in fact didn’t even know to tell him that. She just rushed back to the coven, clutching this marvellous treasure, and excitedly told everyone that all their teachings were wrong.
How dreadfully naive, expecting they’d be as willing to believe that as she had been.
She could still vividly remember the book curling into ashes. Her newfound hopes crumbling with it.
Two years. It took another two years before she’d gotten up the courage to leave the coven. And once she got out, the first thing she wanted to do was find Patrick, mostly to apologise about turning him into a squirrel, and what happened to his book… and also because she was fairly sure he wasn’t evil, and was still very worried about how many other men might be.
Not an unreasonable fear, she’d learned since. But with everything else she’d learned, she wished she’d set fire to the Codex on her way out! Granted, she doubted they’d ever actually manage to craft a curse which could target half the world’s population, but it now disgusted her that they were even trying.
All that time and effort and anger wasted on not solving the actual problem! Ugh.
A cup of tea was slowly wafted in front of her face, making her start, then laugh. “Thanks.”
Looking at him standing there, offering a loving smile and a fresh cuppa, made her decision come into focus. View this trip as a chance to try and convince some of the coven away from their aimless misandry. Get them to put their talents to use dismantling the systems which were crushing everybody, not just… whatever the current curse they were trying would do.
She cradled the warm mug between her palms, and slowly said “I think I’m going to dress appropriately. By their standards, I mean. But I’m also going to make it clear that whatever the problem is, I’m not going to help with their ‘great work’. In fact, I’ll take all my literature on the subject - and if they try and burn it again, they’ll find out just how much magic I’ve learned!”
“Sounds grand.” Patrick grinned at her, proud and approving, and picked up the piles of black he’d separated out. “Um, not sure you’ll have quite enough for a week, unless… do you think they’d be offended if you borrowed some of my stuff? It’ll be a little baggy on you, but I’ve got enough blacks to…”
“I think it would. They’ll be able to smell you.”
“Ah. Well, we could hit up charity-”
“How many sets can you spare?”
Patrick paused, his eyebrows rising, then shrugged and opened his side of the wardrobe.
Make that, she was going to dress mostly appropriately by the coven’s standards. She thought it’d be good for them.
Prompt was “Write about preparing for a journey. The story must end before the journey begins, but you may hint at what’s to come.”
Read other stories written for the prompt here.
From last year… another romantic moment about supporting someone and helping them work through something.
Ah, I really dig this, Leeron. You are writing in my wheehouse here! What I really appreciated about this was that it never pretended the coven’s anger came from nowhere. The story recognises that systems can genuinely wound people, while still questioning what happens when fear hardens into ideology and people become symbols instead of individuals. There’s a lot of nuance in that, wrapped inside a story about accidentally turning a man into a squirrel 😄would read the sh*t out of this as a serial.