https://Voice.club - My current home, an oak in Richmond Park, is my refuge, laboratory, business location, and much more. I’m eternally grateful to my great-aunt Elizabeth for leaving me this place; it’s a plum location. Magics don’t pay property tax, and not because we aren’t law-abiding citizens, but how could we if all our residences are not on the local authorities’ radar? Our homes don’t officially exist!
I don’t like to share, and I wouldn’t get a lodger of any kind. I’ve always gone for the cosy, unassuming look when I choose a new abode. A cottage on the moors did well for me for two centuries. Parva sed apta me, small but suitable to my needs, as the old Romans said, and I concur.
However, things changed in 1649. What possessed me to befriend the Vice Witch Finder General? I really shouldn’t have bothered, as he was a pompous idiot. He went around declaring he could smell witches for miles. When he came to see me at the cottage I was sharing with two of my kind, he didn’t smell anything, apart from my blackberry jam, bubbling away in the cauldron.
He accepted my tea, and I shouldn’t have talked about his work, as we had to agree to disagree. Kicking his bum out afterwards was sheer satisfaction, especially when he refused to leave my house, so I turned his tea into piss, just to show him what an idiot he was at not spotting me for what I am. The presumptuous twit was even too ashamed to report me. Therefore, the boys and I had so much fun at his expense, he didn’t know if he was coming or going for all the tricks we played on him, especially when his breeches dropped in front of the whole village during a church service. At the end, he left the county and joined the wrong side during the Civil War. I guess he felt safer that way…
I’m a city boy at heart. I guess what happened put me off the muddy countryside for ever!
