“Leave a glass of red wine for the Fire Elementals,” my Mother would say.
I’d always ask, “Where?” just so she would tell me one of her stories.
Mom was an accomplished leader of a local coven of Witches. They mostly got together in the back yard on Saturday Nights. I always liked it because they would let me roast marshmallows on the fire pit while they danced around.
“Over by the fireplace,” she then went on to explain. “Chimneys, in any form mind you, are the gateways through which we can interact with the Elementals. When I was a girl we just called them, Fe’ Tunnels,” she stared at her own reflection painted on the black glass window of the night. Remaining quiet.
“Funny thing that,” she said looking at herself.
“What?” I went and stood next to her. I discovered she was not transfixed on her reflection at all. There was a full vision of her past life playing out right before us on the black glass.
“Mom,” I whispered.
“Ignis cuniculum,” she whispered.
We watched on as a young Roman girl placed a small clay cup of wine near the open fire pit of a small stone home.
Danny Machal September 2nd, 2015