Relatives from Out of Town - A Hall

I think the wee folk are playing with me, but this is the story the Pixies gave me for this year's Halloween specials. It rolls some Celtic traditions in with some other traditions from the old times to present a tale of a witch who isn't really a witch... except that she is.

I'm putting it in the Humor category because it doesn't really fit anywhere, and that is the closest.

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WARNING! This warning is not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story.

All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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It all started when cousin Bridget made her prophecy. Bridget has always been a very weird little girl. Perhaps I should say she has always been a very weird... and very little... girl. Aunt Nora used to say that Bridget must have been kissed by the Fey as she drew her first breath.

Shortly after Bridget started talking, she began telling everyone that she would remain a child forever. Then, at about age seven, she just stopped growing. She didn't seem to get any older mentally and she didn't get any bigger physically. Everything just stopped. They took her to all sorts of doctors and did all sorts of tests, but no one could explain what had happened. They tried growth hormone shots and several experimental procedures, but Bridget continued to remain a small child... just as she had said she would.

But that wasn't all. Shortly after she stopped growing, Bridget started having these "fits." She would freeze up-- sometimes in the middle of a sentence-- and then say something really weird in a really strange, high-pitched voice that was almost a squeak. Once, when we were at Grandma O'Rourke's for a family reunion, right in the middle of dinner, she froze up and said, "Mhamó you have such a beautiful house with such beautiful things. It's too bad that it will all burn tonight."

We all laughed it off-- sort of-- but then right after midnight a severe thunderstorm suddenly brewed up. The lightening and thunder was almost continuous. Everyone was awake and looking out the windows when suddenly Bridget began screaming in that high-pitched voice, "Everyone downstairs, NOW!"

That we couldn't laugh off. We took off running. Grandma was the last one to come down the stairs. She had barely made it into the living room with the rest of us when two huge bolts of lightening struck the house almost simultaneously. It was like an explosion as windows broke and pictures fell from the walls. The air inside the house turned blue for what seemed like at least a minute or two and an acrid taste filled our mouths. Then everything was orange with fire.

"The barn!" Grandma yelled. "Everyone run for the barn."

We were all standing in the big doorway to the barn watching the house burn when the fire trucks arrived. The fire captain ran up to us and yelled, "Is everyone out of the house?"

Grandma O'Rourke smiled at him and said, "Yes, our sweet little sprite warned us it would happen and we were all downstairs when the lightening hit."

Bridget looked up at her and asked in her innocent, tiny little girl voice, "What did I do, Mhamó?"

Little Bridget, as most of the world calls her, is always totally unaware of what she says while she is "away." That is frustrating for her. When people are staring at her in shock, she will often ask in a troubled voice, "Was I away again?"

It's doubly frustrating, however, for the person to whom she gives the prophecy. Her words are often ambiguous and the true meaning is hard to comprehend. And it doesn't do any good to ask her what she meant, because she doesn't know what she just said.

It is triply frustrating for me because last week she walked up to me in the grocery store and said, "This Night of All Hallows, before the sun comes up, a true witch from the old country will cast a spell over you and take you as her eternal lover. Every Night of Darkness on the Mountain, she will summon you to her bed so that she may produce children." She then smiled at me and skipped off as if nothing had happened.

Some people would just laugh that off. Even some Irish named O'Rourke might shake their heads and not believe. But I know this child. I know that she is little Bridget of the Fey. And as far as anyone can remember, she has never been wrong in any of her predictions or prophecies. What she said meant only one thing, a witch was after me.

Like I said, it doesn't do any good to ask Bridget for more details because she doesn't remember what she said. All I knew was that a witch from the old country was coming for me on Halloween and would force me to make love to her every Halloween FOREVER.

I knew that having to take an ugly old hag to bed would really take the joy out of Halloween for me for years to come, so I immediately started planning my defense. Bridget may have never been wrong, but that didn't mean I couldn't change things.

After a lot of thought, I came up with a really simple plan. All I had to do was make sure that there were no real witches, goblins, wee persons, members of the Fey, or any other truly magical creatures anywhere near me this Halloween.

I know, that is easier said than done because any of those magical beings could disguise themselves as something else and I would never know, but there is a witch up on the crag overlooking town who owes me a favor. I don't trust her, and I'm not going to get into what I did for her, but she owes me. So, if I made my request totally and absolutely clear so she couldn't make it do something I didn't want, she would have to grant me what I needed.

I spent almost a whole day figuring out exactly what to ask and exactly how to say it. Then I headed up to see Granny. I don't know her real name, no one does, but everyone in the town calls her Granny. I went walking up the path to the crag just as the sun was setting. A lot of folks avoid the mountain when the sun is low, but I knew Granny would be around then, probably out back of her shack gathering herbs or maybe brewing something up in her small cauldron.

I also knew it would have been a lot less scary to go see her in the daylight, but I don't know that anyone has ever seen her in the daylight. For that matter, I don't of anyone who has ever found her shack with the sun shining on it.

She was out back leaning on the fence watching me walk up the path. "Hi, Granny," I said as I approached. "I need a small favor."

"Ye've earned more than a small favor, Bobby, me boy," she replied in her raspy voice. Just as everyone calls her Granny, she calls everyone-- boy or girl-- Bobby.

I started to explain what I wanted, but she held up her hand to cut me off. "I canna' give ye exactly what ye want," she said slowly. "You want to be able to see someone for what they truly be this Halloween night. No matter what disguise or concealment a person-- even a magical person-- might have, ye want to see through it an' see the real being."

I gave a deep sigh of defeat. She had stated it exactly as I had planned but said that she couldn't do it.

"I had hoped you had that kind of magic," I said slowly. "I guess even you aren't that powerful."

She began laughing and soon the laugh dissolved into a cackle. "I dinna say I wasn't powerful enough," she finally said. Then looking at me with her lopsided smile, she said firmly, "I be too powerful."

I looked back at her in shock and confusion.

"I can gi' ye that power," she said in her aged voice, "but it would take powerful magic that cannot be limited to a single night. If I give it to you, it is yours forever."

"Then I would always be able to see someone for what they truly were?" I asked.

"Be careful what ye wish for," she said quietly. Then she held up a small bottle and said. "But if that is what ye truly want, drink this and thine eyes shall be opened."

I pulled the stopper out of the bottle and wiggled it toward my nose. It smelled awful... more than awful. It was the kind of smell that your nose refuses to recognize. Instead all smell and taste shuts down and your entire body screams at you, "Don't drink that!!!!"

My mind overruled my body. I tipped the bottle to my lips and emptied it in one gulp. That was followed by several more gulps and gasps and coughs as I tried to keep my stomach from hurling the foul mixture back up onto the ground.

When I had finally regained control, I was on my knees facing back down toward the town. I stood up and turned around. Granny was gone. In her place was a young, beautiful, naked woman. She smiled at me in an embarrassed way and said, "People expect witches to be old hags who talk like pirates from the movies." She shrugged and said, "They find that more acceptable than..." she reached around to hold up her pointed tail.

It wasn't until then that I realized that her skin was a deep shade of red and there were small red horns peeking out of her coal black hair. Her eyes were a brown so deep that they almost also looked black. Between her legs was a neatly trimmed patch of extremely curly, extremely black hair covering her sex.

"You wanted to see," she said once my eyes finally returned to her face.

"Are you a demon?" I asked. I could hear more than a little fear in my voice.

She again laughed. This time it was a normal, almost musical, woman's laugh. "No," she said, "I am not a demon. I am a spirit of the woods and the hills who can take on physical form once the sun has set."

She gestured down at her body and said, "Unfortunately, your ancestors chose this form as the image of their evil one."

She paused and then said, "I think it is time for you to return to your home." As I turned to leave she said, "You have the sight. But remember this..." I turned to face her once again and she continued slowly, "... even when you can see the real being, you may not be seeing what they truly are."

I nodded my head and turned once again toward the trail down the hill. After I was far enough away so she couldn't hear me-- I hoped-- I muttered loudly, "I hate magical beings. They never tell you the whole story and what they tell you is always hidden in rhymes and riddles."

"I heard that," a voice called from above me. She laughed again and said, "And it is all true."

By the time I had walked home, I had discovered that a witch, two fairies, and a ghoul all live near me. The ghoul works in the local flower shop. Everyone in town thinks he's gay. Maybe he is, but, if so, he is a gay ghoul.

The plan, at least so far, was working. I could tell if a disguised witch or any other magical creature was sneaking up on me. Now all I had to do was to be somewhere with no witches, goblins, wee persons, members of the Fey, or other magical beings anywhere near me. After what I had seen walking home, that might be a bit harder to arrange than I first thought.

Then I remembered Kevin. Kevin also owed me a big favor, and more importantly, Kevin was rich... extremely rich. I knew that Kevin loved Halloween and that every year he would have this fabulous party at his lake house. If you were one of the lucky ones, you might get invited out onto his "party barge" for a moonlight cruise on the lake.

The barge-- named "Victory"-- was actually a large yacht with an expansive flat deck and several cabins below where Kevin and his friends would stay when they were out on the lake for extended periods. In some ways, Victory looked like a miniature aircraft carrier. I think Kevin had even landed his helicopter on the upper deck when he needed to arrive late or leave early from their summer cruises, but there was no way a plane had enough room to land.

Rumors were that the moonlight cruise was a floating orgy, but I have never even attended the main party at the house, so I couldn't say for sure. What I did know is that "Victory" was moored at the end of a long dock. Getting on the barge wasn't really an invitation. It was more of a selection process like at the doors of a really posh club. First you got invited to the party itself. Then, as it got close to dark, you walked up to the shore gate for the dock. If the guards opened the gate for you, you were in. If not, you walked back up to the main house and rejoined the party there. The guards, obviously, didn't make the decisions on their own. Kevin was watching through the security cameras and signaled yes or no to the guards.

It was a perfect plan. If I could get Kevin to allow me to veto any of his selections, then I could be sure that no magical creatures got on board... maybe. Granny's words about seeing someone but not knowing what they truly were worried me. But Bridget had specifically said that it was a true witch from the old country. If I said no to anyone who looked Irish, I should be safe.

I was hoping for a very chilly Halloween that might keep the interest in a moonlight cruise down a little, but it was a warm evening when I arrived at Kevin's mansion. I was early, but I wanted to be aboard the "Victory" before sunset-- and before anyone else so I could be sure that only those I felt safe with were allowed on board.

I have no idea what was going on up at the main house, but I assume it was a fine party. Several times, guests came wandering out into the back yard to talk, or to seek some privacy among the trees. I kept a careful eye on everyone. I could tell immediately if a person were a magical creature. If I concentrated, I could see what they looked like beneath their masks and makeup. If I concentrated a little harder, I could even see what they looked like beneath their clothing.

As the evening wore on, I discovered several things. One was that there are more magical creatures around us than I ever imaged. Another is that some cross-dressers look really nice even in very skimpy clothing. The man who hustled the naughty nurse in the almost nothing costume into the shadows came back with a smug smile on his face, probably after a blowjob. I wondered what he would be looking like if he had seen what I could see.

Close to midnight, Kevin and his entourage came walking down from the house. I used a pair of binoculars to carefully scan him and everyone who was with him. None were magical creatures, but the slightly older woman dressed in a full, Halloween-style, witch's costume with black skirt, pointy hat, and everything was packing. She had two pistols strapped to her waist, a small one at her ankle and another up between her shoulder blades. There were also at least a half-dozen knives strapped here and there on her arms, legs, and body.

"Do you know that the old witch is packing serious heat?" I asked Kevin through his earpiece.

He laughed slightly and turned to look over at the witch. "She'd better be," he said. "She's my head of security."

I went back to checking out the mob of people following Kevin to the boat. "I don't know how you can see it," his voice said over the speaker, "but please say 'No' to anyone other than Dame Alice... and my guards... who is carrying."

I smiled. Maybe I would come out of this on the plus side of favors owed after all.

I said 'No' to anyone with red hair, anyone who looked like anyone in my entire extended family, any magical creatures... and, of course, anyone carrying weapons. One succubus looked directly at me and hissed. I know she saw me watching because when she hissed, smoke came out of the tips of my binoculars.

I was really tempted to let the Fey come aboard. She was wearing a Tinkerbell costume, but everything, including her rapidly-beating transparent wings, was real. She had evidently used an enlarging spell on herself. She also knew what I was doing, but just stuck her tongue out at me and then laughed as she dragged her partner toward the darkness of the trees.

At exactly midnight, the Victory's horn gave three loud blasts and we cast off. We were not scheduled to return to the dock until morning, so, if my plan was working, I was safe.

I couldn't hide on the bridge forever, though. Besides, the captain had been pretty emphatic that once we were underway he didn't want anyone other than crew on the bridge. I had no real choice but to go to the party.

I had given a lot of thought to my costume. I originally thought of going as a Leprechaun, but since I stand a little over six feet tall, I didn't want to put up with "Aren't you a little tall to be a Leprechaun?" all night. I thought of doing something from Star Wars, but Chewbacca suits are horribly hot and if you go as a storm trooper, no matter what size you are, you have to put up with "Aren't you a little small to be a storm trooper?" I finally decided to stick with an Irish persona and went as Merlin the Magician.

I know that Merlin is Welsh, but Welsh and Irish are both Celtic, so it's all in the same family. Besides, the Merlin robe allowed me to wear just a swimsuit under it so if things started to go south, I could dive overboard to escape whoever was after me.

Sometimes rumors are based on facts. When I stepped out of the captain's bridge and onto the deck, it looked like someone was expecting us to have to abandon ship. At least it looked like there were several dozen life rafts inflated and ready for use scattered around the deck. When I looked a little closer, however, I realized that these weren't rafts at all, but instead inflatable mattresses which were scattered around, ready for a somewhat different use.

I'm not an exhibitionist. In fact, I'm a little shy, especially when it comes to public sex. I was trying to figure out what to do when a soft voice next to me asked, "Would you please help me get down to the lower foredeck?"

I turned and Glenda, the Good Witch of the North, was standing next to me. The costume was perfect and she even had the high-pitched voice and giggle exact.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I can't make it down the ladder," she said sweetly. On a ship all stairs are called ladders, but the one from the upper deck to the open lower foredeck was truly almost a ladder. Unless you were really agile or limber, you had to turn and go down it backwards.

"If I try to go down backwards, like you are supposed to," she said, "my skirt catches on my heels in the back." Pointing at the ladder, she continued. "And if I pull my skirt around from the back, it twists everything up in the front so it will tangle my feet or cause me to step on my dress and the ladder at the same time."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, trying to be as helpful as I could to this blond, blue-eyed beauty.

"If you could go down before me," she said, "and lift the back of my skirt so my heels don't catch, I can get down the ladder." She smiled and added in her silvery voice, "Then you can join me for a drink while we watch the waves sparkle in the moonlight."