Salome Starfire

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Witches brew, pussies stew.

IMG_3286It’s true, sometimes we brew far too much. I drugged myself and ended up in a lavender oil coma. I did this to myself, my partner, and almost to my neighbour. Yes lavender flowers good, but lavender leaves….well let’s just say that after consuming this potent mixture I was knocked out for around ten hours or so and could barely stumble out of bed the next morning. I was completely drugged and had slept as the dead. By the fourth night of this wonderful new herbal tea experiment I looked forward to the quick sleep of the dead that would take over me, sometimes infused with strange dreams involving zombie brides haunting houses I was visiting, but for the most part these potions ensured a very very deep sleep. But by the fifth day the waking was getting harder to enact. My limbs dragged like water-logged jellyfish and my  head swam with the whispering ghosts of drugged sleep. The nausea also began to creep to the forefront of my morning wake-ups and it proved to be the clue to my poisoning. So good had this new lavender leaf tea infusion been that I had recommended it to my neighbour and thankfully she decided with her better judgement not to have it. One look at me, across the fence at six in the evening as she had just come home from work was enough to convince her perhaps her witchy poo neighbour might not be onto something, for what she saw I can only imagine in retrospect, my five-day old mascara built upon my lashes like shabby velvet-tapestries, my tangled black hair wherein lay the feathers from the doona, or the dress I had been wearing for the last three days. My hands reached across, brown and keen to give her the ‘good stuff’ and she took it warily. Of course I have told her since discovering my poisoning ( it was not me but he who quickly researched the mistake of the lavender leaves) not to infuse them.  I have told my beloved I would never mention it to anyone, that I must not speak of our mutual poisoning, because no-one will want to eat my curries, my soups for fear of some new experiment.  The strangest thing is, I have a book of herbal remedies but failed to remember the leaves were toxic. At the time the potion was so wonderfully strong, it felt so good and certain in its effects. So I ground up some charcoal and made us both swallow sufficient quantities to absorb the poisoning. I swear my cats had been nesting in my hair whilst I slept this narcotic sleep, they potentially could have stewed me up in their own mad cat sabbath, in their strange mewings at the moon and I would have woken, naked in a forest in a pile of goose feathers, with bird bones clutched in my hands.  It may have happened.


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