The Lantern That Refused to Die

 

Good evening my lovelies, come in, let me take your coat, how about a nice glass of sherry or a cup of something inspirational? I hope your day was warm, charming and full of cheer.

I have been in the scriptorium since early morning; pens scattered across notebooks and Jo Stafford singing all about the haunted heart.

Have you ever taken time out of your busy schedule, just look around at your surroundings and wonder about some of the things that you see, maybe your office has a pencil sharpener that is masquerading as a lighthouse? A coffee cup that suddenly houses pens, pencils, or a ruler.

Come closer, let me tell you about the light that glows in the window of the scriptorium….

 

A Glow in the Scriptorium
This time last year the scriptorium had its walls scrubbed down, wallpaper removed and new paint carefully painted onto the wall. Then the bookshelves, my pride and joy, to house the many, many tomes that make up the library of the Militiverse, yes, the place where Isaac and Remy stroll into when they need to research a case that they are investigating. But I digress.

My interior design prowess is rather bland, I like the white walls, crisp clean lines for the rest of the house, but in the scriptorium, the room where I write, create, and spend up to eighteen hours a day just working. I had a vision of an old gothic house, with soft warm lights from hurricane lanterns and flickering candles. I think I achieved it; I love the soft flames and the soft glow that the various candle lights give to the scriptorium. They aren’t real flames, I must confess. Keep that between us, though; the vampires get very particular about their décor.

The Tin in the Window and the Season That Never Ends
One piece of décor that graces the scriptorium that brings a smile to my face, particularly because it shouldn’t be. Just before the big shut down, over five years ago, I went shopping in Marks & Sparks, mid-October 2019, well, as most people are seduced by the seasons, I saw this whimsical tin house, a three-story house with bats flying on it, die cut windows and a little bulb at the bottom. On the tin it warned that the battery life was around three months clearly because it was in constant use. Oh, I neglected to say, the tin contained about eight of the most delicious melt in your mouth butter cookies, with white chocolate chips, Mmm yes please.

When it came to dressing the scriptorium naturally the little tin house found its home on the window, near the desk, and yes the glow when the light is turned on, gives that eerie glow, as it casts shadows over the desk, the pens are elongated on the desk, my planner becomes a misshapen shadow.

That light, remains on, from when the evening sneaks up on us and remains glowing until, winter makes a pact with Spring to not show off until the following October. Yes, after five years of lighting up, the battery that should have retired because its shelf life was up, it’s still glowing, and it still charms.

I think, maybe the Militibus vampires have secretly brought the house to the Scriptorium all the way from the Sixth, what do you think?

 

When the Militiverse Slips into December
Time works differently in the Militiverse, it has a beauty all its own during the different months and seasons, but December is always magical. The frost as it slowly climbs the glass, casting pathways of intricate design, constantly reminding how as you look closely, you see a different design every time. Nothing there is as it seems, but don’t take my word for it, let’s ask someone who knows it very well, Capitaine Karl Oberbach.

‘Capitaine, you’ve been in the Militiverse throughout the different seasons, what’s your favourite thing about December?’

‘I love the snow, where we challenge each other with a snowball battle’

‘Capitaine, who usually wins?’

‘Now, Anna, do you really need to ask that? It is a foregone conclusion that the best swordsman is also the best…’

‘So, it’s Remy?’

He rolls his eyes at this; I may have just cheesed him off.

‘Me of course….’

That smirk of his.

Thank you Capitaine Oberbach, I swear the Militibus, are just like the rest of us when it snows. Winter settles differently in every world, ours and theirs. But a glow in a window always means the same thing: welcome

Until next time,

Anna xoxo