Rita J. Webb Quotes

• “As a writer, I am just an actor in a play, telling a story that needs to be told.”

  Rita J. Webb

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• “I like the dark; it is safer here, where no one can see me. The shadows caress me; friends hugging me.”

  Rita J. Webb

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• “Would I lie to you?”
  
  “There was that time you told me the mud pies would give me flying powers if I ate them.”
  
  “Not my fault. I really thought they would.”

  Rita J. Webb

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• “Emma smacks the back of my head. “It’s just boobs. Even I have a pair. No reason to stare so hard. Put your eyes back in your head.” She grabs my hand, leading me toward the bar . . . and positions me with my back to the stage.
  
  “But you’ve never shown me yours. Take your shirt off, and I’ll stare at yours instead.”
  
  “You did not just say that.”
  
  “Yeah, I think I did.”
  
  “Men.” She rolls her eyes.”

  Rita J. Webb

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• “A rustle of wings and a hawk feather drifts down to me. Snatching it from the air, I look up into the trees, but nothing’s there. So I tuck the feather into my hair.
  
  “What are you doing?”
  
  My stomach leaps into my throat, and I jump up, stumbling backward, and fall on my butt in the middle of the path. In the tree above me, a teenage boy perches on a branch. He’s dressed in traditional deerskin breeches, a talon necklace around his neck, but rather than moccasins, his feet are bare. He is shirtless, and lean muscles cord his body.
  
  His intense eyes capture my attention. They’re like golden fathomless pools. I could get lost in them.
  
  “Don’t your feet get hurt, walking barefoot on the forest floor?” I ask.
  
  “I rarely walk.” He drops down in front of me. His face is so close that I take a step back and thump into a tree. He leans toward me and sniffs. “You smell different. What are you?”
  
  “I’m a girl.” I can’t take my gaze from his.
  
  “No, humans stink. You smell…” He sniffs my hair and grins. “You smell good.”
  
  “Is there a reason that you’re invading my space? I have somewhere to be.” My voice cracks.
  
  He tugs one of my braids and winks at me. My pulse quickens, and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes study me with intensity, and he leans closer. Is he going to kiss me?”

  Rita J. Webb

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• “She unscrews the cap, sniffs it, and then shrugs, dumping the entire contents into the bubbling brew. “It could be marjoram, but it might be mushrooms. I had a bottle of poisonous, green ones I dried out last winter on the solstice. Oh well.”
  
  Leaning out over the cauldron, she stirs thrice counterclockwise, using the wooden spoon with a handle about as tall as she is. Then she scoops a bit and brings it to her mouth for a taste.
  
  “No!” Jason and I scream at the same time.
  
  She blinks at us. “What?”
  
  “You just put something that may be poisonous in there,” I say.”

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• “Jason. My best friend from childhood. The boy—er, man—who should be ten hours away in Kodiak, Alaska, rather than here in Anchorage.
  
  The man staring at my naked legs.
  And I’m standing here in my panties and baby-doll T, which clearly shows I’m not wearing a bra, especially as Alaska is cold in February and the door gapes wide open.”

  Rita J. Webb

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• “Jason grins. “I’d never miss your birthday. Remember last year?”
  
  “Ugh! I thought I’d never thaw out after we went skiing in a blizzard. We were stranded for three days in that cabin we found in the woods.”
  
  “Aw, come on, you didn’t even get frostbite. I took care of you.”
  
  “At least I didn’t end up with any broken limbs. That time.”
  
  “I still can’t believe we went snow-boarding on East Pillar Mountain Loop. That’s a tough trail, and then you broke your arm slipping in the parking lot on the way to the truck.”
  
  My muscles were exhausted, and carrying my board on my shoulder, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I didn’t see the patch of ice. “Remember when you took me spelunking?”
  
  “I had no idea that bear was in there.”
  
  “I can’t remember ever being that scared.”
  
  “But it was fun! Come on. We can’t break tradition.”

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• “A human!” He grasps my hand with both of his and dances me in a circle. Then he stops and pulls out his notebook and a pen, flips it open to a blank page, and poises his pen over the page. “Do you have dreams when you sleep at night? What do you dream about? What did you eat for breakfast? How often do you eat in a day? Omnivore, herbivore, or carnivore? Let me look at your teeth.”
  
  He steps close as if he would open my mouth for me and inspect it as if I were a horse for sale. I take a step back and bump into the stall door behind me.”

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• “Green goo bubbles in a cauldron in the center of all this chaos. On a pedestal in front of it, a book is open. The old lady leans over the book so it almost touches her nose and peers at the page. “Marshmallows. No, that can’t be right. Jason,” she shrills. “Read this for me.”
  
  “Marjoram,” Jason reads.”

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• “She waves her big spoon. “You can get me that orb-weaver spider from the corner over there.”
  
  “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  “Don’t you kill it! I need it alive.”
  
  “Can I have a jar to catch it with?”
  
  “No. Use your hands.”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “The recipe says so.”
  
  Jason arches an eyebrow. “Can I see that?”
  
  “Who is the witch here? Me.” She swats him on the arm with her wooden spoon.
  
  “Okay, okay.” With a sigh, he heads toward a dark corner.
  
  She turns on me and raises her spoon.”

  Rita J. Webb

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• “I never read comic books.”
  “Angel, you don’t know what you’re missing.” He grins at me. “They’re like soap operas for men.”

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• “You have no power to control me. Not even the little you’ve stolen from this child.”

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• “Mix the blood with the catnip and the frosting and put it on the cake. Then you will eat it.”

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• “Maybe the insanity of life had stolen his reason.”

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• “Maybe it was a blessing he never loved her.”

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• “Art is magic — a simple enchantment that all humans have, the ability to create something beautiful using our own two hands and the power of our imaginations.”

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