Tag: Fiction

So I’ve somehow been transported to the Soul of New York City.  How was your morning?

I get off the train at 59^th and Lexington and head up the stairs, stopping just long enough to give a young homeless girl a dollar bill infused with luck.

By noon, she’ll have enough money for a room with a hot shower, some new clothes, a real meal, and a bus ticket back to Georgia.  And yes, that’s what she’ll use it for.  I scribbled a little suggestion on the bill to make sure.  Her eyes will never notice it, but her unconscious mind will.  I usually don’t like to do stuff like that, but if I didn’t, she’d still be in the City next Wednesday, at which point she’ll be hit by the M60 bus.  How do I know? 

Because that’s what I do.  Economancy.  Money magic.     

Hey all. I know I haven’t had a lot of material for you over the past few months. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing at all. One thing I’ve been writing is a piece of serial fiction for a private newsletter that I call The Economancer. Now, thanks to the generous permission of that newsletter, I’ll be able to share The Economancer with all of you in weekly serial format – my own little penny dreadful. Hope you enjoy.

You probably don’t think of New York City as a place for magic.

Or maybe you do.  You’ve been primed by tv and movies where if anything weird happens, it happens in the Big Apple – Dr. Strange, Men In Black, The Avengers, Ghostbusters – everything from aliens to ghosts to giant lizards.

(Though I have to ask: who starts a whole business just to “bust” ghosts?  Sure, some ghosts are trouble, but most are just minding their own business.  I mean, you’ve been here all this time, and I bet you never even noticed Phil in elevator shaft A1!  Are you gonna bust ghosts just for being ghosts?  That’s vitalist!)

But I’m not talking about magic in movies or TV.  I’m talking about the real stuff.