My first ritual blade was a butterfly knife I purchased at the Douglas County Gun & Knife Show, back in my junior year of high school. Being the particular brand of young fool that I was, I carried it everywhere, despite its tendency to slip out of my pocket at inopportune moments. Inevitably, I lost it: it slipped out of my pocket one day on the bus ride home. Some weeks later, it reappeared: tumbling out of a stack of papers that I hadn’t touched in months, falling open and sticking into the ground at at my feet.
A few years later, I lost another knife in similar circumstances: it fell out of my pocket as I was walking home from the coffee shop. Somehow, while cutting through a wide park I on the way home from work the next day, I managed to trip over the lost knife. Yes, I walked that route a lot … but the odds of that are still pretty slim.
Monday, I lost my wallet in my night class. I pulled it out of my skirt pocket when I went through the drive-through for dinner and I stuffed it in the inside breast pocket of my coat. When I got home from class, the zipper was undone and the wallet was gone. I searched the apartment, called the school, emailed the professor, and ultimately cancelled my debit cards. This morning I found my wallet back … in the belt pouch I hadn’t worn since the weekend.
“Did you conjure it back?” Aradia asked me.
Not on purpose. I’m embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to me.