A Witch's Curse (5 page)

She reached into one of the nearby cabinets and pulled out a large glass bowl and began to put some of the excess batter they had made into it to be extra cautionary. She reached into her backpack and retrieved a salt shaker of herbs, spreading them into the mix and stirring it around with a wooden spatula.

“
Double double, toil and trouble.”

“
What was that?” Melinda asked.

“
Nothing,” Rose said, dipping the batter on another cookie sheet and putting it into the already heated oven.

“
I had a dream that was kind of messed up,” James said, gazing at Rose while she moved the remaining batter around, its doughy, mellifluous texture becoming thicker with each second. The scent of it filled their area, a sort of lavender mixed with a strange form of lemon fragrance, a bouquet of different aromatic whiffs, similar to what she used to be able to ascertain with her nose‘s abilities when walking through a carnival or a renaissance fair.

“
What happened in the dream?” Melinda asked. “I bet I was in it and you were doing disgusting things to me. Pervert.”

“
Maybe in your dreams. But no, this one was way different.”

“
I had a dream that I was in a hotel which was burning down,” Melinda said, not caring what her other friend’s reverie may have been. “I’m still a little frightened by it. It was vivid.”

“
Weird,” James said. “That was the dream I had. Ttrapped in a burning hotel.”

Rose tried to concentrate on her devious cooking, at first beginning to understand what was happening. It all seemed like white noise at first, mere static from a radio. Then it became clear what she was listening to. No, it can’t be. My ears need to be checked.

“
What did the hotel look like?” Rose asked, turning around and facing the two.

“
Which one of us are you asking?” James inquired.

“
Both.”

“
Mine was an extravagant one,” Melinda said. “Expensive wood and glass, tall beams holding up the bastions above, sort of like a set Hollywood used on a Jane Austen movie. No one was inside of it except me - it was awful. Not that I was going to die, but I was going to die alone. I‘m sounding like an emo girl, right?”

“
I would have to agree with that,” James said with a laugh. “That was pretty much the way mine looked. If it weren’t on fire I would have given my left hand to live there, or even just visit for a week. It was a four star place for sure.”

The timer went off, signaling how the treats were done. Rose grabbed a hot pad and opened the oven door, reaching inside for the first pan.

“
No offense,” James said, “but I want the cookies you didn’t mix weird herbs into.”

“
Yeah,” Melinda agreed.

“
I didn’t make them for us,” Rose reassured them, placing the decent, unsoiled sweets on the table. “Don’t worry, these are the right ones. Dig in.”

The two sat down and began eating, while Rose grabbed the enchanted ones and laid them on the counter. Now that they were cooked, each one had the tang of dried perfume mixed in with the syrupiness of thick honey. She feigned to keep busy by washing her hands and drying them off with the nearest towel, but all the while she was in deep thought about their simultaneous dream, though she would not admit to having had the same one as them. She wondered if the two had sleep walked as well, but were not confessing this to each other.

A memory came back where Alexis Harvey, her teacher and personal mentor, had educated her on the fact that a simultaneous dream was a sign of oncoming trouble.

The lesson had been a while ago, and Harvey‘s vast love of knowledge concerning everything magical was so extensive that Rose sometimes had problems keeping everything straight. Rose promised her that she would ask her about that as soon as possible. She hoped that her thinking a group of people possessing a duplicate incident while sleeping was an omen of bad luck had not been true, but something in her gut told her this was in fact a truthful remembrance of a lesson. It was a hard pill to swallow.

She looked over and found out that James had already finished off everything on his plate.

Rose gave James the uneaten cookies, the ones that she had prepared herself.

“
I’m not trying to be hurtful,” he said. “But I thought I made it clear that I would sooner eat dirt than this.”

“
I want you to give those three little love birds of yours over there these cookies,” Rose said, pointing to the cheerleaders.

He gazed over at them and then back at her. “Why? I thought you hated them.”

“
I do,” she said with a nod. “But, you know what they say. Forgive thy enemies. Besides, it gives you an excuse to approach them.”

“
Good point,” he said, grabbing the pan and making his way over to the trio with a devilish grin.

Melinda leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Did you give them food poisoning or something?”

“
No,” she said.

“
Excessive laxatives? Suppositories? Bird poop? Worst of all, asparagus?”

“
None of the above. Something better. Trust me.”

She smiled when seeing Gina, Jessica, and Emma biting into the round baked goods, each of them staring upwards at James and appearing jovial, if not very grateful, to have been handed something from him, probably taking cruel pleasure in gaining something that they thought Rose and Melinda wanted but could not have.

The treats would give her enemies sneezing fits for the entire weekend. Rose was warned this was bad karma, but the girls had it coming.

5

Her instructor in witchcraft owned a bookstore downtown called The Realm of The Out of Print. Alexis was an avid reader of works that had been forgotten by the public, hence the title of the literary marketplace itself. The rent for the actual studio was cheap (a smart move, when taking into account how the idea of selling novels that had been forgotten was not on the economical side), but when one stepped foot inside the domain, it became obvious that Alexis had spent a lot of money in order to set up a certain atmosphere. It was a disguised retreat in a way, since many customers walked in wanting nothing more than a good evening read, but it was also known to be a place for practicing warlocks and apprentices of the magical arts from all over the world. It was a sanctuary for Rose. Harvey was one of the few individuals who understood her. She had once given her a few words which helped her survive more than one bad year as a teen:

“
Always remember this, Rose. The qualities you have which makes you an outcast are the purest and strongest traits you can have.”

The store was located four blocks away from the school, so the trip was not a long one. Rose walked into the emporium and saw it was empty. Ms. Harvey was sitting behind her desk and cash register, flipping through a trilogy by John Dos Passos.

Alexis dressed in an eccentric manner, which caught the majority of Pine Lake’s civilians off guard when they saw her. Many chose to stay away due to her strange pick of apparel, even though all of her students adored her for the very same reason some may have rebuked her for. Amulets, crystals, medieval silver chains adorned to the fabric of her brown dress, a few rubies in her hair, and enough jewels, charms, ornaments, other necklaces, and rings of all hues and types were part of her daily garb.

There were a few bright gauntlets beneath her bracelets, and when Rose asked her about the androgynous nature of the wear, Alexis said it represented the gods and goddesses. Harvey had grown used to the obvious insults concerning which clothes she was the owner of, with people referring to her as homeless, a panhandling palm reading psychic, an insane asylum escapee, a schizophrenic on the verges of civilization who commiserates with the pariahs, and of course a hippie, the only term besides witch that, assuming the connotations were correct, she did not mind.

She could handle any accusation and spring back with an equal response, and while she would tolerate none of them without at least getting in one reaction, there was one criticism she would not endure without screaming. The term New Age witch was a label she would have very little of.

“
How are you doing today, Rose?”

“
Good. How are you?”

“
Fine. Business is slow.”

“
Do you think this generation is one plagued with illiteracy?”

“
I don’t think so, I know it.” She said these words with a chuckle, before setting her dusty hardback down and standing up. “All right, here’s a pop quiz.”

“
Oh no,” Rose said with a groan, laying her backpack down on a collection of old Encyclopedia’s, taking in a deep breath and sitting down on a stool which was within reach.

“
Yes, it is on, my young lady. How many full moons are in a year?”

“
Thirteen,” Rose said.

“
And what does each one signify?”

“
For modern day witches, which we aren’t, it marks the times they will hold an esbat. This practice is for Wiccans. We’re old school in the pre-Gardnerian sense.”

“
Very good!” Alexis said with a beam. “You make me proud, because you remind me of myself when I was your age!”

The two moved closer to the front. There was a small ivory coffee table in which sat a hardback book on monsters in horror cinema dating back to the nineteen twenty’s. Rose sat down and began curiously leafing through its grimy pages, its cover having the feel of discarded sandpaper.

“
I bought a mocha machine if you’re interested in having a cup,” Alexis said, making her way to the reverse room. Rose agreed while gaping at pictures.

When the coffee was served, she took a sip and reveled in the hot, rich and velvety textured flavor. Alexis sat down across from Rose.

“
What’s wrong?” Alexis asked, putting her hand over Rose’s.

“
A few weird things have been happening.”

“
I never said life for a practitioner would be normal.”

“
Right,” she said. “And I respect that. Yet this is a thousand times stranger. I don’t even know where to start.”

“
You know you can tell me anything, Rose.”

“
Me and two of my friends at the High School have had the same dream on the same night.”

A look of sadness overcame Alexis, and for a second she turned her head away, uncomfortable at what had just been revealed, as if it were somehow a shameful secret one should keep to themselves. Then she gazed back in her direction again.

“
What does it mean?” Rose asked, waiting for some sort of negative news to be shared, trying to prepare herself for the worst.

“
It’s a fluke,” Alexis said.

“
What do you mean?”

“
Listen, I think a simultaneous dream amongst friends can be a good sign, even if most everything I’ve read about them says it a bad one.”

“
What?”

“
Oh dear, I shouldn’t have revealed that. Just take my word that I think it is going to be all right. There’s also a chance it could be a sign that the pals you have in class are actual soul mates. Is one of them a boy?”

“
Yes,” Rose said. “James.”

“
Is he cute?” Alexis asked this with an evil eye.

“
Ew. Not going to happen. Getting back to the topic, you once said what happened to me could be a bad omen, but what of?”

“
There have been reports of experiences such as yours being a premonition marking the forthcoming return of an unwelcome presence, whatever that may be. Ninety nine percent of the time, the details of the dream are irrelevant; a nightmare that seven people have of a flying pitcher of iced tea does not prophesize packs of Red Rose enslaving people, though it could translate into a warning that someone or something undesirable is going to arrive.”

Rose looked incredulous when hearing her description of the dream.

Alexis shrugged. “That’s what happened to me, dear. It could be nothing.”

“
Good to know,” Rose said, starting to feel relieved, but nowhere near close to being entirely better.

“
Just be extra cautious in whatever you choose to do or wherever you go,” Alexis warned. “Keep your eyes opened at all times.”

“
There’s something else that happened.”

A pause lingered in the air between them for a few long seconds, and Rose felt hesitant. She had spent most of her life concealing her identity from everyone - her father, friends, teachers, even her journal entries from time to time - and when the time came that she could spill her guts about the craft to the one person who would understand, her muscle memory still froze up, since repressing her own words was what she practiced the most.

“
I sleep walked last night,” Rose said.

“
Have I got the potion for you,” Alexis said with zeal, standing up and making her way around the counter, reaching under the wooden surface and pulling out a bottle with an ebon periwinkle liquid inside. She made the stroll back and gently put it down on top of the Hollywood ghouls book.

“
What’s in it?” Rose asked, bringing the small object closer to her space of eyesight.

“
A little bit of everything. Chamomile, hops, passion flower, valerian, poppy, kava, Catnip, and a dash of melatonin, which I stole from a surfer. If that does not stop you from sleep walking, I don’t know what will.”