"I am out with lanterns looking for myself." ― Emily Dickinson

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January 20, 2017

January 20: STORY 3: Zurich, Switzerland

More about the 20 Days of Chill over here

Note: This will be a four part series. Read Part 1, Part 2.

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Fiction: Mae and Dash - part 3

Dash is in the last place he ever wanted to be - Zurich. When he looks down at the cobblestones sidewalks, at the already lit street lamps surrounding him and as he lifts his head toward the night sky, he finds, he didn't feel as bad as he thought he would.

As he walks down the cobblestones, he see something familiar ahead - a chocolate shop lighted by a single lamp shaped like a tear above the door. When Dash was six, Dash's father had brought him a vanilla milk shake and a slice of chocolate cake along with a small box of chocolate goods for his mother, all in this shop. Afterward, as they were walking home, his father casually mentioned he was leaving and that Dash shouldn't worry, his mother will take care of him.

Dash pushes the chocolate shop's glass door and enters the shop. He remembers the bright hue of the yellow walls and the old woman behind the glass counter. The old woman is there now and she appears to be the same age as when Dash last visited eight years ago. She looks up and says, "Guten Tag," and smiles.

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Mae stares in silence at the empty space where her best friend have been a moment ago. The spell worked! Mae turns the page to the reverse spell and surprisingly, the spell was written in reverse - the first words became the last and the last words became the first. Mae laughs. Her mother certainly has a sense of humor. She chants the spells three times but nothing happens. She tries again.

The phone rings. She heads downstairs and toward the kitchen and picks up the white telephone on the wall beside the fridge. "Hello?" she says.

"Hi Mae, this is Dash's mother. Is he there with you? He was supposed to be home by 4. It's after 5 and he's not answering the phone." She sounds causal as usual.

Mae wraps the phone cord around her forefinger. "Yes, Mrs. Herbert. Dash is with me," Mae looks around her kitchen. She wonders if lying to Dash's mother will come back to haunt her.

"Call me Hannah. Okay. Just tell Dash I won't be home tonight and that he should get himself dinner or something. And if he wants to stay over at your house, then it's fine."

"Okay, Mrs- Hannah. I'll tell Dash." Mae begins to untangle her finger from the phone cord.

"Thank you, Mae." The sound of the dial tone is heard next.

Mae hangs up the phone and walks back up the stairs and into her parents' bedroom. She closes her eyes to rest a bit.
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A little more than an hour later, Mae bolts up in bed. She has forgotten something. Her arm itches. She fights the urge to scratch. Dash's eyeglasses is in her hand.

Dash! She has to bring him back wherever he is.

She studies the reverse teleportation spell again. Her hand involuntarily scratches her arm. Then she slaps at her arm and curses herself. A bright red has already appeared. She wonders whys she always breaks out in hives. She chants the spell very carefully three times, holding tightly onto Dash's eyeglasses.

A blue cloud of smokes appears in front of her and as Mae waves at the smoke and as it clears, Dash appears. He holds a opened box of chocolate in one hand and a piece of half-bitten chocolate in the other. "Hi," he says in between a mouthful. "Have some." He puts the other half of chocolate into his mouth, wipes his hand on his pants and holds out the half empty box. He smiles at her, cheeks bulging as he continues to chew.

Mae widens her eyes at him and punches him on the shoulder. He swings slightly backward but uprights himself. "What was that for?"

"I was worried sick and you're out there eating chocolate?" She have almost broke out in hives but Dash is perfectly alright.

Mae throws his eyeglasses at him. He catches it with one hand. Dash swallows the mouthful of chocolate and licks his lips. "What? The old woman gave it me. I couldn't just refuse."

Mae walks down the stairs to the livingroom where she sits down on the couch.

"You did it. So what is the problem?" Dash says as he comes downstairs and walks over to sit beside Mae.

"The problem is I have no control over it. One moment it works, the next it doesn't." She crosses her arms over her chest.

"But you made it work. You just need more practice." Mae loves how assuring Dash can be. Mae can't help but smiles at him.

"Chocolate?" Dash holds out the box.

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Mae sends Dash home. She needs space to herself.

"Mae." It is her father Henry. He appears on the couch besides her.

"Dad? How did you..." Mae looks at her father. She could see through him.

"Mae, there is a lot I haven't told you but there is no time right now. I must tell you a spell that you will need to free us from the witch."

"But Dad, where are you? Are you and Mom alright?" Mae reaches out a him toward him but then drops her hand. She can't touch him, not like this.

"We are fine, Mae. Remember this spell and listen carefully: 'Blood to blood, we call to thee, blood to blood, we obey thee, Blood to blood, we release thee.' Did you get that, Mae?"

"Dad, what is this? Why are you giving me a spell?" And one so simple.

"Mae, just repeat the spell back to me. Now." He raises an eyebrow. He sounds more serious than usual.

Mae have always had an incredible memory but only when she pays attention which is not quite all the time. She recites the spell, "Blood to blood, we call to thee, blood to blood, we obey thee, Blood to blood, we release thee."

"Good. Now keep repeating it in your head until you can recite it by heart."

Mae nods her head. She has already memorized the spell. "Dad, are you and Mom really alright?"

"Yes, Mae. We're fine. Just remember, do nothing that will anger the witch, do you get me?"

Mae nods her head. "Dad, I miss..." Henry disappears. "...you."

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5 comments:

  1. What a story!
    Now I wonder if there is a shop exactly like this somewhere in Zurich...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nice magical fiction.

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  3. I like that it is set in Zurich, I've been there. Nice story so far.

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  4. I usually think of you as a visual artist until you have these creative writing series and then I'm reminded that you are both a writer and visual artist.

    ReplyDelete

"To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it." -- Kurt Vonnegut