chapter 2

Chapter 04

"She's mad, but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire." ― Charles Bukowski

The lark had made an appearance just when I started to lose faith in myself; as if he were a sign from The Mother to make me get going, and not to let morbid thoughts imprison me in a hopeless state of mind. I had to make it in time, there was no way that I was to leave them waiting, and thus angering the spirits of the woods. I've got this.

For some reason or other, the trees seemed to let me go smoothly this time, and the once freezing, chilly air seemed to warm up after he vanished out of nowhere. I wondered if he were one of the immortal creatures of the bushes that lived all their lives lurking in the deep spooky woods; I wondered if they were harmless, if one of them was to appear and block my way again. 

The lark, flying high in the, now, breezy night; escorted me all the way while I held the box with a sort of a deadly grip, not risking losing it again. Reaching the place where we were to start the ceremony, I glimpsed a dozen of young girls standing in a circle by a bonfire. The small pieces of the wood that they probably used to start the fire with were all gathered in one pile of orange kindling. The party of ten girls has made already an ideal move, making the first steps, regarding that I was late.

Standing before them, I smiled. What I was going to do, would enfeeble my father and mother's admiration and trust; usually, that would have saddened me. But this time, however, it filled me with a strong, tremulous hope instead of desperate, idle unhappiness. For the first time, I was not locked away in a vast chamber for the own safety of others. This time, I was out and needed. Needed from those who saw my curse as gift and were willing to make me wake it up from its deep fast slumber and use it for a good cause. The cause of love. Wasn't it romantic? I considered it thus although I won't be the one having the starring role in a romantic story by the end of this night, for I'd be its drunk in imagination author.

"I am Ramona, and, upon the desire of The Mother, I shall be leading today's ceremony," I declared, "The words I shall cast are not to be bitter but all sweet and delicious, and you, each one of you, shall be returned, tied and happy with your lovers. Trust in they; The lord, The Mother and the tamed spirits." The girls standing around me, nodded their heads in approval and started holding hands with each other, closing up the circle.

"During my discourse on an issue your love life is facing, you are to drop an item the targeted lover had gifted you and add a log to the bonfire. But beware; for said lovers must be mutually in love with you- otherwise the spell of trust won't work. Said lovers must be mourning your loss- otherwise the spell of love returning from death/ distance/ illness won't work. Said lovers must be blind of your love to give them sight of it- otherwise it won't work. Said lovers are to be wicked to be given forgiveness, are to be delicate and feeble to be given strength, and said lovers are to be heartless to be given a heart- otherwise the spell won't work. But most importantly, they must be present tonight either by body, photograph, item, or a spirit," I announced, loud enough to be well heard by the party.

Opening the box that I was holding in my hands, I cleared my throat as I brought the two small larks out. Their brother above praying for great relief to befall their souls as I started: "'You can battle the river or let it take you down stream, dear; for what thy life will ever be is you and me; I am the one thy heart desires, I am the one thy heart desires, I am the one thy heart desires." As I said these words a few girls that were standing beside each other came forward with an item and a photograph in each of their hands before they headed towards the heap of kindling to bring a log to throw on the bonfire. With each word I chimed in, the roaring fire grew more; giving me strength and power to carry on. "'I call thee beloved one to come towards me, yearn for me, crave me, and to love me more than anyone." My feet had started to lift up inches from the ground, and all I could see was fire, fire, and more fire as I threw the two larks into the eye and heart of it. "Fourteen times I have pierced my heart, seven times she has burnt this lark, and now you feel the magic start as I throw the poor creature down the blazing hearth and it comes back flying alive." By now, my whole body was raging with fire, and my veins were drowned in a mortifying heat as I stood high in the sky above everything else, but the stars, in a ball of seething heat; but I was feeling nothing but alive as the larks I threw moments ago were dancing around me. I continued, this time, shouting at the to tops of my lungs, "Sticks and stones will break thy bones, and leave you lying in the mud unless you come back to me: thy home." I was dying- losing the ability to breathe, but, still I carried on," Bind thy heart and soul to me, my one; for she has froze its brother in shame, and now it shall return with a flaming will to tame thy wicked, wild heart. Bind thy treacherous heart and soul to me, as I do will; so let it be.'" 

The last words I opened my mouth to utter didn't come out, or if they did I didn't hear them; for all I heard was screams down beneath my feet as blue and orange flames snarled me up alive. There was no way out.