What has happened? I don’t understand it, and it makes me angry. It was working, I am sure of it. Over and over, I would pull out my little Jack and concentrate fiercely on the real Jack, murmuring my spell: “Bring Jack to me, forever to be.” It’s not fancy poetry, I know, but I don’t suppose Mad Gerda’s spells were either. And I could feel Jack coming closer. At first it was so faint I thought it was just my own hopeful imagining. But it grew stronger each time I repeated the spell. And then suddenly—he was gone.
Something—or someone—has interfered. But Jack is mine. He came to me, didn’t he? I’m not about to let anybody else steal him away.
My spell worked the first time. It was slow, but it was working. I’ll just start again. I have plenty of time, after all. I will never give up—and sooner or later, Jack will come to me before that interfering nosybody can get in my way.