Eddie paced around his kitchen table. All the ingredients for the spell were laid out, ready to be executed. But he was still going back and forth, debating whether he should go through with it. Not only was he afraid of looking like a fool, but he was afraid of what sort of higher power might interfere—or damn him for it later.
He thought of Father Thompson’s words. He was only helping out a friend, which the church fully supported. Then again, how could he be sure that the note was really written by the Frankie Walker that he knew? It was a common enough name. It could’ve been anybody who wrote that note.
He glanced at the time. It was two minutes until midnight. The note said to cast the spell at exactly midnight. He had to make a decision soon.
Eddie sat down at the table and blinked several times, feeling his eyes burning. His body was sore and tired from a long week at work. Not to mention the stress of mulling all of this over during the last couple days. The thought came to him that he could just go to bed and forget the whole thing.
But would that really be the end of it? Wouldn’t he regret not throwing some ingredients together and saying a few words, just in case? What if he found out later that a simple rhyme, coupled with a few herbs that he had already purchased, would make the world of a difference for Frankie.
The hands on the clock ticked over to midnight. It was now or never.
Taking a deep breath, Eddie stood and began to put together the ingredients listed. There weren’t too many. Three herbs—yarrow flower, thyme, and pennyroyal—and a specifically-colored candle—black—pointed to the north side of the bowl full of herbs.
He lifted the note with a shaking hand and began to recite. He started once, then stopped to clear his throat. The nerves had made his voice dry and irritated. Clearing it, he sounded like himself as he recited the spell.
Spanning the energies across all time,
I call on the power of the divine.
Rid this evil from the future and past,
Take him after this spell has been cast.
As soon as he finished the words, he waited for something to happen. Some spark of light, or cracking of windows, or a beast to arrive to tear out his heart. Or worse, laughter and heckling.
Instead, there was nothing. No sound. No fire. No light.
Nothing.
The worry and stress Eddie had felt was immediately replaced with embarrassment. How could he be so stupid as to fall for such an obvious prank? It was a good thing he was alone. Nobody would be able to torment him for this later.
He blew out the candle and set it on the fireplace mantle in the living room, then returned to the kitchen where he promptly dumped the bowl full of herbs into the trash. He stuck the dish in the sink, tossed the note in the trash, and turned out the lights.
As Eddie lay down to bed, he stared up at the shadows that were cast on the ceiling from the streetlight, and vowed to never mention any of this to anyone. Ever. He only hoped that the few people he had mentioned it to already would forget it just as he intended to do himself.