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A cautionary tale inspired by my book of Romany spells:
Worrisome Magic
Agnes turned to her husband. ‘Robin, I worry about my mother.’
‘She worries me, too.’ This was said with a doleful look and absolute honesty.
‘No. I mean the dabbling with spells. I fear she will be taken up for witchcraft. I will have a word with her.’
Robin gave her a look that said, rather you than me, m’dear. He stood up. ‘Anyway, I’ve a grave to dig.’ He said this as if it were a novelty, which it hardly was for a grave-digger. Agnes nodded and waved him out.
When her mother walked in Agnes was prepared and went straight to the point. ‘Mother, about the spells…’ She stopped. Her mother, usually so robust, was very pale. ‘What is it? Are you ill?’
‘Nothing. Nothing. I did a spell to improve my eyesight, that’s all. Saffron boiled in springwater. On a Sunday. Bathe the eyes with it and it will take the mistiness away. That’s all it was.’
Agnes gave her a long look, her own eyes screwed up. She could tell this wasn’t the whole story. ‘And did it improve your sight?’
‘It did.’
Agnes nodded. There was something unsaid, and she waited, but her mother turned away.
She would never tell her daughter that this spell was for insight as well as for eyesight, and that after she had bathed her eyes she had seen herself, as clear as clear could be, somewhere in a future time. All alone. Completely and utterly alone. She would never, never use that spell again. But it was too late. She couldn’t un-see the future.
Look out for another Spell Story next week.