Page 19 of The Book of Unwritten Stories

Light the candle, burn the herbs in the flame

Write the name of thy neighbour on paper and tie with cotton

Hold it in the flame until it burns and speak these words.

‘What is mine can never be thine

I banish thee for all eternity

Into the night, be gone from my sight.’

She stared at what she’d written. Not having to think about it, the words had flowed from the pen onto the soft vellum pages, as if the book itself was writing them. Tearing a strip off Red’s Sandwich Shop menu, which she had tacked onto the refrigerator, she scribbled Mrs Danby on the corner, folded it and tied the red string around it. Lighting the candle, she took a pinch of the yarrow and rowan then sprinkled them into the flame, which shot up so high she jumped back, her heart racing, hoping she wasn’t about to banish her awful neighbour by burning the apartment block down and making them all homeless.

When the flame calmed a little, she held the paper in it, watching the grey wisps of smoke as the corners curled and then caught alight. Dropping it into the saucepan before it burned the tips of her fingers, she repeated the words and watched as the paper turned to ash. There were no fireworks, no big boom of anything, but the air inside of her apartment was now fizzing with unseen energy that Morana could feel all around her.

She glanced at the book and there were little sparks of red and purple snapping from it as if someone had run a stream of electricity through the pages. She reached out to touch the sparks that looked like tiny fireflies and felt the energy absorb through her fingertips gathering speed and force. Then she was thrown backwards with a huge jolt as if she’d been electrocuted.

Morana landed in a heap on the floor with a loud, ‘Ouch.’

Her phone began to ring, and she knew that would be Kim wondering where she was. She didn’t think she had the energy to speak to her, she felt so weird.

Pushing herself onto her hands and knees she crawled towards the arm of the chair it was balanced on. ‘Hey, sorry, Kim I feel sick.’

‘I was worried, you weren’t here to open up.’

‘I know, I’m really sorry. I don’t think I can make it. I got there and felt so ill I had to come home.’ She was breathless, her voice sounded raspy which gave her some credence.

‘It’s okay, take it easy but if you’re not okay for tomorrow can you let me know later?’

‘Of course.’

Kim ended the call, and Morana felt terrible, not just physically but emotionally as well. Her body felt different.

A loud bang and lots of screaming came from the street outside, and she rushed over to the window to see what was happening.

A delivery truck was in the middle of the road with a crowd of people gathering around it. She could see someone was on the floor and her stomach cramped hard as she fought to stop the sickness rising when she recognised the bent leg with the bright red sneaker on the end of it. The only person she knew who wore those old school red Adidas sneakers picked up at Goodwill was Mrs Danby.

Morana ran downstairs, leaving her apartment door open, and out into the street. Sirens in the distance filled the air which was hushed as the crowd around the person partially under the wheels of the truck watched in horror. Morana pushed her way through them and wished that she hadn’t. Mrs Danby’s body was broken and lying in a position that told her she was seriously injured without even looking at the blood seeping from her partially crushed head. Mrs Danby’s eyelids were flittering as if she was in and out of consciousness, blood was pooling all around her like some kind of terrible halo. Morana felt her knees tremble then give way and she slumped onto the tarmac.

She felt a gentle hand take hold of her elbow, helping her to her feet. It was the guy from Enchanted, who had served her not thirty minutes ago.

‘Hey, come on. I’m sorry, do you know her?’

Morana’s tongue was so dry it was sticking to the roof of her mouth, making it difficult to speak, so she nodded.

‘Well, you don’t need to be watching this. Let’s go into the shop and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

She didn’t argue. She took one final glance at her troublesome neighbour and knew that it was all her fault. She had cast the spell, and it had worked within minutes. Mrs Danby, if she survived this, would never covet her apartment ever again.

* * *

She blurted, ‘It’s my fault.’

‘I’m Ethan, we haven’t been formally introduced, but I can assure you that it most certainly isn’t your fault. Were you driving that truck?’

She shook her head.

‘See, not your fault. Take a seat out the back where it’s quiet and I’ll make us a drink. I’m not sure I was ready for that at this time in the morning.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m not sure that the woman didn’t totally deserve it too.’