The Book In The Attic

              Humid air combined with the smell of dust and old books practically choked me, I felt like I was breathing in swamp water.

 Alas, it is my lot in life as the eldest child in the family to be ‘responsible’ and help clean out the attic. So here I am, sitting amongst mildew covered cardboard boxes and my own self-pity.

 Tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear, I pulled another box over to sort through. It was the cleanest of the bunch and wasn’t quite as heavy as the others. Pulling open the top I peeked inside, like a secret treasure rested a single book, which wouldn’t be too odd considering the hundreds of cookbooks grandma had stored up here, except the designs were strange.

 Thick and leather-bound with golden swirls engraved across the cover, I pulled it out of the box gently. It felt like something that needed to be handled with care. Running my hand over the warm cover, I flipped it open to the first page. Maybe cleaning out the attic wasn’t as boring as I thought.

 Scrawled in dark blue ink, it read, Lidia Swanson’s Book of Shadows.

Lidia Swanson? That was my families last name, but I didn’t recognize the first.

Carding through the pages until a flash of green caught my eye, it was my favorite color. On the page emerald designs were sprawled across the paper, curving and curling across one another surrounding the words, Healing Spell. It went into details on items needed, words to be spoken, and best times to cast.

 Beautiful as it was, confusion set in after awe. I had seen stuff like this on tv before but finding it in my own attic was beyond weird. Why did we have a spell book? Who was Lidia? Was someone in my family a cult member? I thought we were Catholic.

 “Sam, can I borrow your sweater?” My little sister, Beth, called up to me from the ladder.

 I hastily hid the book back in the box and hastily replied over my shoulder, “Sure, I don’t care!” I couldn’t let her find out about this book. It was the only interesting thing to happen to me for a while and if I let her see she would hog it to herself, just like everything else in this house.

“Thanks! You ok up there? You sound funny, you didn’t inhale any mold fumes, did you?”

“No, I didn’t inhale any mold fumes,” I said rather incredulously, “It’s just humid.”

“Whatever. I’m going to Isabelle’s. See you later.”

I let out relieved breath. If she was going to her friend’s house that meant she’d be gone for a while, and I could use this time to do some research.

I pulled the book back into my lap. “Ok, time to find out what you are.”

Grabbing my phone off of where I stuck it on the floorboards, I turned it on. The bright electric light clashed with what little light was shed from the blinking lightbulb overhead.

After googling what a Book of Shadows was, my first notions were confirmed. It was a spell book, sort of. A Book of Shadows is used by witches for recording their spells, rituals, recipes, basically anything related to their ‘craft’. This was so cool.

And it must have belonged to someone in my family at some point. I couldn’t believe it. I have been to many family cookouts, and most of my family members bordered on preppy or boring, definitely not a rule-breaking, curse-slinging, witch!

 Who could it be though? I had to find out.

 I flipped through the book with building excitement, hoping the answer might spill from the pages. I was beginning to lose hope until I hit the last page.

 On it, was a depiction of a birch tree with ornaments hanging off of it. Silver highlighted names within the tree.

 Running my finger across the smooth paper, I searched for someone I recognized. There was Lidia… and grandma! Bingo. But wait, the way the tree ran, that meant grandma was Lidia’s daughter. And that meant… my great grandmother was a witch!

I squealed and jumped up and down a bit, unable to contain myself any longer. I needed to talk to grandma about this immediately.

I wrapped the book protectively in my arms and stuck my phone in my back pocket.

I practically raced out of the house after hurling some quick excuses to mother in the hallway. She might be upset with me for ditching, but she could yell at me later.

Speeding across the front lawn I got on my bike and kicked in the stand. Grandma didn’t live too far away, but I wanted to get there immediately.

My bike was rather old, and there were stickers peeling off of it from where Beth had placed them, but it was still a stable ride. I placed the book in the front basket and grabbed a bungee cord from the garage to make sure it was secure.

 This was perhaps one of the most exciting things to happen this summer. Scratch that, it was the most exciting.

I arrived at grandma’s and knocked on her door with anticipation, book in hand.

“Let yourself in, it’s unlocked!” I heard her voice call from inside.

I already knew it was unlocked, she only locked it at night. But I was raised to be polite, so I knocked anyways.

Entering the house, I swung into the kitchen. She was standing by the mixing bowl and adding some milk to whatever she was cooking up. “Well, if it isn’t one of my favorite grandchildren, how’s it going Samantha?”

 Grandma was the only one I didn’t mind calling me by my full name. Since I turned fourteen, I decided to go by Sam since it was much more mature in my opinion.

“It’s going fine.” The book still rested in my hug/death grip. “I need to ask you something, Grams.” I was suddenly a bit apprehensive to tell her about my discovery. I had so much adrenaline I didn’t really think this through. She didn’t talk to me much about her mother in the first place.

“Ask away.” She looked up from the mixing bowl and smiled at me. Her hair was pinned carefully into a bun, she always seemed so put together.

“Well…” Oh, I’m just being a chicken. “Ok, so I’ve been cleaning out the attic and I found something.” I laid the book gingerly on the kitchen counter.

Her expression became unreadable and she was quiet for a long moment, so I continued, “I saw it belonged to a Lidia Swanson. Was that your mother?”

Grams let out a long sigh, “I was wondering if that thing might turn up again. I put it away with everything else after she died because I didn’t want to be reminded…”

“I’m sorry.” I suddenly felt a bit bad about the whole thing.

“Don’t be dear, I might as well tell you. My mother was a spectacular woman, it would be a shame for her history to be lost.”

Grams herded me into the living room and brought the book with. We sat on the couch together and she began the story.

“My mother, Lidia, was a witch. Not the evil, or super powered kind you see on the television lately, but a genuine witch.” Her voice was soft, and she spoke fondly, “She helped people however she could, whether it was with herbs from her garden, or with a shoulder to lean on. She used this book as her focus. The spells inside are about intention, rather than power. Or so she told me.”

I nodded to show I was still listening, staring at the book with growing wonder.

She continued, “When I was young, I thought it was the most magical thing in the world, but as I grew older, I began to lose faith. I suppose most children stray from their parent’s beliefs to try and find their own…” She stroked the cover of the book as though lost in memory. “We grew apart, and when I met your grandfather, I didn’t want him to think my family was crazy, so I hid the way I was raised. I hid my mother. And then I hid this book. Although not very well, I should have known that attic would be cleaned out eventually.”

“But is the magic real? You said your mom helped people.” I asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter. She was a brilliant, kind-hearted woman, who dedicated her life to providing for her family and supporting her friends. I don’t know if what she did was magic, but looking back, I think she was magic.”

We sat there for a moment and I considered her words. I was a little disappointed that the book didn’t have the power to turn my sister into a frog for a day. However, it was also nice to find out I was related to such an interesting woman. Well, another interesting woman, my mom and grandma are both interesting even though they aren’t witches.

“You know what, I think you should have this.” Grams handed me the book.

“Really? I can keep it. I thought you wanted to keep it hidden.”

“Things have changed since then, I’ve changed, and I know that you will take good care of it, Samantha.” She stood up and began to walk back to the kitchen. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find your own magic.”