Forget Me Knot

Submitted into Contest #182 in response to: Write a story where someone’s paranoia is justified.... view prompt

1 comment

Mystery Drama Horror

“He’s staying with his wife,” Sasha sobbed, dabbing her eyes. “I’m such a fool!”

Amy patted Sasha’s hand, trying to calm her down and perhaps, more importantly, lower her voice. A few customers looked their way. Amy offered the lookers a strained smile.

They sat across from each other at a small round table in a tucked away corner of INCANTATIONS.

The store was busy today, especially for a Monday. Not that she was complaining. Customers were always good for business.

 “Drink your tea,” Amy urged.

With shaking hands, Sasha managed a small sip.

 Up until this point, it had been a relatively quiet day at INCANTATIONS. As usual, Amy was in before dawn to prepare the store for opening – dusting, restocking shelves and checking sticker prices. But, she admitted, all else aside, she rather enjoyed the early morning solitude. No deliveries, no customers, no cash to handle. The aroma of scented candles and specialty oils they sold - vanilla, chamomile and strawberry to name a few - lingered in the air.

Sasha stepped into the store a few minutes after noon, the electronic chime alerting Amy that she had a customer.

“Good afternoon,” Amy had said. She stood behind the counter, going through a page of inventory. “Anything I can help with?”

“Just browsing,” the woman said.

Amy nodded, pursing her lips. That was a lie, she knew. This woman was far from just browsing. She was looking to get rid of some hurt.

She was almost 6 feet, thin and extremely attractive - shoulder length sandy blonde hair, near flawless skin, long legs, small waist, large breasts.

What problems could she possibly have? Amy fiddled with one of the hoop earrings she wore. She supposed everyone had troubles. Even beautiful people.

As the woman pretended to browse, Amy slipped into the back room through a curtain. She plugged in a kettle there and made tea.

When she finished, she set the tea pot on a coaster on a table near the cash, where she did most of her palm and tarot readings. Gently, she moved aside the crystal ball.

She sat down, poured two cups.

“Please sit, sit” she told the lady, nodding to the chair opposite her.

The woman looked up from a candle she held in her hand and said, “Does this candle really bring love?”

“If you believe it will, it will, yes. But I don’t think you want that.”

The truth was, everything in the store was ordinary until it was cast with a spell. On rare occasions, she was known to dabble in what her mother used to call “the arts”.

Putting the candle back, the woman somewhat hesitantly took the open chair across from Amy.

“Did you have trouble finding us?” Amy asked.

INCANTATIONS was crammed between bookend stores Lemon Yellow Bakery and Sheep’s Clothing.

“I wasn’t looking to be honest. I just wanted to take a walk at lunch.”

“I see.”

Amy chuckled lowly. That’s how people usually found the store. Not like she wasted money on advertising.

“I’m Amy by the way.”

“Sasha.”

“Sasha. Tell me.”

And she had.

“I was his secretary. I’m a cliché,” she said next, and started to laugh and then burst out crying. Tears tracked down her face. “The sex was so good. He’d tell me he loved me all the time.”

She nodded. “He has a hold on you.”

“It just hurts. I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I have no peace. He promised to leave his wife. I don’t know why I wanted him so bad but he’s my soul mate. I still work with him every day.”

Amy listened intently.

“I don’t have long,” Sasha said, pulling out her phone. “My lunch break is almost over. I need to walk back soon”.

She was ready to run. Amy could almost hear Sasha’s heart beating a staccato against her chest.

“What do you want from me, Sasha?”

      “You? You have a potion or amulet or a voodoo doll? I want him dead.”

      Amy had heard it all before, of course. Jilted lovers were always a big draw to the store. People seeking love, money or just some peace always found their way too. She reached over and patted Sasha’s hand. She was so young, so incredibly beautiful that Amy wondered what could possibly have brought a woman to such extremes. That she was hurting so badly was not in question, but could Amy help her –?

      She could. “No death, my dear.”

      Sasha offered a half-hearted smile and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

      “Then what? It hurts. Make him love me more than his wife. That’s what I really want,”

      Quick, Amy slid her chair back and left the table. At the cash, she reached under the counter and drew out a jar of strings.

Amy couldn’t contain a smile. Yes, a simple spell would do the trick. It was one of the first she had ever learned. She still remembered her mother reading from the ancient spell almanac she kept hidden in the closet.

      At the table again, she said, “I think it's time to forget the hold he has on you, don’t you? Close your eyes.”

“What for?”

“Please. Indulge me.”

She took Sasha’s index finger on her right hand and grabbing a string, tied a tight knot right past her knuckle.

“Ouch.”

“Eyes closed. Stop peeking. Shhhhh.”

Amy closed her eyes now. She leaned down by the string, kissed it, then whispered, “Forget the heartache.” She pulled away. “Open your eyes.”

Sasha looked down at the string on her finger. “So this will make me forget him, huh?”

Skepticism lay heavy in her voice.

“Not exactly,” Amy said. “But you will forget how you loved him. Your heartache will be gone and because of that, your anger will no longer exist.”

Amy loved that the book called this particular spell ‘Forget Me Knot’.

It’s tight,” Sasha said wiggling her finger.

      “You want this to work?”

      She nodded, biting her quivering bottom lip.

      “Then the knot stays tight.”

      “How long do I wear it?”

      “An hour or two. When it works, and it will, I will get paid then. Fair?”

      “Yes. Fair.”

      “Call me later.” She took a card from her purse and handed it to her. “Now drink your tea.”

During the afternoon she saw only a handful of customers. A few love candles were sold (the scent would make people feel good but without the right words it wouldn’t work its full magic) plus a few oils intended to enhance your sex life. (it would make sex great, she assured her customers when asked, but didn’t mention that without the right words used over the oil, sex was not going to reach the multiple orgasmic possibilities.)

By 5 she still hadn’t heard from Sasha.

By 7, she started to feel concern.

At 9, as she locked up, her concern was spreading to low level anger. She had helped this lady, had listened to her cry, had listened intently to her whimper and now she was what… trying to gyp her?

At home, maybe she'd give a look at the book's darker pages. Even her mother frowned on those. Yes, it was part of their history, but it wasn’t necessary to use any spells scrawled there.

No.

She slammed the idea closed, just like she would have the book.

No, she mustn’t go down that road.

      A block from home, her phone rang.

      “So, so sorry,” the voice said.

      Sasha. Finally. “I was getting worried.”

“The knot worked. I was feeling so good, I didn’t even go back to work till later. I spent the day thinking it would wear off but when I did go back, to work I mean, I felt nothing for him. My boss. I am sorry. I lost track of time. I feel like my old self.”

      “Glad to hear.” And she was relieved.

      “I’ll be by tomorrow and settle up.”

      She strolled the two blocks to her apartment. The doorman nodded as he opened the door for her.

Once in the penthouse apartment, she fixed herself a grilled cheese sandwich for supper, did the dishes up, took a long shower and then towel secured around her, moved to the living room where she heard snoring.

Her husband lay passed out in his lazy boy, glass of wine in hand. The tv was on. Must have come home while she was in the shower.

She loosened his tie and stared at him. He wasn’t much to look at – thin wisps of baby fine hair not even disguising his baldness, stubble riding high on blotchy cheeks, ample gut stretched against shirt buttons ready to pop - but he was hers.

But then, that wasn’t really true was it?

      She covered him up with a blanket.

      She took the string clutched in her hand and tied it around her husband’s finger.

Sasha's tear streaked face crossed her mind.

      (My lunch break is almost over. I need to walk back soon.)

Obviously, she worked close by.

      Amy’s husband worked a few blocks away too.

      He’d just made senior partner.

      Although he never mentioned it – and why would he? - Amy knew his new position definitely came with a secretary.

And of course, her husband knew Amy kept the book of spells under the bed and had since her mother died…

(I don’t know why I wanted him so bad…)

…and would have easily found the love candles incantation.

      She cinched the string tighter around his finger. He didn’t stir.

      She refused to use dark magic but…

She leaned in close to the knot, kissed it, then whispered, “Forget to breathe.”

THE END

January 25, 2023 11:25

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1 comment

Kimberly Close
18:16 Jan 29, 2023

Fantastic! I love how you tied the ending together. (You'd think the husband of a witch would know better than to cheat 😅)

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