10 Days of Superstition

Cynthia only had ten days to prevent something terrible. The owl had come to her in her sleep, waking her with its deep hooting that echoed through her open window. In her room, the moonlight shone through to reveal the silhouette of the raptor in the tree, and she laid there counting his cries. Ten total - that’s how she knew the number of days. But when it came time for the bird to reveal itself fully, to supply the final clues as to what terrible news it had brought to her, the owl instead flew away, easily escaping her view as she struggled to get out of bed for the better look. 

Tripping over her blankets, Cynthia rushed to her work table instead, where she kept a mint candle handy for such occasions. Lighting the wick with slightly trembling hands, she pulled up her stool and sat down in front of the flame. She closed her eyes and began to hum softly, using her own body’s energy to guide the spell as she focused on the owl in her mind. The cool yet stinging scent began to float in the air and she took in a deep breath of the smoke to aid her vision. Across her eyelids, she could see treetops and the moon, fully ripe above the forest. And against its glow, the owl swooped into view. But no color or real shape could be seen - as soon as she realized that she had tracked the bird, her excitement got the best of her limited training and she lost the vision immediately. 

She slapped the table in frustration, “I hate it when that happens.” And as if to test her further, the candle fell over, snuffed out by the spilled wax as it pooled out into a puddle. Cynthia groaned and threw her face into her hands, “Now how am I supposed to know what the damn owl was trying to tell me?” A cloud passed in front of the moon and her room fell into darkness.

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Over the next five days, Cynthia tore through her collection of spell books and herbal recipes that she had collected over the years. She had thought something to do with summoning might do the trick to get the owl to return, but the spells she found were for a very different type of animal attraction. Any ideas that she tried to explore always ended the same way: deadends filled with useless knowledge. By the time she had accepted that she was getting nowhere on the sixth day, she had learned seven different ways to heal gout and a spell to convince loved ones to give you buttons on your birthdays.

With a deep sigh, she took out her cell phone and called up her mentor, Lucy. A woman with a devilish sense of humor who despised anything modern, it had always surprised Cynthia that the crazy old bat had a landline - until she overheard a steamy conversation late at night when they used to live together. Turns out magic alone can’t satisfy some needs.

The phone rang thrice, and then a click followed by the familiar raspy voice - “Cynthia, it’s been a while. What have you gotten yourself into this time? I know it’s not daily practice.”

“Great, you’re a mind reader now too, I see.”

A cackle and a cough, “No, no, I’m not that good - yet. I just know you, my dear. Now, what can I do to help?”

“An owl came to see me.”

Silence from the other end, but only for a few moments, “I’m sorry, a what?”

“An owl - I’ve been researching international magic practices, and I came across this blog-”

“A flog? What are you flogging down there?”

“No, it’s an article that’s online. And it talked about how owls are bringers of bad news, so you have to pay attention when you hear or see one. And I heard it hoot 10 times - so whatever bad thing is going to happen will be on the tenth day. I’m just grateful that the damn thing didn’t come inside, because that could only mean someone’s death was imminent.”

More silence on the other line, and then, “Well, if you read it online, it must be true. So what then is the bad news?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I only heard it - the owl flew away before I could get a look. And I tried to call up my second sight to see the owl and get more clues, but…”

“Let me guess, you used a candle instead of fresh mint.”

Cynthia did her best to keep her anger out of her voice, “Candles are much easier to burn, especially when you’re in a hurry.”

Lucy laughed, “And if you weren’t in such a hurry, you would have been able to see that owl as clear as day.”

Now it was Cynthia’s turn to go silent, but Lucy was too busy cackling to notice, “Alright girl, I’ll help you find your bird. How many days do you have left before the bad news comes true?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to re-summon the bird for about five-ish days now.”

“Ish?! Mother Goddess, may you teach this girl how to keep track of time.” Before Cynthia could defend herself, Lucy cut back in, “Alright, it’s time to get to work then. I have some ancient resources that just might do the trick”

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After another hour or two on the phone with Lucy, Cynthia was ready to get back to work. The older witch has shared a variety of spells and rituals to try and, with the impending bad event looming over her head, Cynthia was more motivated than she had ever been to practice her craft. 

First up was a vision spell, where she placed two mirrors opposite one another and chanted for hours on end to have the owl appear in the infinite reflections. But her only reward was a headache from the glare of the sunlight refracting endlessly as she tried to concentrate on the glass.

That night, Cynthia walked from room to room, whistling constantly to attract visitors and to lure the owl back to her. She even leaned out her bedroom window to beckon the raptor, but instead scared herself when she accidentally startled a squirrel trying to settle in for the night.

Each day following was a repeat of the same: calling Lucy for more ideas on what to try next, then spending hours trying and failing to understand the message the owl had brought to her. Some of the spells she had tried included setting 13 candles around her in a circle and reciting a summoning spell; setting up a ladder and standing underneath it while using her inner voice to call out to the owl and have it perch on the top step; knocking on wood in specific patterns and then pausing to see if a distant hoot could be heard. 

Finally, it was the tenth day and there was nothing left to try. Cynthia sat in her comfy chair in the library, surrounded by piles of candles, books, mirrors, and papers. The headache from said mirrors had only gotten worse as the days grew shorter, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in both aggravation and a desperate attempt at relief. After some deep breathing, she grabbed her cell phone off the side table and rang up Lucy once again.

“No luck on the bad news?” The older witch’s voice was piercing from the other end and Cynthia quickly switched it to speakerphone to get the sound as far from her ear as possible. She laid the phone on her lap and sighed.

“None - whatever bad thing is supposed to happen will happen, and I have no clue what it could be.”

“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I might know what the owl was trying to tell you.”

Cynthia sat straight up in the chair, nearly knocking the phone perched on her knee to the ground, “What is it?!”

“Here’s the bad news: superstitions are only magical to humans. And sometimes a bird’s just a damn bird.”

Cackling erupted from the other end and Cynthia struggled to understand with her headache pounding at her temples. “Lucy, if this is some game you’re playing-”

Trying to compose herself, the older witch responded, “No game, it’s a lesson. Instead of doing proper training, you’ve got your nose deep into the Internet, gobbling up everything without even asking yourself if what you’re reading makes sense. And the first thing any good witch should know is that throwing salt over your shoulder is a waste and black cats are perfectly fine. I figured you’d learn that yourself by the time I told you to stand under a ladder and…”

Lucy started choking on her belly laughs and her words were caught off. Cynthia could only make out a few words amidst the cacophony - “can’t believe” - “I love it” - “the mirrors!”. The sense of dread she had been living under started to shift into deep anger and she coldly interrupted, “Great, another one of your tricks. I’ve had it, Lucy - this is why I stopped training under you!”

“You’ll live and maybe you’ve learned something too.” Lucy barely had herself contained, “Oh girl, thanks for that laugh. Nothing like a good build-up before the finale. And since you like mint so much, steep some peppermint for tea, that’ll help with your headache.”

“How did you know I have one?”

“Maybe I’m a mindreader. Or I just know you’re setting there with that pissed-off look on your face and the pain to match!”

Cynthia angrily pressed the End Call button and threw her phone, but the cackle still echoed in her ears as she sat stewing in her chair and then got up to make the tea.