Finish That Thought #9

I’ve been out of commission for the past week, and not writing much at all. I’m jumping back in today, starting with a challenge from the lovely host Alissa Leonard. Here is my entry for this week’s Finish That Thought. Please do check out her blog for more fun stories, and maybe even participate with a Finish That Thought tale of your own!

If I had known I would be here again, I would have brought my spell book. This would happen while I’m at a doctor’s appointment. Well, I’ll just have to wing it. Let’s see, how did that ward spell go?

In the western tower the bell tolls three, you will not get another warning from me.

One would think a witch would know better than to cast a persuasion spell against another witch, especially one with my particular talents. No matter. If she didn’t know before, she soon will. You’d think a witch would know better than to cast a love spell in the first place. Love simply cannot be forced. Meddling fool, playing a game she cannot possibly understand with dire consequences she must be unaware of. Or maybe she does know what will happen.

For the love spell to work against one who is already in love, their beloved would have to die. Who would willingly allow a man to die simply so they could have his wife? I’ll have to weave some element of protection in, my brilliantly sterile surroundings should suffice. Who needs white candles when you have white walls, white chairs and bright white lights? Yes, this exam room will do nicely.

Now to figure out which is the east wall. Just so happens, it’s the wall with the single window. I can see my silver van from here, the glint of the sun burns past my eyes and deep into my skull. Close your eyes, Midge. Focus.

In the western tower the bell tolls three, you will not get another warning from me.

In your mindless meddling you forgot one thing, even innocent intentions have feral wings.

Withdraw your mark, lest the arrow flies and the one you love, loves the one who dies.

A love so sought has greater cost, than what you’re after, the object lost.

There. That should do it. At three this afternoon, she’ll get the only warning I’m inclined to send. Oh, this damn headache is only getting worse.

Wait a second, why would a witch send a love spell against another, more powerful witch, without cloaking it? At the very least, she should have disguised it as something else. Unless I wasn’t the intended target. The walls shouldn’t be spinning. I shouldn’t be falling. The room shouldn’t be so dark.

Published in Random Rambling


Jessica West (West1Jess) is pursuing a state of self-induced psychosis (reading, writing, editing). She lives in Acadiana with three daughters still young enough to think she’s cool and a husband who knows better but likes her anyway.

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