Spellbound

We start off my visiting Claire in her life. She is the new owner of Spellbound and the new owner of a Small cottage on the cliffs.

Everyone has memories. Good and bad ones. If you had a stuffed animal you had to sleep with every night, if you were afraid of the dark, how you got that scar, and who your friends were growing up; most people know these things about themselves.  If someone were to walk up to on the street and ask about your family, you might recognize them from school.

Memories are a funny and yet very complex thing. Some people are naturally forgetful; others have sustained some type of injury or trauma that causes memory loss. Drugs have been known to affect that portion of the brain that stores all of life’s events. When you change the chemical balance of that small portion of your brain you can lose your childhood, your loved ones, your education, and what makes you, well you.

        Memory is defined as the faculty by which the mind stores and remembers information. Doctors have for years have tried to unravel the mystery of the human brain and how it stores such information. Is it just neurons firing off in a certain order? And when those neurons “misfire” where do those memories go? Do they just disappear or are they stored somewhere in some collective memory bank just waiting for the day that persons neurons fire right?

If I could answer that question, I might be able to recover my memories. The point in which my life began, for all that I remember, is the day I woke up in the hospital and knowing something major had just taken place. What? I could not say, because all of my memories were gone. When asked for my name I gave them the first thing that popped in my head. Claire. I cannot be for sure if that is my name, but it must mean something.

I had no one come visit me in the hospital to help me break through the fog of my mind. This tells me I have no family. Makes me wonder what type of person I was before the event that not even one friend came to see me. I would like to think I was a decent person but as they saying goes; the proof is in the pudding. Mrs. Hawkins disagrees with me. She says if I was such a horrible person she would have never left me Spellbound. I see it as atonement for that past life. I have done my best to be a good person. I have friends now. Maybe these ones would try to find me if something were to happen to me.

The only clue to the event is a small scar in my hairline. Head injury the doctors say. They told me I may one day regain my memory. It has been 10 years. I still do not know who I am. I will occasionally have dreams, which I was told was normal, that feel almost like memories. I seriously doubt though that a wolf played a big part in my life. Werewolves just do not exist.

Then there are the fire dreams. A woman covered in shadows throwing a fire ball at me. I find that more believable.  Magic is real, different species of humanoids are not. That would explain why I have this extremely irrational fear of fire. Being a witch and being afraid of fire can be an inconvenience. Have you ever tried to light candles without fire? Yea, not possible. I have tried to learn to light them without an already existing flame, but that is not where my talents lay.

Maybe it is the new direction my life after memory is taking, or I am just feeling sorry for myself after seeing two customers who were old friends get reacquainted right in front of me, but I am trying for the , well I lost track of times, to find a way to unlock those memories. I have tried magical means, medication, mediation, and everything in between. I need a way to grow my magic. My gut tells me that somewhere in this store full of magical books, tomes, artifacts, and all things supernatural I will find my answer. In the five years since I started working here, I have no luck what so ever. The only other magical being I have contact with is Mrs. Hawkins. She is a Brownie.

When the last of the family she had served for generation died off, she opened Spellbound. She started the store with the personal stock of magical items and books from their collection. Very rarely do serious practitioners visit the store. Which was a shame. It is a wealth of knowledge.

I looked down at the old grimore of one of those family members. I was hoping to find something new. I have been through this thing a million times. I had to start somewhere on this quest of mine. The store opened an hour ago but the rain and fog that had landed on the small English village of Whitefair kept potential customers bundled up inside their homes.

I looked out the stores front windows and wondered if I could life the fog a little. I concentrated on the water vapor but only managed to clear it where you could see ten feet in front of you instead of five. It sucked being a witch but yet simple spells gave me a headache.

The bell chimed to let me know a customer had come in. Maybe the fog lifting helped. I was disappointed to see Mrs. Hawkins standing in the doorway to the store. I should just give up hope on becoming a decent witch.

“Well dear I don’t look that bad do I?” Mrs. Hawkins must have sensed her disappointment. 

“Ugh. No. I tried a spell and not only did it not work great, I have a headache.” I needed an ice pack or an aspirin. At least my nose no longer bled when I tried performing a spell.

“Well you are no longer bleeding everywhere when you do it, which gives me hope.” Mrs. Hawkins was a good woman. It was a shame that her and her husband were leaving. I would miss them dearly. She was a short woman, which was normal for brownies, and she was so kind when I wondered into her store those five years ago. She was so tired of wandering England. She gave up hope of ever finding someone that knew her. She took one like at her and hired her on the spot.  Now she was the proud owner of the small store and Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins were retiring to a warmer dryer climate.

“I know I can do this. I feel like something is blocking me. Maybe the injury to my head hurt more than my memory.”

“In time all things will heal. Just be patient with yourself and your magic. I knew the first day I saw you that you had power. It is up to you to find that power. I have given you all the tools I had to help you.”

“Have you come to check up on me?” I fixed us a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker behind the counter.

“Hmmm…Just one last time before I leave.”

“You have taught me everything about the store I need to know. I have been five years now and know where everything is. I don’t want you to worry when you are supposed to be enjoying your retirement.” She has been working all of her long life. She had to be over two hundred now.

“Claire, something is in the air. Maybe I should hold off until the weather clears.”

“We are only miles from the coast. Rain and fog are perfectly normal for this part of England. Nothing supernatural about it. I would know.” That is one power that did not give me a headache. I could always tell when magic was at work. Mrs. Hawkins had tested me on several occasions. It is not a witch’s ability to be able to do that, but I showed no other signs of being anything else but a witch.

“If you say so.” Mrs. Hawkins sat her cup down on the counter and suddenly was smiling. “Oh...I almost forgot. I saw a for sale sign in front of this old cottage on one of the old roads leading towards the coast. It is up on a cliff and has great views of the ocean. You should call the realtor. It is time for you get out of that flat and into something of your own.”

“ I don’t know. Owning a house takes a lot of work.” I had been here for five years and now owned my own business. Buying a house was digging roots a little too deep.

“This is your home now.” I got a look of sympathy. “Your future is what awaits, your past is behind you. You need to settle down. Promise me you will at least look at it.”

“I promise.” I grumbled.

“That is a good girl.” She walked around the counter. “Now give me a hug. You are like a granddaughter to me and I want you to be happy. It has been ten years, time for you to start living in the now.”

I hugged the old brownie. She was the type of grandmotherly figure I dreamed I had always had. She definitely looked the part. Her hair was silvery grey and always in a tight bun. I never saw her without an apron tied around her round middle and always wore a long skirt. She said brownies were a little furry on their legs and the skirt hid it better.

“I’m going to miss you. I’ll go by the cottage after I close the store.”

“Be mindful of the fog.”

“I will.”

Mrs. Hawkins left and I decided she was right. I needed to concentrate on the here and now and not the life I cannot remember. Her own little house would be the perfect addition to her life here in Whitefair.

∞∞∞

I bought a house. It is a very exciting moment in one’s life. I knew after I took that first step through the front door that this house was meant to be mine. I felt like I was being called home. For someone who had not had a home in ten years, it was an extremely emotional moment. When I told Ashley, a friend and owner of the café neighboring Spellbound, about it, I actually cried.

“Get your butt in gear you witch.” Ashley hollered at me from the small porch of the house. “I am not moving you in by myself. You can admire it later.”

“I’m coming I’m coming. It’s not like I have much to move.” I grunted as I lifted the box of books back into my arms where I had laid it down on the path leading to the house. It was still very new and hard to believe it was mine. I put in an offer on it the day I saw it, and two days later it was mine. I have never bought a house before, but I was sure it normally took longer than that to buy a house.

“It is good thing it comes furnished, or you would be sleeping on the floor and sitting on milk crates.”

That was the other strange part. The house was fully furnished. Everything from the couch to the paintings on the wall. Whoever had left this house had left in a hurry. It did not seem they took anything but their clothes. The house was spotless though. Not an ounce of dust on any surface. It was one less thing I would have to do.

I laid the box in the small living room and looked around my house. My house! That would never get old. It was not a huge house and it was very old, but it was very homey. Shiny oak floors ran throughout every room in the house. The downstairs was very open and very bright. When you walked into the house you stepped directly into the living room. To the right was an old fireplace, which she did not plan on using, and two old couches with a green and white flower pattern sat on either side of it. An old Persian rug spanned the floor beneath the couches and antique coffee table.

        Her favorite room in the house was the kitchen. It was a quaint old fashioned country kitchen. The appliances were old, but at least they were white. The green cabinets with wood counters wrapped around the entire kitchen and formed a partial bar dividing it from the dining area. The stove was set into an alcove pressed into the back wall of the kitchen and the arch over the alcove was intricate in its design of old Celtic myths. The floors were made of cork and a small bay window was pictured about the sink. That window framed the wonderful view of the cliffs overlooking the North Sea. Though because of the fog the edge of the cliffs, that were only a hundred yards of so from the cottage could not even be seen.

“Well all the boxes have been brought in.” Ashley said from the dining area. “I will leave you unpacking and settling in. Poor Nora is probably ready to kill me leaving her to mind the café for so long.”

I barely registered her leaving. I stood in the middle of the house and just spun in circles trying to take it all in.

“I am not going to unpack, I am going to enjoy this first night in my very own house.” Talking to old houses was not weird at all, nope not at all.

I decided to give myself another tour of the house, now that it was mine. The stair case which was left to the entrance to the house had to be my second favorite part of the house. One the wall to support the steps was inlaid bookshelves. They were full of old books. Some of the titles I already knew, they were also stocked in Spellbound. I had did a quick scan of the others and noticed they looked very old and that they once belonged to another witch. I wondered if I would be able to find anything new in those. Old habits die hard, and even though I was starting a new future, my past was still important. It is what shapes us into the person we are today.

“Shi…!” I stuck my bleeding finger in my mouth. I stabbed myself with a piece of wood sticking out of the old banister. I glared at the offending piece of wood. I nearly fell back down half the flight of steps I had already taken when I noticed my blood disappeared into the wood and the offending piece sunk back down in to the banister.

It took me a minute of sucking on my finger and staring in disbelief before I took my uninjured hand and ran it over the spot that was just minutes ago ragged. The wood was smooth. Not one imperfection could be seen nor felt. If I did not have the hole in my finger to prove it, I would say I was losing my mind.

I cautiously climbed the rest of the steps, being careful not to touch the possessed railing again and went into my new master bath. I rinsed my finger off with cold water to stop the bleeding and decided a bath was in order, then sleep. I was sleep deprived, that was the problem. My new house being alive, nope not happening.

        The bathroom was the most modern room in the house. It was a large room with a standing shower and a standalone tub to one side. The shower was decorated with beige travertine and had a large wonderful rain shower head. The tub was white and was set in grey marble to match the floor. It was one of those reclining tubs that were perfect for long soaks. The bathroom was built for two with double vanities. Marble was once again used on the counter top and had bowl sinks sitting under plain mirrors. The realtor told me the mirrors were heated and I would not have to worry about them fogging up. Nothing worse than foggy mirrors after a long hot shower.

I used the temperature controls on the bathtub and then added some lavender. A long soothing soak would help prepare me to get good nights sleep. No more hallucinations for me. The bathroom was shiny and looked so new I was not sure it had ever been used. Whoever designed the bathroom did a wonderful job. It was a dream bathroom.

There was a terry cloth robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom. I wrapped myself in that before heading to bed. I was so tired I climbed into bed with the robe still on and quickly drifted to sleep. I was hoping since I was so tired I would not dream that night. The fire lady and the wolf were present as always, but this time the man, the one who made an appearance very rarely was there. When I woke up the next morning his words were ringing in my ears.

“We are coming for you  princess.”