Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
That’s definitely something.
I just know that tonight was important. It couldn’t be clearer if somebody had written it in lipstick on my bathroom mirror. It’s time to cast my own spell.
And as if I knew it would be needed, there’s a candle sitting out on my countertop on a small black plate.
My heart ticks up. I’d been meaning to set intentions for the transition into winter, but for whatever reason, I didn’t get around to it. I left my box of matches out, too. The box of matches is nearly empty and it’s then that I smirk at the design on the two sides. One being the death tarot card and the other the lovers. How fitting.
Before snatching the candle, I reach under the sink cabinet and tear off a bit of paper from a brown bag.
“You’ll do,” I whisper.
Goosebumps brush down my shoulders as I stand straighter. My little apartment kitchen is alive with energy, like I’m standing in the center of a circle made up of coven members, all of them sending their energy into me.
It’s completely possible that they met here hundreds of years ago, and their intentions were so powerful and focused that I can still feel the echoes of them, even now. Perhaps they are my guides. I know not every detail of what lies on the other side, but at this moment I feel as if it’s meant to happen. The calm power is a bright white light that surrounds me.
I take the candle, matches, and paper back to my living room and bring my cushion over to my coffee table. The table is set up with a small stack of books, a chunk of clear quartz sitting proudly on top. And a little selenite bowl of small crystals. Quickly, I snag the rose quartz and slip it into my bra. Casting spells never looks as dramatic as it does in the movies, but my heart pounds anyway. The chill of the rock against my heated skin does nothing to calm the adrenaline racing through me.
I cross my legs on the cushion and close my eyes again. With my left hand over the crystal, my right still holds the candle, and I move it back and forth between my thumb and forefinger.
Casting spells is something I take seriously. The only thing more serious is casting a spell meant to directly influence another person. I avoid that whenever possible, because you can never fully control the impact of a spell on others. You don’t know their life’s purpose or the details of what they’ve been through. The spell can twist and turn in ways you never imagined, and the wrong spell could come back on you in a form you didn’t predict. I decided long ago that I would rather avoid spells for those who do not consent.
As I concentrate, though, the answer comes into my mind, clear as a bell.
Cast on Finley. It is him you crave, and the energy running through this town is far more dangerous than influence.
I ask myself whether this is true three times, leaving plenty of time for a feeling of dread or foreboding to come over me, and it never does. Perhaps I can word it in a way where it is to show me. Center myself.
Finally, I’m settled enough to reach for a pen on the shelf underneath the coffee table.
I write the truth of love could not be more obvious on the paper and roll it into a tiny scroll. If he desires me, I will know it without doubt. The highest of feelings he has for me are shown to me and only me. I do not wish to change his heart, only for me to know it.
That’s the heart of this spell. It’s not to force Finley to do something that’s wrong for him, or that he doesn’t want to do. It’s not to change him in any way. It’s to bring clarity to the tension between us and let us both see what’s possible before we go any further. Before I move from my apartment and buy a leather chaise. At that thought I snag the dark blue sodalite from the small bowl in front of me.
“For clarity,” I whisper and then gently place it beside the iron plate.
Then I light the candle and watch the flame burn into the dark for a few moments, breathing deep. I stare at the flame and whisper once more, “For the good of all and to the harm of none, let me clearly see the feelings he holds for me.” The air around me is practically vibrating. I wouldn’t be surprised if a spirit actually materialized—that’s how real the energy feels.
I believe in this spell. I believe in what I feel. It’s as real as the library or my apartment.