#big-notsobad-wolf

[elliethebeautiful-blog]

[stardustastrid]

Practical Magic

It's evening by the time Astrid finally returned to her hotel. Faust had gone off on an errand, but she expected he'd be back before long. She puttered about the room for a little while, tidying her belongings and sorting through some of the souvenirs she'd purchased. A book of Irish legends and lore, from a charming little out-of-the-way shop selling out-of-print texts, stared up from the pile as if begging to be read. Cup of tea in hand, she settled down to flip through the pages.

The old paper released a familiar and comforting scent as she skimmed the old stories of Cuchulainn and Tam Linn and Tir Nan Og. Some she'd read before, others were completely new, and each more charming than the last. And then, in the last place she expected to see it, an engraving seemed to leap off the page at her: the mouth of a cave, partially obscured by long strands of ivy, and within, a large stone, out of which rose the handle of a sword.

The caption read, "Claíomh de Chloch." The Sword of Stone.

"I don't ruddy believe it," she whispered, half to herself. A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie, echoed milliseconds later by the chiming of her mobile. Torn for a moment, she retrieved the phone first.

'Probably Faust,' she thought, bringing up the message as she went to answer the door. "Just a second!"

And then she stopped in her tracks.

A cold feeling crept up her spine. Involuntarily, her eyes went to the door. Another knock.

"...Faust?"

Silence. The room seemed to hold it's breath. Astrid's fingers clenched on the book of fairy tales, knuckles turning white.

Out in the hallway, there was the sound of something rustling. Then a soft set of taps against the door, almost like...

...oh god...

Fumbling past the numbness of disbelief, her mind finally produced the word.

Fingernails.

In the same instant, there was a horrible rasping shriek from the other side of the door, and a sound as if someone were gouging at the wood with a pitchfork. The book fell from Astrid's hand and she threw herself across the room to her suitcase. As she rummaged frantically, something hit the door like a battering ram. She froze for a second, but the frame was solid and did not give way.

Wracking her brains, she finally produced the four white candles and the compass she'd procured before leaving Dublin. Her athame (that had been hell to explain at customs), a sachet of lavender, and a jar of salt were next.

Steel, salt, fire, DONE.

As she stood in the center of the circle, Astrid mused to herself that she might've set a new world record. Quickly, she pulled the scrap of paper from her pocket on which she'd written the spell Monroe had found, and said a silent prayer of thanks to her patron deity for those Gaelic lessons at St. Brighid's. Lavender in her left hand, she began the chant.

"A bheith imithe bean salach A bheith imithe ó mo shaol I gcás nach bhfuil mé an ceann a lorg agat Do rinne Do olc aon chumhacht os mo."

There was a sibilant hiss from the hallway and the hag...she was sure of it...hit the door again. The wood cracked. Astrid stood her ground and repeated the chant twice more.

"A bheith imithe bean salach A bheith imithe ó mo shaol I gcás nach bhfuil mé an ceann a lorg agat Do rinne Do olc aon chumhacht os mo."

Just as she was finishing, the door gave way. The hall outside was blacker than pitch, save for the illumination of a single candle, the flame nearly colourless in the dark. The black wax dripped down a gnarled hand. A grotesquely wizened face leered at her as the hag crept across the doorway, seeming to bring the shadows crawling along with her.

However, by then, Astrid was well past the point of backing down.

'Don't get scared,' she reminded herself. 'Get ANGRY.'

"You want it in English, you old bitch? Try this on for size." Planting her bare feet and raising both hands, she recited the spell verse she'd adapted from the Gaelic.

"Filthy hag, begone from this place Begone from my life; I charge you, flee! The one you seek has not my face You have no power over me!"

The hag spat and snarled, but she could not cross the circle, nor could she resist the wind that suddenly raged through the room, blowing her back out the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Astrid could hear her shrieking as she was dragged away down the hall. The air stank of ozone. She lowered her arms, chanced a look at the scrap of paper.

"Wow. Good spell."

[elliethebeautiful-blog]

[ Dakota enjoys playing the fiddle. XD ]

[stardustastrid]

♥

Have I ever fallen in love. *long contemplative silence*

...Yes. Probably more often and more deeply than was really wise.

It's something I'm not sure I want to do again. Always seems to lead to heartache.

[stardustastrid]

[text 2] A bheith imithe bean salach/A bheith imithe ó mo shaol/I gcás nach bhfuil mé an ceann a lorg agat/Do rinne Do olc aon chumhacht os mo. You say it four time, arms raised up above your head. You should burn four candles, one facing north, another east, etc. Also, you should hold lavender in your left hand. I know it sounds sill, but that's what the book says. Good luck!

[text] Monroe, I'm a hearth witch. It doesn't sound silly in the slightest. I'm just glad I speak Gaelic.

[stardustastrid]

big-notsobad-wolf replied to your post: [text] Spent the morning at the library and finally found the book! Ok. Says here the number one way to get rid of this women is to have her eat a piece of her own fruit. BUT! I would prefer you not get close enough to her for that-too dangerous! So, there’s a spell that works well, too.

[text] Crazy thing is: The pages on the sword are ripped out. Someone didn’t want us to know about it. I’ll ask around-see if anyone knows anything.

[text] Criminy. I'm also looking up witch supply shops in Galway and Killarney. Jacob said something about Mellifers...? Know if any of those live around here?

[stardustastrid]

[text] Spent the morning at the library and finally found the book! Ok. Says here the number one way to get rid of this women is to have her eat a piece of her own fruit. BUT! I would prefer you not get close enough to her for that-too dangerous! So, there's a spell that works well, too.

[text] I have one of her apples and a slight plan as to how to get her to ingest it, if it comes down to a pinch, but a spell sounds better. Lay it on me, Wolfman.

Also, anything on that sword?

[stardustastrid]

Seriously. This player is utterly FLAWLESS. Fabulous writing and a boundless imagination. I'd swear I was actually talking to the real thing!