Page 31 of Spellbound

“You’ve always had the power, my dear.

You just had to learn it for yourself.”

~ Glinda , The Wizard of Oz

Asher

After that night, things happened pretty much like Ben had told me they would.

I haven’t been able to walk away from my magic after all, though I thought for a while I wanted to.

Like Ben figured, I was still being oppressed a little by the vestiges of Rosalyn’s old spell that had been on me for so long.

As it finally and gradually dissipated after her death, I began to feel much better, and a lot of my anxiety faded away.

I drove my grandmother back to Atlanta after Rosalyn’s funeral.

There was nothing for her in North Carolina, and her home and all her friends are in Georgia.

I’ve promised her I’ll keep in close touch and visit her as often as I can.

Ben followed us down in his truck, and we picked up a few things I’d put in storage at her house and went back home the next day.

It was a good thing that we did, because only a couple of weeks later, there was a fire “of unknown origin,” as the official report stated, and the house burned almost to the ground.

Some of the walls remained standing, but the interior was completely gutted.

The place was well insured, but it was still sad for her sons to lose their childhood home, and anything left of their mother.

They’d been grief stricken and angry when they found out what she had done to their father, but she was still their mother, after all, and they still have complicated feelings for her.

It’s a difficult and complicated situation, but there has been an autopsy, and the doctors told them her intellectual impairment was more advanced than they previously knew.

Ben was depressed and upset about the situation for days afterward too.

Luckily, he still had his home and mine to go back to.

Home —I call his home mine as well, because Ben encourages me to think of it that way for as long as I want to.

I’ve officially moved in, and we’ve even discussed marriage sometime in the not-too-distant future.

Is it fast? Sure, it is, but I figured my life has been on hold for far too long as it is. I’m ready to start living again.

I go to my Rehab and do my exercises like I’m supposed to, and I’m feeling a lot better physically.

I’ve worked a bit on my thesis, though to tell the truth, I’ve cooled on the whole idea of teaching, and I’m considering whether or not I even want to continue on and get my master’s degree.

I’d have to transfer, and I’m not sure that’s what I really want anymore.

I’m becoming more and more interested in learning about Craft, and I’ve been training to become a magistrate.

Ben told me that someday he wants to walk the whole length of the Appalachian trail, and that idea appeals to me too.

That won’t happen for a long while yet because of my leg, but I’m getting better all the time, and it isn’t an impossible dream, by any means.

We’ve already been on a few short hikes along sections of the A.T., the part that goes through North Carolina.

But we haven’t yet tackled any of the higher peaks that might put too much stress on my knee. I still have that to look forward to.

We’ve been having fun, because everything is fun with Ben, and the mountain vistas are lush and beautiful.

I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and I’m learning a lot about living in Appalachia, in the Blue Ridge.

One of the most important things I’d learned is that many of the wild stories about the creatures that live in those woods are just that—wild stories and nothing else.

Though if you ever find yourself outside late at night, looking up at the countless stars, and if the wind in the trees drops down and the cicadas go quiet, and the silence seems to stretch out to forever—you might give a thought to all the ones who have been there before you.

Their time is over now, because that’s how time works.

It always brings about change. And if someone whistles or calls your name from deep inside the trees, be careful—the ghosts are real.

There are countless broken souls who may still be hopelessly trying to reclaim their former lives and are hungry for even a sliver of yours.

Be careful. Just follow the advice of the people who live in these mountains and leave the ghosts alone.

Maybe you should even go back inside the house and lock all the doors. And don’t answer until morning—no matter who comes knocking.

The End