Day 106: Spellbinding — The Shark Agenda

Write a magic spell.

"Trap the darkness that has taken root,
yank out what lies below, the rotting fruit.

Restore light where there was once none,
fortify the blood, the skin, the body to come together as one."

There were dozens of tall, dark purple candles lining the circle around me and my mother. The circle was made up of my sister, my grandmother, aunts and cousins; a circle of powerful women, whose strength I needed to draw from to get this cancer out of my mother.

"Seek and soothe, settle and subdue,
we call upon the matriarchs who hold dominion over you.

Awaken and rise, revive and animate,
purge this poison, the body will no longer bear the weight."

I glance over at my sister, Emilia, whose eyes were bulging out of her head. She was concentrating so hard on our mother, she was going to pop a blood vessel.

Relax, I mouthed to her. She blinked a couple times and nodded.

We repeated the spell over and over again until my mom gasped and writhed in silent agony. I raised my voice louder. Suddenly, the room stilled.

I opened my eyes. Time had stopped. Dammit, I keep doing that by accident. I was about to resume time again when I saw black ooze-like material leaking out of my mother's pores.

"Ahh, gross!" I scooted backwards until I slammed into my aunt Marisol's knees, nearly knocking her over. I stared in awe at the viscous cancer sliding out of my mother. I remembered I needed to contain it or it would just find another host.

I crawled over to the cabinet and grabbed a large vial. I turned to look at the black cancer floating aimlessly above my mother and whispered, "Inside." For some reason it listened and slid into the container. Once it was all the way in, I sealed it tight with hot wax like the Grimoire told me.

"Phew," I sighed and sat back. "Oh yeah." I unfroze the room and everyone looked at me confused.

"It's out, mom." I lifted the vial to show her.

“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”