NB: This is republished from my medium article to get around their pesky view limit - enjoy!
The widower came to me on the 24th of December. He had put up a tree, alone. Bought the turkey, alone. Wrapped the presents, alone.
He told me he couldn’t stand it anymore. He asked me if I knew the spell for a broken heart.
Fix it, he asked me, Or stop the wretched thing beating. I don’t care which.
Not many men enter my house willingly. Of course the rumours have circled me forever and a day. “Is she old and ugly?” the children whisper outside my gate. “I heard she will take the form of your truest desire.” Sadly, unless your truest desire is a slightly chubby 30 something with frizzy hair and buck teeth, it isn’t true. It is not to say I don’t have visitors at all. Whilst a lot of villagers stay away, those who are turned away, who don’t have the opportunity to be scared, those who really need me seek me out. Despite them and the curious frat boys, it remains a fairly solitary existence.
I looked into his sad eyes and didn’t know what to tell him. It was against my sacred oath to harm him (although he couldn’t know that). But I wasn’t experienced enough for the magic he needed. It was truly dangerous and whilst he seemed willing to risk it all, I couldn’t. The callous rivers of his hands told me something he did not know.
I couldn’t tell you why I lied to him. My magic was of the earth and could only heal physical wounds. But I knew I had to help him.
You must stay with me, I instructed. You will gather the herbs with me every morning and tend to my garden when I am gone. He didn’t not even blink at these instructions but quietly worked away instead.
He never questioned me except once.
I never told him I was an apprentice, but he must have known. He taught me all these tips and tricks for tending the herbs and brought new plants if he thought they might be useful. He tended to the garden out front and the children would wave to him. Villagers became less scared over time and he even helped me to erect a sign to improve business.
We didn’t talk about the deal, except once. It was summer now and in the midst of dinner, he asked me: How long? I don’t know what compelled me to say it but I told him. Christmas Eve, I uttered before swallowing. My appetite disappeared and I went to bed immediately after.
I slaved away after that. I had become too comfortable to his mere presence and had lost sight of the goal. I would be failing him as a witch so I read all the books I could find. Practiced in my shed alone night after night. I would be so exhausted but seeing the little cups of tea he left outside the door pushed me on.
The night before Christmas Eve, I dabbled in a spell I knew I shouldn’t have. It drained me before I could dare complete it, but I fell so terribly ill. The next thing I remember was him carrying me to my bed.
He soothed me as best as he could and tried to call for a doctor, but I forbade it. The doctor cannot see death like I have and he cannot help me, I wheezed. He dabbed the sweat off my ice cold skin. I gripped his hand tightly and whispered the herbs I needed. I guided him through the instructions as best as I could through coughs.
You must leave me now, I told him.
No, I cannot leave you like I left her.
So he held me instead. At that point, I didn’t know if the spell would work, but I eventually couldn’t help but fall into a deep sleep.
— —
When I awoke, he was gone.
I felt myself again, against all odds, and descended down the stairs. I knew I had to come clean to him. How could I have been so stupid? What could I have done for him? How could someone like me know anything about love in the first place?
As I descended the stairs, I gasped. There, in the corner was a beautifully illuminated Christmas tree, with delicately wrapped presents underneath. I felt my heart shatter as he walked into the room.
I don’t know the spell-
He took my hand and gently stroked it.
You don’t need to.
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