To Begin

A tea light sits on the tiled floor, flickering in its metal case. She walks by in a gauzy prairie skirt, and the flame sputters with the disturbance. She’s alone in the apartment, preparing. There are a few votives here and there, mostly for ambiance. It’s after midnight. She hears the neighbors carrying on and thinks about the house she was outbid on last month. She has a newly-penned spell and carefully-gathered equipment. It’s cloudy tonight, but there’s a full moon peeking through into her living room. She performs the ritual, and afterwards puts everything back in its place, hidden among the everyday objects. (Sometimes the landlord enters without her permission and she can’t risk him guessing these items’ purpose. He already thinks she’s weird. And exotic.) She lets the tealight and votives continue to burn and turns the hall light on, getting ready for bed. As she falls asleep, she wonders if the spell will work. She wakes up abruptly several hours later and is initially afraid to move. She gingerly turns on the light by her bed and starts, clutching her chest, as she sees a figure standing in the doorway. This has happened once before with another spell she did years ago, which scared her away from such intense activities. This time, her response is different. The figure stands, the height of a man, swaying just a little, seeming to be dazed. It’s the same one as before, when she performed that other one. Her heart beats rapidly but she’s not too scared to move this time. She gets out of bed and walks towards him, aware of her bare feet on the well-worn, synthetic carpet. His countenance is clearer now. He’s not disoriented at all. Smiling, he asks in her head: “Are you ready to begin?”