Love Charms, page 2

Yes, I was having a good day. My little experiment began with a sacrifice -- I'd be skipping my one:o'clocker, so I could have the apartment to myself. My room mate would be gone til three. Time enough to devote myself to my plans. The trickiest part, I found, was rousting up all the herbs which the directions called for: Venus-governed herbs, as they were called. I hadn't been able to find them all, but hopefully what I had would work. In reading the list of ingredients in the grimoire I figured I'd have to be some kind of Dr Frankenstein-in-training digging up people's gardens by moonlight. I had been surprised to find much of what I needed at the health food store in town. I dumped my books on the couch and carefully began pulling the disparate plastic bags from my jacket pockets. I went into my bedroom and pulled down one of the pillow cases -- the yellow one -- from the top shelf of my closet. I guess I'd be sleeping with one pillow now; another sacrifice. I grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen as I returned to the couch. I opened all the packets and began to spread the leaves and furze and herbs out on the table, off to the side. I folded the pillow case over, smoothed the fabric, and began to cut. It was a humanoid figure, crude, cartoonish, like a gingerbread man. When I was done I had eight cloth figures. I went back to my bedroom and pulled out my sewing kit. My mom had once tried to show me to sew and had insisted I bring this kit with me to college. I put my rudimentary knowledge to work. My sewing was crude but effective, making three doll-like shells. I was on the edge of the couch, knees nervously pistoning, my tongue inevitably jutting from my lips as I concentrated on my handiwork, the books at my side slowly sliding into the crack between the couch cushions.

I slid off the couch, onto my knees in front of the table. It had been Bob's, a giant varnished hunk of tree trunk. I moved the grouping of herbs back to the center of the table, and as instructed drew a circle around the pile with my fingertip. I closed my eyes and concentrated. There had been no mention of making these poppets at night or at some witching hour but it did seem better to have the drapes closed and the room dark. I felt no need to incant out loud; I merely repeated the petition in my head, as I filled up two of the cloth figures with the herbs. Once stuffed, I sewed up the tops of their heads. This was a bit awkward, but I managed. I set these aside and went to the bathroom for cotton balls; I used these to stuff the third and final figure.

When this was done I took a red magic marker and began labeling my poppets. I turned the poppet to what was supposed to be its back and printed carefully "JOE". "JAIME" was printed on the second. And for the cotton-filled figure: "CRAIG". The instructions called for the personalization of the poppets. It suggested the inclusion of sexual organs but I balked at that. It seemed a bit crude; and, in practice, a bit suspect. We still had food dye from St Patrick's Day, as well as for Easter, so I hit upon the idea of giving JAIME long blonde hair. For CRAIG, I thought ruefully, I could color in his precious varsity jacket. The food dye was certainly sloppy, so I wound up mainly using magic marker after all. Following this bit of artwork I'd have to go off to the campus bookstore, or maybe some fabric store, and buy a length of red ribbon, remembering to measure it out to a multiple of seven. Tomorrow being a Friday and consecrated to Freya the Norse goddess of love, the ritual could be performed. Then, I'd have to wait for the full moon -- which happened to be the Sunday following; Palm Sunday, in fact -- to see if this plan had worked. If not, as I'd read, I'd have to repeat the rite every Friday til something happened. Something had better happen, I thought bitterly. I looked at the poppets lying rigid on the table. I couldn't shake the feeling I was doing something I shouldn't, that I was overstepping my bounds. During the Witchcraft class last week this had seemed like the perfect idea. I had taken notes like a madman. It had seemed so right then that it couldn't be wrong now. I felt a chill crawl up my spine. It could've been guilt or shame, but it felt more like excitement. The poppets were made. The stage was set. Things were within my command. A future I could control lay before me. Scary or no, such a thought thrilled me.

I couldn't wait for tomorrow. I would do it tonight, right after midnight! I would stay up, watch Letterman, wait til Bob went to his room, and pull the poppets from -- behind the stereo! Yeah, that would be a good place. And slowly I'd take JAIME and JOE, one in each hand, and, in the light of the moon, bring each closer and closer to the other until they touched and met. I would join them, hold them together, bind them in the scarlet ribbon. Then I would place them in a safe, secret, dark place; and then wait. Wait for it to happen. I was so obsessed in anticipation that when the time came at last to perform the rite I found it quite unsatisfying. It felt hollow. I don't know what I expected, a thunderclap, a demonic chorus, a chime; but all I felt was a slight embarrassment to be so secretively playing with dolls.

Demons and fiends awaited me in my sleep however. I spent a horrid restless night pursued by armies of darkness who showed me through signs and visions that I had generally screwed things up bad. I felt more tired now upon waking than before going to bed, and I gave serious consideration to blowing the day off and staying in bed. I hadn't made up my mind yet by the time my alarm went off. It was seven:o'clock. It was time to take my shower and begin Friday, the day of Venus. This reminded me of what I'd begun last night. It was hard to get excited over it though since my witchcraft class with Jaime wouldn't be til twelve. There were more pressing matters: a shower, breakfast, and a history class where maybe the prof would let us out early.

Fat chance. The lecture had been so long and boring I could imagine dynasties rising and falling within the space of it. The Inquisition could hardly have devised a more ghastly torture than trying to stay awake during an hour of this. It was so tempting to just lean back against the wall and sleep, but I knew I couldn't. I shook myself, tapped my feet, and even began to gently bounce my head against the cinderblock. As the clock made it slow crawl around to eight:fifty I began to taste some of the eagerness I knew would be with me all weekend. At twelve I would find out if the magic worked, if all the books were true, if it was really meant to be. That, dare I say it, Jaime would be mine.

Of course I had to remind myself that I couldn't expect an answer so soon. The full moon hadn't arrived to fulfill its part of the bargain. But it was close. The moon sure looked full enough to have some effect. I should be able to tell something, shouldn't I? I skipped gym class, which was a waste of time anyway, and went back to the apartment for a midmorning nap. Now instead of being weary I was irritably groggy. I hung around the place to watch The $25,000 Pyramid followed by Press Your Luck. I couldn't help noticing the little animated Whammies plaguing the contestants of the latter show bore a striking resemblance to the demons of last night's dreams. They seemed just as ruthless too; moreso than usual. Next up was The Price is Right and a sandwich or two for lunch. Halfway through, however, I had to grab my notebooks, snag a pencil from Bob's Campbell soup can pencil holder, slip on my jacket, and head off across the street to campus, on the way to my witchcraft class.