Witcheries in Paris

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Witcheries in Paris Page 2

by Leora C. Waldman

immediately in love with him, forgetting about her old love, heartache and sadness. She was so blessed. Which woman on Earth could say she had half of the princess' good luck?

  The princess experienced the evening celebrations like she would a dream. She felt so blissful, floating in happiness alongside her husband who kept drinking red wine from a huge gold goblet that his squire kept on filling up to the brim each time her husband gobbled it down, which is to say, every thirty seconds. Of course everybody was drunk by midnight, her husband included. He was so drunk that his page boy had a hard time dragging his master down to the royal chambers. Once in their chambers the king suddenly became sober. "I will show you something," he said to his young wife and grabbing her hand pulled her towards the hearth. He stepped on a tile on the ground and a door suddenly opened up on the inside wall of the hearth. "Come on," he encouraged her. "Now you're my wife. I want to show you something." She followed him obediently to a small room inside the hearth. The walls of the room were covered with shelves filled with books. There was a small, marble rectangular table in the middle of the room and many lit candles around it. There was a chalice on the table, an athame and a sword with a tortoise shell hilt. There was also a big book on the table, black leather-bound with its corners tipped in gold, the cover of which she wasn't able to see because the book was laying upside down on the table. But it looked old.

  "Oh," she said looking around confused. "But then you are...? This is an altar and this is the book of... So, it's true, you are...?"

  "Yes my love," he smiled. "Of course, I am. I am The One. And our union will be so blessed, because you're the other One too."

  "You're a magician," she said, her voice suddenly sounding cheerful.

  "Well, yes, but..."

  "Oh, I am so happy," she cried happily. "I want to confess you something. I come from an ancient lineage of powerful wizards too. My family...we are all protectors of the goodness... Oh, I am so happy. "The princess was so overwhelmed by joy she didn't notice the wrinkles of confusion and scornfulness that formed on her husband's forehead.

  "Can I please see your Book," She asked reaching out for the old book on the table, but her husband was faster than she was. He grabbed it first and smiling said to his bride, "Under these circumstances I don't think it is a good idea. Not yet. We'll have time to talk about our magic and lineages. You're mine now and nothing can change this. Come!" with his free hand he pulled her outside the room and once they were out the door closed behind them with a hushed roar. He dragged her to the middle of the room, but there he stumbled, all of the wine he had drunken before came rushing back to his head. He wobbled, lost his balance, and fell on the bed crushing the book under his weight. He was immediately asleep. Princess Yona went toward him and tried to pull the book from underneath him. She wanted to look at it. She felt so curious. It was as if something was pulling her towards the black book. Her father had one similar. She had a smaller one too. Everybody who was deeply involved with magic was supposed to have a book like that, a magician's diary. She tugged at the book carefully for fear he might awake, but he was too drunk to be so sensitive. She finally managed to pull the book from under him and eagerly flipped it over to see its cover. She screamed horrified. The book fell from her hands. She looked at her husband and her horror multiplied. Under his red curls she spotted two golden horns that had started to grow. He was apparently too drunk or too sleepy or too sure of himself to hide them.

  As fear had her paralyzed, old memories invaded her mind. She recalled her training as a young princess. She had been warned of the prophecy. She had been explained what would happen if the prophecy ever fulfilled. She couldn't let this happen, even if that meant for her to take her own life.

  She had never believed in the prophecy, she had thought it to be a mere superstition, a tale to scare royal children and teach them obedience. She had always believed that a person is responsible for making their own destiny. She was a modern girl, after all, living in modern times. But now, after seeing the horns protruding beyond her husband's red curls and looking straight at the black magic book, she felt the danger as so present and so real that she could no longer consider the ancient story as merely a fairly tale. The prophecy was not only real, it was about to be fulfilled if she didn't act quickly. There was only one thing to do – she had to run away and fast. She snuck out of the castle and through the city to its outer gates. Strangely enough, nobody stopped her; all the servants were either snoring on both tables and chairs or passed out flat on the floor. Meanwhile, all the palace guards were sleeping soundly at their posts as if some kind of magic mist had penetrated their nostrils, dimming their brains.

  She walked for miles until her shoes tore apart and the soles of her feet started to bleed. She finally stopped to rest upon arriving at a small river by a forest. Although exhausted, in pain, and feeling betrayed, she did not cry; she didn't even feel afraid anymore. She looked at her hand where her mother's ruby ring shone with a bright flare. She pulled the ring from her finger and threw it into the river.

  "That's it." She shouted to the ring which by that time had disappeared inside the turbid waters of the river living behind ruffled circles of water. "I don't want anything to do with your curse anymore. I am done with ancient prophecies. I am free!"

  After that, she was on the road again. There was no time to lose; her father and brothers would have to take care of the king. They would have to eradicate the last surviving Atlantean from the face of Earth once and for all. Suddenly it dawned on her: in the haste of the moment she had forgotten to take the Book.

  Nirupa

  My mom is crazy. She wants me to be home for Christmas. I'm like, are you kidding me, Mom? Who wants to be home in a wracked, old, medieval castle, full of gossamer, daddy longlegs, scorpions, cockroaches? Who do you think I am, Casper, the friendly ghost? I'd rather be on my own, spending my time wandering around Paris, with Luc.

  "Luc how much do you like me?"

  "I like you, ma pucette, more then a rainy afternoon in spring."

  "Huh? Does it mean you love me?!"

  "I'm falling for you more and more everyday. I can't stop thinking of you. I want to burry my face in your gorgeous cheveux roug, smell the sweet perfume of your soft skin, and wake up to the sight of your green eyes staring at mine, every morning."

  Luc is a poet, don't you think? I mean, who can beat that? I am so much in love with Luc that I could even marry him right here, right now. All Luc needs to do, is ask me. And I have a very well-founded hunch that he'll do it on the night of Christmas Eve after his family's dinner party. Did I mention that he has invited me to his parent's place? Well, he has, that's why I say that this hunch is very well-founded.

  I need something gorgeous to wear. Panic attack! I don't have anything decent. I need to buy a dress. Now! I need to call Natty.

  "Hey Natty, it's me. I invite you for a petit cafe at The Cool. Whatddayasay?

  I hear Natty yawning lazily. "What do you need from me, Ni?"

  "Well, maybe after the coffee you could accompany me to La rue du Commerce. I need to buy a dress."

  "It's five thirty five in the morning. You woke me up." Natty complains.

  "Okay, I'll let you sleep for one more hour and then we go. I'll call again in..." I check my cell, "45 minutes? Give you some time to get ready?"

  "No!" Natty says peremptorily. "It's Wednesday. We have school today, remember?"

  "Pff, school yeah, all right. We can take today off. It's no biggy; everybody does it in France from time to time. I promise you, playing hooky is allowed in Paris. And ours is not even a real school; it's a French Language school"

  "I can't." Natty says. "Please Ni, don't insist."

  "I'll get for you that Louis purse you like so much. You know, as a Christmas gift."

  Silence on the other side. I can almost see Natty biting her fingernails in distress.

  "Natty?"

  "Oh, Ni, I..."

  By now I know I
have Natty on the hook. That's the advantage you get from being extremely rich. Thank you, Dad, for making me your heir. Thank you for thinking about the financial security of your little girl. Not even Mom has a saying on matters of my wealth. By the time Dad passed away he had already procured a fat, current account in my name, making it a certain matter that I would never find myself in any sort of money troubles till the day I reached the right age to inherit everything – even that creepy castle.

  "Fine, I'll go with you." Natty says. "But first we'll have to stop by the Louis Vuitton store and pick up my purse." Typical of the low-middle class. They are always so diffident. But, I don't even think of holding any judgments against Natty right now. She's the best friend I have here. I need her, too.

  Natty is all ecstatic because of the pretty purse. She keeps on shooting thank yous, and you're the best, Ni. I bear with her, and generously tolerate her embarrassingly uncouth display of gratitude. Little does she know that by now she is indebted to me for the rest of the school year.

  We're now on the Rue du Commerce. Here's my favorite store, Le Champignon. As the good minion she is, Natty browses for me through the fineries, and helps me pick the best dress for the party. I purchase a Red Valentino which is simply fab. A cobalt blue dress with a series of plaids on the

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