In life and death // 5 (4)
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The tea was cold already. I hadn´t taken more than one sip, I guess. I´d dived into my thoughts. How could I protect her? The wind was banging demandingly against the door. I saw the storm clouds racing in the sky.
„But why did they come over?“ I heard myself asking. I hadn´t planned to open my mouth, it´d just happened. My eyes were distantly looking into the darkness but I was still wanting for an answer. Silence.
„Grandma?“ Nothing. I forced myself to come back to reality. „Grandma? Are you still here?“ The armchair was empty. I ran in the kitchen. Still nothing. I saw a tiny light blinking in her bedroom. Really faint and dim but still. „You here?“ I whispered quietly thinking she might´ve fallen asleep. I tiptoed to the door and gave it a small peek through the keyhole. She was #!?!#ing on her bed, growling of pain. She´d cut open her wide black pants and she was looking at her leg. I felt I couldn´t breathe.
A small scratch, she´d said. It was awful. Her leg was torn up in a way I´d never seen before. It seemed like there was a hole in the middle of everything. The white linen sheets were bright red of blood that was slowly also dropping on the sheepskin rug. She was pressing the filipendula blossoms on the wound and muttering something. I was sure it was not meant for my ears. It had to be one of the three.
Every person has three individual spells he or she could cast during a lifetime. In the Earth you were allowed to do simple charms that were written down in the Book of History. You were allowed to put up a magical airfield, a shield, to protect yourself from the coyotes. You were allowed to make light in the darkest of situations (what ever that was supposed to mean) and you were allowed to have three spells for your own gain.
It was bad. The wound. I wanted to help. Really bad. But I was new at this. I only had the secret of water and I couldn´t simply heal something this massive using water.
She fidgeted and quickly covered her leg with a colourful cushion when she heard me calling on her.
„Yes, sweetie. Is everything alright?“
„No. No it isn´t. You aren´t.“
„I don´t know what you´re talking about.“ She reached out for a book. „Just came here to read.“ She made a gesture indicating she was done talking. Grams opened the book and tried to put as sincere-looking „oh-what-a-fascinating-book“ face on. But behind that mask I could see the pain fixed in her pale eyes.
If this was what she wanted, so be. I left the room and gently closed the door. The wood was burning in the fireplace lighting up our living room and giving out warmth. It felt safe here. It always has. It was raining outside. I remembered what she said at the Curing Centre. The mushrooms. Must be lots of them in the woods now. I just lied on the floor and felt sleepiness taking over my body and carrying me away from my problems into a land full of hope and joy.
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