Once Upon a Daydream

Conjuring You

*Runner Up* 2000-word max flash fiction written for the Hello My Almost Dead Lover Contest

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My fingers glide across his skin.

From the stubble on his chin, trailing down to that delicious deep V.

I'm in ecstasy, falling deeper and deeper with each kiss, each moan.

I've needed this and I know it's been too long.

I know I'm with him.

...

But I wish it was you.

My eyes flutter open, focusing on the lazy particles of dust floating across the stream of light that snuck in through the crack in my bedroom curtains. Oh, the charms of an old Victorian home.

I hear the deep, cusp-of-snoring breathing of my overnight guest, his hot breath tickling my exposed back and neck. I sigh gently, then peel away the blankets and slide out of bed, pulling on my bathrobe and tiptoeing across the hall to wash my face and brush my teeth. I doubt he'd wake up if he heard the floorboards creak, but it's a fun force of habit to avoid them.

After my teeth are brushed, I softly jaunt up the steps to the attic, cluttered with piles of worn, leather-bound journals and two massive hutches, one with the cabinet doors open, the other, closed. The shelves are littered with jars of dried ingredients and hunks of uncut stones. No doubt, I inherited my pack-rat tendencies from a long line of women before me.

I flip open the first journal I see, knowing I've seen a transportation spell in there before. I absentmindedly thumb through pages until I see one in elegant, scrawling handwriting. It's one of Angela's spells - bingo.

I murmur the words under my breath to memorize them and step over to the open hutch to grab some ground onyx dust, scooping a handful into a velvet pouch. I secure the string on the pouch and head downstairs to my sleeping guest.

Hovering over his sleeping form, I take a slow, steady breath before murmuring the words of the spell. Once breathed into the air, I hold out my palm and sprinkle the onyx dust into my hand before blowing it over his body. He disappears as soon as the dust settles on his skin. He'll likely awake in his own bed this morning, thinking our tryst was just a dream. As it should be.

Satisfied, I leave my bedroom, descending the stairs to my kitchen and filling the tea kettle with hot water before setting it on the burner. I mull about, digging for my coffee mug and pour over until I hear my phone ringing in my bedroom. Wincing, I hold my palm out and murmur another spell before it materializes in my hand. "Hello?" I ask into the phone. But who am I kidding - I already know who would be calling today.

"Ali - how are you?" My sister's tone is dripping with sympathy and guilt. Here we go, again.

"Hello to you too, Angela..." I grumble, tapping my fingers onto the counter. "I'm fine, making coffee."

I hear her sigh of relief and roll my eyes. It's really too easy to fool her.

"Ali, I really am sorry," she professes on the other line. "I know this time of year is hard for you-"

"It's been three years," I cut her off briskly. "You did what you had to do." My response is robotic, rehearsed. It's about the same as when she delivered me the news that night.

The tea kettle starts to whistle, and I sway over to attend to it while she continues to plead to my unsympathetic ears. "That doesn't mean I enjoyed it. I mean it, Ali - I can have Robert take the kids trick-or-treating tonight and I can be there with you-"