Demonic Spell (18+)

Recipe 17

*wow! i reached Recipe 17! and 1000+ reads thank you guys!

Oh by the way.. if you like a new werewolf story check out FALLING FOR A ROGUE! BY  @JuliaMellark

It is the will of God and Nature that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the soul is to enter into real life; 'tis rather an embryo state, a preparation for living; a man is not completely born until he be dead: Why then should we grieve that a new child is born among the immortals?

                                                ~Benjamin Franklin, 22 February 1756

Opening up the shiny black ebony door of the ranch mansion back in Oregon I was greeted by the deafening silence of the house, gone was Grandma’s constant bickering and Ana’s never-ending come backs.

It’s so quiet.

I clicked the lights on one by one as I slowly walk inside, flooding the lonely house with bright light.

Dispelling the darkness that reigned in the house in the past two months that I stayed in Scotland when Grandma died and Ana left.

Sighing softly to myself I slowly walked towards the kitchen, shuffling my feet as I go.

The terracotta figures that are lined and beautifully displayed in wooden cabinets in either side of the foyer seem to stare sadly as I pass by. Their assortment of crystal, marble and semi-precious stone eyes glint in the light, giving me the impression that they are either looking at me curiously or grieving for the death of grandma.

To strangers these little figures are spooky but to me they are the last remnants of my Grandma’s passion for mysticism and esoteric collectibles.

All are unique and beautiful in their own way, from the simplest clay figures with its glinting obsidian eyes to the more expensive porcelain ones that sports a variety of precious and semi-precious stones and to the priceless antique ones that are hand carved from organic materials like corals and ivory.

*************

It’s so quiet..

I opened the take-out I brought from the restaurant I passed by on my way back to the house. The smell of savory steak and fresh salad did nothing to increase my appetite as I sat all alone in the granite center counter of our fully equipped kitchen while picking up on my food.

It’s so quiet..

The large kitchen was bereft of any sound except the clanking of my utensils and I can see myself in the stainless cabinet on the kitchen sink looking like death itself.

My hair still up on a tight ponytail with wisp of it framing my face in a mess and I can see some of it sticking out of my head, and my travelling dress crumpled and dirty, there a chocolate stain on its cream hem, a remembrance of a rambunctious child who spilled it out on me on the plane.

I’m a mess.

That is why I hate riding public airplanes especially on economy seats but I need this for the cover-up I'm maintaining to protect my identity.

No one other than Uncle and Atty. Luke knew the death of my grandmother and eventhough they want to go here to support me, I declined their offer as I want to grieve and mourn the dead of my grandmother by myself.

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I'm on the act of throwing down my food on the garbage can when I heard a strange scratching noise coming just outside the kitchen window.