The Manifestation Witch

Abundance

— Tell me, what do you want the most?

I ask the man sitting in front of me. He sweats, and I see it reflected in his bald head. His hands shake as he loosens his tie.

Everyone, even the most bully, ends up in this state when it comes time to see themselves this way.

With a trembling voice and without looking me in the eyes, this man tells me — money, power, an empire.

—Ambitious, right? — I impregnate as much sarcasm as I can into those words. Every white man in his fifties wants the same thing.

—Do you know how this works? — Finally, He looks up and surveys the room with dim lights, dark walls, and elegant, minimalist, black furniture.

I put my hands on the table, sporting perfectly manicured burgundy nails, a Rolex on one wrist, and a ring more expensive than some vehicles on the other. Here, everything is high end.

I tap on the table to get his attention, and he looks into my eyes. I speak. — You must tell me the worst thing you have done in your life, the lowest you have fallen, and if the elevated wills confirm it is true, they will grant it to you through me.

—But how?

—That doesn't interest you, they will do it. — I say brusquely, and the man withdraws.

—Who are they?

My patience is running out. I stare, focusing all my attention on him. I move his chair violently towards the wall. You can see how his belly bounces on impact.

The poor guy screams, typical.

—Okay, okay.

I move my wrist, and again, he is near the table.

—So? Tell me about your lowest moment in your pathetic human life, and  do not make me repeat myself.

—I robbed my mother, who has Alzheimer's. — He says between sobs and tears.

—tell me more. — Now we are getting to where I want.

—No, Please! — He says without consolation, sniffling and throwing saliva on the table.

—Neither the elevated wills nor I am impressed.

He runs his hands over his face a thousand times and narrates: - She was getting worse and worse, and didn't know she lived in her own house, only looked into space. She no longer spent anything, only food and medical bills. My father left the entire fortune to her to manage and nothing to me.

—Why would it be?

He doesn't answer; once again, he only whines.

—I warn you, I'm tiring of this. — I rise from the chair and extend my wrist towards him. He's already trained, so he confesses.

—Because she was afraid that I would spend it gambling.

—Ah, we're sorting this out! A game addict.

With his head down, he finished his story. — While the nurse was feeding her, I went to her room, as I already knew she was not remembering well. Keeping a diary with all the passwords beneath her pillow, she inadvertently provided me with access to empty the account.

—But if you already have money, why are you here?

He takes an undeserved pause and whispers — I lost it in a horse race.

At this, I laugh aloud.

—John, is that your name? — with his remaining strength, he utters a response: — Jonathan.