I'll Cast a Spell Over You

There was a dread that enveloped the town on the winter of 1986. What was annualy an illuminated, loud, and bustling town square during the weekends of December dwindled down to a few stalls you could count with your digits. There were no Christmas dances, bazaars, carolling, or major ceremonies scheduled which made the days and the weeks blur into one another until everybody realized they were on the week of Christmas itself. The town became busy again as it rushed to light up the grand tree, call for sponsors for the Christmas Eve mass, buy each other gifts, order food, and excessively perform that holiday cheer that was naturally in the air a year ago. It all seemed so loud suddenly, but it was not without anxiety.

Samantha huddled up next to Pauline and her children as they waited for the 20 ft. Christmas tree to shine on the 20th of December. It was better late than never, the hosts said clearly exasperated from the last minute planning and gathering. Everybody in the plaza averted their eyes from each other as they pretended the unpleasantness never happened. It was a thing of the past, why should it taint the last of the holiday magic? But as everybody directed their eyes to the gigantic Christmas tree, a child burst into tears, scared something awfully bloody would be hanging from the star. She sobbed loud enough that it broke enough people to look away, sob, or snap at the child's parents. Lewis immediately reached for Sam's hand remembering what had earlier that year.

"I'm so sorry Sam." Pauline wrapped her shawl around her shoulders tightly as she held herself together.

"It's alright. There's nothing to be sorry about." Sam masked well how disappointed she has been for the past 2 months since. Even if the world returned to normal for the few weeks after the murders, the same peace hasn't quite settled in yet. Still, she held on hoping that the moment comes where she wouldn't have to think about it. So caught up in her disappointment did she not realize the tree had already lit up.

Sam understood in that moment that relief will never return to her.

While the world did continue to spin and the sky remained blue, a day never passed without her worrying until she bled. Her mind worked overtime to watch her words, pace her gestures, watch her expression, just so nothing wrong would slip out. It became exhausting enough that she felt heavier and weaker at the end of each day but restless when she went to bed.

It was all the same chit chat at the shop as well. Sam anticipated all the pity parties that would be thrown for her on the first few weeks after the incident. She would put on a measured frown or half lidded eyes that obscured her gaze. She'd play with her thumbs or linger packing their purchases, and just quietly thank them with a smile. It felt nice at first to feel absolved from sin, then it was annoyingly dramatic, until it was boring. Still, she choked her exhale when a neighbor came to say their graces, because she was the town's patron saint. The act had gotten old but she still slipped a prayer of thanks to her dead best friend if the customer was hracious enough to spare her dramatics with a gift or money. She was not a charity, she said, but it does help since business has been slow.

Their generocity and pity cemented the feeling's everlasting efficacy. Sam spent Christmas alone that year listening to dance music trying to bury the dread. Her rituals were interrupted by doorbells and calls from all over town inviting her to eat with their families or with a casserole of pasta. Although she appreciated having 5 cake flavors to sample that night, the excessiveness made her nostalgic for the Albrights. She buries that fondness for the simple dinner and dessert, her yearly rewatch of It's A Wonderful Life with Lola, and the security the mice gave to her routine no matter the season.

Even though she was glad she had killed her best friend, she feels a pang of shame for ruining that familiarity.

That safety would never return, she thought to herself as she held her chest down trying to calm a panic. Trying to reassure herself only twisted the knife further. She shut her eyes praying she could just pass out swiftly.

Yet she continues to pray as she kills. The numbers slowly but surely stack up again. It was a short, but needed relief from her spiraling. Five since her birthday, Twelve after Thanksgiving, Sixteen on the 2nd week of Advent, and Twenty Two before New Year's. She had read cats would be sacrificed during a drought to bring upon rain.

So a flood reached her a year later.

There's a girl she keeps bumping into around town, and although they've only met professionally, it could make one wonder if somebody was pulling the strings. Sam kept the idea at bay even if it made her laugh. Still, she'd find her in the grocery, at second hand stores, waiting at the bus stop, or just passing by her shop. After such a stiff first impression, Sam felt like she owed the girl a friendlier introduction. She doesn't push through but it stays at the back of her head for when the world forces their bodies close to one another.

"Do they do this every weekend?" The girl wonders out loud reading the public bulletin board in front of the city hall. Sam hears her as she walks out of the building and steadily positions herself next to the cat pretending to scan the fliers and the memos.

"Do what every weekend?" After a bit of guessing, the two were looking at the same poster.

"This?" They simultaneously pointed at an advertisement for a weekend food market happening at the park. It promised baked treats, drinks, home cooked meals, and 2nd hand goods. The cat's face visibly warmed up recognizing the hardware storekeep was looking at her.

"Yes, but they've been a bit slow lately. But people still show up. Did you know a new family of bakers just moved in and they had ready made pizzas for sale earlier in the day?"

The cat politely smiled at her and nodded. She toyed with a plush charm on her bag to shake off nerves.

"Julianne, right?"

"How did you know my name?"

"I gussied up your apartment last August, remember? It's a small world."

A weight was lifted from both of their chests and the cat eased in, not too close, to continue a conversation.

"I guess it is. I only moved here recently and there's still so much to discover around here. And there's a weekend market!"

"And there's a weekend market!" Sam tries to imitate her innocent excitement.

"Have you been there before? Which park is it? What other things can you find there? I'm sorry for asking so much but..."

"Are you asking me to be your chaperone?" Sam teases her, taking another step to almost close that gap. It's awkward and embarrassing but there's something painfully new that can come out of this.

Something exciting.

"No, I'm...well I'm just asking but you shouldn't if you don't want to!" Julianne doesn't read the playfulness and instead steps back. She instantly becomes apologetic but not without another attempt.

Her hand in her hand.

Like a desperate attempt to catch fresh air.

"Can't I help out a new friend get to know Woodbrook better?"

And it works.

"Are you sure you want to accompany me? I can do it myself now that I know that!" Julianne laughs.

"I don't have much to do anyway. I can just open the shop late, you know?"

When the cat smiled back and walked away, the world began to compress and glow. The pools of sunshine peeking from the trees seemed to saturate the colors of the store fronts, plants, pavements, and flags. Summer was coming, it could just be the light, but she forgot that dread that was killing her for months, and a new face that didn't pity her seemed to amuse her.

A new toy to play with.

Then the days became slower. The panic would blur afternoons and evenings, but the promise of a different weekend excited her like a planned hunting day before its revisions. Some days before the unpleasantness, she would spontaneously drive to the city to peek, but now she needed to pencil book these things. Having something confirmed so quickly irritated her because of her uncharacteristic impulsiveness but so deliciously busy. She looked at the dates and the time to keep herself occupied so they could pass quicker. It hadn't occured to her again that Woodbrook moved slowly.

And surely, Saturday came.

She was still unsure why she came that morning or why she even cared so much to make up for such a cold impression. All she knew is that her reaction made her curious enough to play along for a while. It helped that her curiosity opened her senses once more: the aroma of freshly baked goods made her even more impatient, the wind didn't pick up as strongly as it used to days before, the colors of the town were highlighted by the morning sunshine. Change. Pleasant change.

"Hey Sam!" Julianne sat next to her, not too close, but breaching the gap by placing her hand between their laps.

"There you are." Sam laughed, "Oh, why are you dressed up like a picnic mat?"

Julianne looked up and down her outfit and blushed. She was wearing a puffy-sleeved top with a red and white checker pattern. Julianne pouted.

"No I'm not. How long have you been waiting here?"

"About 15 minutes or so. Where do you live?"

Julianne pointed down the avenue and tilted her head.

"Other end of town. It's quite a walk!" Julianne answered, "It's been Years since I rode a bike and I prefer to walk amyway. It's fun, there are a lot of unique shops and bakeries on the way here, it was hard not to windowshop! Also, there are new little periwinkle colored flowers growing around the street. Have you noticed those?"

"No, I haven't. Is that so?" Sam was genuinely surprised by the girl's enthusiasm for the mundane. The same coffee shop, costume atelier, stationery stores, and 2nd hand bookstores she passes by everyday suddenly sounded magical through her.

Rose tinted glasses, it seems.

"Yeah, haha, I think I'd be here in...10 minutes if I didn't browse the 2nd hand store I saw."

"Don't keep me hanging next time, okay?" Sam accidentally closes the gap by placing her hand over Julianne's.

"Okay...I'm sorry..."

"C'mon. I'm not mad. Let's go."

Julianne followed behind the bear but found it difficult to concentrate as her mind and eyes wandered around the park. The bright red and green tents lining the pathways were decorated with fairy lights, hanging plants, paper lamps and cut-outs. Every so often someone would reach a sample of sourdough or cheese to her. There was music from the local radio playing from the few speakers set around the four corners of the plot of land. Sam looked behind her and noticed Julianne had stopped at a stall selling cold cream puffs.

"Isn't it a bit early for dessert?"

"Hmm...I guess but every other bread stall I pass has pastries you can consider a dessert." Julianne pointed at the strawberry cream filled display, "Honestly, I came here because you mentioned there's that family that bakes fruit and cream pies."

Sam couldn't get herself to argue back at her guest. It was like rationalizing with a child about desserts before dinner, but even she would indulge in something similar this early. She thought about how common these kinds of delightful pastries with fruit or cream are around town and how common would it be outside Woodbrook.

She let her buy a cold treat first. Not like she could stop her, and she even treated her to a cookie dough flavored puff.

"Stay in front of me now. Let's walk to that family bakery booth, okay?"

The booth was at the other end of the park. It occupied two tents as the family of lemurs brought two glass display cases of sweet treats, a rack for their ready-made breads, and tables for their freshly baked croissants and pizzas. The aroma of tomato sauce gave the two some direction, but Julianne indulged in almost every booth they passed.

"What kind of rice is this?"

"Where does the salmon come from?"

"How much is this herb butter?"

"Hey, look at how cute their weaved goods are."

It would be impossible not to be impatient with the cat woman but Sam continued to indulge. She tried the squid ink paella. They stopped to sample some tinned salmon (she got a few for herself), ate some toast with spicy butter, and looked at a booth with crocheted trinkets. Julianne spent minutes asking everyone how things were made or how much stuff was. She was obviously a newbie to the festivities, accompanied by a familiar favorite. Everything was fresh and new to Julianne, and then everything became clearer again for Sam.

"Can't decide what to get yet?" Sam kneeled next to Julianne who crouched down to look at everything inside the glass case. There were donuts, stuffed croissants, eclairs, more cream puffs, and pies. Julianne was happily overwhelmed with choice, just turning to her and giving an excited nod.

"I get the cherry pie and lemon bars. Then I buy sourdough. You seem to like strawberries."

"I do but everything looks so good!" Julianne smushed her face against the glass before standing up and finally deciding on the strawberry and custard croissant and a strawberry filled donut. The excitement she exuded placed a smile on everyone's face. That was just the delight of a newcomer. Everything was fresh and beautiful.

Sam thought about it again: how bright the world has gotten again, how excited she was for the weekend to come, how curious she seemed again for the same things she would pass by everyday. It was eerily beautiful and comforting when everything else has felt monotone and unsafe. She couldn't have snapped out of that paranoia just yet.

This security was familiar but unwelcomed.

The grass was still green regardless of how her mind would desaturate it with worry. Aged salmon in hot oil tasted good on sourdough. It was balanced out by tooth-rotting cookie dough cream with every other bite. Sam observed Julianne stuffing her face with sweet pastries. She wondered if she was feeling envy or something else.

"You're gonna get a sore throat with all those." Sam smiled, handing her a cold water bottle.

"Yeah? I usually don't get to have these goodies like...at all. I love them though!" Julianne exclaimed with her mouth half full of donut.

"Really? Have the previous towns you've stayed in not have fairs like this?"

"Not at all." She grabs a paper towel and wipes the sides of her mouth, "If I wanted fun bread like this I'd pay a pretty penny. If I wanted to attend fairs like this, I had to drive. I dunno how to drive, Sam."

"So this really is your first time doing this, right?" She opens up another tin of salmon to eat right out of.

"First time? No, I've done picnics before."

Sam carefully selects pieces of fish and cheese to spread on her last piece of sourdough. She places it on a paper towel and scoots it towards Julianne's box of bread.

"Have something savory at least."

They didn't linger for any longer after the meal. Sam runs back to the lemur family to buy a croissant for her student-assistant for the day then waves Julianne goodbye for the morning. Sam feels a rush to get back to the shop before 11, but her feet drag as she stands on the little hill watching Julianne disappear into the distance. The wind picks up. The little periwinkle flowers sway. The radio changes DJ sets. Some booths begin to pack up.

The world becomes worth noticing again.

All of that thought makes her tired.

At the end of the day, she stows away her tins of salmon and lays in bed.

She places her hand over her chest and remembers the day: the sounds, the scents, the sweet cream, and the humid wind.

She thinks of the cat woman and her heart races.