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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2170468
by Paul
Rated: E · Short Story · Romance/Love · #2170468
Being catholic causes problems if you’re in love with a witch.
God Created Witches Too



I loved her, but me being Catholic caused problems for us.

“No, Lyndsey! We’ve been together eight months and we are NOT good for one another. You’re a witch and do all that mumbo-jumbo with blood, guts and other disgusting things. Your activities doubled the first of the month and it‘s been getting worse each day, now Goofy Ghosts night is in two weeks. I do NOT believe! I can’t STAND it anymore!”

“I love you Ian, and you love me. You’ll never let me go. Call me when you realize that,” and the door closed without a sound. Looking at stuff she’d left I thought . . tomorrow . . throw away? . . miss her . .

“No!”

Riding my bike in the hills a week later the first streaks of morning sunlight turned the clouds and surrounding vegetation into a beautiful glowing, golden landscape for leprechauns to play in . . call Lyndsey share . .

“What? No! Why? I’ve got to stop thinking about her!”

Halloween came and went with no problems; well, a minor one. Ninety dollars’ worth of candy went to the monsters after their threatening demands at my door and some of the little beasts TP’d my house anyway.

After another week of constant, “I must call Lyndsey and share that,” I found tests on line to tell if someone had bewitched me; I passed, or failed, every one. According to them I was hooked and owned by a powerful entity. Three more weeks of “call Lyndsey“ and I folded.

“Hi, Ian.”

“I want you to stop whatever you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I can’t get you out of my mind. I want to call you twenty... fifty times a day.”

“Good. Call.”

“You’re doing something, admit it.”

“No, I’m not. Magic only works if You believe, remember?”

“But...”

“Gotta run, call me later if you think of it... again. Bye.”

“But...” ‘click’. Two weeks later I capitulated. I was going insane thinking about her then adamantly denying I felt anything before fervently telling myself to go to hell because YOU LOVE HER YOU DAMNED IDIOT.” Then doing it again and again...

I decided if God created everything, He created witches too so it must be okay for me to love one. A year later am I under her spell? Yes. Is love a spell? Yes.

Our daughter, Gladys, will arrive in three months. Lyndsey said, “She has my powers, but I’ll control her.” Right! It’ll be interesting to see what a baby does with that power.

Last week things started; random drawers and doors open, medicine cabinets shuffled, my underwear dumped on the floor. Lyndsey says she knows and she’s teaching Gladys to behave, “She’ll know better when she’s born.”

I love watching Gladys sleep and yesterday the wind up carousel over her crib ran down. When it finished rewinding itself, I backed slowly away and quietly left the room.

Control? Right!

. . I Put a spell on you because you’re mine . . Credence Clearwater’s song runs through my mind all the time now.
© Copyright 2018 Paul (lasardaddy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2170468