Love Potion

"May I ask why you think my love potion will save your marriage?" the witch asked, walking behind the counter to face a wall of shelves with different color jars.

"Because I see no other way to get past what happened," Timothy said, looking down at the counter.

The witch bent down and dragged a stool across the floor. The screech of the wood lasted only a few moments, stopping it under the tallest section of the shelves. "And what happened my dear boy?"

"She...cheated on me."

The witch was unfazed by his admission and climbed up onto the stool with the grace of a cat. She scanned the shelves, touching each jar with her boney finger. Half of the jars had labels, while the unlabeled ones had different colored fluorescent liquids. Nonetheless, her finger pointed to each one down the row.

"I cannot undo what has already been done," the witch said, focusing on the jars.

"I'm not asking you to. I just need a fresh start. A new set of eyes. That way everything can go back to the way it was."

The witch grabbed a jar containing a pink liquid off the shelf and turned to him. "You think this will really do that for you? That you drink this and your wife will magically love you again?”

"At least I will love her again."

The witch climbed down the stool and placed the jar on the counter. She stared into his sullen face. The pain and desperation oozed from his entire being. The weary traveler was no foreign sight to her, but his eyes were. A dull blue, faded not from nature, but from his dying soul. 

"A love potion can't make a person love someone who they still love.”

"You don't understand. I don't love her."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't love her anymore. Your problem isn't your lack of love, it is your broken heart."

Timothy turned away, unable to make eye contact with her. 

"I don't make potions for a broken heart. Nothing of magical nature can cure that," the witch admitted.

"So there is no fix?"

"I never said that."

Timothy turned to face her. "Then what, if not a potion or a spell?"

"Forgiveness.”

"I'm supposed to forgive her? For what she did to me!" he said, stressing the last word.

"Yes. Forgive her betrayal. Only then will you find peace."

"I'm not looking for peace, I'm looking to restart my marriage. To show her I love her!”

"What better love than to forgive? Like I said earlier, you can't undo what has already been done. It is time to move on. Whether that is with her or without her is your choice, but forgiveness is always the right choice."

"How do I forgive her? I have been unable to even look at her without disgust."

"It starts in the heart and it takes time. A torn muscle isn't healed in a day and neither will this," the witch said, taking the potion off the countertop.

"That isn't an answer."

"What? You want a step by step guide? It doesn't work that way. It's up to you to heal yourself. I offered you the remedy. I can't make you take it.”

Timothy pondered her words. He wanted to forget his wife ever cheated on him. That they were both happily married and their children never witnessed their argument. It was the past, but it did not have to define the future. 

"Thank you, Ma'am for sharing your remedy. I will try it, but I have one last question?"

The witch sat down on the stool. "Alright?"

"If I am able to forgive her, will I forget what she did to me?"

"If you truly forgive her, the memory will be a constant reminder of your strength and love, not of your misery. I'm sure that will give you more comfort than a lost memory."

Timothy nodded and gave her a weak smile before he left the witch's store. The door squeaked and slapped shut against the frame, leaving the witch all alone.

The witch smiled to herself and spun the potion in her hand. "You did it again, Grechen. You lost another sale because you had to have a heart." The pink liquid inside the jar glowed bright and expanded to the top of the lid. "Worth it every time.”

Too Much Power

Matthew stood at the altar of his problems. Before him two women were torn to shreds, blood splattered everywhere in his hotel room. The carpet was crimson and the walls were like abstract paintings if they only used different shades of red. This was the consequence of making anyone he pointed to fall in love with him. At first it was fun. He could get any woman he wanted. A model. Actress. His crush from college. No one or thing was off limits, free to live out his own fantasies with whomever he chose. That was until his lovers all caught up with him.

He was out one night at a celebrity ball with a beautiful model he met at a hotel, when he ran into Hannah Soreno, a famous actress he was with only a few weeks ago.

“Matty, who is this?” Hannah asked.

“Oh hi, Hannah. This is–” Matthew said.

“Patricia. His girlfriend,” Patricia interrupted, extending her hand.

“Um Matty. Why are you with this skank?” Hannah asked Matthew.

“Who are you calling skank, you whore!” Patricia said.

“Matty. Come on. This woman can’t possibly be worth your time,” Hannah said, pulling him away from Patricia.

“Matthew can be with whoever he wants to.” Patricia pushed Hannah.

That was all it took and a brawl ensued. Extensions were flying in the air as the two wrestled on the floor. Matthew stood there unsure what to do while another woman in a silk black dress grabbed him by the arm, taking him away from the fight. She dragged him over to the food table and spun him toward her. It was his crush from college, Gretchen.

“Gretchen? What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from those crazy women. Obviously.”

“Well thanks. I appreciate it. I didn’t realize you were going to be here.”

“A little birdy told me you would be here,” she said, shaking her pink phone at him.

“I didn’t tweet it out.”

“No silly. I track your phone.”

“Um…”

“Let’s get out of here. I know a place much more...comfortable,” Grechen said, running her finger down his tie.

“Um…what about those two?” Matthew asked, pointing to the women still locked in combat.

“They will never love you like I can. Come on. I’ll show you,” she said, taking his hand again and whisking him away.

They left the ball and stopped at the top of the stairs of the exit. At the base of the stairs was a wall of women, all of whom Matthew had used his power on at some point. One of the women stepped forward into the light.

“Unhand our man!” Maddie said, pointing at Gretchen.

“He is not your man!” Gretchen said.

“We’ll see about that. Charge!” Maddie said, pointing at her.

The rest of the women ran up the stairs toward them. Gretchen pulled Matthew back into the party. They pushed through the crowd of people, passing Hannah who was bashing Patricia’s skull in with a serving platter. This was all a lot for Matthew to process, but he kept up with Gretchen, who was at least trying to get him out of this ever escalating situation. They got past the crowd and went into the adjoining hotel. She pulled him toward the front desk, when Matthew grabbed her wrist and pulled the opposite way.

“I have a place upstairs. We can hide there,” Matthew said, pulling her along.

They went down a hall and up the stairwell to the fifth floor. The echoes of the rabid women still followed them up the stairwell. They got to the top and went three doors down to room 508. He swiped his key card rapidly in front of the sensor. It kept beeping and a red dot appeared above the knob.

“Hurry,” Gretchen said.

He kept doing it until it beeped and the color changed to green. He pushed the door open and closed the door behind Gretchen. Matthew backed into the untouched room while Gretchen kept her ear to the door. The women gathered outside in the hall, all upset that they lost him.

“I can’t believe you lost him,” one of the women said.

“Me? I beat you up here and I am in heels. What’s your excuse?” another woman responded.

“Ladies. Ladies. We didn’t lose him. He is obviously hiding. Playing hard to get was always his style,” Maddie said and the rest of the women nodded in agreement. Maddie pulled out a handful of key cards from her purse.

“Everyone take one and split up. Whoever gets him is worthy of his love.”

Most of the women grabbed their card and went back into the stairwell to go searching at the other levels. Only Maddie and Sandra stayed on the fifth floor.

“I don’t mind sharing if you don’t?” Sandra offered.

“It’s a deal.”

They both went to the doors on each side of the hall and went inside. When they were done searching they called each room clear and went to the next.

“They will be here any second. Quick, look sexy on the bed,” Gretchen said, pushing him on the king-sized bed.

“What?”

“I’m going to hide in the closet. You distract them with your hunkiness and I will take them out from behind.”

“Wait? Distract them. Hunkiness?” Matthew asked.

Gretchen closed the closet just as the door beeped. Maddie opened the door and saw Matthew sitting on the bed.

“He’s in here,” Maddie called out to Sandra from the entrance.

They both came inside the room and closed the door. Sandra peeked her head in the dark bathroom while Maddie went up to the closet.

“Maddie. I thought you were here for me. Not my empty closet,” Matthew said, trying to play it cool.

She stopped short of opening it and ran her fingernails across it instead. “You sure are right, baby.”

Sandra came out from the bathroom and waved with her fingers at him. They both approached him from two sides, licking their ruby red lips. In a normal situation he would be thrilled, but this was getting out of hand.

“So Matthew, who do you choose? Me or Sandra?” Maddie asked.

“He chooses me, you whores!” Gretchen said, jumping out of the closet with a knife in each of her hands. She dispatched them so fast Matthew blinked and almost missed it. What he would have given to blink slower. When she was done, she bounded to the door, blood dripping from her blades.

“I’m not done yet. Not till they are all gone and you are safe. Stay put. I’ll be back.” Gretchen blew him a kiss as she left.

His head was spinning. He had two dead women in his hotel room and there were sure to be more bodies by the end of the night. All because he wanted what he was never supposed to have. Love was supposed to be developed, nurtured. Not conjured out of thin air. What he had to do next took a lot of willpower, but he knew there was no other way. He went into the bathroom and found his night pack. Inside, he pulled out an extra shaver blade and lined it up with his pointer finger on the tabletop next to the sink.

“Come on Matthew. The Yakuza can do it. So can you,” he said to himself.

He took a few rapid short breaths and slammed the blade with his palm into his pointer finger, searing it clean off. He screamed in pain and fell back onto the floor as blood leaked out the end. The blade slid on the floor next to him, but he did not have the will to do his other finger. The door beeped and Gretchen came back inside, covered head to toe in her victim’s blood.

“Matthew! What happened!” she said, falling to her knees next to him. She held his hand in hers, trying to comfort him.

“I tried to cut it off.”

“Why?”

“I was the cause of all this. This finger is the reason I have an army of women after me,” Matthew said, trying to pick up his finger.

“What are you talking about? The blood loss must be getting to you.”

“No. I have this power. The power to make anyone fall in love with me by just pointing at them.”

“Yep. You must be going into shock. I’ll get you a towel.”

“I’m serious. Your feelings you have for me aren’t real. I used my power on you. Think about it. Did you ever have feelings for me before we got together?”

“Yes.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes I did. Ever since I saw you in that psychology class. Third row with that dorky backpack. What a nerd you were. My whole notebook for that class is just pictures of you with your name written all over it.”

“But–”

“I was always hoping you were going to ask me out, but my friends all told me to play hard to get. Hell, even my counselor told me not to date anyone. That I need to work on myself. Take my medicine. Blah blah blah.”

“So...my powers...didn’t work.”

“Nope. And nothing in this world is going to take me away from you. Not even those psycho bitches.”

She hugged him tight and he stared ahead. It was more terrifying than he had thought. This woman wasn’t crazy because of him. She was crazy all by herself.

***

Finding Purpose

"Number sixteen. Sixteen," I said to the lobby. 

"Over here." An older man waddled up to the counter and grabbed the brown bag of grease from me. 

I looked out into the sea of faces all waiting for their turn on the shit express. It's one way to clean your plumbing out, but I would prefer an enema. I turned away from their far too happy faces and returned to the scorching fires of the kitchen. 

The fries relaxed in the bubbling vat of despair, calling for me to join them. Patties let out a sigh of comfort on the stovetop next to them. They enjoyed their last moments unconcerned they will be ripped apart by some little monster who mixes all the fountain drinks together. Their purpose in life seemed much better than mine.

"Hey Steve, look who's here," Susie said from the window.

I walked over and it was thee Jackson Merrick. My jaw dropped so low it could have scrapped the grease off the floor. Jackson Merrick. At a place like this. Susie was counting his money to get him change.

"Is that really him?" I asked her, looking back out the window.

"It sure is."

"Give me the change. I want to talk to him."

"Sure. He had number nineteen," she said, handing me the change. She took off her blue cap and headset, leaving me to talk to my hero. I leaned out of the window and stretched out my hand full of quarters.

"Here you go Mr. Merrick. I have to say, I'm a big fan. The way you rebelled against your family's purpose for your life. It's an inspiration."

"Let me guess, your parents wanted you to cook?"

"Serve others. But yes. My whole family cooks, so naturally I'm stuck here. I only wish I could be like you.”

Mr. Merrick dropped the quarters in his cup holder and threw the car in park.

"You wanna know the secret to how I went against my parents' purpose for me?" Mr. Merrick said.

I leaned in closer, almost falling out the window. "How?" 

"I didn't."

I shook my head. "I don't understand…"

"Your parents' purpose for you is to serve others, right?"

"Yes."

"Who said you had to cook? Your purpose is broad, not narrow. The more creatively you think about your purpose, the more you will realize your family got it right. You just haven't found it yet."

I handed him his bag and let his words sink in. I hadn't found my purpose yet. I hadn't found my purpose...yet.

Dust Bunnies

Glass shattering and the almost silent sound of soft feet bounding down the hall leaked into Timmy's room. Timmy was under his blue rocket sheets, peeking his head out to watch the grey blurs run past his room between the crack in the door. Mom had always warned him that if he didn't clean his room the dust bunnies would become real, but he didn't listen. Timmy hid under his sheets again upon hearing a banging on the door. It wasn't his, but the one across the hall. They were hunting. They wanted blood.

Timmy's spaceman pajamas were sticking to his skin and dread was starting to set in. His mom and dad left to go to a concert and Jenny put Timmy to bed early so she could go out with her boyfriend, Justin. Timmy was all alone and no one was coming to save him. 

Bang! His door slammed against the wall. Timmy closed his eyes and laid still, curled up in his bed. He could hear the air entering their little lungs as they sniffed around his bed. Three, maybe four of them. One jumped up on the bed, next to his foot. Timmy slowly moved it away, trying to not change the position of his sheets. The bunny hopped closer, pushing the sheet down. It hopped again and landed on his leg.

"Aggghhhh!" Timmy squealed.

Throwing the sheet off himself and kicking the wrapped up bunny off the bed, he bounced off his bed and fell into his closet. The puffy grey bunnies surrounded him and moved in like a pack of wolves. They showed their white teeth and growled. Their beady red eyes stared into Timmy's, void of any emotion other than pure rage.

Timmy backed up and his clothes covered his face. His right hand grabbed something with a handle and it came alive. It whirled and grew louder once it stuck into the carpet. He lifted it up and the suction broke from the carpet, yet still made the same whirring sound. He moved the clothes out of his eyes and the bunnies hopped away. In his hand was a little hand vacuum his mom gave him to clean his room. He got to his feet and held the vacuum up like he found Excalibur. 

"Time to get cleaning!" Timmy declared and marched out of his room.

The bunnies all ran around in terror at the sound of his vacuum. Timmy chased them all over the house, sucking them up one by one. Each one squeaked in fear as their bodies got squeezed into the small opening, disappearing into the void. He vanquished them all, until there was only one left. Cornered against the red oak entrance door, he moved in closer. The bunny had nowhere to go and covered its eyes with its fluffy paws. Timmy was about to strike when the vacuum stopped. He slapped it a few times, but it refused to come back to life.

The bunny removed its paws and locked eyes with Timmy. The bunny roared while Timmy stood there still trying to wake up his vacuum. It lowered its body, ready to spring into action when the door came swinging open. The bunny was smashed into the wall behind it and turned into a cloud of dust. In the doorway, Timmy's mom and dad stood in their fancy clothes.

"What did you do?" Timmy's mom asked.

Timmy looked around at the giant mess in the house. Vases and their contents spilled on the couch, the TV was face down on the living room carpet, and the horror in the kitchen that would be best described as the aftermath of a hurricane was all that was left for his parents to witness.

"I was just cleaning."