A Magic Story

So a few days ago, I put out this post on my social media for people to submit in their short stories: the theme magic or anything that made them believe in the extraordinary. I promised at the bottom of the post, if I found the story convincing enough, I’d publish it on my blog, with credit, of course.

Interestingly, only a few days later, I received a message.

“Hi, I’d like to share my story. I saw your post. However, please know that this is a fake account and I have no intention of letting you know my real name, whatsoever.”

I was baffled.

I read the story he/she wanted to share.

And I could not help but post it here. Now, while I love me some spooky stories and some horror movies, it is not that I had the motive of going with this theme. I just had to share it.

And it is a magical story indeed; black magic, but magic nonetheless. I will leave the rest for you to figure out.

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I come from a small village in Mustang (edited). I came here after my high school. I rented out a room in Baneshwor (edited) to continue my undergrad studies.

When I was in my final year, on my way home from college, I saw a young woman bewildered on the road. She was a pretty young thing. I stopped. Can you blame me?

“Where to Miss?”

Her face broke into a beautiful smile. I was almost afraid to blink, I did not want to miss one moment of that smile.

“Just up a little ahead”

“And what would the name of the gorgeous lady be?”

“Shanaya” (edited) she blushed.

That was the first of our many conversations.

We began to see other shortly after and a couple of weeks later, we began dating.

I loved her with all my heart. At the time, it seemed like the best thing to ever happen to me.

Boy, was I wrong!

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After 6 months of dating, we decided to move in together; bold move? That’s what my landlord said too. But I could not care less.

We were on cloud 9, at the start at least.

A few weeks in, I would wake up to not find her in bed. It didn’t really seem so off. She would sleep walk sometimes, nothing too much.

Her absence in bed had me wake up more than once at night. It sort of became a ritual. I was used to finding her in the hallway or leaning against a window.

But that one particular night, when I woke up at night, I did not find her roaming in the hallway. I saw light beam from the nearly closed guest room.

Mumbles could be heard from inside.

Stifled laughter, I think?

But I could not make out the words.

I tapped my ear to the door but to no avail. I slowly pushed the door a little bit.

I saw Shanaya.

She was facing an empty wall, her back turned to the door.

She was talking to herself.

I rolled my eyes. Her sleepwalking had taken a new turn.

With a smirk, I thought “I’m not even going to take her back to bed. I’ll ask her about it in the morning. Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”

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When I woke up the next morning, Shanaya was already in the kitchen making breakfast.

“You developed a new habit, huh?” I rolled up the sleeves of my nightshirt as I shuffled into the kitchen.

“What?” she scrunched her face.

“Last night” I giggled. “You were talking to yourself, in the guest room”

“Ohh” she suddenly stopped chopping. “What did you hear?”

Her tone suddenly sounded different, I couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Nothing, I didn’t really hear anything just saw that you were talking to yourself” I said.

I didn’t really push the matter.

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That very day, on my way home I saw these pair of earrings that I knew Shanaya would like. I bought them instantly.

I called out for her as I opened the door.

“Shanaya?”

No answer.

“Shanaya? Are you home?”

I heard water running in the bathroom.

She must be in the shower, I thought to myself.

I saw her bag lying unattended on the bed.

I got hold of it. I would put in the earrings in her bag. She’d be in for an even bigger surprise.

Now I know what they say, about how you’re not supposed to open a girls’ bag, but I was just going to toss it in.

I was the one who was in for a surprise, when I opened her bag to see a small black box. It looked nothing like a makeup box either.

My curiosity got the best of me.

I saw rolled up parchments, other stuff I could not make out, burnt candles, but what really caught my attention was a lock of hair in the box.

Short, wiry, light brown hair.

I’d recognize that hair anywhere.

It was my hair.

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I did not inquire Shanaya about the black box or about the lock of hair.

I wanted to make sense of it myself. She was talking to herself last night. She has a lock of my hair. Why would she need a lock of my hair? Things were just getting weirder and weirder.

Something just did not sit right in my gut.

Did I trust this girl too easily? Did we take things too fast?

I was restless.

It was past 11 pm.

I could not sleep a wink.

Shanaya was sleeping peacefully beside me.

I don’t know why, but I had begun to feel nervous around her now.

I took out my laptop and opened Google.

I looked up talking to yourself at night staring at the wall, clips of hair, strange black box.

All results directed to black magic.

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Could it be true?

Could Shanaya really be involved with black magic? I thought as I took another turn in bed.

Was she planning to do something with me? Is that why she has that lock of my hair?

Sleep did not come mercifully that night. And when I had barely slept for, I don’t know, maybe, half an hour, I woke up again.

Shanaya was not beside me.

Of course. What else is new?

She must be wondering out in the hall again or mumbling to herself.

I turned to get water on my nightstand and almost let out a shout.

She was standing at the foot of our bed.

In the moonlight that shone through the open window, I could see her face and I have never been more scared in my life.

She was just staring at me; straight ahead, with a sinister smile on her face.

“Sha-Shanaya?” I squeaked.

No response.

“Shanaya!” I said louder this time.

Still no response.

I turned on the lamp on my nightstand.

She didn’t budge, not an inch. Shanaya stood so upright, so focused, it was hard to tell if she was even breathing.

I slowly made my way to her.

Her eyes shifted with me.

I shook her.

“Shanaya!”

“Huh? What?”

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“What?” she asked confused, but calm.

“Is this your new of sleepwalking? Because that scares me!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Just go back to sleep” and just like that she staggered over to her side of the bed and fell sound asleep in mere 2 minutes, as if we were just talking about a tiresome day at work.

Frankly, I was started to get uncomfortable at this point.

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I kept myself together for 2 more days.

What if you’re overreacting? That small voice in my head said.

But the day I found that small black book hidden neatly between her clothes, while I was looking for my favorite shirt, I packed all the stuff I needed in a backpack and I got out of there.

I knew that small black book.

I saw that small black book.

I saw that book of black magic come up on searches when I Googled a few nights earlier.

I wasn’t waiting for her to have her way around with me. I wasn’t going to wait around for whatever she had planned out.

This wasn’t a horror movie where I’d literally go check what that sound in the basement is.

I was getting out of there.

And I haven’t seen her since.

I changed everything. My phone number, my address, everything.

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I messaged the person right back.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is it that you created a fake account? Is there any way at all you could share your name and address? I did promise on my post, that I would be giving credit. Don’t make me look bad. Just joking. J”

The person replied instantly.

“I’m sorry. I can’t”

“It’s alright. I understand. May I ask why? It’s okay if you don’t want to”

But the person did say why.

And the why sent chills down my spine. I read it in a whisper.

“Because she still has that lock of my hair”