The Lost Memories of Mrs. Mathalda

At the bottom of Witch’s Point Peak, Emma and Arnold’s house was composed of rotting wood and chipped purple paint. The house leaned to the left, and as a result, everything had a crookedness about it’s setting.

Precisely 1 year ago, the only thing that seemed to be straight, was Arnold’s slanted smile which was conspicuously absent from his face.

He stood on the porch, with his hands deep inside the pockets of his trousers, and looked towards the sky. Rain was coming.

Emma walked up the porch stairs.

“What’s going on honey?”

She stood next to him. Silence passed, and the wind whipped with a ragged ferocity. Arnold placed a hand on top of Emma’s hand.

“Maybe it’s time to quit lying to ourselves. We don’t really love each other….Do we?”

“What do you mean, Arnold?”

“Marriage is a commitment to be honored. Its Acceptance. Stability. Companionship. But its not love, Emma. It’s not love. I’ve loved the fact that you cleaned and cooked and brought me breakfast and you knew who I was and told jokes. I’ve loved the fact that there are 56 ways that you were different from every other girl. But—you—I’ve never really loved you”

Emma understood. In the 90 years the two had been married, she couldn’t say that she loved him. As a long unfilled pause began to settle, she tried to think of the reasons she’d married Arnold. Emma always thought she’d grow to love him, but never had.

Arnold walked off of the patio, his bald head reflecting the dark billowing clouds, and the two shared a moment. His pale blue eyes met hers. He gave her an encouraging grin, and dug his hands even deeper into his pockets.

Rain drops began to fall in large splatters.

The first lightning bolt of the rainstorm struck Arnold. The pale white light was unbelievably bright. Even as she ran to her husband, Emma knew he was dead. But it wasn’t until she knelt in the soggy grass, and pressed her fingers to his wrist, that she was certain.

On October 31st, an orange flame illuminated Emma Mathalda’s hand, and she saw her wedding ring. She thought about the glittering band, as she threw 3 handfuls of crushed rat-tail in the cauldron.

The liquid boiled forcing the sour smell of a dead man’s spit to waft around the small cave. Instantly, Emma felt dizzy and leaned her head against the cave’s wall hoping to catch the scent of dirt instead of sorcery.

A normal witch would savor the smell of a strong spell, but Emma Mathalda’s body shook with age. This was her last chance to bring back her memories, which were beginning to wither away.

Emma stepped out of the cave for a fresh breath of air, and looked at the full iridescent moon which illuminated the quivering clouds. The glittering stars reminded her of Arnold, and how—in what seemed like a completely different lifetime—she would have caught him laying in the grass and tracing constellations with his finger.

Her mind was fickle and the memory faded just as quickly as it had come. Emma tried to remember what she’d been thinking about, but nothing came.

The potion was almost ready. As she walked towards it, her thoughts began to fade even quicker. She only had so much time to salvage her mind. Emma grew nervous.

“My parents names are Tim and Lina” she said to herself in a well-worn mantra “My name is Emma Mathalda. The wife of Arnold Mathalda. I am 112 years old. I have a daughter named Lee Ann.”

She stopped and took a deep breath, happy that she could remember her basic information.

Emma tried again, “My parents names are…My parents names are…Tim and—and—what is her name. I just said it.”

Jack o’ lanterns casted light into the cave, and Emma could tell by the bright green steam her potion was ready. She used her broom to sweep up her plastic wrappers and wasted sage.

As she swept, her memories flickered back and forth and then faded away. By the time she sat her broom against the cave’s wall, everything had left her.

She looked at the cauldron confused.

‘What am I doing here?’

At this point, the witch only had one memory left.

The memory was of Arnold, and the moment just before he died. When his pale blue eyes met hers, he stood in the clearing in front of the leaning house, and grinned at her. Emma could feel the image of Arnold beginning to fade, and concentrated to hold on to it.

10 seconds passed. 20 seconds passed.

The memory began to fade into oblivion. The image of the clearing left, the leaning house floated away, but Arnold’s slanted grin stayed steady.

And then…even Arnold began to fade.

Emma struggled to hold on to his face, when she realized, that it was that moment in the clearing when everything changed between her and her husband.

“I love you,” she said just before the memory left.

Her tired bones ached, and she sat down next to the boiling cauldron which warmed her body. Her black hat leaned forward as she rested her head in her arms.

From inside of the cauldron, which now contained all of the memories Emma lost, Arnold whispered back,”I love you, too.”


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Word Count: 896