Candlelight Corner

         The moon was full that night and the winds blew gently through the dying limbs of the trees. Large, black clouds wafted slowly across the stars and the air seemed to glisten with a mysterious, magickal lullaby.
         Then, I saw the shop. It was very enchanting and I could not help but enter. It was an occult shop, tiny and secluded from the rest of the downtown market stands and stores. That night, it was the only place open. All the others were closed. Odd fragrances crawled up my nostrils as I opened the thick, oaken door to Candlelight Corner, the mystical tinkle of the door’s bells peaceful and alluring.
         The main room of the shop was devoid of people but the amazing decorations of the little place were fascinating, enchanting, breath-taking. Ancient fabrics and tapestries adorned the walls and floors, making the room warm and cozy. A large stone fireplace sat on the right wall, sage-scented flames roaring with passion and heat. Wooden bookshelves lined the walls, all holding the most peculiar of titles and tomes.
         A few display tables stood assorted in the center of the room. One held all sorts, kinds, and types of incenses. Another was emblazoned with crystals and stones that seemed to glow with the moon’s light. Yet another sported intricately crafted bowls, goblets, chalices, and cauldrons, all made from clay, pewter, or other kinds of metals. A small round table near the fire held many kinds of candles, all with different sizes, colors, textures, and scents. And many other tables made up the rest of the shop holding magickal tools, daggers, bottles, oils, potions, dried herbs, plant seeds, statuettes, and so many other things.
         The tablecloths on these display tables were just as amazing and ancient as the tapestries and carpets, each unique with its own set of colors, symbols, and themes. On one of the bookshelves there stood a large jewelry rack holding all sorts of gems, chains, pentagrams, yin-yangs, crosses, and other spiritual symbols.
         Two small tables sat along the front of the shop, looking out through the small amount of window space covered with display platforms and curtains. The left side of the room held the counter of the shop along with a table behind it for making coffees and herbal teas. And the one thing that gave the shop its name was the candles.
         Tall, slender, white candles stood on every counter, table shelf, and cranny of the shop, all lit with a shimmering white light, pure and warm. I felt immediately at home and I knew the moment I entered here, my life was about to change.
         Just then, a short, waddling old woman emerged from a curtained, beaded doorway situated neatly between two bookshelves. She looked immediately startled as she saw me but soon broke out in cackling laughter.
         “I’m sorry, dearest,” she laughed. “You frightened the hiccups out of me. Thank you very much.”
         She grinned and her rosy red face scrunched up.
         “Come, sit,” she said, waddling me over to one of the tables, a grandmother-like warmth emanating calmly from her. “That deserves a free cup of tea.”
         She giggled again and began mixing all sorts of herbs, powders, leaves, stems, flowers, and roots into a cauldron-like pot behind the counter. I sat, watching her in awe. She was so amazing, the way she gracefully and flawlessly mixed all of the ingredients directly from memory. She could have been improvising the recipe but I was sure it was intricately memorized after many years of practice.
         The way her flowing, medieval gown of dark purple, maroon, and crimson fell upon her tiny body made her look like both a powerful, wise sorceress straight out of a fairy tale and a caring, nursing mother helping her sickly child. I was enchanted by her long, silver hair, some of it bunched sloppily into a bun with a few twigs and sticks. She was such an interesting, magickal being. I couldn’t help but want to be one of her friends or one of her students or even one of her children. She sat down, her face beaming with that motherly glow. She set a goblet of the tea before me and I gratefully took a sip.
         It was so warm, cinnamony, and spicy, thick, rich, and creamy. It healed, soothed, and warmed every part of my insides and I felt so peaceful, so calm, so at ease, and so amazingly happy. Where had this place been all my life? I took another sip, not realizing the woman had dashed over to a bookshelf.
         She returned, still smiling, with a leather-bound book in her hands. It was brown and letters were inscribed on the front cover, deeply set in gold: Magick: What It Is, What It Isn’t, and What You Want It to Be!
         “Read this tonight, dearest, and come back to my shop tomorrow. This was surely the meeting I had seen last night in my reading. You are most definitely my newest student, dearest,” she grinned. “Sleep well and farewell and all sorts of other 'wells'.”
         As she spoke, I took one last sip of the amazingly wonderful liquid. Everything went black. It then went unblack and I found myself standing outside of the tiny shop. The candles and lights and warmth of the inside had faded to darkness and a small sign in the window told me it had closed. I looked down to find the book the woman had given me in my hands.
         I smiled in the peace of the cool, autumn night and walked home, pondering my meeting with the amazing, old woman. It had seemed, from that tiny conversation we had, that I had just learned everything about her, and she had learned everything about me. I couldn’t wait to return.

         Magick. It is the use of willpower to create needed change in one’s life. That is it. It can be more but not less. There could also be herbs, roots, charms, talismans, fancy tools, elaborate altars, amazing, dramatic rituals, and powerful, uplifting chants whispered by hundreds of witches and magicians together.
         Or, it can be something as little as a momentarily held visualization of a desired goal, something easily done by a single person, taking nothing more than a few second’s time. That is magick and that is what I learned from Auntie Moonfreya’s book. She had written it herself. It wasn’t published; she had hand-bound (and hand-written) a few copies to sell in her store. And that was her name: Auntie Moonfreya. A beautiful name that described her perfectly. I found this out the next day, at Candelight Corner.
         The same, amazing, revitalizing burst of energy and warmth whooshed over me as I entered the store again, a feeling I thought would not reoccur. But it had, even in the brilliant autumn sunlight.
         Auntie Moonfreya held a feather duster in her hand, dancing and twirling around the shop, fluttering all of the dust away. I watched amazed, once again, as she cleaned every single surface with the utmost precision, not even knocking over a single candle, bottle, or book. When she had finished, she giggled for a grin had forever been on her face, and waddled over to me. She gently grabbed my hand, her spiritual warmth pushing any negativity from my body, mind, and spirit. She pulled me over to the fireplace and sat me down on a pile of beautiful, lushiously comfortable cushions. Until now, I had not noticed all of the rings on her fingers. They were beautiful, made from the most exotic and rare metals, stones, and gems I had ever seen.
         Today, she wore a black gown trimmed with a lustrous yellow material and speckled with an equally lustrous fabric cut into stars of many shapes. Her hair looked the same but today, her bun was held together with an array of very old and tarnished spoons, some of them even bent. She scurried gleefully away behind the counter.
         As I looked into the flames, a large smile on my face, I noticed someone else in the shop. It was a young woman a few years older than me (in her late twenties). Her eyes were green and her hair was brown and she was adorned in a pale green gown, composed of many layers of the same light, gauze-like material. She wore high leather boots and her hair softly flourished from the top of her head, unbound and falling no farther than her waist.
         She was polishing a piece of jewelry and watched me curiously, intently, her eyes discerning, almost terrifying slits, only small openings on her slender, healthily-colored face.
         "Who are you?" she said in a deep, drawing feminine voice. "Why are you here?" She was very serious and very solemn.
         "Auntie Moonfreya told me to come," I said. "I came here last night and she gave me a book to read." I pulled the book on magick out of my bag and showed the woman. She chuckled.
         "Foolish..." the woman mumbled under her breath. "My mother is always giving those books away to fools who come in here." I was rather offended now. "She doesn't understand that no one believes in magick anymore. She doesn't understand that only those fortunate enough to be raised with magick can ever harness the true power of the universe!"
         By now, the woman was looking up to the ceiling, squeezing the polishing rag and the silver chain in her hand. A dark grin stretched across her face and I could swear I saw a dark haze growing around her. She returned to her normal state when Auntie Moonfreya waddled back to us and the dark haze vanished. I didn't say anything to the woman, for I feared her now.
         Auntie Moonfreya handed me a goblet filled with another, warm, steaming liquid, a large smile on her face. She had obviously not noticed her daughter in the slightest bit.
         "Oh!" she cackled. "Have you met my daughter, Moonie?" The green-clad woman scowled and spat: "Moondoona, mother! My name is MOONDOONA!"
         Aunite Moonfrey only laughed. "She always did have a bit of a temper, didn't you, Moonie?"
         Moondoona, now red with rage, hurled the piece of jewelry to the floor (along with the cloth) and stomped through the back beaded curtain.
         Moonfreya ignored this and quickly grabbed my hand, an enormous grin on her face. "Did you read the book last night, dearest?"
         "Yes, I did," I replied, returning the smile.
         "Okay! Cast a spell, dearest," she cackled.
         I laughed, as well, and took a sip of the gorgeous, frothy liquid. At first, I thought she was kidding, but then I realized she was actually waiting for me to cast a spell! "Auntie Moonfreya (which I now suprisingly fealt comfortable with calling her), I do not know how!"
         "You read the book, did you not?"
         "I did, but..."
         "No 'buts', dearest! Just cast a spell!" she urged, a stream of warm encouragement pouring from her eyes into my own. "Just think of something you want, focus on it, imagine it coming to fruition, and simply, let it go! Come on! I will aid you with my own magickal ability!"
         I sighed. "Alright...I guess I would like a pet. Yes, a pet." I reassured myself. "I was planning on going this weekend to the pound to get a cat."
         Auntie Moonfreya cackled ecstaticly, a tinge of mystery in her magickal voice. "Why go to the pound when the perfect kitty for you will find you itself!" I agreed, and as an avid believer in the supernatural since childhood, I decided that this really would work. "So, now, dearest, close your eyes, focus on that perfect kitty, hold that picture in you mind for as long as you can, and let it go!"
         I did and in a few moments, I fealt this whooshing sensation (I don't know how else to describe it) crawling up my body. I opened my eyes and I really fealt like I had met the cat I had visualized.
         "Excellent, dearest, excellent! Now, don't forget to watch out for your special kitty on your way out!" Moonfreya cackled. "Now, don't you have a job to attend to, dearest!"
         A startled look came on my face! I had completely forgetten about work! I checked my watch. It was 10:00 am and I was supposed to be at work at 8:00.
         "Don't worry dearest, you won't be late!" she assured me. "Finish your tea and then hurry along!"
         I trusted her for some reason and after quickly finishing my tea, I gave Moonfreya a hug, thanked her for everything, and opened the door to the shop, feeling the refreshing autumn winds on my face.
         "Don't forget to come tomorrow, dearest! It's Super Sale Saturday!" she cackled happily and waved goodbye, her beautiful eyes gazing warmly at me as I exited the warm little place.
         I left with a smile on my face and rushed to a bus stop. Luckily, there was one scheduled to come at 10:15 and by 10:25, I had checked into the library. I was very surprised to find that my boss was away at a librarian convention in the town next mine and the only other librarian at the library was my good friend, Anita. She was in her early fifties and was always very helpful.
         "Don't worry, I won't tell her," she smiled warmly.
         "Thank you so much, Anita," I said as I swiped a man's library card and checked out his books. "Have a nice day."
         At about 3:00, my shift for the day was over. As I opened the door to the library and waltzed calmly out, I tripped over a large, plastic container, falling flat on my face. I regained my standing position and noticed that the container was a cat carrier! I looked inside to find the smallest, most adorable cat. My jaw dropped. It was the one I visualized. I opened the cage door (the container had no name or adress listed) and pulled out the collarless kitten. It was jet black with a small circle of white around its right eye. Its eyes were a beautiful green color and as I stroke the creature, I knew we had met before, whether in this life or the last. It soon fell asleep in my arms and I happily took it home in the carrier.
NOT FINISHED