
                              The Witch Store


     Finally, I'm on my way.  I've been saying I was going to go
and check it out for awhile, and here I am on my way to Starmist.
     I'm worried, though.  I'm afraid my husband, Brad, is going
to find out where I am before I get home.  He's never really
forbidden me to go anywhere, but he has this way about him... he
can punish me with his silence for going somewhere that he
doesn't approve of.  This is definitely one of those places.
     I'm also worried about Felicia.  She's driving the two of us
out there, and I'm scared she's taking this whole thing too far. 
Starmist is one of her favorite places.  She swears up and down
it will soothe my frayed nerves.  God, I hope.  
     This place-- Starmist-- specializes in that fancy occult
paraphernalia:  healing crystals, love oils and astrological
charts.  Brad hates that kind of stuff.  Not that I care what
Brad thinks.  No, that's not true.  I do care.  I have to care.  
     "What time do you need to be home?" Felicia asks, exiting
the interstate.  Starmist is almost an hour from the east side
of town, where we both live.
     "I don't know.  Why?" I pull down the visor and peer into
the mirror.  A tired blonde with pale gray eyes stares back.  A
twenty-four year old shouldn't have those kind of lines around
her mouth like that.  I pull the mirror out of my sight once
again.
     "One day when I came here I stayed for hours.  Brad won't
mind if you're not back until tonight sometime?"
     "No," I say, but I'd hesitated a second too long. 
     Felicia glances away from the road to my face for an
instant.  She's wearing rounded, extra-dark sunglasses, and I
can't see her eyes, but still I know that she knows.
     "He doesn't even know where we're going, does he?" Felicia
asks, tossing her black hair over her shoulders.
     I shrug and open my mouth, but nothing comes to mind.  I
can't think of anything at all to say.
     "He doesn't, does he?" Felicia persists.
     "Well, no," I say, slowly.  "I didn't tell him."
     Felicia bursts out laughing, and I nearly jump out of my
seat.  For a second, I think she's going to lose control of the
steering wheel.
     "What's funny about it?" I ask, slightly annoyed.
     "No wonder you're so quiet.  You're sitting there scared
like hell that he's going to find out before you get home."
     She always could read me like a large-print book, but
then again I guess it wasn't so hard to figure out.  "Well, yes,
I am.  He doesn't like this stuff."
     "Maybe he wouldn't be so afraid of it if you bought him
something."
     Somehow the idea of taking a ouija board home to Brad
doesn't give me the impression that it'll ease his mind.  "What
could I possibly buy him?"
     Felicia thinks for a second before replying.  "A rose
quartz."
     "A what?"
     "It's a crystal that restores the love aura in a person,
gives them back the ability to love."
     "Brad doesn't need a love quartz--"
     "That's rose quartz."
     "Whatever," I say, "He doesn't need it.  He's doing just
fine in that department." I wonder if that's really true, then
decide it isn't.  
     "Okay, I believe you," Felicia says.  She doesn't, of
course.  She changes the subject by telling me we are almost
there.  Though I don't want to show my eagerness, I feel myself
sitting up straighter in my seat.  I glance quickly around at the
buildings, and my eyes fall upon one large two-story building.  I
can't seem to tear my eyes away from it.  Felicia hasn't told me
this is Starmist, but I can feel it deep down in the bottom of my
heart where instincts lie dormant until you stumble upon them.
     The bottom story of Starmist is built of dark red brick,
while the upper level is a vertical wood design painted black. 
Near the top, a white sign announces in purple script, Starmist. 
Suddenly, reading that sign, I'm hit with mixed emotions. 
Starmist is ancient.  Thirty or so years ago, when my mother had
been a little girl, she and her friends had started calling it
The Witch Store.  At that time, of course, astrology and healing
crystals were dabbled in only by those who would openly claim to
be witches.  I'm sure there were plenty of others who took an
interest in it- in fact, I'd be willing to bet it's a much bigger
number than would ever admit-- but they did so only in the
darkest sense of privacy.  Throughout the years, my mother
managed to transfer some of her skepticism and disapproval to me.
Despite my burning fascination and curiosity with these foreign
beliefs, I can't stop a lump of her reserved attitude from
welling up from my stomach and catching in my throat.  I try to
swallow it away, but it won't go.
     Felicia finds a parking space easily and pulls her white
Fairmont into a parking place right outside the front doors.  She
pulls open the door, which is painted black to match the top
level, and steps inside.  Reluctantly, I follow her.
     The store is really just a large room.  I squint in the dim
lighting, but I can neither see all the way to the top nor all
the way to the back.  
     The gentle blend of light and shadows takes my breath away.
Thick candles in reds, yellows, purples and blacks burn brightly
every five feet or so all around me.  Without them, and a
brightly lit jewelry case in front of me, the room would be
totally dark.  A sweet, hypnotic scent tickles my nose and I see
a thin stream of smoke waft upward from a dark-colored incense
stick on a table near the door.  Woodwind instruments blend their
notes into a soft, soothing melody that is drifting out of unseen
speakers.  This sudden combination of sensory-pleasing details
causes me to feel relaxed, even somewhat faint.
     A large portion of the right side of the room is sectioned
off while a sign overhead reads in woodburned letters "The
Laboratory."  I see shelves of flavored and scented oils,
elixirs, potpourri, incense and scented candles.  More incense
and candles burn on display counters.  To my left, crystal balls
and oil lamps sit on shelves in a pattern anyone had to tread
carefully around in order not to knock askew.  I can't see stairs
anywhere, but the upper level is partially lighted, and I catch
sight of astrology charts hanging on the walls and heavy, redwood
tables with stacks of tarot cards in the middle, half-wrapped in
silk scarves.  The sight is quite overwhelming, and strangely
beautiful.
     The most beautiful thing in the room, however, is the
jewelry display case in front of me.  Thousands of gems and
crystals glitter, electrified, in the light under the locked
glass.  Felicia already has a chain around her neck with two
crystals on it.  One is an amethyst quartz, which was supposed to
raise self-esteem, and the other is a white quartz with an opal
in the center, which she wears to ease stress and emotional
tension.  I start thinking seriously about investing in them
myself.
     Felicia follows my eyes to her necklace.  "I'd still like to
get an emerald."
     "What are emeralds for?"
     "A lot of things," she answers, stepping into to the light. 
I follow her, though I feel as if I'm walking in her shadow. 
"They can help you increase your own psychic awareness."
     "Excuse me," a male voice says from behind the jewelry case.
I jerk my head toward the source, and blink when I see this
incredibly good-looking man with long light brown hair shimmering
over his black silk shirt.  He's just standing there staring at
the two of us.  "Is one of you ladies named Simone?"
     "No," Felicia says, immediately.
     "Samantha?" the man persists.  "Something that starts with
an S?"
     I shake my head, trying to figure out what's going on. 
Either he's flirting with us, or he feels like the atmosphere is
appropriate enough to try to impress us with his ESP.  His
defective ESP.  I struggle to suppress a laugh.
     "Is one of you married?" he asks, tossing his hair out of
his eyes and mesmerizing me in the process.  He's gorgeous.  Now
I'm sure of it.  He's flirting, but he's not going to waste his
time if other men have already staked their claim.
     "I am," I say, my heart sinking a tiny bit, wondering which
part of me it is that is so eager to give out that information.
     "What's your name?" he asks, softly.  I am quite aware of
Felicia watching me carefully, as well as the blush that has
begun in my cheeks.
     "Darla," I barely choke out, and have to clear my throat
before continuing.  "Darla Ramone."
     "That's it!" the man says, slapping the glass counter in
triumph.  I jumped.  "Your husband called.  He wants you to call
him."
     I feel the red in my cheeks and the goofy high-school grin
leave my face like thunderstorm clouds blowing over a summer sun.
Suddenly the room was too bright, despite the dim lighting, and
too hot, despite the air conditioning system.  Through a fog, I
feel Felicia patting my arm sympathetically. 
     "I guess Ramone could sound like Simone," Felicia whispers. 
"I'll be over here while you call Brad."
     Felicia disappears.  I realize my legs are carrying me to
the counter and the handsome clerk, but not on orders from my
brain.
     "Can... can I use you phone please?" I stammer, embarrassed.
How the hell had Brad found out where I was?
     "Sure.  What's the number?" the man says.  He's not wearing
a name tag, so I have no idea what his name is.  I give him the
number and press the receiver to my ear, listening as the phone
rings once, twice, three times.  Finally, Brad picks up.
     "Hello?"
     "Brad?"
     "Darla?  Where the hell are you?"  
     My mouth opens and closes once before I can answer.  "I'm at
Starmist.  You know that." I glance at the clerk behind the
counter, but he's busy with some customers and not paying
attention.
     "Yes.  I do know that.  Courtesy of Felicia's boyfriend,"
Brad says.  "When are you coming home?"
     "I don't know.  A couple of hours?" I always tried to phrase
controversial answers into new questions to show that they are
negotiable.  It's saved me from a lot of unnecessary
confrontation.
     "Well try to hurry.  You've got the checkbook and I need
it."
     "Okay.  I'll be back by..." I pause to look at my watch. 
"I'll be back by five." 
     "All right," he says.  I didn't like the huffiness in his
tone, the I-Caught-You-Doing-Something-Bad note in his voice.
     "Bye, Brad," I say.  
     "Wait!"
     His shout surprises me.  "What?"
     "Don't do anything those witches tell you to do."
     "Brad--" I say.  "It's not like that."
     "I'm just warning you."
     I sigh.  "Okay."
     "Five o' clock," he reminds.
     I hang up.
                           *    *    *    *    *
     I step into the house, the door slamming loudly behind me.
     "Brad?" I call out, even though I don't feel his presence in
the house.  I look at my watch again; it's almost six-thirty.  I
open the hall closet door and shove my purchase behind some
coats.
     "Brad?" I walk down the hall to the bedrooms, glancing in
the living room as I pass it.
     After confirming the bedroom is empty, I head for the
garage.  I open the garage door and flick on the light.  Brad's
car is gone.
     I feel enormous relief wash over me.  But then I wonder:  is
it a good thing or a bad thing that Brad is gone?
     I go into the living room and turn on the TV, but I can't
seem to concentrate on any of the shows.  My thoughts begin to
drift toward Starmist again and what I'd bought there.
     Felicia was right.  It's too easy to lose track of time in
there.  Felicia and I had stayed in Starmist for four and a half
hours, before realizing it was long past five.
     Felicia showed me everything, upstairs and down.  I talked
with the handsome clerk and learned his name was Chris.  He had
told me how I could get the life I always wanted.  I only needed
one thing.  Well, actually, it was two things.
     This is maddening.
     My eyes keep straying the closet door and I wonder if I'd
have time to do what Chris has instructed me.
     I can't.  I can't!
     But I find myself opening the door and taking out the sack
anyway.  I pull out two candles, one pink and one black and sit
them side by side on the coffee table in the living room. 
According to the position of the moon, Chris had given me
the names of the two colors of candles I need to create a harmony
in my life.
     This is crazy!  If Brad walks in, what am I going to tell
him?
     I blink, and suddenly the doubt is lifted off my shoulders. 
Somehow, Brad doesn't matter right now.  I have to concentrate on
what Chris had told me to do.
          I find a matchbook in the bottom of my purse and light
the candles.  Now all I need to do is make my wish.  Chris
explained that the energy in the candles would be sent out to
fulfill my wish, once the candles had burned themselves out.
     I stare at the flames and watch the wax run down the sides
of the candles, bonding them to the table.
     I wish...
     What is it?  What is it that will make me truly happy?  
     I wish that Brad and I could be like we used to be.  And I
want Brad and I to be together for the rest of my life.
     I add the last part, not sure whether it's going to count or
not.  It is, after all, really two wishes.  But I couldn't help
it; it's what will make me happy.
     Leaning back into the couch, I watch the candles in a daze. 
I try to imagine Brad and I still being together ten years from
now, but I can't concentrate.  Suddenly, I'm too tired to think
at all.
     Time passes, and I awake several hours later.  The
television is still on.  The candles have melted all the way down
and left in their place a smoldering, grayish pile of wet wax.
     I stand up and stretch, looking at my watch.  It's almost
ten o' clock.  I turn off the TV and begin walking to the
bedroom, remembering that Brad still isn't home.  Where the hell
could he have gone?
     I stumble into the bedroom in confusion, relieved to see a
shape under the bed covers.  So he's home after all.  Why didn't
I hear him come in?  I'm a light sleeper.  I should've heard the
front door open and close.
     Looking at down at Brad makes me miss him.  I pull off my
shirt and jeans, climbing into bed beside him.  He rolls over to
hold me and I sink into his arms.
     "Why didn't you wake me?" I whisper.  But he doesn't answer,
so I figure that he reached for me in his sleep.
     I'm was almost asleep myself when the ringing of the
telephone jolts me awake again.  I grab the receiver from the
phone on the nightstand next to my head without sitting up.
     "Hello?"
     "Darla!" 
     "What do you want, Felicia?" It wasn't unusual for her to
call in the middle of the night, though it had been awhile since
she'd done it.
     "Darla!  Oh my God!"
     Suddenly, I'm wide awake, alarmed at the tone in her voice. 
     "What is it?"
     "It's Brad!  He was in a car accident!" she cries.
     And he didn't wake me up to tell me?  I thought.
     "How do you know this?" I ask.
     "Wayne and I were driving into the city, to a bar.  We saw a
huge wreck up ahead, and when I recognized your car, I made Wayne
stop the car so I could make sure you weren't in it."
     Felicia pauses and I feel a sharp stab of foreboding in my
stomach.
     "Darla?" she continues.  "He-- he was killed."
     I feel my heart catch in my throat, and shake my head in the
darkness.  "No, you're wrong.  He--"
     "Darla," she says, quietly.  "It's not a mistake.  The
police should be there any minute.  I thought you should hear it
from me.  But there's another reason why I decided to call you as
well."
     My heart pounds.  "What's that?"
     "Well, I was standing there, talking to this officer,
explaining that I knew the guy, when I hear one of the cops start
shouting." She pauses, giving my fear time to breed.  "They lost
the body, Darla.  When the police come to tell you, they're going
to lie their asses off, cover it up.  I suspect that's why you
haven't been told yet.  They are still looking."
     "What do you mean they lost the body?"
     "It's just gone.  One second it was there, and the next it
wasn't.  I don't understand it either.  I'm so sorry, Darla.  It
was like he just got up and walked away..."
     Suddenly, I'm very aware of Brad's arms around me, of the
way they grope at me, cling to me.  I drop the phone without
realizing it.
     "Brad?" I whisper.  He doesn't answer me, or even stir.
     Slowly, I move my hand back up to the nightstand, to the
reading lamp.  My hand finds the switch and I click it on.
     Light washes the room in color.  It is Brad lying next to
me, but something is wrong with his face.  His eyes are closed in
sleep, but there are streaks of blood on his face and neck. 
Above his right ear is a gash that runs so deep, I can see the
white of his skull.
     "...And I want Brad and I to be together for the rest of my
life..."
     Suddenly, his arms tighten around me and he opens his eyes.
     Only, instead of eyes, I find myself looking into the deep
void of bloody, empty sockets.  In my mind, Brad was talking, he
was warning me about the witch store.
     "I told you not to do anything those witches told you to
do," he says.
     I open my mouth to scream.
     


@ 1995 by Black Sunshine



