A MANY YEARS LATER STORY

By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2022

Warning: If you don’t like reading fetish stories, then stop reading now.

Author’s Note: None.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

RT

OVERNIGHT FLIGHT

Stephanie lay in her pod. An overnight flight to the UK. Business class. Pampering.

This was the life! She inserted her ear plugs, drew up her blanket, turned on her side, and put on her face mask. She eagerly looked forward to several hours of sleep before landing. No jet lag --- and several bottles of airline wine. Well, she could use a dash of the finer life, she thought.

As she slowly made her way toward slumberland, she reflected on where she had been and where she was going.

Seventy-four and twice divorced and once widowed. Her first husband Trevor had left her for a younger woman; he had also left Stephanie with their two young children. Stephanie was still attractive at that time and reckoned she would find another man.

And she did. Paul charmed her (and the children) a few years later. But several years after that, and consistent with the story of her life, a foreign investment company acquired his company, downsized it, and raped its pension fund; the workers had penniless retirements. Paul drank himself in despair; never recovered and neither did their marriage.

At least then she still had some good looks left and the children, although they were now older and more independent.

Along came Steve. “Steve and Stephie!” their friends had greeted them. “The SS,” the children --- now in university --- joked. But yet another foreign firm intruded into their lives. Unemployed and ill-suited for an early retirement and deserving a mid-life crisis (he married Stephanie, remember), Steve took up several extreme sports and abandoned her to base-jump in Norway.

She hardly saw the children after that. Graduates now, they were recruited by international firms, signed to long-term contracts, went overseas, and settled in Singapore and Mumbai. Stephanie had seen her grandchildren once.

Her modest suburban house was now more than adequate but lifeless, modestly decorated but empty. Her modest car was on the cusp of rust. Her bank accounts were, yes, modest too.

Hers had been a good life but not a great one. Whenever things had started to look up, they began their slide down. Never too far down, but simply to a point of incessant economy and frugality, and then gradually up again.

But she had never soared. And her husbands’ common curse --- foreign acquisitions and downsizings --- had afflicted her as well. Money, or the lack thereof, had compelled her to work to 70. High school, university, and then 48 years of a miserable cycle of work, unemployment, work, unemployment, work, unemployment, and such. Retirement too seemed exhausting. Hers had been a long life.

Thus, Kim’s letter had invigorated her. Kim! An old friend from high school whom she had neither seen nor heard from since high school; Kim’s parents had shipped her off to a Swiss finishing school instead of the last two years of high school. She had disappeared from Stephanie’s life.

Thus, the thrill of Kim’s recent invitation! “Come to Battle! Explore 1066 and all that! Stay with me! We have little time left and so much to discuss!” The typed “Countess of Scarfolk” had been crossed out; in its place was “Kim”, written in a thick, bright green ink.

Kim, Cindy, Lorraine, Lori, Gwen, Brianna, Julie, and so many more: where were they all now? Many good times. So many good times.

Stephanie coasted into Slumberland.

AFTERNOON WITH NOBILITY

Her recently issued passport --- her second in her life --- was instantly recognized at customs. Stephanie was ignorant of the usual three-hour line-up. Hers had been the VIP treatment upon arrival: a breeze through customs; a valet greeting her to take her bags; a chauffeur driving her from Heathrow and into the country.

Cars on the left! Look at the cute village signs! The charming stone houses! Cobblestone! She hadn’t travelled much. Mexico once. Florida for a week several times. Never Europe.

The limousine made its way toward Battle.

As it rounded a narrow, bush-lined road (Two lanes? Impossible, she thought), it slowed by a stone gate and turned in. Along the long, tree-lined driveway, she saw spacious green fields. The sunlight kissed the wild flowers. Her window slightly cracked, she felt the fresh, warm air and listened to the soft cracking of the pebbles.

She began to feel a haunting tingling that she had not sensed for several years.

Had she been aware of English house styles, she would have identified the large house as being of the Stuart-style: splendid stonework, a dull brown metal roof, and a suitable setting for a country house mystery.

An old woman stood by the front door.

Kim!

Stephanie raced out of the limousine before it came to a complete halt. She raced up to Kim. The two women smiled at each other, breathless. Stephanie raced to embrace her old friend. Moments passed.

“It’s been so many years,” Kim said.

“Thank you so much for the invitation! Look at this!” she cried as she spun around and waved her hand at the magnificence of the estate. “You’ve done well! I’m happy for you!” She hugged Kim again.

“Come. Let’s have some tea,” Kim said, taking Stephanie by the arm, into the house. “Charles will take your bags to the First Guest bedroom.

Stephanie was gushing with enthusiasm. Travel! Adventure! Merry Olde England! And now Kim. A flood of happy, old memories. After all these years, Kim. Stephanie felt alive.

As she crossed the threshold, that old feeling grew stronger. It didn’t touch her mind, her heart, nor her soul. It awakened something she had almost completely forgotten because thought she had completely lost it, a few years ago, as all women like Stephanie eventually did: her witch gift.

And that barely extant gift sensed a ward --- several wards --- buffering her.

-----000-----

“Please sit, Stephanie,” Kim said gesturing toward a comfortable looking leather couch. Stephanie sat and glanced about the room. Oak paneling. Thick stone walls. Medieval tapestries. Stained glass. Slabs of old quarried stone. Open windows. Fresh air. A massive fireplace stood at the far end of the room.

“Mary? Two teas and some biscuits, please.”

Mary the maid left and returned. Kim jovially shooed her away.

The two old friends sat smiling at one another.

“So, what’s new?” Kim asked, taking her tea.

They laughed.

Kim put her hand on Stephanie’s forearm and encouraged her to talk. Stephanie did. She told Kim about university, her three marriages, the two divorces, Steve’s tragic death, the children, the grandchildren, life in Kingston, life in Portertown, life in Somerville, work, unemployment, the hiking club, golf--- “You play golf now?” Kim interrupted,” ---arthritis, the knee replacement operation, her rose garden, and such. “Now tell me about yours!” Stephanie exclaimed, her eyes wandering about the cozy room.

Kim sipped her tea.

“My parents, bless them, shipped me off to Madame Larouque’s Finishing School outside Bern. It was initially hell but turned out to for the better once I met William at a dance.”

Kim and William (the Earl of Scarfolk) had four children and ten grandchildren. William died two years ago: old age, peacefully. The four were, in birth order, a doctor, a lawyer, an investment banker, and another doctor. “Their favorite book was ‘The Little Boy Who Ran Away’ by Terry Tangmere; remember those books?”

Stephanie laughed and rolled her head back. It was wonderful to be able to engage with someone whose early years were so closely linked to hers. She too had read the Tangmere series when she was a kid.

“Enough about me now, Stephanie. Tell me about your family.”

This biscuit is delicious, Stephanie thought, before speaking.

“Mom and dad died 20 years ago. Together to the end. Mom got breast cancer and dad heart disease. Thankfully, it was swift for both of them. Mom first and dad two years later.” Stephanie paused. “They had a good run.” She sniffled. Kim fetched a tissue for her.

“You had a brother, didn’t you? Brian, yes?

Stephanie sighed and continued. “Brian, yes. He started university and then dropped out in third year. He and Cindy --- Do you remember her? Girl Scouts?” Kim nodded. “He and Cindy got married. She left him; he cheated on her. Last I heard, she’s doing well. No kids. Then he went got into non-tangibles; made a fortune, smug, lost a fortune, pout. Women but no more wives. One could just sense that from him. Every promising start ended in a dismal finish, women and business. Luck never swung his way.”

“Where is he now?” Kim asked, sipping her tea.

“Washington state, mining Mt. St. Helens, I think. Whatever it is, it won’t work out. It’s frustrating, you know,” Stephanie said twirling her hand above her head, “well, you might not, given all this.” She sipped her tea. “It’s frustrating. Working your entire life for a few years of retirement when you can’t do anything anymore.”

“I would not dare gloat. I was fortunate. Mummy and daddy, you may recall, were not unwealthy. William had the estate coming to him and his parents’ treasures. I had no brothers nor sisters in-law. We travelled extensively. Moonlight under the South African stars. Mornings in the frosty Himalayas. We travelled.”

Kim sipped her tea then put it down. “Please, let me show you around.”

Kim extended a hand to help Stephanie up.

-----000-----

“Only a country home?” Stephanie gasped.

Kim nodded, leading her through the kitchen. “We have, I mean, I have a place just outside Killarney, a Mayfair flat in London, and modest flat overlooking the Parthenon. I really should get rid of it. The market there’s lousy and I’ll take a loss, but I haven’t been there in five years. I’ll probably sell the Irish one too: Brexit.”

Stephanie’s gift tickled her as she toured the house. The Drawing Room. The Dressing Room. The Museum Room. The Dining Room. The Still Room. The house was big. She couldn’t explain the now constant tickle.

“And here’s your bedroom,” Kim said upstairs, opening the wooden door. A bright, magnificent bedroom with a monstrously large four poster bed was before her. Her bags were on the bed.

But her eye had caught the one closed door across the hallway and the brass plate centred on it: “Memories”, it said.

“Later,” Kim said, glancing at it.

AFTER DINNER

“Thank you, Mary. That will be all for tonight. Please thank Charles for me for his picking up Ms. Stephanie at the airport. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Mary left to go to her husband and cottage near the gate on the estate.

“Does your brother still play golf?” Kim asked.

“You remember! Sadly not. His golf scholarship fell through. He had to fight the university about it. They simply told him that the terms of the trust had been revoked. He would’ve gotten a lawyer to fight it but couldn’t afford one. That was one of the several reasons he dropped out. Why do you ask of him?” Stephanie looked slyly at Kim.

“Kim! Did you have a crush on my brother?” she asked playfully.

Kim looked at her glass of cognac and cagily smiled. “I liked him. I really liked him a lot.”

“You were no competition for Cindy though!” Stephanie merrily answered.

Kim’s face was saturnine. “As I said, I really liked him a lot. And then I was separated from him. I called your home from Bern once. I spoke to him. Amongst other things,” she said drily, “he smeared it in my face that he was dating Cindy. So, Brian was gone. That’s what I learnt during that one phone call: that I was forever separated from Brian.”

Kim glared at her cognac.

Stephanie felt uncomfortable. She wanted to change the topic. She did.

-----000-----

“How old is this house?” she asked quickly.

“I think 1627, I think. Rumour has it that it was built on the site of a brothel frequented by the abbey’s monks. If true, then that might explain the happy, ghostly feeling that I frequently encounter here. I haven’t seen one though.”

Stephanie held her glass of sherry up to the light. Beautiful colour. Refined taste.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Kim?”

Kim looked at her.

“Yes, I do to the extent that there are different forces and powers at work in the universe that we do not comprehend yet they exist, nonetheless. Why do you ask?”

Stephanie sipped her sherry. She leaned back in her chair.

“Honestly, ever since I arrived, I have sensed something different about your house. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just that... Well, I sense something different.” She plunked her glass down on the table and reached to take the decanter.

“I’m surprised, Stephanie. How would you sense that?”

Why not? Why not tell Kim? She had lost her powers years ago. The other members of her old coven were dead or afflicted with dementia, a common occurrence amongst witches. She had never told a soul. Hers was a secret to be taken to the grave. But who believes in witches and magic? Sorcery? What could be the harm?

“I was a witch!” she gleefully answered.

“A witch?” Kim exclaimed.

“A witch,” Stephanie answered. She relaxed. Finally. Finally! She had told someone! She felt the relief of being unburdened sweep across her soul. Peace and calm. Tranquility. “Yes, I was a witch.”

Kim stared at her, expressionless.

“I suppose I could say that I never knew.”

“How could you? I never told anyone.

Kim scrunched her face.

“It must have been very difficult for you to keep within you and hidden from all others that you were a witch,” Kim said.

Stephanie looked down at her glass. “I wasn’t a bad witch, not like the Wicked Witch of the West. I dabbled, it would be fair to describe it.”

“What could you do?” Kim leaned forward, elbows on the table, asking the question.

Stephanie waved a hand dismissively. “Move things. Change colours on walls; that was handy whenever we moved. Boil water instantly. Minor things.” She suddenly felt that she had said too much. “But that was long ago. As we witches age, we gradually lose our power. The fairy tale stereotypical old haggard witch is just that: a fairy tale.”

She sighed.

“I can’t even lift a fork now.”

“Had I been a witch,” Kim began, “I don’t know whether I could have kept it a secret. What did you do with your powers? Get better marks at school?” Kim laughed.

Stephanie laughed too. “No. People knew me better than that. B minus to A plus? Unbelievable. So, no. I would do little things, like clean the house before mom and dad got home. That’s all. I’ve told you about my many successes when working. Plainly, my powers didn’t help me much there.

“But,” she said turning toward Kim, “even today, I suppose I still have some of my old charm. And, I swear, the God’s honest truth, Kim, I swear I feel something about this place.”

Kim smiled at her and brushed a crumb off her dress.

“I’m not a witch, Stephanie. Nor a sorcerer nor even a Harry Potter wizard. I’m just me.”

Stephanie’s faintly remaining gift failed to detect any similar gift in Kim. No, Kim was not and had never been a witch.

Kim tilted her head as she next spoke:

“But I do believe in witches.”

“Really?” Stephanie was surprised.

“Really. Indeed, to the conclusion that I would confirm your senses. There are magical wards all over this house and in some places on the estate.”

Stephanie laughed. “Kim! You never fail to amaze me. Look at you and this! This house. These clothes. This dinner. And that dessert! Yet you put magical wards around your house! This is hysterical! Why Earth would you do that?”

Kim paused and looked at her.

An eerie look, Stephanie thought. An unfriendly look.

Danger.

Kim broke into a smile and said, “Come! I’ll show you to that ‘Memories Room’ upstairs and, once you’ve seen enough of it, you can join me out back on the putting green. Don’t worry: you can’t but fail to see me there.”

MEMORIES

The stairs creaked as they went upstairs.

So did the second floor’s planks.

So did the door to the Memories Room as Kim opened it.

The room was quite dark. It seemed large given the faint shadows in its depths. A small desk lamp burned on an impressive desk in its centre. Evening was almost over. What few hints there were of a once blazing sunset barely shone into the room.

“I’ll be out back, in the yard, waiting for you,” Kim tersely said as she walked away and down the creaky stairs.

-----000-----

Stephanie slowly moved toward the desk. It was barren but for a single framed picture. She approached it and bent down to look at the picture.

Her parents’ headstone. Dunrobin Cemetery. Back home. She recoiled at the sight of it. Why would Kim have such a picture? Kim hadn’t been that close to them.

She hastened back toward the door and flung her hands at the wall looking for a light switch. She found one and turned it on. Bright lights.

She spun around to better view the room. It was indeed a spacious room. Oak floors. Oak wall panels. Oak ceiling panels. A dark Jacobean stain throughout. That impressive desk and its lamp. Her eyes caught the shiny reflections on the walls. Pictures. Scrolls. Letters. All framed. She approached the west wall. Nearing it, she began to discern the dozens of details in the innumerable frames.

A letter confirming Moonstone’s purchase of Demeter Enterprises. Stephanie had worked there! She squinted at the text: “...confirming the dissolution of the company...”

She shuffled a bit to the right to examine the next frame: a letter from a law firm confirming that Moonstone’s share of Gigametals’ dissolved pension fund was $316,863,872. Paul’s old company!

She moved to the right again. A picture of her brother Brian and Cindy; it looked like it was taken shortly after their wedding. Yet it was not an official wedding picture per se. It seemed to have been taken surreptitiously from a road.

And next to it was an equally sized picture of Brian and a young, flighty looking woman in a rancid bar. Yes, that was her; that was that other woman. A daring bodycon dress and stupendously high heels, all capped off with excessive shadowy makeup and monstrous implants.

And next to that was a similarly sized picture of that bimbo and Kim, say, in her early thirties. Both of them smiling.

Stephanie hastened to the north wall. More pictures. More letters. Corporate seals. Merger and acquisition documents. Moonstone took over Blanding’s Hardware chain; Steve had been a manager there until it shuttered!

A posed photo of Trevor and his mistress, another blonde bombshell bimbo. A Moonstone document confirming its intentions to amalgamate Everest Steel with its Chinese operations and ship all production overseas; Paul had loved working for Everest!

Further along the wall she noticed the copies of employment contracts. David’s was with Moonstone carrying on business as Tatoi Acumen in Mumbai. She read it carefully and read a clause stating, “...‘just cause’ includes travel outside India, other than to attend the funeral of a next of kin, as defined in paragraph 17(6) and as designated by the employee on Form 326-F...”

It didn’t take Stephanie long --- she was racing now --- to find a similar one for Gina and her employment in Singapore. Again, a “no travel” clause. Again Moonstone.

A law firm’s statement to State University insisting that its golf scholarship be cancelled immediately: Brian’s scholarship! Pictures of her and her husbands shortly before the ruin of their respective marriages to her.

Her heart pounded louder and harder than it had in years. And faster and sharper the conclusion formed in her mind. It couldn’t be!

Almost every single ‘down’ she and her family had suffered in life: evidence of every single one here in this room. And etched somewhere in every shred of evidence was one name:

Moonstone.

In one of the corners and away from any other frames and lined up in a column were two pictures and one document. Breathless and stunned, Stephanie walked toward them. This is what she saw:

A picture of her, probably about 15 years old, with Brian and Kim. She remembered that day at Lazy Pond. Swimming. Tanning. Laughing. The timer had worked after several tries. A warm day. A fun day.

A picture of her and her brother, his recently acquired but well-used and rusty Toyota behind them. This was taken just before his 40th birthday. That’s when he could finally buy that car! She looked a tired 39. He looked a worn out 40. The picture had been taken without their knowledge.

She raised her head to look at the highest frame.

A document dated 50 years ago. Letters patent organizing a UK corporation, a privately held corporation.

---Name: Moonstone Limited.

---Chair: Ms. Kim Jennings, Countess of Scarfolk.

---Managing Director: Ms. Kim Jennings, Countess of Scarfolk.

---Shareholders: Ms. Kim Jennings, Countess of Scarfolk.

PUTTING

Stephanie opened the backdoor and headed to the lit area in the distance. The grass under her feet held the evening dew. As she approached, she saw Kim bent over with a putter in her hand. It was a small practice green. Several balls were strewn around it.

Stephanie stood in the fringe. She waited for Kim to take her putt.

Ping. Clunk. She sunk it.

“Why?” Stephanie asked.

“Why not?” Kim replied, bending over to remove the ball from the hole. She threw it to the far side of the green.

“What did I ever do to you?”

Kim turned to face her. They stood about five metres apart.

“Whatever do you mean, my dearest Stephanie?”

“Moonstone. Every place I ever worked, where my husbands worked. Moonstone.”

Kim studied her next ball and accordingly lined herself up with the hole. She bent over to putt.

“Just desserts.”

Ping. Clunk. She sank the ball.

“My children?”

“Moonstone never harmed them, my dear. They’ve been and are well employed and well off.”

“Brian?”

Kim got her ball and lobbed it to the far side of the green. She strolled over to it and considered her next putt.

“Yes. You and Brian. Just desserts.”

“Why?”

Kim missed; the ball rolled slightly to the right of the hole. Her distance was good, however.

“Damn,” she said.

Stephanie felt exposed. In the dark. On a large estate. Surrounded by darkness but for the three bright lights daylighting the green. There was a chill in the air now, a dampness too.

“You’re a witch. Stephanie. Surely you can sense the reason why?”

“No. I can’t. As I told you, my powers faded. Your wards would have prevented me anyway.”

Kim stood and moved away from her next ball. She held the putter in both hands and drifted toward Stephanie.

“Did you ever tell anyone that you were a witch?”

“No.”

“Think again,” Kim said moving back to address her ball.

“Other witches.”

“No, not them. Anyone else?” Kim asked as she putted.

Ping. Clunk.

Stephanie racked her mind. Yes, she had told one other person. More specifically, she had confirmed that person’s accusation that she was a witch: Brian.

“Brian confronted me. He had seen me in the basement, naked, in a pentagram. I threatened to turn him into a squirrel if he ever told anyone.”

“No, you didn’t make that threat.”

Stephanie reeled at that. Then she thought about it some more. Kim was right; Stephanie hadn’t threatened her brother.

Ping. Clunk.

“And how did you gain his silence? I doubt that you’d have wanted such a credential widely known.”

Stephanie quickly remembered. Brian had wanted to get to know Cindy better and to understand why she would not date him. To that end and in exchange for his silence, Stephanie had transformed Brian into a copy of Kim. And, as a copy of Kim, Brian had hung around with Stephanie, Cindy, and others for a weekend. He had learnt a great deal. Once transformed back into Brian, he had moved swiftly and skillfully to date Cindy.

Obviously, Stephanie couldn’t tell that to the actual Kim right now.

“Brian was a jerk sometimes, but he was a pretty good brother. He promised to keep his silence. I believed him.”

Kim stood out of her next putt and stared at Stephanie.

“Liar,” she said flatly. “I know about witches, Stephanie. Can’t you feel the wards even here?”

Stephanie could. Even if she still had her powers, they would be useless here. Perhaps honesty would be the best course here.

“He wanted to know how to date Cindy. I changed him into a girl, stored his body in a photograph, and let him hang with us one weekend. Then I changed him back.”

“Whom?”

“Whom what?”

Kim sighed in exasperation.

“You changed him into whom?”

Tired, weakened by the sherry, and frankly on the cusp of realizing that a lifespan has a limit and that hers was creeping towards her faster than ever before, Stephanie told the truth:

“I changed him into a copy of you,” she weakly muttered.

Kim stood motionless.

“It was only for the weekend. I’m sorry.” She sniffled. “I didn’t think that he did anything to ruin your life. It strikes me that your life turned out pretty good.”

Kim slowly nodded. She turned back to her putter, her ball, and her hole.

“How do you get along with him these days?”

Ping. Clunk.

“Not great. We were fairly close before. Once he discovered how to get into Cindy’s panties, we were never as close. Boys. Then he entered his vagabond phase. I hardly see him anymore. I wish him well. I take comfort knowing that I gave him a better understanding of women. I am saddened knowing that he apparently forgot the benefits of that experience.”

Kim laughed uproariously.

“I’m not lying!”

“Yes, you are. I told you that I called your house once after I got to Bern. I spoke to your brother,” she said that last word with a hiss, “and he told me what the two of you had done.”

“But you were away! Nothing bad happened to you or your name! And why would he tell you? I never would have let him do anything bad to you! You were my friend!”

“Friends don’t fuck over friends,” Kim sharply replied and turned to her next ball.

“And sisters don’t fuck over their brothers,” she acidly added.

Ping. Clunk.

Stephanie objected. “I didn’t fuck him over, as you put it.” Defiance coloured her voice.

Kim stepped over her putting line and walked toward Stephanie.

“You most certainly did. Tell me, my dearest Stephanie, as a teenager, what did you give him for a Christmas gift? Any Christmas? Name one gift.”

“A Ping putter. He was on the school team. He had said that---”

Kim interrupted her. “How old was he?”

“I don’t know. Thirteen. Fourteen.”

“Before you changed him?”

Stephanie nodded.

“That Christmas, he gave you your first iPhone, a used one. He knew how much you wanted one.”

The certainty in Kim’s voice shook Stephanie who fondly remembered that iPhone.

“Kim, why do you remember that?”

Ping. Clunk.

Silence.

-----000-----

“Kim, did you have a crush on my brother? Did you somehow think that I used spells to take him away from you? I never knew that you wanted him, let alone even liked him.”

Kim stared at Stephanie. A few moments passed. The North Star blinked through the clouds. She pursed her lips before speaking.

“I really liked Brian. He was a nice guy. Friends. Sports. A promising golf future at university and beyond. He liked living at home. He loved his family, even you. He was a bit cautious around you because he knew you were a witch. And the one time --- the one and only time --- he asked you to use your witchcraft to aid him so indirectly in pursuing a girl that he liked, you fucked him over.”

Stephanie was at a loss for words.

“I don’t understand. You created Moonstone to screw me and my family for decades because of some thwarted teenage crush of yours? You’ve messed with my life and other peoples’ lives because of something that never harmed you? What sort of lunacy is this?” She spoke these words with increasing venom.

Kim gracefully stormed as best nobility could toward Stephanie and drew to within one foot of her. She stared her in the face. Anger was her mood and twisted was her face.

She shouted at Stephanie:

“You never changed me back!!!”

Stunned, Stephanie mustered the only reply she could: “Kim, I never changed you.”

Kim snarled at her. “Listen to me, you duplicitous witch! You never changed me back! I got knocked out in a bathroom stall that night we went out and got picked up by the police in an alley. Kim’s parents the next day shipped me off to Switzerland! I tried to phone and phone to get a hold of you, to beg you to switch me back!

“But your fucking fake brother Kim told me that the two of you had plotted this! You wanted to have your friend Kim as your brother. You wanted me, your own pain in the ass jerk brother, gone, out of the way!

“Did you ever clue in that he wasn’t me anymore? Did you even think to see if my behaviour had changed, that your sorcery had any unexpected lasting effects? Did you do anything that would indicate the ever-slightest amount of responsibility for your power?

“NO!!! You NEVER did!!!” Kim shrieked.

Stephanie’s jaw dropped. She could not have made such a mistake. She never would have done that to Brian. He had been an okay brother, never really mean to her. In fact, he had been polite and unobtrusive around her. She wouldn’t have hurt him. She couldn’t have hurt him.

But she had.

And now she knew she had.

And now she knew why Moonstone had been in her life --- and in “Brian’s” life.

And now she knew that she was powerless to correct her unknown mistake.

SLUMBERLAND

Stephanie sat on her bed in the First Guest bedroom. She had unpacked her clothes and arranged her toiletries in the bathroom. The drapes were drawn. The bed was ready.

How much of her life had been altered by her mistake? How many people had to live with the consequences of her negligence of decades ago?

Her witchcraft had dazzled her for most of her life; it had surprised a few others, not knowing why a tablecloth would change colour or a television would change channels unexpectedly. These had been little games. They had been innocently funny, amusing to her.

Yet this one little game that she had long ago played with Brian --- the real Brian, her true brother --- had ended disastrously, though she knew it not at the time.

She mulled her options as her conscience ripped her apart.

-----000-----

“I’m sorry, Brian,” she had said to him on the green.

“I’ll never believe you, and as my life draws to a close, I wanted you to know that I would never forgive you. And that’s why you’re here,” he had replied, shoving his TaylorMade putter in his bag, along with the balls.

“And now, Stephanie, my former sister, there’s no reason for you to be here.”

With those words, her true brother walked away and faded into the darkness of the estate.

-----000-----

Stephanie rose to open the drapes. The moonlight cast its silver into the ancient room.

Yes, here, near the old battlefield, whereupon so many had once died.

Yes, here, where it was likely expected by her host that it would occur.

She glanced at her vial of sleeping pills on her nightstand. Her mind wandered. Her parents. Trevor. Paul. Steve. All waiting for her on the other side.

She decided that she should join them now.

END

By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2022