17. A PROTECTION SPELL
A PROTECTION SPELL
Olivia wants to cast a protection spell.
She overheard Rebecca on the phone, talking to a client.
If you protect your heart, your mind and soul will be protected too.
Do not let that woman steal your energy.
Olivia imagined energy as fireflies zipping around someone’s body with golden light.
The energy thief, a shadowy frog with a ridiculous and long slimy tongue.
A gluttonous beast with the intention of a demon.
In her eavesdropping, Olivia overheard ingredients and kept mental notes.
Rosemary. Rose oil. Eucalyptus. Salt. A black candle.
A bay leaf. Imagine a white light of protection around you.
Let it envelope you. Olivia imagined herself as a mummy with glowing cloth covering the entirety of her body.
She listened in on more phone calls with bated breath.
Spells are about intention. Spells are about what has settled into your heart.
Olivia wants protection from her mother.
Specifically, an energetic shield of protection for her own heart.
Alchemy could help her take matters into her own hands.
She’s never fallen in love with another person, but she understands the numbing sensation of heartbreak.
There's a hollow echo in her chest from yearning to be understood. Sometimes, when Isela dozed off on the couch, Olivia watched her sleeping, wondering what she dreamed about. What goes on in her head? What really goes on in there? Her mother reminded her of a thunderstorm. Soothing and frightening at the same time. Olivia often wondered if Isela loved her. Does her mother feel softness for her? Why does the air around her mother feel so heavy all the time? Why is Olivia’s urge to run away?
To disappear? Why did it hurt when she thought about Isela?
Who was this strange person who made her feel as though everything was her fault?
Isela's words were venom inside of Olivia's head. Her mother was a source of heartache.
Olivia finds an old baby food jar and collects her ingredients inside.
She takes pink rose petals from the garden.
She uses ten petals for her age. She gathers two acorns from the oaks and thanks the trees.
She washes and dries eggshells in the sun and crumbles them into the jar.
She adds a spoonful of salt. She knows better than to write anything as evidence, so she whispers into the jar, Please protect my heart.
Protect me from those who wish to do me harm.
Protect me until I can finally run. She imagines her words as neon pink, filling up the jar like liquid.
She seals the jar and envisions a dandelion yellow light leading her through the forest to the jar’s burial spot.
When she finds the spot, she digs with her hands until they cramp.
She takes some of the dirt and rubs it into her face and hair.
She rubs her arms with the dirt and sobs as she places the jar under the earth.
When she gets home, she runs a hot shower and rinses off the dirt.
She visualizes the dirt as all of the words her mother uses that make her feel unwanted and unloved.
The words fall off and circle down the drain.
She imagines the dirt writing a letter under the earth asking for roots of a rotting tree to take her mother and keep her under so she can rot too.
Olivia shakes out these thoughts and pictures the roots of ancient oak trees taking her under instead, then showing her the candescent core of the earth and launching her through.
On the other side, there’s safety. Another world.
Another dimension. A place where she will never have to see her mother again.