It all started with a little glass bottle, but the joke got way out of hand...At the alter, the prist says he will not unite Shannon and her intended because it is said that she has cursed people. Has Shannon lost her beloved forever? Find out in this short story.
Shannon’s ears still rang with the gasps of horror as the priest pronounced their marriage doomed because she had practiced witchcraft. She now knew how the falsely accused in Salem must have felt.
The damp chill wind tore at her veil and whipped her wedding gown around her
waist, adding a final degradation to her battered soul. She felt as if the
impending storm knew how desperate she felt. What had started as a joke had
gone horribly wrong
The departing guests formed a head-shaking, back patting parade. The minute they passed her, they clustered together like gossiping grapes.
It wasn’t my fault, she wanted to yell, but nobody would believe her.
Another gust made her think the Gods were telling her: Yes, it WAS your
fault, Shannon.”
Jason came out flanked by his best man and his keening mother. Shannon ran
toward him. Mrs. Beasley crossed herself and covered her eyes. “Don't look at her. She’ll give you the evil eye!”
Shannon almost laughed. She caught Jason’s eye and tried to read his
expression. His mother shoved him into the car, breaking their gaze. She
called out Jason’s name. Trees jounced in the gust of wind that swallowed
her weak, pleading, “I love you” as the car drove away.
Julie came out of the church with Father Ryan. Through the throes of the
gathering storm, Shannon heard him say “terrible.” He shot a fear-tinged
look at her. Julie rushed over and embraced her tightly. She smelled of
cheap hair spray and Jean Nate. Not a good combination. “I’m sure this will
all blow over.”
Ironic word choice. The three of them had been friends for years. And Since
Shannon’s best friend was commissioned to Iraq, Julie had stepped in as maid
of honor. Julie did the model's catwalk strut to her car, tossed the lily bouquet into the bushes and drove away.
Shannon’s wind-blown emotions fought for attention. She could not decide
whether she was more stunned, indignant, hurt, angry or depressed. Each emotion took its turn. It had meant so much to Jason for them to marry in his church, and now she had lost the man who put a song in her heart all because of a palm-sized black glass bottle. Maybe she could make him understand, but even if she did, who in the small town would ever speak to them?
Humidity weighed down the atmosphere. Shannon’s heaviness of spirit pushed
on her chest. What to do? Where to go? Home? To Jason? Oh how she wished Amy
was here. Practical Amy would say, “Pull it together, toots. There has to be a pony somewhere in this dung heap.”
Shannon laughed despite her esolation. The first step of a plan formed:
Throw the accursed bottle into the ocean. The sea always calmed her, so
maybe the rest of the plan would form once she got that far.
Not taking time to change, she retrieved the little “Curse in a Bottle” from the Salem Witch Museum store. She had given it to her hair stylist, saying, “You can use this on me the next time I do something stupid to my hair without consulting you.” Fran mailed it back to her. The note read, “I could never curse anyone.” Inspectors closed the shop down for improper storage of hazardous chemicals.
Next, she sent it to Jason’s sister in customer “service,” with the note,
“For when you hate your customers,” which was a daily occurrence. Penni sent it back. “Don’t tempt me to use this evil thing.” She got laid off the same day
Shannon next sent it to Holly after a break-up with the note, “Hell hath no
fury like a woman scorned.” Though meant in pure fun, Holly returned it. “I had such evil thoughts of what I should do to him that I hated myself.”
Shortly thereafter, her ex had a bad surfing accident that left him
paralyzed.
Now the bottle sat on the seat beside her, still wrapped, awaiting its final
adventure. The sky lowered and distant thunder rumbled as she drove to the
ocean. Common sense told her to wait until after the storm, but what sense
could there be on a day like this? What if the bottle really did have a
curse in it and Shannon kept spreading it around? Maybe if she destroyed it,
she could get her life back.
She stood on the rocky shore, her bridal gown whipping around her legs. The buoy bells heralded the encroaching nor’easter in a twisted mockery of the bells that should have announced her marriage with Jason. The hollow clang reflected her heart just as the roiling sea mirrored her emotions.
She held the bottle in her trembling hand and drew back her arm, ready to
throw. Facing the storm, she yelled, “I declare an end to this chain of misfortune!” The little card from the museum shop caught the wind, and she nearly lost her grip on the bottle. The smell of cheap hair spray and Jean Nate caught her attention.
Only one person marinated in Jean Nate and hair spray: Julie. It occurred to
her that Julie and Jason had dated all through high school. He had a couple
of other girlfriends before Shannon, but maybe Julie thought she was
stealing HER man. Better not destroy the bottle, she decided, because now it
was evidence. But could things ever be right again?
Rain began to fall as the first tear finally rolled down her cheek. She
thought she heard someone call her name. It must be wishful thinking and a
trick of the wind.
“Shannon!” She turned to see Jason, still in his tux, reaching out to her.
Unable to speak or breathe, she looked at him, wondering what he would say.
Thunder boomed and wind gusted. He yelled, “I do!”
Angela Calminetti, mother of five, New Age practitioner and gifted psychic and telepath, is proud of her family ties and does everything she can to make sure that all of her younger siblings are as happy in love and marriage as she is…whether they wa
Who knew the Wright's had a trunk full of hidden family secrets? Searching for treasure and hidden family secrets is one way to fuel the flames of passion.
