A Familiar Calling - by T. Crosby (500 words)
The thousand-year-old incantation flowed smoothly from her lips. Young Mystic knew summoning the dead was wrong, but she wanted answers.
Not until the cool night air turned strangely warm did she open her eyes to see mist forming a mini tornado in front of her. Did it work?
“No.” said a softly feminine voice.
As the voice spoke, the swirling air settled into the ground leaving a vision of ethereal beauty in its place.
“Who are you?” Mystic demanded.
“Don’t you recognise me child? Ah well, I forget your age sometimes. What is it you’re so desperate to know that you’d break the rules for?”
“What did you do to her?”
The spirit smiled wistfully, “I’d forgotten how like her you are.” She collected herself, “You’re mom is with us of course, but rules can’t be bent, not even for daughters. I’m here, so ask. ”
Mystic eyed the strange woman, pausing only when she met her eyes. They were mesmerizing pools of peace and whimsy. The angel, for surely she was, snapped her out her stupor by looking away from her for a moment. Even without the full strength of her gaze Mystic felt residual warmth on her skin and her worry for her mother lifted.
“I want to know what to do. When mom died, my powers increased so much I can barely control it. The other day I set the cats tail on fire just by glancing at it! I haven’t left the house in days. Grams is trying her best to help but she says she’s not strong enough.” Mystic babbled on, relieved to let it out. “Calling mom was my last hope. I have no father, no mother, and, I’m – so lonely.” Tears flowed over her cheeks and off her chin. The angel opened her arms to Mystic and hugged her tightly.
“There now, fear not. The instant your mothers soul left her body her powers became yours and mixed with your own. You’re strength was not predicted. Did you know that until she had you she was the last of your kind in this world? Now you are the last, but never alone.” She said kissing the top of Mystics purple and red braids. “Your mentor will be here at first light, off you go. Give Mevina my regards won’t you?”
Mystic walked the short path to her Grandmother’s cottage to find that even at this late hour Gram was waiting for her.
“How’d it go?” she asked with a twinkle.
Mystic sighed and kissed her Gram goodnight. “The angel sends her regards. Only she called you Mevina. Weird huh?” A sudden tear slid down her Grams cherubian cheek. “Grams?”
“I’m fine dear, it’s just that, well she was the original you see. The one your mother named your Familiar after.”
Magda? Thought Mystic tiredly as she crashed into bed, narrowly missing the gingery cat with the slightly singed tail stretched across her pillow.
It’s Magdalene you dolt thought the cat.