Photo: Author
Welcome to the first fiction published on Only Child Originals! It’s not only this publication’s debut story, The Appearance of Magic is also an entry in the short story category of the Season Five. I’m excited for you to feast your eyes on this dark little story inspired by the real inscription on the walls of Scribe Winery in Sonoma. Light a candle, pour yourself a glass, and enjoy this witchy tale.
Lily climbed the small wooden ladder leaning precariously against the wall, the bright light of a mid-spring sun illuminating her work. She slipped a paintbrush between her teeth and clutched her palette in one hand while her other supported her wobbly ascent.
Her work in the sprawling country home of Lady Lawness was almost done.
It had been a near thing. She’d made a promise to her patroness that the painted incantation would be finished before the sun set on the eve of Beltane, and there were times over the last month where she’d thought better of that vow.
This project, like most, was hampered by unforeseen circumstances, difficulties with her materials and the distraction of a demanding client.
First there’d been the matter of the paint which began, inauspiciously, with an incident on the way to Lady Lawness’s estate involving a ruffian in the dark. Lily had managed to come out on top of that particular situation. She was tougher than she first appeared. But her supply of the enchanted stones necessary for the paint’s pigment had been lost to the moonless night.
It’d taken a little negotiating, but Lady Lawness was wealthy enough to sacrifice the malachite and amber Lily needed to replace the pigment. Lily would come out of the whole project with a few less coins, but the silver was more of a happy side effect of her work anyway.
Imbuing the newly procured stones with potential had been a bit trickier. Lily was resourceful though, and she’d made due. It’d meant dipping into her own supply of power more than she liked. But the expenditure was worth it.
The truth was Lily couldn’t have hoped for a better client this close to the fire festival, and the outlay of a little extra energy was a small price to pay. She could recoup what she’d lost and then some from the woman soon enough. For beneath Lady Lawness’s jaded exterior, there was a heart yearning to believe.
As for the calendula oil, Lily sent up a silent prayer that the little wax-covered pots she’d squirreled away in an inner pocket of her skirt had stayed intact during her tussle with the hapless marauder from the high road. The oil base for the pigments would have proved much more difficult to replace, having come from a bountiful summer harvest of the flame-colored flowers she’d fostered from seedlings.
So it was with gratitude, all things considered, that Lily mixed the pigment and the oil for the last time, making her movements precise, her purpose clear. Concentrating was complicated by the promise of a distant Beltane fire that burned tantalizingly in her mind’s eye, but this last batch of grey-green color needed to be just as potent as the first. She refocused, carefully measuring out the ingredients and performing the exact motions as though her palette contained the elixir of life.
Which, come to think of it, wasn’t so far from the truth.
Lily pushed that thought and any lingering visions of the fire from her head. If she dwelled upon those mental images for too long her hands would shake, and the paint application had to be precise.
Gods knew the letters themselves had been almost as much trouble as the paint. She’d rendered them in a sharp but readable Medieval script, simplifying it as much as possible without losing the Gothic effect. Even so, the letters curved into sharp points or sported spiderweb-lines between serifs that required a deft hand.
On the top step of the stool now, Lily paused to steady her breath and cleared her head. It was always better to begin with calm, holding the intention of her work foremost in her mind.
She dipped the end of her brush in the paint and was just about to put the first stroke of this last day onto the wall when a small sound drew her attention to the doorway.
Her patroness, tall and bony, filled the doorway to the hall. Lily wondered for perhaps the hundredth time how so slight a human could take up so much space. But the lady was formidable, with a stern countenance and a demeanor that made even the most innocent and honorable aware of their moral failings.
Lily allowed herself a small sigh before turning to face the Lady Lawness, fixing her face into a suitably obsequious expression.
“Happy May Day to you, Lady,” Lily said with a small dip of her head.
“Happy,” Lady Lawness said with a sniff. “I see little happy about it, girl. Your work still looks days from completion.”
“Ah, but there the Lady is mistaken,” Lily replied, willing a small tremble into her voice for effect. “There are but a few letters left, and I have a swift hand. The work will be done by sunset, if not before.”
Lady Lawness cast an appraising eye over the walls of the room. It was nothing too grand so far as dining rooms were concerned. Lily had been in more than a few cavernous halls in her time working for other patrons, yet it far exceeded in both size and decoration anything within many miles of the manor.
The walls were half dark-wood paneling and half simple light yellow plaster with a forest green band running around the room just below the coffee-colored beams of the coffered ceiling.
It was within this green band that Lily worked. She was pleased thus far with the effect of her painted prose. The spell should be applied to the wall in the same way it would be spoken. So she’d spaced the letters of her incantation at regular intervals, ensuring they ran around all four walls with an even cadence. The effect was uncomplicated but undeniably alluring.
It suited the room well, as though the space had been made to hold Lily’s words. That feeling of rightness made the spell more powerful and was part of the reason Lily’s work was in demand among the gentry. She always ensured her work was beautiful as well as powerful.
Esthetics mattered. Lily understood that more than most. She’d spent decades perfecting this particular version of herself.
She was plain but not what most would consider ugly. Her face, her hair, the turn of her arms and the curve of her waist were similarly unexceptional. All together she might have been little more than a girl or nearly reaching middle age. It was impossible to tell. So ordinary was her appearance that it was exceedingly easy to forget and almost impossible to describe with any accuracy.
Indeed, her looks were nothing special by design. It was her name that played on the lips of the people who mattered and that was easy enough to change when needed.
Not that she particularly enjoyed slinking through the world wearing this commonplace costume. She fantasized sometimes about how their eyes would burn and their brains run to mush if they ever beheld her true self. It was all made easier to know on a bone-deep level that, should she desire, Lily could curse them for all eternity.
However, melted organs and everlasting hexes tended to be bad for business.
So Lily practiced patience, no small feat for a creature of her kind. She would keep her head down and carry on casting her lovely spells for ugly people. And with every word she inscribed upon their walls, it was her power that expanded.
Because at heart, Lily was a thief.
She didn’t bother with the gilded baubles and glinting jewelry of her employers, although these would have been easy enough to spirit away.
Lily thirsted for something much more valuable.
“I need not remind you,” Lady Lawness intoned, breaking into Lily’s revelry, “that your payment depends on the completion of this work at the agreed upon hour and not a second later.”
“Of course, Lady,” Lily replied keeping her eyes down. Better to demure, acquiesce.
They never suspected a thing from someone like her.
“Very well,” Lady Lawness said on a sigh. “I shan’t detain you any longer.”
And with that she turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving Lily alone to her work.
Lily put brush to palette once more, gingerly coating the tip with just enough paint to trace the outline of the letter T in front of her. Once the skeleton of it was applied, she filled the inside with wide strokes, ensuring that no trace of brushwork was apparent.
Happy with her work, she moved on to the next letter and repeated the process, stopping only to mix more paint when her palette ran dry. She moved with the shifting light, following its progress across the wall, and by the time the yellow rays turned golden, she lifted her brush from the wall for the last time.
The incantation was complete.
Lily lowered herself to the floor and turned slowly about the room admiring her work. Her standards were always high, but she had to admit that the effect her painting had on this room was particularly agreeable.
She set about tidying away her supplies, wiping her palette and brushes clean and tucking them into her work basket alongside the precious pots of leftover oil and pigment. Lady Lawness may have some claim over these last ones, given her contribution of the stones, but the powders would surely only moulder in some forgotten cabinet if she left them behind. The color was useless to anyone that didn’t understand its real worth.
By the time she was finished, the glow of the sun had all but disappeared over the horizon. But there was another glow, a far-flung fire, that pulled at her bones.
“You’re done.” Lady Lawness had returned. She sounded relieved, maybe even a little impressed, but of course, she kept that bit to herself. No need for undue praise lest Lily think she was somehow entitled to more than the agreed upon amount.
“I am, Lady. The spell is finished, writ in pigments imbued with power, finished at sunset on Beltane by my practiced hand. The magic in it is strong.”
“Good, good,” the Lady muttered, her eyes already sparkling with the thought of all that potential painted into her walls.
Lily smiled. It might have been the smile of someone happy to have made good on a promise to a benefactor or simply someone gratified by a job well done. And maybe there was a bit of that. But she smiled mostly at the folly of humans. Their naiveté could always be counted on.
Lady Lawness really believed the incantation was for her. And maybe that was enough to satisfy the old woman’s secret yearnings. Lily had found over the centuries that belief was half the battle when it came to convincing her patrons of a spell’s effectiveness.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Lily said, and she sidled past Lady Lawness who held out a pouch of coins absentmindedly. Lily took it from her outstretched hand and slipped it into her basket. The coins jingled as she strode out into the gloaming.
The money was just another piece of camouflage. It helped her keep up the pretense of normalcy. She had a house, and clothes, and other things that gave the impression of an ordinary woman with some extra-ordinary talents.
Some called her a witch, others an enchantress. Whatever they called her it hardly mattered. None of them knew the truth.
As she strode forward into the gathering dark she hungered for the glow of the fire she’d felt earlier. She focused her attention on it, each step bringing her closer to that world beyond. She crossed the wide glen fronting the Lady’s home and, reaching the tree line, stepped with purpose into the darkness.
Once there, she threw away the basket and her clothes. They would be there for her when she returned. She pulled her hair free of the ribbon and pins that held it in place, letting her long tresses free.
Then she ran.
She ran and leaped and bounded through the darkness shedding every pretense she was made to wear until finally she was her true, terrible self once more.
She ran, the velvet darkness caressing her, until she finally saw it: the fire in the never-ending night.
At first it was just a glint on the obsidian surface of the gloom. But as she increased her pace, the flames grew larger. Finally she stopped before a great roaring inferno. The others were already there, dancing in an intricate circle around the pyre. She wanted to join them, to throw herself into their number with reckless abandon.
But first she needed the energy.
She called upon every spell she’d created, drawing upon the humans that lived and breathed within the walls stamped with her work.
Lady Lawness would feel it now, just a little tug, a pull on her from somewhere deep within. She’d turn a bit pale and lightheaded. Nothing too serious, certainly. She’d go to bed early and wake up tomorrow feeling better. But a little piece of her would be gone forever.
It would have slipped from her freshly painted walls to float on the Beltane breeze, joining the wisps of so many others with similar spells gracing their homes.
And Lily would drink them all in, feasting on the hopes, wishes, dreams, and desires harvested from a century’s worth of paint and pigment.
Then, she’d dance.