Page 29 of Witchy Chick

I poked the leaves, brushing them back, and then I saw the glint of white bone. Okay. Very dead then. Like old dead. I brushed more leaves and found patches of fur on the remains. Too big for a squirrel. That head was shaped almost like a cat, definitely a carnivore, but not quite right. A fox? I liked foxes.

I knelt beside the bones and opened the book, shining my flashlight on it and looking through my Latin translate app.

Incantation to bring bones to life. For creating flesh out of vines and flowers check following layout. It requires more preparation with herbs, chemicals, and your own blood.

I turned the page and saw an elaborate design hand drawn in slightly smudged ink. The list of ingredients was interesting. Ligaments? Fun. I’d have to get to know a butcher if I wanted to do that kind of thing. Definitely wasn’t interested in that tonight. I flipped back to the first page.

The incantation was pretty basic.

I call these bones to life,

once, twice, thrice,

to do my will in shadows spoken,

to do my will once awoken.

It was good to reiterate that. Was awoken a word?

The darkness brings you to my aide.

Until the debt, all is paid.

What debt? It didn’t specify. Should I go back to the house and sleep? I wasn’t tired. I could dust something. Or wash the windows. In the dark.

I stretched out my hand, hovering over the bones. “I call these bones to life,” I whispered. I sounded like an idiot. I looked like an idiot, like a pretender. But Sage had dyed her hair because she thought I looked like a witch, and I was wearing this ridiculous witchy outfit saying this ridiculous incantation.

I straightened up and threw back my cape so it rippled in the wind. If we were playing this part, I should do it with style.

“I call these bones to life!” I announced then remembered I was supposed to say it in Latin. I didn’t know how to pronounce Latin. It was stupid. What difference did it make what language it was in? I’d just go ahead with it.

“Once, twice, thrice.”

Seriously, should I do this in Latin? But I had no idea how to pronounce it, and that one movie with the kid witches were really particular about pronunciation. And I didn’t actually want to bring anything to life. I was just… What was I doing?

“To do my will in shadows spoken, all my will once awoken.” Did I miss some words? And was awoken a word? Did my translate app know how to do incantations? Seemed like it would require a specialty developer.

I looked down at the book because I’d forgotten the last lines. Oh, there I was.

“The darkness brings you—” And then the ground beneath my feet split open, and I fell into the suddenly soft earth to my knees, dropping my phone as I swung my hand out to try and catch my balance.

It was suddenly dark in the cemetery, but the moon came out from behind a cloud, shining on my alligator-cover book. I gripped it in two hands and stared at the squiggly Latin letters. I definitely needed to learn Latin before I tried to do incantations.

And then the earth heaved, and I sank into soil that wanted to swallow me.

I kicked and clawed, grabbing at a headstone and pulling myself out of the heaving grave. I climbed on top of the stone marker, heart in my throat as I stared across the moonlit cemetery, every grave rocking in the earthquake. And then moonlight reflected off white bones coming out of the dirt, hands stretching, bones clicking, as the entire cemetery came to life.

“I should definitely have learned the spell that put the dead to rest before I experimented with raising,” I said to no one in particular. Courage was synonymous with stupidity. Courage was banned in my tea cupboard from now until forever.

A clacking of teeth to my left, right by my ear, had me slowly turning my head. The fox bones were sitting on my shoulder. It wrapped its bone tail around my throat, and then I lost it.

I screamed and screamed and screamed. When I stopped to take a breath, I realized that I’d successfully gotten the attention of all the skeletons and they were now moving slowly towards me.

I was going to die! The grimoire did me absolutely no good without my phone’s translation app. ‘She was too stupid to live’ would be engraved on my tombstone.

I frantically searched the cemetery for my phone, but every direction had skeletons coming towards me, jaws clacking, fingers clicking, closer and closer.

I tried to get the tail off my throat but only cut my fingers on the bones. The fox snapped its teeth at me, and my pointy boot slipped off the headstone. I toppled backwards. The dirt was soft enough that it didn’t kill me when I hit the ground, but I definitely threw out my back.