Teetering Between: A Short Story

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Chapter 1

Tara sat meditating trying so desperately to clear her mind. This time she would go through all the motions. She didn’t normally like meditation, but she would not allow herself to skip this step. Many sources said it was, in fact, the most crucial step of all. Today everything had to be exact. She was desperate. She’d promised herself this would be her last attempt, and she was not the sort to ever break her promises. But she’d be damned if she let her final attempt be messed up by bad preparation.

Tara, for the most part, was just an average junior in high school living a happy normal teenage life. She had a boyfriend, a best friend, a sport, and loads of homework. Speaking of which she would need to get to doing soon, but not yet. First and foremost she would try the spell one more time.

She’d never been as hopeful as she was now. Maybe it was simply because this was the last attempt she could pour her hope into. Maybe it was because she genuinely felt something was different. Nevertheless her passion for what she was doing was the highest it has ever been.

Her family wasn’t home, they had no clue Tara was into this sort of thing. They would never approve. Sometimes Tara even wondered if she approved of herself. She knew that if this failed she could continue her life. She knew she would be happy. She’d finish high school with a good GPA, go to a decent college, get married, have kids, and pour her love into them like this had never happened. She would forget about this eventually and it would just blur into the desperate crazy high school days until it was as indistinguishable as a single blade of grass.

Tara couldn’t let herself live such a normal life until she knew that there was no other option. Until she was positive there was no hidden lifestyle for her to live. She carefully stood up from her meditative stance. Today she had chosen a simple sitting position. It seemed that her mind focused better when she wasn’t putting herself through painful yoga positions. Trying her best not to get distracted she took the candle down from the shelf and placed in on the floor in front of her. As many new witches were told to do Tara attempted to play with the energies she felt around her first. Gather. Hold. Release.

There was no denying that Tara felt something when she did this. The very tips of her fingers would begin to tingle and her hands would begin to feel strange. It was almost as if everything inside them began to awaken. Outwardly they would not be moving at all yet everything below the surface could not sit still. It felt so fake and predictable Tara couldn’t help but wonder if her brain was doing this to her subconsciously because of excitement, or if she was genuinely feeling the energy.

These types of questions, Tara knew were not something she could occupy today. She would have to give it her all, because at the end of this she had to be certain one way or the other. She would have to know that Magick, as the internet claims it was rightfully spelled, was either real, or fake. This spell would determine everything in Tara’s life from here on out. She would either live the adventurous, fun, magickal life she craved for, or she would retreat to reality, sure that was all there was.

Tara was teetering between two lives like a marble might teeter between two slopes. One small push in a direction and you were sent rolling downward, quickly gaining speed, deeming it impossible to climb back up.

She now had hands full of energy the way she was supposed to. No hesitations the website had said, or the energy could slip your grasp. Tara was headstrong and she didn’t hesitate for even a second. She muttered the magic word desperately, staring straight at the wick of the candle wishing fire upon it as she spoke, “Sắmena.”

Not to her surprise the candle in front of her remained unlit. Out of her control her eyes filled with tears as she forced herself to let go of all hope for magick. She has never expected to be this upset but she knew she was alright. She forced herself to stand up and walk away from the candle, but she couldn’t force her mind away from the concept. As she should’ve done the first time she pictured the candle lighting. The image was so clear to her now as she’d wished it had been before. Maybe then the spell would’ve worked properly. Tara quickly extinguished the thought, magick wasn’t real and it wouldn’t be no matter how much she wanted it.

Tara still was picturing the candle lighting. She had such a raw passion now, a true passion and longing she had lacked earlier. She clenched her fists tight holding onto the concept as if she could hold it in her hand. Tara tried to convince herself it was not at all real, so she did something else her parents would not approve of and let herself curse. “Damn magick. Damn Sắmena! Damn the whole thing!”

That was all it took. Finally, everything needed to make the spell work was there. The passion, the energy, the imagery. Immediately after she said the word, the wick of the candle expressed a quick, short lived spark, but it was gone before Tara had turned around to put the candle back on the shelf. Tara would live the rest of her life never knowing what she could’ve had, but it was okay. It was safer this way, and much, much more real.

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