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Witch’s Candle

Allan Onik

    Tony stared down the barrel of the gun. It was recently cleaned an oiled—a Beretta 9000S.
    “Do I really have to die?” he asked. The room was dark and smelled of piss.
    “We’re beyond that now,” came the voice from the shadows, “think not of your coming death, but of your life. We live in the Age of the Higher Brain; the cerebral cortex has grown enormously over the past few millennia, overshadowing the ancient, instinctive lower brain. In ancient times, we couldn’t think logically and critically—the prospect of a bullet through the brain would mean nothing to us on the surface. But we could be. We could feel a mysterious presence around us, like an ether—before we found so much clutter in our systems. In your last few minutes let us be quiet. I’m going to free you into bliss.”

    Abatha cut the snake and allowed its blood to drip into the bowl. She selected the runes and bone powder and mixed it with the blood, then took a hunk of white wax with a makeshift wick and soaked it in the concoction. When she lit the candle she meditated on the flame and its aura. The spirit she was waiting for materialized in the corner of her cluttered room. The cold void created by its blackness made Abatha shiver.
    “I’m sorry I had to draw you from so far,” she said.
    “Anything for my lovely lady.” The being hissed like a common specter.
    “I called you to ask you some questions.”
    “In the truth of one reality, it shall be revealed without effort or struggle.” The origin of its dimension made its voice echo in her chambers. Abatha returned her eyes to the flame and soaked in The Creator’s bliss. It fused into her like the sun’s rays in her garden on a bright day.
    “Now I suppose you’re going to lecture me on perception,” she said.
    “We both know that this one reality is spirit, and the surface life only a disguise with a thousand masks that keeps us from discovering what is real. But here’s what you don’t know. I need your help.”
    “Don’t be pithy,” the witch said, “neither of us are servants.”
    “Ask and you will receive, knock and the door will be opened.”
    “You make it sound so simple.”
    “It is.”
    “But I must know now! I can’t wait a moment longer!” Abatha cried.
    “Then you are on the right track.”
    “So you recognize that there are secrets I don’t know.”
    “As immutable as the seasons.”
    The candle’s flame danced in her gaze as the information fused into her being. She began to search for her wicker doll.

    “I suppose everyone has their time,” Tony said. Tears welled in his eyes.
    “You are the most important being in the world,” came the voice in the shadows.
    “Is that so?”
    “At the level of the soul, we are all the world. The most important and the one and only.”
    The trigger was pulled and the bullet backfired. Blood splattered in Tony’s face. He got off his knees and ran.

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