April 22
Tonight we returned from Emilys birthday dinner at the Rivergate Bistro in Birmingham. The evening had been a proper celebrationextended family, coworkers, and a few acquaintances shed never met before, all gathered because James insisted on inviting them. I never argue with Jamess choices; its easier to go along than to make a fuss.
Emily, could you grab the keys for me? I asked as we reached the front door. She fumbled through her handbag, a sharp pain flashing across her wrist, and the bag slipped onto the hallway floor.
What happened? I asked, concerned.
Just a little nick, she replied, brushing it off. Your bag could swallow a whole city, so nothings surprising.
She didnt argue, lifted the bag, and delicately extracted the keys. We stepped inside, and the sting in her wrist faded into the background. Her legs ached from the day, and she was dreaming of a hot shower and a soft bed. By morning her hand was swollen, red, and throbbing. Remembering the accident, she rummaged through the handbag and, at the bottom, discovered a large, rusted needle.
What on earth is that doing in there? she muttered, tossing the needle into the bin. She fetched a firstaid kit, cleaned the wound, and headed off to work. By midday her temperature began to climb.
She called me, voice hoarse: James, Im not sure what to do. Ive got a fever, a pounding head, and my whole body aches. I found that rusty needle in my bagmust have pricked me yesterday.
I think you should see a doctor, I suggested. It could be tetanus or an infection.
Dont worry, she replied. Ive bandaged it; Ill be fine.
But the hours only made her feel worse. She barely made it through her shift, flagged a cab, and trudged home, too exhausted for the bus. She collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep.
In the dream, her late grandmother Eleanor appearedher frail, stooped figure unmistakable despite the fog of memory. Eleanor led Emily across a meadow, pointing out herbs to gather, urging her to brew a decoction to cleanse her body. Theres someone who wishes you harm, the old woman whispered, but you must survive to fight back. Time was short.
Emily woke drenched in sweat, the clock showing only a few minutes had passed. The front door slammed openJames had come back. I slipped from the sofa and met her at the hallway. Seeing her pale, dishevelled self, I gasped.
Look at yourself in the mirror, I urged.
She stared at her reflection: hair in clumps, dark circles under her eyes, a grey pallor, eyes vacant. Whats happening? she whispered.
She remembered the dream and told me, Grandma told me what I must do. I told her to get dressed and head to the hospital. She refused, insisting, Grandma says doctors wont help.
The house erupted in a fierce argument. I called her reckless, accusing her of being delirious with fever. For the first time we truly clashed. I tried to force her into the car, grabbing her wrist. If you wont go willingly, Ill make you, I said. She slipped, struck the corner of a cupboard, and the pain sent her reeling. In a fury I snatched the handbag, slammed the door, and stormed out. She managed only a quick email to her boss, citing illness.
I returned past midnight, apologising, but Emilys only request was, Take me to the village where my grandmother lived.
The next morning she looked more like a walking corpse than a living woman. I pleaded, Emily, dont be stubbornlets go to the hospital. She insisted we drive to the old village. She could name it, though we hadnt set foot there since her parents sold the cottage after her grandmothers death. She slept the whole journey. As the countryside rolled by, she whispered, Here, and we pulled up beside a field.
She stepped out, exhausted, and lay on the grass, certain she was where Eleanor had guided her. She gathered the herbs shed been shown, and I brewed the mixture as she instructed. She sipped it slowly, feeling strength return with each swallow.
When she rose to use the bathroom, the urine turned a dark, almost black colour. It didnt frighten her; it reminded her of Eleanors words: Darkness comes out
That night Eleanor visited her again in the dream, smiling before delivering a warning. The rusted needle placed a curse on you. My brew will give you strength, but only briefly. You must find who set the curse and return their ill will. I cannot see the culprit, but its linked to your husband. Had you not thrown the needle away, I could have told you more.
She gave a new instruction: Buy a packet of needles, speak these words over the largest one: Spirits of the night, hear me! Reveal the truth, guide me to my enemy. Slip that needle into your husbands bag. When the one who cursed you pricks themselves on it, well learn their name and can set things right.
Emily awoke still weak but convinced she would recover. I stayed home to look after her, surprised when she asked to go to the shop alone.
Emily, youre barely on your feet. Ill go with you, I said.
No, James, just make me a soup. Im starving after this illness, she replied.
She followed Eleanors advice. By evening the enchanted needle lay hidden in my bag. Before bed she asked, Are you sure youll manage alone? Should I stay with you?
Ill be fine, she answered.
The concoction shed been drinking for three days acted like an antidote; the malevolent presence seemed to wane. I returned from work, and she greeted me at the door.
How was your day? she asked.
It was fine, why? I replied, then added, You wont believe itIvey from the neighbouring department tried to reach into my bag for my office keys because my hands were full. She stuck herself with a needle. Where did that needle come from? She glared at me, as if shed kill me with a look.
What about Ivey? I pressed.
Emily, youre the only one that matters to me. I love only you. She nodded, She was at the birthday dinner, a good friend, nothing more.
Understanding washed over me; now the rusted needles origin made sense. I headed to the kitchen where dinner waited. That very night Eleanor showed Emily how to return the ill will to Ivey, explaining that Ivey had tried to eliminate a rival to claim my affection, and would use dark arts again if thwarted.
Emily carried out the ritual precisely. Soon after, Ivy called in sick, claiming doctors were helpless. Emily begged me to drive her to the village cemetery, a place she hadnt visited since her grandmothers funeral. She bought a bouquet, gloves, and, after some searching, found Grandmother Eleanors grave. She placed the flowers in a bottle of water, sat on a bench, and whispered:
Grandma, Im sorry I didnt come sooner. I thought visiting once a year was enough. I was wrong. Ill be back more often. Without you, I might not be here now.
A gentle breeze brushed her shoulders, as if Eleanors hand rested there, then the air stilled.
Looking back, I realise that dismissing fear and listening to the quiet voices of those we love, even when they come through strange dreams, can guide us out of darkness. Ive learned that patience, faith, and a willingness to follow even the oddest counsel may be the very thing that saves a life.
