Love and Magick, A Short Story Double Feature Read Free Page B

had
also tried to wake me when I slept because once I woke to her
embrace, finding her fast asleep, cheeks wet with tears.
    Perhaps here surprise at seeing me mimicked
mine at seeing her. I fear I will never know.
    If only we could have spoken, even for an
hour...but alas, some things cannot be. There came a point when a
decision had to be made, when a reason for her presence had to be
decided upon.
    I don’t know what thought process drove me
to the decision, but I believe that the Spell of Duality was the
agent at work, for I know of no single strain of logic that could
have guided me to such a dark inference.
    My body double and I were not meant to
commune, but my body double did have a purpose. She, with her two
good legs, compared to me with my one. One vision, dual
intent …those words took on new meaning.
    Was this not the fulfillment of my singular
vision for embracing the craft, to work just this one miracle?
Surely, her intent paralleled mine, if not one in the same.
    She would not wake, of this I was certain
and I had tried. I did not know how to switch bodies and this too I
had tried.
    Was I to bring her to the Great Arcadian? I
didn't think so. The spell should not need another spell to make it
work. That was understood at the outset, it was one straight go
once the thing took off. Well, it had taken off.
    It was on the eve of the sixth day when I
dragged her naked body into the bathroom. I laid her out in the tub
and felt sick. I taped off the windows with newspaper and sat on
the toilet, thinking.
    Then, at last, I rose to the task.
    She was beautiful and as I stood over her, I
saw that her body, to me, was perfect. She was as whole as a new
born.
    “Jesus,” I whispered, gripping the jig
saw.
    A single woman living alone does not have
certain tools that would have sped up this process. A rusty and
battered old jig saw from the barn out back was the only semblance
of a surgeon’s bone saw I could find.
    I placed the cold metal blade against her
right thigh. “Oh fuck.” I burst into tears and stood back, my hand
covering my mouth. I dropped the saw, leaned over the toilet and
vomited. I was a mess. I bawled for an hour, sitting sloppily on
the floor with my doppelganger draped inside the tub, sleeping.
    “I can’t do this!” I sobbed. “Please, please
don’t make me do this!” But I knew as sure as fire burns that I
would. Was I to be the one to mar her beauty? Me? Oh, what cruelty.
I heard again Arcadian's words, his admonitions. He had been right,
so damn right. I'd had no idea what price I would pay.
    At last I kissed her forehead and with tears
sliding down my cheeks, whispered, “I love you.” Then, with gritty
and unthinking resolve, placed that horrific blade against her
tender thigh and gave it a wretched shove.
    Her naked skin split open like a cotton
sheet and blood spurted and ran in rivulets into the white,
porcelain tub. The room spun. My vision swam, black spots blipping
in and out of sight.
    “No,” I breathed. “Not now!”
    I was going into shock, passing out and if I
did she would wake.
    “Oh God, no—stay awake! Damn it, stay
awake!” I went to the sink and splashed cold water onto my face. I
wiped with a towel and saw in the mirror that bloody thing.
    I had to finish it. Now. I couldn't bear
this any longer. I had to end it no matter the consequences. I had
to.
    I hacked. Again and again I hacked. I sawed
and hewed away at that precious leg as one saws a Christmas tree to
make it level for the stand. The limb slipped from beneath my
greasy fingers and I grabbed it like a hunk of beef, steadied that
saw, and slashed the rusty teeth anew.
    I vomited three times more before the end,
and would have again, but there was nothing left. And before the
morning sun lit the sky I removed the mangled, bloody limb from her
broken body and held it up as a madwoman might an abortion.
    My heart jack hammered. I was covered in
gore to my elbows, my chest and hair. The bathroom was