Time Conjuring(A Time Travel story)

Time Conjuring-Chapter One (part 2)

My vision started to blur through my tortoiseshell eyeglasses, I took them off and was amazed at what I saw. I looked at Angela smirking at me with the spell book still opened. I could actually SEE her, I've worn glasses since I was six years old. 

"W-what did you do?" I asked in a state of disbelief.

"Just a little spell to give you 20/20 vision."

Angela hadn't realized what she had done. Every year since I was six, I listened to eye doctors tell me that my eyes were getting worse every year. At such a young age hearing the same thing over and over made me fear that I would go blind eventually. I stayed scared for years that one day I would wake up one morning unable to see. I NEED my sight. And Angela had granted me that. My ultimate wish.

My eyes blurred for a different reason this time. Tear threatened to spill but I had to ask something else.

"Is it permanent?" My voice quivered with anticipation.

"It could be." Angela answered. She put the book back in its cabinet and locked the door. She then went around the cashier counter and grabbed a small book with a red clearance sticker on it.

"Here." She handed me the book. The title "Spells and potions for beginners" It appeared to be a more sophisticated version of "Witchcraft for Dummies". 

"I don't know-" Angela cut me off, "oh, come on, think about it, you can do whatever you want by just saying the words. You could have power over your own life," She crooned. 

I found myself nodding ad paying the thirteen dollars and sixty-eight cents for the book. 

I left the bookstore in a daze. What had I just done? I peered down at the paperback clutched tightly to my chest. Shoving the small book into my tote bag, I went caught the bus and made it to my English class with a little less than five minutes to spare. During class, my mind was never far from thought about the magical little book in my bag. There were times my fingers seem to literally itch with anticipation to open the book and see what treasures awaited me. I felt like I was at the beginning stages of addiction but I just couldn't help myself. I needed to know, so as soon as class was over I went to the library, checked out another book abut the Victorian era, this one was about Victorian authors and their influence o today's culture, and opened the spell book. As I cracked ope the cover, I half-expected a chilling breeze or spooky wind to come by, but it didn't. Large sections of the books were filled with strange runes and forms of Latin I was unfamiliar with. My finger traced the raised letters of one particular set of runes.

"Alias Locas Conversato" I read.

This time the room did turn cold. 

Time seemed to pass slowly as the room went dark. I felt like I was falling. My brown hair whipped around me as I continued to fall. When would I hit the ground? I'd read before about people committing suicide like this, fall from some place tall because the altitude would render you unconscious before you became a human pancake. But I didn't fall off anything, and I'm not suicidal.

I closed my eye in the hope that I would open them and be at home in my bed or the library at school , no such luck. But the air around me had stopped moving.  The ground beneath me was wet and dewy, and the air heavy with the smell of burnt wood. 

My eyes burned when I finally opened them. I was laying on the ground layed out in a row with many other people. Several men were carrying limp bodies from a large manor. There was still small embers from the fire that appeared to have engulf the west end of the house. To my left was a woman in a white nightgown, her eyes were closed and her hair was braided down one side. To my right was another woman probably 18 or 19 years old, she had a angry red burn going from her elbow down her forearm.  Were they unconscious like me? I was afraid to find out. I tentatively placed my index finger on the older woman's pulse point. No heartbeat. The younger one was gone too. Her skin was beginning to cool. I couldn't deal with this, I couldn't catch my breath. It was then that I heard the most ungodly scream, only to realize that it had come from me. "She's alive!" One of the men exclaimed. The grave diggers, I presume they were, at least, came rushing toward my body just in time for me to pass out again. 

Some time later, I awoke in a room with champagne colored curtains and a roaring fire in the fireplace. Great, I thought, just what I want to see, fire. My body was sore all over but I wanted to get out of the fluffy marshmallow someone called a bed. With a final grunt I made it to my feet.  

This was not my bedroom. Nor was it like any I had ever seen. Where was I? 

That damn book! I realized. No, this was Angela's fault, she said the book was for beginner's.  Part of me was mortified that I had done something so illogical in the first place. I always erred on the side of caution.  Now I was just another idiot.

The door clicked open drawing my attention away from the flames licking at the woodpile. "I see you are starting to recover." The older man said pleasantly. 

"Where am I?" I demanded with a rasp.

The man looked startled. "You are home Alesandra, where else would you be?"

I glared at him skeptically. "Yeah right, buddy. Let's try this again, who are you?"

The man looked genuinely worried now, he drew closer to me. I backed away toward the wall as he reached out his hand to me. 

"Alesandra," He said in a small voice. "you don't even recognize your own father?" The hurt in his eyes was almost tangible. 

This man truly thought I was his daughter, the daughter that probably had died in that fire. 

"My name isn't Alesandra, it's Ellyn Fiore." My voice was solemn, pity laced with my words.

The man shook his head. "No, no, you are Alesandra. You must have suffered some head trauma in the fire. The doctor did say you had fallen before your were rescued from the fire."  

He's in denial, I thought to myself.