The fog clung to the forest ground like a tree’s roots cling to the dirt for dear life. Deep in the middle of this dark, foggy forest is a tower where a magician resides. For years, in the highest rooms of the tower, he has been creating potions upon potions and selling them to folks in the town, mostly for healing and love. The latter was requested the most from him, and it began to take a toll upon the poor magician’s heart. He decided he wanted a true love for himself, specifically meant for him. He said to himself one day, ‘If I am going to create a female, I must get parts of a female.’ He went to the graveyard, looked at some sites and found a woman he once knew of and dug up her grave. He took from her a fingernail, hair, and a piece of her heart. He went back to his lab in his tower and began to create a potion with her parts in the stew. He said to himself, ‘I must create this woman to counter me.’ He plucked a strand of hair from his head, and with his wand he withdrew a piece of his heart. Tossing those pieces of him, and a bottle of his love potion into the stew, he began to whisper words as he stirred all the ingredients together, ‘Firt don lee tun sifth’; which means, ‘Life unto death, I give.’ He continued for a few days checking in on the cauldron, stirring it often.
After a week of tending to the potion, he awoke one morning with a beautiful young lady beside him in bed. That day, and for many days after, she followed him wherever he went: into his lab, into town, into the forest, and many other places. She took orders from him and did whatever he wished. She cooked him meals thrice daily, baked special deserts, went shopping for him, and cleaned the house, among other tasks to fulfill his needs.
Months went by and the magician began to feel lonely once again. His heart grew empty the more time he spent with his lady. When he was able to sneak away from her for a few solitary moments, he said to himself, ‘What I have is not true love. True she tends to every need I desire; however, there is something missing in my life. Clearly this female is not my true love. I will create a concoction that will take her spirit away and back to the grave.’
That evening he created a magical poison that did such powers as he intended. He awoke the next morning, alone and depressed. He spent some time mourning his loss of love until one day he awoke and said to himself, ‘There is no reason for me to be so sad. I have proven I can create a female with my magic and I ought to try again.’
That evening he returned to the graveyard to dig up the remains of another female he once knew of. At the graveyard he spoke with himself as he searched for another female, ‘Despite all the attention I received from the previous lady, not once had she pleased me in bed. I must find one who can do such things for me, for that must be where my heart is lacking in happiness.’ He walked the sites and paused at one he seemed pleased with. He dug through the earth, opened her coffin and spoke, ‘This time, I will not take fingernails from her as I do not need her attention from her hands.’ He instead took hair, a breast, and a piece of her heart. He returned to his lab and placed into the new stew the ingredients of the female, a strand of his hair, a piece of his heart, and a bottle of love potion.
In a week, he awoke to a female lying beside him. Immediately when he woke, she wanted to please him physically. She pleased him every way he desired in bed, and he was very happy.
As time drew on, however, he realized most of his time was spent with her and the relations they had together. He was unable to complete many tasks including creating potions for the townsfolk, fetching food from the grocer, and cleaning his tower. As much as he enjoyed his time with her, he still felt empty deep within. Once again, he created the poison that would send the lady’s soul back to the grave and had her partake of it one evening.
For a second time, the magician woke in the morning alone and depressed. His soul was heavier after the second female as he had an intimate relationship with her, and connected in ways only two people who are truly in love ought to connect. He tortured himself with his thoughts day after day as his depression only deepened. It was not until a wise wizard who was a friend of the magician came and visited. He spoke to the magician, ‘Why do you torture yourself in such ways, friend? So you screwed up. Forgive yourself and move on. Give true love another chance. It will come to you; I am sure of this.’
When his wizard friend had left, the magician thought upon the wise words of counsel for a few days. He finally came to the conclusion his friend is correct, he ought to give love another chance. Thus, he visited the graveyard a third time.
He spoke with himself when he found a site he thought would work, ‘I took fingernails of the first for service. I took breast of the second for pleasure. Neither of those worked; therefore, it is clear that love must come from the mind.’ He withdrew from the third female, hair, heart, and a slice of her mind.
After mixing the potion with the new ingredients along with his hair, heart, and a bottle of love potion, he awoke the next week to another female. This relationship lasted longer than the first two. She was able to stimulate the intellectual growth of the magician. Through her, his healing and love potions were made stronger than before. He created, with her help, many new potions; potions so affective he became rich and famous. Folk from all across the land near and far came specifically to his tower to purchase his incredible potions.
The days turned into months, and the months turned into years. Nonetheless, for a third time, he became unhappy once again. He discovered fame and fortune cannot fulfill the demands of the heart. So once again, he concocted that poison, and sent her soul back to the depths of the earth.
At this point, the magician became very angry in his depression. He cursed the heavens and the earth. He blasphemed all the things he once believed in; magic, potions, astronomy, and many other things magicians believe. In his fit of anger he destroyed his lab. He threw everything out of the window, burned them to ashes and dust, and decided to sell his tower. He wanted nothing to do with magic, nothing to do with potions, nothing to do with love; and worst of all, nothing to do with anything at all. The magician simply did not want to live without love.
Later in the week, a young lady stopped by the magician’s tower. She said to him, ‘I hear you are selling your tower. I am interested in purchasing it. What is your offer?’ He told her his offer and she agreed to it; however, she continued with a request of her own, ‘I, Magician, am a lonely young lady. I have never lived with anyone but my own family, and my family is a tragedy in of itself. I have been lonely for many years and I simply could not bear living in this great tower all by myself. Could you be so kind and to dwell in this place with me, as it was once your home as well?’
The magician thought upon this request and came to the conclusion, ‘Ma’am, I have nothing going for my life. I gave up my craft, I gave up on love, and simply put, I gave up on life. I have nothing left to live for, but find it meaningless and foolish to end my life. I will stay here and serve you.’
One morning, after many months of service to the young lady, the magician woke up to a revelation. He arose from his bed, showered, dressed, groomed himself, and proceeded down the staircase to the young lady’s bedroom. He rapped upon her door and waited for her reply, ‘Yes?’
‘May I come in Ma’am? Are you decent?’
“Yes, I am. Please, come in.’
The magician opened the door and found her tending to her hair and face as she often liked to do. He went beside her chair, knelt down, and spoke, ‘I love you!’
She replied, ‘Thank you, Magician.’
Her reply struck him deep within, ‘Thank you? That is it? That is all you have to say?’
Although his frustration churned, the young lady kept her composure, ‘Well, what would you like me to say?’
‘How about, ‘I love you too’?’
She turned to face him, ‘Magician, you have sought to produce true love thrice times. Thrice times did you fail. What makes you so sure this time?’
‘Thrice times I tried to produce true love. Thrice times did I fail. Thrice times did I seek to make myself happy. This time, with you, I never once sought to bring happiness upon myself. I only sought to make you happy; and when I see you happy as a result of the things I do for you, I am happy. That is how I know it is true this time.’
The young lady smiled at the magician and aptly replied, ‘Then Magician, I love you too!’
SCF Venice — A Literary and Arts Magazine