Transgressive Fiction
Spells: Offering my body to Luna
Now I had everything I needed to rid my world of the scum living below me
I worked from home, so it was particularly annoying that my neighbours were good for nothing layabouts. Well he was. The poor woman chose the short straw, having to put up with him. What with his constant shouting and playing rap music around the clock. I did feel a little sorry for her, she was heavily pregnant, and he seemed more concerned about himself than either his wife or unborn baby.
I lived on the next floor up, and my opaque bathroom window had a view through their skyline pane. The other day I heard her shouting at him for a change,
“Stanley. What have you done.”
I peeked through the pane and saw he’d died his hair almost a white blonde. He looked the spit of the guy on the posters he had covering their walls. Some rapper or other. I suspected it was the one whose voice woke me up at night when Stanley was off his head on drugs and turned the stereo up to full volume.
To be honest, it was all getting a bit much for me. I was considering moving for my own well-being. I wasn’t sleeping for the noise, so work was suffering too. Not only that, I spent far too much time spying on them through the skyline. It was compelling. Like my own private, reality TV show. Something would have to change. I decided it was up to me to make it happen.
The following evening, dressed to kill, I knocked on their door. Stanley opened it and looked me up and down, his eyes finally resting on my pert titties nicely showcased by a purposely chosen tight red blouse.
“Hey. I’m your neighbour. I really love the music you play and wondered if you could advise which CDs I should buy?”
Stanley practically pulled me into the apartment. Shoved a large glass of wine in my hand before writing down the name of a few albums by this rapper “Slim…” something or other.
“It’s great to meet someone I have something in common with.”
Smelling of old sweat and cigarettes, he sidled up alongside me on the sofa to get a better view of my cleavage,
“She’s asleep as usual. It is all she does since falling pregnant. Her idea, not mine.”
“Yes. It must be hard for you.” I commiserated, glancing down at his crotch while the material behind his zipper moved in appreciation.
I downed the glass of wine and asked to use their bathroom. Once in there, I quickly found what I’d really come for. Her hairbrush and his comb. I pocketed the samples of hair lacing the bristles and teeth and flushed the toilet for affect. I certainly wasn’t going to use the foul smelling utility.
Then, I made my getaway as fast as I could.
“Hey... Don’t forget the list of tracks. Here.”
He handed me the note. I smiled sweetly and left.
Now I had everything I needed to rid my world of the scum living below me in every sense!
At midnight, I took the hair samples, a lighter and book of spells (with moon dust) — handed down to me from my great-grandmother when she realised I also had the gift— out to the very bottom of the garden
The crescent moon didn’t provide much light, but I was not after illumination. I wanted to harness the new moon’s power to promote beginnings and cut ties with those things that were holding me back.
I set alight the spirals of hair, which immediately took to the sky like tiny fireworks. All the while, I chanted lines of verse. Making sure to emphasise the result I was after — new, respectful, neighbours.
To finish the incantation, I unclasped my red mane, tore open my blouse, sprinkling magic moon dust all over my breasts, and looked to the night sky offering the Luna gods my womanhood.
I knew the spell was going to work as the heavens opened, and the rains came down, anointing my golden bosom.
Now all I had to do was wait.
Two evenings later I witnessed a lot of shouting, finally the front door closed loudly. I looked out of the window to see Stanley bundling his wife into the vehicle. By the looks of her bump, she didn’t have long to go. I briefly considered they may be off to the hospital there and then, before car doors slammed and to my horror, I realised he’d packed her into the boot.
He turned his car stereo up high and skidded out of the drive at top speed.
I briefly considered calling the police, but I knew my spell was coming to life and nothing me or anyone else did could stop it.
When I saw the news the next day, I nearly choked on my cereal.
Both of them dead.
He’d driven off the jetty into the river, apparently as a way to get back at the darling rapper for not replying to his letters.
Phew. Nothing to do with my spell then!
The following week their flat was sold, and soon I had decent new neighbours. They worked hard and slept long. Perfect.
Pardon? What’s that… do I feel guilty, you ask? Am I kept awake at night thinking about the new life that was also lost? Com’on… It’s a dog-eat-dog world. And a witchy bitch like me will always end up on top.
Written for this prompt: Big Band Versus Rap
Inspired by this amazing rap by the hugely talented Eminem…
One more story from me
Plus one by T.K. McDonald
