**Returning from the Birthday Dinner: Memories of a Lovely Evening**
Charlotte returned home with her husband from the restaurant where theyd celebrated his birthday. Theyd had a splendid timefamily, friends, even a few colleagues from work. Most of them Charlotte had never met before, but if Thomas had invited them, she trusted his judgment.
She wasnt one to argue with her husbands decisions. She disliked quarrels and confrontations. It was easier to go along with him than to insist on being right.
“Charlotte, are your keys still in your bag? Can you find them?”
She opened her handbag, fumbling for the keys, when suddenlya sharp pain. She jerked her hand back, dropping the bag onto the floor.
“What are you shouting about now?”
“I jabbed myself on something.”
“Your bags a messno wonder.”
Charlotte didnt argue. She picked it up, carefully pulled out the keys, and stepped inside. By then, shed already forgotten about the prick. Her feet ached from exhaustionall she wanted was a shower and bed.
The next morning, she woke to a throbbing pain in her fingerswollen, red, and stiff. Then she remembered last night. She took the handbag and tipped its contents onto the bed. At the bottom lay a large, rusted needle.
“What on earth?”
She couldnt fathom how it had gotten there. Shaking her head, she tossed it into the bin, then went to the medicine cabinet to clean the wound. By lunchtime, she was burning with fever.
She called Thomas.
“I dont know whats wrong. I mustve caught something. Fever, headachemy whole body aches. Thomas, listenI found a huge rusted needle in my bag. Thats what I pricked myself on.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor. We dont want this turning into sepsis.”
“Dont worry, I cleaned it. Ill be fine.”
But hour by hour, she got worse. Barely making it through the workday, she took a taxi home, collapsing onto the sofa, drifting into a deep sleep.
She dreamed of her grandmother, Eleanor, whod passed when Charlotte was small. She didnt know how she recognized herbut she did. The old woman was hunched, frail, her appearance unsettling, yet Charlotte felt no fearonly that she meant to help.
Eleanor led her through a field, showing her which plants to gather. “Make a tea from these,” she said. “It will cleanse the sickness inside you. Someone wishes you harm. To fight it, you must stay alive. You dont have much time.”
Charlotte woke drenched in sweat. It felt like shed slept for hoursyet only minutes had passed. The front door clickedThomas was home. Staggering to the hallway, she met his horrified stare.
“Look at yourself.”
She turned to the mirror. The woman staring back was unrecognizablehair tangled, skin sallow, eyes hollow.
“Whats happening to me?”
Then she remembered the dream. “I saw Grandmother. She told me what to do”
“Charlotte, get dressed. Were going to the hospital.”
“No. The doctors wont help.”
The argument spiraled. Thomas called her delusional, even tried dragging her out. She pulled free, collapsing against the wall. Furious, he grabbed his coat and left.
Alone, she texted her boss: *Caught a nasty bugwont be in for a few days.*
Thomas returned near midnight, apologetic. All she said was:
“Take me to the village where Grandmother lived.”
The next morning, she looked like a ghostpale, weak, barely standing. Thomas pleaded, “This is madness. Lets go to the hospital.”
But they drove to the countryside. Charlotte dozed the whole way, waking only as they neared the village. “There,” she whispered.
Stumbling from the car, she collapsed onto the grassbut she knew this was the field from her dream. She found the herbs, brewed the tea as instructed, and with each sip, her strength returned.
Later, in the bathroom, she saw her urine had turned black. Instead of fear, she smiled. “Its working.”
That night, Eleanor visited again.
“The curse came through that needle. My tea will heal you, but not forever. Find who did thisits tied to Thomas. If only youd kept the needle, I couldve told you more. But do this: Buy a pack of needles. Hold the largest and say
*Spirits of night, hear my plea,*
*Shadows that whisper, reveal to me,*
*Show me the one who wishes me dead,*
*Let their own malice strike them instead.*
Then hide the needle in Thomass bag. The one who cursed you will prick themselvesand well know their name.”
By morning, though still weak, Charlotte knew shed survive. Thomas stayed home, bewildered when she insisted on going out alone.
“Charlotte, you can barely walk!”
“Just make me some soup. Im starving.”
She bought the needles, performed the ritual, and slipped one into Thomass briefcase. That evening, he mentioned a colleague, Emily, whod pricked herself while helping him.
“Where did a needle even come from?”
Charlottes blood ran cold. “Was she at your birthday dinner?”
“Yesjust a work friend.”
The puzzle clicked. *Thats how the needle got into my bag.*
That night, Eleanor confirmed it. “Emily used magic to remove youso she could take your place. She wont stop.”
Charlotte followed her instructions. Days later, Thomas mentioned Emily had fallen gravely ill.
The following weekend, Charlotte visited Eleanors grave for the first time in years. She cleared the weeds, laid fresh flowers, and whispered,
“Grandmother thank you. Without you, Id be gone.”
A breeze brushed her shoulderslike a gentle hand. She turned. No one was there.
But she knew.
Never again would she dismiss the unseen. Some debts must be paidand some lessons learned the hard way.
