**Diary Entry**
Last night, Emily and I left the restaurant where wed celebrated my birthday. The evening had been lovely, filled with relatives and coworkerssome of whom Emily hadnt met before. But if Oliver had invited them, he must have had his reasons.
Emily isnt one to argue. Shed rather let things slide than pick a fight. Easier to agree than push back, she always says.
*”Emily, did you tuck the house keys away? Could you grab them, please?”*
She rummaged through her handbag, then flinched, yelping as she dropped it.
*”What happened?”*
*”Something pricked me.”*
*”Honestly, with all the clutter in there, Im surprised it doesnt happen more often.”*
She didnt argue, just scooped up the bag and fished out the keys. By the time we got home, shed forgotten all about it. Exhausted from the evening, she went straight to bed.
But the next morning, her finger was red and swollen. She emptied her bag, puzzled, until she found a rusty needle at the bottom.
*”How on earth did this get in here?”*
Baffled, she tossed it in the bin, dabbed antiseptic on the wound, and headed to work. By lunch, though, she was feverish, her body aching.
She rang me, voice weak.
*”Oliver, I feel dreadfulfever, headache, everything hurts. That needle I found? It mustve been rusty. I think its infected.”*
*”Shouldnt you see a doctor? What if its tetanus?”*
*”Dont fuss. I cleaned it. Ill be fine.”*
But she wasnt. By evening, she could barely stand. She took a cab home and collapsed on the sofa, asleep before her head hit the cushion.
In her dream, she saw her late grandmother, Margaretgone since Emily was small. Shed only seen her in photos, yet somehow, she *knew* it was her. Bent with age, her face lined, she shouldve been frightening. But Emily felt only comfort.
Margaret led her through a field, pointing out herbs. *”Brew these,”* she said. *”Drink the tea. Itll purge the darkness inside you. Someone wishes you harm. Fight thembut first, survive.”*
Emily woke drenched in sweat. Only minutes had passed. Then the front door slammedId come home.
*”Good lord, look at yourself!”* I gasped.
She staggered to the mirror. The woman staring back was a strangerhair wild, skin grey, eyes hollow.
*”This cant be real.”*
Then she remembered the dream. *”Oliver, I saw Gran. She told me what to do”*
*”Emily, were going to hospital.”*
*”No. She said doctors wont help.”*
We rowed like never before. I grabbed her arm, tried dragging her out. She wrenched free, stumbled, and fell. Furious, I snatched her bag, stormed off.
Later, I apologised. Pale as death, she whispered, *”Take me to Grans village tomorrow.”*
I begged her to see sense, but we went. She slept the whole way, yet as we neared the village, she stirred.
*”Turn right here.”*
The moment she stepped onto the grass, her legs gave way. But she knew this was the place from her dream. She gathered the herbs, and back home, I brewed the tea. With every sip, colour returned to her cheeks.
Later, in the loo, she gaspedher urine was black. But she only smiled. *”Its working. The poisons leaving.”*
That night, Margaret returned in her dreams, smiling now.
*”That needle carried a curse. The tea buys you time, but you must find who did this. Your husbands involved somehow. Had you kept the needle, Id know more. But listenbuy new needles. Bless the largest one: Spirits of night, once alive, heed the seers of the darkreveal my foe! Hide it in your husbands bag. Whoever cursed you will prick themselves. Then, well strike back.”*
Emily obeyed. When I protested her going out alone, she insisted, *”Oliver, make some soup. Im ravenous.”*
That evening, the needle was in my bag.
*”Youre sure youll be alright?”* I asked before bed.
*”Ill manage.”*
By morning, she was stronger. When I returned from work, she asked, *”How was your day?”*
*”Fine. Why?”*
Just as she thought nothing had happened, I added, *”OhClaire from the office tried helping me fish out my keys. Pricked herself on a needle in my bag. Went spare at me.”*
*”Whats between you and Claire?”*
*”Emily, dont be daft. Its nothing.”*
But she knew thenClaire had planted the needle.
That night, Margaret taught her how to return the curse. Soon after, Claire fell illdoctors baffled.
Emily asked to visit the village cemetery. Shed not been since Margarets funeral. She bought flowers, tidied the grave, and knelt before the headstone.
*”Im sorry I never came. I thought once a year was enough. I was wrong. Ill visit properly now. You saved me, Gran.”*
A breeze stirred. For a moment, she felt hands on her shouldersbut when she turned, there was no one. Just the whisper of the wind.
