Returning from the Birthday Dinner: Memories of a Wonderful Evening
Emily returned from the restaurant with her husband, where they had celebrated his birthday. Theyd had a splendid timeplenty of people, family, colleagues from work. She hadnt met most of them before, but if James had decided to invite them, she trusted his judgment.
Emily wasnt the type to argue with her husbands decisions. She disliked confrontations and pointless disputes. It was easier to agree than to insist on being right.
“Emily, are your house keys far down in your bag? Can you find them?”
She opened her handbag, fumbling around for the keys. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her finger, making her jerk her hand back. The bag tumbled to the floor.
“What was that?” her husband asked sharply.
“I pricked myself on something.”
“Your bags a messno wonder.”
Emily didnt argue. She picked it up, carefully retrieving the keys. Once inside, she forgot about the incident entirely. Her feet ached from exhaustionall she wanted was a shower and bed.
The next morning, she woke to a throbbing pain in her finger. It was red and swollen. Then she remembered last night and reached for her bag to investigate. Pulling out each item gingerly, she found a large, rusted needle at the bottom.
“What on earth?”
She had no idea how it got there. Unsettled, she tossed it into the bin, then treated the puncture wound before heading to work. But by lunch, she was burning up with fever.
She called James.
“I dont know whats wrong. I must have caught something. Im feverish, my heads pounding, and my whole body aches. James, listenI found a rusted needle in my bag last night. Thats what I pricked myself on.”
“You should see a doctor. It could be tetanus or sepsis.”
“Dont worry, I cleaned the wound. Ill be fine.”
But she wasnt. Hour by hour, she grew worse. Barely making it through the workday, she took a taxi home, collapsing onto the sofa as soon as she stepped inside.
In her feverish sleep, she dreamed of her grandmother, Margaret, who had died when Emily was very young. She didnt know how she recognized hershe just did. The old woman, bent with age, would have frightened many, but Emily sensed she was there to help.
Margaret led her through a field, showing her which herbs to gather. She instructed Emily to brew a tea to cleanse her body of the darkness poisoning her. Someone wished her harm, her grandmother said. But to fight back, she had to stay alive. Time was running out.
Emily woke drenched in sweat. It felt like shed slept for hours, but only minutes had passed. The front door clickedJames was home. She stumbled to the hallway, and he paled at the sight of her.
“Whats happened to you? Look at yourself.”
She turned to the mirror. The woman staring back was unrecognizablehair greasy, eyes sunken, skin sallow.
“What does this mean?”
Then she remembered the dream. “I saw Granny. She told me what to do”
“Emily, get dressed. Were going to the hospital.”
“No. She said doctors wont help.”
An argument eruptedthe first real fight theyd ever had. James, desperate, even tried to drag her out by force. But Emily twisted free, collapsing against the wall.
“If you wont go willingly, Ill make you.”
James, furious, snatched up her handbag and stormed out. All Emily could do was text her boss, claiming she had the flu and needed days off.
He returned near midnight, apologetic. She only said, “Take me to the village tomorrowwhere Granny lived.”
The next morning, Emily looked like a walking corpse. James begged her to reconsider, but they drove to the village anyway. She barely remembered the wayher parents had sold the house after Margarets death.
Half-asleep the entire journey, she suddenly jolted awake as they neared the fields. “There,” she whispered.
Staggering out of the car, she collapsed onto the grass. But she knew this was the place from her dream. They gathered the herbs, returned home, and James brewed the tea as instructed.
Sipping it slowly, Emily felt a little better with each swallow. But when she went to the bathroom, her urine was black. Instead of fear, relief washed over her.
“The darkness is leaving,” she murmured.
That night, Margaret appeared again in her dreams, smiling.
“Granddaughter, you were cursed through that rusted needle. My tea will restore you, but not for long. You must find who did this and return their malice. I cant see whobut your husband is involved. If you hadnt thrown the needle away, I could tell you more.”
Then came her instructions: Buy a pack of needles, recite an incantation over the largest one, and place it in Jamess bag. Whoever cursed her would prick themselves on itrevealing their identity.
By morning, though still weak, Emily knew shed recover. When James insisted on staying home to care for her, she brushed him off.
“James, make me some soup. Im starving after this flu.”
She followed Margarets instructions precisely. That evening, the enchanted needle lay in Jamess bag.
“Are you sure you dont need me to stay?” he asked before bed.
“Ill manage.”
She waited. When he returned from work the next day, she greeted him at the door.
“How was your day?”
“Fine. Why?”
She almost gave upuntil he turned back.
“Oh, Eve from the next department tried helping me with my keys. Reached into my bag and pricked herself on a needle. Where did that even come from? She glared at me like she wanted to kill me.”
“Was she at your birthday dinner?”
“Yesjust a colleague, nothing more.”
The pieces clicked. Now Emily knew how the needle ended up in her bag.
That night, Margaret returned with final instructions: how to turn Eves malice back on herself.
Within days, James mentioned Eve had been hospitalizeddoctors baffled by her sudden decline.
The following weekend, Emily asked him to take her to the village cemetery. She hadnt visited since the funeral. Buying a bouquet, she knelt at Margarets grave, clearing away weeds.
“Granny, forgive me for staying away. I thought once a year was enough. But if not for you, Id be gone.”
A gentle breeze brushed her shouldersas if Margaret had laid a hand there. When she turned, no one was there. Just the whisper of the wind.
