The Wizard of Aran crept from the castle in darkness. The full moon shone on him as he marched purposefully toward his destination. It must, he knew, be done tonight. Fifty years ago, beneath the light of a full moon, by the side of the shimmering River Wye, he made a foolish choice.
He had cast the spell, the one that had taken his beautiful Olivia away from him.
He remembered her words. They came echoing back to him across the span of years.
“Idiot.”
“Dolt.”
“You think you’re sooo smart, don’t you?”
He could still see her lips cursing him, even after all these years.
He hadn’t even done anything to deserve it.
Ok. So he had turned her sister into a parakeet. But that was hardly a reason for her to shout like that.
His blood had boiled. And the words had spilled out of his mouth. Instead of an angry girl, he found himself facing an angry oak tree. And now her face haunted his dreams.
He crossed the wooden bridge, heavy boots clomping in the silence. He gazed upon her and his breath caught in his chest. Even as a tree, she was incredibly beautiful. The moonlight silvered her leaves as they danced in the breeze.
“Aaagh!”
He went flying into the dirt. He was certain that hole in the ground hadn’t been there fifty years ago. Gingerly, he picked himself up and dusted off his robes, trying to regain some dignity as he approached the tree once more.
Gently, he lay his palms against the smooth bark and took a deep breath. It was time.
Ten times he circled round the tree, chanting, retreading the path his feet had made when he was young.
“My lovely girl
of grass and sky
of darkest hair
and greenest eye
Return to your
true form this night.
For a strange kind of fashion
There's a wrong and a right”
He closed his eyes as he circled for the final time, waiting to be reunited with his love. Unfortunately, he heard her before he saw her.
“What the HELL did you do that for, you bloody IDIOT?”
He’d forgotten the screeching pitch her voice reached when she yelled at him.
“You MORON! Do you know how awful it is to be a tree for FIFTY years?”
Indeed, he noticed, the years had not been kind to her. He’d forgotten that she’d been aging in that tree. Now, instead of a slender, dark-haired girl of 18, he had a fat, grey-haired granny yelling at him. The experience was far less pleasant.
His mouth twisted as she continued to screech.
“Birds crapped on ME! Ever been out in a storm? Try 50 YEARS worth, IDIOT! Do you know what it’s like to have nests in your hair? Eh?”
She paused to draw breath, turning purple as she let loose another volley of screaming.
“I’VE HAD TO PEE FOR 50 YEARS!”
He’d had enough. He pushed up sleeves and shouted, making himself heard over her noise.
“What was done,
Now undo.
Stay in that tree,
You awful shrew!”
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