For Abbey

      By Belinda Brady
      
      
      I look at the cauldron before me, bubbling away patiently awaiting my command. Normally, I'd have something fun and exciting in mind for my Halloween spell, but not today. My mind has been blank ever since last week….
      
      That thought sparks something in my mind, like a fleeting thought. My stomach churns at the memory that is trying to break through the brick wall in my mind. I put the book down, and walk over to my stool and sit, placing my fingers on my temples and closing my eyes as I do.
      
      The flashes start almost instantly. Yelling, crying, whimpering. The flashes of memory banging at that brick wall, determined to smash it. The flashes get stronger, tugging at my gut, making me wince as the memory stirs and awakens. The brick wall falls away in my mind, and the memory comes flooding in, awakening every single sense, and making my stomach finally drop.
      
      A woman. A woman is crying, wailing. She is begging me to stop, to let her go.
      
      "Did you stop for Abbey?" I hear myself scream at her.
      
      My mind races back to the dark reality hiding underneath all of this pain and noise.
      
      I was distracted by Halloween. Well, decorating for Halloween anyway. It is my favourite time of year and the moment the calendar ticks over to October 1st, the decorations are up. That's how she got out. I must have left the door ajar when I went to grab some pumpkins from the shed. The rest is a horrible blur. The screeching of tires right outside my house. Me jumping up out of my seat, pulling my front door open and running to the yard. I see the car, a red car, speed off as a I approach the road, leaving a black lump in its wake.
      
      A bleeding black lump.
      
      I scream, collapsing on the rain-covered road, picking up the black lump that is, was, my black cat Abbey. She is gone and there is nothing I can do for her. I cradle her tiny body in my arms and howl as my neighbours come out to see what the fuss is all about. In all the commotion, one mentions she managed to get the car's registration plate.
      
      I pay the driver a visit the day after I buried Abbey underneath her favourite tree in the backyard. The big leafy one she loved to nap under in the warmer months. The driver, a middle-aged portly woman, offered no apology, instead berated me for letting my cat "roam the streets" before ordering me off her property.
      
      I return that night, in the autumn darkness, and force her from her bed and into my car, magic tingling my fingertips as I keep her quiet and restrained. Back at my house, in my basement, my magic holds her to the table, and the cauldron helps me cook up her fate. This woman can feel every bit of pain that Abbey did, only worse, until I decide she has had enough.
      Resolve replacing my grief, I get back up off the stool and go over to the woman, who is half conscious, but determined to try and keep her eyes on me.
      
      "Please stop," she whimpers.
      
      I love Halloween for many reasons. The vibe, the spookiness, the history of the day itself. But the real reason? Halloween, All Hallows' Eve, is the day the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest and as a result my powers are increased tenfold. My ancestors who were burned at the stake or hanged for witchcraft all those years ago always help me out at this time of year and I will be forever grateful.
      
      I laugh as I lean in, my nose inches from hers.
      
      "Did you stop for Abbey?"