Out with the old

Word count: 975

I lifted my aching body off of my bed, shaking my head to clear it from the last vestiges of sleep. Dreading the touch of the cold floor on my feet, I hesitantly stepped into my cabin. Moving gingerly, mindful of the age of my old body, I strode to the cabinet across the room. As I moved, I unconsciously ducked my head to avoid the tangled strands of herbs that hung from the rafters.

Picking up the calendar on my desk, I checked the entries for the day: "Wart removal potion due to unsuspecting farmer boy. Remember, only 214 shopping days til Beltine!" I groaned at the thought of 214 more days. This aged body of mine wouldn't even last another three weeks. I stripped off my robe, gazing sadly at the withered breasts and growing paunch. So much for the old Virgin Goddess bit. It was time for a Renewal.
I pulled out a drawer in my desk, and lifted out a crystal ball. Setting the item reverently upon a table, I gasped with delight. "Ah! There it is!," and removed my address book from the same drawer.
My first call was to a two hundred and thirteen year old man living in Chicago. He ran a successful painting business, calling it Robert's and sons, although he was both Robert and Sons. In return for the potion of longevity, he had carelessly left me an I.O.U. Foolish mortals. Never leave a witch an open favor; she'll always take you up on it.
"Robert's and Sons; painting a smile on your face. How can I help you?" I rolled my eyes at the cheesy sales pitch. "Bob, this is Luesthra. You owe me a favor." I swear, I could hear his eyes growing wide, and his knees begin knocking together. "Uh...sure. Anything to help. Whatcha need?"
" I need you to come visit me in person. Be here in three days." He stammered into the phone, protesting that he had no idea how to reach me, and I spoke a single word in a language for which there are no letters. Instantly, the location of my home was imprinted in his mind.
Robert should be sufficient, but just in case, I hopped a plane to St. Louis in order to meet with someone else.
That's right. I took a plane. Not a broomstick. Since airplanes were invented, I haven't flown a broomstick, for a number of reasons: 1. There are no movies on broomsticks. 2. They don't serve you peanuts and overpriced vodka on broomsticks, and 3. Sitting on a broom stick is like...is like....well, try this little experiment. (Those with Y chromosomes might wish to forego this experience.) Find two surfaces whose distance from the ground is greater than the length of your legs. Kitchen counters or large boulders work well for this. Place the ends of the broomstick on either side of the gap. Sit on the broomstick. Not fun. Not to mention the splinters.

Once the plane had landed, I shuffled off to hail a taxi. As the noise and congestion of Lambert Airport deafened me, I once again rejoiced that I had chosen to live a life of solitude, away from this clamor. I stopped at a bar near the riverfront, and stepped up behind a young woman in full biker-chick regalia: boots, leather jacket, peroxide-blond hair, and an honest-to-god spiked collar.
"Linda...." I called in a singsong voice.
She turned and pulled me into a crushing embrace. "Lu! So good to see you! I take it you're just passing through?"
Everything about her voice screamed mendacity. She truly did hope I was just passing through, and I wouldn't collect on the little favor she owed me in return for curing some diseases of a very...personal...nature. I nodded, slowly, encouraging the hope that blossomed in her eyes. Then, relishing the moment, I snuffed the hope out, leaving black despair.
"My place. Three days. Be there, or I'll set a harpy on you before you can blink." I repeated the imprint procedure I'd used on Bob, and uttered the word of recall that would take me home.
On the third day, I rose from my bed. I sat on the edge of the cot, waiting. As the sun passed high overhead, I heard muffled voices.
"So why are you here?"
"same reason you are. I owe the damn witch a favor."
The two stepped inside, and I shooed them off.
"no, no, back outside! Go stand in the circle of stones. The one right next to the begonias."
The two complied. As they walked out the door, I lifted my pillow, revealing a wicked looking dagger. Tucking it into my robes, I trotted out, already feeling younger.
The two were waiting uneasily in the ritual circle. I bade them both lie down on their backs, and danced around them, sprinkling certain herbs over their heads as I spoke words in a tongue that has neither a name nor a country, a language meant only for magic.
"And bind it to me," I finished, and cut Bob's throat with the dagger. He gave rattling, gurgling sigh, and died. Already, I could feel his strength seeping into me. My withered flesh began to firm, and I smiled at the thought of once again having high and tight breasts.
Just as the transfer was almost complete, I opened my eyes. As I suspected, Robert couldn't provide all the sustenance I needed- I wasn't taking his life, I was taking the unnatural life span I had given him. To complete the Renewal, I needed a true mortal.
I bent over Linda to complete the ritual.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, my dear, but you must understand," I apologized as my dagger began the first incision in her chest, "a good heart is hard to find these days."