The Spellweaver

The spellweaver weaves her way through life like a spider, enchanting all those who cross her path, both good and bad.  She does not believe in right or wrong, only what is necessity in the here and now.  She travels like a gypsy from town to town, making a living by creating bewitching potions and enchanting incantations for anyone who has money to pay. 

 

But for each one who comes to the spellweaver with a request, she casts the same spell back on them double.  That way they have to keep coming back for more.  She is not taken with avarice but needs to earn a living, and in this day and age when the art of casting spells has become a dark and forgotten one, she must do what she can to survive.  Like Darwin's survival of the fittest, she must use her talents - for they are very real - to her best advantage. 

 

She reads the stars to know when her welcome has been worn and she must return to her nomadic lifestyle, bound to wander to the ends of the earth like a ship who only sails the seas and never comes into port.  She has no anchor and so her heart never begs her to stay.  She leads a lonely life, but it is life nonetheless. 

 

And so the spellweaver goes on, weaving spells until her fingers are worn from all the work and she is too old to remember any more recipes or incantations.  But all is not lost, for everything she once knew is written on a length of cloth, thin and almost transparent, with just a hint of golden detail revealing the words a new spellweaver will need to continue her journey.  When she has finally finished, she closes her eyes and lays back.  She is finally at peace. 

 

A gust of desert wind sweeps up the cloth and carries it away, dipping tantalizingly low in some places, but not resting until it has found the one it seeks.  There it drops the cloth at the feet of a young girl, dozing in the midday sun.  When she wakes she will find the curious cloth, and being so engrossed in the words within its weavings, she will not notice the presence of the spellweaver has taken her over. 

 

It is now her turn to bewitch all who come near and to wander endlessly until the spellweaver sees fit to leave her body and soul to the desert. 

 

It is a lonely life, but it is life nonetheless.