Of all the ways I thought I might be kidnapped, Daphne Parker wasn’t one of them. That likely may happen since she is stalking me like a dog does a squirrel. I try my best to forget what I just saw. I think of how I’ll convince her I won’t say a thing. But my brain keeps replaying that moment: Daphne Parker sitting on the ground, her back leaning up against the traffic post, my eyes landing on what she was holding, then the unfortunate moment of eye contact. Her eyes were daggers. 

Trying to rack my brain on how I got here in the first place, my mind goes back to this morning. I checked the forecast like I did every morning before school, and packed my umbrella because of the predicted rain. I failed to notice that today was Halloween. To me, it was just another Monday. I’ve never understood the people who went all out for it, especially those who wear their costumes all day at school. When I walked through the glass doors, I was nearly the only one wearing normal clothes. Witches and ghouls were parading the hallways, making jokes about my lack of a costume. 

“He decided to go as Benjamin McKee this year? That is scary,” a nondescript witch joked while in earshot. 

Even Daphne Parker dressed up as a ghost, or at least I think that’s what she was going for. She was either a ghost or a bedsheet. We unfortunately had a class together. She was one of those people everyone avoided due to her tendency to cause trouble. Today was no exception. After the teacher handed out our graded papers, Daphne Parker ripped hers up. I briefly saw the red F circled in the corner of the page before it became shreds. She shoveled the pieces into her backpack. At least she doesn’t litter. 

I managed to make it through the day unscathed. Although my reputation diminished even more due to my lack of a costume. As I was walking home, I stopped at a crosswalk, the stop signal glowing orange. And there Daphne Parker was, looking down at a paper. The same paper from earlier, perfectly intact. This time, an A was written in the corner. For a split second, she looked up and we made eye contact. The walk signal lit up, and I hurried on my way, hoping she didn’t notice. Well, I think she noticed. Because now I can see her following me in my peripheral vision. 

“Benjamin McKee,” Daphne breaks the silence. I stop and slowly turn around to face her. She’s still wearing the ghost costume, but now it looks like a weird dress, the two eye holes torn to make one larger one for her head to poke through. She approaches closer and stretches out her hand. “Give me your umbrella,” she demands. 

I give it to her, too frightened to even think. She pulls the umbrella open until it’s inside out, breaking it like a gust on a windy day. 

“We can do this the easy way… or the hard way,” she threatens. 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I plead. 

“Sorry, but I know better than to trust anyone,” she says with a smirk. 

Before I can respond, Daphne grabs my hand, lifts the broken umbrella above her head, and we begin to soar into the sky. My brain cannot process what’s going on. All I can manage to do is scream for dear life. 

“What are you doing?” I yell, clinging to her hand with all my strength. 

“I’m temporarily kidnapping you so I can wipe your memory,” she giggles maniacally. My stomach sinks as I look below us. The city is tiny from up here, and the air feels like ice on my skin. Before I know it, we are heading straight for a house. I squirm and scream as we get closer and closer. At the last moment, the window flies open and we soar through. We land roughly, and I fall hard to the floor. 

“Sorry, I’m still working on that part,” Daphne says, having landed like a cat on her feet. 

She snaps at the window, making it slam shut. 

“Now, where is my memory spell book?” Daphne walks over to a bookshelf, one of many in her room, packed to the brim with books. “Huh, I can’t remember where my memory spell book is. Kind of ironic.” 

“I thought you were lying about your grade! Not performing dark magic!” I yell, still hunched on the rug. 

“Really? Well, either way, I can’t let anyone know. My parents will kill me, literally. Then, they’d just raise me back to life. They call it being grounded…” She rolls her eyes like what she said was any bit normal. 

As I stand up, I hear the sound of the door locking behind me. “So, you’re a witch?”

“Yep,” she answers half-heartedly, preoccupied with finding the book. My mind conjures the Salem witch trials. I guess I don’t blame her for not wanting anyone to find out. The world tends to burn unusual things at the stake. 

“Why did you dress up as a ghost?” I ask, pointing to the white bedsheet she’s wearing that’s dragging along the dark wooden floors. 

“What? Do you think I should dress up as a witch? A green witch with a huge wart on my nose and a big black hat? I hate the way we are depicted. Witches are always old and gross! We’re always cast as the villain!”

“Says the person who kidnapped me!” She faces me, her lips pursed. 

“You know what, Touche.” Turning back to the shelf, she continues rummaging through the collection. I look around the room. It’s dark; the only lights are string lights hanging along the bookshelves. An emerald green chair sits in the corner, beside a huge stack of books with an empty tea cup on top. A large wooden table stands along one wall, with flower petals, odd-looking roots, and glass jars of mysterious liquids strewn on top. 

“You’re going to wipe my memory?” I ask, studying one of the roots. 

Out of nowhere, Daphne snatches it out of my hand. “Don’t touch anything,” she says. “I’m just going to wipe your memory of today. Nothing else.” 

“After you wipe my memory, you’ll leave me alone?” I ask as she looks through the stack of books by her chair. 

“Yes, but it would be over sooner if I could find this darn book!” she exclaims, throwing her arms into the air and stomping her feet. I flinch, expecting something to happen. The room is still. “I kind of hoped that would work,” Daphne shrugs. She slouches down into her green chair, the ghost costume dissolving to reveal the skull tee-shirt and patchwork jeans she’s wearing underneath. “Oh no. Now I remember,” Daphne places her hands on her head. 

“What?” 

“I let her borrow it.”

“Who?”

“My friend Lucinda. She’s convinced that she can learn magic. I’ve been letting her borrow my spell books. I forgot that she borrowed my memory book…” 

“Yeah, you really need that book back.”

“Shut it.” 

★☆★☆

We’re going to a party now, Lucinda’s Halloween party. Daphne makes my clothes transform into a cowboy costume with spurred boots and everything. She claims it is important that I blend in. Her ghost costume reappears with the eye holes intact. 

“I can’t wait for Lucy to see my costume,” Daphne giggles from under the sheet. I didn’t get why, though. Despite my complaints, we used the umbrella as transportation to the event. At least I know what to expect, and the landing is better; I have a bush to catch my fall this time. I climb out of the shrub as Daphne rings the doorbell. The house is huge, with the sound of Halloween-y music coming from it. I can see multicolored lights in the windows. The door opens as I stand beside Daphne. 

“Daph! You made it!” On the other side of the door is a girl wearing a white mask and a big, black, pointy hat. Daphne hugs her. This must be Lucinda. “And your costume, that’s hilarious!” The music floods out of the house. 

“I like yours too!” Daphne laughs. Lucinda notices me standing in the doorway. 

“Benjamin McKee? He’s one of us?”

“It’s a long story. I actually need you to give me back the book you were borrowing.” 

“Now?” 

“Yes, it’s urgent.” 

“Fine. Come on in,” Lucinda gestures to me. 

From the entryway, I can see there are a lot of people here, dancing in their costumes, ladling suspicious punch into plastic cups, and shoveling candy until they get cavities. 

“Benjamin!” Daphne’s voice brings me back to the matter at hand. She’s ascending the spiral staircase, following Lucinda. I catch up to them at the top of the stairs. Lucinda pulls on a string leading to the ceiling, opening the door to the attic. 

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“The attic, obviously,” Daphne says as she climbs the ladder. I continue to follow them, very confused, but it wouldn’t be the first time today. As my head pokes into the attic, I’m surprised by how nice it is. There are no cobwebs or dusty boxes like in my attic. The furniture is arranged nicely, in a way to designate sections. We’re standing in what appears to be the sitting room. There are three tufted chairs arranged around a coffee table, with dressers and a wardrobe surrounding it, making it feel like a room. Lucinda hands Daphne a large leather book with gilding on the edges of the pages. The cover reads “Top 50 Memory Spells You’ll Never Forget.” 

“Don’t say it,” Daphne says, pointing an accusatory finger at me. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I reply, holding my hands up. 

“Sure you weren’t.” Her voice sounds bitter, but the smirk she wears tells another thing. 

“Can you stay for the party?” Lucinda asks, adjusting her hat. 

Standing closer to her, I realize my original impression was all wrong. She isn’t wearing a mask. Her skin is just so pale that it looks white. I begin to connect some of the dots in my head. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Daphne replies, crossing her arms and looking at me. “We can’t,” she corrects, clearing her throat. 

“Next party we have, I’ll make sure to invite you, Benjamin,” Lucinda says, holding out her hand for me to shake. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Daphne says, pulling my arm as she goes down the ladder. 

As we’re heading out the front door, I whisper to Daphne, “Is Lucinda human?”

She looks at me, her eyes full of mischief. “She was… when she was alive.” 

★☆★☆

We’re standing outside my house, now. My neighborhood is a harsh contrast to Lucinda’s. Actually, is it really her house? 

 Daphne is flipping through the pages of the memory spell book, trying to find the right one. It’s taking a while. It’s given me time to think of everything that happened today. My stomach turns as I remember… I’ll forget it all. 

“So, this spell…” I begin, “I’ll forget everything that happened today?”

“Correctamundo,” she nods. The streetlight is casting a golden glow on her face. 

“I’ll forget about meeting you.”

“Yep. And don’t worry, I’ll act like this never happened,” she replies, still preoccupied. She lifts up the book. “Here’s the spell!” She steps closer, ready to cast it. 

“What if I don’t forget?” I interrupt. Her face is drawn in confusion. 

“But you have to,” she says, adjusting the heavy book in her hands. 

“I don’t want to forget. Not anymore. I promise, your secret will be safe with me–” 

“No. You have to forget.” Her brows are furrowed. 

“What would be so bad if I didn’t?”

“Ben, I learned the hard way that humans can’t be friends with magic folk.” Standing closer to her, I see tears welling in her eyes. It takes me aback. 

“This has happened before?” I deduce. 

She turns away from me, hiding her face. A lone car drives past, its headlights lighting up the dark road. We wait in silence and watch it disappear onto another street. 

“A year ago. And it went all wrong,” Daphne begins, examining her hands. “She lost her life because of me, and unlike magic folk, the end of a human life is the end forever.” She uses her sleeves to wipe her face, then turns back to face me. 

“It’s why my parents think I’m a screwup. It’s why the school hates me. Memory spells still leave a trace. People don’t know why they don’t like me, but they still do. So, do yourself a favor and let me cast this spell.” 

“No, I don’t want to forget about you,” I reply.  

“Benjamin McKee, don’t you dare.” 

“I dare, Daphne Parker.” 

A moment of silence. I hold my breath. She looks down, breaking the intensity of our gaze. But in the blink of a moment, she breaks the silence. 

“I told you already, I know better than to trust anyone.”

★☆★☆

I woke up this morning feeling so… strange. I can’t remember anything from yesterday. Yet, I have notes I wrote in class, with the date in the corner. I spent the whole day trying to catch up, trying to understand how I could have forgotten…

★☆★☆

Daphne Parker is a strange girl. Today, she gave me my umbrella. I must have lost it somehow. She asked if she could sit with me for lunch, and I didn’t know how to say no. She asked me about the book I was reading. I’m actually kind of glad she did.

---

Rachel Spayd is a writer and librarian from Stockbridge, Georgia. She studied English and Creative Writing at Georgia College and State University. This is her first publication and she aspires to become a published author in the future.