Charlie woke up that morning feeling a sense of dread. As if the walls in his house had closed in slightly. Not enough to cause alarm but just an inch so that he was left confused and cautious. He could feel his heart beat in his stomach and his eyes seemed to flit around his usual space as if they could not be controlled, vibrating in his skull.

He could hear the voices of his family downstairs and the voice of the woman who he had professed his love to chuckling to his father’s jokes. Yet that laugh that had previously brought joy seemed to spark nothing. That nothingness, a vacuous feeling in his chest made Charlie pause.

As his hand hovered over the wooden banister he looked out of the window to the large grounds which made up his family’s estate. These gardens, full of florals and greenery had appeared so vibrant these last few weeks. But now, they seemed dulled. Their colour drained away as if winter was slowly seeping in. The roses appeared dusty, the grass like it was covered in an icy dew and the tulips like a fog was obscuring them.

Charlie ran a hand over his face, an attempt to wake himself, force himself to feel something. He thought that something would be better than this nothing which had crept into his world.

Charlie did not realise the depths of his misfortune until his feet touched the landing and his eyes landed on his love’s. She was still as beautiful as ever. Her eyes glowed and rounded cheeks caught the light and glimmered as she smiled up at him. Yet when he looked upon her he failed to feel any semblance of the depth he once felt previously.

His emotions towards his love from the moment he had laid his eyes on her were visceral. It had felt like he was suffering a fever. His hands used to sweat and he struggled to stay balanced like his whole body was drawn to hers. A sheer magnetism, he had called it whilst she leant closer and closer to him.

Charlie looked at his love and instead saw a woman. A simple woman who did not make his pulse race and his body pull closer. His face must have revealed his thoughts as her cheeks dropped and her eyes scanned him over, worry flashing across her features.

“Charlie, my love, good morning.” She said as she stood to meet him in their usual morning embrace. Her hand reached to grab his and when their skin met Charlie quickly winced away. There was a coldness when there was usually warmth. He could feel the texture of her hand and the slight drag of her nails against his skin and instead of feeling exhilarated he was nauseated.

“Who are you?” He asked, moving away so quickly his back smacked against a cabinet.

Before she could speak, a cold breeze flew through the air and a soft chuckle reverberated along the walls, “oh, Miranda, did you forget what day it is?”

Her face drained of colour, and her hands gripped at her skirts and she turned to speak to his family, “I - I’m sorry, I am. Please know how sorry I am.”

The voice laughed once more before the light pouring in from the window seemed to gather together and formed a ray of light so bright everyone in the room had to cover their eyes. When the light dimmed and the room could once again be looked upon, a small aged woman was sat on the table, feet dangling off the edge.

Her wrinkled hands lent into the bread bowl and plucked a warm bun from the pile, “You see, family of Charlie, this woman you see here made a deal with me 6 months ago.”

Miranda looked down in shame whilst his mother glared at her, lip pulled upwards in disgust.

“A deal? Miranda, what - can you explain?” Charlie asked.

“My dear boy, sweet boy. She did tell me you were handsome but oh aren’t you just. I’ll cut the story short, as it’s a long and complicated story. Have you noticed that today you feel a bit different towards your lady love?” The old woman took a large bite out of the bun which she had been toying with and waited for Charlie to nod. She continued with her mouth full, “that’s because it’s worn off, you see.”

“Worn off? What’s worn off?” He demanded.

The woman giggled now, kicking her feet in front of her in excitement, “Miranda shall I tell him or do you want to?”

Miranda turned her head sharply towards the woman and ran towards her, pushing the empty chairs out of her. The woman laughed again and simply held her hands up and Miranda stilled, frozen except for her eyes which now welled with angry tears.

“I guess I’ll tell him though, if you do so insist. You see, Charles, can I call you Charles? I find it’s more fitting for a strapping lad like yourself. Well, Charles, Miranda asked me to put a love spell on you. I did so kindly oblige but she failed to meet her end of the deal so,” she paused and took another mouthful, “its run out.”