The spell called for blood or a rose. Pointea pondered that for a “spell.” She giggled a little at the bad joke and lifted the book closer to be sure that she was right.
Blood OR a Rose. No question about it. Pointea wondered about that. There was no mention of how much blood or even from who or what. Just blood. Well, OR a rose.
She looked carefully over her already gathered items for the spell. Strands of mane or tail from her chosen victim. Um, if the book was right, he was not going to feel like one. Wax from a bee hive that had never before been gathered from. Honey, ditto.
Her Wand of the Art. More of a staff, actually. That had been difficult to make correctly. A ritual knife. Not as difficult as the Wand, but certainly not easy.
A witchy looking black cloak, not necessary at all, apparently. It just looked spiffy! Same for her pointy wide brimmed hat. It all went really well with her dark gray, nearly black fur and her pure black mane and tail. Her eyes were black and so was the magic from her horn. All of that black helped to set the mood, after all, Nightmare Night was nearly here.
Pointea had not been invited to any Nightmare Night party at all. She muttered to herself, “If this works, I will have MY OWN PARTY!” She didn’t have a rose, not this late in the year. She did have plenty of blood. Since no amount was mentioned, she figured that a drop or two would be enough.
She set a small pot to hang on chains from a tripod set over the flames of a little fire. After that, she very carefully drew her circles of protection, using her knife. Each circle was set about with runes that should ward off evil. For each circle or rune, there was a small ceremony to be done.
She began with an incantation to draw favorable spirits to her working. Following directions carefully, after all, Grumpy Goat was a fine example of what could go wrong with non-equine magic, Pointea added her honey to the pot, waited for it to warm to a thin liquid and added the wax, stirring it in to make a uniform mixture. Taking her knife, she winced as she nicked her leg just above the hoof, allowing a few drops of her blood to fall into the mixture. Last, the hairs went in.
She was actually surprised when the hairs simply dissolved in the mixture, just as the book said that they would.
The whole mixture began to bubble up but instead of boiling over the sides of the pot, it swirled up into a smoke or fume!
The vapor gathered itself at a single place on one side of her circles. Pointea cut the circles with her knife and the mist flowed out, seeming to dissipate. That was all. Nothing further seemed to be happening.
Shrugging, Pointea tidied up the area so that no sign of her working remained and sauntered home. Either what she did worked or it did not. Patience was what she needed now.
She reflected that whether her spell worked or not, she did feel better for having done something. Maybe Nightmare Night would not be lonely and empty. She hoped.
Her black magic pushed the door of her cottage open. Her tidy home was a mess! Somepony had broken in while she was out!
She heard a noise coming from her bedroom. Gripping her wicked looking Knife of Art in her black magic, she called out, “Whoever you are, come out! I have the only door blocked. You can’t get away!”
An earth pony put his head around her bedroom door. He saw the knife held in magic so strong that it looked to be almost solid black!
He shuddered all over. Carefully and slowly he emerged. “There is no need for the knife, Ma'am. I give up. I made a bad mistake here. Let me show you.
“See, something near pulled me here to this cottage on the outskirts of town. At first, I was thinking to rob you. That is when I made this mess.”
Pointea paused and thought before asking, “At first? What changed your mind?”
“I saw that everything here was like, second hand store stuff. Really neat and tidy but poor pony’s stuff. As I sorted out that you were poor, like me, well, I started to try tidying up the mess that I made. I got the kitchen all straightened out and was working on the bedroom when you came in.”
It took only a glance toward the kitchen to show Pointea that it was tidy but not quite the way that she always left it.
She asked him, “Please stand away from the bedroom door. I wish to see something.”
Slightly hanging his head, he did stand aside. Pointea could see that the left side of her bedroom was still a bit of a mess. The right side, like the kitchen, was tidy, but not as she had left it.
Turning to him, she observed, “It appears that you are telling me the truth. You were tidying up.
“I do need to see your flanks. You have hidden your cutie mark.”
He nodded. “If you have me jailed, I guess that I deserve it.” He pulled away the flank covers and revealed his cutie mark.
Pointea sucked in her breath in surprise!
His flanks bore a blood red rose!