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  • Maureen Stevenson

THE STONE TICKET




"I SUMMON THEE!"


The words echoed through the air while the wind raged, and waves crashed the rocks, spraying my face with a cool mist.


The witch promised the spell would bring her back, but so far, only the elements responded. It has been a year since her death.


Digging in my pocket, I pulled out the stone ticket the witch had given me. Pure white, smooth, and flat,


I wiped my face and stood. Whispering the spell one last time, throwing it.


It skipped across the water nine times; she appeared calling to me, reaching out with her arms.

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