Commandment by Daryl Chestney Page A

stool. He hesitantly entered and explained his dilemma.
    “The crone listened to his case with a glimmer in her eye. Afterward, she claimed she could lead him to his heart’s desire, for a price. ‘Quid pro quo,’ she chanted. He must likewise do a favor for her. On completion of said chore, she would reciprocate and deliver the girl to his wanton bed.
    “Although the drunken confederate pleaded with my dad to elaborate, he refused to reveal the specifics of his bargain with the witch. That he was so tight-lipped about the contract, even in his tipsy state, only hinted at the horrors it entailed.
    “Having completed his end of the deal, he returned to the lighthouse. The crone then described a certain cursed stone, lost to ages from the clutches of man. The stone has a certain magical power, making the person who touches it fall madly in love with the next person their eyes cross. Hearing this, he was certain this was the key to the maid’s zipper.
    “The witch revealed a maligned recipe to obtain the stone. He must buy a cow squealing with dementia. Then he must slit its belly open and let the blood spill onto a pile of dried mugwort. At dusk, he was to burn the stained plant. The first person who walked through the smoke would lead him to the stone.
    “My father dutifully did as instructed. Who can say where he found a senile cow in those parts? He burned the mugwort, and the smoke drifted out the window and into a neighboring lane.
    “As he watched open-jawed through the window, a disheveled traveler wandered by and breeched the train of smoke. My father shadowed the fellow as he wandered into a field on the other side of the complex. There, as night was dropping, the journeyman lay down and slept under a rotted tree.
    “The next morning my father returned, shovel in hand, and began digging at the base of the trunk. Sure enough, he unearthed a sparkling stone from amid the hairy roots. With a gloved hand, he placed it in his pocket and ran off with glee.
    “The following morning, when the maiden was again swimming in the choppy pond, he stole from the rocks and placed the stone prominently near her discarded robe. As the maid emerged from her swim, she gasped at the sight of the twinkling jewel. As she picked it up to admire it, my father leapt from his hiding place. As presaged, the maiden was absolutely bewitched by the stone’s power. She was his forever.
    “But the clouds in her eyes were not the mists of love, but the suffocating smoke of slavery. She had forfeited her will to his whim. She doted on his every word. My father of course realized that it was not
true love
that governed her senses, but the distinction mattered little to the rakehell. All he could see was the line between her ass cheeks, the ‘line of life,’ he laughingly called it.
    “Curiously, her parents met with an untimely demise shortly thereafter, conveniently canceling their objections to the union. Whether or not this was truly accidental, or part of the stone’s power, nobody could say. On the way home from the funeral, they stopped off in the chapel to get married.
    “At this point, my father finished the story abruptly. His stunned audience demanded to know the fate of the bewitching jewel. The blackguard eventually succumbed before the pleas, boasting that it was well protected. He kept it locked up, and the key had never been removed from his person. He went on to boast that even if the stone was brought to light, it would have to be destroyed to set her heart free. He laughed that it was as hard as the Shamir rock of legend, so he was in no danger of losing his dutiful sex toy.
    “That very night, when he lay in a drunken coma, I pilfered the key from his coat pocket. I knew he kept a locked chest in the attic, one that I had found by accident once. For my curiosity, I was rewarded with this broken ankle,” Lakif paused to frown at her foot. “The deformity will follow me to the grave. Key in hand, I opened the chest