14October2025 Diary
We had just left The Ivy in Manchester, where James and I had celebrated his birthday. The evening had gone off without a hitch: a crowded room full of family, colleagues and a few acquaintances Id never met before, but James insisted on inviting them, so it must have been for a reason.
Im not one to argue with James; I prefer to keep the peace rather than prove a point, so I go along with his decisions.
Emily, could you fetch the keys? he asked.
I rummaged through my handbag, searching for the metal ring. Suddenly a sharp sting shot up my arm, and the bag slipped from my grasp onto the floor.
What happened? James asked, alarmed.
I think Ive pricked myself.
My bags a right maze, no wonder something turns up.
I didnt argue. I lifted the handbag, eased the keys out, and we stepped into the flat. The pain in my hand faded into the background as fatigue settled in my legs. All I could think of was a hot shower and a soft bed.
By morning the swelling and redness in my finger had worsened. Remembering the incident from the night before, I pulled the handbag open and, after a careful rummage, found a large, rusted needle tucked at the bottom.
What on earth? I muttered, baffled at how it could have ended up there. I tossed the needle into the bin, fetched some antiseptic and bandaged the wound. By noon I felt a fever creep up, my head throbbed and my whole body ached.
I called James:
Love, Im not sure what to do. I think I caught something nasty last night. Ive got a temperature, a splitting headache, body aches I even found that rusty needle in my bag thats what pricked me.
Maybe you should see a doctor, he replied. It could be tetanus or an infection.
Ive already cleaned the wound, Ill be fine.
But the hours only made me feel worse. I barely made it through the afternoon, then ordered a black cab home, knowing the bus would be too taxing. I collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep.
In my dream my late grandmother Margaret appeared, her frail, bent figure somehow comforting rather than frightening. She led me through a field, pointing out herbs to gather, insisting I brew a tea to cleanse my body. She warned that someone wanted to harm me, and that I must survive to fight back. Time was running short.
I awoke drenched in sweat. It felt like Id slept for ages, yet a glance at the clock showed only a few minutes had passed. The front door slammed open James was back. I slipped off the sofa and shuffled to the hallway. He stopped dead, his breath caught in his throat.
Whats happened? Look at yourself in the mirror.
I stared at my reflection. Yesterday morning Id seen a bright, smiling face; now my hair was tangled, dark circles lined my eyes, my skin pale, my stare empty.
What is this? I whispered, recalling the dream.
I saw my grandmother in the dream, she told me what to do.
Emily, get dressed. Were going to the hospital.
No, the grandmother said doctors wont help.
A fierce argument erupted. James called me mad, saying my feverinduced visions were nonsense. For the first time we truly clashed. He tried to force me out of the flat, grabbing my arm.
I wont go willingly, Ill make you.
I broke free, lost my balance and struck my head on a cupboard corner. James flared, threw the bag over his shoulder, slammed the door and stormed out. I managed only to email my boss, stating I was ill and needed a few days off.
He returned after midnight, apologetic, but I could only say, Take me to the village where my grandmother lived tomorrow.
The next morning I looked more like a walking corpse than a healthy woman. James kept urging, Dont be foolish, we must go to the hospital. I dont want to lose you.
We drove to the small village of Ashby, a place I hadnt visited since my parents sold my grandmothers cottage after Margaret passed. I slept through most of the journey. As we neared the village, I woke and told James, Here.
We got out of the car, and I collapsed onto the grass, exhausted but convinced I was where my grandmother had led me in the dream. I gathered the herbs shed shown me, and James brewed a decoction exactly as I instructed. I sipped it in small draughts, feeling a gradual warmth return.
When I finally reached the bathroom, I was shocked to see my urine was black. It didnt frighten me; it only reminded me of my grandmothers words: The darkness will pass.
That night the dream returned. My grandmother, smiling, spoke again:
The rusted needle placed a curse on you. My tea will give you strength, but only briefly. You must find who did this and return their evil. I cant see who it was, but its linked to your husband. Had you not discarded the needle, I could have told you more.
She instructed me to buy a pack of needles, say aloud over the largest one, Spirits of the night, hear me! Reveal the truth, guide me to my foe. Then I should slip that needle into Jamess bag. The one who cast the spell would prick themselves on it, and we would learn their name.
I awoke still weak, but certain I would recover. James decided to stay home and look after me. He was surprised when I asked to go to the shop alone.
Emily, youre barely on your feet. Ill come with you.
No, Im starving after all this illness; make me some soup.
Following my grandmothers advice, I placed the enchanted needle in Jamess bag before bedtime. He asked, Are you sure youll manage on your own? Should I stay?
I can do it, I said.
By the third day the brew acted like an antidote; the malice inside me waned. I waited impatiently for James to finish work. When he arrived, the first thing I asked was, How was your day?
He answered, All good, why?
Then he added, Imagine this: Iwona, a colleague from the neighbouring department, tried to help me by reaching for the keys to my office, but she slipped a needle into her bag and hurt herself. Where did that needle come from? She glared at me like she might kill me with a look.
What about Iwona? I asked.
Emily, youre the only one who matters to me. I love only you.
Was she at your birthday dinner?
Yes, just a friendly acquaintance.
The pieces fell into place. I understood how the old needle had ended up in my bag. James went to the kitchen, where dinner waited. That night my grandmother showed me how to return the evil to Iwona, explaining that Iwona wanted to eliminate me as a rival for Jamess affection and would have used black magic again if thwarted.
Following the ritual, James later told me Iwona had taken sick leave, claiming she was gravely ill and doctors were helpless. I asked James to drive me for a weekend to the village, to the cemetery where I hadnt been since my grandmothers funeral. I bought a bouquet, gloves, and, after a difficult search, found Margarets grave. I placed a photo of her on the headstone, arranged the flowers in a bottle of water, and sat on the bench, speaking aloud:
Grandma, Im sorry I didnt visit sooner. I thought a yearly dropby was enough. I was wrong. Ill come more often. If it werent for you, I might not be here now.
I felt a gentle presence on my shoulders, then a soft wind brushed pastnothing more.
Looking back, I realise that stubbornness and fear can cloud judgment, but listening to quiet wisdom, even when it comes from a dream, can steer you toward the truth. Ive learned that love means standing together, facing the unseen together, and never dismissing a gut feeling outright. This ordeal has taught me to trust both heart and head, and to act with patience and courage when darkness looms.
