The following week was a hectic rush to catch up on missed classwork and develop a plan for getting myself into Heather’s good graces. At least, that’s what I had originally intended to do. Instead I lost three more inches of height, bringing me down to a paltry 5’1”. Dread settled into the pit of my stomach.

I don’t consider myself to be the dramatic type, but it was starting to feel like my life was ending. I couldn’t go on shrinking like this and hoping things would somehow get better. I was shrinking. I had to be. The people I talked to were just confused or their memories had been altered. That had to be it; whoever cursed me had altered everyone’s memories. Shit, even my thoughts were starting to sound crazy to me. I had to do something.  

I dreamt every night now, images too numerous to describe, some recurring often. The ones I latched onto were a chalk circle surrounded by strange markings on a dusty floor. If that didn’t indicate magic then Hollywood had given me a very poor education on the subject. Either way, I was convinced my condition had something to do with the magic. I redoubled my research efforts online, digging through scientific studies and peer reviewed research papers concerning all things arcane. I even started posting on magic-centric message boards and sending e-mails to crackpots that ran witchcraft websites that looked like they hadn’t been updated since the 90s. Some of the replies I got back were incredibly disturbing.

Then I got a private message from Andy514 on popular witchcraft forum. He wrote:

CursedMike,

Your thread contained certain details that make me believe your story is true, so I will do what I can to help you.

The problems you describe sound like side effects from dark magic. Specifically, blood magic is most likely being used to drain your life force. By life force I mean your vitality. The body usually tries to fight this at first the same way a fever tries to fight off a virus. Unfortunately if you aren’t warded there is nothing your body can do. Once your physical health is depleted the magic will begin to eat away at other parts of you which causes the shrinking you have experienced.

You didn’t mention it in your post but I suspect you’ve been having strange dreams. Those are also side effect of having blood magic cast on you. E-mail me at Andy514@xmail.com, I think I can help you.

Andy  

I must have read the message twenty times before deciding to e-mail Andy back. Everyone sounded like a crackpot talking about this shit, but he had mentioned the dreams and that at least put him ahead of anyone else who had responded to me. I wrote back:

Andy,

Tell me what to do and I will be eternally grateful.

Sincerely,

Mike

A torturous day and a half passed before I got a response.

Mike,

I’m sure this whole thing seems crazy to you right now, it did to me too once, but it’s real. You are not crazy. I’ve attached instructions for a spell that will anchor you to this reality. You may have already learned this but magic works by investing our reality with energy from other universes. That is also the reason why reality tries to re-order itself to fit your new circumstances. It’s difficult to explain and I don’t understand even a tenth of what my girlfriend Caley does. The point is: If you are anchored to this universe blood magic can’t affect you.

Unfortunately this is not a long term fix. You have to make sure to maintain good physical and mental health or the ward will weaken and the magic will start draining you again. Every time you get sick or stressed out and the magic takes something from you the ward will get weaker. If the blood magic steals from you too many times the ward will fail completely.

I wish I had a better solution for you but until my girlfriend returns and can help you’re just going to have to hang in there.

Best of luck,

Andy

P.S. I almost forgot. Avoid sex. Your life force decreases dramatically after orgasm and it will weaken the ward. A slip up or two won’t kill you but celibacy is your best option. Sorry.

I read the last couple sentences over and over until I wanted to cry. If I didn’t want to shrink I couldn’t have sex? If the letter had been on paper I would have crumpled it up and thrown it across the room. Instead I kicked my desk then yelped at having stubbed my toe. He hadn’t even mentioned anything about getting my lost height back. Was it gone for good? How was I supposed to be okay with losing over half a foot of height? It took a while before I calmed down enough to open the attachment.

The instructions were fairly simple, strange, but simple. A quick run to the supermarket took care of the supplies I was lacking. I ended up standing in the center of my room staring down at a pile of spellcasting materials and wondering where my life went wrong.

In the end there was nothing to do but try the damn thing and hope for the best. My first two attempts were shaky- I had to keep referring back to the instructions and that broke some of the spell’s timing requirements. On my third try I finally got it right. My chest was marked with the rune, I was standing at the center of the circle, and I hadn’t flubbed any of the words. Nothing happened.

And then…

… When I was a kid I sometimes asked my dad to buy me lottery scratchers. I remember enjoying the simple act of scratching the thin metal film off. It wasn’t until much later that I actually hoped to win something from them. By then dozens and dozens of duds had taught me that I didn’t really have a chance of winning something big, but I hoped anyway. I wanted to believe I could win because imagining winning was exciting, but deep down- I knew it wouldn’t happen...

So when my chest burst into brilliant light and even more brilliant, searing pain- I was stunned. Magic was real.

Magic was real! I wasn’t crazy!

I’d convinced myself that I had lost my mind; all of my research into magic had been the wishful fantasies of a kid who wanted to win the lottery- only now I had. Granted, this lottery came in the form of searing pain and singed chest hair, but the sheer adrenaline of the moment overwhelmed all else.

“EAT SHIT HARRY POTTER!” I shouted, dancing around my room like a madman. “SHIT SHIT SHIT,” I let out a string of profanity as the burning reached an apex and began to fade. I looked down at my chest expecting to see the rune branded into it but it had vanished. The only evidence remaining was rune-shaped patch of missing hair.  

It was enough. Now all this ward had to do was work.