Friday Romance: Lover's Lane (A Halloween Romance) Parts 1-3
“Brews and bubbles and doors and knobs, this world knows only keys and jobs. From one end of the map to the Lover’s Lane, make my beloved here again.”
On All Hallows Eve, a witch stood before a cauldron in a cabin cast far into the woods.
Faye wasn’t sure how her brew would turn out. The market in the village just outside the woods didn’t have any eye of newt left and so she opted for eye of toad. Would it be the same?
As she stirred, she thought about the events a year prior that lead to her making her first batch of Lover’s Lane.
During a routine walk through the woods behind her cabin, Faye stumbled upon a man camping. He’d setup a small site, with a tent for one, a smothered fire pit, and a tree stump for a chair. He stood outside his bright yellow tent, stretching his back as she passed by.
“Hello there,” he said. He stood a foot or so above Faye, with dark slacks and a billowy white shirt. His hair, unkempt and long, was as light as the wood in the center of the stump. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors this morning or I would have picked up some leaves.”
“Hello,” she replied. She couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. “I’m just passing through. I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Just passing through.” He knelt and picked up a tin cup from the ground. “Did you want any coffee? I just brewed some.”
“No thank you, I’d better be on my way.”
“Very well. It was a pleasure meeting you…”
“Faye.”
“It’s been a pleasure, Faye. The name’s Markop.”
As she continued her stroll through the woods, she thought about the curious man with the curious name. Markop. She wished she’d taken the time to speak with him more. Would he still be there when she turned back?
“Back so soon?” said Markop as Faye passed his camp once more.
“So soon?” she said. “It’s been nearly an hour.”
“Time passes quickly when you have coffee running through your veins. Have you ever tried it?”
She shook her head. She’d grown up drinking mushroom tea, which her mother said was just as good.
“I can’t say that I have,” she replied.
“Have a seat,” said Markop. “You must try a cup. Just one. A sip even. I’ve traveled all over the world and have procured the finest blend.”
All over the world? Faye had never even left her village.
“What do you do?” asked Faye. “I mean, what brought you around the world?”
“Wars,” he replied. “Conquest. I spent most of my youth in the royal army. Since retiring last year, ha… Retiring. The ripe age of thirty-six. Can you believe it? Anyway, since retiring, I’ve been traveling around the world. I tell myself it’s been in search of the perfect blend, but what I really want is a place to call home. I’d open up my own coffeehouse.”
“A coffeehouse?”
“I noticed the village here doesn’t have one. It’s a place where one goes to mingle with others and drink delicious brews. The brews being coffee. Did you still want to try some?”
Faye nodded.
He produced another tin cup and poured dark liquid from a canteen into it.
“Bottoms up,” he said. He poured himself one and then clinked his cup against hers.
The drink certainly smelled nice. It reminded her of the mushroom tea her mother had made, mixed with… Hazelnut?
She took a sip.
“It’s extraordinary,” she replied. “Do you have more?”
“I can make more.”
She’d stayed at Markop’s camp until the sun disappeared behind the trees.
“I’d better be on my way,” she said. “It was a pleasure spending the day with you. Will you be here tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid I leave in the morning,” he replied. “Although, and this isn’t common, I believe I will find myself returning to this corner of the world soon. That is, if you’ll still be here.”
“Always,” she replied.
“Then I’ll see you during a future stroll.”
As the weeks turned into months, Faye wasn’t sure if she’d ever see Markop again. She’d taken a stroll each day through the woods in search of his yellow tent.
After a year had passed, she discovered an envelope on her doorstep. She waved down the local delivery man as he walked away.
“Oh, Willem!” she called out. “Who is this from?”
Willem, a grey-haired man with a mustache bigger than his face, smiled and waved back.
“It arrived just this morning,” he replied. “Royal mail doesn’t make it to our little village very often. You’ll notice the crest on the other side where it’s sealed. As for who it’s from, only you can find out. However, if you stop by the pub later and share the news, I wouldn’t mind finding out myself.”
As Willem walked off, Faye tore open the envelope.
Dear Faye,
I hope this letter finds you well. Not a day has passed that I haven’t thought of our joyous conversations in the woods. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Since our meeting, I’ve traveled far and wide. Coin has a way of disappearing when you’re spending your days traveling instead of working. I’m currently working at a butcher shop in order to save up enough money to see you again.
I hope the day we meet again will be soon.
I’ll see you during a future stroll,
Markop
Faye checked the instructions once more. The next ingredient had a smudge over the second word. Rat tail? Rat tongue? Rat tattoo? She shook her head.
She dropped both into the cauldron. A puff of purple smoke rose up and through the cracks in the ceiling.
Is it going to work? What was the next step?
“The enchantment,” she whispered. She took in a deep breath. In order for the enchantment to work, it had to be spoken in a single breath. “Brews and bubbles and doors and knobs, this world knows only keys and jobs. From one end of the map to the Lover’s Lane, make my beloved here again.”
Blue smoke spilled from the cauldron. Faye took a step back. Had her potion worked?
Instead of rising to the ceiling as it had done before, the smoke cascaded over the sides of the cauldron and onto the floor. It culminated into the middle of the room and stirred itself into a spiral.
Faye’s eyes grew wide.
The spiral churned. Faster and faster. The smoke rose from the ground. In the smoke, Faye could barely make out a figure. A head, a torso. Fingers and toes.
The smoke dissipated. Faye couldn’t believe her eyes as Markop stood in the middle of the room.
“Is it really you?” she asked.
“Where am I?” asked Markop. He spun around the room. “I was just… Faye? How can this be?”
“You’re back,” she said. She pointed to the cauldron. “I used a potion. Well, I made it. I’m a… Witch. I know I should’ve mentioned it upon our meeting, but I…”
“This is brilliant,” said Markop. “This is wonderful. This is stupendous! You’re extraordinary. I thought such things were only in children’s tales.”
“Those ideas didn’t just come out of thin air,” she replied.
Markop took a step toward her. She offered her hand, and he lifted it to his lips.
“My dear Faye,” he said. “It’s been far too long. However can I thank you?”
“Our village is still in need of a coffeehouse.”
He smiled.
“Of course,” he replied. “I sense a new adventure is just beginning.”
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