Christa posed herself in a circle of candles and mixed grave dirt with the other ingredients as she spoke her incantation through tears, “Flesh and bone, your oats were sown. Flesh and bone, return to me, so I may not be alone,” Christa chanted as she continued to blend the elements of the bronze bowl before the faded photo.
When the spell was completed, she waited. She desperately clutched the old photo in her hands, still quietly weeping. When Christa had given up hope for a reunion, a knock sounded at the door.
Finally, her dead husband had come home.
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