She was a very lovely lady. At one time she was a beauty pageant queen. The man next to her sprinted into her life when she was only seventeen and she thought it was love at first sight. Oh, how the lovely lady believed she loved him, loved him with her whole heart. But, like all beautiful things, this love went sour. Even though she wanted things to go perfect, as they had always been, well, at least for first year or so, she, like him, wanted to find a way to escape from the affair.

He was a cold-hearted man. However, when she first met him, his heart grew as large as the rest of him, which was now rather enormous. The man never believed loving her would ever be like how it was now. There were never any hugs; there were never any kisses. Even the expensive watch that she had given him had turned into a shackle, with its chain ending at her heart.

"So, are we doing anything tonight," she would ask him.

And he would answer, "No, do we ever?" And there was never another word spoken after that.

The man wanted a way to run out of her life. He felt a responsibility to her because he had been with her for so long. In his love toward her he had forgotten how to tell him the truth, how to be realistic with her, how to show her that he truly did love her. Promising marriage to her was a way in which he would not have to answer to his own ignorance on the matter, but she knew as he did that the promise was a delay to the inevitable.

But, something had happened to him to turn him so cold. The feeling did not leave his soul on its own accord. An event caused by the woman he loved had driven the feeling from his life. He had caught her talking to another man. This talk was not a matter of flirtation or a man wooing to his life, but just causal small talk. It was polite conversation that had proven to him that the love of his life was out of control, and must be stopped.

"Becky," he would ask his love, "do you really love me?"

"Of course I do, John. Now, lets go to bed." And that was the end of the interrogation in which John soon realized that her love for him was a mask. A mask that must be exposed and then controlled. Becky was in his life and for one reason, and it was for him to live out the rest of her life for her.

John knew of the man that lived in the shack at the end of the country road. The man was a wise man of some sort. It was rumored that he had practiced voodoo or something of that kind. The man in the shack was the mockery of the town and he had become a recluse in his small wooden shack. Perhaps, he needed some company. Perhaps, John could be his company.

It was a long drive to the shack. It took John about half an hour to reach the wise man’s dwellings. The shack was a word of deconstructed art. It was small by any and all means of the word; the shack on its whole was smaller then the tool shed that stood outside of John’s house. Written in large letters was the inscription: Keep Out! Obviously the wise man did not want any visitors in his wooden sanctuary, but John was desperate.

John was not for sure what he was desperate for. He just believed that there was something that the wise man could do for him that would be of some service in the controlling of Becky. A wave of excitement left through John’s veins as he knocked on the door of the wise man. Maybe, he would get a magic potion of some sorts, or a strange amulet that would make it impossible for Becky’s love to never be declared to anyone but him. Oh, it was all too exciting for him.

There was no answer. So, John tried again. No, this could not be happening to him. Not now, he thought. He believed that so much had happened to him that he did not deserve to be disappointed, after all, his wife was caught by him talking to another man. But, then he heard a rustling come emulate from behind a tree. And he heard a voice say, "Man, I’d say, you young ones are the dumb ones. You cannot even read the notice on the door."

The man with the voice stepped into the sunlight. He was a small man, of Caribbean decent, that fact was obvious from his accent. Behind him was a pallet on which there was a deer’s hide. A trail of blood followed behind him as though it was trying to draw itself to the wise man. Into the puddles of blood little animals such as squirrels and moles came over to lap it up in almost natural ritualistic fashion.

"I came here for your help," said John.

The wise man answered, "You came here to laugh at me. To laugh at my castle and my subjects." He brazenly flashed his hand across in a circle encompassing the small woods animals and his little shack.

"Listen, can we talk, maybe insider your house?" John asked.

"It doesn’t matter to me none, suit yourself. I don’t see how I can give you any help." And as the wise man said this he led the way toward his prized home. John realized it was an almost primal instinct that drew him to the small man. It was as though the piped piper had come to town, and John was listening to the fife.

Before John entered the house the wise man threw a handful of salt over his shoulder, which he obtained in a small pocket in his overcoat. The salt hit John and burned his skin; a stream of steam was emitted from his shoulder.

The wise man remarked, "Ah, now that is why you have come to bother me. You need an demon taken from you."

"Actually no, I need help. I need control," remarked John.

The wise man looked up, "But, there is so much evil in you. You must need control over the demon. Tell me, am I right or not?"

"Well, no," thought John, "the demon, I suppose, would be the love of my life. Well, her name is Becky and well, I saw her talking with another man."

"Do you sense adultery?" asked the small wise man who was now sitting himself down on a small stool. Ask John looked around he noticed a table full of skulls around it. Actually, five skulls were on the table. One with a red candle, another with a blue, another with green, another with yellow, and a last one with violet. The candles lit by themselves as the wise man sat down next to the table.

Answering the question the topic of the love of his life’s faithfulness, John replied, " Of course not. It’s just lately, I feel that I have lost all control I have ever had over the girl and that it is time for me to gain a little of that control back. I am sure that if Becky saw me chatting away with some other female she would raise the dead with her screaming. So, I am asking you, please, will you help find a way for me to have complete control over her?"

"Well, what is it exactly do you want me to do for you?" asked the wise man as he put his fingers together in a pyramid fashion, pointed at John. How wrong of his little man, thought John, he is putting a spell on me by doing that with his fingers.

"I know you think that I am putting a spell upon you, boy. But, I am really just stretching my fingers. If I wanted you to be hurt I would have my friend here get you," said the wise man as he tapped the head of his bear skin rug.

"Oh, no, I had no intention of believing you were putting a spell on me."

The wise man smiled, "Sure, now about your problem. I do not get involved with civil matters. The best thing I can tell you is get it worked out with your girlfriend, or you can get a hooker, I don’t care. Just leave me alone at my house."

No, thought John, not after all the thought I have put into this. There has to be a way to have the love of my life under my grip forever. I must get her under my control. I have to. John thought some more, maybe some of these bottles of different potions must help me out.

John asked, "Isn’t there a potion or something that you can loan me or something?"

"Loan a potion," the wise man answered, "I don’t see how that can be done. But, if you want your love to be with you at all times then I might suggest this." He pulled out a small bottle from another pocket in his over coat. It was in the shape of a rocket and had a mystical looking inscription upon the side, which glared back at John’s glance. Now, thought John, what could that possibly do for me?

The wise man looked back up at John, "Oh, it can do a lot for you boy. In this bottle is what control is made of. It is the absolute essence of greed, lust, power, everything that entails control. I must warn you, you can only use it if you want the up most and absolute control over the girl."
"How do I use it?"

"It is actually really simple. Just spill this over the love of your life when she is looking at you and then you have control over her for the rest of her life."

John was amazed. He took the bottle, cradled it in his hands. "That’s it? Really? That is all I need to do. No chant, no hymn, no anything?"

"That’s it. And since I never crave that kind of control, ever, I will give it to you for free. Just want the promise that you will never come back here, even after you have control over the woman. Never come back here. Understand?" The wise man said this with a skeptic countenance on his face.

"Of course, never again will you ever see me," announced John with glee overflowing from his voice.

"Good, now get out."

And with that John walked out of the shack, went to his car, and sat down. He noticed the wise man in the window shaking his head in John’s direction and then, disappeared. John took one more flash down at the bottle. At last, he thought, I have control!

The rest of the night John found it extremely difficult to produce a look from Becky. It seemed the more that he tried the more she was keen on not looking up at him at all. He had actually had a few opportunities but they were so short that he had not the time of mind to throw the magic potion on her face. For the rest of the night he wondered what exactly would happen to Becky after he threw the potion on her, he hoped the love of his life would not feel too much pain.

But, then, he obtained his chance. While the couple was in their bed, participating in separate activities, Becky looked down at John longfully. John then became uncomfortable, was she going to say something to him, he wondered. But, she remained silent, just looking down at John. At this John became enraged, how dare she look at him like that when he knows full well that she was thinking of some other man. Or so he thought.

However, at that thought he took the amulet from its place next to his bed. He opened the cap and he was amazed that Becky just stared at him as he went through these motions. It was almost as though she knew what was going to happen. Well, she won’t see this coming, he thought. And then the rest seemed to go in slow motion. The liquid spilled from container. It hit Becky straight on her face. She screamed at this. John smiled.

The next events changed the way John looked at the world forever. For even through his hatred toward the love of his life, Becky, he still felt sympathetic toward her after the liquid collided with her face. For at that moment she began to scream, a scream that was heard from their bedroom and into the very soul of all those who would dare listen to the confrontation. The scream cascaded out of her lungs and into the small vile that John had around his fingers. When the scream reached the bottle the room fell into a death silence.

Becky swung and missed every time she attempted to strike John. John had no idea as to what was happening in the room where he slept every night. As the silent Becky flailed more and more, more and more of Becky was trailing into the bottle. At last John was starting to feel the dark control he longed for over Becky, the love of his life was soon under the spell of the wise man’s bottle. The molecules of Becky dissipated into the air, starting at her feel and working the comet’s tail of atoms up. The bottle was becoming full with the very essence that made up Becky. Now the hole in John’s soul was beginning to fill as was the space in the bottle with the love of his life. The glass vile started a screeching kettle whistle and then stopped. Becky was no more. Well, at least she was no more that could be seen on the outside.

John took the bottle in his two hands, blew vapor on its side and polished off with his thumb. Inside the decanter was what looked like a miniature of Becky. She looked well, well at least she looked living. Tears were streaming down her face, making a small pond at the bottom of the vile, the more Becky cried, the more John smiled. It didn’t matter what happened at all. The more Becky every tried do anything, absolutely anything, it was always negated by the will and dark heart of John.

That night John tried to sleep, nothing brought slumber to his eyes. All that he could think about was the absolute control over the love of his life. He just stared at her through the glass all night long, completely amused and excited every time, for it was the excitement, not guilt or pain, that kept John up all that night. In the morning he had breakfast, keeping the bottle in his pocket the whole time. At work John had thought he lost the love of his life but she was only misplaced in one of his sports jackets. It was then that John realized that Becky in a bottle was much more trouble then what she was worth.

In thinking like this John drove up along side the same road that lead to the wise man’s shack and followed a small stream along the way. The stream came to an embankment causing the formation of a small waterfall and dam. Keeping the glass in his hands while he walked along the shore of the creek, he fumbled around with it. Well, Becky, I already thought I lost you and not knowing where you were almost gave me a heart attack, John thought. John held the bottle to his lips kissed its side and said, "You will always be the love of my life no matter where you are."

After saying this he saw Becky attempt to scream. John smiled again, like the night before when she was first imprisoned in the glass vile. His arms fell to he back and the bottle was launched into the waterfall. The satisfaction John felt was unnerving. The bottle fell downstream and hit some rocks and continued on its original course. John wasn’t sure but he thought that maybe he saw it sink under the surface. There would be no more sleepless nights doubting whether Becky loved him. He would not feel uncomfortable at work anymore not knowing where Becky was. Becky would be and forever be in a small bottle at the bottom at wise man’s creek where he was not allowed to go.

John sat back up with almost tears of joy and thought, maybe I should go find that hooker the little man had talked about. And with that, John drove away leaving the love of his life alone and encased, forever.