Nothing to worry about

Margarete, was your typical cursed by name, caffeine addicted future unready bookworm aiming a major in accounting. With only 4'9 and not exactly the best skin condition, she wasn't exactly blessed by nature. Being bullied almost all her life her, recently married-in stepfather couldn't fix that issue, but provide her with a much more comfortable lifestyle. Being blessed by not have to work part-time to finance school, she wouldn't have a problem finding a pleasing man or so she thought? Being ditched multiple times previously because of her rather sloppy atire, she developed an obsession for seduction methods and witchcraft. Being blessed by her stepfathers cash she could live the girldream of having an absurdly large selection of different footwear. Heels, Boots, Balletshoes you name it. However instead of being all happy and girly about this fact, she was rather selective and profiled her "prey" by location, character and background. Later she would chose an adequate outfit, to please her dates and later brutally ditch them. This was happening all outside of the campus since she didn't want to attract unnecessary attention by her fellow students.

Her few remaining friends tried to get her back to reality, without any success. She felt great in what she's doing. After college instead of learning she would browse the web for any intriguing spells and rituals that usually don't work. It was the fascination that drove her, some would even call her crazy by that point, until one day she found one ritual that did even make her doubt it's validity. "Thou shall send a grey pouch filled with some flowers ash and thou shall make your wildest fantasy come true", the basic HTML Website read. It looked like it was so quickly done almost someone wanted to prank 12 year olds with that. "This couldn't possibly work", Margarete thought out loud. The adress listed some place in Norway. She couldn't stop herself from trying, snatching mothers freshly bought flowers and throwing them into the fireplace. Later she collected the ashes. Rubbed the pouch with it for good measure and send it away.

On the next Day,

the Letter has already returned.