I pressed my toes into the damp earth and leaned back, letting the sun bathe my pale face. Blue eyes\u2014Crow eyes\u2014can\u2019t handle the bright sun. I closed them and watched the back of my eyelids turn the color of pomegranate. Sunflakes settled all around me, and a river of deep green slid beneath the trees. This is where I come to think.<\/p>\n
Somewhere in the lush canopy above, a mourning dove cried.<\/p>\n
This will ruin your life, Mara. <\/i>I rubbed my stomach, which wouldn\u2019t be flat anymore by winter. I wanted to be the first of five to finish high school. Those plans died in the back seat of Tim\u2019s car. His words echoed in my ears. \u201cTrust me, you won\u2019t get pregnant.\u201d A sob of laughter jumped from my mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cMara,\u201d either Mike or Victor called from the house. They sound so much alike it\u2019s hard to tell anymore.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mike\u2019s approach was almost cautious, his black hair shining like oil in the late afternoon sun. The same black hair we all had, except Donna, the rare blonde Crow\u2014 a result of Mom\u2019s fling with a guy from Sweden. His blue eyes scanned the yard, landing on me. \u201cWe\u2019re grilling. Tim and the rest of the guys are coming by. You hanging out or hiding<\/i> out?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked away, fingers pulling at some helpless blades of grass. \u201cI\u2019m not feeling well. I think I\u2019ll stay inside tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you sick, or just not in the mood for company?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth,\u201d I said, still not making eye contact.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, what should I tell Tim?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho says you have to tell him anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, well, you better get inside before he gets here.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded, watching him walk away and disappear into the house with the crack of the screen door. Rough texture of the bark pressed against my back. My eyes drifted back to the house, to the empty space where the kitchen light would flick on if Mom was home. Motherhood didn\u2019t compare to the adventures her latest boyfriend took her on.<\/p>\n
She\u2019d been my age when my oldest sister, Robin, was born. Her being home wouldn\u2019t change much. I would still be confused while she cried about being too young for grandkids.<\/p>\n
I stared up at the branches, their edges glowing gold, Eventually I\u2019d have to face reality.<\/p>\n
~<\/p>\n
Rowdy voices and laughter filtered up from downstairs, while the faint smell of charcoal and lighter fluid drifted in from the open window. I laid on my bed, staring up at the web of cracks in the ceiling, trying not to hear one voice. Tim\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n
Eventually sleep took me, like falling into a deep, endless pool.<\/p>\n
Diagonal slivers of moonlight filtered through a forest that was quiet, but not empty. This wasn\u2019t the woods behind my house, or any woods I\u2019d seen with waking eyes. Yet I knew where to go. Lavender and damp earth scented the air. Bare feet carried me forward, guided by an invisible thread of instinct.<\/p>\n
The trees yawned into a clearing where a woman stood, bathed in the silver glow of the moon. She didn\u2019t speak, but her regal posture commanded respect.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d I asked, voice trembling.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know who I am, and you know what to do, Mara.\u201d She turned, and looked me over with my own eyes.<\/p>\n
My chest tightened, I tried to speak again, to explain. She raised a hand, as if she\u2019d already heard everything.<\/p>\n
Her face dissolved into mist, the edges of her form rippling in cool air. The clearing folded inward. Shadows lengthened and merged into one another, until nothing but darkness existed, pulling me back. Everything unraveled like dreams do\u2014too fast to stop, but too slow to forget.<\/p>\n
My eyes opened to my empty room, steeped in the deep blue of early morning.<\/p>\n
Shaking off the haze of sleep, I untangled myself from the bed. Careful to be quiet, I pulled on jeans and a purple Gehenna Reapers sweatshirt, then slid my feet into worn leather sandals. I still thought of them as Donna\u2019s sandals, even though she hadn\u2019t lived here for a year. The jeans were Donna\u2019s. My purple sweatshirt was the only thing in my closet that had always been mine.<\/p>\n
Quiet that can only exist right before daylight enveloped the house. Old floorboards beneath my feet seemed softer, as if not wanting to wake the others. I tiptoed past the living room, where Mike and Victor still sprawled, snoring and slack with drunken exhaustion. Geri Harwell, the pale strawberry blonde who couldn\u2019t decide between them, lay curled up next to Mike, head on his chest.<\/p>\n
Empty cans of PBR, some crushed, inundated the kitchen table. A pack of hamburger buns laid open on the counter next to a blue grease-encrusted platter. I groaned, Mike and Victor would take off on their dirt bikes later to raise hell with our cousins down on Laurel and Vine. I would be cleaning this up.<\/p>\n
The door creaked, loud and unapologetic. I froze, breath catching in my throat, waiting for one of my brothers to ask where I was headed. Holding my breath, I closed it as softly as possible.<\/p>\n
Crisp early morning air made my lungs feel too small on the porch. Gravel crunched under my feet, and the rising sun breathed color back into every blade of grass.<\/p>\n
You know what to do, Mara.<\/i><\/p>\n
My thoughts weaved between the dream and where I was about to go. Salome Crow\u2014my grandma\u2014she knew things no one else knew.<\/p>\n
An engine hummed over the distant rustle of leaves. I turned, squinting against the sun. An old green Chevy rolled up, and Mr. Tate leaned out to greet me with a warm, amused expression. His white hair stuck out in all directions, and his smile made me feel like I\u2019d been caught doing something wrong. \u201cMara? Where you going this early, girl?\u201d<\/p>\n
My pulse quickened. Mike and Victor went to his store all the time to buy random stuff for the cars they fixed up. In Gehenna, everyone\u2019s business was everyone\u2019s business, <\/i>and my family didn\u2019t exactly lay low. \u201cMy grandma\u2019s house.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s a long walk. Hop in.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the road ahead, and then back at his wrinkled face, frosty brown eyes without a hint of malice. \u201cThanks.\u201d I said, before climbing up into the truck.<\/p>\n
The scent of old leather and smoke filled the cab. Mr. Tate didn\u2019t ask any more questions, just hummed along with the Oak Ridge Boys\u2019 Elvira on the radio. I stared out the window, catching a glimpse of a doe gnawing at a wild apple tree.<\/p>\n
In town, the truck rattled down narrow streets, past sagging porches and chain link fences, their edges tangled in wild vines. We passed rows of brick apartments, clotheslines crisscrossed between them like bridges between lives. Jeans and sheets danced in the breeze, fading under the summer sun.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks, for the ride. I know it\u2019s probably out of your way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s okay, girl. I had to come out this way to drop off an order.\u201d Mr. Tate spit tobacco juice into a cleat glass bottle. \u201cYour grandma still doing that herbal stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah.\u201d I nodded. \u201cShe\u2019s good at it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I s\u2019pose everybody\u2019s got their thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Once out of downtown, apartment buildings gave way to open lots, rusty mailboxes, and long, narrow driveways.<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened. Did the ball of cells growing there know what was coming?<\/p>\n
The dirt road my grandparents lived on narrowed to little more than a trail, flanked by overarching trees that blotted out the sky. The truck rolled over roots and ruts, and came to a merciful stop in front of the house.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks again,\u201d I said with a smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re welcome. Tell Victor I\u2019ll be getting those parts he ordered on Tuesday.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay Mr. Tate, have a good day.\u201d<\/p>\n
Grandma stood on the porch, as if expecting me. Her long black hair framed a face that had retained so much youth. Her seventy years only showed in her eyes. Wind chimes made of hollow bones and crystals clinked in the breeze, their sound light and haunting. Herbs hung from the eves in bundles, their sharp scenes mixing with the earthy musk of the woods.<\/p>\n
The noise in my head quieted, and the butterflies in my stomach slept when I climbed the porch steps. Charged air laid its phantom hands on my shoulders. Colors deepened, and every sound hushed. Grandma bent over a table, grounding herbs in a pestle. Her wife Delilah sat knitting a deep purple scarf beside her. Delilah\u2019s hands moved with a graceful rhythm that only came with years of practice. Her long red hair ignited against the muted tones of the porch. They spoke to each other without words.<\/p>\n
My grandparents had become part of Gehenna lore\u2014Methuselah Crow and his two wives who were not just in love with him, but in love with each other.<\/p>\n
\u201cMara,\u201d Grandma said, stepping forward to pull me into a hug. Her eyes met mine when we parted, and she gave my upper arms a gentle squeeze. \u201cI know why you\u2019re here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wind rattled the bones and crystals around us.<\/p>\n
~To be continued~<\/p>\n
Thanks for reading! Follow me on twitter at: https:\/\/x.com\/Valkrane<\/a><\/p>\n Like my author page on Facebook: https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/profile.php?id=61569818831489<\/a><\/p>\n