life and death

Inheritance

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Falling, plummeting, hurtling like a meteor toward Earth. Jennifer waited for her heart-pounding date with gravity to near its inevitable end, then spread her arms like a bird. Unseen wings unfurled, and catching an updraft on the way down, Jennifer rocketed back up, higher and higher, until she was soaring, gliding, sailing across the clouds once more.

So, she thought, this was what it felt like to fly. She used to wonder about that when she was little. Now that she possessed her mother’s magic, she could do so anytime she wished.

Her mother.

A sharp pain lanced through her at the thought, and for a moment she faltered, her invisible wings withering with grief.

An hour ago, Jennifer had gone to visit her mother, who lay in a hospital bed with her eyes closed, tubes and electrodes attached to her arms, face, and chest. The now emaciated woman had beaten cancer once; she hadn’t been so lucky the second time around.

An hour ago, Jennifer hadn’t cared the slightest bit about magic. Indeed, all she’d known of it was the little she’d gleaned from books and fairy tales when she was a girl, and besides, there were more important things to worry about, like the fact that this was probably the last time she would see her mother alive.

When the woman spasmed without warning, Jennifer rushed to her side and held her in her arms, a stunning reversal of roles that might have given her pause were she not so stricken with grief.

“I love you,” she said, knowing this was their final moment together.

Then, without warning, her mother’s eyes opened.

“Child,” the woman said, the whites of her eyes now cobalt black. Terrified, Jennifer pulled back. But her mother’s hand had clamped onto her own like a vice so that she couldn’t move. “Child, it is time you received your inheritance.”

An unseen power filled her, a wild storm of energy and momentum that flowed from her mother into herself. Like a thousand volts of electricity, it raced across her veins, her nerves, surged along the length of her spine, then up into her brain, where it lodged itself and set an irreversible transformation into motion.

“The power of your ancestors belongs to you now,” Jennifer heard her mother say, not with her voice but inside her head. “Use it well, and know that I am always with you.”

When her shock wore thin and Jennifer looked down again, she saw a lifeless body, eyes closed for the last time.

Grief consumed her, but also astonishment and wonder. A special gift had passed from mother to daughter, one Jennifer had known nothing about, and it promised to upend her entire world.

“I love you,” Jennifer said once again. She gazed down from her place among the clouds, then turned and headed for the sun.

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From Life to Death

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CRACK.

Thunder crashed, tearing the sky asunder. A storm of apocalyptic proportions. But Martha didn’t jump as so many of her neighbors did. She’d been expecting it since she was five.

The year she died.

She set her things aside and walked into the pouring rain. The street was nearly empty; most had gone inside when the rain started. There were only a couple folks standing in their front yards, staring up at the sky as if Hell had descended from the clouds, and Martha guessed she could understand. That last crack of thunder had packed quite a whallop.

The sky was a writhing mass of charcoal clouds, pluming like broad stone columns, blotting out the sun. Martha gazed up and tried to spot the form hidden within.

“Come out where I can see you,” she shouted. “Let me look at you.”

She glanced across the street, self conscious in the wake of her outburst, and of course there was Harold Vernor staring back at her. Well, let him think her a senile fool. She had other things to worry about.

A second peal of thunder, like a mortar bursting in the sky, followed by a bright, strobe-like flash. The sound set off at least a dozen car alarms.

Martha stood there waiting.

MARTHA.

“I was wondering when you’d show yourself.”

Martha had been five the year she contracted pneumonia. Everybody expected her to get better, even her doctor, so it came as quite a shock when she took a turn for the worst and teetered on the precipice of death. The storm had come then just as it came now, frightening people with its great pounding cries like artillery fire.

It had approached her on the doorway of death, and in a voice only she could hear, it offered to restore her life. In return, she would let it take her again at a future time of its choosing. The idea terrified her, but if she turned down its offer she was sure to die anyway. So she agreed, and she woke the following morning as if she’d never been sick.

Now, just as before, rain pelted the street in a series of rapid fire plinks, so that Martha was soaked to the skin.

IT’S TIME.

“I figured as much. Can’t say I’ve had a bad life. Had my fair share of scrapes and bruises, but I guess I came out okay in the end.”

Two more explosions. Light electrified the sky.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m ready now.”

YOU ARE BRAVE.

“Not brave, just old enough to know I’ve had enough.”

THEN COME, AND LET ME TAKE YOU HOME.

A column of light like liquid fire, bolting from the sky. It struck her in the head. Martha rode that wild surge into the arms of her savior and destroyer, leaving her smoldering body behind.

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