Marredbury Episode 9

How far would you go to save your child? A short story

Marredbury is a serial anthology, a combination of a larger narrative and a short story collection. If you missed an episodes of Marredbury, check out the table of contents. Marredbury is in a draft stage now and my readers get to enjoy this first look.

Thank you all for your patience again! Between moving and life, this story has been a hurdle! It’s still not done, but I need to set it aside for a while. I think the character Luis needs a bit more development, as well as some more world building, but I don’t want to give anything away! There is often a point when I’m working on a story that I need to step away from it. I’ve poked and prodded as much as I could and what I really need is time away so I can revisit with fresh eyes. So while I take a step away from “Icarus”, enjoy! If you have any thoughts on further revisions, please feel free to share.

Episode 9

Icarus

Photo by Isaac Maffeis on Unsplash

Jane Owens developed the Icarus technology from an old 90’s toy. The original Icarus had been a frisbee-like dome kids wore on their backs. Commercials with a shouting spokesperson and grinning children demonstrated how the wearer ran through open fields and lifted off the ground, all for four payments of $19.99 if they called now.

The toy didn’t work.

Best case scenario kids spent the afternoon running around with large plastic frisbees on their backs.

Worst case scenario, Billy Sutton broke his neck jumping off his roof in an attempt to fly to the neighbor’s yard.

The company behind the toy went bankrupt after the lawsuits and Icarus was removed from store shelves.

No one knew how Jane did it, how her redesign lifted Icarus off the ground.

“It’s actually a funny story.” It actually wasn’t a funny story. Not a true story either, but Jane found that if she started with that phrase, others laughed with her.

She sat in an oversized chair in front of several large cameras, catching her at different angles. Across from her Fiona Pham smiled wide, her pristine skirt stretched over her crossed legs, arms resting in her lap, and manicured fingers wrapped around note cards. Enthusiasm exuded from the talk show host, even fresher in person compared to the mornings Jane had watched from Amina’s hospital room.

Fiona’s eyes glimmered with curiosity.

“I was taking my kids out for a hike last summer. My youngest’s cancer had been in remission for six months and she was starting to get her strength back.”

“Congratulations on your youngest being cancer free.”

Jane smiled. It was a miracle. Jane’s doing, but still a miracle.

“Thank you,” she continued. “We stopped at some picnic benches. I was getting our lunch ready and the kids started climbing a tree. I was an anxious mess then, so worried about my youngest and worried that I was neglecting my other daughter.”

Fiona leaned over and patted Jane’s hand. Her eyebrows turned down with sympathy.

“So when they began jumping out of the tree, I had to stop myself from freaking out.” Jane had found this happening often that summer, like her temper simmered at all time, the fire stoked by the constant worries running through her head. “It’s hard to explain, but watching them, the way they flew from those branches. Something just clicked.”

She shrugged and chuckled, a rehearsed conclusion to the story. No one would believe the true story of how she made Icarus fly anyway. People preferred the story of a mother turned entrepreneur.

The audience laughed along with her. A glowing sign above Fiona and Jane’s head prompted the response. The sign darkened, the audience quieted.

“How did you come to create Icarus, then?” Fiona continued the interview.

Jane tugged the bottom of her blouse to ensure it hadn’t risen up to expose her midriff. “Well, I had a small online shop selling handcrafted children’s toys. It started as a one man job, really. I’ve always been good with my hands, crafting wooden toys, sewing softer products.”

“Wood work and sewing. So you have always been talented?”

Jane chuckled. Her cheeks warmed. “I guess. It kept me busy, brought in enough money to pay for groceries, you know.”

Fiona leaned closer to Jane, her hushed tone conspiratorial. “So, what’s your secret? How does Icarus fly?”

Jane smirked. She eyed the audience, like she pondered whether to tell her secret. Then, she leaned away from Fiona and shook her head. Groans filled the studio and Fiona mimed disappointment.

The interview ended soon after. Fiona transitioned to a commercial break, letting her viewers know about the savant five-year-old opera singer on next. She thanked Jane for her time and the red lights over the cameras shut off.

“Ads!” someone on set shouted.

A man appeared at Jane’s side and started removing the microphone strapped beneath the waist of her blouse. Fiona turned from her and accepted a to-go coffee from a young woman.

“Great segment.” She said between sips. “Couldn’t talk you into sharing your secret?”

“No, ma’am.” With the microphone grip released, Jane felt free to move again. She stood and scanned the studio for the way back to the green room. The audience hummed with side conversations. A long table sat to the side of them filled with pastries, fruit, and other snacks. Jane’s stomach growled, but she didn’t have time to eat.

Fiona dismissed her with one last smile. “Good luck.”

The air was heavy and hot when Jane stepped out of the cool studio warehouse. Jane slipped off her sweater and checked her phone on her walk back to her car. It was almost four and she had a missed call from her agent. He would be wanting to discuss the last leg of her tour, but that could wait until dinner. She silenced her phone, climbed into her car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

The tracks of her tires seared the road with each repeated trip to the edge of town. The surrounding hills towered over her as Jane parked near the trail. She walked the dirt path, avoiding familiar divots and protruding tree roots.

The hike hadn’t been a lie. She had discovered the secret to Icarus with her children. It was a Saturday, late in the morning. Jane had fought with Amina to take her medicine. Amina hated her medicine. It tasted awful and often left her nauseous. Luis, Jane’s husband, had suggested the hike as a distraction. Something easy. They had a couple hours until lunch, enough time to explore the trails. Then, Luis had been called into work, leaving Jane to complete the commitment that he had suggested and Saira in a sour mood. Their eldest often preferred her father over Jane.

The girls had climbed trees, though in the true version, Jane quickly asked them to get down. She couldn’t handle anything else that afternoon. Amina’s medical bills had been piling up, their savings diminished. They couldn’t afford a visit to the ER.

Saira had been mad at her. Her oldest was often upset with Jane, whose time had been entirely devoted to Amina’s care since her diagnosis. She couldn’t blame Saira. The loneliness, the resentment.

When Saira asked to go down the smaller overgrown trail, Jane couldn’t say no.

Saira smiled. She took Amina’s hand and forged through the tangled bush branches.

“My friend says there’s a secret waterfall through here. And magic.” Saira chattered to Amina while Jane followed close behind.

“Magic?” Amina looked back at her mother with wide excitement in her eyes.

They heard the water before they saw it. Then crossed a small creek with one large step, and followed the curve of the neglected footpath.

“See!” Saira released her grip on Amina and raced ahead.

The waterfall was more of a water trickle so late in summer. The boulders piled high, damp and mossy. The trickle pooled below and flooded through the dirt and twigs.

Amina squealed and followed her sister.

“Be careful on the slippery rocks!” Jane called after them, hating her nagging just like her children. Not for the first time, she noted that she watched only Amina as she hopped across each wet stone. She stared at her feet, ensuring that she avoided the moss covered rocks, that she didn’t twist her ankle or slip and hit her head. The thin hair that had grown over the last six months bobbed with each pounce.

“Amina, look!” Saira shouted.

Jane forced her gaze away from your youngest. Saira leaned against the water trickled boulders, her hand resting on the slow flow. She waved her sister to her, and then crouched and peered into a dark crevice. Amina stepped through the water to get to her. Jane cringed at the thought of her wet socks and shoes on the hike back.

“What is it?” Amina’s tinny voice echoed when she spoke into the crevice.

“That’s the witch,” Saira said.

Her words yanked Jane’s attention away from the wet stones. She studied the alcove from the space between her daughters’ heads. The mid-morning light illuminated the space just enough for Jane to make out the figure scratched into the stone, arms and legs spread wide with a head stretching up and around the top edge of the alcove.

“Witch?” Jane called from the spot she’d been abandoned on the trail.

“That’s what Kara told me. She grants wishes.” Saira smirked, her eyes daring Amina to challenge her.

“Cool!” Amina pressed her palms on the boulders and shoved her head in the crevice.

“Careful!” The word came out of Jane without a thought. Amina ignored her. Jane would ignore her too after hearing that word too often.

“How do you get her to grant your wish?” Amina removed her head and peered up at her sister.

“It’s a trade. You give her something valuable and she grants a wish of the same value.”

The girls patted their bodies, searching for something to give the witch. All three of them only wore t-shirts, shorts, and hiking shoes. Nothing to sacrifice, so they began searching the damp earth.

“What about this!” Amina leapt from her crouch and held a shining white rock above her head.

Saira shrugged. “We could try.”

They returned to the crevice. Amina placed the rock before the shadowed stick figure.

“What should we wish for?” Saira asked.

“Ice cream for dinner!”

Jane smirked. She had to admit that she didn’t hate the idea.

“That’s stupid.” Saira waved the wish away with her hand.

Amina pouted. “You come up with something then.”

Jane’s eldest looked to the sky, like she often did when she was thinking. A look to the ceiling during a challenging math assignment or when asked if she had done her chores like they’d agree she would do before going to a friend’s house. After a few moments, Saira shrugged.

“Ice cream for dinner, then,” she said.

“Yay!” Amina raised both her arms in celebration.

The girls stared at their offering. Jane didn’t know what they expected to happen, but she didn’t want to bother their play. When was the last time they had an easy morning like this? Jane began to consider actually getting the girls ice cream for dinner.

“Did it work?” Amina asked.

“I don’t know. Kara didn’t tell me what would happen after we made our wish.”

Jane’s phone buzzed. She fished it out of her pocket and read the message from Luis. He would be busy all day, one too many colleagues had called out and he had to cover.

The new bill is on the counter. I haven’t seen it yet. The message continued.

Jane’s stomach twisted. Of course Luis hadn’t opened it. Jane would prefer it be tossed in the garbage, not that that would make the debt go away. Another bill from the hospital, no doubt for Amina’s last stay in the hospital, over a week this time.

Are you getting overtime today? Jane responded.

Yes. Luis followed the message with an emoji of two hands pressed together in prayer.

Jane slipped her phone back in her pocket. Her children still waited for the witch to grant their wish.

“Bad news, girls,” Jane called for them. “Dad is working all day.”

Saira’s shoulders fell heavy. She leaned on the damp boulders and crossed her arms.

“Aw man,” Amina whined.

“Come on.” Jane gestured for them to return to her. “I think ice cream for dinner sounds perfect. Let’s go to the store to pick it out.”

That got the girls moving and put smiles back on their face. Jane patted Amina’s fluffy head as she passed her on the trail. Saira followed close behind, less angst in her steps, though her arms remained crossed. Jane smiled. The day wasn’t lost. She looked forward to making a memory with her girls, proud to be the fun parent for the day.

She followed her children back down the trail. Before turning away from the waterfall, Jane glanced back at the alcove. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. The crevice was empty, no shiny white rock in sight.

Just two weeks after her ice cream dinner, Amina had been re-admitted to the hospital. Jane made another trip to the waterfall then, to clear her head, to make a wish, she didn’t know why, only drove. Her arms guided the car to the state park lot. Her legs guided her down the overgrown trail. Luis stayed with Amina, her youngest laying sick in bed, needles poked into her arms, tubes rested in her nose, and all Jane could think about were the charges. Each prescription, each minute they spent with nurses and doctors at their side. How could she be so shallow? What was money if the care saved her daughter’s life?

Jane needed to pull herself together. She wouldn’t cry in front of her daughters, couldn’t bring more pain to their family, especially Amina’s.

With only the slim soles of her sandals for the hike, Jane stomped down the path, steps sure and fast. Sharp rocks jabbed through her shoes. Tears blurred her vision and she stumbled over divots. Breathless, she stopped before the waterfall. It appeared the same as their last visit. The same damp boulders. The same dark crevice beside the trickling waterfall.

Jane stepped onto the wet stones. Saira’s face flashed through her mind, the look of childhood wonder in her smirk as she told Amina about the witch. Jane yearned for those simpler times, the time of cheesy infomercials and cheaply made toys. A time where she feared the monster living under her bed and searched for fairies in the backyard. A time where anything was possible.

As she approached the dark alcove, she lifted one foot higher and removed her sandal. They were Jane’s most fashionable pair, cost her more than they could afford, but Luis had insisted on them as a birthday present. She had left the hospital in a rush, hadn’t even taken the time to grab her purse. It was all she had of value on her.

She shoved the shoe into crevice.

“I just want to stop worrying about the money.” She pressed a palm on the space above the alcove and balanced on her one sandaled foot.

A breeze rustled the branches overhead, making the stiff oak leaves beat against one another. Jane dropped her head and caught her breath. The hike had helped. Tears no longer invaded her vision, her panic no longer suffocated her.

It will all work out. Jane and her family had already been to hell and back through Amina’s treatments. It has to all work out.

She stepped carefully with her one barefoot on her way back to the car. Three other cars parked in the lot with hers. The hot sun had begun its descent into evening. Jane looked down at her feet, both covered in dirt and debris. The remaining sandal had been discolored by the dusty trail, a layer of mud caked on the bottom. She slipped the shoe off her foot. The old shoe, Jane couldn’t even recall when she’d purchased the pair, might have been a gift. It didn’t matter. She dropped the sandal into the trash bin beside her and returned to her car.

No one stopped her at the hospital. She strolled through the lobby, leaned against the handrail in the elevator as it carried her up five floors, and then took the familiar walk down the pediatrics hall to Amina’s room.

Her youngest slept in the bed. Jane glanced quickly away from the needles and tubes attached to her. Luis sat with his back to her. He hunched over his phone and scrolled through short videos on social media. As Jane approached, he paused on a compilation of old commercials advertising decade old products. Wheels in the heels of shoes. An egg cracking device. Hair accessories.

Luis heard her and turned around.

“Are you okay?” He kept his voice quiet with Amina sleeping just inches away.

“I’m fine.” Jane watched the video. She couldn’t look away, but didn’t understand why.

“Where’d you go? Where are your shoes?”

She didn’t respond, couldn’t follow his questions. An ad for a toy flashed on his screen. Jane held a hand out for the phone.

“Let me see that.”

He handed it over, mouth slack, brows furrowed.

Jane turned the volume up a couple notches and moved closer to the open doorway. Kids glided through the air, a large saucer on their backs. They laughed and high-fived as they passed each other in flight. It was the moment Jane’s life changed, the moment she saw Icarus

Jane had never been a hiker. The day she had given her first gift to the witch, she only understood her urge to run, to get away from it all. It could have been the cool shade of the trees or the exercise the hike could have provided.

The witch found her lost. She called for her, like the cries of children. How could Jane not respond?

Now, she visited the waterfall once a week. The hour after the interview was all the time Jane had that week to make her sacrifice. Breathless from her rush down the trail, she knelt before the figure and dug through her front pocket. At first, she couldn’t find what she searched for. She panicked and looked over her shoulder, a useless attempt to scour the dirt and water. It must have slipped from her pocket when she pulled her phone out. So careless. So close to victory and she ruined her family’s chances of happiness.

Her still searching fingers glanced across a smooth surface amongst the thin fabric. She sighed with relief and pinched the thin chain. A gift from her mother when she wasn’t much older than Amina. The chain no longer fit around her wrist, but the gold links still shined in the speckled afternoon sun.

Jane laid an arm across the damp stone to reach into the alcove and placed the bracelet inside.

She had worn that bracelet on her first day of school. The chain broke during afternoon recess. With an empty wrist, Jane recalled the panicked search as if it happened just yesterday. Her mother would be upset. The bracelet was so valuable. She scoured the black top. Tears welled in her eyes. As her vision blurred, her hope diminished.

That’s when she met—

Jane stood up. The knees of her slacks hung heavy with water. Drops ran down her shins.

She met—

The small bracelet shined in the alcove. Jane shielded her eyes from the glare. The shine slipped into the cracks of the rock. It illuminated the surrounding stones. The figure in the alcove slurped the glow up. The shine soaked into the stone, growing increasingly dimmer until the crevice once more was blanketed in blackness.

Jane started back across the water. She had to get home for dinner. The day on the playground had left her mind, never to return. The deed was done.

It was after five by the time Jane arrived home. She calculated in her head. Two and a half hours until Amina’s bedtime. Three until Saira followed. Dinner would take thirty minutes, forty-five if Luis made something the kids didn’t like. Baths would take another thirty. Then there were the dishes to wash, the laundry to fold. After the girls went to bed, she and Luis had to sit down and talk about Amina’s latest lab results.

Five hours until she could go to bed. The count down began.

Jane dropped her keys on the hook by the door and kicked her shoes off into a basket at her feet.

There had been a time she saw those few short hours with her children as too little. So many hours at day care and so little with her. That had changed at some point. Had it been with Amina’s diagnosis? The first round of treatments? The first remission? The first recurrence? Did it even matter?

She clicked the email icon on her phone and scrolled through the dozens of unread emails she’d received that day. Nothing about the interview with Fiona. She clicked away and put her phone back in her pocket as she joined her family in the dining room.

“We started without you.” Luis looked at her guiltily. Saira and Amina sat on either side of him with a plate of spaghetti each.

“That’s okay.” Jane dropped her purse on the counter behind them and took her seat at the table. “I was late. I should’ve called.”

“We saw you on TV today,” Saira announced.

“You did?” Jane smiled.

“You looked pretty.” Her youngest smirked and slurped a noodle.

Jane tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear and reached across the table to serve herself pasta. “Thank you, baby.”

She caught sight of the chain around Amina’s neck as she chewed her first bite. Luis scooped the last of his pasta as Jane swallowed.

“What’s that?” she asked.

The chain reminded her of something, but she couldn’t place it.

“I found it in your jewelry box when I was putting back those earrings,” Saira replied. “She saw it and loved it. Dad said she could wear it today.”

“Yeah.” Jane nodded, but frowned. That wasn’t what bothered her. She knew the necklace had been with her other jewelry, but she was forgetting something else. That had been happening often lately. Luis blamed the added stress of the Icarus launch.

“How was it?” Luis interrupted her thinking.

“What?” Jane asked.

“The interview. Fiona Pham.” Luis smirked. “How was it?”

“Oh.” The filming seemed like ages ago. “It was good. I haven’t heard anything about Icarus yet, though.”

Luis stood and picked up his empty plate. “I thought you did great. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Keep that design a secret. It increases demand.”

“It’s cool,” Saira added. “My friends all talk about the secret design. They say it’s aliens or magic.”

Something like that. Jane’s phone vibrated. It was her agent. She showed Luis the screen.

“I’m going to take this in the bedroom.” She excused herself from the table. As she climbed the stairs, she heard the water running in the kitchen. Luis began cleaning the dishes.

“Joel.” She closed her bedroom door and opened the curtains to let the evening light in.

“Janey!” No one had called her Janey since elementary school, but it was Joel’s favorite pet name for her. “How are you my darling?”

“Good.” Jane positioned the phone between her ear and shoulder and began folding the laundry piled on her bed.

“You have a good time with interview?”

“I think it went well.”

“Have you checked your email? Marketing sent the holiday ad. I wanted to know your thoughts.”

Jane dropped Luis’s t-shirt back in the unfolded pile and clicked through her phone. She ignored the grease her cheek had left on the screen and tapped to her email. At the top of the unread was the ad copy, sent just minutes before Joel’s call.

She clicked the video link and turned up the volume on her phone. Flashing lights and text filled the screen. Soar! Whiz! Zip! The words disappeared and laughing children ran down a grassy hill. Icarus was strapped to their backs, no longer the frisbee dome of the 90s, but sleek wings. They attached around the children’s chest and their arms, so when they stretched the wings expanded. The ad showed three different styles, though marketing had come up with half a dozen more. One was decorated with warm natural colors, resembling the wings of a hawk. Another was a vibrant red, striped like a race car. The last one was pink and purple, like the wings of a fairy princess, the ends iridescent in the sun. The children began their descent down the hill. They spread their arms and Icarus lifted them off the ground. They rose higher, laughing and urging each other to keep up until they flew beyond the top edge of the screen. At the bottom a disclaimer stated: Dramatization

The real Icarus lifted children about three feet in the air, four if the child was on the smaller side. Jane could have designed them to fly higher, but there wouldn’t be another kid dying from jumping off their roof, at least nothing encouraged by Jane and the manufacturer. Packaging made it clear that the toy was unsuitable for children under the age of eight. The instructions tucked inside are filled with more disclaimers to protect the company against any lawsuits.

The ad worked. Jane said as much to Joel. The toys would sell themselves, the witch would ensure that. The ad was almost redundant. She said good bye to Joel, sat down on the bed, and rewatched the ad.

“What was that?” Luis joined her in the bedroom. He opened the top drawer and retrieved a pair of socks.

“What was what?” Jane closed her email. The phone needed charging.

“The song. It sounded like the one Saira danced to at her recital last year.”

Jane plugged her phone in and set it on her bedside table. “What recital?”

“The one where she danced to that song. She wore that hair thing, the one that matched your eyes.” Luis began pushing aside the clutter on top of the dresser. He looked behind a frame with a holiday picture of their family, a couple years old now, opened a small wooden jewelry box. “It was here. It’s been here since she gave it to you.”

Jane shrugged. “Maybe she took it back.”

“I swear I saw it here last week.” Luis frowned, then shook his head. “The girls are asking for you for bath time.”

“Tell them I’ll be there in a couple minutes.” Jane found a simple elastic band on the dresser and gathered her hair up. “I’m going to get changed first.”

Jane shoved her jewelry to the side. The box’s lid shadowed the bright bathroom light above her and Jane struggled to see the pieces clearly.

“Come on. Come on!” She glanced at the clock, already ten minutes late, and then directed her attention back to the pile of silver, gold, and beads. “Saira!”

She dumped the contents on the bathroom counter. It wasn’t there. Another offering was due and the necklace was gone.

“Yeah.” Saira leaned on the door jam. She craned her neck to get a better look at Jane huddled over the counter while keeping her feet firmly outside of the bathroom.

“Did you borrow my honeycomb pendant? The one I got at the fundraiser last year.”

Saira frowned. “The one with the bee on it?”

Jane pressed her palms on the cool surface and exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

“Amina’s wearing it.”

Jane pressed her fingers to her forehead. The pressure behind her eyes had begun to feel like a migraine.

“Can you get it for me, please?” she asked her oldest.

Saira shook her head. “You want it, you get it. Amina is crazy. You haven’t seen her lately, Mom. She doesn’t hear the word no.”

She and Luis were guilty of spoiling their youngest. All the needles, the long days in hospital beds. It didn’t hurt to give into her wants when they could. What was a sweet when they worried she wouldn’t be able to keep her food down, or a toy when she was too weak to run around with other kids at the park? Of course Amina took the necklace as her own.

Fifteen minutes late. Even if there was no traffic, Jane would need a miracle to make it to her meeting on time. It was her other weekly appointment she worried about, though.

Saira left Jane alone in the bathroom. She now rushed into the attached master bedroom and yanked the closet door open. The sacrifice needed to be something of value. Jane snatched an old shoebox from the top shelf. She dropped it at the foot of her bed, took a seat, and then dug through the box of old photos and keepsakes. Birthday cards, a brittle dried rose, ticket stubs. A tale of her courtship with her husband. She picked up the rose, holding it carefully between her index finger and thumb. A little push and the petals would crumble onto her bed spread. She was lucky it had lasted this long without disintegrating into dust.

“Perfect.” She smiled.

Jane sacrificed a dried flower the following week. She found time to visit the witch after a marketing meeting. The night Luis had given her the bouquet slipped from her mind, but she hardly missed. Her phone rang just as the remaining glow of flower dust sputtered out.

The digits across the screen sat heavy in her gut.

“Dr. Graves,” she greeted the other end of the line.

She and Luis needed to pay the doctor a visit. Amina’s results hadn’t been what they hoped.

The next morning, Jane received more news. Icarus had gotten its first international order. One hundred thousand to be sold in the toy section of Harrods. But Jane didn’t care.

All the bills would be paid for. It’s why she worked so hard, why she sacrificed.

She’d done it. Her daughter would get the care that she needed.

But it could all have come too late.

Jane spent two weeks at Amina’s bedside. One afternoon, like every afternoon before, Luis left to pick up Saira from school and drop her off at dance class. Her mom would pick her up and take her home.

Jane laid half her body on the stiff sterile smelling hospital bed and stroked the top of Amina’s hand, the one not punctured and hooked up to an IV. Her youngest slept more hours than she didn’t. The drugs running through her small body seemed to suck more life out of her than the god awful fate that brought them there. Jane studied her thin arms, the sprinkle of freckles on the tops of her hands. Her cheeks had lost the pink hue she had just gotten back. Her chin jutted out, narrow and sharp. On her collar bone rested a thin gold necklace.

The honeycomb charm with a bee sitting on top could use a polish. Jane should have done that the morning she’d been pawing through her closet. She’d been so worried about getting enough money. Did Amina miss her while she clawed her way to the top of the toy industry? Is that why she wanted to wear Jane’s jewelry?

She slipped a finger around the back of Amina’s neck, searching for the clasp. Once she found it, she worked the edge of her nail over the protruding metal, unhooked the chain, and slipped it from her daughter’s neck.

Jane unraveled herself from her sleeping child and climbed off the bed. Amina was asleep. Luis would be there by the time she woke up. Jane needed to make the next sacrifice. She hadn’t left Amina’s side, hadn’t made her offering. That’s why Amina’s health failed. Jane couldn’t lose her. Not when they had come this far. She wouldn’t give up now. It was the time to push through, to make it back to remission, to watch Amina grow into a teenager, to walk across the stage at her graduation. Luis will walk her down the aisle. Jane will support her as she started her own family.

She studied her frail daughter. This wasn’t good bye. Jane wouldn’t let that happen.

With the honeycomb pendant pressed into the palm of her closed fist, Jane gathered her keys and left.

Outside, the air was the crisp cool of approaching winter. The blue tint of twilight consumed the sky, mingling with the glow of street lights. Jane drove past the park sign informing her that the trails closed at sun set and parked in the nearly empty lot. She snatched the necklace from the cup holder and started down the familiar track.

She wore the same clothes for three days, a t-shirt and sweats. In the fresh air, Jane caught whiffs of her stale body odor. Her feet scratched in her tennis shoes. She hadn’t bothered to put on socks. She hadn’t even bothered to ask the nurse to bring her a pair or Luis to stop by the house. She hadn’t noticed until she walked the dirt trail. The heel of her shoe rubbed on her skin. It would soon become a blister, but Jane pressed forward.

She pranced over the damp stones. Frequent visits developed confidence in her steps and urgency hurried her forward. Just as she had every week for the last two years they’d been battling for Amina’s life, Jane knelt before the alcove. In the late hour, the space between the rocks was black. She didn’t need to see the thin figure to know it was there.

Jane gifted the necklace. Whatever the figure was, a god, a demon, an ancient spirit, she didn’t care. It could have the necklace. It could have all of her shoes, her car, Icarus. None of it mattered. It was all worthless. Jane would give her own flesh if it meant keeping Amina safe.

“I need her to live.” Jane’s voice cracked with a threat of tears.

She waited. Water dripped down the stone. The trickle of the small creek mocked Jane as she watched for her offering to be accepted, but the glow never came.

She snatched the necklace. The cool metal gathered in her palm, solid, and then she placed it back before the idol.

Nothing.

A crisp breeze pushed on Jane’s back. It wound its grip around her limbs, slithered in the space between her body and her clothes. Jane shivered. Her arms grew rigid. She raised them and flinched at the sharp pain.

Her hand ached. When Jane looked at her right hand, she saw a black pinkie tip. She gasped and fell back into the shallow water. It had just been a trick of her eyes. The sun had set below the surrounding hills, leaving the trail in growing darkness.

The necklace remained before the figure.

Worthless. A hushed whisper in her ear.

“No,” Jane murmured. Not worthless. Had it read her thoughts?

She’d given the idol gold. Amina loved the necklace. Jane liked it enough to bid on it at a fundraiser. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry. “That’s not what I meant,” she said.

Worthless. A chill grazed her cheek.

Jane cried out. She raised her right hand and screamed.

The flesh of her pinkie blackened and shriveled. Jane shrieked. The skin slushed off, revealing a long thin bone. Moments later, the bone melted and slipped down the side of her hand. Skin, blood, and bone slid down her elbow and disappeared into the murky creek. The stones beneath the water glowed. The sludge that used to be Jane’s pinkie glimmered in the twilight. The idol accepted its offering.

Jane staggered backward, slipping on the slick surface of the rocks in her desperate attempt to get away. She held her right hand before her face, sans pinkie. The dark alcove was lit with her offering, but the necklace still remained. The figure had taken a piece of Jane instead.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Jane retrieved it with her good hand, her gaze still fixed on the idol. It finished consuming the offering and the glow diminished. The buzzing stopped and the phone sent the call to voicemail. After a moment, a call came in again.

Jane sat up. Her backside was wet from her crawl through the water. The space that once held her pinkie burned and ached, the joint connecting the pinkie to her hand now an open wound. She shivered and lifted the phone. Luis’s name and number shined on the screen.

“Where are you?” He didn’t bother with a greeting. “Amina was alone when I got here. She was crying, had no idea where you went.”

Jane opened her mouth to answer, but only a croak past her lips.

What could she say? How could she explain where she had gone and what had happened? She glanced at her four fingered hand again and a wave of nausea made her grateful she was already seated.

“The doctor wants to discuss her latest tests. I told them we’ll wait for you to get back,” he continued. “Jane?”

“I’ll be right there.” She managed a response and hung up.

She didn’t recall the walk back to her car. She sat in the driver seat, cradling her right hand. The blood stained her shirt and smeared down her hand and arm. Before starting the car, she leaned over to reach the glove compartment and retrieved some napkins. She pressed thin take out napkins against the open wound and shoved her hand into her sweatpant pocket.

People must have stared at her as she rushed through the hospital lobby and into the elevator. The daily identification tag stuck to her shirt, though discolored by blood, and told security that she belonged despite her disheveled appearance. Either she ignored their questions or they let her pass without question. Jane hadn’t noticed.

“What happened to you?” Her husband rushed to her side when she entered Amina’s room.

Jane brushed past him. All she saw was Amina. Her daughter sat up in her bed. The braids Jane had twisted into her hair hung limp from sleep. Jane settled at her side, the bleeding still stopped by napkins and the hand still shoved in her pocket.

“What did the doctor say?” Jane brushed hair off of Amina’s forehead with her five fingered hand.

“Nothing,” her husband responded. “She said she’d come back when you got here. Jane–”

“Are you hurt, Mommy?” Amina frowned at the blood on Jane’s shirt and arm.

“No, baby.” Jane kissed Amina’s forehead. She no longer felt any pain, no longer cared about her missing finger. She’d forgotten in her panic what she was sacrificing for. If the idol wanted some of her own flesh to save Amina, than it could have it. She turned to her husband. “I should take a shower. It’s been a while.”

He stared back at her, mouth slack.

Jane didn’t wait for a response. She found her way into the room’s bathroom, shut the door, and began undressing. She turned on the water, twisted the knob until the heat steamed the tiled room. In the shower, she watched the water slide down her body, pink as it disappeared in the drain.

She was delicate with her four fingered hand, splashing the hot water on it instead of putting it directly under the stream. A stab of pain jolted through her right hand. Jane gasped. It was like something jabbed her pinkie, but there was nothing there.

She studied her hand. Another stab, and she cried out.

“Are you okay?” her husband called from the other side of the door.

Jane leaned against the tiled wall. The pain weakened her knees. It traveled up her arm, into her shoulder, and reverberated in her back. She slipped down the wall as her vision blackened and she lost consciousness.

Cool smooth tiles pressed across Jane’s back and the bottom of her legs. She blinked water from her eyes. Her hand with the missing finger lay directly in the stream, a thin trickle of pink rolling into the drain. The bleeding had slowed. She lifted her hand and flinched at the hot pain that traveled up her arm.

A knock at the door.

“Jane.” Luis’s voice sounded from the other side. “Jane!”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was harsh but soft. She cleared her throat. “I’m almost done.”

She pressed herself to her feet with her good hand. Luis didn’t call for her again. Her body trembled as she finished washing herself, careful with her four-fingered hand. Finished, she shut the water off and patted herself dry with the rough towel. It smelled stale and antiseptic and a wave of nausea threatened to bring Jane to her knees again. Hanging on the back of the door was a robe, too large for Amina, but hospital provided. Jane wrapped the robe around her body. She then scooped her damp bloody clothes into the plastic lined trash bin and tied the bag shut. Her hair dripped down her back and the wet robe clung to her skin. With one last deep breath, she opened the door and re-entered the hospital room.

A man stood at the side of the bed. He whipped his gaze around as Jane stepped into the room. He was tall with a soft stomach and a nice watch around his wrist. His black hair had begun to gray across his temples. Dark circles under his eyes aged him.

For a moment, Jane’s breath caught in her throat. His frenzied eyes. So much sorrow and fear. This strange man at her daughter’s bedside. So desperate. What did he want? She would scream for help. She had to save her daughter.

Luis. Jane loosened the grip she had on the fabric of the robe. The space where her pinkie used to be ached. She shoved that hand into a pocket. She hadn’t recognized Luis for a moment. She shook her head. Must be the blood loss. And the panic. She had to hold herself together. Amina needed her mama.

Luis raised an eyebrow as Jane approached the bed. His unspoken questions settled between them. She shook her head and took a seat in the chair beside her daughter.

Amina slept. Her skin clung to the bones of her face. Jane found thin wrist and held it with her good hand. The other hand remained tucked in her robe.

“Can you get me some fresh clothes from home?” She asked Luis without looking away from Amina.

He didn’t move. Jane felt his gaze on her. She watched him from the corner of her eye, waiting for a demand for answers, a refusal to help her, a scolding for leaving Amina. The machines hooked up to their daughter beeped, the striking tone the only sound in the room. The prickle of tears struck the backs of Jane’s eyes. She squeezed Amina’s wrist tighter. If she told Luis about her sacrifice, he would stop her from visiting the witch, he would kill their daughter.

She glanced up at him. The tears had filled her eyes and she blinked to keep them at bay. “Please.”

He exhaled. His shoulders dropped and he shoved his hand in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. She could see the fist he formed around his car keys through the fabric. Without a word, he turned and left the room.

Jane looked back to Amina. Her brittle hair sat like a halo around her head. Jane laid her head beside her. Amina’s slow breathing brushed against Jane’s forehead. She closed her eyes and timed her own breath in time with her daughters. The ache in her finger no longer bothered her. It had all be worth it to listen to the sound of Amina breathing.

Jane awoke in her car. Not awoke, really, but came to awareness. She had to have been awake. Her hands wrapped around the steering wheel. She wore fresh clothes and her damp hair was knotted on top of her head.

She was in the parking lot for the trails. The sky warmed with sun set.

Jane didn’t know about the time that had passed, but the pull of the idol made all questions flee from her mind. She stepped out of the car and started down the familiar track.

More.

The word moved her feet, bare this time, but neither the rough terrain or the cold bothered her.

More.

More for Amina. Just a bit more. Anything for her. Anything to ensure she lived.

Jane’s thoughts mingled with the whispered voice of her idol. More prayers than thoughts. Wishes and promises. Her idol wanted more and she had more to give.

She knelt before the alcove. The dim glow of the morning sun shined directly into the damp crevice. The idol stretched tall within. Its limbs stretched beyond the alcove, marking the surrounding stones down to the creek. Jane stopped just before its reaching hands. Her knees touched the ends. The cool water sent a chill through her body and she smiled.

Her phone buzzed. It had been placed in her left pocket this time and she easily retrieved it with her good hand. She didn’t recognize the caller. Someone she once knew, but she couldn’t place the name. The call went to voice mail and she returned the phone.

More.

The limbs stretched further. The marks lifted from the stone and grasped Jane’s legs and traveled up her body, wrapping around her waist.

It could have what it wanted. Jane threw her head back and looked to the darkening sky. The early night air was crisp and fresh. The end of a day, new beginnings yet to come. A breeze rustled the fabric of her t-shirt and the wisps of loose hair. This was how it felt to fly. She stretched her arms, like the children wearing her Icarus. An entire world before her. Jane ascended with the idol’s blessings. She was above all worry. The earthly cares of the world beneath her. For a moment, Jane inhaled the air. She closed her eyes and soared over the grassy fields of the Icarus ad, her children laughing beside her.

And then her flesh set aflame.

Her screams echoed off the stone and trees. The oak leaves rattled with her cries as her flesh melted from her bone. It slipped off her cheeks and ran down her shoulders. Her vision blackened as her eyes sank from its hollows on her face. Her teeth dropped from her gums and her tongue dried and shriveled, all of it falling into the creek below. Her shrieks turned into groans, and then gasps, until she no longer had vocal chords to cry out.

The idol gleamed with the fresh glimmer of moonlight.

More. More. More. Its call grew louder as Jane’s grew weaker. Its form lengthened beyond the alcove, the dark mark spreading across the entire creek. Jane’s form melted into nothing as the form took in every last ounce of her, bone, muscle, tendons, organs. More. More. More. More. All until Jane was no more and her idol looked down upon the trails it had called home for centuries.

Clothes were all that remained as birds flitted from the trees overlooking the creek. The bundled fabric of her sweatpants protected her phone from the water enough for it to still function. It buzzed. A call from someone Jane once knew, but the call went unanswered.

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Photos used on ColbyStream are by Monica Gozalo, Kelly Sikkema, Raul Angel, Kareya Saleh, Caique Nascimento, Ayo Ogunseinde, and Midjourney.

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