a free sci-fi short story
by Erin Zarro
This was the place.
The school had stood here once, many years ago. The imprint of my trauma still lingered; I felt it in the wind.
The Book had said to find a place with resonance. A place where the path of my life had completely changed.
I took a breath, let it out. I didn’t want to remember, but for this to work, I had to face the memories.
Afterward, my life hadn’t been horrible.
I’d gone to college and had become a nurse. I had had a job at a prestigious medical center.
I’d retired from there. My co-workers had thrown a huge retirement party for me. I’d gone home. I’d felt amazing. I’d done good in this world. I’d never married, but that had never bothered me.
Until I’d found the Book.
If I hadn’t been traumatized, hospitalized, and shunned by my peers …maybe someone would have loved me. I’d always felt wrong in my skin, completely unlovable.
And then…
I’d found the Book, and my life was about to change once again.
Yes, this is the place where I’d do the ritual.
I set the bag I’d bought on the grass and rummaged through it for my supplies. Salt for the magical circle. A pentagram necklace. A ceremonial blade. Candles.
The sun was setting, and the sky became alive with multicolored hues and golden light. I was supposed to wait until midnight, but my stomach twisted with anxiety…and excitement. I’d do the spell now, underneath all this beautiful light.
I touched the scars on my forehead, cheek, and chin. If this did what it was supposed to, the scars would be gone. I’d be beautiful, and maybe I’d have a husband and a few kids. Grandkids. My heart filled with joy at the thought.
All those lonely years would no longer exist.
My hands, stiff with arthritis, shook as I poured the salt in a circle on the grass. The memories tried to come back, but I pushed them away. They would not take away my happiness.
Once done, I took a step back and studied my work. The circle was a bit lopsided, a bit more like an oval, but it would do. The Book hadn’t said that the circle had to be perfect.
Brushing that thought aside, I put the pentagram necklace in the center. Felt the cool breeze caress my face. Looked forward to my new life.
The next thing was to drink the potion I’d made. It was supposed to put me into the correct vibration to cross space and time.
My heart raced as I lifted the Mason jar from my bag. The liquid inside was glowing; the scant sunlight made it look cloudy, thick, and moldy. My eyes narrowed. Maybe my vision was deteriorating again. That just wasn’t possible. Why would the sunset cause…this?
A side effect of the magic, maybe? Had I left the Mason jar in the bag too long?
I took a deep breath, let it out, and swallowed it all at once. It tasted vile, but I forced myself not to spit it out.
Shivering, I set the Mason jar down on the grass and picked up my ceremonial blade. I looked around, making sure no one was around. I didn’t want any interference.
Gathering my courage, I brought the blade down onto my palm. The flare of pain made me cry out, but then the warmth of the blood as it seeped out of the wound took my breath away. I felt stronger. Braver. Ready for whatever this spell would throw at me.
My heart raced as I followed the path of the salt, dripping blood on it as I walked, murmuring the incantation. The salt turned a reddish-pink color and glowed. Or maybe my eyes were being weird again.
And…I couldn’t remember the next step. Damn it. I glanced at my bag. The Book was inside. I glanced up at the sky. It was pretty much dusk now.
And it was dangerous. I couldn’t take the time to parse the old, old English writing. I’d have to improvise.
I’d done a lot of that as a nurse. It seemed everything never went quite the way I’d expected.
A cool breeze went past, and I swore I smelled burnt flesh.
But that was impossible. All there was was this huge field, my memories, and the materials for my spell. I shivered, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
Back to the spell.
What was next?
I couldn’t remember.
Oh…the meditation? Another incantation?
Damn, my memory was horrible now.
I eyed the bag again.
To hell with it. Meditation it was.
I closed my eyes and pictured the school where it had happened, the place that once stood here. Most of the details were fuzzy now. I’d been very young.
As I recalled, it was a tall and looming building. It was big. Several long hallways. A faint smell of mustiness. Walls stained yellow. A small bathroom in each room. I’d spent a lot of time in there, crying.
This next bit made my breath catch and my stomach turn.
I had to go back to the memory of my trauma.
It was…I didn’t want to go back there, even in my mind. But I remembered this part well. For the spell to work, I had to get the time, the place, my age, and every detail correct. My eyes narrowed. The Book had never said what would happen if I got any details wrong.
Mentally shrugging, I went back to the meditation.
I could see the two brats who’d done it clearly. One short, one taller. A girl with curly red hair and a boy with short black hair. He was wearing jeans; she was wearing a blue blouse and a matching skirt. Tennis shoes underneath. The boy was wearing tennis shoes, too.
The little girl stepped toward me. She had something in her hands. With lightning speed that amazed me even to this day, she held it up —
And the boy did the same. His evil grin still haunted my dreams.
In a blink, I was back in the school. The faintly musty scent filled my senses, and I looked around me. The walls were dingy, and the doors stretched for what looked like miles.
Children surrounded me, the drone of their voices hurting my ears. So many. A teacher stood outside her room, watching us all closely and reprimanding several students who were misbehaving.
I looked down at my feet and saw smaller tennis shoes on them. I looked at my hands. The skin was smooth, not wrinkled like it was…before.
I touched my hair. It went down to my waist and didn’t have a single gray hair in it. It looked like gold in my hands.
When I was a kid, my hair was blonde, but had darkened over the years. Now it was mostly gray.
The spell must have worked! I was a kid again, and I was back in the school where it all happened.
My stomach flip-flopped, and my palms sweated. This was really happening. I could change the outcome. I could change the entire course of my life.
A shiver went up my spine. I felt as if I were being watched. I spun around, fully expecting to see nothing. The PTSD always made me felt like that.
But this time —
The two kids I remembered during the meditation stood there, holding the objects in their small hands. But this didn’t seem right. It had happened inside the class —
I was inside the classroom now, and we faced each other.
Their arms raised and then there was excruciating pain on my face—
As I tumbled to the ground, clutching my burning face, something occurred to me. I was supposed to be able to stop them! Why hadn’t I been able to do that?
The kids’ laughter felt like sandpaper to my senses and too loud.
This time, I looked at my hands more closely.
I hadn’t realized it before, but my hands were translucent…like…ghost hands. I had two seconds to process that before the next blink.
A tiny closed casket. My mother kneeling in front of it, her hands folded, and her cheeks wet with tears. A collage of pictures of myself as a young child stood next to the coffin surrounded by flowers.
I took a breath, willing time to stop.
It said…
Beloved Daughter.
I realized then…I’d had a good life. It wasn’t perfect. But it was a life. Now I had nothing.
And then the burn came.