A Box of Weeds

The Pearl

Janie picked up the pearl from the attic floor. She’d spent the day in her grandmother’s Victorian to take one last look before the family sold the estate.

She put it in her pocket, then went downstairs. She’d been there all afternoon and had only found broken knick-knacks and an old camera. At the second floor landing, she stopped. Something was different.

Hours earlier, the rundown home featured peeling wallpaper, torn carpets, and so much dust it was hard to discern the colors of the furniture. Now, the immaculate home gleamed with pride and furniture polish.

“Deborah, there you are. She’s in labor, come quick!” A strangely dressed woman hurried her along down the hall. Her frilly dress sported more lace than all the doilies in the attic.

Inside the bedroom, a round-bellied woman struggled against the pain of childbirth.

Janie observed her great grandmother give birth through the eyes of the servant girl.

“Something’s wrong!” The woman who she’d followed earlier barked orders, and Janie obeyed as best she could.

Her leg felt hot like someone pressed a lit cigarette to her flesh. She retrieved the pearl from her pocket. It glowed a strange blue. For a moment, she forgot about the drama and focused on the glow.

“We’re losing her!” What would happen if the mother and baby both died?

A blinding flash filled the room as the pearl imploded. Mother and child faded away in the early evening gloom.

Deborah shook the strange vision from her mind. She’d done it again. Her visions always took her to the places of “what could have been.”

The servant fingered the line of pearls around her neck and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Sometimes she worried about her overactive imagination.

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294 Words