Mary Takes The Book Home

Mary said goodbye to Helen, who was still sulking over the book, and entered her spacious suburban home. As she walked in, she caught an acrid scent in the air. It smelled like something was burning and the odor wafted from the stairwell leading to the second floor.

“Riley, what are you doing?” Mary asked, already feeling a fresh headache brewing.

For a moment there was silence. Then Mary heard soft, quick footsteps and her daughter Riley bounced down the stairway holding a smoking bundle of sticks.

Riley was dressed in a black Thrasher T-Shirt layered over a black and blue striped long-sleeved shirt. Her shoulder length hair was dyed electric blue save for the tips, which were silver.

“Um,” Riley said, looking at the smoking bundle in her hands. “I can explain. I think.”

Before Mary could respond, she heard heavier footsteps and watched as a slightly chubby, bespectacled blonde girl joined her daughter on the stairwell. In contrast to Riley, this girl was wearing a banal navy hoodie and a pair of drab gray sweats.

The girl looked shocked and slightly afraid to see Mary, despite knowing the woman for well over ten years now.

“Hey Mrs N.”

“Hi Hannah,” Mary said. She turned her eyes back to the bundle of sticks.

“It’s actually a cleansing ritual,” Riley said quickly. “There’s nothing in the Bible that says it’s sinful. It’s white magic!”

Mary felt the reflexive urge to chastise her daughter rising in her throat and then felt the sensation collapse. There was no point. The girl lost her father, what was the point of symbolic moralizing?

Mary put up a hand to stop her daughter from launching into an even more heated defense.

“As long as you don’t burn down the house, it’s none of my business.”

Hannah visibly relaxed while Riley regarded her with a confused expression.

“You okay, mom?”

“Couldn’t be better. Hey, you might like this,” Mary said, holding up her new book.

Riley froze as she saw the cover of the book, her skin turning slightly pale. This seemed odd to Mary.

“I bought this thing at the used book shop. I figured it would be a good prop for this year’s haunted house.”

“What’s written in it?” Riley asked.

Mary stared back at her blankly. Besides her initial peak behind the cover, Mary hadn’t given the book’s contents a second thought.

“I don’t know, sweetie.”

“Could I borrow it?” Riley asked.

Mary struggled with this. On the one hand, she still felt a hollow duty to try and coral her daughter back Christianity. She was already doing little rituals and other nonsense with her friends. The book was probably nothing but a prop, but it still felt like a counterproductive gesture.

On the other hand, Mary felt the distance growing between her and her daughter with every fight. Her husband’s **** only accelerated this.