Nonsense

mistymidnight

Author's Notes: I'm trying something new. Since my Microsoft Word doesn't work, I uploaded a blank document (I can still upload Word, I just can't open it. Very silly computers, indeed. If you listen to my dad they're the root of all evil. If we got rid of the computers, there would be no war, conflict, discrimination, or limp salads. But I digress.) So now I'm writing directly into the Preview/Edit text box. That's why it might look weird.

Chapter Fifteen

"Tara."

Tara looked up from her homework at her father. "Yes, Daddy?"

Her father gestured for her to stand up. "Tara, go get Donny. I need some help outside."

"Donny's not here," Tara said. "I don't exactly know where he is."

"Then you'll have to help me, girl," Daddy said, not unkindly. But he didn't exactly sound thrilled at the idea either.

"Okay, sure," Tara said, willing to help. Daddy was actually asking for her to help him. Maybe he didn't think so little of her after all.

"Good," Daddy said, walking to the back door. "I need some help turning the gardens over for next year."

Tara nodded and followed him across the back porch, her school shoes making a clickety-clack sound across the old wood.

At the sound, Daddy turned around. "You can't do it in those shoes," he spat disgustedly.

"I-I can ch-change my shoes, s-sir," Tara said quickly. She couldn't mess this up. She wouldn't.

"Don't bother," Daddy snapped, continuing toward the garden. "Tell Donny to help me when he gets back."

Tara frowned at herself, ashamed. For a second, she'd thought she was useful for something. For a second, she'd had a purpose.

She turned slowly and headed for the back door, using her foot to adjust the doormat so it was more centered in front of the door. I can do something useful in these shoes.

Then she said it. Like a swear word that slips out when someone is extremely frustrated or angry, Tara said it. "Spiritus, pneum, anima." Breath, breath, breath. Tara recognized the words--Latin--but couldn't exactly place why she'd said them. She wasn't familiar with the combination she'd just recited.

She found out what had happened when her father's frightened swearing was carried to her by the wind. "Jesus!" he yelled. "It's moving! All on its own!"

Tara raced to the garden and was greeted by her cursing father and a struggling scarecrow, trying its hardest to get down from the pole it was perched upon. Tara understood. Something inside her had snapped. Right about her worthlessness or not, she didn't need Daddy reminding her about it every day. She grinned as she said the next word: "Cesso." Cease. The scarecrow stopped its hellish dance and hung limply as scarecrows were supposed to. And Daddy looked terrified. Good. And he knew that Tara had been involved in the whole thing. Even better.

"Tara, go inside," he commanded, trying to retain his authority. "You pull that magic crap again and you'll be very, very sorry. Understood?"

Tara nodded. She knew when Daddy was serious, and she'd never use her magic to harm someone. She wasn't even capable of it.

Daddy knew.

Tara cursed him for his knowledge.

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"Mom?" Tara called, returning home from school. "How was your appointment? Did the test results come back in?"

No answer. "Mom?" She heard a tiny noise from upstairs and begin to climb the staircase. "Mom? You okay?"

She opened the door to her mother's room and gasped in shock. Her mother was sobbing, sprawled out on the bed.

"Mom! Mom! What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Her mother looked up at her through red-rimmed eyes, smiled weakly, and said, "The results came back."

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Lung cancer. Tara had heard about it. Apparently smoking increased your odds of getting it. Mom had never touched a cigarette in her life, except when she was handing one to Daddy.

So Daddy got to smoke and Mommy got to get sick because of it. It wasn't fair. Daddy zipped right along with his lovely addiction to cigarettes, without a care in the world, and everybody else paid the price. It made Tara sick to her stomach.

But what made her feel worse was the dread she felt for herself. Am I going to die of lung cancer? She felt horrible that she question wasn't Is my mother going to die of lung cancer?

Tara hugged Miss Kitty for the first time in years.

And then she set off for the woods.

She had some thinking to do. And she knew just the spot.

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Three guesses where Tara's going!

I didn't really want to make Tara's mom have cancer, because that's what Joyce died of. But I have limited knowledge of medicine and diseases, and the only other potentially fatal illness I could think of was Alzheimers. I had it on repeat in my brain (both my grandfathers died from Alzheimers) and couldn't think of anything else. So I chose cancer. And I feel bad about having to choose a way to possibly bump off one of my characters. =(

mistymidnight