A Little Magenta Book of Mean Stories by Elizabeth Massie

Author:Elizabeth Massie [Massie, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, short stories
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2021-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

The Wills and The Way

“She meant to be born,” said Ellen. “There is no other way to explain it. She wanted life, and she made it. In spite of what the doctors tried to tell me, in spite of how they tried to prepare Randy, she is a reality.” Ellen rolled onto her side and gazed at Elaine by the drawn curtains of the hospital room.

Elaine looked at Ellen then, and it was a hard thing to do, because Ellen’s face was bathed in that faint and ethereal mist called elation, and elation was a painful thing to behold.

“I’m happy for you,” Elaine said. “For you and Randy, and for little Jane.” Elaine tried a smile. It felt like a sneer, like a lying twist of lips, but she hoped the veil of elation would keep Ellen from seeing through the truth.

“I know you’re tired,” said Ellen. “But I’m sure you have no idea how much I appreciate you being with me during labor. Your own schedule is so tight. As soon as Randy gets words out in the field, I know he’s going to want to treat you to a steak dinner. Why don’t you go home now? The baby will be brought in soon, and I need a rest, too.”

Elaine nodded and moved from the window to the side of her sister’s bed. “It was nothing. Nothing you wouldn’t have done for me. Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re a blessing, Elaine. And Jane, she is truly a miracle.”

The false smile pulled across Elaine’s face again, and she walked to the door.

“Elaine,” called Ellen. “Try to cheer up. I don’t know why you’ve been so sad lately, but things aren’t so bad in this world. Things are bound to change for you.”

“Sure,” she said. She did not look back, but pulled the heavy door open and slipped into the hallway. She hurried for the elevator, needing desperately to be away from this place, to be out of the stifling pseudo-cheerfulness of the white walls and the sweet little pictures on the walls and the flowers and the beaming new parents who roamed the hall like a demented group of Savini’s living dead.

Out in the parking lot, Elaine found her car and climbed inside. She leaned her head back against the rest, letting the uncombed strands of red hair catch in the cracks of the vinyl. Her fingers clutched the steering wheel.

“Things are bound to change,” she whispered to herself, the words spit out in furor. “If only you knew, Ellen. If only you knew what I’ve been through this past year.” A sob caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down. What good were tears? She had cried too many times, had slammed her fist into the walls until it bled, had stared with fear and longing at the pack of straight-edged blades in the bathroom. Nothing had improved.

She had continued on a sickening downhill slide into Hell.

It hadn’t always been this bad. Just last year, Elaine

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