As relief from reading Journal of a Plague Year, Station Eleven, and The Plague, the board of EPIC Group Writers penned a serial novel for your entertainment. Since each author could only see the immediately preceding chapter, there are numerous plot twists and wild goose chases. Fortunately the “instigator,” Diane Naab, was able to pull the whole novella together after it veered wildly off course from the original story. Enjoy!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Laura Kemp
Jason was torn between asking about these mysterious more-ancient-than-life-itself powers or ploughing into his cooling mound of potatoes. Maybe his powers allowed him to do both.
“Tell me about these abilities. This, uh . . . gift,” he said, keeping most of a large spoonful of buttery spuds in his mouth. “More ancient than life itself? Really?” Jason swallowed and pointed down the table. “Pass the salt, please.” He was glad Lucille had eaten earlier and was reading in her room. She didn’t need to hear about all this right now.
Uncle Bill’s fork froze in midair. “It’s not an overstatement, Jason. This is real. You have a gift. Some call it a burden.” He waved his fork and its glazed carrot cargo at Jason. “It all depends how you use it.”
Jason chewed in silence. Maybe he’d seen a few signs of the powers they spoke of. What about that time in Alaska he’d wished his best friend Ned didn’t have leukemia, and the next day he tested free of the cancer? Or when his favorite teacher was about to leave class with a migraine but Jason wished it gone and Mr. Lester sat back down and finished the lesson.
Jason leaned forward and leveled his brown eyes at Aunt Ruby. “Does this “power” have anything to do with curing people?”
Ruby shot a worried glance at her husband and turned to put the milk in the fridge.
“Yes.” Uncle Bill pushed his plate away. “That’s part of it.
Jason’s heart pounded with joy. “Well then, I’ll cure Mom and then I can go back to Alaska to live with her again, right?”
Uncle Bill’s shoulders drooped. “Well, here’s where the burden part comes in. You can only cure someone who’s not a blood relative. When I said it’s stronger than blood, I meant blood connections mean nothing next to the powers you have at your—”
Jason’s chair clattered to the floor behind him as he leaped up. “What kind of B.S. power is that? I can’t even help my own mother?” His thigh pulled at the tablecloth as he pushed past, launching his plate and its half-eaten pork chop onto the linoleum.
“Wait!” His uncle called after Jason but made no move to follow. “There is one way you can get around the blood relative thing.”
Ruby leaned close and gripped Bill’s shoulder. “Are you sure you should tell him? He doesn’t know his father died trying to relieve that burden, to change the gift so it could help anyone.”
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