by Неизвестный
Look how he slept, with a smile on his face, breathing easy, no fears. I watched him sleep for a long time.
“Time’s a-wasting, beautiful,” the jester said.
I shook myself, — clack, clack — leaned over, and tapped Ray’s forehead with the jester. “Ray,” I murmured. My voice came out hollow and spooky. “Oh, Ray. Wake up.”
He sighed in his sleep, turned over, and opened his eyes.
Then he screamed.
It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. He screamed really loud, and for a long, long time. He backed away from me until he bumped into the wall behind his bed, and he kept shoving with his feet even though he couldn’t go any farther. I didn’t even have to do anything. He screamed and screamed.
The light flicked on. I turned to look and saw Chris and Will standing in the doorway, staring. Then they started screaming too, and clutching each other.
So sweet. Life was great!
“It’s a...it’s a....” Ray stammered when they’d all run out of air. “It’s got to be a trick.” His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence.
I rose to my toes and did three pirouettes, my arms outstretched.
Will and Chris were panting. “It’s got to be a dream,” Chris said.
“That’s right. Just a dream,” said Ray.
I danced over and pinched his cheek with my finger bones. He screamed and collapsed again. Two tours jetés and I reached the door. I patted Will on the cheek, and then I, well, I grabbed Chris’s head and kissed him right on the mouth to thank him for all those nighttime stories I hadn’t been able to stop myself from listening to. Will shrieked and staggered backward. Chris collapsed to the floor as soon as I let go of him. I slipped out into the hall and toe-stepped to the top of the stairs, where I turned and waved the jester at them. The jester laughed maniacally. I started down.
“What’s all that damned racket up there?” yelled Dad, stepping to the foot of the stairs. “You kids are noisy every night, but this is worse than usual — ai-yi-yiiiieee!”
I tapped his shoulder with the jester wand and he backed away from me, leaving me a clear path to the front door. I went out.
“Wait.”
I stopped on the porch and looked back. Mom stood in the doorway, her hair up in curlers, her robe tight around her. “What are you doing in Lizzie’s ballet costume? Who are you?”
“Mom?” I whispered.
She came out onto the porch in her bare feet. “Lizzie? Is that a costume? What are you doing?”
“Scaring my brothers.”
“But...” She touched my cheekbone. “Lizzie! What happened to you? Lizzie —”
I ran.
I stopped at a bus stop shelter three blocks away. I sat on the bench and fluffed my skirts out, then thought back over the last half hour. The best night of my life. Finally I got to be the monster, and now I didn’t have to be afraid of anything. Ray, screaming. What a great scared face! Chris collapsing, almost fainting. Just because of me! Will backing away. Just because of a few bones. They’d never be able to tease me about being scared again. Just let them try it.
I smiled and smiled. At least, I felt like I was smiling.
“So when does this wear off?” I asked the jester wand at last.
“Wear off?” he said.
“When do I go back to being my flesh-and-blood self?”
“You don’t.”
“What?”
“You got what you paid for. A scare they’ll never get over. We can do it again tomorrow night, and every night if you want! Isn’t it great?”
* * *
No buses ran this late at night, and I wasn’t sure if any driver would have let me on anyway. I ended up walking back to the fairgrounds. It didn’t matter. I didn’t get tired.
But I was too late. Madama Syzygy’s booth wasn’t there anymore. The rides and pitch booths and snack stands were gone. Nothing was left but a litter of candy wrappers, a few squashed cans, and a big black Ferris wheel. I heard fractured music and creaking noises from the wheel. It was running, even this late at night.
Maybe the people running the Ferris wheel would know where Madama Syzygy had gone. Maybe they wouldn’t run screaming when they saw me; maybe they’d wait long enough for me to ask questions. Maybe they saw people like me all the time.
I walked through the night toward the wheel. I wondered if day would ever come.
Over the past thirty-odd years, Nina Kiriki Hoffman has sold adult and YA novels and more than 250 short stories. Her works have been finalists for the World Fantasy, Mythopoeic, Sturgeon, Philip K. Dick, and Endeavour awards. Her fiction has won a Stoker and a Nebula Award.
Nina does production work for the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. She teaches writing through Lane Community College. She has taught at the Clarion Science Fiction Workshop and at Odyssey. She lives in Eugene, Oregon.
For a list of Nina's publications, check out: http://ofearna.us/books/hoffman.html.
SNOW ANGEL
by
AMY GRECH
Let me tell you about the extraordinary gift I gave my sweet daughter, Suzy, one bone-chilling Sunday morning in December. Born with Cerebral Palsy, a devastating disease that left her confined to a wheelchair, she tolerated a constant barrage of scrutiny. For twelve years Suzy endured, unable to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. Her resilience never ceased to amaze me.
Picture a rose bud, its pale, pink petals on the verge of blossoming when the ravages of disease prevent that rose from flourishing. That's the fleeting life my daughter led. I refused to let her fade away…
* * *
My wife, Catherine, and I wanted to make Suzy’s childhood as normal as possible, a daunting task we took in earnest. Whenever we brought her to the movies or the zoo, other children would stop and stare. Suzy sat helpless in her wheelchair and mopedtrying hard not to cry her tiny hands balled up into perpetual fists, always on the defensive.
I remember driving home from the movies one night when my daughter asked me a startling question: "Daddy, why does everyone stare at me? I wish I could disappear when I feel their cold eyes." Suzy regarded me with deep-set inquisitive, azure eyes that sparkled. "Do they hate me? Am I ugly?"
I flinched, like I’d been punched in the gut. "You’re the prettiest girl I know." I cleared my throat. "People don’t always accept what they can’t understandthey don’t know how to react. When someone looks different it's something to wonder aboutthey’re curious, that’s all." I flashed a winning smile in the rearview mirror. Despite her debilitating condition, Suzy's mind remained keen; there was no humoring her.
"I want to be like other kids my age and walk, run and play! I didn’t ask to be different." Suzy frowned, defeated.
Her mother changed the subject. "There’s a big difference between staring at someone and looking. Do you follow?"
"I think so." Suzy nodded. "When you look at me I feel safe, but when other people stare, I feel vulnerable, like an ant under a magnifying glass." Suzy shook her head. "It's not fairI just want to fit in. Is that too much to ask for? I only have a few friends and I think they just feel sorry for me." She lowered her eyes and stared at her rag doll legs.
"Cheer up, Suzy. We adore you. You’re uniqueno one can take that awayand you’ve got a lot to offer, like your magnificent voice. You sing like an angel. I tingle all over whenever I hear it. Daddy does, too." Catherine reached out and patted Suzy’s arm. "That’s something to be proud of. Cherish it. We do."
I smiled in the rearview mirror at Suzy sitting in back of the van and watched her eyes light up, full of recognition.
Suzy grinned. "People always pay attention when I sing; it helps me feel free and forget about my wheelchair for a while." She looked up, eager for encouragement.
"What else makes me special, Mommy?"
My wife spun around in the captain's chair and spoke to Suzy face to face: "You’re the smartest girl I know. Creative, too, with
a wonderful sense of humor. People fear what they don’t understand. They don’t mean to hurt your feelings; they feel intimidated so they say cruel things that make them feel superior. That doesn’t make it right, but that’s the way people are sometimes." Catherine gave Suzy’s arm a little squeeze. "Savor those magical moments when you’re a big, bright shining star. Conjure them up whenever you feel sad and they will see you through the rough patches."
Suzy nodded. "I’ll do my best." With a mischievous look in her eye, she said, "Jealousy is dangerous. It makes people do bad things."
"Who told you that, sweetie?" I asked with a hint of concern in my voice.
"No one. I figured it out by myself. I’m an invisible bystander. I see the way people argue and complain about the dumbest things." Wearing a goofy grin, she shook her head from side to side. "There are a lot of unhappy people in the world…"
Puzzled, Catherine scratched her head and looked at Suzy. "What do they fight about?"
"Lots of things. It’s free entertainment, better than any of Mom’s soap operas." She stared out the window, yearning for the comforting darkness beyond.
"Like what?" Catherine frowned.
Suzy rolled her eyes, growing tired of these trivial games but still willing to play along. "Did you see that couple sitting in front of us at the movies?"
I nodded. "What about them?"
"They really did a number on each other. The man pointed out the woman's flaws and the woman listed his bad habits. Things started to get ugly—I thought they were going to start hitting each other, but then the movie started so they had to stop arguing." Suzy giggled. "I wonder who won…"
* * *
I lifted Suzy out of the wheelchair gently. She winced when I set her down on the bed and injected a carefully measured dose of Morphine into her limp arm, adding to the patchwork of endless bruises.
"Daddy, can the doctors make me better some day? I hate the painful prick of needles—I get jabbed so often I feel like a human pincushion." Suzy sank back into a sea of soft pillows and stared at the soothing cotton candy walls, bathed in a soft glow from her bedside lamp. "I’ve always wondered what it feels like to eat ice cream without pain getting in the way. Do you think I’ll ever find out?"
I pulled the covers up to her chin and tucked her in, so she felt safe. "I know how much it would mean to you, to be comfortable for a change." I bent down and kissed her forehead tenderly.
She signed. "Can they fix me and take the hurt away, or am I broken beyond repair?"
"It’s complicated. The doctors are doing the best they can to put the puzzle pieces together, Suzy. We just have to be patient." I bit my lip. "I’d love to say modern medicine has the cure, but I’m afraid there aren’t any easy answers."
Suzy looked at me and said, "Can you help me? You make problems disappear, like magic."
"There’s a way, but I doubt your mother would approve." I sighed.
"Don’t tell her—it will be our secret." She frowned. "Does Mommy know what it feels like to be stuck in that chair every day? Does she have any idea how small it makes me feel?"
"I’m sure she has no idea." I shook my head. "I’ll see what I can do to convince her."
"Please make it better. You always do.” Suzy nodded. "Good night, Daddy. I love you."
"I love you more. Good night, Suzy. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite." I turned off the light and shut the door behind me.
* * *
I joined Catherine in the kitchen for some coffee. "I just tucked Suzy in."
"She’s been really depressed lately." My wife shuddered and wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, craving warmth. "There must be something we can do to lift her sprits."
"I doubt it. She’s tired of relying on us for everything. Suzy isn’t a baby anymore — stop coddling her. She needs her independence to feel whole. It may not seem like much, but it’s all she’s got." I took a long drink from my mug, roused by a jolt of caffeine. "She asked me if the doctors could stop the pain. You knew she would seek solutions someday. The moment has arrived." I stared at my wife. "I gave her some important choices to consider."
"What kind of choices? Do you think this is a game? It pains me greatly to see our daughter so sad. I’ve come to terms with Suzy’s plight. You should do the same." Catherine shifted in her seat.
I shook my head. "I told her the doctors were trying their best to make her comfortable, but her condition is difficult to treat. Is that so terrible? It’s true. Don’t you think honesty is important?”
Catherine bit her lip. "Suzy is extremely impressionable. You shouldn’t encourage her, filling her head with flights of fancy—trust me that can only end badly."
She finished her coffee and poured herself another steaming cup from the half-empty pot on the counter. Catherine frowned.
I gave my wife a sidelong glance. "I want to help her realize her full potential, now that the time is right."
Catherine slammed her hand down on the table. "What potential?! What kind of future can she possible look forward to?"
I finished my coffee and pushed the empty mug aside. "One that’s always pain-free. It’s a gruesome notion, I know, but it’s the solution Suzy has been seeking all along. I promised to help her..."
"Help her? You’re incorrigible!" My wife glared at me, startled by the implication.
I looked at her with a straight face and said, "It’s time to end the pain for good."
"That’s unconscionable! You're talking about ending your own daughter’s life like it’s a father’s duty!" Catherine’s face turned bright red.
"Calm down and lower your voice, or you'll wake her. She looked peaceful for a change."
I stood with my back to Catherine, leaning on the counter; three small, glass vials of food coloring scattered among various baking supplies in a sapphire blue mixing bowl caught my eye. One azure, another sunshine yellow and a third, cotton-candy-pink. I shoved them in my pants pocket before she could protest.
"Don’t think of it as murder. Consider it a mercy killing and it takes one the guise of humanity." I looked my wife in the eye. "Suzy is in constant agony. What kind of life is that for a little girl? I thought you’d want to do what’s best for our daughter."
My wife clasped her hands together for courage. "I do, but she's got her whole life ahead of her. I’m not ready to let her go."
"How can you be so selfish? Suzy can’t run or jump or play. She’s never experienced childish whimsy, confined to that chair while her body betrays her. Where’s the joy in that?" I started to pace. "If you love Suzy, set her free. Try, for me."
Catherine frowned. "I don’t think I can." I felt my wife condemning me with her cold, gray eyes. "How do you know Suzy wants to die?"
"Because she told me." I balled my large hands into fists.
* * *
The sun shone brightly as I slowly wheeled Suzy out to my maroon van parked in the backyard on Christmas Eve morning with a festive red hose tucked under my arm. Tiny glass vialsa trio of beautiful bellsjingled in my pants pocket. The backyard looked serene swathed in a glistening shroud of freshly fallen snow. The brisk air did little to quell my adrenaline rush despite the pristine scene. I struggled to remain calm, for Suzy’s sake.
Catherine followed us outside to the edge of the driveway, frantically waving a pale pink scarf. Her boots trampled soft snow underfoot as she touched Suzy’s arm lightly. "Wait a second, Peter. It’s awfully cold out here. Suzy should bundle up. I wouldn’t want to her to catch her death…" Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Good thinking. I’m glad you’re willing to do what’s best for our daughter."
"I want Suzy to be happy, no matter how sad it makes me." My wife rubbed her arms to ward off the winter chill.
Suzy admired the radiant beauty surrounding her. Mesmerized by the snowy spectacle she said, "Isn’t the snow beautiful? It makes everything look so new." She inhaled slowly; crisp cold air tickled her nose, making her sneeze.
"Snow makes Christmas perfect." Catherine buried her hands in her pockets. "It’s a winter wonderland."
Inspired by my wife’s astute observation, I reached up and grazed a nearby Pine branch.
Suzy laughed as fragile flakes drifted down, ticking her face. "I wish it snowed every day—so everything would always be clean and beautiful."
"Sometimes wishes do come true." I winked. "Life is full of wonderful surprises."
I watched my wife bend down gingerly to place a pale pink hat on Suzy’s head, covering her tiny ears and wrap a matching scarf around her slender neck.
She squeezed our daughter’s hand. "Will you sing for me, Suzy and warm my heart on this bitter-cold morning? It would mean the world to me." Catherine stood suddenly, and whispered to me, "Suzy is going to deliver the performance of a lifetime."
"I wouldn’t have it any other way."
Suzy nodded. "I’d love to!"
When she began to sing, her breath rose like steamglorious and triumphant:
Hark! The herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn king!"
peace on earth, and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled
joyful all ye nations rise
join the triumph of the skies
with th'angelic host proclaim
"Christ is born in Bethlehem."
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn king!"
Christ, by highest heav'n adored
Christ the everlasting Lord
late in time behold him come
offspring of the favored one
veiled in flesh, the godhead see
hail th'incarnate deity
pleased, as man with men to dwell