by Неизвестный
Jesus, our immanuel!
Hark! The herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn king!"
Hail! The heav'n born prince of peace!
hail! The son of righteousness!
light and life to all he brings
ris'n with healing in his wings!
Mild he lays his glory by
born that man no more may die
born to raise the sons of earth
born to give them second birth
Hark! The herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn king!"
"That was the best Christmas present ever. Thank you, Suzy." Catherine kissed her daughter softly on the cheek. "Remember, Mommy loves you very much. You’ll always be my little angel."
Suzy returned the gesture. "I know, Mommy. I love you, too, but sometimes you overdo it. I’m not going to break, like some delicate China doll." She frowned. "Let me be me — that’s all I want for Christmas."
"I’m ready to let you go explore the world in spite of my reservations. I’ve kept you from it long enough." Catherine’s lips quivered. "That’s my gift to you." She shot me a dirty look.
I stared back defiantly.
"I’ll do my best." Suzy blushed as her lips curved upwards.
"Your gratitude is all I need." My wife took a deep breath and turned to go.
My daughter and I watched Catherine walk to the house without looking back, eager to continue on our journey.
"Where are you taking me, Daddy?" Suzy asked. Her eyes brightened when she saw me reach for my keys — a glimpse of something safe.
"We’re going on a spectacular Daddy/Daughter adventure — just you and me. Mommy would only ruin our fun.” I laughed, trying to make light of the situation. ”You’ve been so patient, suffering silently all these years. I admire your fortitude. I don’t think I would have held up half as well as you did. What’s your secret?"
"It’s no secret. You’re so good at showing me what being a kid is supposed to be like. I can imagine anything and forget about the pain."
I gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "You inspire me to treasure every moment."
My breath magically morphed into white plumes resembling billowy clouds. I formed a big O with my mouth and blew wobbly bursts of frigid air in Suzy’s direction.
Delighted, she giggled, captivated by the illusion, blissfully unaware of what would follow.
I wanted to prolong these precious, parting moments with my daughter, but I sensed her eagerness to move on and felt compelled to comply.
"Where are you taking me? How long will it take to get there?" Her words transformed into white wisps that vanished instantly.
"I’m bringing you to a wonderful place without grief or pain where sweet, little girls like you can make lots of friends. You’ll be there in no time. It’s your time to shine!"
I gripped the handles of her wheelchair tightly, almost as anxious to be rid of it as my daughter, and found the strength to push on. The snow clung stubbornly to the wheels, weighing them down and making the chair difficult to maneuver on treacherous terrain. I moved slowly, for fear the chair would topple over and Suzy would get hurt. She’d been through enough, so I did everything in my power to prevent an unnecessary mishap that would only add insult to injury. If it meant her departure would be delayed slightly, so be it. Easy does it.
"Daddy, will you do something for me?" Suzy smiled expectantly.
"Sure, just name it." I brushed her soft, rosy cheek with the back of my hand and she blushed.
"Tell me where snow angels come from." Her deep, blue eyes scanned the immense, blank expanse, searching for answers.
I placed my hand on my chest. "They come from the heart. Here, let me show you."
I walked over to the last pure patch of snow and fell gently onto a veritable, frigid canvas with outstretched arms. The wet, white blanket embraced me, awkwardly at first then yielded gracefully to my touch.
My daughter scrutinized my every move with jubilant anticipation.
I lay flat so my boots pointed towards my van, like a beacon, and took a deep breath. Deliberately, I brushed my hands between my head and waist with a steady sweeping motion. The powdery snow immediately dissolved, burning and numbing me simultaneously. I fought these strange sensations, akin to pain, hidden behind a saccharine smile as I worked furiously to finish the task at hand. I moved my legs as far apart as they would comfortably go and then brought them together again—a series of pseudo jumping jacks. That done, I hoisted myself up to a sitting position and rolled away before standing, so as not to damage my delicate creation.
I studied my hands, red and raw when I finished, but the look of sheer satisfaction on Suzy’s face made it all worthwhile.
"Where’s my snow angel, Daddy? I don’t see her." Suzy looked around, puzzled.
"She’s fast asleep, but she’ll be awake real soon." I chuckled. "Close your eyes. No peeking."
"Okay. Tell me when it’s safe to look. I know I’ll like what I see — you never disappoint me."
"Give me a minute, sweetie. I want to wake her as gently as possible, so she doesn’t get startled and fly away. Angels are such fickle creatures."
"I can wait. It comes naturally." She sighed.
"You’ve never seen anything this beautiful. I guarantee it." I reached into my pants pocket and conjured up my little helpers. I fumbled with the tiny tops for a moment — my frigid fingers slow and clumsy — before working some magic. I got down on one knee right next to Suzy’s snow angel. First I used my finger to create her azure eyes — two drops from my blue vial did the trick; and with the pink one, I added a cotton-candy smile to her face; I made her torso, arms, and legs bright pink too. I drew squiggles for Suzy’s golden ringlets and opened the yellow vial to let the sun shine down. Her face I left perfectly white for her radiant beauty.
I cast three empty vials aside in a snowdrift, where they jingled once more, in unison.
"You can open your eyes now." I stood beside Suzy, eager too see her reaction.
She gasped and her beautiful blue eyes grew wide. "She looks just like me!"
"That’s your snow angel." I pointed to the otherworldly figure, which seemed to hover above a white shroud.
"My snow angel seems so peaceful. It looks like she’s floating in the snow." My daughter sighed.
I nodded. "That’s because she can fly."
* * *
"I can’t wait to make new friends! I’m going to have so much fun!"
"You'll have plenty soon enough." I winked.
Exerting considerable effort, I parked Suzy’s chair in front of the van and went around back. With shaky hands, I attached one end of the hose to the exhaust pipe; I brought the other end over to the passenger side door and opened it. "It’s a short trip—you’ll be there before you know it doing the things you’ve always dreamed about."
Suzy nodded enthusiastically. "Hurry up—I’ve got a lot of catching up to do—I don’t want to miss anything!"
"I know—you’ve missed so much already. Hang on. We’re almost there." I looked down at my daughter and told myself I was doing the right thing. "Put your arms around my neck and off you go."
"What about my chair, Daddy?" She frowned, unsure of what would follow.
"You won't need it where you're going." I smiled, reassuring her.
Her hands trembled as she struggled to open her arms. "Does that mean I can run and jump and play?! I’ll be able to do whatever I want without hurting all the time!"
I nodded. "You can play hopscotch, skip rope, go swimming, ride a bicycle, or even climb a tree whenever you want to, for as long as you like."
"Hooray! I’m going to have so much fun! I don’t know what do first! Decisions, decisions!" Suzy smirked, unable to contain her excitement.
"I know you’re eager, sweetie. I won’t keep you much longer." I brushed her check with the back of my hand.
My legs threatened to give way. I lifted her arms and wrapped them aroun
d my shoulders, savoring her tender touch.
Nestled there in the crook of my arm, my daughter felt content. I could see it in her bright blue eyes. I stood there and marveled at the moment. Her warmth gave me the courage to carry on. I made my way over to the garage, each wavering step bringing my daughter closer to freedom. I lifted her into the van and strapped her into the captain's chair where her mother always sat. Precious cargo. With her legs dangling my daughter seemed genuinely happy and carefree, like any other girl her age.
"You can do anything you want.” I leaned over so she could reach my face. "Give Daddy a kiss before you go." I shivered when Suzy’s lips, soft as rose petals, brushed stubble on my cheek.
"Hold on to this." I set the hose down gently in my daughter's lap.
"Why?" Eyes wide, she stared at me and I suddenly realized how frightened and confused she must have felt.
"It will make you fly, just like your snow angel." I kissed her forehead and she nodded, looking slightly baffled and strangely relieved.
Suzy grabbed the hose and looked up at me seeking reassurance. "Aren't you coming with me, Daddy? I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone"
"Grown-ups aren’t allowed. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of—it’s perfectly safe. You won’t be alone for long."
Suzy nodded slowly, drinking it all in.
I opened the driver's side door, leaned over and started the engine. The van roared to life. I closed the door and stepped back to watch. I heard a faint hiss through the passenger’s side door.
Suzy mouthed two words: Thank you. In reply the words you're welcome crossed my lips.
Bathed in the morning sunlight, Suzy’s soft, golden curls framed her face, like a halo. As I strained to see through the murky haze, her eyes fluttered briefly before closing. Her head drooped, like a rose deprived of water too long. My daughter's sudden surrender surprised me; under the same circumstances I would have put up a fight for as long as my strength would allow, but Suzy chose not to struggle and I loved her for it.
I waited a good half-hour, wanting to be sure she passed on before I pulled her body out of the van. Holding my breath, I cut the engine, removed the hose clutched in my daughter's delicate hands and pulled the other end off the muffler. I glanced down and sighed—her straight fingers resembled strong, steady wings that would carry her high. I placed two fingers briefly on her wrist, checking for a pulse, relieved not to find one. Moving with care, I laid her down gently on the blanket of white she adored, right next to her snow angel.
SECRETS OF THE SARGASSO
by
MORGAN GRIFFITH
Kasey Reed parted ropy sargassum and slipped under the surface of blue sea. Her wet suit was more for protection against coral and marine life than cold. Water temperature was around seventy degrees. She dove down, regretting having left her camera behind as the underwater world filled the view of her mask. Activity above caught her eye, but it was only the scurried repositioning of small puffer fish she had disturbed from the bed of floating seaweed.
Remarkable clarity of the water was one of the things that made the Sargasso Sea so beautiful. Its mysteries were even older than those of the adjacent Bermuda Triangle. That was why she was here. A black market buyer and substantial payoff were at stake.
Kasey was born for this work. Ms. Vander at the orphanage had been the one to suggest oceanography, trying desperately to give Kasey something to hold onto when year after year passed by her like all of the prospective parents gravitating toward other children. She must make the most of her gifts, she was told. For an unwanted orphan she had done quite well.
As she swam deeper Kasey clicked on the flashlight hanging at her belt. A school of neon fish darted feverishly to avoid its beam. A scarred hammerhead gave her wide berth. Today marked six months since her breakup with Martin. The anniversary had not escaped her. Parting ways had done more than wreck her emotionally. The Miskatonic University had funded most of her jobs---initiated and backed them with reliable support. Severing ties with one of its acquisitions specialists had taken a huge bite out of her income.
Martin. What would he say if he knew she was here, searching for an artifact he had been seeking since well before they met? Location data had been vague and cryptic beyond the norm, even for relics such as these. The buyers Kasey worked with now might not be as respected or prestigious, but the money was generally decent. Prestigious. That was laughable. Who was she kidding? These men were dangerous and not to be trusted. No one had her back now.
Shadows of the sea thickened as she descended. There was a certain beauty in its eeriness. Her flashlight beam played mistily over a gelatinous medusa gliding past with curling strands. As it disappeared into darkness something else caught her attention. The oddness of it stung her eyes with disbelief and wonder. She panned her light slowly, counting tails. Five, seven, no, nine completely intact bomber planes standing straight up, noses plunged into the ocean floor. World War II Mustangs, she was guessing. Spaced evenly apart they created a mystical, somewhat disturbing resemblance to graveyard crosses. Chills climbed her shoulder blades.
Did Martin know about this?
Kasey had read about governments dumping planes in the ocean rather than scraping them. Such sites had been discovered elsewhere in the world. But nine perfectly upright? She had seen strange things in her line of work. She herself would probably qualify for that list.
Remembering safety protocol she scanned the vicinity. The immediate area was clear. She approached cautiously, eyes taking in the flowering, miniature ecosystem taking root on the planes. Whitish trails of mollusks ran the length of corroding wings. An underwater forest of algae waved gracefully. Barnacles clustered like rock formations. Eels slithered through missing cockpit windows, while crustaceans and sponges dotted the ocean floor.
And there were bones. Human skulls and bones, stained green with algae.
This wasn’t a simple plane dump. What had happened here? Perhaps her buyer’s information was correct after all.
Kasey was looking for a book bound in the skin of an ancient monk; wrapped in crimson silk, and locked in a strongbox encircled with chain. The only documentation of the tome’s existence hinted of an aerial escort to cast it into the sea. Someone in a position of power or wealth had clearly not wanted the book found. Considering the time frame, if Kasey’s estimation of these planes was correct, she could easily picture stealth WWII submarines on reconnaissance missions.
What would Ms. Vander think of her talents now if Kasey recovered such a thing?
She had strayed far from pure oceanography. Circumstances had dictated it, really, but even working alone had not silenced the questions haunting her psyche. She could not run away from who or what she was, and the only answer she had discovered was unacceptable.
Kasey gently ran her gloved fingers over the five pair of lamellae, the filaments of folded tissue along each side of her neck. Her wet suit had been custom fitted to accommodate them. Human DNA did not allow for gills. Yet here she was nonetheless.
When she turned eighteen Kasey had followed a few clues from Ms. Vander. Abandoned at the orphanage front steps, a simple letter postmarked from Dunwich, Massachusetts, had been pinned to her baby blanket with its odd design of water and reeds. The trip was apropos of her life. Men were drawn to her dark hair and violet eyes until they got close enough to see her deformity, or feel the wrongness of her. Most animals sensed it immediately. In Dunwich, as she had stood on the wharf looking out at the sea, an old woman in a black shawl had disturbingly ridden up on a creaking bicycle, crossed herself, and uttered the damning words.
“You’re a descendent of Lavinia Whateley.”
Kasey had no idea what that meant at the time. Research had sent her reeling.
How the fuck does one deal with being labeled the spawn of men and alien monsters?
She did her best to write it off as ignorant superstition. She locked the name Cthulhu in a dark drawer in her mind and tried to thr
ow away the key. There had to be some rare, medical condition that had caused her uniqueness. Nothing else explained her ability to breathe in both air and water.
Something brushed against her arm. Fear surged her awareness back into the moment. She held her reflexes in check rather than escalate the situation, holding her ground as an enormous, translucent fish continued on its way. Kasey had been lucky this time. She flicked the side of her head. This was not the time for mental distractions. It could get her killed.
Focus.
Panning her light along the base of that artificial reef Kasey swept the sea floor with precision. She saw nothing to indicate that anyone had found and explored this area. There was no sign of any disturbance at all, until her misting beam struck upon a dark, rectangular form. The top of it was carpeted with algae. Excitement lightened her chest like a helium breath. As she knelt down to give it closer inspection she saw deep drag marks behind it. Her brows furrowed. The marks headed in a straight line a good fifteen feet from the planes. Something had tried to drag it away. But what?
She checked the perimeter again. A school of red fish veered away from her light. A good-sized shrimp ambled to her left. All clear. Her sweep revealed an outcropping of heavily barnacled rock no more than fifty feet ahead. Approximately twelve feet high. The water seemed murkier there. Her light couldn’t penetrate it, and as she stared a grim uneasiness aroused her distrust.
Definitely don’t like the feel of this. The box was aimed in that direction.
There was only one way to be sure it was the box she sought. Kasey knelt down beside it, taking hold of the knife on the left side of her belt. She saw no chains wrapped around it. Growth sprouting from its lid was two inches thick. She couldn’t risk prying it open down here, but scraping away a small patch of kelp revealed a unique section of design stamped into the crude metal. The box had almost become embedded in the ocean floor. She pried its corners free from sand and kelp. The instant she released it the box levitated in the water before her for a moment, and then shot with alarming velocity toward the rock formation.