Ma’s Prayers

Ma’s prayers always worked.

Now, I don’t mean that she’s the next Virgin Mary or Jesus Christ. If she prayed to move mountains, those mountains would stay right where they were. When I was diagnosed with a brain tumor at the age of four, she prayed for God to take it away. He never did, but He did help with the pain.

Ma was raised Southern Baptist, and, by their standards, she was no Saint. She didn’t give a flying fuck over how short someone’s skirt or shorts were, or rather or not you could see a girl’s bra through her shit. She gave me the talk when I was six, right after I asked her where babies come from. She read her Bible every day, but she would always critique the pastor’s sermons when we left church on Sundays (we went to a non-denominational church my whole childhood, and I would go back to the services whenever I would visit her as an adult).

She didn’t idolize people the way that I did. In fact, the one sure-fire way she would admire people is if they were willing to give the shirt off their backs for others in need. Taking and giving, giving and taking, that’s how the world worked in my ma’s eyes. Perhaps that’s why her prayers always worked: because they were simple, direct, and full of giving.

After all, the things that I remember from my earlier years are the simple ones.

Ma would pray for food when we were running low on cash because she had to stay home and take care of me and Pa’s job wasn’t enough to support us at times. He worked with money all day, but there never seemed to be enough given to us.

She would clasp her hands together, sometimes in tears and always behind cracked bedroom doors, and pray that we would have enough food to last us for the week. Then, as if by some miracle, a neighbor would stop by with leftovers that she was going to throw out or the Church would be giving away donations of food or the school that Elle went to would send home weekend meals for any students who needed it.

Ma always accepted the donations with thanks and as much grace as she could muster. She was never too proud to turn down whatever we needed.

It wasn’t long before I started wondering if the gift had passed onto me.

When I was seven, I started praying beyond what Ma and Pa and the people at Church told me to pray.

I prayed for selfish things at first: a new doll I had seen on a commercial on TV, more DVDS (especially Scooby Doo and Barbie ones) to keep me entertained during all the times I was too sick to do anything else but watch movies, and more stuffed animals than I could fit into my room.

I would clasp my hands together tightly, like I had seen my ma do, sit on the edge of my bed, and pray. I would wait a long, strenuous week between each prayer, constantly looking for signs that God had listened to what I was trying to tell him. When nothing showed up, I started trying to bargain with him.

“Please, oh, please God,” the last of my prayers during this time would start out. “Please give me this. If you do, I will be the happiest girl in the world, and I will love you forever. I promise.”

I prayed like this for a full two months before I finally gave up. I started having doubts if God could hear me at all. He could surely hear Ma, so why not me?

The time I stopped praying regularly was when Ma started praying several times a day, like she always did at the start of November.

First, it was to make sure that we had enough food for Thanksgiving, which we always managed to somehow get. Christmas was a big one: presents, food, making sure we had enough money for heating, rather or not we could afford gas to visit family or if our family would be able to visit us, and the list only went on.

Like a broken record played on a loop, the start of December came around. I heard Ma crying behind closed doors nearly every day.

But it was still the holidays, and we tried to make the most of it.

This holiday season had been the first time I was allowed to decorate the tree with her because I was finally old enough for her to trust me to not break the ornaments. It was also the first time that I saw the nest.

Ma was the one who moved the ornaments away, and I saw the box that was slightly bigger than all the other ones immediately. I picked it up, and Ma smiled when she saw me holding it.

“That’s a family tradition, you know,” she had said as she took the box out of my hands and opened it. She pulled out a regular nest made of twigs braided together from it. She handed it to me, and I took it. It felt heavy and warm in my hand.

There, inside of the nest, lay three golden eggs. I reached in and tried to grab one, but they were glued down to the twigs.

“Oh no, you can’t remove them. If you do, then they lose all their power.”

“What power?” I asked her.

A hint of a smile spread across her face. “The power for your wishes to come true,” she said.

“Any wish?”

She nodded. “You can wish on the nest, and, if you believe, then the wishes will come true.”

“Do you wish on the nest, Ma?”

“I used to, but, one time, I made a wish that didn’t come true. I guess I didn’t have as much belief as I should have had, but it was enough for me to stop wishing.”

“Did you use up all of your wishes?”

“Oh no. At least, I don’t think so. You get an unlimited number of wishes.”

“An unlimited amount.”

“Yes, but, be careful now. Don’t abuse your power. After all, God is more powerful than anything else, so you should pray to Him before all of your wishes. Don’t ever forget to think God for everything He gives you, no matter what form he chooses to present it to you.”

I nodded, and Ma patted me on the back.

I turned to face the tree and found a branch that seemed strong enough to support the little nest. I tucked it into there until I could only see bits of the brown twigs through the green pines.

That night, as I lay tucked into bed, I said a prayer thanking God that he had given my family that nest.

The next day, I woke up with one of those headaches that made it hurt to even open my eyes. I was already crying by the time Ma came in to tell me that breakfast was ready.

“Oh, is it one of the bed ones?” She asked, and all I could do was nod.

She rubbed my shoulder before she dropped her hand, and I heard her opening a cabinet door. The sounds of the pills clinking against the jar rattled through my brain and made me cry harder.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know,” she murmured and wrapped her hand around my arms. She pulled it down to her and opened my palm, where she placed the pills inside.

I brought my hand up and put the pills in my mouth. She gave me a glass of water, and I swallowed the lump of pills back.

“You just rest now, okay?”

I nodded, but the movement made me feel like I was banging my head against the wall. I gave out a whimper before I slid further down into the bed.

I heard Ma going about her routine: fixing the curtains to make sure no sunlight would get through, moving away the bottle of pills, and then finally shutting the door as she left.

Why me, God? Why me? I thought as I tried to make my breaths steady.

In the hallways, I heard Ma mumbling her prayers, but I couldn’t make out any of the words.

The Christmas season arrived with the days still feeling like Autumn.

When I felt well enough, I would sneak outside and lay out in the sun. I told Ma was doing my schoolwork out there, but I would spend five minutes rushing through my work and then spend a couple hours laying out there. It was warm and comforting.

“They’re saying it’s going to be an unusually warm winter,” Ma and Pa would say to each other whenever one of them remarked about the weather, which was usually followed by “Well, it certainly seems to be coming true.”

When Elle and I woke up on Christmas morning, we squealed upon finding five presents for each of us instead of our usual three: a church outfit and a new pair of shoes each, but the other three were toys.

“Santa knew that you two had been good this year.”

I got two stuffed animals: a Mama bear and a baby bear, and a doll with blonde curly hair. She had the same hair as me whenever I didn’t have to get it shaved off for surgeries.

Elle and I spent the rest of the day playing with our new toys. We only took breaks to greet another family member or friend whenever one stopped by.

Then, as the sky grew darker outside of the living room windows, Ma had to drag me away from the toys by saying, “If you don’t go to sleep, you’ll get one of your headaches again.”

I started getting one of my headaches the evening before Elle had to return to school from winter break, but I knew it was only because I didn’t want her to leave.

I wish it would finally snow, I thought. So, then there could be a snow day and she could stay home.

Please God, I closed my eyes and whispered, starting the prayer. Pulsating, golden dots formed against the shadows of my closed eyes. It was like God was trying to show me the eggs in the nest.

I got up and went to the Christmas tree, making sure not to run so my headache wouldn’t get worse.

The nest was tucked into the branch, right where Ma and me had put it last. I brought it out and held it in my palms. The branches scratched my skin, but the nest felt warm.

I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please, let there be a snow day tomorrow.”

“Annie, Annie, wake up, my sister yelled, waking me up as she grabbed onto my shoulders and started shaking me back and forth.

“What?” I mumbled, instinctively checking to see if there were any pains in my head. None that I could feel, but it was cold. When Annie saw that my eyes were open, she let me go. I wrapped a blanket around myself.

“Annie, get up! It’s snowing!”

That statement was all it took for me to get out of bed and rush to the window.

There, I watched as heavy clumps of snow fell from a light gray sky. The flakes dulled the streetlights, which allowed them to cast a soft, candle-like glow on the white roads.

Ahead, in our neighbor’s yard, I could follow the impressions of pawprints left by their dog. Our yard, though, was clean and pristine. Some of the snow even sparkled, like it had glitter in it.

I turned to face my sister with a sudden realization.

“No school?”

“Snow day!” She said and started jumping up and down. I grabbed onto her hands and jumped with her.

When we settled back down, my sister said, “They’re saying it’s not supposed to stop all day. They might even cancel school tomorrow!”

I clapped my hands together and said, “Let’s go get our dolls.”

We raced each other to the kitchen, where Ma told us to slow down. Elle did as she became distracted by the pancakes that Ma was cooking.

“Here, Annie, eat up,” she said and put some pancakes on a plate.

I started walking towards her when I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that I had forgotten to do something. In the corner of my eye, I saw the green bristles of the Christmas tree.

I ran over to it.

“Annie?” Ma called out.

“I’m coming back,” I said before I reached out and grabbed the nest. It was right where I had put it last.

“Thank you,” I whispered to it and then returned it to its home among the branches.

Elle was right; it snowed all day.

Two feet, the news was saying, and they expected for us to get up to three.

We took a bottle of pop outside and stuck it into the snow to see how deep it would go. It fell until we couldn’t see it anymore, and Ma took a picture of the hole it left behind.

Even Pa had to stay home. He wasn’t too happy about that at first, until his work called and said that everyone who was staying home because of the bad weather would still get paid today. Then, he started acting like he was on vacation.

“I don’t think we’ve had a storm like this since I was around your all’s ages,” Ma said to Elle and me.

“Can we go play outside?” Elle asked her, and Ma nodded.

“But, Annie, dear, if you start getting a headache, I want you to come inside right at that moment. Don’t try pushing it or anything.”

“Will do, Ma,” I said and grabbed my coat to join Elle, who was already making her way out of the door.

“We should build a snowman,” Elle said. I nodded.

She got on her knees right where she was standing and started forming the bottom half of the snowman. I sat down across from her and did the same.

We clumped snow together until our hands started to freeze through our cotton gloves.

Elle and I stared at our finished snowman: just snow clumped together. It didn’t look like the three perfect, round-sphered snowmen I had seen on cartoons.

“It needs decorations,” Elle said.

“Like sticks for arms,” I added.

“And something for the eyes.”

“I’m on it,” we said at the same time, which caused us to erupt into giggles.

I went over to the one large tree we had in our front yard. Its branches were curved and struggled to hold up the snow that had built upon it.

I lifted my hands up to one of the thinner branches. This one will be easier to break off, I thought. My fingers were just about to wrap around it when I heard screaming coming from the house.

“Goddamnit!” Pa yelled out. Ma said something, but her voice was muffled. And then, someone hit something that sounded like metal.

Elle and I met each other’s gaze. She was near the bottom of the driveway, looking for pebbles.

And then, the door opened. We broke our gazes away from each other to stare at it.

Ma appeared at the doorway, and she was holding a frayed blanket, her knuckles white from gripping onto it, around her shoulders.

“Girls, come in,” she said. “The heater broke just now, and we don’t want the cold air getting into the house.”

Ma didn’t have to tell us twice; Elle and I hurried into the house, leaving our snowman without his decorations behind us.

We all sort of expected that the heat would magically turn back on, like the electricity does a day after the storm. When night arrived and the heat still wasn’t on, Ma and Pa’s frowns lingered until they never left.

Ma and Pa decided that we would sleep in their room that night to keep warm.

“This was how your great grandma used to sleep before they even knew what a heater was,” Ma told Elle and me. “Let’s pretend like we’re back living in those times, just for tonight.”

“Really?” Elle asked, and Ma nodded.

Elle squealed and then ran to Ma and Pa’s room. Ma looked at me, waiting for my response.

“I’ll be right there; I just want to grab something.”

Ma gave a faint smile that touched at the corners of her lips and said, “Okay.”

As she walked towards the bedroom, I went to the Christmas tree.

I grabbed the nest from its branches and whispered to it. “Please, let the heater start working again.”

I was about to return the nest to the tree, the twigs touching the branches, when an idea came to me.

I brought the nest closer to my chest and walked over to the heater, where I placed it on the cold appliance.

Something woke me up that night.

At first, I thought it was just Pa snoring. He was, but the sound itself was muffled and echoed. It wasn’t in the same room as me.

I sat up in the bed, and, when I did, the heat wrapped around me. It was like being outside before a summer thunderstorm.

That was when I noticed that the blankets were sticking to me by my own sweat. I peeled them off and started to make my way towards the end of the bed, where I could slip off unnoticed.

Someone grabbed my arm. I stopped.

My gaze traveled from Ma’s hand, up her arm, to her face. Her expression was blank, and her mouth was nothing more than a shadow when she opened it. “I heard the noises too,” she whispered. “I’ll go with you.”

Ma and me slipped off the bed and traveled down the hallway. We held each other’s hands all the while, not speaking. The shadows played against the walls. Each time we walked through as darker spot, I grabbed onto Ma’s hand tighter.

The sound was difficult to describe. It was like a smoke detector going off, but the “beeps” were elongated. At the same time, it was muffled, like someone was holding a towel over it.

Ma and I turned around the corner. When we saw the heater, we stopped in our tracks.

The nest was right where I had put it, but bits of the golden eggs flaked around it and the eggs themselves were cracked open.

When Ma took a step forward, I followed her, peering into the nest.

Three spindles of eel-like creatures twirled inside of the nest. Their gray tails occasionally flipped up onto the surface before sinking back down to tangle with others. Their bodies glimmered and – what was the word? – iridescent. Their mucus-covered tendrils caused bile to build in the back of my throat.

I started to cry.

“Sssh, it’s okay,” Ma said while rubbing my shoulder. Her gaze remained fixed ahead on the nest, but, when I looked up at her, I saw that she was crying too.

“There’s no need to cry,” she told me. “It’s a gift from God, and all of God’s creations are beautiful.”

“It’s horrible,” I mumbled.

“Ssh, we mustn’t question God’s gifts.” She sighed. “After all, where would the world be if the Virgin Mary questioned her gift?”

She didn’t wait for my response, and I could only watch as she let go of my shoulder to walk forward.

Ma knelt by the nest with her hands held together in the form I had seen from half-closed doors so many times before.

Hot tendrils started to crawl up the back of my head.

“Oh, gracious God, thank you for present us with this gift –“

I pressed my fingers into my temples and tried to massage the pain away.

“-and for fixing the heater.“

The burning lines went up my head and started pulsating at the back of my eyes.

“Now, could you please show me –“

I crawled down to the floor and pressed my head against it. Usually, it was cool, but the heater had warmed it.

“-how best to use the gift you have given my family?”

I cried out as the pain started to make white spots dance across my vision.

“Ahmen.”

My cries turned into whimpers.

I felt Ma beside me before I opened my eyes to see her. She rubbed my shoulder and her lips quivered, like she was about to start crying again, while she looked at me.

“Oh, honey, is it one of your bad ones?” She asked, and all I could do was nod.

She stayed there for a second longer, rubbing my shoulder, before her face dropped and she left. I started crying harder when I couldn’t see her anymore.

But then, she appeared right beside of me once more. In her hands, was the nest.

“The Lord has answered my prayers,” she said, and her voice was strained.

The world was pulsating around me in strange, golden lights. I had to close my eyes to keep the nausea from rising into my mouth.

“I prayed that He would give me something to rid you of your pain, and He has! Oh, bless His name!”

I felt something cold and slimy fall onto my skin. I tried to scream, but only whimpers came from my mouth. I pushed myself away, but Ma grabbed onto my arms and legs and brought me back.

“Sshh, it’s okay. This will help.”

As she said those words, I felt the creatures latch onto my skin. My heart raced before it slowed down. With it, the pulsating pain receded until it was nothing more than a gentle pressure at the back of my neck.

I could only smile as the creatures’ tails rhythmically flapped against my skin. It was the same rhythm Ma used to rub my shoulders.

Ma’s prayers always did work.

***

Caitlyn Pace is a horror and dark fiction writer, and she occasionally dabbles in other genres. She resides in West Virginia, where she is often inspired by the folklore and ghost stories surrounding her state and the Appalachian region. Keep updated with her through her Twitter: @CaitlynPace02, Instagram: @caitlyn_pace02, or TikTok: @caitlyn_pace.