Small Stones

Seven-year-old Madeline crouched at the water’s edge, her jelly sandals gathering sand at the toes as waves lapped over her feet. With one finger, she prodded the Lake Huron shoreline. She cupped her other hand upward, cradling a dozen small stones like an offering to the sun.

Burrowed in the sand were striking blue, red, and green rocks. Madeline clenched her fingers watertight, fearful of her treasures returning to the earth. She was particular with her selection and anguished over losing a perfect find to the great masses.

The Haven’s family cottage sat back from the shore, separated from the lake by a carpet of hot sand and dry, rigid grasses. On the porch, her mother and grandmother lounged on plastic Adirondack chairs, their occasional laughter cracking like thunder through the quiet beach. The closest neighbor resided several acres away, the private land between them untouched.

Madeline was confined to land without an adult nearby, but the frigid water did not entice her. Navigating the algae-slicked rocks to the sanded portion of the lake took caution and was even more arduous upon return when the wind nipped at her wet skin. She much preferred the solidness of the beach.

A rustle sounded from the adjacent woods, followed by the appearance of Madeline’s older brother, Dominic. He advanced toward her, opting to tread through the lake rather than on the sand. A swell of water cascaded outward as he landed a jump at her feet.

“Don’t!” Madeline cried, pouting at the dark stains on her favorite t-shirt. Dominic grinned, and her attention shifted to his hand closed in a fist. Forgoing her rock collection, she sprinted away from whatever reptile or insect he wished to bestow upon her.

“It’s just a rock, Madeline!” Dominic yelled. She stopped to face him. He waited, relaxed, gesturing for her to return. She narrowed her eyes.

“You swear?” she asked.

Dominic slowly opened his hand as if he was revealing a diamond necklace in a velvet box. Madeline approached cautiously; whatever nestled in his palm did not jump or squirm. She inched a few steps closer and came to a smooth, jade-green rock no larger than a ladybug. Madeline gasped. Even on an overcast day, the stone caught the light.

“Where did you find it?” she asked.

“A lady in the woods gave it to me,” Dominic said. Behind him, the lot of coniferous trees and underbrush did not show any activity.

“A lady?” Madeline asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “she gave it to me and told me a secret.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said, her mind making shapes out of the shadows in the woods.

“It’s fine, Mads,” Dominic said with a huff. “Do you want to know what she said or not?”

Madeline nodded tentatively, not wanting to make a fuss.

“She said this stone has powers,” he said. “All you have to do is put it in your ear and say the magic words.”

Madeline grimaced, brushing her fingertips over her ear lobes.

“Don’t worry,” Dominic said. “I did it already; it doesn’t hurt.” He turned to his profile; Madeline peered down the dark cavity but couldn’t see the end.

“Want to?” he asked.

Madeline hesitated but eventually tucked her hair behind her right ear, the promise too enticing to resist. Dominic rested the rock at the entrance of her ear canal, then plucked a twig from the ground to guide it. The twig scratched against her inner ear, sounding like the muffled static of the radio. Dominic moved slowly, but Madeline pulled away when the stone reached a stopping point, and a twinge of pain radiated to the other side of her skull.

“Almost done,” he said, holding Madeline still by the shoulders. He whispered an indecipherable incantation into her ear.

“When does the magic come?” she asked.

“Soon,” he said.

Madeline promised to keep their secret. She kissed her mother goodnight that evening and rested on the side of her open ear, muffling any sound in her bedroom.

“Madeline.”

She sat up, thinking the smoker-like rasp was her mother. An orange glow came through the slit under the closed door.

“In here, Madeline,” the voice said.

Madeline touched her ear. Was this the magic powers? The harsh-sounding voice unnerved her, quelling some of the excitement. Her muscles tensed as she waited for it again. A harmony of chirps and croaks trickled in from the open window.

“Madeline,” the voice said again. The evening light outlined the shapes of the furniture, but nothing unusual took cover in the corners. The mattress springs creaked as Madeline pushed back to the wall and tucked the worn quilt under her legs.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

A low groan emanated from the room. Madeline’s breathing turned shallow, and prickles of sweat gathered at her hairline.

“Who are you?” she said. The flitting of the lace curtains startled her, but it was only an effect of the wind.

“I am you, don’t you see, Madeline?” the voice said. “My thoughts are your thoughts now.” Madeline pressed her palms against her ears.

“I don’t think I like this,” she said. “I don’t feel good.”

“You can see what I see now,” the woman said.

Madeline’s head jerked up forcefully with her eyes pried open. She cried but could not budge. The wooden wall panels began to rot, infested with flitting insects, and the paint on the ceiling peeled and drifted down like snowflakes. A damp stench filled her nostrils. Madeline called out as best she could with a rigid jaw. The dark figure of a woman peered in from the collapsing floor and slowly jutted her head into the room. Wet skin slapped against the floor as she pulled herself through the small opening, her fingers long, tentacle-like extremities and her skin a dull gray.

“No!” Madeline cried. “Momma! Momma!”

The bedroom door swung open, and Madeline collapsed onto the bed.

Madeline unloaded her burden on her mother. In the brightly lit emergency room, she scrunched herself into the tightest shape she could muster. Still, the cold stare of the woman in the corner penetrated her fortress.

Dominic had to spend the following day inside but appeared content nonetheless. Neither child told their mother he had put a rock in his ear, too.

*

Towers of cardboard boxes lined the walls of thirty-year-old Dominic’s childhood bedroom. Madeline dropped the last overstuffed trash bag of linens to the ground; it toppled over with a soft crinkle. Dominic slumped onto the frameless bed with a heavy sigh.

“Back again,” Madeline said. Dominic grimaced.

“Yep,” he said, surveying the room, “back again.”

The same band posters he had tacked to the wall in high school peered down at them, judging their gawky conversation.

“It’s not so bad,” Madeline said, toying with a model car on the desk. “Mom’s cooking has gotten better.”

Dominic chuckled, but his demeanor didn’t budge.

“Well, I’ll let you unpack,” she said. “See you next week for dinner?” Dominic nodded, keeping his gaze at the floor.

Madeline’s mother knocked feverishly on her car window before she could depart.

“You’re joining us at the cottage next weekend, aren’t you?” she asked.

Madeline sighed. Her grandmother planned to sell the house up north; Madeline’s grandfather passed two years ago, and she needed the money for end-of-life expenses. As much as Madeline cherished her grandmother, even the thought of a long weekend with her extended family gave her hives.

“I know your brother would appreciate you being there,” her mom said.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll go,” she said, too exhausted from the move to procure a valid excuse.

Madeline cranked up her car’s air conditioning, regretting agreeing to drive Dominic the four hours to the lake house. She and her brother hadn’t conversed for longer than three minutes in years. After college, Dominic jetted off for Silicon Valley, striking a deal on a software program he and his roommate tinkered with between classes. He excelled for a period, but a short-sighted investment (his words) forced him to sell out and return home. Madeline prayed that his disposition had improved since the move; the cocktail of self-importance and self-pity had left her weary the last time.

“So, this weekend should be nice,” she said. Dominic scoffed.

“Yeah, maybe for you. I’m on my failure tour, and everyone is clambering for the front row.”

Madeline shifted in her seat.

“Uh, I think the family is just glad to see you,” she said. “It’s been a while, you know.”

“Not long enough,” he said, grimacing at the barren landscape on both sides of the highway.

“Oh, come on,” Madeline said. “I know you love a good trip up north.”

Dominic restrained a smile.

“It has its charms,” he said.

They were quiet for a moment, almost comfortable.

“We aren’t judging you, you know,” Madeline said. “All that other stuff isn’t important to us.”

“Of course it’s not,” he said. “You’re from the suburbs.”

“So are you,” she retorted.

“No, I know,” he said. “It’s just...suburban folk tend to be, well, complacent. It’s not like that in the city. People are pushing forward; you don’t have time to nurse your failings.”

“So, you’ll try to make your way back?” she said, shrugging off the backhanded insult.

“I will do anything to go back,” he said. “The success, Mads, it’s addicting.”

Madeline could always rely on the familiarity of her family’s lake house to comfort her. Her bedroom had the same dingy lace curtains on the lake-facing window, the worn yellow quilt, and the plush reading chair in the corner where her grandad would read her to sleep. She tossed her duffle bag onto the twin bed; dust particles dispersed in the air, illuminated by the mid-afternoon light.

Madeline emptied several childhood t-shirts from the old oak dresser, knowing she wouldn’t be back to retrieve them. She had no use for the now too-small clothing but couldn’t yet part with another childhood item. Her foundation of self was flaking away like dead skin, and the cottage would no longer be a retreat. She set out to uncover the remaining trinkets she had tucked away over the years, but a call from downstairs cut her short.

It was past Labor Day, but the weekend hovered near 70 degrees. A bite at the end of the wind’s tail was the only precursor to the coming winter. Madeline delighted in the weight of a blanket around her shoulders, an impossible comfort in Michigan’s summer humidity. The cool sand gave way as she walked along the water’s edge, her body’s weight more pronounced like altered gravity. The household was packing up, and Madeline wanted time alone before bidding the house farewell.

“Well, that was brutal,” Dominic said as Madeline pulled the sliding door shut. “If I have to answer one more question about my failed attempt at life, I’ll scream.”

Madeline made a pout.

“You didn’t fail at life,” she said. He shrugged.

“It sure feels like it. No job, no partner, no house: it’s pretty dire.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Madeline said with a grin.

“Shut up,” Dominic said. He drew a bottle of wine from a canvas tote bag. “One last glass before we go?”

Madeline shrugged and plopped down on the couch.

“I can’t believe gram is selling this place,” she said, taking in the kitschy beach decor for the last time. Dominic handed her a stemless glass and sat opposite the wicker coffee table.

“I know,” he said, “a lot of memories here. Mostly bad ones.” He chuckled solemnly.

Madeline perked up.

“Do you remember when you shoved a rock in my ear?”

Dominic groaned.

“Oh god, Mads. I don’t know what came over me that summer.”

Madeline threw a couch pillow at him, nearly knocking over the wine glass on the table.

“Well, thanks for the tinnitus,” she said.

Dominic dodged the projectile and grinned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “To be fair, I think I even convinced myself of some magic. Drinking all that lake water must’ve made me hallucinate.”

“You didn’t shove a rock in your ear, though,” she said.

“No,” he said. “No, I’m sure I didn’t.”

“Well, you’d know by now,” Madeline said. “In fact…” she started. She sprung to her feet and took the stairs two at a time. The clanging of wood drawers opening and closing sounded upstairs.

“Ah!” she yelled. She returned with the rock between her thumb and forefinger and pushed it into Dominic’s palm. He froze for a moment, but quickly regained his composure with a laugh.

“Imagine this tiny thing,” he said, lifting it to the light, “meant to show you all the wonders of the universe.” He set it on the table. “I always thought the hospital had kept it.”

“Wait,” Madeline said, “what do you mean by ‘wonders’?”

“The rock was supposed to give you magical visions,” he said. “Like, a good acid trip or something.” Madeline straightened.

“That’s not how I remember it,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“That night,” she said. “Donni, something horrible came over me. Something evil came from that rock.”

Dominic paused.

“So, I’m not making things up,” he said, “something happened that night?”

“The further away we’ve gotten from it, the more I convinced myself I’d made it up,” Madeline said. “But I remember. All I felt was agony.”

“One shall see, and the other shall suffer,” Dominic whispered.

“What?”

“The lady—the one who gave me the stones—that’s what she said. ‘One shall see, and the other shall suffer.’”

They silently concentrated on the small stone between them. Dominic’s features furrowed as if he were solving a puzzle.

“I should throw it in the lake,” Madeline said.

“No,” Dominic said, diving to pick it up, “let me do it.” He fixed his face into a smile. “I found them, after all.”

Madeline shrugged.

“I’ll go get the rest of my things packed.”

In the bedroom, Madeline meticulously re-folded her t-shirts before shoving them in with the rest of her things. She lingered in front of the bedroom window before departing, her heart heavy in saying goodbye. With its haphazard rock formations and sparse grasses like first day stubble, the empty beach could’ve been the same as ten years prior.

Madeline staggered when she turned around; Dominic was standing in the doorway. She tilted her head away to hide her tears.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready,” she said, hitching the various straps of her bags to her shoulders. Dominic hovered silently.

“What?” she said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Mads, I—I never removed that stone from my ear,” he said. Madeline guffawed.

“You’re kidding me.”

He shook his head, which he kept lowered to the floor, his long tresses falling over his eyes.

“Ever since that day...I’ve never been able to shake that feeling. I’ve been chasing it the whole time, thinking the other stone was lost,” he said. “But now...” He opened his palm, and the small stone glistened like a pearl in a pink shell.

“Donni…” Madeline said.

“Sorry, Mads,” he said, and before she could turn around, he swung the wine bottle at her head.

*

It was dark when Madeline awoke, and her hands tingled with a thousand pinpricks. She was wrist-bound to the hanger rod in the bedroom closet, her knees hovering just above the floor.

She jerked her arms down, but the wall-mounted studs didn’t budge.

“Donni!” she yelled. “Donni? Whatever this is, it isn’t funny!” She tugged at the binding, feeling the rope jut tighter and tighter into her skin.

“Dominic!” she screamed. Only silence answered.

Madeline swore under her breath. A dull pain radiated from where he struck her, and her shoulders spasmed from sustaining weight for several hours. She swallowed to rid some of the congestion in her right ear. No, she thought. She popped open her jaw twice, then spoke aloud.

“Oh, no,” she groaned. She squeezed her eyes tight to offset the quivering in her body.

“Please, no,” she whispered. The same fear response from childhood pricked under her skin. Then, a muffled thump sounded outside.

“Dominic?” Madeline called.

A chill bolted through her as if the temperature had plummeted thirty degrees. The closet door swung open.

“Donni?” she whispered.

“Madeline,” the voice said. The squelch of its footsteps drew closer, but Madeline diverted her eyes. Cold, clammy lips pressed against her ear.

“Look at me, Madeline.”

Madeline shook her head. The woman ran a finger in a crescent shape along her face, the rigged texture gliding clumsily.

“Look!” she shrieked.

A flood of light overpowered Madeline’s vision. A shower of warmth comforted her pimpled skin, and her hands were unbound, supported instead by the soft grittiness of sand. She blinked several times. Before her was the water’s edge, its soft peaks sparkling like diamond snowcaps. The cosmos illuminated in the sky like a planetarium. Madeline twisted around, her vision rendering slowly as if in a dream-like state. An older man rested in a chair to her right, his cap tilted down to shade his eyes.

“Granddad?” she said. The man looked up and nodded to her in greeting.

Madeline giggled. She was magic, high, illuminating. At once grounded and liberated.

At her other side, Dominic also kneeled at the shoreline, his eyes glassed over and body writhing in pain. His mouth was open in a scream, but it was not one she could hear. Madeline pushed her hands deeper into the sand to feel the cool dampness of the earth. She wanted to feel pain for him, but the sun was so warm and the water so inviting.

***

Cherie Stoll (she/her) is a writer and activist from Michigan.