“Come with me, Rachel.”

Deborah had the drawn look on her face that Rachel recognized from when her father had passed away. She crossed the small room of their house and stood by her mother’s side, full of concern.

“What is it? What has happened?”

Deborah took her by the hand and led her outside.

“I must show you something. It is in the woods. Come with me.”

As they walked together, Deborah knew that this might be the last day she would spend with her daughter. She clasped Rachel’s hand firmly and swung it gently as they walked, as girls do in childhood. What would she have done without Rachel?

“You must know something I had hoped to keep from you,” she began. “Many weeks ago, when the gypsies were camped on the Highway, I wandered into their camp and purchased something from them. It was foolish. We can’t afford such things. But, I bought something as a present for you… there have been so few nice things in your life… I wanted you to have something nice…”

“I don’t want nice things, Ma. I don’t care about that,” Rachel interrupted.

“Well. I bought it. And took it home with me. You were still working in the fields, that day. But, when I got home, I knew something was wrong. Oh why did I ever listen to that boy?” Deborah interrupted herself, throwing her arms up to clutch her forehead. Rachel had seldom seen her mother so distressed.

Deborah stopped walking and stood silently with her eyes lowered to the ground for a moment before continuing.

“I brought it home. But then I couldn’t turn away from it. It was so small, a little glass vessel, pink colored glass. And I couldn’t step away and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And it spoke to me. It had a voice, daughter. The vessel had a voice. Perhaps a spirit possesses it. It spoke aloud to me. I was so frightened I couldn’t move! Then I picked it up and threw it out of the house but it kept calling me. I tried to break it. But it wouldn’t break. It kept calling me and I couldn’t stand to hear it anymore. So I ran with it into the woods and buried it deep.” She pointed to the ground. “I buried it here. But I can still hear the voice in my head. I hear it in my dreams. It calls me still. I fear it will never stop until I do as it says.”

Rachel’s eyes were wide. With difficulty, she found her voice, and asked her mother cautiously, “what does it say to you?”

Deborah met her gaze sorrowfully. “It demands a sacrifice. Whoever possesses it, has forfeited their blood, and must die.”

She sighed resignedly. “And so, I must leave you, Rachel.”