“Family Tradition” — FWG Flash Fiction for 3/22/2025
- Rob Johnson
- 7 days ago
- 2 min read
Sometimes the something mundane can hide the most profound.
The prompt is:
FAMILY TRADITION
Amy eyed the sky warily. “Looks like another storm coming. And there’s water in the boat.”
The two friends approached the water’s edge.
“Last night’s rain. Help me bail it out.”
The rowboat listed to one side, making Amy even more nervous.
“Tell me, again, where we’re going.”
Joanie threw the old wooden boat’s bailing bucket to Amy, while she unlashed the oars.
“We’re going to that little island right there.” She pointed to a tree-covered hummock of land poking through the lake surface just offshore. “Trust me, Miss I-want-to-be-an-archaeologist. You want to see what I found there.”
Shrugging, Amy set to work with the bucket.
A few minutes later, Joanie threw the anchor onto the little island and jumped ashore. Without another word, she disappeared into the trees. Amy quickly followed along the trail that Joanie had taken. A few steps brought her to a magically hidden clearing invisible from the shore. There, Joanie stood behind a stone slab several feet long, which rested on two standing stones covered with carved symbols.
“It’s an altar,” Amy whispered.
“That’s right. A very ancient altar.”
Amy stepped forward and ran her hand over the stone surface. “This is blood.”
“That’s correct,” came her grandmother’s voice as eleven other women stepped into the clearing. “Our coven has worshipped here for over a thousand years.”
Amy turned slowly, counting the familiar faces. “There’s only twelve of you. You’re one short.”
“Indeed. Your mother—”
“Died of cancer.” Amy looked at the blood-stained altar. “Right?”
Her grandmother hung her head. “Letting the cancer take her would have wasted her strength and power.” She laid a hand on Amy’s. “She wanted you to have it instead.”
Thinking back, all the lessons her Ma had taught her fell into place. Standing tall, she said, “I accept.”
THE END
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