Roll the Bones (sample)

The group of friends ate and drank and poked at the logs slowly disintegrating in the campfire. Their eyelids became heavy with fatigue and contentment. Evelyn’s beanie-covered head rested against Sid’s shoulder and her contributions to the conversation quieted to the occasional murmur. One by one, they began to leave the ring of warmth and slide into their chilly tents, shivering as they burrowed themselves down into their sleeping bags. Before he stood up, Paul asked Claire if she was ok by herself, or if she wanted company. She smiled wearily and thanked him, but said she was fine.

Once she was alone, Claire dragged her chair closer and stared into the fire as the last heavy log started to crumble into bright orange pieces. The sounds from other campsites had quieted as other campers grew sleepy and turned off their music, and conversations became more pauses than words. As the flames shrank, the tall trees surrounding the campsite seemed to lean in, looming overhead. Frogs peeped in the darkness, and the fire popped and crackled.

Now alone, Claire put one earbud in her ear and shuffled her “Chill” playlist. The first heavy piano notes of Radiohead’s “Pyramid Song” began playing and immediately reminded her of when she and Lily played the CD as kids, back when people actually bought physical music. The album was called Amnesiac, and the cover art was black and red, with a line drawing of a forlorn creature crying. What child could possibly understand the depth of loss that was possible?

There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

Where was Lily now? Gone forever? Floating on a cloud somewhere? Sitting next to her like a forest nymph, watching her listen to this song? Claire wondered what it would have been like to sit with her sister at this campsite, share a whiskey sour, share friends, tell stories of when they were kids, and have that forever bond that siblings do. Her lower lip began to tremble. A sorrowful undercurrent she hadn’t sensed this weekend, the bookend to this happy time away with friends, rose to the surface. She felt guilty for being happy, for having fun, for leaving her painful memories behind her, even for just a few days. It was time Lily never got, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

You should be here, she thought bitterly. Hot tears slid down her cheeks, and she tilted her head to wipe them on her shoulder. She glanced at the tents behind her, which were dark and still. She pressed her mouth into the arm of her sweatshirt, already permeated with smoke, and let the first sob bubble up. The sad piano chords and reverberating strings continued, and Claire watched a hot ember float up into the air. Her sight was smeary with tears, and her shoulders heaved with more silent sobs, but without thinking she reached out and caught the ember with her mind, keeping it away from the forest and her friends’ tents.

She held the ember aloft, and a passing breeze made it flicker and glow brighter. Her heart was breaking all over again. There was nothing she could do. Lily was gone, gone, gone. Claire tilted her head back and drew a shaky breath, trying to quiet herself, staring through the hole in the treetops. The stars peered down at her, long dead, already gone, but as visible as ever.

There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

Claire looked back into the dying fire and let her mind slowly unfocus, dilate like a pupil in darkness. Her eyelids drooped, and she turned her hands up, palms facing the sky, and willed her heart to open. Let this darkness out. Let this hurt out. You have no power here. Another spark rose from the fire and danced around the first, and then another. The passing breezes fed and starved them, the light growing brighter and softer. Soon a ribbon of fire fluttered and twisted in the thermals rising from the glowing log below. Hundreds of embers separated from the cinders and swirled around each other like a murmuration of starlings.

With a start, Claire saw her sister among the sparks that were turning and spinning in front of her. The embers sprayed apart into the shape of Lily’s silhouette, like a constellation, and then fell back together, curling tightly after each other, and then once again spiraling apart to show Lily’s smiling face. Her long hair flowed from shimmering tongues of flame, then her laughing eyes, the way she would throw her head back and guffaw, holding her belly. It was like a home movie writ in fire. With each flicker and shuffle between images, the little tornado of sparks touched down and pulled more heat and particles from the fire pit up into the air. Lily laughing again. Lily leaning in close, looking intent as she demonstrated how to apply mascara without clumping. Claire could almost read her lips: Don’t blink, you’ll mess it up! Lily in braids and footie pajamas, running down the stairs toward the Christmas tree, looking briefly over her shoulder and shrieking that Santa had come.

It felt true, that these beautiful memories would burn her if she touched them, and would set the trees on fire if she let them go. This would be as close as she could get. Her breath had become calm and even, and though her tear-streaked cheeks still shone in the light, she’d stopped crying. She was not bending with her mind, not trying to control the embers. This was her heart.

Resisting the urge to grasp, to cling, to beg for more time, Claire watched passively as the sparks began to dim and drift back down into the fire pit, settling one by one among the ashes. The music in her ear faded, and then cut. Trees once again loomed overhead, seeming to close in more tightly as the fire’s circle of light shrunk. She heard the peeper frogs chirp again and felt tired.

“Claire?” Sid’s voice was soft, but it still startled her. Of course he would have heard her using her powers. She felt guilty for waking him, and turned toward his tent to apologize and assure him she was about to turn in. But his tent was unzipped, empty. Turning a bit further, she saw that Sid, Paul, Noah, and Evelyn had crept out of their tents and were sitting behind her, awestruck.

She sat in the stillness, blinking at them, her eyelashes still wet with tears. Their faces were barely discernible in the quickly fading orange glow. After a long pause, Evelyn said gently, “Who is she?”

“Her name was Lily.”