Her mother warned her.
Sharon was fifteen when Tracey sat her down and explained her power. The Curse, she called it, passed down in her family from mother to daughter for hundreds of years.
“You’ll have it now. Be careful of your thoughts when you touch someone or something,” Tracey warned. “Whatever you wish for, when you touch it, will happen.”
Her mother looked away, eyes wet, jaw trembling.
She cleared her throat and wiped her hand across her eyes. “Pay attention,” she said, and touched Bunchy, Sharon’s favourite cat. “Be small.”
Instantly, Bunchy shrank to the size of her thumbnail. She scooped Bunchy up before the cat could scoot away, touched it and said, “Be normal.” Immediately, Bunchy became his normal size. But the terrified cat ran away, and Sharon never saw him again.
“It’s not a game or a weapon,” Tracey warned. “You’ll be better off if you never use it at all.”
But Sharon did. She shrank the chocolate cake her mother baked and waited until she was at school before returning it to its normal size. It didn’t taste quite right, but her school friends didn’t notice.
She shrank all of her toys when Tracey hinted at donating some to the local charity drive. Tracey guilted her into resizing and donating them — except for her Barbie, which she kept hidden and resized whenever she was feeling lonely.
Then she met and married Mark. Touching him wasn’t a problem in the early years. She was madly in love, and every thought was of how wonderful he was.
Then Lilly came. She could still feel the tug of Lilly’s lips on her nipples, of her tiny hand wrapped around her finger, of the warmth of her tiny body cradled in her arms. She still had every macaroni decorated can, every crayon artwork. She’d added to this collection every report card, every sports ribbon. Last year, she’d added prom pictures: Lilly and her then-beau, glowing and beautiful.
And this year? Lilly added rebellion. Hurtful comments. Sneaking cigarettes and trying to hide the smell with air freshener. Staying out past curfew.
Never once did Sharon think about making Lilly less than she was.
Mark changed, too.
“I’m working late. Don’t wait up.” She’d lost count of the number of times he’d used that excuse.
“Should you eat all that?” he started asking at every meal.
“Can’t you dress better?” became his regular refrain.
“Not tonight, hon. I’m tired. Tough day at the office,” became the last thing he said to her each night.
She couldn’t stop herself from wishing him harm.
If he were tiny, I could step on him. Crush him into nothingness.
The idea, and the impulse, so horrified her that she stopped touching him. But the rage she felt just grew. And grew.
The smaller he made her feel, the more she wanted to turn him into a bug.
She lessened her rage by attacking inanimate objects. She touched Mark’s favourite watch and said, “Disappear”, all while picturing his face.
She gathered all his college trophies and work accolades into a pile on the bed and made them disappear, too.
He didn’t notice any of it.
She awoke in the middle of the night, disturbed when Mark snuck into bed beside her, reeking of another woman’s perfume.
She reached toward him, the thought forming that if she just made him as tiny as an ant, the hurt would lessen.
Stung by the thought, she jerked back, rolled over, feigned sleep, and wondered how her life had come to this.
Lilly was fifteen now, and Sharon knew it was time to educate her daughter about The Curse. She tried.
She retrieved Lilly’s hamster, Hammie, from the terrarium. “Watch this,” she told Lilly. She meant to say, “Be small,” but just then, Hammie peed on her hand, and her rage at Mark, at life, bubbled over. “Disappear,” she commanded, and Hammie ceased to exist.
Lilly looked everywhere for Hammie but never found him. Sharon didn’t have the heart to explain.
I can’t tell her while I’m this angry. What if I accidentally brush against her while I’m venting about something else? I’ll get my anger under control and then tell her.
Sharon tried. But Mark continued to fuel her rage.
If I don’t speak to him, avoid being in the same space as him, sleep in the guest room, then he can’t keep making me angry.
Mark noticed but just grunted and ignored her. And that just enraged Sharon further. Three months passed, and she never told Lilly the truth.
The tension in the house bleached all the colour from her life.
This morning, Lilly came home from school with a vacant, glassy look in her eye. Sharon knew the signs, and her suspicions were confirmed when Lilly grabbed all the potato chip bags from the pantry.
“Lilly, you’ve been doing drugs. How could you?” Sharon stood in her daughter’s path. “We’ve shown you how they affect your brain.”
“I don’t do drugs,” Lilly said. “You’re always on my case.” She reached out to push her mother away, “I wish you’d just …”
Sharon jumped out of reach, her heart pounding, adrenaline pumping.
“…go away and leave me alone.”
That was too close. When she found her breath, she called after her daughter’s retreating form. “Come back here. I have something important to tell you, Lilly.” But her daughter disappeared into her room.
I should have told her. I have to tell her now.
No, not now. Later. When she’s not stoned.
That night, Mark left his phone on the counter when he went to bed. Sharon saw it when she got up for a glass of water. She picked it up and said, “reveal your messages.” A string of emails scrolled across the screen. Messages between Mark and her friend, Jane, caught her eye.
“Have you told her yet?”
“Tomorrow. I promise.”
“I’m not sharing you with her. If you don’t tell her, we’re done.”
Her knees gave out. She sank to the floor and wept. Now it all made sense.
“Mark doesn’t deserve you,” Jane told her over and over again for the past year. “You should divorce him. You’re better off without him.”
Rage bubbled back to the surface.
She marched into his room, to his bed, hand held out. Die asshole. Her hand hovered an inch from his head.
She backed away, hand shaking. She wasn’t a murderer.
She watched him sleeping, a smile on his face. For Jane?
She leaned in and touched his arm. “Be impotent,” she spat.
See how much you like him now, Jane, you Judas.
But it wasn’t enough. The urge to make him disappear hammered at her resolve. She had to get out of the house before she did something she couldn’t reverse. She dressed, drove to work and finished her current project in the quiet of the empty office. She tossed it on Jake’s desk just as her coworkers started arriving. Jake grunted at her as he passed her in his doorway. She nearly snarled at him but held her tongue.
At the water cooler, Vince held court. He did less work than she did, but received endless praise — and the promotion that should have been hers.
“Shar,” he called. “You need to hear this. It might help you.” He beckoned her colleagues closer. “I’ve found this app that trains me to be more productive on less sleep.” He pointed at Sharon. “It will help you get your stats up.”
My stats! You asshole. They’re better than yours will ever be.
Not that Jake noticed.
Seething, she leaned over and touched Vince’s arm. “You talk too much, Vince, and say nothing useful,” she whispered. “Talk less. Much less.”
She walked away, laughing quietly as he sputtered without sound.
An hour later, Jake came into her office, waving her report. “Took you long enough, Sharon. I expect you to work harder.”
She bristled. “Took me long enough! That report wasn’t due until next week!”
“Vince would have had it done in half the time. Try being more like him.”
Blood raced through her veins as her heart beat faster. She wrapped her arms around her middle, containing them. “I produce more work and better quality than Vince ever has. This office would fall apart without me.”
He pointed his stubby finger in her face. “Watch yourself. Or we might just find out if that’s true.”
Her eyes narrowed. She grabbed his finger. “You are a small man, Jake. You deserve to be small. Shrink to the size of an ant.”
He did. She scooped him up and put him in her empty cup. She didn’t want anyone stepping on him until she decided how she could torment him further, before she returned him to his normal size.
Maybe not normal. Maybe I’ll make you shorter, so you have to look up to everyone.
Or maybe I’ll leave you this size. To match your puny brain.
She snatched her report and marched it back to his office, tossing it on his desk. She sat down, touched his computer and ordered it to open his email folder. Then she typed an email to herself, copied HR, praised all the work she’d done, and promoted herself to Senior Analyst. It wouldn’t hold. The minute she resized him, he’d find it and cancel the promotion. But right now, it felt good to be appreciated, even if she was the only one doing it.
When she got back to her desk, her cup was gone. She looked everywhere. Where was it? Where was Jake?
Her friend Sally sauntered in and placed her cup back on her desk. “There was a bug in the bottom, kiddo,” she said. “An ant or something. I rinsed it out for you, washed that nasty thing down the sink.” She blew a kiss and sailed out of the office.
Sharon sank into her chair. She laughed, then cupped her hand over her mouth to stop.
You’re evil. If Jake is dead because you shrunk him, you’re a murderer!
No. I didn’t murder him. It was an accident. I was going to resize him.
If you hadn’t shrunk him, he’d still be alive.
Maybe he survived. Maybe he was able to climb out of the sink.
She raced to the copy room to check. He wasn’t in the sink, trying to climb out. She peered down the drain. She whispered into it. “Jake, are you in there?”
No sound. No Jake climbing out.
She scanned the breakroom and focused on a discarded straw. She shoved it through the drain hole. “If you’re there, Jake, use this to climb out.”
She waited. She watched the minute hand jerk its way around the clock face, tick, tick, tick. Staff came in, chatting, grabbing coffee, then disappearing back down the hallway.
She got up, checked the sink. Still no Jake.
Waited some more. She swept discarded stir sticks into the garbage bin, wiped coffee stains from the counter and emptied and cleaned the urn before making a new pot.
Tick, tick, tick.
Jake never climbed out of the drain.
She sank to the floor, head dizzy, stomach churning. She grabbed the garbage bin and hurled into it in violent, gasping waves.
She really was a murderer.
She sank back against the cupboards, panting. She couldn’t stay here. She was sick. She was crazy!
Someone would notice. Vince. His wife. “Jake didn’t come home last night, officer. That’s not like him.”
And she was the last person seen talking to him.
She rushed from the office, past a still sputtering Vince.
She braked. She couldn’t erase the evil she’d done to Jake. But she could fix Vince. She touched his arm, leaned in and whispered, “Talk normally now, but no more bragging and no more lies.”
At home, she found Mark pouring coffee. “There you are,” he said, not looking up. “You know, you’re never here when I need you. I had to make my own coffee. Where’d you go? Scarfing donuts at Krispy Kreme again?”
She clasped her hands behind her back and inched past him to the fridge.
“Figures,” he said, eyeing her critically as he leaned against the sink, sipping his drink. “You’ve turned into a fat cow who’d rather be anywhere but near me.” He slapped his cup down, coffee sloshing over the edges. “Well, you’d better stay here and listen, because I have something important to tell you.”
She tried to ignore him. She really did. But the look in his eye, full of condescension and pity, inflamed her. She marched to him and slapped his face.
“I already know about you and Jane. My friend? You had to screw around with my friend? I don’t know which of you I hate the most.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” he growled, grabbing her hand in a bruising grip. “By both of us. I’m serving divorce papers and taking custody of Lilly. Shouldn’t be hard to prove what a miserable mess you’ve become, unfit to raise our daughter.”
She didn’t think. Didn’t try to get out of his grip. She let the rage boil over.
“You are a small man, Mark. And you’ll regret threatening me. I’ll never let you take Lilly.”
Just die, you bastard.
God, no!
“Be small, Mark. Be very small.” He shrank. She laughed, picked him off the floor and plunked him into a jar.
“I’ll go and get Jane, shrink her, too, and the two of you can be very happy together in a mason jar.”
No, not the mason jar. The terrarium in Lilly’s room. Her daughter hadn’t used it since Hammie disappeared. She could add doll furniture. The two of them would have their own tiny house.
Perfect. The two of you can live there happily. Or maybe not. But you’ll be alive. I won’t be a murderer, but you won’t divorce me and take my daughter, either.
Lilly gasped. Sharon whirled around.
“You shrank dad!” Lilly’s eyes were huge. “Why did you do that?” She backed away, terror etched on her face.
“Lilly, I can explain.” She reached her daughter and pulled her resisting body in for a hug. “I can explain.”
Lilly pushed against her mother’s arms, eyes wide, tears flowing. “You shrank dad. I saw you.”
“Lilly. Please. Let me explain.”
“I hate you. I wish you’d be small, too. See how you like it.”
Sharon tried to step away, but she was too late.
“Oh, my God!” Lilly’s voice boomed out, hurting her ears. “I did it. I made you tiny.” Lilly sank to the floor, as Sharon scrambled out of the way.
“Lilly, listen to me,” Sharon shouted.
“This is so cool.” Lilly picked up her mother, grabbed the mason jar, and dropped Sharon inside. “I didn’t believe Granny, but she was right.”
Sharon and Mark shouted and pounded on the glass, but Lilly just frowned.
“All you two do is argue,” she said. “I’m sick of it.”
Carrying the jar into her bedroom, she dug out her terrarium. She deposited both parents into it and set it on her bookshelf. “Now you can argue as much as you like, and I won’t have to listen anymore.”
“Lilly,” Sharon screamed. “You can reverse this. Just touch us and wish for us to be normal.”
Lilly opened the dresser’s bottom drawer and moved her clothes aside.
“She can’t hear us,” Sharon said, shoulders slumping. “We’re too tiny and so are our voices.”
“This is your fault, you stupid woman.” Mark shoved her away.
“My fault?” Sharon rounded on him. “You’re the lying, cheating scum who wanted to take my daughter away.”
The fighting continued. Lilly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. She opened her computer and Zoom called her grandmother.
“You were right, Granny. I can make things small.”
“What did you do, Lilly?” Terri asked.
Lilly shrugged and took a drag. “Mom shrank Dad. So I shrank her.” She looked at the terrarium. Her parents were still fighting.
“Sweetheart. You have to reverse that.”
“Oh, I know, Granny. I will. Once they stop fighting. I promise.”
Meanwhile, she knew where Dad kept his credit card. She and Amazon were about to get a lot better acquainted.
The End
© Deborah Sarty. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced without permission.
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