A Magical Short Story

Dealing with Grief…Bethany’s Way

The wind tore at Bethany’s dress as she tried to use her free hand to keep it down. The other was busy trying to keep the pile of school books from escaping and landing in the wet grass that lined the sidewalk. The wind and the smell of decaying leaves had made it clear summer was dead, and the specter of winter was on the horizon. Really, none of it mattered to her now. The jean skirt whipped out of her hand throwing her off balance, but strong arms held her in place. She looked up into the kind, scraggly bearded face of her brother.

A Magical Short Story

“Thanks!” she said, and he smiled in return.

Her brother had been the friend she had always wanted, the man who set the standards for her boyfriends. He had always treated her with respect and pushed her to do more. Everything from driving a car to martial arts.

Turning the corner, she saw her house, a duplex that looked dreary with the dead tree and brown grass in the yard. Halloween decorations lay about in a pathetic attempt to decorate but the long black ribbon the porch pillar caused her heart to sag.

Why did it have to happen to them? It was so hard on her mother. Pushing the loud, creaking door open, she struggled in and shed her backpack and books on the old, wooden floor by the boots. The house smelled of spices and a trash can that was soon needing to be emptied. Bethany found her mother sitting at the half table with a pile of ancient books in front of her.

‘Oh, no. Not now.’ Bethany moaned as she sat down at the table as expected and her brother hopped up on the counter to watch.

“What the hell is this?” Teresa demanded. Her eyes were angry but haunted. She shoved one of the large books in front of her. The faded letters jumped out, “Spells and incantations of the 12th century.”

“Research,” Bethany lied but glanced at her brother who gave her a raised eyebrow of admonishment.

“Bethany, I can’t…I can’t deal with this. I’ve already called your teacher, and he said the reading assignment is Christopher Columbus. I’ve found all these horrible books under your bed.”

A Magical Short Story“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Those were the only words that came to her as the woman seemed to wilt and die inside. So, much had happened and her family was worried she would never recover.Ben laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder, and she sighed looking up.

“I know this is a hard time for you, Beth. It’s a hard time for all of us but these books…I can’t believe you went and got these books. How is that supposed to help?”

“I just can’t accept it, Mom,” Bethany confessed. “I can’t go on like this.”


A Magical Short Story


“But magic? It’s all crap. There is nothing that can bring your brother back to life. He was dead as soon as that drunk driver hit him. He’s never coming back.”

A Magical Short Story

Bethany looked over to her brother who gave her a comforting smile and wrapped his arms around his mother who couldn’t feel it. Her mom breathed a bit easier.

“It’s okay, Mom. I don’t’ need them anymore. Everything will be fine now.”

Jonathan Snyder is a writer from Kentucky. He spends most of his time writing articles and stories for the world. He has a passion for the written word and loves to spin characters and ideas into full fledge works. If you want to hear more from Jonathan about Bethany or his other characters, stay tuned.


A Magical Short Story

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