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Chapter 1

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The night was black and moonless, but pitiless stars shone through the window. The only light was a single candle that he had lit in symbolic desperation. The lonesome, flickering flame was meant to be a combination of signal flare and source of energy for his ritual.

Historically, family and loved ones would put a candle in the window in order to help those who were away to find their way home. Joshua's mother hadn't been 'home' in days. She had slipped into a deep sleep as her illness progressed, and she hadn't woken up yet. She lay there in her bed, mouth hanging open, motionless but for the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. Maybe she could still manage to find her way back home.

 She was a devout Christian, but he was a Wiccan. There were plenty of other people praying to God for her, but Joshua was grimly determined to try other methods. The rituals he tried were varied; everything from health spells to summoning spirits.

So many people that he had met during his life had sad stories about their childhood. Their parents had been alcoholics or drug addicts, they had lost one of their parents when they were young, they came from an abusive household. Everyone seemed to have a shadow over their youth.

Joshua had no dark memories. He remembered his mother as a vibrant force of nature that had brought love and light to everyone she touched. She was like June Cleaver and Martha Stewart rolled into one amazing person. His father, too, had been loving and involved; teaching him to play baseball and how to ride a bike; teaching him more important things like religious and racial tolerance. Even though his parent had divorced when he was only ten years old, he still looked back on it as an almost idealistic childhood.

But life, and people, have a way of changing everything. 

In reality he was of a split mind on the current situation. On one hand he knew that she had not wanted to linger on at the end, putting strain on the emotions and resources of the people she loved. They had talked about this very thing many years before. On the other hand he was not ready to say goodbye to her yet, nor was anyone else.

But then there was that one thing she said. Two weeks ago, when she was still conscious and relatively lucid, she had spoken the words, "I don't want to die."

Joshua had been steeling himself to help her end her life. To put an end to her suffering as well as those who loved her. To follow through on what she had told him were her explicit wishes. To do what he himself would want others to do for him. 

"I don't want to die."

Those words had put an abrupt halt to his preparations. It was a moral morass that had him firmly entangled both mentally and emotionally. Were those words truly spoken, or had they been said in the instinctual human fight for survival? Did she really want to continue living, trapped in a hospital bed, not able to speak or move? Was she simply hoping that everything would magically go back to the way they had been before? Or did she really mean it?

It wsa too late to ask her now.

He bowed his head against her forehead, clutching her hand in his. He prayed to the god and goddess, as Wiccans do, for a sign. He visualized his life energy flowing into her, hoping that it might be enough to bring her around, at least for a little while, so that they could talk one last time.

"I love you mama," he said to her.

Envisioning a magic circle, he summoned the elements of Earth, Air, Fire and Water to seal the circle. He visualized the healing blue energies of Water flowing into her. He beseached the element of Air, aspect of intelect and thought, to bring her mind clarity and consciousness. He even made the silent offer to trade his own life for hers.

But to no avail.

She had a fentanyl patch, and was being given morphine for the pain, and anxiety medication to help ease her discomfort. He often read to her because he knew that she liked it. Visitors paraded in and out of her home; pastors and nurses, children and step-children, sisters and grandchildren, not to mention the endless procession of friends whom she had touched with love and kindness.

Unlike the movies, sometimes there is just nothing that can be done.

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