60 Sec Fiction: MIRACLE

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On our way back from the hospital, I almost drove into the ditch when I saw light in the cottage next door. No one had lived in the derelict building for years. Who would want to? Before taking a look, I put Max to bed; it was only early evening, but his weekly chemo sessions exhausted him.

Knots formed in my stomach as I opened the squeaky gate outside the gloomy building. Our nearest neighbour was half a mile away, so whatever happened, I was on my own. I proceeded with small steps until I reached the dilapidated porch, and to my surprise, a handwritten note was pinned on the door.

Let yourself in.

I looked left, looked right, then turned the handle.

A bear hide at least twice my size occupied the centre of a mud floor, an armchair and a side table sitting on top. Across the room, dozens of animal bones hung on strings from the low ceiling. Streaks of smoke floated around the hazy space, and the smell of burned sage filled my nose.

‘Hello?’ I called.

Only silence, and the strong pulse in my temple.

To my right, an open fire radiated warmth and light into the room, casting living shadows of the artefacts onto the walls.

‘Hello?’ I called again, peering into the dark corners.

Still nothing. Then, my eyes rested on a candle by the armchair. Next to it, I found a steaming cup with another note.

For Max.

I picked up the clay mug, and a pungent smell wafted through the air. At this moment, the fire crackled and sputtered. A spark landed a few inches from me, and in contact with the floor turned into blackened charcoal. Adrenaline shot through me and I rushed out the door, the mug clasped in my hand.

Back home, I checked on Max. He was already awake, so I offered him the drink. What did we have to lose? He winced with each sip but finished it without asking any questions, then went straight back to sleep.

The next morning, I found Max playing football in the garden. I couldn’t remember the last time this had happened.

The following week, his brain scans were clear. ‘It’s a miracle,’ the doctor said to me in disbelief.

On our way home that day, I stopped the car outside the derelict cottage. ‘Wait for me,’ I said to Max, and walked towards the building. The front door was wide open, so I poked my head in. Empty. No bear hide, no hanging bones. A cold shiver swept through me at the thought this past week might only have been a dream, and I’d wake up to a dying son.

I got back to the car and sat quietly. Max didn’t say a word, but I could feel his eyes on me. ‘Dad,’ he said eventually, taking my hand, then gave me the healthiest of smiles.

♦

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