My Aunt Kept A Secret From Me (And That Bitch Deserves The Death Penalty)
She swept the knife across her skin, like she’d done it hundreds of times before. Like she was used to seeing blood.
Two hours after we’d arrived at our town’s annual fair, I was already out of coins. My aunt had one left, so I slunk into a chair next to her and watched her try to land a plastic frog onto a foam lily pad.
“I think you’re actually going to do it,” I said, jealousy clawing through my stomach and up my throat. I knew she could hear it in my voice, but I didn’t give a damn. I’d tried that game five times in a row and couldn’t land one frog, but she only needed to hit one more and she’d be a winner.
When it happened, she clasped a hand over her mouth. I’d won a few games when I was younger and received a temporary potion to talk to animals or a one-time room cleaning spell, but I’d never seen my aunt win in the ten years I’d been living with her.
“You’ve got good aim, lady. And you’re pretty too,” the man in the booth said with a wink. “Let me see what I have for you.”
After rummaging through the drawers, he handed her a bunch of placemats, all rolled up and rubber banded together. “Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas,” he said. “They’re all labeled. Just cut your palm open, write the year you want to travel to in your own blood, and poof! It’s a mental thing, of course. You won’t be physically traveling there, so there’s no chance of you changing the future.”
He spoke about slicing a hand open like it was as normal as taking a piss in the morning, but I didn’t have time to judge his rich ass. I was too busy looking up at my aunt, tears glinting on the corners of my eyes with an unspoken question.
She gave a tightlipped smile and nodded, like I knew she would.
