Aunt Sherry’s Inheritance

Laura wished she had an axe. The luscious weed monster loomed over her, her hand clippers inept and ludicrous against the beast taking over her yard. The new buds grew as she stood there, expanding fat and obscene in their bright, mossy green. She never should have opened that damn box.

2 days earlier

It sat on the table, still wrapped in shipping paper. Laura’s kids, Tommy, Alex and Holly were practically bouncing off the walls. “Do you think it’s pirate treasure, with coins, and gold chains?” Alex asked. 12 years old, he wore an Arsenal soccer jersey and black shorts, his knees red and blistered from scabs. Tommy, his twin brother, had the same hair, thin build and matching scabs, but wore a SF Giants jersey. “Swords and daggers?” He asked.

“You’ve been playing at the Sahara again!” Laura said, examining his torn flesh. “I told you that the park is too dangerous, it’s just rocks, dirt and broken glass!”

“How’d you know?” Tommy's mouth dropped open.

"I hope it has a magic ring." Holly examined her own 7 year old hands.

“Your Mom has magic powers.” Paul, Laura’s husband added.

“-It’s just a block away, and where else can we play soccer?” Alex confessed.

Magic, was that possible? Laura wondered what it would be like to have real powers, to turn her boring life upside down. She didn’t know how to get out of her shell. She lived in a neighborhood where no one spoke to her, and her kids, turning into teenagers, no longer wanted her around. She wished for magic in her life. With a wave of her wand she could make real change, solve the climate crisis, or fix the housing problems rampant in her city. She could rid the world of income inequality!

But really, she wished she could snap her fingers to do the laundry. God, she hated sorting, and then folding laundry; so many socks!

“That's dumb. “ Tommy said. “Magic doesn’t exist.” He picked at his knees.

“I don’t think there were any pirates on the Salt Lake!” Paul said. “Your Mom’s Aunt Sherry lived in Idaho, a professor of English before she lost her marbles.” Paul opened the brown paper package to disclose a heavy wooden box. “Her neighbors did say she was a witch though!”

“Did she leave this to you in her will Mom?”

“No. She just left us her house. But the construction workers found this buried in a wall. So, kind of an inheritance, I guess. Isn’t that strange?” Laura thought of heredity, and how mental illness is passed down through the family. Aunt Sherry famously had migraines, and recently Laura did too. Would she lose her own marbles?

Constructed from rough hewn wood, the box seemed to be handmade, the lacquered finish now pocked and worn. The patina on the distressed iron straps holding it together glowed a deep brown.

“Whoa- it looks old!” Alex said.

“How long do you think it was buried there?” Tommy asked.

“Like a thousand years!” Holly said.

Paul laughed. “Not quite. The house was built in the 70s, but she was the first owner.” The contractors working on the house said they found stuff everywhere.” Paul turned to them all.

“Now don’t expect too much. Aunt Shirley was a hoarder, her house was filled with junk, and old books. She had boxes of old black robes, and strange papers in old English runes.” Paul shook his head. “So just to say- this could just be a box of nails, or bottle caps.”

He held the box up in both hands. “ I can’t open it though…”

Laura traced her finger over it. "I think this is the top." Dan flipped the box over, and she bent closer. "Wait, there's a small gap here," she leaned in. “Let me try this-”

She stuck her pinky nail in the slot, and with a soft click it opened. As the lid lifted up, so did her eyebrows. “Oh my!”

Paul placed the box on the table and they all looked in. A golden glow emanated out of the piles of necklaces and jewelry inside.

“Dang, is that real gold?” Holly said.

“It is a pirate treasure!” Tommy shouted.

“Except-” Paul poked the collection of jewelry in the box. “I’m not sure any of this is real.” He dumped out the box.

With a clunk, and the faint smell of rotting wood, the pile landed on the kitchen table.

Several small, jeweled boxes clinked out, but most of the jewelry was in a large ball. Thick links of gold-plated chains intermixed with tarnished silver rings, a few with stones missing from their settings. Thin cable chains, kinked and knotted beyond repair, tangled with a yellowing strand of costume pearls that had lost their luster. Mother-of-pearl bangles, chipped at their iridescent edges, caught against black-striped silver bracelets. Heavy rings with gaudy colored stones, emerald green, ruby red, sapphire blue, curled inside of bent gold hoop earrings, all jumbled together in an unassailable knot.

Alex pulled out a gold-plated bracelet, tarnished with thick streaks of green. He put it on to hang loose over his thin wrist. “Cool!”

Tommy tried to pull out a thick gold chain, but it only locked further into the knotted bundle. “Oh I want this one! All my friends wear gold chains!”

The yanking of the ball loosened a thick cuff bracelet of polished silver. Ribbons of folded metal formed the shape of a flower on the side, and a huge iridescent turquoise stone sat in the middle.

“This one’s nice.” Laura said, moving it in the light. “It doesn’t look like it was ever worn.” Under the dining room chandelier, it pulsed with an internal glow.

Paul poked at the jumble pulling strands out. “This isn’t a box of nails, but it might not be worth much more. This's all just show jewelry, for costumes.”

The boys and Paul began to try to pull the chains and necklaces apart. Laura put on the beautiful cuff bracelet, it locked in place, and then her world flipped upside down.

*****

At Easy Money Pawn shop, Buddy looked through a monocle to examine Laura’s collection of necklaces, rings and bracelets. Incredibly fat, his huge black Metallica shirt bagged over faded jeans and Nike Air Jordans about to burst apart with every step.

“This is a strange collection, most is just crap, but some have value. I can give you a price, take it or leave it.” He looked up, still wearing the monocle, like a cyborg with a mechanical eye. “A couple hundred bucks for everything?”

“Can you open that box?” Laura pointed to the largest of the jeweled boxes. “We got the rest open, but that one…”

Fat fingers picked up the box, lifting it up to eye it through the monocle. “Hmm. There's a trick to it-”

It popped open. Shredded dried leaves and stems filled the inside.

“Is that tea?” Laura asked, crinkling her nose as she leaned in.

“You live a sheltered life.” Buddy took a sniff.” Man, that brings me back! That’s good old-fashioned dirt weed.”

He smirked at Laura’s blank look. “Mary Jane, reefer, grass, dope? That's the cheap stuff from Mexico, what we used to smoke in the 90's, just leaves and seeds. Marijuana!"

“-Oh my god! I didn’t know Aunt Sherry smoked marijuana!” Laura lurched away. “Do you want it?” Laura tried to push the box over. “ I don’t…”

Buddy’s belly rumbled with laughter. “Cannabis is legal! The stuff in the edibles I take are 10 times more potent than that!”

His eye caught her wrist, and he pointed at the bracelet. “Can I look at that?”

“I can’t actually get it off.“ Laura tugged at it again. “It's like it's attached to my wrist. Do you know anything about it?”

Buddy’s huge hands delicately encircled her wrist as he leaned over. “The latch might be stuck. I think it is Native American, from the southwest tribes of course with the turquoise, known as duklij by the Apache. That stone is unbelievable. Interested in selling it?”

Laura pulled her wrist back.

“I can offer-”

“-No !” A lighting bolt of fear she didn't understand shot through her. She couldn’t let this bracelet leave her possession. “I mean, I can't, it doesn't come off.”

“Are you sure?” Buddy said

Laura held the bracelet tight against her chest. “You can have the rest.”

He nodded. “OK. Probably fake anyway. Give me a few minutes.” He began sorting the items.

“I noticed your bracelet as you were speaking with Buddy.” A scratchy woman’s voice called out.

Laura turned to see a small old woman straight from a Renaissance Faire in a flowing orange and green dress. Her long gray hair was collected into a thick braid over one shoulder. Bright brown eyes peaked out from a face full of wrinkles.

“May I look at the bracelet?”

As she held Laura’s arm she spoke, her voice rattling. “I’m a collector of artifacts. Every week or so I stop by Buddy’s shop to see what turns up. I believe this is an ancient fertility bracelet.

“A what? Fertility!” Laura tried to pull her arm back but the woman held her in a vise grip.

“Wasted on me! I already have two boys and a girl so-”

The woman shook her head. “No. Fertility of the land, meaning agriculture and farming. This was created by a culture that tracked time by the turning of the seasons. This fertility stone,” she tapped the turquoise, "holds a powerful spirit to create robust and fruitful harvests for its people.”

“Do you know how I can get it off my arm?” Laura pulled at it. “It’s stuck? And of course I don’t have a crop to harvest. I go to Whole Foods!” Laura’s laugh died on her lips at the woman’s dark expression.

“It has chosen you.” The old woman intoned. “There are only two ways to be released from the spirit’s hold.”

“Only -two ways?” Laura’s voice caught.

“Number one, “ The woman’s eyes blazed with an internal fire and she spoke through a sideways smile, “is to participate in a sexual orgy with the farmers on the field-”

“-What!” Laura’s mouth dropped open, and she yanked her arm loose.

The old woman's face fell. “If you're not interested, then you don’t have to do that.” She frowned, disappointed.

“This amulet’s spirit wants, no needs, to create a harvest. The other option is to grow a crop to provide for your community. Large enough, the spirit will be satisfied and she will release you. The woman leaned in close and smiled. “And- maybe I could borrow it next spring?”

“Oh my goodness. I don’t know how to grow anything!”

The old woman shrugged. “Plant something, see what happens. The power will continue to grow until you give it a place to multiply. If not, it will grow inside you, and-”

She put her fingers to her head and then threw them out. “Boom!"

After getting home, Laura dumped Aunt Sherry’s collection of ‘dirt weed’ in the gutter in front of her house. She adjusted the cuff on her wrist. It felt good to wear it, it flowed with a vibrating power that made her lift her head up and feel alive. But that old woman was just nuts. Whoever heard of a fertility amulet!

She didn’t notice the new green leaves that had appeared on her pathetic rose bush.

The next morning Laura looked out her window to see red and blue lights blazing on her driveway.

She jerked awake and stepped outside. “What’s going on?” She pulled her robe tight against the cold, and wide-eyed stares of several neighbors.

The police officer pointed to an extremely large plant growing out of her gutter, and through cracks in her front yard.

“What is that?” The officer asked.

At Laura’s confused expression he answered his own question. “That is a class one drug. Why are you growing marijuana? Is it for personal use,? If so, you can have up to 6 plants, even if they’re giants.”

“It’s not for personal use!” Laura watched her neighbors all step closer, enjoying the spectacle. “I don’t-”

“Then it's for distribution, and I have to arrest you for unauthorized production-”

“No! I mean, personal use! Yes, it’s for personal use!” Laura shouted.

Ms. Gertrude, the crotchety old woman from across the street, gave her an evil eye as she went inside. Laura barely knew anyone in this quiet and reticent neighborhood, and now they all knew her as Ms. Mary Jane.

The officer nodded with a wink and left.

“How did it get there?” Paul asked on his way to work.

“I think I planted it, by accident! I found Aunt Sherry’s dirt weed, and …”

Her turquoise stone pulsed in a blue-green glow.

“You should probably deal with it.” Paul said as he drove off.

Easier said, then done. In the forty-eight hours since she’d slipped the cuff on her wrist, the curb, the flowerbeds, the gutter, even the cracks between her bathroom tiles, had sprouted a lush undergrowth. Her roses, never more than dead sticks with thorns, now bloomed with gorgeous red flowers each as big as cabbage heads. Laura spent the morning hacking at the Jack-and-the-Beanstalk-sized cannabis plants with her pruning shears. The thick green sap filled with THC dripping on her wrists probably contributed to the paranoia she felt at her new 'garden'.

The Nextdoor posts exploded by noon. Warnings of illegal drug cartels, questions about unsanctioned drug production, and the downfall of the neighborhood circled into a doom spiral of viral madness. Everyone hated Ms. Mary Jane. By the time Paul got home, the plants had started to flower, blooms popping out along the gutter like green fireworks. Laura sat on the porch steps, hands sticky with sap, surrounded by twelve Hefty bags full of raw bud.

“What the actual hell?” Paul sniffed the air. “I can get high from just breathing!” He stepped carefully through a maze of waist high plants. “Did you plant all this?”

“Yea, now I’m homesteading marijuana!” Laura snapped. She had so much green sap on her she looked like she might start sprouting leaves herself. “It just keeps growing. If I cut it, it grows. If I look away for five seconds…” She pointed at the kids bikes, now engulfed by a thicket. Each handlebar was festooned by dangling bud clusters like Christmas ornaments.

Paul whistled, low. “The bracelet?”

She flexed her wrist, the cuff now humming so hard she felt it in her teeth. Should she try the orgy in the field? It might be better than this. She wondered who the farmers would be.

“Well, you have a big harvest for the community.” Paul pointed. “You think that’s enough?”

She pulled at the amulet with no effect. “Not yet. Maybe because this isn’t my community.” Two tattooed young men with wide eyes and big grins picked up the hefty bags and threw them into the back of a 1970’s orange VW Bus. Laura tossed Paul the satchel of cash from the sale. “Don’t even think about it! We’re donating it all to the Food bank.”

She snapped her fingers. “But,” her smile brightened, “you gave me an idea!”

Laura spent the next day working out on the Sahara, scratching in the dry ground, and ripping seed packets. Did she need to make an incantation, or to say a magic spell? She whispered ‘bloom’, and then the sky opened up and a cool rain poured down.

By the next weekend, the old community park, once only dirt and gravel, teemed like a green jungle of fruit and vegetables. Laura posted signs. Doubt overwhelmed her, was she just a fool? No one would come.

Like forest animals coming out after a cold winter, grumpy old ladies, suspicious millennials clutching their phones like shields, and even a few curious teenagers made an appearance at the park.

Buddy, who turned out to be a neighbor showed up too, wearing most of Aunt Sherry’s gold-plated necklaces over his Iron Maiden shirt. “These chains are coming back!” He smiled at the crowd. “We needed a neighborhood picnic!”

Laura sidled up to him. “Who was that woman in your store?” She whispered. “She was able to explain the amulet to me, and its powers.”

“Barb?" Buddy laughed. “That lady’s bananas. She loves to make up stories about old jewelry. She doesn’t know a darn thing!”

“Also, I looked up the bracelet. It was popular in the 70’s, sold at Kmart. The latch, there’s a trick to it-” Buddy took Laura's arm and with a twist released the bracelet. “Here you go.”

Laura stared at the bracelet in her hand, now small and dull, before turning to the thriving garden and lawn. The neighbors, shy at first, were now swirling through the garden with smiles, sharing stories and recipes. Her kids led a raucous soccer game across the green lawn. Ms. Gertrude happened to be an excellent soccer goalie.

“This isn’t a fertility bracelet with magical powers. ” Laura said to Paul. “Aunt Sherry just collected costume jewelry. Somehow this is just me?”

Paul looked out into the new community blossoming in front of their eyes. The new connections grew as they stood there, joy expanding fat and beautiful among the bright, mossy green of the park.

“This is a magical power all right, to create a neighborhood where only barren dirt was before. But it is all in you. Your inheritance was not jewels; it’s the ability to believe in yourself. Look, you grew a whole community! You’re the fertility spirit, creating new life.” He turned to Laura.

“It almost makes me want to have an orgy in the corn maze?” Paul winked at Laura.

“I’m still not that kind of fertility goddess!”