The Consequences of a Smile

The year was 2003 and the night was full of people getting ready for New Year’s Eve celebrations. Everyone was looking forward to 2004, except Amara. 2003 seemed to be a pretty big year in terms of various cultural phenomena and events. The United States and its allies initiated the Iraq invasion, leading to Saddam Hussein's downfall. The world grappled with the emergence of the SARS virus, better known to the world as, Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, a viral respiratory illness, that emerged as a global health threat, causing widespread concern and travel restrictions. The Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrated upon reentry into Earth's atmosphere on February 1, tragically leading to the loss of all seven astronauts on board. 

The year did bring some good things to Amara’s life. The third film in the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King," was released, receiving critical acclaim and winning multiple Academy Awards. The reality TV show "The Simple Life," starring Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, premiered, becoming a cultural phenomenon. 

So, it was no surprise that in 2004, that on New Years Eve Amara felt uncertain. In 2003, she worked, crocheted, and played with her cats due to the SARS outbreak.   The SARS outbreak had caused her not to want to go outside. In many cultures, it is an unwritten social rule to cover your mouth with your hand or a tissue when you cough or sneeze in public. This practice is considered polite and hygienic to prevent illness spread. This sounds easy enough, except for if you have tussaphobia, which is a fear of coughing. Amara goes out her way to avoid coughing and it gives her a major panic attack if faced with the prospect that she might cough or be around people who cough. It’s better just to stay at home.

But tonight, Amara has decided to venture. Tussaphobia be damned.  Rowan, with her infectious laughter and boundless optimism, had grown increasingly worried about Amara's isolation. She knew that her friend had missed out on so much in the past year.

"Amara, you can't spend another year cooped up like this," Rowan declared one crisp December morning, her determination unwavering. "We need to welcome 2004 with open arms, together."

Amara sighed, her anxiety bubbling to the surface. "Rowan, you know I'm terrified of coughing. With SARS out there, it's just not safe."

Rowan placed a reassuring hand on Amara's shoulder. "I understand your fears, but you can't let them control your life. Besides, 2003 is almost over, and we need to believe that 2004 will be better. We deserve it."

With some coaxing and a lot of encouragement, Rowan finally persuaded Amara to venture out for New Year's Eve. She assured her friend that they would take every precaution to stay safe.

As the sun dipped below the horizon on that chilly December 31st evening, Amara and Rowan dressed up for the special occasion. Amara wore a beautiful, deep blue dress that she had bought long before her phobia had taken hold. She felt a glimmer of her old self as she looked in the mirror.

Once upon a time Amara was a friendly and outgoing person who was known for her warm smile and generous spirit. She had always been deeply connected to the people in her community and loved attending the town's get together. More so around Halloween, but the spectacle at the cemetery on New Years in Salem, Massachusetts was a close second. 

Together, they made their way to the New Year's Eve celebration in Salem, Massachusetts, where the night air, was crisp and filled with an air of mystique as Rowan and Amara made their way towards the cemetery. This tradition had been passed down through generations in the town. The objective was to find the grave of someone who had passed away in the past year or on New Year's Eve itself.

The age-old New Year's Eve ritual in Salem, held a deep and mystical significance for the townsfolk. Beyond the surface, it carried the belief that the act of sitting on the grave of someone who had passed away that year or on New Year's Eve itself held the power to transcend the boundaries between the living and the departed, offering a chance at redemption and renewal.

For the person who had departed, this ritual was believed to hold the key to finding solace and release to the departed soul, acting as a bridge to the afterlife. It was said that if a soul found itself in purgatory, the incantation and the presence of the living would act as a bridge to the afterlife. By reciting sacred words and sitting on the grave, the living aimed to give the departed a final chance to let go of burdens and journey to heaven.

For the living, sitting on the grave during this profound moment was believed to usher in abundance and joy for the upcoming year.  Sitting on the grave during this moment ushered in abundance and joy for the upcoming year, as it forged a bond with the spiritual realm. Salem's residents practiced sacred words for months, ensuring flawless pronunciation, a social norm they embraced with reverence. Incorrect utterance disrupted the world's balance, and the consequences were dire. Amara hadn't practiced since she heard about SARS.

As Rowan and Anara walked around greeting people and finding a grave, Amara found herself drawn to the grave of Eleanor Phillip whose tombstone read: “In Loving Memory of Eleanor Phillips 1797-1803.” Then as was customary there was a piece of paper stuck to the gravestone to tell more about her. This was custom, because the bond was stronger if you felt a real connection to who you picked. 

Amara picked up the paper for Eleanor and it read: 

“In Loving Memory of Eleanor Phillips 1797 – 1803”

Daughter of Salem, Forever Remembered

Though Unmarried, She Was Far from Alone

Taken by Tuberculosis at the Age of 32

Her Spirit Soars Free, Unburdened

In Life, Misunderstood; In Death, We Honor Her

May She Rest in Peace, Far from the Shadows of Accusation

Dearly Missed, Fondly Remembered"

Amara took this as a sign. She was 32 and felt completely misunderstood by everyone giving her grief over her SARS phobia, but as Amara looked over at Eleanor’s grave, she thought isn’t tuberculosis a respiratory condition too and she died at the same age. It seemed like a sign.

As the night fell, and the moon cast an eerie glow over the cemetery, the townspeople gathered around the graves, lanterns in hand. Amara stood with her friend Rowan, both of them holding the parchment that bore the sacred words. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation.

The time had come. Amara, her voice trembling with excitement and a hint of anxiety, began to recite the incantation. Rowan joined in, their voices intertwining in a harmonious chant. The words flowed like a river, weaving their way through the chilly night air.

As Amara sat on Eleanor Phillips' grave and recited the custom-designed saying,

"Under the moon's soft, guiding light,

We gather here on this sacred night.

To those who've passed, we bid adieu,

To find their path, we wish them through.

In the year ahead, may luck abound,

As old and new dreams are found.

With grace we honor those now past,

And pray their souls find peace at last.

By ancient rites and heartfelt pleas,

We bridge the worlds on bended knees.

May blessings flow in this new year,

As spirits rise and draw near."

But then, just as the incantation reached its crescendo, Amara faltered. She stumbled over a word, a well-deserved predicament to be in considering she didn’t practice at all. She thought no one had noticed, until, she heard the townspeople gasp in horror, for they knew the consequences of an error in this solemn ritual.

With heavy hearts, they knew that they had to pick someone from their midst—a sacrifice to uphold the sacred tradition. They had to choose one person who would bear the burden of their mistake, a person who would take on the collective guilt and ensure that the souls in purgatory found their way to peace.

In the eerie silence that followed, a chilling realization swept over the crowd. The social norm had been broken, and the weight of their ancestors' traditions hung heavy in the air. As they contemplated their choice, the moonlight seemed to cast long shadows over the cemetery, and the fate of Salem hung in the balance. They all looked to Amara for who would be chosen.

Amara's emotions swirled like a tempest within her as the realization of her mistake washed over her. At first, there was disbelief, a gnawing sense of denial that clung to her like a shadow. As the townspeople continued gaping at her in horror the weight of her error bore down upon her, disbelief gave way to profound sorrow. A sense of guilt engulfed her like a tidal wave, crashing against her heart. She had not only let herself down but had potentially brought misfortune upon the entire town.

Fear crept in next, the realization of the dire consequences of her mistake becoming all too real. The social norm in Salem was clear—someone must bear the burden for the broken tradition. The idea of choosing someone to bear that weight gnawed at her conscience. She knew that her actions had set in motion a chain of events that would lead to a painful and unjust outcome for one of her fellow townspeople.

Amid the fear and guilt, a sense of desperation emerged. Amara frantically searched for a solution, a way to undo her error or mitigate its consequences. She wanted to turn back time, to have another chance to recite the incantation correctly and spare the town from the grim fate they now faced.

In that eerie and somber moment, as the moon cast its chilling glow over the cemetery, Amara felt a heavy burden of responsibility weighing on her shoulders. She had to make a choice, one that would determine the course of the night and the fate of an innocent person.

Amara's heart weighed heavy as she turned to her dear friend Rowan, her voice trembling with the weight of her decision. In the dim moonlight of the cemetery, she spoke in a hushed, broken tone, "Rowan, I have chosen you."

Rowan's eyes widened with a mixture of shock and disbelief. The words hung in the air like a haunting echo, sinking deep into her soul. She couldn't comprehend what she had just heard. It was as if the world had stopped, and the gravity of Amara's choice enveloped them both.

Tears welled up in Amara's eyes as she continued, "I can't bear to see anyone else suffer for my mistake, Rowan. You're my dearest friend, and I couldn't live with myself if I chose another. Please, forgive me."

Rowan's initial shock gave way to a profound sadness, but also a sense of understanding. She knew Amara well enough to recognize the depth of her remorse. With tears in her own eyes, she whispered, "Amara, you don't have to do this. There must be another way."

The scene began to unfold with heartbreaking intensity among the townspeople. Rowan, desperation in her eyes, made a break for it, trying to escape the grim fate that awaited her. Her heart pounded with fear, and the adrenaline coursed through her veins as she sprinted through the cemetery. She could hear the townspeople's shouts, their voices urging her to stop, but she couldn't relent. She couldn't accept the unthinkable.

Amara, torn between her loyalty to her friend and the weight of tradition, hesitated for a moment. The townspeople, however, were resolute in their adherence to Salem's historical norms. They moved swiftly to cut off Rowan's escape and returned her to the somber assembly.

With tears streaming down her face, Rowan pleaded with Amara, her voice filled with anguish, "Amara, you know me! You know I would never betray you like this! You can't do this!"

Amara's eyes welled up with tears as she helped the townspeople secure Rowan to the stake. Her hands trembled with every knot tied, her heart heavy with the crushing weight of her choice. She refused to look into Rowan's eyes, unable to bear the pain and betrayal reflected in her friend's gaze.

Rowan's screams and protests filled the night air, her voice echoing through the cemetery. She cried out to Amara, her voice cracking with despair, "Please, Amara, reconsider! Don't let them do this to me! We can find another way, I promise!"

But the townspeople, resolute in their belief that their traditions must be upheld, ignored Rowan's pleas. They had bound her to the stake, their faces solemn and determined, the weight of history pressing down upon them.

Amara, her eyes downcast, whispered through her tears, "I'm so sorry, Rowan. I never wanted any of this.”

Then with one last glance at Rowan, Amara took the matches that had been handed to her, slowly taking one out of them box, and with the burning match places it at the bottom of the stake where the ropes are attached and steps back to watch as her former best friend burns to save the rest of Salem. 

As the flames consumed the stake, and Rowan's agonizing screams filled the air, something inside Amara seemed to snap. In that horrifying moment, a chilling smile twisted across her face, a smile that sent shivers down the spines of those who witnessed it. It was a smile that did not belong to the Amara they had known, and it spoke of something darker, something unsettling.

The townspeople, who had initially believed that Amara's choice to sacrifice her friend was an act of remorse and selflessness, were now horrified by the twisted delight on her face as Rowan suffered. They exchanged uneasy glances, their initial approval and understanding turning to suspicion and dread.

As the flames grew higher and the sound of Rowan's screams became more unbearable, the atmosphere in the cemetery shifted. The collective conscience of the town seemed to awaken, and the realization of what they were witnessing hit them like a thunderbolt. Murmurs of unease and whispers of doubt spread through the crowd. They questioned the true nature of Amara's intentions and the authenticity of her remorse. The smile that lingered on her lips as her friend burned at the stake had cast a shadow of doubt over her actions. Amidst the chaos, some townspeople began to voice their concerns aloud. They wondered if they had been too hasty in their judgment, too quick to accept Amara's choice as noble. Accusations and anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. 

As the flames continued to dance and Rowan's cries grew weaker, Amara's smile remained, a haunting and enigmatic presence. The townspeople, once united in their adherence to tradition, now found themselves torn between the horror of what they had allowed and the unsettling transformation they had witnessed in Amara. In that moment of turmoil, Salem grappled not only with the consequences of its traditions but also with the chilling revelation that sometimes, darkness could lurk even in the hearts of those they thought they knew best.

As the eerie flames continued to lick the night sky, the townspeople, fueled by a growing sense of unease and anger, turned their collective gaze towards Amara. In that moment, she could feel their piercing stares like daggers. The looks in their eyes were no longer ones of understanding or acceptance; they were filled with a simmering fury that seemed to smolder in the darkness.

Amara's heart pounded with fear and regret as she realized the gravity of her actions. She understood that her sinister smile, which had unnerved the onlookers, was something she could not explain away. She opened her mouth, desperate to offer an explanation, to make amends for her behavior, but the people would hear none of it.

Their judgment was swift and harsh. With stern resolve, they seized Amara and led her to Ochoa, the oldest known witch in town, known for her ability to enact powerful curses and spells. Ochoa was okay with the townspeople because she mostly used her powers to help people. The townspeople believed that it was only through a supernatural intervention that they could make Amara pay for the consequences of her actions.

In the presence of Ochoa, Amara could feel an ancient, otherworldly energy enveloping her. The townspeople, still seething with anger, demanded retribution. They recounted her sinister smile and the betrayal they had witnessed, and they called upon Ochoa to cast a curse that would haunt Amara for the rest of her days.

Ochoa, her eyes filled with an eerie wisdom, chanted incantations that echoed through the night. She waved her gnarled hands over Amara, invoking the forces that lay beyond the understanding of the townspeople. In that moment, Amara felt a shiver run down her spine, as if the very fabric of reality had shifted. When she had finished, Ochoa turned to Amara and said your biggest fear has become a reality. 

The curse took hold swiftly. From that day forward, everywhere Amara went, people would cough in her face. It was as if the townspeople had collectively decided that she should experience the same fear and discomfort that she had caused Rowan in her final moments.

Amara's life became a torment, a relentless reminder of her actions. The townspeople, once united in their adherence to tradition, were now united in their determination to ensure that she paid a heavy price for her betrayal. And so, as the seasons turned, Amara learned the true meaning of the consequences of her choices, a fate that would follow her wherever she went, a constant reminder of her darkest hour in Salem.