April 16, 2025
I was standing in my kitchen when I heard a knock and, to my surprise, my old schoolfriend Megan opened the door. We hadnt spoken in about a year, yet shed called me out of the blue and asked me to drop by. Megan was never the delicate sort; she was always a bit roundbodied and never let that bother her. Shed married the man she loved, had a son, and never known real hardship. But the woman before me now was gaunt, eyes rimmed with dark circles, and looked as if shed been through a storm.
How many kilos have you shed? I asked, trying to hide my astonishment.
Twenty already, she replied, gesturing toward the hallway. Its still dropping. Think Im happy about it? Thats why I called you.
If you dont know whats causing it, you should have called Dr. Victor, not me, I said, halfjoking.
Megan poured tea and stared at me, her face heavy with sorrow. Ive had all the tests. Everythings normal. Nothing showed up. Do you remember that story you told me about your university mate, Ellie? What happened to her? The doctors found nothing there either, right?
Yes, I remember, I said, trying to recall. It was a strange case, but you never believed it at the time.
Back then I didnt believe anything beyond the material. Now I dont know what to trust and what not, she whispered.
Tell me, I prompted, eager to hear the truth behind her thin frame.
It started six months ago, she began, I was in the kitchen, chopping cucumber for a salad, when time seemed to freeze. I kept slicing and the cucumber never ran out. You know Im not one for the supernatural, or at least I wasnt.
I smiled, the usual lover of oddities, and leaned back.
Before I could make sense of it, the doorbell rang, snapping me out of the stupor. I looked through the peephole nobody. I thought perhaps the lads were playing a prank. I opened the door to find a small parcel on the doorstep. I nudged it aside, but something inside urged me to peek inside.
I watched as she lifted the lid to reveal an old wooden crucifix, weathered but unmistakably ancient.
Seeing my silent question, Megan reassured me. Its genuine, Im sure of it. My uncle Peter runs an antique shop in York; he confirmed it. He even offered a decent sum for it, but I refused.
I was taken aback. Megan had never been a churchgoer.
I remembered my grandmothers tale about a miracle crucifix by a holy spring. Supposedly it would appear at the spring, be taken to a chapel three times, and then return to the spring on its own. I figured, if this relic chose me, Id keep it.
Extraordinary, I said, genuinely impressed. Ive never heard of a relic picking its own owner in modern times.
Megans eyes dimmed. A week later things went wrong. First, my cat Whiskers, a healthy kitten with all his vaccinations, vanished one morning after chasing a toy mouse. We buried him in the pet cemetery. The day after, my mother called from the accident unit shed slipped on a flat surface and broken her leg. I called my husband to pick her up, only to learn hed been let go from his job and offered a much lowerpaid position instead.
I frowned. Do you think the crucifix brought all this misfortune?
Everyone kept telling me that, but I shrugged it off. When they suggested I get rid of it, I thought they were jealous of my treasure.
Did it really just appear under the door? I asked. Thats what wed call a coverup, isnt it?
Megan hesitated. Can you even make a coverup with a crucifix? It bears the image of the Heavenly Queen herself.
Perhaps thats what we need to find out, I mused. But first, what happened next?
She sighed. My son fell ill and spent a month in the hospital. I threw myself into work, ran errands to and from the store, cooking meals for the ward. My husband found a new job, but his salary was half of what it had been. When we finally got Vasily home, he was recovering, thank God, but the weight kept falling off me. I started losing weight faster than I ever imagined. It reminded me of Ellies case doctors found nothing.
Tell me the story about Ellie again, I urged.
She nodded. Before our final year project, my friend Tina, her cousin Ellie, and I planned a picnic. Each of us had a boyfriend. The lads agreed, on the condition wed camp by a river. On the way we lost the path and ended up deep in a thicket. Ellie was the first to sprint ahead and found a silk scarf hanging on a branch. She tied it around her neck, and instantly the trail reappeared, leading us back to the river.
Was it just a scarf? Tina had laughed.
Should we have taken someone elses? Tina had warned. Who knows where it came from?
Ellie brushed it off. Someone mustve dropped it. Its pretty, Ill keep it.
We rested, fished, swam, cooked fish stew, sang by the fire, and drank a little wine. The next morning we packed up, but Ellie was pale, her head throbbing. Kostya, her boyfriend, helped carry her the last stretch home.
Soon Ellie grew gaunt, failed her exams, and was forced to drop out. Doctors ran tests, found nothing. I remembered my motherinlaws story about a woman named Eleanor who treated ailments no doctor could cure. I asked her for the scarf; she gave it to me. I took it to the small village of Ridgefield, a short train ride away, to see Eleanor, an old healer reputed to work miracles when conventional medicine gave up.
Eleanor examined the scarf, looked at Ellies photograph, and said, Its a coverup. The sickness isnt physical but energetic. The scarf transferred the disease to the wearer. Burn it, bury the ashes under a tree, and drink the herbal brew Ill prepare.
She instructed us to burn the scarf, scatter the ashes beyond the garden fence, and give Ellie a tea made from wild herbs. As soon as Ellie drank it, colour returned to her cheeks. She recovered, left the hospital, and later we all visited Eleanors funeral, as she had passed away just before we could return. At the service we met her daughter, Mary, a nun who had kept the crucifix in holy water, prayed over it, and arranged for it to be placed in a nearby church.
Megan followed that advice. The relic was moved to St. Georges Church, and, as if a weight had lifted, all the calamities stopped. She regained her health, grew plump again, and within months gave birth to a baby girl she named Rosie.
Looking back, I realise how easily I dismissed the line between the material and the unseen. Whether it was a stray scarf or an ancient crucifix, the belief we place in objects can shape our reality. Ive learned that sometimes the best remedy is to listen, to respect the stories we inherit, and to act with humility when the world feels inexplicably out of sync.
Lesson learned: never underestimate the power of a humble story, for it may hold the key to untangling the knots life ties around us.
