The Death Chair

The Blackleach family is predominantly women, which is probably why everyone in town thought they were witches. Though, I suppose any highly intuitive, educated women who follow old family traditions would be accused of the same thing. It’s said that the men in the family all die young and that the women steal the men’s youth, but the truth is simply that they have terrible luck with the men they partner with. The men often end up leaving the women to raise their children alone or more unfortunately they end up having to flee from their abusive husbands. How ever the case may be, they are never truly alone, as the women have the support of their small, tight-knit family.

The family now consists of Joan, Claire and Hanson, the children of Angelica. Angelica and Thelma, the daughters of Claiborne. And Claiborne, the mother of Angelica and Thelma. Claiborne is now the eldest woman of the family, the only of whom is directly from England. She moved to the United States with her mother and aunts when she was only 10 years old. Tomorrow, the family will be celebrating Claiborne’s 86th birthday.

Like most of the Blackleach family celebrations, it will be ritualistic. The traditions of their family have been passed down from a couple dozen generations and no one ever thought to challenge it. That is, till Joan became old enough to question her family customs. She’d want to know when these customs started, why they started, who started them. “Do we have to do this part?” she’d whine. Joan has always been a smart little girl, full of questions and conspiracies, wanting to know the answers to everything in life. Unfortunately, curious little Joan changed after her 14th birthday. She became timid and now feared the answers to her many questions about life. She embodied anxiety from an unknown source.

The night before her grandmother’s celebration, Joan awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of footsteps above her in the attic. She was immediately met with anxiety because she knows what’s up there…

In the large, remodeled Victorian home, in the small attic is a single, wooden, rocking chair. The oak chair has been passed down from generation to generation. It, in fact, was one of very few things that Claiborne’s mother and aunts brought along with them from England. The chair appeared to be very basic, however, on the crest rail of the chair was the engraving of an owl with its wings spread. This antique rocking chair wasn’t placed in hiding because it couldn’t find its home in any other room of the house. It served a purpose, and that purpose was a seemingly lonely one. You see, the chair, harshly termed, The Death Chair, served as a sort of portal for the family to the next destination, the afterlife. Once a family member reached a point in their life and felt they were ready to pass, they would sit in the chair and take their last breath. This has gone on in the family for 300 years…

Joan decided to check the attic to be sure her Grandma Clai hadn’t snuck up there. She has been told stories about the importance of the chair and taught not to disturb the elders when it called their names, but she couldn’t help herself. She crept up the stairs on her tippy toes, praying she wouldn’t wake anyone up. When she looked up the wooden stairs she saw her grandmother, rocking and reading a book. “Grandma!” She whispered loudly, “What are you doing? Your birthday is tomorrow! Don’t you want to celebrate it?” Joan fearfully questioned. “Oh, my inquisitive Joanna, how I love you. Don’t tell anyone, okay?” Then suddenly with the blink of Joan’s eyes, her grandmother vanished, leaving her book behind. Joan cried and called out for her grandmother, but she was gone.

Joan’s eyes ripped open; her face covered in tears. She looked around her bedroom, noting that she was still in bed and realized it was only a dream. Nevertheless, this dream will be looming over Joan for the rest of the day, until it spills over into the waking world.

Joan went downstairs to greet her family for breakfast but was thrown into a spin when she didn’t see her grandmother at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Grandma Clai?” She asked anxiously.

“She’s out in the garden, dear.” Her mother responded.

Joan rushed to the window to see her grandmother sitting on the bench, with a book in her hand, peering out into the distance. The scene appeared to be foreshadowing her dream and she felt uneasy.

“Is there something wrong, Joan?” Her mother questioned.

Joan thought about it for a moment. She wanted to tell her mother about the dream she had but she didn’t want to upset her or ruin tonight’s celebration. She loved her grandmother and worried that if she spoke aloud what she was thinking, then it was sure to come true. Joan’s grandmother had always been an inspiration to her and a lot of times she felt as if she and her grandmother were the same in a lot of ways so losing her felt as if it meant losing a part of herself.

“No.” Is all she said in return. She continued to watch her grandmother through the window and wondered what her grandmother was thinking about and if it was what she thought...

She was, in fact, thinking the same thoughts as Joan. Claiborne stared into the distance, thinking about her life. She decided to write everything down, all the experiences that molded her into the person she is today. She recalled her life back in England when she was a child. The never-ending rainy days and running around in the field behind her school. Her time in England wasn’t what she wanted as a child. Her father being a controlling and abusive man made it hard for her to find comfort at home. She felt an overwhelming amount of anxiety as a child. She remembered, though, the beautiful day when her aunts showed up to take her and her mom away to live a more carefree life and soon Claiborne realized her anxiety was actually her intuition guiding her. Young Claiborne felt like she was in a fantasy world when she moved to the states. Her childhood from that point on was the most magical experience for her. Her aunts worked in the circus as acrobats and brought little Claiborne with them every day while her mother worked odd jobs. She loved the circus, the performers and the animals. She even performed in a couple shows. After she and her aunts left the world of circus, she got a job as a secretary for an editor’s office where she met a writer who she immediately fell in love with. They had two beautiful daughters and she’d never been more in love with her life. Unfortunately, before her children even truly knew their father, he left to pursure his dream of being a movie director. Claiborne spent years recovering from heartbreak. Thankfully, she had her mother, her aunts and her intuition to guide her. After recovering from her heartbreak, she decided to take her daughters and travel. They traveled all over the United States, Europe and Africa. Once her children grew into being their own person, she decided to dive deep into her own creativity. She became a well-known painter and even dabbled in writing, publishing her very own book. To say Miss Claiborne Blackleach led anything other than an adventurous life would be a lie.

Claiborne’s hands worked tirelessly as she wrote down every thought and lesson she could think of. Bouts of energy wrapped itself around her pen as she sat in the garden for hours. She knew she was almost ready, but not quite yet. She had to finish before the celebration...

The Blackleach birthday celebration consisted of mindful activities. It starts with anointing candles with homemade oils and fresh herbs from the garden. A candle for each year the person has been alive. However, instead of putting them on a birthday cake to be blown out all at the same time, each candle, all burning at once, is lit and blown out one at a time. Before each candle is blown out, the birthday person must explain how that year was for them, what they achieved, what they learned and their favorite memories. The family believed this to be an important part of a person’s birthday because it allowed them more room to evolve and as each year is reminisced upon, the last candle gets shorter, representing how precious time is and how quickly it can melt away if you focus too much on the past. After the candle ceremony, the birthday person will set their intentions for the year and the family will strategize ways that they can support them in their endeavors. Afterwards, they gather around the dinner table and share a 3-course meal, prepared by the whole family. Later, they play card games and tell stories about the special person of the day. It’s an all-day excursion filled with love and support for one another.

It was later in the afternoon now and although Joan was busy with finishing the preparations for the festivities, her anxieties grew with each passing minute.

“Joan, be a dear and go fetch your grandmother from the garden. It’s time to start the celebration!” Her mother exclaimed.

As Joan made her way to the garden, she noticed her grandmother writing in the book that she has had with her all day. Curious as she was, she decided not to ask.

“Grandma, we’re all ready for you. Mom is lighting the candles.”

Her grandmother nodded and smiled as she got up from the bench and wrapped her arm around Joan’s. They walked back into the house together, arm in arm. The house appeared warm and inviting as the 86 candles lit up the open dining room and kitchen area. Joan brought her grandmother over to the first candle and then stepped back. She felt like a fly on the wall as she watched her grandmother talk about each year of her life. Her siblings, mother and aunt cheered Claiborne on. As her grandmother reached the 86th candle, she paused and she smiled as the candle burned shorter and shorter and then she spoke, “This year has been simply wonderful. I’ve enjoyed sitting back and watching my grandchildren grow more and more into the people they will soon be. I’ve watched my daughters evolve and grow intellectually. I’m very blessed to have been a part of so many beautiful souls and I’m very thankful. I love you all. As for my intentions for the year, I hope that my next journey treats me as gently as you all have treated me”. Before Claiborne could blow out her last candle, it flickered out on its own.

Claiborne sat at the end of the dining table. She smiled as she watched her grandchildren argue and tease one another while Angelica and Thelma gathered the food that was specially made for her. The family all laughed and talked over each meal, even Joan, because she knew this would be one of the last moments they would all share together. The festivities ended and Grandmother Clai retired to bed early. Soon after Claire and Hanson were carried to bed by their mother and aunt. Joan followed along to bed, though she was restless.

To Joan, the chair sits ominously in the attic. She hadn’t been there to witness her great-grandmother or great aunts use it, but she knew Grandmother Clai is soon to be beckoned to it. Like a siren calling out to sailors at sea. “It’s not fair!” She thought as she wrestled her blanket in bed. “She still has plenty of time left in life and it’s cruel to make her go into the unknown so early!” She argued with the feeling that was growing in her stomach. Suddenly, there was a tapping sound coming from outside of Joan’s bedroom window. She sat up to find a barn owl standing on the roof outside. She stared out at the owl, stunned as it spread its wings to her. Joan peered into the owl’s all-knowing eyes and knew it was there to collect her grandmother’s soul. She let out a defeated sigh and watched the owl until it took flight into the sky, never turning back.

Joan went back to the attic door this time knowing for certain that she was awake and stared at it until she couldn’t bear the anxiety and fear taking over her being any longer and grabbed the doorknob. The door opened with effortlessly, as if before it had been made of solid stone. She stared down at the stairs and took one foot up in front of the other. She looked up and there she was. Her beautiful Grandma Clai, appearing to be made of marble, somehow lifeless and full of life at the same time. Her mouth pinned the slightest of smiles, much like Mona Lisa. In her lap was the book. But a closer examination showed it wasn’t a book like she had thought before, it was a journal. Her Grandmother had been preparing her final words, without them being any the wiser. Joan instinctively flipped to the last page. It read,

“Never confuse anxiety with your intuition, my dear. Your gut always knows.”

Joan knew that line was specifically written for her.

After the funeral Joan had come to the realization that she was never truly anxious. She was experiencing, for the first time, her own intuition guiding her. She read over her grandmother’s journal 3 times and each time she did, she was more understanding as to why her grandmother was ready to go. She loved the stories her grandmother left behind for them, the words of advice and cautious tales. She gathered that in some way, going into the afterlife was one of the biggest adventures a person could go on and doing it peacefully meant going into the unknown without fear. She knew now that she wanted to live life the way her grandmother did,

Fearlessly and guided by her own intuition.