Don't Open the Red Jar

If I hadn't blocked the hoe with my arm, it would've landed on my face.

I had watched in horror as the bone in my left arm jutted out. It was white and stark. With my flesh ripped open, blood had poured everywhere.

The pain had been so intense that I'd rolled around on the ground. At the time, Carl had burst into tears, which brought Grandma running over.

But instead of asking what had happened, she grabbed a broom and started beating me across my head and face with it.

The whole time, she was cooing at Carl, telling him not to cry.

Although there was blood everywhere, she acted like she couldn't even see it and just kept hitting me.

In the end, the lady who lived next door saw what was happening and rushed me to the hospital.

They managed to save my arm, but the scar stayed. It would be with me for the rest of my life. From that moment on, I hated Grandma with a passion.

Mom didn't like my attitude. "She's old now. She's no longer the same person. You haven't seen her in over a decade, so what are you so afraid of?"

"If she's still the same as before, I'm coming right back."

Actually, Grandma didn't live that far away. It would take only 30 minutes to get there by bike. As it had been years since I was back in the village, I couldn't help feeling a little emotional.

I hadn't been back to Grandma's place since my arm injury. I was now 24 years old, a college graduate, so it had been about 16 years.

Suddenly, I heard a woman call out, "Oh, is that you, Abby? You look just like your mother!"

I turned to see a familiar face.

The red birthmark on her cheek matched the one in my memory perfectly. This was Doris Davenport, Grandma's next-door neighbor. She was the one who got me to the hospital.

"Doris! Yes, it's me, Abigail. I just graduated from college, so I came back to visit."

I felt somewhat ashamed of myself.

Doris was practically my savior. But as soon as I recovered, my parents took me to town. And because I didn't want to see Grandma, I never came back to thank Doris in person.

Doris smiled as she praised, "Look at you, all grown up. And you've grown into a real beauty. Here to see your grandma today?

"Did you come back to see her because you heard that she's ill? I knew you weren't that heartless. She is still your grandmother, after all."

Wait, what? Grandma was sick? Mom hadn't mentioned anything about that. But I couldn't very well say that out loud right then.

Doris gestured for me to follow her. "Come on. We're going the same way."

That old house looked just like I remembered, only more run-down.

Doris waved goodbye before going back to her place.

I stared at the gate, unable to take that first step. I didn't know how to face Grandma.

The old wooden gate produced a grating sound right then, and a shaky figure appeared in front of me.

When I saw who it was, I stepped back without thinking. It was Grandma. She had aged so much. With her eyelids all droopy, she looked even more gloomy than before.

"And what did you come here for? Here to find out when this old hag will die?"

The moment she saw me, she snapped at me without hesitation, then broke into a violent cough.

I let out an irritated laugh.

"Fine. If I'm that unwelcome, I see no reason for me to stick around and be insulted. Here, Mom asked me to give this to you. She said the old jar is finally red through and through."

I dropped the bag I was holding in front of her before turning to leave. I didn't know what got into Mom this morning, but she had insisted I deliver this bag to Grandma personally.

"What did you just say?"

Grandma, who could barely walk a second ago, suddenly rushed toward me like she'd been pumped with adrenaline.

She clamped her hands around mine, her cloudy eyes lighting up with a strange, intense gleam. Her face even flushed an unnatural shade of red.

"Mom asked me to give you this bag."

I tried to yank my hand free. As her hands were dry and bony, it felt as if I had been grabbed by a dead tree branch.