Grandma's Ultimate Sacrifice

As we were getting ready to head back to the city after Thanksgiving, Grandma Kehlani did something that left me absolutely speechless. Right before my eyes, she slaughtered Shadow, the giant black snake she had cherished for a decade.

Shadow was more than just a pet; Grandma treated him like her own flesh and blood. Over the years, it must have devoured countless small creatures. Stretched out, Shadow was taller than anyone I knew. So when Grandma announced her intention to kill the snake, I was completely taken aback. But with a single, unhesitating stroke, she severed its head, her face showing not a shred of emotion.

"It's the Year of the Snake," she declared tersely, "and its time has come."

She carefully opened up Shadow's belly and extracted a sizable, blood-soaked gallbladder. It was as large as a chicken egg, a deep, dark black, and it still gave off wisps of steam.

"Rayna, come here and eat this gallbladder!" she ordered.

I shook my head furiously, refusing as hard as I could. Eventually, it was only Grandma's threat of harming herself that forced me to swallow it, my heart racing. The overpowering taste of raw flesh turned my stomach, making me gag.

When she saw me finally gulp down the gallbladder, Grandma gripped my hand tightly, her voice trembling with fear as she spoke:

"The holidays are over, and it's returned.

"After you swallow the gallbladder and it appears, scales will start to grow on your skin!"

At the time, I brushed off her words as mere superstition, some old wives' tale she must have picked up from who knows where. I was in such a hurry to catch the bus that I didn’t pay much attention to what she said afterward.

But now, as I think back, I vaguely remember her mentioning one last thing before we parted ways.

"When the scales appear, there's only one thing you need to remember—

"Run!"