Our Family Tradition
It was just another family tradition. Although, one may say, a bit unusual.
Repeated year after year, for as long back as anyone can remember, our family has always fed Aunt Martha. At least that is what we called her. She wasn’t really an Aunt at all - in fact she wasn’t even human. Aunt Martha was a monster that lived in the basement. Imagine a slimy meatball, the size of a small car, that had a huge mouth always open and displaying the most ferocious fangs you’ve ever seen. She’d look around with her very round, light green eyes which were probably the most “human” aspect of her (even though they were the size of basketballs). So yeah, not exactly an aunt, but she was always hanging around and demanding attention when we least felt like giving her any. Close enough.
For obvious reasons, we never went into the basement. That didn’t stop us from hearing Aunt Martha slithering around down there on her meatball legs. They’d make sucking noises along the way and anyone I’d ever brought over always asked about the weird sounds. To which I’d typically respond:
“Oh, our Aunt lives downstairs. She has no teeth…[flash of Aunt Martha’s fangs in my head]…and has to suck everything through a straw. Uhm…she is really loud at it.”
Aunt Martha was always there. However, there was one point every year when she became uncontrollably hungry. Way back when, when Aunt Martha first appeared, she would eat everything and anyone that came near her. No one had found a way to kill her, and if someone managed to lure her into a truck and drop her into a river, she’d always find her way back to one of us. She must have actually been related to us (let’s hope I don’t have any of Aunt Martha’s genes). We also couldn’t alert the Navy or Army to nuke our Aunt, because as part-supernatural beings, we were still trying to come out as quietly and in the least frightful way to everyone else. Calling out Aunt Martha was sure to cause panic.
One of our ancestors (who happened to be a wizard) created a spell to satisfy Aunt Martha’s cravings. I need to point out that this isn’t a very efficient spell, and therefore question the skills of said wizard ancestor (let’s hope I also don’t have his genes). Nonetheless, it works to curb our Aunt’s terrifying hunger urges.
So every year we host a family reunion and the spell works like this:
Every living family member that has reached puberty must participate. To be safe, we say anyone over 9 years old.
Each individual must find a token. This can be anything. However, I’d recommend it to be something light enough to throw about 12 feet, but heavy enough to aim and reach its target.
Ideal Tokens: tennis ball, remote control, wrench, nauseating vanilla candle
Not Ideal Tokens: Feather, desk, paper, your neighbor’s small dog
When token is selected, the individual must cast the spell by chanting:
“Hoc est corpus meum. Hic est enim cibus.”
This is Latin for “This is my body. This is the food.”
Then the person must prick their finger to draw blood and smear it on the token. Finally, to close out the spell they say:
“Donec iterum.”
Latin for “Until next time”. Yes, I agree that this part of the spell is perplexing and questionable.
When I was a child, my parents tucked me into bed at night and once told me it was very important that no one select the same token. They stressed that the spell could only cast once per year, per individual. So to prevent any issues, we all cast spells on a token once everyone arrives at the house.
4. The last step requires that everyone take their token and approach the basement one at a time. We have tape down at the edge of the top staircase to let us know when to go no further. From there, we have a clear view of Aunt Martha staring at us with her big, green eyes from the bottom of the staircase. With her mouth wide open and drooling, she growls with intense hunger pains. She gets very, very loud as the night goes on and much stronger. Eventually, she’d be able to slime her way up the stairs. I get chills thinking about it.
From the tape marker, each person takes their token and throws it into Aunt Martha’s mouth. Little by little, after each token is fed to her, she’ll slither back down, become quieter, and eventually go back to lurking in the basement. Piece of cake, right?
So as I was saying, it’s another family tradition we repeat like clockwork every single year. But something happened this year that we didn’t see coming.
Cousin Lily cast a spell on a token before arriving at the house [insert gasp here]. We never had a chance to understand why, but she was always known to be an overachiever. The thing is, she didn’t tell anyone when she arrived. So when the time came to select your token and she was in the bathroom texting on the toilet, I didn’t realize the medallion I picked up was hers.
Everyone cast their spells, including me, which made Cousin Lily’s spell on the medallion obsolete.
I was one of the first to feed Aunt Martha. I always prefer to get it over with. Every year when I’m at the top at that stairwell, I feel a permanent terror in the pit of my stomach. At the same time, I also feel sad for her. I imagine that maybe she wasn’t always like this, because when I look into her light green eyes I see a sense of belonging and a sort of joy to be with her family that time of the year. But that may just be me compensating for the fear and hoping to win a bet I have going with my cousins.
When someone finally dragged Cousin Lily out of the bathroom, she looked for her token and realized it was missing. She started describing it to everyone, and after some hesitation, I announced that I already fed it to Aunt Martha. Lily simply shrugged her shoulders and started to look for another token. Did her parents never tuck her into bed at night and explicitly tell her the rules of feeding our Aunt?! Although, given that this had never happened before (that we knew of), it was worth a shot.
It was a quick realization that these efforts were for naught when we saw Lily try to cast her spell on various objects. Every time she chanted the words, the object would dissolve in her hands. Panic had started to settle in at this point. She was the only one that hadn’t fed Aunt Martha, who was getting louder and closer by the minute.
Finally, our great, great, great (actually I’m not sure how many “greats” he is, but he looks absolutely ancient) Grandfather creaked over to us in his rusty wheelchair. He was barely able to lift his head, but he spoke in a volume no one expected because I think I saw the whole room jump when he shouted:
“IF THE BODY CAN NOT BE TRANSFERRED,
THE FOOD MUST BE… THE BODY.”
That would have been nice to know beforehand.
As if on cue, we heard the creak of the stairs as Aunt Martha inched closer, and we all turned our heads to Cousin Lily. She was as pale as a ghost, but kudos to her as she approached the basement door. It may have been shock that led her there, or the fact that she knew anyone of us would have put her there.
She opened the basement door and Aunt Martha was already halfway up the stairs. Everyone stepped back in fear, but couldn’t stop staring as Lily walked past the door and dove straight into Aunt Martha’s mouth. What a way to go. Unfortunately, only half of her went in, while the other half had to experience fangs even the Devil should be scared of. We watched in disbelief as Aunt Martha devoured Cousin Lily.
Sated and full, our Aunt oozed her way back down the stairs and meandered into a dark corner to take a nice long nap. Because naps with a full stomach really are the best.
That night, I proposed we actually talk to our Great-times-a-million Grandfather about all the rules and consequences of our family tradition, write them down, and email them out to everyone before the yearly feast. I received anxious nods around me as everyone unanimously agreed. We approached the old man and found him facing a window, with his head rolled to the side. He wasn’t breathing. It appeared he had died while we were devising our master plan to prevent future family members from being eaten by Aunt Martha. But in his hand, I noticed he held a silver locket. I opened it and saw the face of an enchanting woman with round, light green eyes looking back at me. I looked up at everyone, pointed to the picture, and shouted:
“I totally called it! Pay up Cousin Lily….oh.”