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The Vessel: a Flash Fiction Horror Story

The Vessel: a Flash Fiction Horror Story

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 The VesselSai’s Newsletter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.© Sai Marie Johnson 2025A story often begins out of nowhere – a walk into a hike, a day into night. And for Elias Royal, it was a bit of a lifetime spent building his world out of concrete and equations, and he liked to think that’s all it was ever going to be. He wasn’t the sort of man who was looking for eventful, but he did want to leave some sort of honest work legacy in his life – and that led him to becoming a genetic engineer. He was a man who believed in the structural integrity of science and the irrefutable logic of mathematics, and there had never been any real room for faith or spirituality in his life. He viewed it as a crutch – something people needed to get through the harsh realities of life. But, as life would happen to throw some harsh realities at Elias, it hit him like an anvil in a cartoon when his seven-year-old son, Leo – ended up being the one whose body was failing the quiet, devastating fight against juvenile cancer, and it was efficiently unspooling his boy’s thread right before his eyes.“It’s stage four,” the doctor’s grim voice murmured, low and so monotone Elias wasn’t sure he’d fully heard it.“What?” He murmured.The doctor let out a low sigh, “I’m sorry, Mr. Royal; there’s nothing more we can do.”And that was it – like a deflated balloon slowly losing its air. The doctor’s words, devoid of hope, were the final nail in his poor son’s coffin. Elias felt a shudder roll through his body.Miracles were for fairy tales.But as Leo’s breathing became a ragged rattle and the boy’s small, pale hand grew cold in his, Elias’s wife, Isla, clung to a different truth. She had heard of the Shrine of Saint Angitia, an ancient, crumbling temple rumored to house a source of spring water with rumored healing powers.“Isla, you can’t be serious.” Elias scoffed, his skepticism a shield against the pain, but in Isla’s desperate eyes, he saw a plea he couldn’t refuse.“Just hear me out, Eli – please. It can’t hurt, can it?” she sucked in a breath – her voice gasping on the air as she fought back her tears, “I can’t not do anything and just let my baby die, Elias!”Something inside him sunk, and there was no way he could say no.“Fine, get in the Jeep.” The jostle of the keys audible, as he pulled them from his pocket and watched her visibly calm instantly.The entirety of the drive, they drove in silence.It was as if the car had become a tomb of sorrow, and a hearse in practice.When they pulled into the parking lot, the shrine was just as Elias had imagined, nightmare of a tourist trap…one of those dreadful monuments to human gullibility.A gaunt priest offered a vial of what looked like tap water as they approached the fountain. Feeling at odds within himself, and yet posed with Isla’s hopeful face, Elias paid the exorbitant fee, the act feeling like a profound surrender of his principles.When they returned home, he watched, a knot of cynical dread in his stomach, as Isla spoon-fed the clear liquid to their unconscious son.“See, not a damn thing,” he whispered to himself lowly – making his grim prophecy.Then, the impossible happened.Hours later, a soft gasp escaped Leo’s lips.Elias rushed to his bedside, his own heart a frantic drum. The boy’s eyes fluttered open, not with the dull, listless gaze of the dying, but with a sharp, vibrant clarity. The color was visibly returning to his cheeks – like magic.Suddenly, Leo’s wheezing ceased.Within a day, Leo was asking for a sandwich, his voice thin but steady.A week passed, and he was running in the garden, a blur of pure, unfiltered youthful energy.The doctor seemed speechless.He ran tests, shook his head, and muttered about spontaneous remission, going on a small tangent about statistical anomalies so rare they were almost mythical.Elias, however, couldn’t shake the image of the shrine, of that simple vial.He told himself it was a powerful placebo, a collective delusion that had somehow, against all odds, jump-started Leo’s will to live. But a flicker of something new, something unsettling, had taken root in his mind. He needed to prove the water’s miraculous qualities. He needed to find the mechanism behind the cure.It hit him then, and Elias took a small, unlabeled sample from the remaining vial, a clandestine act he justified as an academic pursuit. At his company’s lab, he slipped it in with other environmental samples.The results came back a week later, and they made no sense.The water’s molecular structure was simple, H₂O with a few trace minerals, but it contained an anomaly: a subatomic particle that shouldn’t exist in nature, a kind of quantum echo. He cross-referenced the signature with academic papers.Nothing.He tried private databases. He found one hit. It was a redacted file from a ...
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