The Process
A Story Inspired by the Prompt “Jar”
The air began to soften, filling the room with a glorious tingling that put everyone at ease. Perhaps a shared hallucination or maybe the presence of otherworldly beings, none were ever sure. But the family knew this moment, this feeling would be coming, as it did everytime one of them was about to die.
Jason went to the mantle in the living room and from it took an ancient, impenetrably thick, cobalt blue glass jar and brought it to Josephine.
For centuries, perhaps longer, the jar had been in the Continens family. Dense like heavy ceramic, splintering webs of age layered within its deep indigo walls, the round vessel was the height of a beer bottle, the width of a pickle jar at its widest. Light shimmered through it, dancing between translucency and opacity, never would the walls allow light to shine cleanly through as modern glass does. And this, the Continens believed, was one of the reasons this jar worked.
Months prior to this moment, Josephine decided she was winding down. She was nearing 93; she felt the urge to move on. She’d sent her announcements and farewells to friends and family, letting them all know her intentions to die, and telling them her love for, or disdain of, them; properly closing the door on this moment in time.
