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421 Words
Chapter 15: The Black Cat and the Piano
Dawnlight streamed through the Warren Manor's shattered stained glass as Jackie awoke in the grand hall.
Her hands flew to her abdomen—flat and unmarked, no trace of pregnancy. Amethyst shards littered the floor, each reflecting different dates:
2023.09.281923.10.311967.04.07
"The seventh reset..." Jackie whispered. Memories returned like corrupted files reconstructing—sharpest among them, William's final lip movement: Black cat.
From the attic, piano notes drifted down. Not Moonlight Sonata, but a lullaby she'd never heard yet knew by heart.
Following the music, Jackie discovered a hidden door behind a dollhouse. Inside stood a child's bedroom with seven taxidermied black cats nailed in a Ursa Major constellation. Each had gemstone replacements for their right eyes—except the seventh, its socket gaping empty.
The piano stopped.
Jackie turned to see herself seated at the bench.
This other Jackie—pregnant, with a mechanized right hand—played keys that oozed golden fluid spelling words in the woodgrain:
WHEN THE SEVENTH CAT SEES
"You're late." The double lifted her face—left eye normal hazel, right eye William's gold iris. "We've waited seven cycles."
A fetal heartbeat pulsed from inside the piano.
"This is the only escape pod." Her twin tapped a barcode on her wrist matching Lucas's serial numbers. "Mothers birth time-anchors. Fathers record history's fractures."
She lifted the piano lid. Inside crouched—
A miniature William.
No older than five, his chest pierced by seven silver needles. Worse, his translucent skin revealed organs made of micro-gears.
"The Mechanical Holy Infant." Her double's voice glitched. "Grown in Monroe wombs with Blackwood eyes."
Lightning flashed outside. Through the window, Jackie saw six other versions of herself across eras—each holding a clockwork baby.
The seventh cat detached from the wall. Its split belly spilled microfilm showing William's father's notes:
"When the seventh mother sacrifices herself, the Holy Infant opens its first human eye."
Her mechanized twin disintegrated, pointing a crumbling arm at the fireplace: "His gift."
Among the ashes lay a brass piano key. At Jackie's touch, seven lifetimes of memories detonated—
The true reset point wasn't her death, but childbirth. Six times, mechanized forces had taken her babies at birth before memory-wiping her. Only this cycle had William's sacrifice changed the anchor point to conception.
As the attic crumbled, a mechanical wail stopped Jackie at the threshold. The piano infant was awake—staring at her with human eyes.
Eyes made from the amber cufflinks she'd once gifted William.
- Writer
