The Mark
1008 Words
Nora sat at the small kitchen table, her hand resting palm-up in the pale morning light. The bruise on her wrist had faded overnight, but something else had appeared—something that made her stomach twist.
It wasn’t a cut or a scratch. It was a thin, silvery line beneath the skin, faint but real. When the light hit it just right, it shimmered like liquid metal.
She rubbed at it, hard, but it didn’t fade. It pulsed once, soft and slow like a heartbeat.
Her breath caught.
“Mara?” she called quietly.
The detective appeared from the hallway, still half-asleep, a mug of coffee in hand. “You’re up early.”
Nora hesitated, then turned her wrist toward her. “What’s this?”
Mara leaned closer, frowning. “What’s what?”
“This line,” Nora said, her voice shaking. “It wasn’t there yesterday.”
Mara set her mug down and took Nora’s wrist gently, inspecting it under the light. Her eyes narrowed for half a second before she looked away too quickly.
“Looks like an old scar,” she said.
“It’s not,” Nora whispered. “It’s glowing.”
Mara gave a small laugh, but it sounded forced. “You didn’t sleep much, did you? Maybe your eyes are playing tricks.”
Nora pulled her wrist back, her pulse quickening. “I’m not imagining it.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Mara’s voice softened. “But sometimes stress and trauma makes us see things that aren’t there. Just… breathe, okay? You’re safe here.”
Safe.
The word felt empty.
Mara reached for her coffee again, pretending not to notice Nora’s glare. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.” Then she turned and walked toward her desk.
Nora stared at her back, frustration burning in her chest. Why lie?
Hours later, Mara had gone out for work, leaving the apartment quiet except for the rain starting again. Nora sat by the window, tracing that silvery line over and over.
It wasn’t just a mark. It felt alive, warm under her fingertips, as if it knew she was touching it.
When she pressed harder, flashes of something flickered in her head. Voices. Smoke. A woman’s scream.
She gasped and pulled her hand away. The visions vanished.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
“What’s happening to me…” she whispered.
Her gaze drifted to a c***k in the wall, and for some reason, her mind pulled her backward, to a night years ago, when she was smaller, weaker, still trapped in that cold foster home.
Her foster mother had been drunk, stumbling in the kitchen, muttering curses under her breath. Nora had stood by the door, clutching the leftover bread.
“You stole again, didn’t you?” the woman had hissed, grabbing her by the arm. “Always hiding things, always bringing trouble.”
“I didn’t—”
The woman’s hand struck her across the face. The sting made her eyes water.
“You think I don’t see what you are?” she slurred, dragging her closer. “That mark on your wrist… you were born wrong. Cursed.”
Nora had looked down. The faint silver shimmer had been there even then, smaller, dimmer.
The woman’s grip tightened. “Silver curse, that’s what you are. I should’ve sent you back when they brought you here.”
Nora had yanked free and ran to her room, locking the door before collapsing beside her bed.
She’d rubbed her wrist raw that night, trying to erase it. But the mark never left.
And she’d learned not to ask about it again.
***
Nora blinked back to the present, her chest aching. She pressed her palm against the cool window glass, watching drops slide down the pane.
“Silver curse,” she whispered. The words tasted like metal and memory.
The rain outside grew heavier, matching the tightness in her throat.
Kaia hadn’t come back since last night. Mara had barely spoken since morning. And Nora couldn’t shake the feeling that both of them were hiding something.
Her reflection in the window caught her eye. The faint glow beneath her skin pulsed once more.
No… it wasn’t her imagination.
That night, sleep came slow. The storm had rolled in again, thunder rumbling across the skyline.
She tossed, turned, but when her eyes finally closed, she wasn’t in the apartment anymore.
She stood in a forest.
Fire painted everything red and gold. Trees cracked and fell. The air rick of smoke and ash. Her bare feet burned as she stumbled through the undergrowth, searching for a way out.
The moon hung huge above the flames, silver and cold. It shimmered brighter than the fire itself, like it was watching her.
A whisper echoed through the trees, low and distant.
Nora…
Her heart lurched.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice trembling.
No answer. Only the rustle of leaves and the crackles of fire.
Then, from between the burning trees, a figure appeared. Not human. Its shape moved like smoke, its eyes glinting silver under the moonlight.
A wolf.
It stared straight at her, unblinking, its fur black as night. The air shifted around her, heavy, electric. She couldn’t move.
The wolf’s gaze burned into her, and she felt the mark on her wrist flare hot, glowing brighter and brighter until it hurt.
She clutched her arm, gasping.
“What do you want from me?”
The wolf tilted its head slightly, the silver in its eyes swirling like stars.
Nora…
The voice wasn’t around her this time. It was inside her.
The forest fire was rising, heat pressed against her skin. She tried to run, but her legs refused.
The wolf stepped closer to her, its eyes filling her vision.
And then, as the moonlight broke through the smoke, its pupils widened.
It wasn’t just any wolf.
It was awake.
Its gaze locked onto her, sharp and knowing.
And deep in that silver reflection, she saw herself.
Before she could scream, the world went white.
- Writer
