The city was alive in that familiar Friday night buzz,streetlights flickering, distant honks slicing through the dusk, and the pulsing beat of music from nearby bars. Sasha slid into the backseat of the cab with Alani, Sienna, and Naya, laughter still bubbling from their last inside joke.
"First stop, burgers and fries," Alani declared. "And something greasy enough to soak up last week's stress."They pulled up at a neon-lit fast food joint, all chrome and 90s retro flair. Grease, ketchup, and laughter filled the air. With their takeaway bags in hand and soft drinks in oversized cups, they strolled further into town, not quite ready to call it a night.
"Let's find something weird and fun to spice up game night," Sienna said, eyes catching on a dusty thrift store tucked between a closed bookstore and a bar. Its flickering "OPEN" sign looked more like a dare.They slipped inside.The place smelled like old paper and forgotten perfume. Rows of odd knick-knacks, porcelain dolls, and vintage books lined every shelf. But what drew their eyes was the jar,tall, glassy, slightly green-hued with gold detailing around its mouth. It sat on a shelf, glinting under a dusty bulb like it had been waiting. "This would make a killer drink jar!" Naya said, lifting it. "We can pour our punch in here for the next hangout."
"I swear this looks ancient," Alani murmured, tracing her fingers along the odd engravings around its rim. They weren't letters—more like symbols. Almost… tribal. But none of them thought much of it.They bought it. Cheap too. The storekeeper just nodded silently as he wrapped it in newspaper. No small talk. No smile.Back on the street, the girls carried the jar like a trophy. Their laughter echoed louder now, drunk on the night and each other's energy. But just as they turned the corner to where the cab was waiting, something shifted.
The air grew still. Sasha paused.
Across the street, half-blurred in the dim haze of the streetlamp, stood a hooded figure. Motionless. Watching.
She blinked. "Did you guys see that—"
But when she looked again, the sidewalk was empty.
"See what?" Naya asked.
Sasha shook it off, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Let's go mix some drinks."
But long after they were home, long after the night of dancing and laughter, the jar sat on the kitchen counter,empty, gleaming, and humming with a strange presence.
Something had started.
Siena picked the jar to assess it and commented on the symbols saying they were so unique abd that she hs never seen such art before."Exactly why I love it," Sasha added. Her voice was light, but something about the jar still tugged at her thoughts. That moment earlier, with the hooded figure… she hadn't mentioned it. Didn't want to ruin the vibe. Besides, the night felt good. Almost… magical.
"What if," Alani said slowly, "we all wrote down one wish. Or desire. Something real. Something we don't talk about out loud."
"You mean like… manifesting?" Naya raised an eyebrow.
"Not just that. Like a pact," Alani said, warming to the idea. "A vow of trust. Whatever goes in the jar stays between us. No one reads it. No one speaks of it."
"I'm in," said Naya , already reaching for a notepad and tearing the pages into squares.
"This feels sacred," Sienna whispered. "Let's do it properly."
They lit more candles,sandalwood and rose this time,and dimmed the lights further. Someone turned down the music. The air thickened,not uncomfortably, but meaningfully.
Each of them took a pen and a piece of paper.Sasha's fingers trembled slightly. She hesitated staring down at her blank page. Then she wrote something on it , slow and deliberate. Her throat tightened as she folded the paper into a perfect square.The scent of vanilla and cedarwood filled the apartment. Alani had lit one of her favorite candles, its gentle flame flickering against the living room wall. Cushions were scattered on the floor, the wine was already halfway gone, and a playlist of soulful R&B flowed in the background, weaving a spell of warmth and femininity.
The girls were gathered in a loose circle, bellies full from takeout, cheeks glowing from laughter and the soft buzz of red wine. The jar,the one they had found earlier at the thrift store,sat in the middle of their circle like a centerpiece. Beautiful, antique, mysterious. The candlelight caught its curved surface, the symbols carved around its neck seeming to shimmer briefly.
"We should give it a name," Naya suggested, tucking her legs beneath her.
"How about 'The Sisterhood Jar'?" Sienna said, swirling the last of her wine.
"Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel," Nasiggled.
One by one, they all folded and sealed their wishes.
"I feel like this needs something… official," said Alani. "Let's say it out loud. Like a promise."
They joined hands in a loose circle around the jar.
"I vow to never speak of what's placed inside this jar," Alani said.
"Nor judge it," Naya added.
"Nor betray the sister who wrote it," said Sasha.
"May this jar hold our truths safely," Sienna finished.They all smiled, a little dazed at the intimacy of it all. It felt good. Right. Binding in a way that didn't feel scary,just… solid.
They each slipped their folded paper into the jar.
When Alani placed the lid back on, a strange draft blew through the room. The candle flickered violently, then steadied.
"Did someone open a window?" Naya asked, glancing around.
"Nope," said Sasha, suddenly shivering. "Weird."
They poured more wine, turning the energy back up. A toast was made. Laughter bubbled again.
But the jar sat there in the center. Silent. Closed.None of them knew that the jar had once belonged to a woman named Lali Nthiga,a midwife and herbalist in the late 1800s who used the vessel in a sacred binding ritual among women. The jar was created for strength and loyalty,but always at a cost. A desire granted meant something had to be taken. A wish fulfilled required a sacrifice. No one remembered that history anymore. No one told it. The thrift store held no warnings, no records. Just dust, and fate.
By the time the girls called it a night, each of them felt a strange peace. Like a knot in their chests had slightly loosened.
Sasha stayed behind to clear the wine glasses. She picked up the jar, studying it once again. Something pulsed at the base of it,a warmth, brief and gone before she could fully register it.
She looked toward the candlelight.
"Let this be the start of something better," she whispered.
Then she placed the jar on the bookshelf, nestled between photo frames and novels.
As she turned off the light, the symbols on the jar glowed for the faintest second—dim and golden,then faded to nothing.