Copyright (c) 2020 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.
CARVED IN STONE
Part 8
By
R. Peterson
-------Black
Rose Cemetery-------
The rotting corpse of forty three year old, Richard
Miles hung from a traverse shaped
like a capital X. Someone had doused the body with gasoline and set it on fire.
The flickering fire-light made the moon-shadows of trees appear to dance … but
no one would look. Two chests overflowing with silver spoons and forks guarded
the sides of the cross.
Joanie Otter picked up two forks from one of the
chests and then flung one toward the recently covered grave of Erma Bates. “You
should have let the birds take it,” she said. “You won’t need it now that the
worms crawl into your mouth without any help.”
“Let’s hold hands … shall we?” Hamilton Fisk
beckoned the hand-held spoons and forks clustered in the oldest part of Black
Rose Cemetery to come closer.
“We
must become children,” she said, “the children of darkness,” Joanie Otter
closed her eyes and nodded her head as they joined hands.
“What
is death … but sleep on another world?” Hamilton’s eyes flashed around the
circle of moving bodies seeing beyond that which was reflected of light.
“Nothing
… and everything,” the witches chanted as they spun as one.
“Who
will close your eyes when we are gone?”
“No
one … and everyone,” the witches sang. The wheel they created with their bodies
began to sin faster.
“Who
can see with their eyes open?”
“Only
the dead … and those about to be,” all nine covens chanted. Black garments and
bits of cold-silver became a static blur.
“Do
we fear death … or welcome her?”
“She
is mother,” the witches sang. “And life is the inattentive father she waits for.”
The storm, which had ravaged everything in a circle
outside the cemetery, suddenly spun itself into a dark and fantastic funnel-cloud
that touched down somewhere in the vastness of Motha Forest and opened just above
their heads. Two girls screamed with pleasure as they were spun into the air
and then vanished. A glowing green figure appeared as a tiny speck in the tube
and approached the cemetery with the leisure of darkness.
“Time
is the doctor who kills her patients,” Hamilton said, “… so who you gonna
call?”
And the witches laughed …
-------
Descombey Mansion Cloverdale -------
“It seems Marjorie had
her heart torn in half.” The sheriff was looking out the upstairs window of
Melania’s bedroom. The storm outside appeared to be growing. A broken branch
from an old Cottonwood tree sailed past the glass … as if it had wings.
“Love
will do that,” Melania agreed. “But she really had no choice. A young girl with
her whole life ahead of her must not fall in love with some magical creation …
even if that creation was mine.”
“Show
me a heart that listens to reason … and I’ll show you a fairy tale.” Allison
was gathering the empty cups and putting them on a tray.
“We
can’t be finished,” John said. “There is too much going on in that place we
just visited.”
“I
agree,” Melania said. “And we will drink more tea. But we can’t stay here.
Something evil is coming to Cloverdale on this night … I think perhaps we
should go for a ride.”
“I’ve
got my patrol car parked just down the street.” The sheriff smiled. “It even
has a radar detector … if you fancy a real fast ride.”
“Thank
you sheriff but I don’t think your car is fast enough …” Melania started to
remove her nightgown and John quickly turned his head. “Not when you have half
the angels in hell polishing your tail-lights.”
“You
going to drive that old Buick you keep tied up in your garage?” John tried to
look anywhere in the room but at her.
“No
you are,” Melania said. “And watch out for cops! That Roadmaster can outrun a
jet airplane … but them law boys is mighty
sneaky in this side of Comanche
County.”
SCARECROWS part 5 The BURNING
By R. Peterson
It was morning, but still dark. Ray
Davis left his farmhouse and staggered toward the outhouse. It was something he did every morning. The gas
lantern he held in his hand illuminated the barnyard with its cluster of weathered
outbuildings and a long windowless chicken coop. There had been a ruckus in the
coop during the night; he suspected a fox was getting after his chickens. The
smell from the two-seater nearly rolled him over as he hung the light on a
hook. He knew he would have to dig out the pit and re-freshen it before too
long. He wanted to put it off as long as possible. It was a nasty job and his
bones ached with the slightest exertion. He began reading a torn-in-half
catalog from Sears and Roebuck.
A tremendous thump shook the ground and
made the lantern fall from the wall. Ray opened the door a crack and peered
out. He swore under his breath. Maybe one of those Nelson youngsters from the neighbor’s farm was playing a prank. They
would be dealt with harshly when he caught them. He smiled to himself as he
removed his wide leather belt from his trousers. “It’s been a while since I
beat me a brat,” he muttered.
Not finding anything in the yard, he
gave up and was almost to the house when the light from the moon was suddenly
blocked from behind. There was the strange smell of almonds and molding straw.
Ray turned just as two large boney hands clutched at his throat and lifted him
high into the air. His legs kicked frantically and bits of chopped straw sprinkled
over him like salt on pork. His pants, without a belt to hold them up, fell
around his work-boots. Ray was dead before the towering Hodmedod tore his arms
off. He was fifty two and his heart had failed. Inside the house, Ray’s wife,
Nora, had heard a small cry. “Must be constipation,” she muttered as she
slipped into a gingham dress with an apron attached and wearily trudged outside
to help her husband.
Margie
was frantic. She looked everywhere, but Brian was gone. When was the last time she had seen him? She hated herself for
walking in the orchard with the soldier. What
had she been thinking? Spending so much time with Sean O’Brien! The shed by
the woodpile was Brian’s favorite place … but he wasn’t there. What if he had
been captured by the mobs rounding up scarecrows? What if he were already burning on a pile somewhere? Margie
could not stand to think about it. She stood in the doorway perplexed; Brian’s
things were gone. He always kept a bag nearby with tools a knife and extra
clothing. As he became more human he felt things like cold … and he had to eat.
A bundle she had given him, before he hid in the shed, containing bread, fruit
and a bottle of water was also missing.
Margie noticed tracks in the snow, they
belonged to Brian and they headed out of town toward the mountains. She felt a
strange relief. He had left on his own. He hadn’t been captured yet.
She ran toward the house. She would have
to tell Emma. They would take her car. Maybe they could catch up with him.
“Oh Brian, I am so sorry.” Margie sobbed
as she went into the house.
Ed Fowler drove the 1939 Ford grain
truck, the back was loaded with Hodmedods, and Judge Walker sat in the
passenger side reading from two sheets of paper. He held the first list up for
Ed to look at.
“This is the list of people we can count
on to support us,” he said. “Most of them is good old boys what know which side
their bread is buttered on. This other page…” he held up the second list, “shows
the ones who are sure to make trouble for us!” He frowned at Ed. “We better deal
with them right now … before they do.”
“That second list looks to be a lot
longer than the first.” Ed glanced at the judge then turned and spat tobacco
juice out his window then continued driving down the snow covered road.
“Of course it is,” the judge said.
“Loyalty always has a price; you can’t recruit good men if you don’t share the
wealth.”
“And you’re not in the mood for
sharing?”
“No more than I have to be, there’s too
many hands in the kitty as it is.”
They
were just approaching a small farmhouse surrounded by ramshackle outbuildings.
A mailbox painted with flowers stood on a post next the gravel driveway.
“Turn in here,” the judge said.
“Jacob and Alice Mathers are dairy farmers; their names are on the list.”
“Which list?” Ed looked at him and
grinned.
The
judge gestured toward the back of the truck where the Hodmedods had begun to move
about causing the truck to rock side to side. “Which list do you think?” he
said.
Sheriff Walker and Eve walked back
toward the encampment with a group of Mommet that had escaped from the roaming
mobs of angry townspeople. Some were helping scarecrows who were badly hurt
while others carried children in shaky arms. Joe Walker had never been around a
group of people who were so gentle and kind. It amazed him that they even
existed. Just before they came into the Mommet encampment they heard a large
group of voices, all talking excitedly. Melania Descombey Kerns stood in the
center of a group of adoring Mommet. The sheriff recognized his old friend.
“Melania,
I never thought I’d see you in the middle of the Motha woods surrounded by
scarecrows!”
“Believe me, It’s a lot better here
than where I came from -- State Hospital North.”
“Why the devil would you be at that
place? That’s a mental hospital!”
“Your brother the judge wanted to
get me out of the way; he has plans for using these straw people and others
like them to control this part of the state. He’s the one who signed the papers
to have me committed.”
“Excuse me for asking.” The sheriff
looked at her. “But what could they possibly fear from a kind old lady like
you?”
Melania
laughed as she looked around and gestured toward the Mommet.
“These
are my children,” she said. “I created most of them thirteen years ago.”
“I’ve
heard talk of you being a witch, but I never believed it.” The sheriff’s eyes
were like two full moons. “Is it true?” He took a step back.
Melania
grinned. “I guess I’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” she said.
Brian kept himself on the opposite
side of the fire and held a burning branch to keep the Chinaman away. He kicked
more wood on the fire to build it up. The monster was made of straw but had the
cunning of a fox. Every-time Brian tried to get around the thing, to try to
flee down the tunnel, the creature blocked his escape. The huge Hodmedod’s face
was even more gruesome reflected by the light of the fire. The flesh was burned
completely away on one cheek. The ragged cut showed a jaw that was a strange
mixture of straw and cartilage. The monster lunged in a vain attempt to knock
the burning stick away but Brian dodged at the last moment and the creature’s
claws grazed his chest, cutting a six inch long tear in his bib overalls. Tiny
grain seeds ran from the cut like dripping blood.
“Your chafe turns slowly to flesh
and I hunger to taste you.” The Chinaman said.
The fire was slowly burning to coals and
it was no longer keeping the beast from lunging. The Hodmedod’s blackened claws
caught Brian’s shoulder and tore away a large part of his previously injured
arm before he was able to pull away. The branch Brian was holding had burned
down to where it was not much more than a twig and the constantly shifting
monster kept him from putting more wood on the fire. Brian tried to think of a
plan, a way to escape from the monster but his brain wouldn’t work. He knew his
time of death was near. His memories always returned to the girl who had
created him. In the last moments of his life he wanted only to think about the
girl. The girl his thoughts danced with. Brian’s last wish was to think only of
Margie.
The end came suddenly. Brian stumbled
slightly; he was worn out and slowing. The Chinaman’s huge clawed hands caught
and crushed onto his throat with a tremendous force that nothing could pry
away. An ephemeral vision of auburn hair blowing in the breeze framing the
lovely face of Margie drifted across the young Mommet’s mind as he went limp
and began to pass out. He smiled despite the pain.
“My mother was a Zingara (gypsy)
from the old country,” Melania told the sheriff. “She brought with her a wooden
recipe box called an Ombre. A cook will use a box like this to store recipes,
but a Bruja (witch) like my mother uses her Ombre to store magic spells. I used
a card from the box called Walkstraw
to create the first Mommet in the county. Later on, Lemont Hicks stole the card
from me and began to create different types of scarecrows Tattie Bogals,
Moggies even the Hodmedod.”
“Somehow I didn’t believe all this
wickedness came from your hand.” The sheriff gazed at the group of Mommet
thoughtfully.
“No enchantment is all good … or all
bad,” Melania said. “Ombre is always in balance. There is as much kindness in
the Mommet … as there is evil in the Hodmedod.”
A
gasp came from the crowd of Mommet as a small squat figure shuffled from the
trees. Sheriff Walker reached for his gun. Melania put her hand on his arm.
“Wait, its Crab,” she said. “He’s a
friend of mine.” The dwarf-like figure smiled as he walked toward the old
witch. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?” She asked him with a
smile.
“My third eye tells me there is
great trouble coming to your village.” Crab tapped a spot between his eyes as
if to show an optic that wasn’t there.
“You’re talking about the town,
about Cloverdale?” Melania’s tone startled the Sheriff he stared at the old woman.
He had never felt fear radiate from anyone before.
“Yes,” Crab said. “We must leave at
once, and army of Hodmedod is about to attack your village and these creatures,”
he pointed to the Mommet, “are the only things that can stop them.”
The Chinaman suddenly released his
hold on Brian’s throat and flung his huge arms into the air. The monster twisted
and clawed at his back as if trying to remove a stinging wasp. Lavar Hicks
stood behind the beast holding a broom-handle with a wire loop tether and a gob
of black tar on the end. The Hodmedod did a convulsing dance as he tried to
scrape the back ooze from his back.
Brian
lay on the floor of the cave. Lavar looked at him without sympathy.
“I ain’t saving you,” he muttered.
“I’m just taking back what’s mine. With my pa gone the Chinaman is all I got in
this world.” He grinned as Brian looked up at him. “So get the hell out of here
before I change my mind.”
Brian
scrambled up and ran from the cave … on wobbly legs.
It slowly became dark in the town of
Cloverdale. It was strangely quiet as if everyone expected something to happen.
Judge Walker looked down the street where his friends and a group of Klu Klux
Klan members from Alabama had begun the ravaging of the town. Hodmedods dragged
the terrified residents from their homes and businesses while the city police
looted.
There was a metal on metal whine
piercing the air like an aircraft in a nose dive. Hundreds of Mommet, led by Sheriff Walker, came around
the corner of Wallace and started down Townsend Avenue. They were carrying
torches and the metallic sound came from their voices. A small squat figure
pranced alongside the witch Melania Descombey who held a wooden box in her
hands.
Judge Walker smiled. “I’ve been
expecting you little brother,” he sneered. He gave a signal and a fire truck
with men riding on the sides pulled from the alley blocking the path of the
Mommet.
Seconds
later another group of Hodmedods armed with grain cutters flanked the Sheriff
and his army.
A blast of water from the fire truck
swept the startled Mommet backwards knocking them to the ground. Their torches
were extinguished. The Hodmedod charged into the confused mass cutting down the
scarecrows like grain. There was screaming chaos everywhere as the Mommet began
to break rank and flee. Mommet children were dragged from their parents and
butchered for sport.
A young female Mommet who carried a tiny
baby in a pack on her back tried desperately to crawl to safety on one
un-severed leg. A huge Hodmedod sliced off her head with a curved blade then
threw her screaming child into the air and speared it with the scythe as it
fell. The Mommet clustered together around an old female in a group frantically
trying to re-ignite their torches. The old scarecrow bravely faced the charging
Hodmedod and was torn apart by the horrible monsters.
Crab grabbed at Melania’s skirts and
smiled up at her, as she opened the small wooden Ombre box. “Yes, that’s it,”
he said as she pulled out a faded yellow card. “The Returning River Spell.”
“How did you know?” Melania looked
down at the dwarf.
“Mmm-mm-mmy third eye,” Crab
stuttered. “It sees things before they happen.”
“Then this will work?” Melania
turned pale as she studied the instructions.
“Oh does it!” Crabs eyes were bright
and laughing as he looked at the fire truck.
Melania
held the card high above her head as she twirled around faster and faster. She
sprinkled blue liquid from a vial as she spun. Her voice rose above the turmoil
of the fighting, an eerie ominous song announcing the coming darkness.
“Pioggia rugiada e massiccio del
canto del Gallo, vola torna ora da dove sei venuto (Cockcrow dew and massif
rain, fly back now from whence you came.)”
She
repeated the chant over and over as her spinning motion accelerated and became
a blur.
Sean O’Brian drove Emma Kern’s car
while Margie sat in the passenger seat scanning the countryside. Sean looked at
her. “Don’t worry we’ll find him,” he said.
“With the county in an uproar … it’s
a fine time for him to run off!” Margie pouted.
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Sean
said. “Hiding out in the hills might save his life.”
“He didn’t run off because of the
scarecrow hunters,” Margie fumed. “We used to be close but I’ve been neglecting
him since …” She looked at Sean. “…since I met you.”
“Look just up ahead, I think that’s
him.” Sean pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped.
Brian
stood doubled over at the side of the road out of breath from running. He
looked up as Margie leaped from the car.
“Brian! Oh my God Brian! Where have
you been?” She began to get angry. “I was worried sick. I told you to hide. I
thought you had been taken.” She grabbed her creation and pulled him into the
car still scolding.
Brian
looked at Sean as he sat, then he hung his head. “I wanted to be by myself …
maybe to find my own kind.”
Margie
sobbed as she hugged him.
“My dear Brian,” she said. “I love
you. I am your kind.”
Sheriff
Walker fired his automatic into the crowd of charging Hodmedod until his clip
ran out. Then he pulled Eve behind him and beat at the scarecrows with a Texan,
a lead bar covered with leather.
The ground began to tremble and shake
like Cloverdale was having its first ever earthquake. The puddles of water
under the fighting masses began to fly backward returning into the fire truck
hoses they had just came out of. Inside the shops, stores and homes that lined
Townsend Avenue toilet tanks began to empty and the water began to flow back
toward the metal water-tower in the center of town. The pumps on the
fire-trucks continued to try to push the returning water forward and smoke
began to stream from the whining motors. A water main under the paved
intersection of Wallace and Galbraith ruptured under the tremendous back
pressure and the explosion blew chunks of asphalt and a parked Volkswagen Beetle
high into the air.
The huge metal water tower was rocking
violently on its seventy foot tall metal legs, and liquid sprayed from the
overflow pipe at the top of the silver receptacle. Water in the aquifer deep
under Comanche County began to rise to the surface. The Cottonmouth River that
ran through the town overflowed its banks and washed out Motha Bridge in one
huge surge of water driven upward like a tidal wave coming from the oceans of
hell.
A giant Hodmedod, with a gash dripping
chopped straw down one side of his face, fought his way forward. He swung a
grain cutter viciously downward trying to sever the neck of the woman who held
the magic card above her head. Suddenly Crab was in front of Melania he climbed
up her torso like a monkey climbs a tree. The huge blade sliced through the
dwarf splashing blood down the blue/gold dress of the witch.
Ed Fowler and Dr. O’Conner gazed at the
carnage going on at the end of Main Street. Behind them were a group of men,
friends of the doctors from down south. The men wore swastikas on their sleeves.
“Hitler has the right idea,” Ed said.
“But he’s taking too much on at once, not thinking it through.”
Dr.
O’Conner picked up a German made machine gun and examined it. He lay it back
down carefully.
“He is a fantastic source of weapons;
we should thank him.”
“It is in his best interest that we
start an insurrection in this country, and he’s also very interested in the
Hodmedod … very interested.” Ed looked at the doctor. “We will not disappoint
him.”
Dr.
O’Conner looked out the window. “As soon as the Hodmedod have weakened the
town, send our storm troopers in, clean up and then have Judge Walker declare
martial law. This is just the beginning. Comanche county is just a stepping
stone to World Domination and with friends in the third Reich … how can we lose?”
Margie, Sean and Brian were just turning
off highway one onto Main Street when the supports on the water tower collapsed
and the tank holding 90,000 gallons of water crashed to the ground leveling half
a city block and washing away houses two streets away. Sean spun the car around
and just missed the huge tank as it plummeted into the ground. But the surge of
water flipped over the car and tumbled it end-over-end down the street like a lost
fishing bobber in a raging river.
Sheriff Walker shoved Melania to the
side and beat at the monster scarecrow. The lead filled leather club sunk deep
into the stuffed effigy tearing out huge chunks of straw and bloody flesh.
Melania gathered the severed dwarf
in her arms and hurried toward her house. Sheriff Walker had just smashed in
the head of a Hodmedod and grabbed her arm as she ran past.
“Where are you going?” He gestured
towards the fighting. “We may still need your powers.”
Melania
carefully extracted the sheriff’s fingers from her arm.
“My magic is complete,” she said.
“The ones responsible for the evil in this town are now dead or soon will be.”
She stared down at the bloody mass in her arms. “This little one here needs my
help to stay alive; there are many things the future needs him for.” She
pointed down the street toward the Spare-a-dime diner. “Your brother is in
there with the last of the evil ones, you must confront him.”
Sheriff
Walker watched the old witch scamper away carrying the injured dwarf, then he
turned and ran toward the diner.
Margie, Sean and Brian were all
thrown from the car as it tumbled down the street. They bobbed in the flooding
waves like corks. Margie fought to keep her head above water then Brian was
there holding her up. The current pushed them toward a light pole that was bent
over the water. Brian grabbed the pole and held on with one hand as he held
Margie with the other.
“Sean! Do you see him?” Margie asked.
She was frantic.
“There!” Brian pointed upstream
where Sean was swimming toward them, he was too far away to grab and would be
swept past. Brian pushed Margie onto the pole then thrust himself outward. He
grabbed at Sean and flung him with a twisting motion toward Margie and the
pole. Then the young Mommet was sucked under the churning water.
The waters began to recede almost as
quickly as they had come. Sheriff Walker walked down the street looking at the
damage. Most of the heavy Hodmedods had sunk in the water and drown while the
lighter Mommet floated. A mob of townspeople lit torches and were burning the
few stragglers as they found them, one by one. The door to Spare-a-Dime was
ajar and water poured out from the wooden floor. Judge Walker was standing on a
table when his brother walked in. The judge pointed a service revolver at his
brother.
“This is your fault,” he said. “If
you just hadn’t interfered, but then that’s you isn’t it?”
“Don’t do something you will
regret.” John pleaded with him.
“This is something I should have
done a long time ago.” Tom grinned suddenly and looked at his younger brother.
“I was the oldest, but I was still always in your shadow! No matter what I did
I always came in second.” He lowered the gun and smiled. “This time I’m going to
be first.” The Judge raised the gun to his own head.
The blast knocked John Walker to his
knees. Blood trickled from his ear from a concussion. The smell of smoke and
gunpowder filled the café. The sheriff looked at his dead brother with stunned
disbelief. Jap Mary Yokohama who had been hiding in the kitchen crept in softly.
She knelt on the floor beside the Sheriff and put her arms around him. After a
while they both began to cry.
Melania carried Crab down the ladder
into the tunnel under the shed in Black Rose Cemetery. He was weak, but still
alive. “You want to go this way, don’t you?” She gestured into the darkness.
Crab mumbled a “yes”. He looked comatose. Near the middle of the tunnel Melania
stopped in front of the door she had noticed on the way out.
“Now we will find out what your
secrets are,” she said.
The
old witch’s scream echoed down the tunnel and scared a flock of nesting birds
in the graveyard above … seconds after she opened the heavy oaken door.
The waters receded quickly. Two days
later the only water left was in large puddles around piles of wreckage. The
townspeople of Cloverdale had already begun the cleanup and were starting to
rebuild.
Sean
walked alongside Margie. Her stark face was pale, Mommet-like and her soft
brown eyes still searched for her scarecrow lover. They walked past the collapsed
water tower on the end of Main-Street and Margie turned away from a Cloverdale
police officer’s body lying in the rubble. A sewn on emblem on the sleeve
caught her attention, it was a Swastika. “That’s odd,” she murmured to Sean.
“Isn’t that a German emblem?”
They watched as one of the farmers
from the Spare-a-Dime soaked a huge pile of wood with gasoline and then set it on
fire.
The
flames illuminated Margie’s face as she looked at Sean. “Do you think we will
ever find him?”
“I’m sure he got away. After all … straw
floats,” Sean pulled her away from the flames that were now roaring. He
playfully patted her on the stomach.
“What do you think of the name Chloe, if it’s a girl?” he asked.
Margie
laughed. “Don’t put the plow before the horse.”
She
was oddly distracted. Something in the fire had caught her eye. She took a step
closer.
“Oh my God! Brian!” she screamed.
The
scarecrow lay near the bottom of the debris pile. The flames were starting to
consume his straw-filled body.
One eye opened. It was the sky blue
color of early morning. Brian stared at his love. He smiled feebly. His last
wish had been granted. He had seen her one last time. A single tear escaped
from under his eyelid and rolled down the grain sack that covered his face.
“I love you,” he whispered just as
the fire covered him like a blanket.
Margie
lunged forward but was driven back by the heat and Sean’s strong arms. The
flames erupted with a roar and consumed the Mommet. The sinew and straw became ash and began to
spiral upward.
Margie collapsed on the ground. She was heavy
with a weight of grief that not even Sean could support. The flames danced
toward the sky and a part of her heart rose with them, and left only ash in her
breast. Brian would forever be her greatest love, there would never be another.
And the two entwined parts were driven
upward by heat, eternally joined but also lost, along with the ashes and the
tears of a beautiful autumn romance. Then everything slowly vanished into the
night sky.
THE END?
