CARVED IN STONE part 8

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?