“It’s cool but kind of creepy though. Doesn’t it make you feel weird, uneasy? Like someone is watching us?” Cindy takes a drink from her Coke then burps.
“No,” Cindy replies.
The rain can be heard now like pebbles hitting the roof and backyard pavement. The swimming pool is now almost overfilled due to the downpour. “Now, it’s my turn for a reading. I want Grandma to read my cards,” says Tara.
Grandma looks at Tara and smiles mischievously. Grandma adjusts herself in the chair and looks over Tara. She shovels slowly, then spreads the cards about the table.
“Pick a card, my dear,” asks Grandma. Tara picks a card and lays it on the table. Grandma turns the card showing death.
“What does this mean, I’m going to die?” Nobody says a word.
“Pick another card, my angel.” Tara reaches over and takes a card. Grandma turns it over. It’s death again. Tara starts to panic.
“No, this can’t be. It’s a trick, just like upstairs. You guys are really screwing with me.”
Cindy interrupts, “It also means a new start. Like a new boyfriend.” Rachel laughs aloud. Grandma hushes her.
Grandma now shuffles the cards again. Grandma lays the cards out. Tara cautiously looks them over.
“Pick one more card. Please.”
“This card, no, this card. No, maybe this one,” she says. Tara closes her eyes and wishes for a rich husband and a big house, with many kids. Tara opens her eyes as Grandma turns the card over. It is the death card again. Third time in a row.
Tara in anger grabs the cards and throws them across the room.
“I’m not playing this crap anymore. Sorry, Grandma, no offense, I just don’t understand this creepy, screwed-up shit.”
Grandma stands up from the table and looks at Tara straight in the eye.
“This is not a game!” Grandma exclaims. “I go bed now.”
Fear now strikes Tara as Grandma quickly walks away. She now moves with a walk like a much younger woman. Tara thinks she’s messing with her. That Grandma doesn’t like her. That Grandma enjoys this type of torture.
“What the fuck, Tara? Why are you spazzing out?” asks Cindy. “You ruined the reading and insulted my grandmother.”
“I’m a bit on edge right now,” Tara replies. “Those cards creeped me out. I mean, what if that shit is real.”
“Why don’t you go to the bathroom? Make it all better,” says Cindy.
Rachel sees things are getting a bit out of hand, so she quickly intervenes. “Guys stop it. We’re friends here. It’s supposed to be fun, right?” Tara and Cindy don’t answer.
“Your right, I’m sorry, Tara,” Cindy says. “It’s only a game. The cards can be manipulated.”
“Maybe Grandma did that.”
“Right,” says Rachel. “It’s just a game and we’re all acting stupid. Like little kids again.”
Tara looks outside the back yard. For a moment she swears she saw an apparition of a woman in a pink gown standing in the rain. Tara blames it on the weed. Just stoned, she thinks. I’m only stoned. Nothing to worry, nothing going on here.
“Your right, it’s just a stupid game,” says Tara. “It’s probably the cheap weed I smoked.”
Tara shakes it off then takes a drink of Coca Cola. “I’m hungry, pass the darn Doritos.”
“I have an idea,” says Rachel. How about a Ouija board?"
“We don’t have one,” says Cindy. “But I know what it is.”
“We’ll make it ourselves,” Rachel says anxiously.
“No way, waste of time. It will never work,” says Tara.
“Want to bet? Listen,” replies Rachel, “Michelle Andrews in my science glass said she made one, and it worked. It’s called an Angel Ouija board. It’s been used for hundreds of years. She should know, she says she’s a witch.”
“Homemade, no way, it’s got to be bullshit.” As Tara says ‘bullshit,’ Doritos fall from her mouth.
“I’m serious,” says Rachel. “Listen, Michelle said she summoned her dead grandfather. It’s supposed to be way more powerful that the ones you buy from the stores.”
“Screw it. I say let’s go for it.” Tara says.
“You are both sure you’re ready for this?” Both girls nod in approval. “Then ok,” says Cindy, “Let’s do it. Do not blame anything on me if you get freaked. You’re stoned, and you’re wired. Ok? Wait here.”
Both girls shake their heads in agreement. Cindy gets up and runs to the garage. Tara and Rachel are left behind feeding on mass quantities of Doritos and Turkish delight.
The girls sit Indian style in the center of the living room with the finished Angel Ouija board, the bottom of a cardboard box being the base. Four candles are the only lights, which are placed around the board. Cindy smacks Rachel in the hand, telling her she does things wrong. The three girls continue to devour sweets while working. The clock now shows 12:00 am.
The four girls sit around the board admiring their work. They used black and colored markers, while Cindy directed the other girls. It’s now finished. They high-five each other with excitement.
“I have an idea,” says Rachel.
“Yeah what?” replies Tara with a mouth full or Turkish delight. “Man, I’m feeling kind of sick, guys. And my back, it feels so damn tight. I can hardly move.”
“Don’t wimp out on us now,” replies Cindy.
“I’m not, it’s just that. Ah, forget it,” says Tara.
"Guys,
shut up!" exclaims Rachel. “Have you ever heard the story of Old Man Harris?”
Cindy shakes her head vigorously. Tara chuckles then takes a big drink of her Coke.
“It’s a story about some farmer,” Tara replies.
“I want to hear it,” says Cindy.
“You never heard it? No way! Ok, well, check this out. I’ll tell it best I can remember.” The three girls are so wired up on sugar, they can barely speak. Rachel does her best telling the story.
“Many years ago, during the 1950s, there was this farmhouse. There lived a farmer, his wife, and their three kids. Rumor has it, the farmhouse was located here, right in our neighborhood. You see, Old Man Harris was a farmer, of course. Livestock, strawberries, oranges, plums, apricots, you name it. They say his family dated back to the first white settlers in this region. The story goes like this.” Rachel holds a candle up to her face. "One rainy Halloween night, Big Farmer Harris lost his mid. He sharpened a hand axe for hours. He first butchered his wife in the barn. He cut off the woman’s head, then entered the house buck naked and bloody. The bloody naked farmer walked upstairs, choked his youngest daughter, ate her flesh, then decapitated her brother. The eldest daughter came home late and found everyone butchered and bloodied. Her father attacked her next; then got into a bloody battle. It is rumored the battled lasted for hours. The farmer even broke two of his bones. She was a wreck, broken wrist, back, ribs, a disaster.
“What happened next?” Cindy excitedly asks.
"Hold on, let me finish. And stop hogging all the chips. Anyway, what I was going to say is, nobody really knows what really happened. But this is the version the police told. It goes like this. In the end, Farmer Harris ran off, possessed by the devil, screaming through the farm fields. He ran off buck naked, swinging his bloodied hand axe like a madman. Scary thing is, Old Man Harris’s body was never found. He just vanished. The police searched for him for days, weeks, months, no clues. They found nothing. Since then, local resident say the spirit of Old Man Harris haunts this very land today. Some say they have seen him on rainy nights walking in the park. Others say his apparition appears in the middle of Jamboree Road during stormy nights. It was also rumored that Farmer Harris used to hire slaves. American Indians and Mexicans to do all the dirty work. When they disobeyed, or were rebellious, he beat them with a tree branch. I mean this man was huge, like 400 por 500 pounds. To hide the bodies, Old Man Harris would feed them to hogs.
“That would explain why so many cars crash
off the roads in this area,” says Tara. Rachel’s voice now changes to that of ‘Vincent Price.’
“His big, fat, naked body, blooded, carrying the murder weapon. A sharpened hand-axe. Imagine if you’re on a date, a new Volkswagen Rabbit, and that ugly fat monster chasing you naked. What a buzz killer dudes.”
After Rachel’s story, thunder and lightning strike outside. Rain begins falling even more heavily now. The girls sit shocked, not a word spoke for minutes. Nerves completely rattled.
“So, what happened to the third child?” asks Cindy. “The eldest daughter.”
"She survived a horrible bloody battle. Her Father almost killed her. Could you imagine that? Doing battle with your naked father? Bark me out, I mean, what horror. I mean, freak out by this story. And it happened right here. Scary thing is it rumored a contractor bought the farm from the eldest daughter. It was rumored she was into witchcraft and all sorts of weird shit. When it was time for her to move, she was gone. Just like that. Nowhere to be found. Some say she tried to kill herself. She was unsuccessful. She ran wild through, the neighborhood. Eating dogs, cats, and mailmen,
"She was eventually captured by Sheriff’s, then burned alive as a demon witch. Our teacher aid Ms. Wilson, said the local residence captured her, then burned her alive. by l
“Do you think her father came back to kill her? Maybe possess her and live in eternal damnation. What if the whole family haunts the land today eternally damned. Could you image the power we can absorb? We should call on them. That would be gnarly.” Maybe they have a hidden treasure box somewhere. Hidden, we will all be rich. We can channel it and find it, maybe make millions.’
“I think I’ve seen him before,” Rachel continues the story.
“There is no way I’m going in that park at night,” says Tara.
“Why not, you may get some Tara.” You like big older men.
“Like for sure, don’t male m ill.”
Creep out on this. In fact, there is another part of the story, if you want to hear it. The girls listen in intensively
Karen Ross told me to go in the bathroom at midnight. Dim the lights, look in the mirror, and say Old Man Harris four times. After the fourth, you are supposed see his ugly, fat, bloody face." Rachel shoves another piece of Turkish delight in her mouth.
“Bullshit. That’s a ‘Bloody Mary’ rip-off! What a joke,” says Cindy.
“It’s not bull shit, Cindy. And I’m not done yet,” replies Rachel.
“I have a better idea,” Tara interrupts. “Why don’t we use the board and call on Farmer Harris. Grandma is now sleeping. She’ll never know,” says Tara.
“I’m not that comfortable with calling on spirits,” says Cindy. “What if we conjure up something that’s pure evil? You know, something that not in human form. I heard Ouija boards open doorways to hell. Or what if we awake some type of ancient curse or something?” says Rachel. “That would be a trip.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” says Cindy.
“No way, you’re both not getting out of this one. Not after the crap I went through earlier. You both scared the shit out of me. Now it is my turn,” says Tara.
“Ok, screw it, let’s do it,” says Cindy. “If something freaky happens, don’t blame me later. I don’t need any more shit in my life. Remember, we are all in this together. Best friend’s for eternity, right.” The girls all agree with Cindy.
The three girls gather around the Angel Ouija board and begin calling on the spirit of Farmer Harris. They speak together at the same time. “Spirit, spirit, we call on you. Old Man Farmer Harris, are you here? We call on the spirit of Old Farmer Harris. Come to us, are you here, spirit?”
As the girls begin to call on Farmer Harris, the wind begins to howl outside. The wind sounds like souls calling out from darkness. Rachel looks outside the window and observes the patio. She thinks she sees a figure squatting by the brick wall. Goosebumps fill her body; she shakes them off, grabs a handful of Doritos, and takes a big drink of grape soda. The girls also play ‘stiff as a board, light as a feather’ and tell the story of the farmer’s daughter. By the time night was over; the girls finally collapsed by 3:00 p.m.
The room smelt of stale cokes, popcorn, and incense. For night cap. The girls thought it would be fun to delve in a past life spirit calling. They make a story about an old Chinese railroad worker sold into railway labor. In order to protect her children, her slave contract must be fulfilled for a period of ten years. The woman died of dysentery. Unable to full fill the contract, her boys were sold to Hegang. Tara would not partake in the séance. She snuck upstairs again to het high and talk dirty with her boyfriend on Cindy’s phone.
Chapter Seven
It is Saturday morning after the sleepover. Rachel and Cindy are sitting at the dining table eating Russian pancakes and chatting about school, boys, and their hangovers from the sugar. Rachel begins gossiping about last night.
“I can’t believe all the junk we ate. I feel like we’re on drugs,” Rachel says.
“Like you know what drugs are, dork. Dork,” whispers Cindy.
“Tara is such a jerk,” says Cindy. “I can’t believe she left last night. And at 3:00 am. What a weirdo.”
“Yeah, she probably left to meet up with her stupid boyfriend,” says Rachel. “He’s such a dirtbag. How does her mother put up with him?”
Linda and Grandma mix eggs with flour, Evian water, sugar, vanilla, buttermilk then place a cube of Crisco in a pan. Grandma carefully rolls the pan with a smile on her face. The dining table is set with apricot and plum preserves from the back yard. They also enjoy sausage, bacon, fried potatoes, fresh-cut honey dew, and cantaloupe. Frank is watching the Southeastern Conference football game while pretending to read the paper. Frank is already drinking his first hangover beer.
“So, you think Tara was just stoned, or what?” Rachel asks in a whisper.
“Be quiet. Grandma will hear.”
“I know, Grandma hears everything. You say this constantly,” Rachel replies sarcastically. I want to see proof someday.
“Anyways, she wouldn’t stay out of the bathroom. At least after we went to bed.”
“Shut up,” whispers Cindy. “You’ll get us busted.” Grandma looks at Cindy and grins. “If Mom and Dad found out, they’d freak. My Mom once found an unused roach clip Tara left on the couch. She had a major’ conniption. I was grounded for a week.”
Linda walks to the dining table and places fresh squeezed orange juice for the girls, and HI-C Ecto Cooler for matt. He also must have Captain Crunch on Saturday. Matt always gets what matt wants. Sometimes, it makes the girls make fun him. Both girls’ eyes widen as they dig in. Matt runs downstairs and sits next to Rachel. Matt looks over Rachel and raises his eyebrows. "Check out my breakfast baby. This is why I’m second man down. Steve wishes he got this respect.
“Shut up Matt.” Grow up, you can be so stupid."
“Hey, Rachel, looking good today.”
Matthew lowers his voice then speaks, “Thanks, Mom, thanks, Grannie, nothing like a big hearty breakfast before I hit the gym.” Matthew flexes his bicep, then kisses it. Both Cindy and Rachel look at each other and almost spit up food laughing.
"Matt, you look like a cartoon character called super wimp.
“Yeah, Matt when Matt does is dumbass exercise in front of Mike Tyson Punch out wearing his boxing shorts. What a douchebag. Guess, it helps his retard brain.” Rachel laughs while Cindy high fives her,
“Language! Please,” says Linda as she walks to the table and sips her coffee.
“So, you girls had fun last night. What did you do?” Linda looks at Frank. Frank looks over the newspaper and mischievously smiles. Linda shakes her head.
The girls say nothing. They stay fixated on their plates and eat as quickly as possible. They fear a morning fight my break.
“Hey, honey, there’s a sale on at South Coast Plaza today. Looks like we can afford the washer, dryer, and patio furniture now.” Linda walks back towards the stove,
looks at Grandma, and pours batter in a waffle iron.
She speaks under her breathe, “Maybe we could get a lot of things if you’d stop spending money on booze and your mistress.” Grandma looks at Frank and shakes her fist.
“What did you say?” Honey.
“Nothing, honey. I was talking with Grandma.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what I thought.” The football game catches Frank’s attention as he drinks his beer.
“Catch the ball! You big pussy!” Frank shakes his head in disapproval as he forcefully shakes the newspaper. “How about those waffles, baby?”
Linda looks at her mother then looks at the frying pan. Linda has visions of taking the pan, running over to Frank, and bashing his head with it. She has many daydreams about punishing her disloyal husband. Her favorite is running him over in the driveway, then telling the police her foot slipped off the brake. Since last night, that dreaded last night, she’s never had such feelings of hatred toward Frank. Lind’s hand begins shaking.
“Waffles ready soon, honey. How do you want your eggs?”
“Same as always,” says Frank. Linda clutches her fist. The waffle iron over the head’s a better idea, she thinks. Linda looks at the kids and begins calming down. The kids remind her why she’s in this fake, loveless, ungodly marriage. Looks at the kids, then calms down. She looks at her hand, and it stops shaking. She speaks to Grandma in her native Estonian tongue.
“Take over, Mother. I’m not feeling well.” Linda looks at Frank and walks quickly up the stairs. The bedroom door shuts forcefully in the background.
Linda sits on her bed. She looks at the bloodstain on the sheet, then rubs her hands over it. She places her hands over her head and cries. Linda looks up at the pictures of her family on the walls and begins sobbing. She looks at the empty bottle of whisky on the bedstand and half smoked marijuana cigarette. She wipes the tears from her eyes, then walks to the bathroom. She turns on the water, covers her face with Noxzema, then scours her face with the hot washcloth. She looks at her crow feet under her eyes and thinks how she’s aged ten years over night. Linda opens one of the cupboard doors and take her bottle of Vicodin. She places the bottle against her face, then feverously shakes the bottle. She will need to score some dope again. If she’s doesn’t she might do something she regrets. A lawnmower starts a few houses down, and it startles her, and drops the pills all over the wood floor. “Gosh damn it.” She looks over the bottle then crawls about the floor looking for the units. Hey what do you know. She finds five extra units next to Frank’s Penthouse Magazines. This will hold her over for at least two days. She will be a bit achy, but it will help. Linda puts on her robe, then places the matching pink slippers on her feet. Well-manicured feet.
The First Culling Page 8