by Dale Young
He read a few more paragraphs while continuing to look at the pictures. All of the people looked poor as dirt and Logan still wondered how the term “golden leaf” could be related to their lives.
When Logan got to the back of the book, to the portion which chronicled the middle of the 20th century, he noticed that things had greatly improved for the farmers. Tobacco by that time was wildly popular and farmers were making a very good living growing it. Machinery had made it easier but it was still hard work. On a page entitled “the government and the golden leaf” Logan learned that the government regulated how much tobacco could be planted, and that only farmers who had a government-issued allotment could plant it. This caused profits for farmers to be even higher since only those with a tobacco allotment could grow it and then sell it at the market. And North Carolina, Logan learned, produced more tobacco than any state in the country.
Amazed that he had been born and raised in North Carolina and that all of this tobacco stuff was news to him, Logan closed the book and frowned. He didn’t smoke and neither had his parents when they had been alive. It wouldn’t have mattered if they had smoked, Logan thought, because they had both died young anyway. His father had died in a car wreck and his mother had died several years after that from some sort of liver problem. Logan had only been twenty-five years old when his mother had passed leaving him to carry on all by himself.
Logan felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of this. His parents had not left him much, and once everything had been settled all that was left was enough money to buy his old trailer and a few used cars to start his business. There had been no life insurance and the bank had taken the house. It had been a struggle for Logan ever since. Over five years of hard work and he had little to show for it. His car lot had grown slightly and for right now his head was above water, but Logan never knew what tomorrow would bring so he had quit worrying about tomorrow years ago. He took life one day at a time.
Snapping out of his reverie, Logan suddenly remembered the town of Starlight. He reopened the book and flipped to the index. He ran his finger down the page and found the town listed on page 285.
He found the page and was greeted by several more photos of people working in the fields of tobacco. At the top of the page was an outline of the state of North Carolina, with a small red dot denoting the location of Starlight. It was on the banks of the Skeleton River in the middle of the eastern portion of the state. From the photos on the page it was easy for Logan to surmise that Starlight was nothing more than just a small tobacco town in the middle of nowhere.
The photos on the page looked like most of the other photos in the book, grainy and black and white. There were people working the fields, large carts full of tobacco leaves being pulled by mules and several photos of small barns with smoke coming out of the chimneys. Logan noticed there were lots of children in the photographs picking tobacco out in the hot summer sun. They looked tired and worn out, just like the adults did. Logan figured that back in those days the whole family had to work just to be able to survive, and the kids in the photos looked none too happy about it.
He read the captions of the photographs and some of the text on the page. It mainly talked about how tobacco had put Starlight on the map and that almost everyone in town was connected to it whether they actually grew it or not.
Several of the photos showed the small main street area of Starlight and two other photos showed large antebellum homes that Logan knew were probably over a hundred and fifty years old. Apparently someone in the town had some money, Logan thought as he looked at the homes. The last photo on the page, taken in the 1950’s portrayed Starlight as a nice little country town with just enough people living in it to keep it going.
All of this information about Starlight now led Logan to the obvious question – what in the hell did the town have to do with him? Why had some lost relative that he had never met named him as the sole beneficiary in her will? Who was she? Had his parents known about her? If they did, they had certainly never let on to him that she existed. Why? Logan had no answers.
He got up and put the book back on the shelf. Then he walked over to where the maps were located. He pulled a road atlas off the shelf and it didn’t take him long to find the town of Starlight on the page containing the state of North Carolina. The atlas was dated 1963.
Just as the other book had indicated, Starlight was nestled on the banks of the Skeleton River, a river that Logan had never heard of. To Logan’s relief Starlight looked like it would be less than a few hours’ drive from Wilmington. None of the major highways were close to the town, so he knew that he would have to travel along the back roads to get there.
Logan took the atlas to the desk and checked it out after filling out the short form to get a library card.
5
September, 1941
William Sparks moved quickly through the tobacco field, a cane pole in one hand and a small bucket full of chicken livers in the other. He was young, in his late teens, and even though he was tired from picking tobacco all day with his family he still wanted to do a little catfishing before he turned in for the night. The rest of his brothers had already gone to bed, and he had promised his mother that he would only be gone for an hour or two. She had fussed at him, reminding him that he needed his sleep so that he could work the fields tomorrow, but had then reluctantly agreed that maybe a little catfishing would be the best way for him to take the edge off of another long day in the hot sun. William was her oldest and as such she often let him do things that his younger brothers were not allowed to do. And after all, what kind of life was it for young man like him to just work the fields from dawn to dusk?
William’s mother knew that the world was a dark place and getting worse by the day. She had seen the newsreels about what was going on in Europe and she feared that all of her boys would be called to service if the United States got involved in the war. This wore heavy on her heart as she stood at the window of the sharecropper house and watched William as he moved down the edge of the field towards the river. The harvest moon gave off enough light that she could see him, as well as the bank of the Skeleton River in the distance.
William knew better than venture into the field on his way to the river. He smiled when he looked up at the moon, remembering how his dad had always told him that catfish bite better under a harvest moon. He shrugged off the stories he had heard after moving to town with his family about what sometimes happens in the tobacco fields around Starlight under the light of a harvest moon. Tonight he kept his mind on the catfish and the big five pounder that he knew was waiting on him in the river. Maybe his bucket of chicken livers would do the trick. He knew that catfish loved chicken livers the way he loved his mama’s chicken pot pie.
His father had planted the tobacco almost right up to the edge of the riverbank. Once William reached the river, he stepped onto the small clearing that ran from the tobacco down to the water not more than twenty feet away. He was pleasantly surprised to find the soil of the riverbank solid instead of the muddy mess he had encountered several weeks ago when he had last gone fishing. That trip had yielded no catfish but William had a plan tonight to make sure that didn’t happen again. Tonight he was going to try a new fishing hole. This one was just a ways down the river bank where an old tree had fallen over into the water. He figured that it wouldn’t hurt if he walked down the riverbank until he got to that fishing hole. What difference would it make as long as he stayed out of the tobacco field?
William walked quietly down the riverbank, his cane pole by his side along with his pale of chicken livers. They were beginning to stink, and he knew this was like ringing the dinner bell for a big catfish. The worse the bait smelled the better, and William just knew that tonight would be the night and that he would catch a catfish large enough to feed his entire family.
The light of the harvest moon reflected off of the mirror-like surface of the Skeleton River as William walked down the riverbank. The light was bright enough t
hat his body cast a shadow on the ground in front of him. The night was beginning to cool and William felt a shiver run down his back and he chided himself for not bringing his matches. A small fire on the riverbank would be just the ticket on a crisp September night like tonight.
William tried to force himself to look out over the river as he walked down the bank. But he couldn’t help but glance over at the tobacco plants bathed in the light of the harvest moon. Most of them were almost bare, save for the few leaves near the top of the plants. The harvest was almost complete.
William stopped when he got to the large oak tree that had fallen over into the river. The tree marked the fishing hole that he was looking for. He knew the big cats liked to lie on the bottom near the submerged tree limbs. All he had to do was bait his hook and get one of those smelly, bloody chicken livers into the water and he was bound to catch something in no time at all.
William sat down on a small log someone had cut and left on the bank. It made the perfect seat. The light from the moon was bright enough that he could easily see to bait his hook. He reached into his bucket and removed two chicken livers. He speared each of them with his hook and then lifted his cane pole in the air. He gave the bait a gentle toss and watched as it splashed about twenty feet from the shore. Perfect, he thought to himself. Now all he had to do was be patient.
About fifteen minutes passed before William felt a bite on the end of his line. He knew better than to yank his pole right away. The trick was to let the catfish take the bait into its mouth first. William knew that once the catfish did this that it would lie there for sometimes as much as thirty minutes just sucking on the bait. When the catfish decided to move off to another spot, that was when William knew would be the best time to pull his rod and hook the fish.
A cool breeze sifted through the tobacco plants in the field behind William. He turned his head and looked at the plants bathed in the yellow light of the harvest moon. Just then he thought he heard a voice, just a whisper as the wind slid across the river and into the fields behind him. The breeze caused him to shiver but he shook it off. He was a young man, he thought to himself, and a young man didn’t need a coat until it got cold enough to snow. He turned his attention back to his pole, sure that his big catfish would run with his bait at any moment.
William heard another whisper from the field behind him. He turned his head quickly to try and see where it was coming from. Maybe it was his brother playing a joke on him, he thought. That would be just like him. He had done that last month and nearly scared William out of his skin after sneaking up behind him when he was fishing on the riverbank late one night. William remembered how embarrassed he had been after he screamed like a girl when his brother grabbed him from behind.
The only thing William could see were the tobacco plants, their remaining leaves gently swaying in the light breeze. Then he heard it again. It was definitely a human voice, and William knew immediately that his brother had to be up to his old tricks again.
“I’ll teach Jimmy a damn lesson this time. Trying to sneak up on me through the fields, I’ll show him.”
William laid his cane pole down on the riverbank and propped the end of it on a large rock near the water’s edge. Then he stood and looked at the tobacco field. He knew that his brother was crazy to try to sneak up on him through that field, but William knew his brother was not known for being very smart. It would be just like him to ignore the warnings about the field. Everyone in town knew better than to go into that tobacco field during the night of the harvest moon. The talk around town was that two people had already been murdered in the fields over the years.
William walked to the edge of the plants. His sudden desire to whip his brother’s ass for trying to sneak up on him was suddenly tempered by the voice of his mother warning him, as she had all her boys, about the field. But William knew that he had to teach his brother a lesson. And William realized that if his brother really was in the field then it was his responsibility to get him out as fast as he could, ass whipping or not.
Against his better judgment William stepped into the row of tobacco plants directly in front of him. He would find his brother and then they would get the hell out of the field and back to the fishing hole. William looked back at his pole one more time and then began to walk across the rows of tobacco plants towards the middle of the field, stepping between the plants as he went.
“Jimmy, come on out. I know it’s you. We need to get out of this field. Mom will tan our hides if she finds out about this. Come on out!”
William tried to keep his voice low but strong enough so that his brother could hear him. The tobacco plants were only about waist high so William knew his brother was probably crouched down just a few rows over and would pounce on him at any moment. As soon as he did that, William planned on dragging his brother out of the field and back down to the riverbank. Maybe by then the big catfish would be ready to run and they could pull him in and go home.
“Jimmy! Come on… Joke’s over.”
A strong breeze suddenly rolled through the field causing all of the tobacco plants to sway in unison. William waited for his brother to stand up and try to scare him, but Jimmy did not appear. William began to worry. Perhaps his brother was not in the field after all. And if he wasn’t, then William knew he had made a terrible mistake.
William stopped in the row and stood completely still. He scanned the sea of yellow-gold leaves glowing softly in the moonlight. As the breeze died down the leaves of the tobacco plants stopped dancing and became eerily still. William felt Goosebumps rise across his arms.
Fear washed through William’s abdomen as he realized that his brother was not in the field. What had he been thinking? William knew it had been hard enough for him to convince his mother to let him go fishing tonight much less let his younger brother out of the house. His mother would have never allowed that, and William knew that his brother Jimmy would not have dared sneak out of the house without asking. He knew that Jimmy would get their father’s belt for doing something like that.
William knew he needed to get out of the field and back to the riverbank. That was the shortest route to safety. He began to move down the row as quickly as he could, trying to watch his step in the dark shadows between the plants. Then he turned and cut through a row of plants and headed straight for the point where he had entered the field. Suddenly it seemed that the moon was not nearly as bright as it had been just a few minutes before, but William knew this was just his imagination. Terror was clawing at his insides and he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly.
Suddenly William lost his balance when he stepped in a low spot in a row, causing him to fall face first into the dirt between the plants. He cursed to himself as he got up on his hands and knees while spitting the sandy soil out of his mouth. He knew better than to run so fast down the row.
William felt a little safer now that he was hidden in the shadows down between the tobacco plants. He took a moment to catch his breath and then he began to feel sick to his stomach. He wiped his face with his hand and then sat back on his heels. He did not hear the rustling of the tobacco leaves as the dark figure moved down the row towards him.
The blade of the tobacco axe cut through the chilled air and buried itself into William’s back, just between his shoulder blades. He screamed out in agony as his head jerked to the rear. Then he fell forward before rolling onto his back. It was then that he saw the killer silhouetted against the moonlit sky.
Before William could raise his arms, the sharp blade flashed in the moonlight as it descended towards his face, cutting into the bridge of his nose and splitting his head like a melon. Death came instantly. The blade continued to rise and fall violently until William’s body was chopped into a bloody mass of flesh. Just as with the previous victims, the killer was not satisfied with merely taking a life. Full of rage, and with an insatiable desire for revenge, the killer always chopped and hacked the victims with the tobacco axe until not even the family could recognize the bo
dy.
It was over as quickly as it started. The killer moved away from William’s lifeless body as another strong breeze rolled across the field. Down by the riverbank, the tip of William’s pole began to twitch and jerk. Suddenly the entire pole was dragged into the river as the big catfish took off with the bait, leaving only the bucket of chicken livers to mark the spot where William Sparks had fished for the last time in his life.
6
2014
When Logan left the library the rain had stopped. The sky above was dark but the distant horizon burned a fiery orange. The storm had cleared and the air was scented with the smell of hot asphalt and rainwater. Logan thought that maybe tonight he would use his grill again. He remembered that he had half a pack of hot dogs in his refrigerator and that a couple of them cooked on his grill would be a nice supper. It wasn’t sirloin, but it was the next best thing as far as he was concerned. He was just too tired to stop at the grocery store.
Once back at the trailer park Logan was dismayed to see the lights out in Lowell’s trailer. He knew Lowell made good money when he was at sea and Logan figured that Lowell had probably decided to take his wife out on the town to celebrate his return home. Logan chuckled when he thought about Lowell’s wife opening the door to their trailer to call for her husband. With that business taken care of Logan figured that now Lowell and his wife were probably at one of the seafood pubs down by the beach eating steamed shrimp and drinking beer. Logan felt a pang of loneliness when he thought of Lowell and his wife out on the town for the night. He envied Lowell for having someone.
Logan removed the hot dogs from the crisper and laid them on the counter. He went out to start his grill and then realized he had left the bag of charcoal outside last night and the bag was now soaked from the rain. He cursed and went back in the house. He would just have to settle for boiling the hot dogs on the stove.