The Mark (Weeping Willow Book 2)

by Steven Evans

  I grew up watching all the horror movies that take place in isolated, time forgotten, shithole, infested towns like these, so, needless to say, I was ready to piss my pants walking up to the front door. I could barely keep my hand headed toward the door; it was gyrating so badly back and forth. It would’ve made one Hell of a paint mixer though. Anxiety and fear filled my head as I wondered if I’d be greeted by “Leather Face” or some other cannibalistic monster not seen or heard of before. Not heard of, that is, until my stupid ass came knocking on its door.

  As the commotion of things falling and being dragged resonated from inside, and the groans and deep heavy breathing could be heard nearing the door, I sensed my bravery was about to abandon me and leave me stranded alone on this porch to become some creature’s main course tonight.

  My fears were eased as an old man appeared. He was average in every aspect. The only thing that stood out was how blue and amazing his eyes were, so bright and full of life. The rest of his body failed in comparison. Time was a cruel mistress, and age had ravaged his mobility. His body was withered, and he needed a cane to balance on as he took steps. Speaking took all his energy.

  He looked me up and down, trying to figure out who I was by the clothes I wore. This took a while since his movements were slow and accompanied by many joints popping and cracking. His movements seemed to be well thought out. Finally, the uncomfortable silence was broken.

  He said, “Son, are you lost?”

  “No sir,” I said. “I’m just trying to track down someone. Not sure if I’m even in the right place.”

  “Well, if you keep it to yourself, I can’t help you.”

  I was still thrown off by his appearance, thinking that surely this man couldn’t be “Leather Face”, could he?

  I shook my head and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, keep what to myself?”

  “Son, I can’t tell you if you’re at the right place unless you say who you’re looking for.” His eyes sparkled, and a smile passed his chapped lips as he said, “Let’s have it. Who is the lucky person being sought after by you?”

  With a quizzical look smeared across my face, I said, “His name is Adder Lewis, but I have to confess that I don’t know him.”

  “You found him,” he said. “So, what brings you to the sticks?” He began a series of baby steps, making a trip to the table. “Come on. Sit down, and spill the beans!”

  He tried to push a chair in my direction, but its stubbornness to remain in place overpowered his abilities. I walked over, pulled out the chair, and sat. I started explaining everything: how the townspeople acted strangely and so set in their ways, how only a few would speak, about the warning or threat to leave town before the storm arrives, and finally about what happened last night with Mr. Harte and James.

  He sat there looking at me for the longest time. It was clear that he still didn’t know exactly what to think of me or what I really wanted. He suddenly became determined to jump to his feet. He completed the move after a couple of minutes. He gave me a quick glance and turned toward the door.

  He said, “Think we need a drink. Seems you’re in a talking mood, and I’ll need something to wet my lips if you expect me to join the conversation. You want anything?”

  “Yes sir, that’d be good. I’ll take just whatever you have-- tea, water, or soda.”

  I sat there waiting for him to return and wondered if he could even handle two drinks. I didn’t think this old man could answer my questions or clear up any confusion I had, but he was all I had right now, and I was not willing to give up yet. It was nice having someone who wanted to talk to me though. I’d gotten used to the unfriendly people in town turning their backs to me and avoiding eye contact, so this was a welcomed change of pace.

  A snail could’ve lapped him, as fast as his unsteady legs were carrying him.

  He handed me a half-full glass of tea and said, “Well, it was full when I started. You know, age has a way of putting you in your place. Just when you think you have it all figured out and things are well in hand…you don’t. Your strength is the first thing that lets you down. Then major tremors work their way through your body, top to bottom and back again.” He smiled as he said, “I used to like my Martinis stirred, but now I have to settle for shaken.”

  Though I tried to keep it in, my laughter blurted out, and I quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh at that, but even you have to admit, that Martini line was pretty funny.”

  He winked at me. “It’s alright. That’s my go-to line when the tension gets too thick. Besides, if you can’t have a good chuckle at your own expense, who can you laugh at? It’s sad enough when you age and start to lose your senses, but if you lose your humor, everything else is soon to follow. Losing your sense of humor is almost as bad as not being able to perform in bed anymore! Yes sir, that’s the only fate worse than dying-- no sense of humor.”

  His eyes lit up, and he was nearly stretched out flat on the table and out of breath as his laughter had over powered him. I said, “I’d have to agree with you on that.”

  “Well, Son, what is it you want to know?”

  “Mr. Lewis, this town is crazy! I was told I would never be accepted and should just leave. Then they talk about these storms like there’s some supernatural force driving them, like they’re being fed by a dark force. What is up with all this… this craziness?”

  He sat there a while, and I could tell he was forming a strategy on how to approach the subject.

  He said, “Okay, Son, here it is in a nutshell! About the town and its inhabitants: yes, they are a bit strange, but you have to understand something. Long ago they came together in this place and almost immediately chose to lock themselves away from the outside world, a world that had turned them away at every stop, a world that had all but slammed every single door in their faces. They felt that building their own community, giving support to each other, looking after their own kind, and defending their way of life and religious beliefs from any outside interference was the only option they had. Who could blame them after the blind persecutions they faced throughout the country?

  But, as luck would have it, when they closed themselves off from the cultures and societies they believed had wronged them so unjustly, those very same cultures and societies merely forgot they ever existed.”

  “Mr. Lewis, I’ve read the town history. I just don’t understand how it’s still relevant today.”

  “Now I’m not making excuses for them, but it’s hard to see their peculiarities and break through the barriers and walls when you don’t know why those walls and barriers were built in the first place.

  These people were born and raised with these values. They were set in their ways, bound to be skeptical of anything pertaining to the outside world, and I can’t foresee that ever changing. But, like every story, there are always two sides to it.”

  I said, “That’s all fine, and while I may not understand it, I do accept it. As I said, I’ve done some research, and I know the difficult circumstances they faced. I respect them for not running off or giving up and for being so stubborn to stick it out no matter what was thrown at them, but it still falls short in explaining their odd behavior hundreds of years later! Surely that mistrust was bred out long ago.”

  He just shook his head, wiped his brow, and said, “There is no explanation, and you will probably never fully understand. Hell, I’ve been here my whole life and still can’t figure out some of their eccentricities.”

  I tried to debate further, but his chin was bouncing off his chest, and sounds began bellowing out from somewhere deep in his gut. I stood up, wanting to leave quietly so that I didn’t disturb his nap, but my chair screeched across the loose planks and jarred his eyes wide open.

  “I’m sorry,” I squeaked, “didn’t mean to wake you. I was just trying to sneak out.”

  “Don’t worry; it’s ok. I’m an old man and not always in charge of how my body wants to act. Think I will mosey on in to bed though.”


  His cane was tap dancing as he tried to steady himself.

  I asked, “Mr. Lewis, would it be alright if I stopped by another time?”

  “Son, anytime you want! The porch is always open. I don’t get many visitors these days, and it sure is nice just to have someone to sit and shoot the shit with. You know, they say you can talk to yourself, but don’t start answering yourself, or you’ve done went too far. Well, I crossed that line a long, long time ago.”

  His laughter could be heard ringing through the house as he went inside. I turned, walked down the steps, and began the arduous trip back home. With each step, I was hoping I wouldn’t get as lost on the way back as I had getting here. I finally had something to smile about and left with a sense that I had, at last, found a friend, maybe someone who could help fill in a few of the blanks surrounding this town and its people.

  Chapter Five

  Adder Explains

  Lying down that night was an uphill battle. The more ground I thought I was making, the more elusive sleep became. I was thrilled at having met Adder and couldn’t wait to talk to him again. I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve, trying to force my eyes to stay shut and begging my mind to close up shop, all in the hope of waking up in the morning to rip through the presents stacked under the tree. Only my gift was a simple conversation with an old man who couldn’t stay conscious.

  The first hint of light gleamed through the window by my bed, and a Jack-in-the-Box couldn’t have sprung up quicker. I headed to the bathroom for a shower. The water barely had time to reach my toes before I twisted the knob again. I threw on some clothes, grabbed a couple of Little Debbie cakes, and rushed out the door.

  The drive, though only a few minutes, seemed like hours. I couldn’t believe how excited I was. I wondered if he’d be up. Surely, he was. Old folks were supposed to be up at the butt crack of dawn, weren’t they? It didn’t matter; I was almost there now. Just one more curve and then his driveway. I must have looked like a herd of stallions racing by as I pulled in, and the dust raised up like thunder clouds.

  He motioned with a little nod, but the clanging of metal slapping together almost drowned out his words.

  He said, “Been expecting you! Don’t get around too early, do you? You must be one of those night owls, huh?” He was teasing me as a playful grin spread across his face.

  I snapped back, “Careful Father Time. Don’t smile too much. It might put a permanent crack in your boyish good looks. Besides, some of us don’t take power naps through…” I drew my head towards my chest and started to snore “… out the day.”

  We both laughed, and as I reached the table, we shook hands.

  Pointing at the full glasses of tea already poured and waiting, he said, “See, I thought ahead today. I may need an extra few winks during the day, but, Son, the burden of carrying around all these manly good looks would knock an average man on his ass.”

  “Yes, sir, all that machismo must be a heavy, heavy burden. I’d say unbearable even.”

  “Would you mind scooting my glass over to me? I’ve already spent the majority of my morning just getting them here and don’t care much for a sweet tea shower.” He pulled a long straw from his pocket and said, “Gotta be ready for any situation. Now, enough with the pleasantries! What’s on your mind this beautiful morning?”

  I snagged a few quick sips and took a deep breath. “Well, I was hoping you might tell me why everyone is so uptight about these storms. From what I’ve seen, they’re nothing special-- just your common run of the mill showers.”

  “Son, you just don’t understand! You don’t get it at all! Around these parts, people have every reason to fret over the weather. Now whether or not they’re something supernatural, I don’t know, but they’re certainly nothing to thumb your nose at either.”

  “Look, it was what… maybe ten days of less-than-impressive sprinkles? I give it to ya, that wind played Hell with the juvenile bushes in my yard, but still, it was nothing to cause these psychotic episodes. I’ve seen less emotion at a Pentecostal revival than these people at the mere mention of a storm.”

  “Son, let me try to explain it to you! The town is on edge because they know these storms. Being an outsider, you don’t! They know these things, because they’ve lived with them; it’s a way of life for them. They also understand that there’s a cycle to them. This is something you haven’t witnessed yet.”

  “Mr. Lewis, it’s still not making sense!”

  “Again, let me explain!” He was looking really aggravated that I kept interrupting him. “Pour me a little more, would you? My mouth is sure getting parched from all this gum flapping!”

  I filled his cup and watched as the super-sized straw had nearly pinned him to the wall. His extreme age had almost submitted to the sheer size of the straw but his dry lips finally won the battle as they caught it like a fly on flypaper.

  He continued, “These storms aren’t what you’re used to. They have cycles– three, in fact. Each one is a little stronger and more devastating than the last. This is the way they go: the first cycle comes in sort of quiet, nothing special to speak of, as you so eloquently put it. There’s cold air mixed with a brisk wind. Then rain scatters conservatively. Then there are flashes in the sky, followed by domesticated thunder.

  The first cycle, which you took part in last week, is the mildest of the cycles. It lasts anywhere from seven to ten days and causes very little damage, if any at all. For the most part, it’s more inconvenient than anything else. Then it clears out almost like it never was here. Though everything seems fine and dandy for a couple weeks, this is more of a resting period. It’s just taking a breather to build more strength and more destructive power.”

  Unable to hide the smart-ass side digging at the coffin to be unburied I asked, “Wow, so it’s like a kitten before the lion, huh?”

  “Exactly,” he said, ignoring my contempt altogether. “Now, as I said, there are a couple weeks of calm. Then the second phase moves in.”

  I said, “Wait, with the first one, it was just a sudden change in the wind’s temperature that announced its arrival. What happens for the second one?”

  “Ok, well, I’m getting to it! That’s the trouble with kids today-- no patience! Its entrance is signaled by sudden downpours, even when there are no clouds around in the sky for miles. You may not have been won over by the first round or its lack of rain, but this next system will make a believer out of you. It’ll be floods of biblical proportions.”

  “Should I hunt down Noah and try to get a seat aboard the Ark?”

  He continued talking like I had never said anything. “The wind gains power during this time. The thunder and lightning act up a bit more, but not so much that you would really notice.”

  “So, mostly, it’s a lot of rain. Rain of Biblical proportions, huh? Sorry, but your story sounds a tad bit watered-down to me!”

  I couldn’t tell if he actually believed in this nonsense, but he sure acted like it. Was he as foolish as everyone else? Why are these people so panicked by thunder storms? There was frustration growing and filling every crevice in his wrinkle covered face, but he continued undaunted.

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but it really happens. You may not wanna listen now, but believe you me, my words will come back to chew a plug out of your ass if you don’t. Now, where… oh, yes, I remember! This phase rages on for weeks. And just suddenly disappears. As quick as it shows up, and then it’s just gone! There’s about a month of peace and quiet, but it’s far from over. It’s lying in wait, just biding its time, dormant, until it’s ready to unleash an unbiased vengeance.”

  I cut him off, “See, now you make it sound like it has a soul and a consciousness, that it’s able to think… to… to pick and choose its targets, like it’s a living entity.”

  His eyes were glaring hot coals as he said, “Son, now you’re starting to see the truth. I don’t know about a soul or living entity, but you can’t argue with facts. You know as well as I do how it sometimes
feels like a tornado has the ability to strike this house or the next, but leaves one completely untouched. Is it alive? Is it thinking for itself? I don’t know. I just don’t know!”

  “Mr. Lewis,” I said, “I know what you mean. You said there were three cycles, though, right?”

  “Yes! The third one is a violent eruption of everything: wind, rain, lightning, and thunder. The only way to describe it is… is, Hell! For about six weeks… Hell!”

  I guess he could tell I was holding back, that I really wanted to ask something else and pry deeper into the happenings associated with the storms, because he ordered, “Well, spit it out already! Nothing would ever get done if questions weren’t asked!”

  “It’s nothing really,” I shrugged. “Just, I was wondering if anyone had ever… well, uhh…”

  “Say it!” he demanded.

  “Well, if anyone has ever had strange things happen to them during one of these storms?”

  He said, “Son, what would make you ask something like that?”

  I grabbed the pitcher for another refill. I was nervous, trying to stall for time because of how everyone else had reacted when asked about the storms, and Mr. Lewis didn’t seem like he could handle much excitement.

  “What is it? What’s got you by the nads and won’t let you speak?”

  I said, “Mostly because I don’t even know if I believe it myself. Strange noises carried by the wind. Animal sounds, crying and whining, on my porch. But when I checked, nothing was there. I can still hear those pathetic moans tossed about in gusts of air. Yet nothing was ever there!”

  He said, “You better give me another swallow or two of that tea. I can see you’re further into the story than any of us imagined.”

  “I even made it a point to check around the property every morning, but there were no signs or evidence of any animals. I tried to write it off as only being the wind-- coincidences being fed by my overactive imagination-- but I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that it was real. So… has anyone ever experienced anything unusual in one of these storms?”