by Erb, Thom
“Oh, no Ms. Edna, it’s not that at all,” Bobby slipped on some ice and caught himself on Waylon’s arm. Waylon had enough of pretending, of being polite and just stared down at Bobby fighting to find solid footing.
“Oh now Mr. Garrity I’m not offended,” Ms. Edna softly touched their chins and exposed a wide yellow-toothed smile. “I did promise the treasure beyond yawls imagination after all.” She trailed her gloved finger down Waylon’s stomach and onto his belt then shot him a wink. She leaned in close, gently pressing Bobby to the side.
“Your Daddy misses you and told me to tell y’all, he’s sorry,” her breath was colder in his ear than the freezing rain falling all around them. He froze. Then every inch of his body tingled and went numb.
“Wha...?” Waylon muttered, letting Bobby fall into the cold slush at his feet.
“Sussh, I can help you talk to your Daddy Waylon,” Ms. Edna purred. “Beyond these humble wooden gates, lies all that you seek young man.” She offered Bobby a thin hand and the chubby picker took it and was surprised at the strength that aided him to his feet.
Waylon caught Knost off to his right, half hiding behind the rusted out carcass of a ’73 Plymouth Barracuda. Through the veil of cold rain, the thought he caught tears in the stout man’s round eyes.
“Oh, come, follow me gentlemen, I will now deliver as I have promised,” Ms. Edna swiftly turned and unlocked the large gates and flung them open with great ease, sending a snow and wet slush flying in all directions.
Waylon and Bobby stood before the sprawled open gates and peered inside. The sky was darker beyond the wooden palisades and a wisp of lilac flit on the crisp air. Ms. Edna sauntered forward, motioning for them to follow. They responded, almost hypnotized.
“Ah…uh… agg... Mr. Wayl…,” Knost cried out from behind and grabbed Waylon by the belt loop. Waylon spun around but before he could respond, Ms. Edna was right there, between them.
“Oh my sweeties pay no never mind to Knost here, he’s a bit excitable.” Her words seemed cold as stone, but her thin-lipped smile never faltered. “Y’all go on ahead, I’ll catch right up,” She motioned yonder with her thin arm forward.
Bobby got to his feet, smiled at Waylon, and yanked him inside the large fence. Waylon gave one look back and saw Ms. Edna grab Knost by the quivering shoulder and backhand him. His quivering frame slithered onto the snow covered ground. Ms. Edna caught Waylon watching and shot him a wide smile. He turned quickly and kept following his picking partner into the darkness.
They followed Ms. Edna through a maze of the strange statues and the daylight scattered the further along they went. After a few long minutes, they came into a clearing. All around them were tall stone statues. Waylon stood in awe as he looked around the dimly lit circle and there must have been over one hundred of the stone status. Many in heroic poses and others were beautiful women holding cherub-like children to their bosom. It reminded him of the apple orchards back home. Waylon shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The myriad of statues seemed to be staring at their new visitors.
“Oh, Ms. Edna, it looks like it’s getting dark, maybe we should call it a day,” Waylon’s teeth chattered together.
“Ah come on Wayl, we’ve come this far, I’m thinking our good host is about to show us the good stuff,” Bobby’s eyes popped wide behind the thick lenses of his glasses.
“My Lord Mr. Lafford, I promised you a treasure and a true treasure you shall have,” Ms. Edna’s breath hung in the crisp air as if resting on an old rusty clothes hanger. Her long, thin arms were outstretched, her deep-set eyes stayed focused on Waylon, and her wide yellow smile made his heart skip.
“Well if you follow me only a bit more my lovely gentlemen, I shall deliver on my promise,” Ms. Edna batted her spider-like eyelashes at Waylon and tugged gently on Bobby’s multi-colored scarf. He smiled back at Waylon and followed her deeper into the orchard of stone.
Waylon was left standing alone amongst the staring statues and although everything in his mind screamed to not follow the bat-shit crazy old lady, the leering shadows of the circle forced his booted feet to follow them into the darkness beyond the orchard.
The shadows and the freezing sleet increased the further along Waylon followed them. He could hear the slow drawl of the old lady and an occasional, ‘Yes ‘em.” From Bobby and he just shook his head. That guy is dumber than a box of rocks, he thought as he slowly followed the footprints on the snow and slush.
“Ah hell. Who’s the bigger fool? The idiot who leads or the dipshit that follows?” Waylon asked himself and shivered again at the thought of the answer.
He begrudgingly trudged on, continuingly flanked by the haunting stone statues all the way. The darkness ruled and he slowed down to a creep. He stopped fast. He heard a voice. A familiar voice coming from further on down the path. Only the resting snow offered its ambient light. He shook his drenched red hair and cold rain flew from it and slapped at the statues surrounding him.
He heard it again. That…that voice his breathing sped up.
“Dad?” He shouted. His voice startled him as it echoed off his stone escorts.
He looked around for the source of the sound. A howling wind whipped down the path and kicked up snow that licked and tore at his exposed skin.
The calling words came again.
“Dad? Is…is that, you?” Waylon ignored the harsh wind and sleet.
“It’s just me bro,” Bobby’s usual annoying cheerful words came from ahead, followed by his equally annoying laugh.
Waylon wiped the tears from his eyes before they could freeze and slapped himself in the head.
“God damn sentimental sonofabitch. You’re letting that old witch get in your head,” Waylon chastised and cleared the icicles from his thick mustache. He flipped the bird to the stone watchers and headed toward his picking pal’s excitable voice. His fear now gone, taking its place was his own self-loathing. He ignored the darkness and the whipping wind.
He only made it twenty feet and rounded the left turn of the path when the voice came again. He stopped. It was so real. So…Dad.
“Waylon, stop being such a pansy,” His Dad’s voice cut through the surging winter storm.
“Mmm…umm. Dad? Is that you?” Waylon called out.
“Yes son, it is. But what in the hell are ya doing moping around in the goddamn snow? ”
“But Dad…this place, its. Freak…”
“Ah bullshit boy! This place is ripe for the pickin’ what the hell ya doing just holding your prick?”
“Uh, yesss.sss.ir,”
“Now get your dumbass up there with that fat ass partner of yours and get to gettin’!” The voice faded with the wailing winter winds and left Waylon standing alone in the darkness of the path.
Waylon shook his head and stared at his cold surroundings. Neither the darkness nor the eerie statues offered any answers. He took a deep breath and followed the path until it came into a large clearing. Once there, he stopped as he took the chilly scene in.
“Welcome young Waylon,” Ms. Edna stood before a large fountain. It was as wide as the length of the cargo van and the ornately carved marble work reached at least twenty feet into the dark stormy air. Etched into the marble were haunting shapes and devilish grins of creatures Waylon had never seen or dreamt of. Rolling water spewed from the mouth of a stone demon and it filled the deep watery pool below it. All the hell spawned carved creatures seem to be caught in a knowing laugh and pointed toward the steaming reservoir.
“What in the hell is…this?” Waylon stepped into the clearing, his arms held out wide.
“Isn’t this the coolest shit you’ve ever seen bro?” Bobby startled him as he approached from off to his right.
“Uh, I...uh. What the hell is it?”Waylon grasped Bobby by the shoulder and pointed at the large fountain and the crazy old lady standing before it.
“It’ the pick of a lifetime bro,” Bobby grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the edge of the fountai
n.
“Why, I’m a lady of my word Waylon.” Ms. Edna grinned. “This is what I promised your charming young lady. The treasure beyond your imagination.” She reached up and kissed Waylon on the cold cheek. He recoiled.
“Yeah bro. this is a Fountain of Wishes,” Bobby punched him in the arm and giggled like a giddy schoolgirl. “Think what this sucker will fetch on the open market,” he nodded.
“Your friend is oh so right,” Ms. Edna slithered up to Waylon and whispered into his ear. Her moist tongue lapping at his frozen lobe.
“I…don’t understand,” Waylon stood caught in the moment.
“It’s quite simple skraeling,” her image flickered in the glow from the enchanted fountain and Waylon thought he caught a glimpse of an angular man’s face, but before he could look again it was the wrinkled old woman’s visage that glared back at him.
“Just make a wish and it will come true,” The old woman’s voice bore deep into his mind. He couldn’t move.
“What? I just…I, don’t understand...” He gasped.
“Stop being a pansy boy. It’s simple. Make a wish. I miss ya son,” His Dad’s voice filled the clearing. However, it seemed only he could hear it. Bobby stood next to him, dipping his pudgy finger into the cool water.
“Any wish your grief filled heart can imagine can be granted. All you have to do is offer a tribute and utter the words and your wish will become reality.” Ms. Edna’s flickering form whispered into Waylon’s quivering ear.
From the fountain appeared images. Memories of his childhood. Of his father teaching him how to play catch. How to shoot a gun and hunt deer. Sporadic images of Sunday morning breakfasts with his Dad and his Grandma flashed and filled his sorrow-filled heart. A splash of water created an image of his mother sitting at their table crocheting one of her beautiful Afghans. Tears fell from his chilly face and he dropped to his quivering knees. Before he hit the snow-covered ground, the flicker form of Ms. Edna appeared next to him. Man or woman? Waylon couldn’t discern, nor did he care. His heart was as heavy as any old car he’d ever picked.
“You should have been here boy,” His father’s voice barraged his mind.
“But...Dad...” He cried.
“I died alone.”
Ms. Edna wrapped her cold arm around his trembling shoulder and whispered into his ear.
“All can be mending young Waylon. Make a wish and you will be reunited with your Mother and father,” The words bore deep into his grief-filled soul.
“I…uh... what do… I.” He asked Ms. Edna, whose images flashed between her old form and that of a young handsome man.
“The fountain asks for an offering,” she purred and pointed her twig like finger up at Bobby who was ecstatically caressing the fountain like a long lost lover.
Waylon gazed into the old woman’s shark-like eyes and the world seemed to swirl, darkness pierced his soul, grief tore at him, and it felt as if a thousand demons were feasting. Penetrating voices filled his mind. His father and mother cried out to him for help. Their sorrow filled words ripped at him as other voices crept in. Low and monotonous chanting over and over again. Blood for Blood… Kill him. The command kept pounding at his temples, mixed with the desperate pleading of his mother and father.
The old woman’s ice cold hand clinched down upon his shoulder and yanked him to his feet and shoved him toward Bobby and Fountain. Before he knew it, he was grabbing his best friend and lifting him over his head with inhuman strength.
“Wayl, what the hell bro? What are ya?” Bobby’s screamed into the cold night. And the next sound he heard was that of Bobby’s large body splashing into the steaming fountain. Tears immediately swelled Waylon’s eyes shut.
“Do not weep my Skraeling child.” Ms. Edna’s form stopped flickering.
“Wh... what is a Skrael-? Waylon sobbed.
A bright flash of light lit the clearing Waylon to shade his crying eyes.
“Bah, I forget how ignorant you children of Midgard, oh, um children of earth…are.” The form of the old woman was gone. It now was of a young blonde male in a leather tunic, juggling golden apples.
“Skraeling mean weak, frail and that is just what you humans indeed are.” The tall figure let out a mocking laugh that echoed off the numerous statues surrounding them.
What Waylon wiped the tears and looked at the fountain. Its clear waters now replaced by blood. Pieces of Bobby’s flesh floated on the crimson surface. Ivory bones jutted out of the viscous pool.
“Wha...What have I…?” Waylon’s words were lost in the maelstrom of the winter storm.
“Oh my dear Waylon,” The young man knelt down and grabbed Waylon’s quivering face in his hands.
“Let me introduce myself.” The wide smirk on the young man’s face brought madness to Waylon’s swirling mind. He felt his skin turning cold and muscles constrict and seize
“Some call me Loki, You can call me, Master!” the blonde visage took a bite from the golden apple and the last image Waylon witnessed was the god of chaos sardonic smile and he heard his terrified scream as his flesh turned to stone and he joined the other pickers in the orchard of statues.
- Epilogue -
Bridget’s Rav4
Stow, Ohio. 7: 45 am.
“Okay Bobby, this is the damn twentieth message I’ve left. I’m heading out for North Carolina now. I’m worried about you guys,” Bridget hung the cell phone up, shifted the blue car into drive, and headed south.
The Unfortunate Case of CarlEton Meeks
The Unfortunate Case of Carleton Meeks
Carleton Meeks shrugged off the cold rain and opened the door to Jake’s Bar and Grill. The smell like of greasy food, stale beer and B.O., filled the small bar. He walked past a group of local muck farmers that sat at the short oak bar. They laughed raucously as Carleton passed, his long pony tail swayed with every step. He grimaced, as ‘Whiskey For My Men, Beer For My Horses” blasted over the crackling old jukebox speakers. He hated this bar and this Podunk town, but he had nowhere else to go.
He made his way through the dark bar filled with day labor migrant workers and sweaty, shit smelling farmers loading up on Genesee Cream Ale and Jack Daniels.
“Ah man, here he comes guys,” Ronnie said, elbowing Jared in the ribs, to get his attention from the barmaid’s large breast that were bursting out of her green top. Donovan put down the current Dragon Magazine, looked back over his shoulder only to return, shaking his head and took another swig from his Bud. Jared chuckled, rubbing his ribs.
“Better get your hip waders boys.” Ronnie continued. “There’s just no telling how deep it’s gonna get.”
The three friends watched and laughed from the corner booth, as Carleton made his way to them.
Carleton walked passed the bar, where several farmers sat and bitched about the rainy weather. Next to them, a tall man in a black trench coat and fedora sat sipping a whiskey on the rocks.
Jared pushed his long hair back and wiped the beer from his goatee. “Yeah, no shit. I wonder which one of his ‘Uncles’ died and left him a gazillion bucks this week?” Laughter erupted as Carleton approached them.
“Or, what secret missions he did when he was a Green Beret in the first Gulf War.” Ronnie added and they chuckled.
“Ah come on guys, he isn’t that bad. He just wants us to like him.” Donovan offered and they nodded their heads in agreement and quieted their laughter, as Carleton approached.
“Hey guys, what’s shakin’?” Carleton asked, taking off his leather jacket and hanging it on the coat hook attached to the booth.
“Ah, same ol, same ol Carleton. What’s new with you man?” Jared asked. He tried to cover up the laughter. Carleton didn’t even notice. They were his friends and they looked up to him, or so he thought.
“You’ll never guess what happened to me today, man?” Carleton asked. He sat down next to Donovan, grinning from ear to ear. They all shrugged their shoulders. “Well, you know about the novel I’ve been working on, right?
” Carleton said with wide-eyed excitement.
The other eyes at the table had all they could do not to roll when the tale began to be spun.
“Oh yeah,” Donovan said.
“Yeah the fantasy novel about the Vikings and all that?” Jared chortled.
“Yes, that’s the one. Well I’ve been posting excerpts online for a couple months now and I just got an email from Random House and they want to publish it. They’re talking a $30,000 advance. Can you freaking believe it, man?” Carleton was almost standing and shouting as he spilled his good news all over his not so impressed friends.
A few tense moments passed as the group of friends shot looks back and forth to one another and then their roar of laughter filled the bar. Carleton swallowed hard and plowed ahead, explaining the details of his new lucrative book deal.
The lanky man at the bar swiveled off his stool, his ankle length leather coat flapped about him as he walked toward Carleton’s booth. His gait was strong and purposeful. He walked pass the raucous table and smiled at them. His face was hidden by the black fedora, tilted over the right side of his face. With him came a cold breeze that made everyone in the bar shiver. He sat in the empty booth directly behind Carleton and his rambunctious friends. Jared gave the dark stranger and nod. The others lowered their faces into their drinks.
“So, uh Carleton, what are you going to with all of that money? Ronnie asked.
“Yeah man, are you gonna buy that new Harley you’ve been geekin’ about?” Jared added with a muffled chuckle.
Carleton could feel the sarcasm. He had always felt it, but seemed to be able to ignore it. He knew the words that came out of his mouth were bullshit. He just couldn’t help himself. He knew he was destined for great things, they just hadn’t happened yet. Besides, the guys were envious of his stories and they looked up to him for all of his worldly adventures and vast array of experiences. Or so he wanted to believe. He had gone too far over the years to turn back know. The pressure inside him grew. He felt his face turn red hot. His heart pounded in his chest. The guys didn’t believe his latest tale. Each lie he told grew grander and more outlandish. He needed something big. Something that would grab them and really make them believe that he was something, somebody.