The Secrets of Moonshine

by Denise Daisy

  Leaning into the swing, she thought back to when she received the inspiration for this story. A vivid dream had jolted her awake at 3 a.m. one morning, its images so real that she stumbled from her bed and sleepily typed the brief synopsis. By the next morning, she had forgotten about the dream completely. A few days later, the vision of the dream invaded her mind. She read her rambling notes and dismissed them as incoherent babble.

  She read the brief synopsis again. If this was true, then possibly Falcon killed in order to protect a Prince. But how could this be? How could she have known this and written of it? And what was the tree of life; some kind of fountain of youth? Could this be what the cloaked men were guarding? Could the Bible’s mysterious Tree of Life be hidden somewhere in Moonshine?

  She shut her eyes and took in a slow, cleansing breath. She closed the file and nervously clicked on My Better Half. Once again she skipped over the short synopsis and scrolled down to her character list. Jumping off the screen were the names the girls mentioned yesterday: Adam and Alicia.

  With a trembling hand, she closed the file. The heat rose within her. How could she have written of people she had never met, nor knew existed until now?

  She closed the page and clicked on, My Brother’s Keeper, and read the synopsis once again:

  A woman is forced to face life, raising her children alone, when a tragic murder claims the life of her beloved husband…

  Nervously, Bronwyn scrolled down to view the character list, letting out a small gasp when the name Mavis appeared on the screen. Her heart pounded. How could the people in her stories be real? What did all this mean? Was Travis destined to die?

  She felt as if she would vomit at any minute. Realizing she was hyperventilating, she gasped for air. She needed to breathe; she needed to talk with someone. But who? Who could begin to understand the craziness of all this? Bethany? Maybe she should try talking with her again. This was too much to take in alone. Maybe she should talk to Marcus. Show him the files. Her stomach churned. She knew the person she must talk to, the person who hid volumes of secrets behind his dark eyes. The same person, who had pulled her to safety last night, whispered a warning before kissing her. Travis.

  Closing her laptop, she decided she would find him and demand an explanation. If not, she would threaten to write a disparaging story, revealing the location of a supposed fountain of youth, the whole world would read, blowing wide open the deep secret of Moonshine and the clandestine deeds they were hiding.

  A strong wind swept across the back lawn, toppling over chairs and vigorously ringing the chimes hanging overhead. The back screen door slammed shut, as a cold chill raced up her spine. An overwhelming feeling of terror washed over her, as an unseen presence swept across the gardens. The sudden fear was almost paralyzing.

  “Here you are!”

  Bronwyn spun around, startled at the sound of Bethany’s greeting.

  “You ok?” Bethany asked. “You look pale.”

  “I’m alright,” Bronwyn said, relieved at Bethany’s arrival on the porch. However, she still felt the malevolent presence roaming about.

  “You’re shaking!”

  “I’m cold.”

  “You’re kidding me!” Bethany laughed. “How could you be cold, it’s at least 90 degrees in the shade. Are you sick?” Bethany walked forward and placed her hand on Bronwyn’s forehead. “You feel fine. Are you sure you’re not taking some kind of meds?”

  “Damn it, Bethany! Quit asking me that. I am not nor have I ever taken anything!”

  Bethany’s eyes widened at Bronwyn’s reaction. “Alright! Calm down! I won’t ask you again. It’s just that you haven’t been yourself lately. You’re not sleeping at night. You leave the room at all hours, you have fallen from trees, and last night you fainted. Now you look terrified and are shaking. I just want to know what’s up with you.”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes, please tell me.”

  Bronwyn glanced above, remembering Mavis’ comment about her window being directly over this part of the porch.

  “Come with me.” Bronwyn led Bethany off the porch and into the gardens. Confused, Bethany followed her down the cobblestone paths until she stopped at the sixth garden. Bronwyn took a deep breath and pushed open the gate.

  “What…”

  Bronwyn held her hand up to silence Bethany. She passed the weeping willows and headed toward the open grass, where she witnessed the slaying. She focused on the spot and sighed.

  “I should have known.”

  A freshly planted tree stood where the condemned man’s death sentence had been carried out. There was no evidence of blood. The ground had been broken and the soil turned.

  “What?” Bethany repeated her question.

  Bronwyn looked about her cautiously before whispering. “Beth, I saw someone killed in this garden last night.”

  Bethany stared at Bronwyn, at a loss for words.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I saw a man get his throat slit right here. Right where this tree is. I think it was planted to cover up the spot where he bled out.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bethany said. “But I have to ask it again. Are you taking pills?”

  “Damn it Bethany! You insist I tell you things and when I do, you completely disregard it. Why do you do that?”

  Bethany suppressed a laugh. “Come on Bronwyn. You really don’t expect me to believe you witnessed a murder. I‘m not Lillian, you know.”

  “Yes, I do.” The frustration seeped in her voice. “Why wouldn’t you? Have I ever lied to you before?”

  “No. But before you weren’t...”

  Bronwyn’s eyes flared. “Weren’t what?”

  “You weren’t depressed and upset, and going through the phases of a break-up. C’mon, Bronwyn. You have to admit you‘ve not been yourself lately. Even Trent-”

  She rolled her eyes. Bethany had truly succumbed to the philosophies of Trent. “Beth!”

  “Well, sometimes he makes sense! Besides, if you did see someone get murdered, why did you wait so long to tell me? Why didn’t you wake me during the night? How could you have simply fallen back asleep after something like that?”

  She couldn’t disclose to Bethany that Travis kissed her under the willow tree. She paused a moment before offering a feeble answer: “I fainted.”

  Bethany looked intently at her, suspicion pulsing from her eyes.

  “Okay” Bronwyn sighed. “Someone grabbed me from behind and did something that caused me to lose consciousness. I woke up on the back porch swing early this morning.”

  Bethany still looked skeptical. “And you never told anyone about this? You were just going to let all of us be bludgeoned to death in our sleep?”

  “I didn’t think any of us were in danger. They could have killed me too, as an eye witness. Instead they laid me on the porch swing.”

  “And they didn’t think you would tell when you woke up?”

  Bronwyn dropped her voice to a whisper. “Mavis tried to dismiss it as a bad dream. She said I woke her during the night screaming. In her words, I was having a fitful night sleep. I think she is in on it.”

  Bethany sighed sympathetically. “In on what Bronwyn? I am sure Mavis is right. You were having a dream. I hadn’t mentioned it earlier, but I’ve noticed you have been leaving our room during the night. Maybe you’re sleepwalking again, like you did when you were a kid. Dreams can seem so real at times.”

  Bronwyn ran her fingers through her long dark tresses and surveyed the garden. The splinter in her finger was more than enough proof that what she witnessed had not been a dream. A definite cloak and dagger conspiracy was unfolding among the residents of this puzzling town. Should she dare mention the fact she was suspicious that some kind of tree of Life may be hidden somewhere in Moonshine? After all, she had not seen one senior citizen her entire stay, and no one in the town looked any older than forty. Bethany’s reaction to everything else answered that question. She couldn’t blame her for her. It d
id seem absurd to say the least. However, she knew it was very real. She would continue to keep it to herself, and only discuss it with those who knew what was truly going on. At the festival, she would search for Travis. Once she found him, she would demand answers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The girls spent extra time dressing for the whimsical festival. Lillian appeared as a mountain blossom coming to life, wearing a soft pink halter dress, cascading into several layers of powder pink and white airy fabrics. The sheerness of the fabrics would have undoubtedly been see-through, had they not been layered one over the other. Her luxurious platinum hair hung loosely down her back, with random strands of pink ribbon braided periodically throughout her massive mane. She did her makeup to its usual perfection. Silver sandals adorned her dainty feet.

  Bethany’s greatest challenge was disguising her new haircut. Lillian and Bronwyn both suggested several different styles, yet nothing seemed to work. Much to their surprise, Carla Jo entered their room with a pair of razor-sharp scissors, and quickly and artistically turned Bethany’s mullet into a classic, stylish bob. Even though Bethany grieved over losing her long locks, she much preferred the bob to the hideous mullet. She quickly chose a turquoise tank style dress, accessorizing with silver bangle bracelets and hooped earrings.

  Bronwyn plugged in her three-barrel waver and spent an hour crimping her long, black hair. She gently pulled it over her left shoulder, securing a very loose low ponytail. Several pieces escaped their clutches and fell around her face. She chose a simple, white linen halter dress, and accessorized with turquoise jewelry and silver sandals.

  The troupe trekked into Moonshine on the two-lane highway. The more frequently they walked this path, the less the distance seemed. The melodious tune of a dulcimer drifted over the mountains and through the trees, as it had throughout the week. The night was clear, beautiful. The magnificent moon gave off enough light to illuminate the dark road. Millions of stars filled the sky like loose diamonds scattered across a piece of dark purple velvet. The cool breeze, swept gently over the mountains, stirring against the trees and casting the aroma of spruce, firs, pine and cedar into the air. It evoked a sense of protection, a sacred feeling that seemed to empower Bronwyn and fill her with renewed strength.

  As the troupe walked down the center of the crooked highway, they each took turns recounting events of the past five days, telling various stories of the curious people they had met thus far, Trent occasionally pointing out the unique lifestyle and forgotten dialect of the mountain. Bronwyn enjoyed this moment, listening to her friends describing their adventures. Their stories gave some sense of normality to her situation. What she did notice, was that all their stories were typical, average. Not one of her friends spoke of uneasiness, or gave mention of any peculiar events, apparitions, cloaked figures or murders in the gardens. Everyone simply experienced every day common behavior. She envied them, in a way.

  Country mountain ballads could be heard on the outskirts of town, along with laughter and gaiety. The festivities were in full swing. As the troupe rounded the final curve, they saw the streets and courtyards ablaze with activity. Each decorated booth erupted with color and offered a tasty treat or trinket of some sort. Strung lights and blazing lanterns gave off a fairy tale ambiance. Vendors were dressed in some sort of medieval masquerade, most of their identities hidden by peculiar masks. To Bronwyn, it felt like a combination of a Renaissance faire and Carnevale in Venice. In keeping with the midsummer’s night theme, young children, dressed as charming fairies, ran through the crowd throwing glittery fairy dust, and giving out small bags of delicious candies. Molly, a winsome little fairy, eagerly brought her bags of goodies to each one in the troupe.

  Delicious aromas of sweets and baked goods overpowered the natural scents of the mountains. Booths offered home-made waffle cones, warm baked brownies, and oversized cookies, all of which could be covered with mounds of the delicious frozen treats.

  The troupe dispersed as they entered the festival. Wilbur stopped at the first ice cream booth he approached. Marcus and Anna headed to the courtyard. Ashley, who overdressed in a revealing low-cut ensemble, spotted the troupe right away. She immediately, sauntered over with a friend, eyeing Trent and Daniel. Soon the boys were whisked away. Karley and Walt challenged each other to games of skill, heading over to the recreational booths.

  Bronwyn, Bethany, and Lillian were left alone. They strolled amongst the kiosks and various stands. Everyone eagerly offered them ice cream samples. Not yet ready to begin gorging, the girls graciously declined.

  Tiny lights blazed all over the hills, giving indication of homes hidden deep in the trees. Judging by the enormous turnout, Moonshine appeared to be much larger in population than Bronwyn had originally thought. All these people, hidden from view, nestled in the mountains, and still she saw no one over the age of fifty.

  The courtyard bustled with activity. A group of dancers, dressed in silver and blue angelic costumes, performed a beautiful interpretive dance in the grass outside the church grounds. Another large group of people danced to the lively tunes of the band.

  A masked figure approached the girls, offering them each a single rose. He bowed slightly, and without a word, sauntered back into the crowd, giving away more flowers. This carnival-type atmosphere was nothing Bronwyn had ever experienced before. It was as magical as a page out of a fairy tale book.

  Lillian grabbed Bronwyn’s arm, “Look! Is that Falcon?”

  Bronwyn’s heart leaped in her throat. He was leaning against a tree with a cigarette clenched between his teeth, and appeared to be in deep thought, unaware of each drag he took. He kept his attention on the crowd, not watching anyone in particular, yet, it was difficult to tell, seeing he was wearing his sunglasses despite the late hour. He seemed totally indifferent to the fact he had recently slit someone’s throat. She shuddered at the thought of his forcefulness last night and the extreme fear and discomfort he hurled upon her. She definitely did not wish to draw his attention her way.

  “It‘s him,” She said emphatically, then steered their small group in the opposite direction.

  The girls continued to walk past the booths, stopping only once for a giant blue cloud of cotton candy. Bronwyn unwound a strand of the fluffy confection from the paper stick.

  “I’m really missing Ryan tonight,” she confessed, before popping the sugary substance in her mouth.

  “Really?” Bethany was surprised, yet somewhat joyful that Bronwyn had opened up and shared a rational feeling. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. The ambiance maybe, the sultriness of a warm summer night. The fairy tale atmosphere of the festival. The perfect night sky. It all seems so surreal. Like some sort of a dream. It’s moments like this I wish I had someone special to share it with.”

  “What are we, then?” Bethany attempted to sound offended.

  Bronwyn laughed. “You know what I mean. I enjoy spending time with you both. In fact I am glad we’re here together. It’s just…”

  “There’s no need to explain,” Bethany confessed. “I totally understand. I am desperate for some sort of romantic interlude myself.”

  The girls spent the majority of the night sampling ice cream, feasting on sweets and baked goods, even trying their luck at several challenging games. They took in a few impromptu performances of various dancers, magicians, poets, and watched the strange antics of a mime.

  Masked figures would approach from time to time, presenting the girls with flowers or placing colorful beads around their necks. Some simply took their hands and kissed them. Occasionally, Bronwyn would glance over her shoulder to keep a close eye on Falcon, who dutifully maintained his attention on the crowd. She’d also glance around, searching nonchalantly for Travis. He was not among the crowd. She bit her lower lip in disappointment. She had not seen him since last night. She feared he was staying hidden, more than likely avoiding her, so he wouldn’t have to answer any questions concerning the events in the garden.

 
Three nervous teenage boys approached them, interrupting her musings. Timidly, they asked for a dance and soon the girls were being whirled about the grass. Although she was dancing and laughing, she felt it impossible to relax and enjoy the evening. A bitter feeling gnawed in the pit of her stomach, as her attention was drawn to the large banner hanging over the bandstand. She had seen this banner her first day in Moonshine, and had read it several times since. This time, a certain portion jumped right off the canvas and punched her in the face.

  Saturday, August 16th

  There hadn’t been a day in the past year, especially the past six months that she hadn’t thought of August 16th. It was embossed on hundreds of discarded invitations. The day she and Ryan were to be married. Her stomach knotted, a lump formed in her throat, blocking a cistern full of tears that would certainly burst forth if given the slightest chance.

  She left the dance floor, making her way through the crowd, and across the busy courtyard, heading as far away from the festivities as she could. Another masked figure approached her, placing a small, decorative cylinder in her hand.

  “I am delivering a message just for you, my dear,” He whispered in her ear.

  Blowing her a kiss, he bowed slightly and twirled away, disappearing into the crowd.

  She shoved the small cylinder in her dress pocket, before discovering a small path leading toward the lake. She followed the trail until the music and laughter transformed into croaking frogs and singing crickets. Tears stung at her eyes, yet she defiantly held them at bay. She refused to cry. She would not allow herself to give Ryan any more of her tears. She picked up her pace, wanting to run for miles and never stop.

  Removing her low-heeled sandals, she contemplated whether or not to toss them into the lake. They were one of her favorite pairs, but at this point she didn’t care. She hurled them one at a time into the dark, silvery waters and continued to run. Soft pine needles provided a carpet, cushioning her bare feet most of the way. Still, a few splintery sticks and sharp pine cones pierced her bare feet. She didn’t feel the stinging, since the pain in her heart overcame all other senses in her body.