by Chris Neeley
She started for the shack.
***
Seph torched the hogs.
He had doused them with gasoline and when he had thrown the first match, there was a loud 'whomp', then the sizzling began.
He wanted to cover his ears. The sizzling, the crackling and popping of the hogs' skin as it split, filled his head. The smell was acrid, not like frying bacon at all. Seph's eyes stung as the fire lit up the night, so brightly you would have thought it was the middle of the day.
His livelihood was going up in smoke.
Losing Chloe had broken his heart. Now, he was afraid he was losing his mind. How could all of this have happened within a span of a couple months? The girl, Chloe, the hogs.
He stood unmoving, watching the fire burn.
Something had to be done.
Something had to be done before he lost anymore of his life, anymore of his fragile sanity.
The girl. He had to go see the girl, make the girl leave him and his own alone. It was her, he knew it. He hadn't known what he had been dealing with in the beginning and he still wasn't quite sure, but something had to be done about it. As soon as this fire, the hellishly burning fire, was finished eating up a good piece of his farm, that's exactly what he was going to do. He didn't care how late it was, or whether she wanted to see him or not. He'd bust down her door if she wouldn't open it.
Anger boiled up all the way to his eyes. They felt like they would pop right out of his skull. A tiny pain stabbed him in the neck and his heart crashed against his ribcage, trying to beat its way out of his chest. He watched the flames die down. It was funny. It hadn't taken very long, not very long at all, to burn what Seph had come to think of as the family's lifeline. He still had his crops, but the hogs had been a good source of income.
The fire burned down to a smoldering, bubbling mass of gooey lard with a few bones mixed in.
He had put the snow blade on the tractor before he had readied the fire. He decided that it was time now to use it.
"Cliff! Bury it!" he yelled.
Cliff started the tractor up. It let out a sputter, then chugged away when the engine caught. Cliff put it in gear and the blade dug into the mire. Smoke poured from the tractor's stack. The mud rolled in front of the blade, an obscene jelly roll. Cliff shoved it with the tractor until the lard pond was covered.
After Cliff had maneuvered the tractor out of the hog sty without getting it stuck. Seph went in the house for a beer. Maybe he'd have two.
Then, he was going to head on over to that little rattle-down shack and take care of business.
***
James walked into Rockside and was greeted by absolutely no one. The sleepy little town was deader than a ghost town in a Western movie. His footsteps echoed on the blacktop as he walked the three blocks into the City Limits to the cemetery. The street lamps threw his shadow first this way, then that as he walked in and out of the yellow circles of light that they cast on the sidewalks. Such a quiet town, he thought as he walked, watching the moths try to beat off their wings to get to the heat of the light inside the street lamps. His footsteps echoed in between the sleepy houses, making it sound as if someone was following him, but he knew better. He turned into the cemetery and headed to Aunt Doll's grave, not having to look around. His feet knew where to take him.
He cut off the cemetery road and headed through the grass. It was neatly trimmed, but the caretakers had neglected to clip the weeds that grew close to a foot high around the edges of some of the headstones. He passed by headstones, recognizing them as if they were neighbors. He came to the wide, high stone that he always passed on his way to Aunt Doll's grave. He ran his hand across the top of it, enjoying the smoothness of it. His hand bumped across something on the top. He jerked his hand back. Bird shit immediately came to mind. But there was too much of it, too big of a blob. He bent over to get a better look.
There was a half-burned candle stuck in dripped wax on the top of the stone. Who in the work would do something like that? In Rockside, you respected the dead.
James turned his head toward Aunt Doll's small stone, the little angel crouched in front of it, its head bowed in the moonlight.
James heard something moving, far off, but still within the boundaries of the cemetery. Someone else had come to visit the dead in the middle of the night.
James left them to themselves and walked the rest of the way to Aunt Doll's grave. He sat down on top of her grave, knowing that it would not offend her.
He listened as the other person moved off, then he only heard the night sounds again.
James sighed. Aunt Doll, help me figure this one out, he thought.
He concentrated, picturing her in his mind.
"James, there's a witch about. You've seen the sign, maybe you just didn't know it. When the animals get sick and lose their minds, it's a sign a witch is a'workin' her magic," Aunt Doll told him, her words seeming to come from inside of him. He spoke to her in his mind.
"A witch did this, then. Why didn't I see it?" he thought.
"You've forgotten some of what I taught ye. Them animals weren't the first of her spellin' and they ain't gonna be the last, you hear me now boy."
James frowned. "Not the first? What was the first? Was it Mom, did she have something to do with Mom?"
"Aw, she rightly did. But it came to be even before that. You pa knows. He has to be the one to tell ya. That be the way it is. You maybe can stall the witch a might, but you can't outright know what to do to stop her. Not 'til your Pa tells ya what begot her wrath. You're gonna have to ask him, ask him, ask him so that y'all will be able to set it straight, set it right."
James didn't understand. He had thought his father was into something that he shouldn't have been, but a witch? "Aunt Doll, what do I have to do?"
"I done told you, James. You has to ask your Pa. The witch, she's not finished yet, I can tell. I don't rightly know what be up her sleeve to come next, but you watch for signs. You think and you watch for sign. And you ask your Pa so that you can set things right again. A'fore it's too late ..."
Aunt Doll's crackling old voice disappeared from James' mind.
He sat for a moment, and let everything sink in.
Were there witches, here in Rockside? He supposed that there could be. What with all the folklore, all the southern tales, why even the reading of signs was a form of witchery, some thought. Living in the south was different, even now, in the nineties, when computers did everything under the sun and all you had to do was call on the phone and order anything you wanted. This was still the south and some folks still clung to the old southern ways. James figured that he'd better start remembering the things that Aunt Doll had taught, the things that his parents had told him was just her age talking.
He had believed then, and he believed now.
He had to.
***
Anna had thought that there had been someone else in the cemetery while she was making her way back to the shack, but she didn't take the time to find out just who it was. She was in a hurry, had many things to do, so she had scuttled her butt right out of there and ran almost all the way home.
She had taken her bath in the old dented bathtub and wrapped herself in the tattered robe that had once been her Momma's. She wouldn't be wearing it long, anyway. She had made the bed and lit all the candles that she could lay her hands on. The shack glowed in kind candlelight and she resembled the girl that she had been in the spring. Resembled her, but wasn't her.
Oh, she had changed.
There were lines around her eyes now, and she walked with the stoop of the crone. She knew that anything she did, any spelling that she did, would come back to her, but she wasn't too worried. She could take it. She didn't have anything to lose now.
She set up her ingredients for the spell she would cast now in her usual spot in front of the fireplace.
She took a black candle that she had made just for this spell, some rose petals, an onion heart, and the dust from the Chloe
woman's stone and set them up in a line. She sat down on the floor, crossing her legs and dropped the robe from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She had cut a piece of material from the frilly curtains that had hung at her window and she placed it on the floor between her and the lined up ingredients.
She reached for the onion heart and laid it in the middle of the material. "Let it be that this be the heart of the one he did love," she said softly. She took the black candle and held it over the onion heart. "For now his heart blackens against her," she said, tipping the candle. Drops of hot, black wax dripped over the onion heart, covering it with a shiny black coating. She set the candle back in its place and picked up the rose petals. She sprinkled them over the onion heart that was now covered in sticky wax, saying, "Let the rose of my heart replace her in his." The petals stuck to the wax. She got the tin of dust that she had collected from Chloe's stone. She sprinkled it over the rose petals. "This be proof that the other is gone. I shall take her place in his heart. So be it by the shine of the moon." She set the tin back down, and took the edges of the curtain material and brought them together, tying them in a knot, enclosing the spell. She got up and took the charm over to the bed and placed it beneath the pillow.
She pulled back the coverlet and climbed in bed, the flickering light of the candles making shadows dance along the walls.
Anna lay down to wait.
***
Seph had more than two beers. He drank four and then decided to go over to Matthew's, knowing that the old coot would still be out in the barn even though it was nigh on to midnight, and have himself a spot of 'shine.
Seph staggered out of Matthew's barn with only one thing on his mind. The girl was calling him. He could hear her. He hiked his pants up, squinting his eyes as he tried to remember just where in the hell he had put that damn truck. He shoved his cap back on his head.
Damn, he was drunk.
There was the truck, trying to hide on the other side of Matthew's old heap of a rattletrap.
He got to it and opened the driver's door before it could get away. He started it up, getting the key in on the first try. He backed it up, brushing the truck against the side of the big oak that guarded the driveway. Punching the gas pedal, the truck swerved a bit, then took off down the road.
Seph made it to the old shack without hitting anything else. He slid the truck to a stop in a cloud of dust. He didn't have to shut the engine off. The truck had the good sense to stall before Seph could cause it any more harm.
He swung the door of the truck open and rode it out.
He lurched up the porch steps, then stopped. He remembered the hole, the hole he had fallen through before. Seph gingerly placed his foot on the porch. It held him. He saw a glowing light coming from the one window. Seph grinned a mean grin.
Good, she was here.
He crossed the porch to the door.
***
James half-walked, half-ran, trying to hurry along the four miles back to the house. He had to talk to his father. Find out what this was all about.
His breath rasped in his throat. He wished to God a car would come along and pick him up. Usually, the four miles never bothered him but he'd overdone it today.
Sweat trickled into his eyes.
He started running again, his footsteps echoing through the night.
***
Anna had called Seph's name over and over in her mind. She kept it up, her own personal chant. She was getting warm, lying under the coverlet, so she threw it off and lay on the bed naked. The candlelight flickered, hypnotizing.
She heard something coming down the road, moving fast. Anna scooted up in the bed, leaning her back against the headboard. She stared at the door.
Something slid to a stop just in front of the shack and stalled.
"Seph," she whispered. She sat up straight.
Footsteps on the porch.
He was here.
***
Seph decided that he wasn't even going to knock.
He pushed on the door. It swung open easily. The hinge let out a pitiful squeak.
Seph stepped inside the shack.
It was a shambles. Lit candles were placed haphazardly around, putting off a golden glow, and the smell of melting wax. A huge hole in the roof was open to the sky with a tree limb hanging through it. Seph swayed on his feet. His mind was going fuzzy.
"Seph."
He heard his name.
His neck cracked and popped as his head slowly swung in the direction of the voice.
She sat in the bed, naked, her skin warmed by the candlelight. She raised her arms to him, reaching out. "Seph," she said, his name rolling off her lips like wine.
He took a step toward her.
His head felt so funny. There was a low buzzing sound in his ears. He couldn't think straight.
"Joseph Mayhew," she said, her lips moving, but he didn't hear the words with his ears. It was music in his head.
He took two more steps.
He was almost within her reach.
She wiggled her fingers, bidding him to come, come closer. He gazed at her through a fog. The smell of roses swept through the air to him and he breathed deeply. The edges of his vision dimmed and things started to blur, colors running together and she looked so soft, her skin would be like satin, and she wanted, wanted him to come to her. She said his name over and over then, his feet were moving and her arms reached up, she was kneeling now, kneeling on the bed, her arms around his neck and he could smell her, roses, roses and honey and he wanted to lick, lick her cheek, her shoulder, her breasts. She pulled him down onto the bed, the room dim, dimmer, dimming, what was wrong with his eyes? Her weight straddled his hips and her teeth were white, hands, his hands were moving over her now and his shirt split apart in her hands, the buttons arcing into the air in slow motion. She's shaking her head, her hair moving as if under water, slow waves, and her hands, hot, burning hands in the waistband of his pants, she's so strong, his pants at his ankles now, she's climbing on him, climbing…on..., and oh God, oh, God...
"Oh, GOD!" Seph screamed into the night as his body rode the waves of an orgasm that threatened to never stop. Bright light exploded in his brain, then everything went black.
Seph opened his eyes and looked at a rain-stained ceiling that he didn't recognize. Where the hell....
He sat up. His head pounded like a drum. "Where are you?" he croaked remembering where he was, then he noticed that he was naked. He snatched a blanket and wrapped it around himself. Where was she? Shit, he had done it again. Why in the hell had he come over here drunk, for Christ's sake? She had done something, too. She had messed with his mind again.
"Goddamit, I said, where are you?" he yelled, standing up, then wished he hadn't. Little silver sparks floated behind his eyelids and he sat back down on the edge of the bed.
A whistle shrieked, spearing his ears with the sound.
A kettle on the stove. He stumbled over and grabbed it off the stove, dropping it on the floor when it seared his hand. He roared in pain and his anger flared. Where in the fuck was the girl? She'd fucked him, fucked him like a goddamn race horse and now, she was no where to be seen with a kettle on the stove? There was no way this boy was going to drink any of her tea, uh uh.
He shuffled over by the bed, looking for his clothes. Damn bitch. The last thing that he remembered was walking into the shack and seeing what a mess it was in, then his mind had went fuzzy and he had felt like he was having some kind of wet dream. He threw back the bed covers and sifted out his pants. His underwear was stuffed down inside them. It struck him that he was still wearing his socks, but not his boots. He didn't remember taking them off. Just how had she stripped him so easily?
He dug his underwear out of his pants, dropped the blanket and bent over to put on his shorts.
The door of the shack squeaked open.
Seph swiveled around, his underwear at his knees. He jerked them up, almost racking his balls in the process, making him wince
.
She was standing in the doorframe, watching him with a tiny little grin on her face.
"You bitch," Seph said, feeling pretty damn exposed standing there in just his skivvies. But he liked the look on her face. She looked like he had slapped her. Seph grabbed his jeans and struggled into them. He picked up his shirt and put it on. There were no buttons on it to button. Dressed now, he faced her.
She hadn't moved from the spot in front of the door.
"You," Seph began, advancing on her, "you did something to my hogs, didn't you?"
She moved away from the door and into the shack. "Seph, give the Babe Rose your name and all will be well."
"The hell it will!" Seph took a step toward her. She matched him, taking a step back toward the stove. "What are you? A witch? What else have you got up your sleeve 'cause I'll tell you right now, the pitiful 'Babe Rose' that you handed me that night is not a Mayhew, never was and never will be." He moved toward her again, his hands clenching into fists. A warning bell went off in his mind. Don't hit her, she's just a girl, a voice inside his head said. Is she really? another voice said.
She moved deeper into the shack.
Seph's foot kicked his own boot where it lay in the floor. The other one was a foot away. He picked them up and set them side by side, slipping his feet into them. He raised his finger, pointing at her. "I'm only going to tell you this once," he growled, "'cause this is the only warning you will get. I don't know how you got me into that bed again and I don't know what you did to my animals, but so help me God, if you ever do anything to my family again," his jaws clenched tight, "I just might kill you."
He turned and started for the door. He had to get out of here. He knew that he wouldn't, couldn't, kill her, but she didn't. He'd made it all the way onto the porch when he heard her laugh. He only stopped for a second, then went on out to the truck. He got in, slamming the door. He hoped that the thing would start.