Hoodoo

by Ronald L. Smith

  I wiped a tear away from my cheek. I didn’t want to cry. But Mama Frances was all I had. I’d already lost my mama and daddy. I didn’t want to lose her, too. I reached out with my left hand and stroked her forehead. She was burning up.

  Aunt Jelly came by to look after me. I kept thinking it was my fault that Mama Frances had the stroke. “Maybe I should’ve stirred the clothes,” I told Aunt Jelly. “That way, she wouldn’t have strained herself.”

  She drew me into her arms. “Oh, baby, there’s nothing you did wrong.”

  I didn’t want to, but right then I started blubbering. She held me close and rubbed the back of my head. “Hush now, child,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

  She kept saying that, but I knew it wasn’t all right, and brushed the tears off my cheeks.

  Bunny came by and we sat close to Mama Frances’s bedside. We took turns stroking her hands and talking to her. She looked like she was just taking a nap, lying there in the bed like that. Aunt Jelly had made the quilt from some old clothes and big squares of red and yellow cloth. Rows of little houses ran along the edges, and stars were in the middle. She told me one time that in the olden days, people would put directions on the quilts and hang them in the windows so the runaway slaves would know which way to go to get to freedom.

  Mama Frances wore a little mojo bag around her neck that Aunt Jelly made for healing. Candles were lit too, placed on the floor and all around the bed. Since Mama Frances couldn’t talk, I couldn’t tell if she was hot or cold, so I went back and forth between tucking the quilt up to her neck and then drawing it down.

  “Do you think she can dream?” I asked Bunny.

  “Probably,” she said. “I bet you in her dream she’s walking and talking, like she used to.”

  Used to. Bunny’s words made my eyes sting. “Will she ever get back to the way she was?” I asked. “Will she ever be . . . normal again?”

  Bunny didn’t answer. There was a moment of silence while we looked at Mama Frances. All I heard was her low breathing. Bunny reached over and took my left hand. “She’ll be okay, Hoodoo. I know she will.”

  The door creaked on its hinges, and Aunt Jelly came in holding a bowl of chicken broth. She’d been trying to get Mama Frances to eat the past two days and wanted to be ready if she woke up.

  I was about to get out of the way and make room for her, but she looked at me and said, “That’s okay, Hoodoo. Maybe y’all being by her side will strengthen her spirit.”

  I turned to look at Mama Frances.

  And that’s when she opened her eyes.

  “She woke up!” I shouted, jumping out of my chair.

  “Lord above,” Aunt Jelly whispered, raising a hand to her bosom. The bowl of broth crashed to the floor.

  Mama Frances looked around the room like she didn’t know where she was, but then her startled eyes fell on me. Aunt Jelly and I both edged closer to the bed. Bunny sat still, like she was in shock. Mama Frances’s eyes were cloudy and her lips were dry. Aunt Jelly tried to give her a sip of water from the glass on the end table, but Mama Frances shook her head. “No,” she groaned in a raspy breath. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to speak.”

  We all waited. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. Mama Frances licked her lips. “It was the Stranger,” she finally said. “He did this to me. You have to find him, Hoodoo. You got to destroy him!”

  Aunt Jelly gasped.

  “How?” I asked. “How do I do it, Mama Frances?”

  She licked her lips again. “I saw our people on the other side,” she said softly. “They’re waiting for me, child.” She raised her arm and pointed a finger in the air. “Up there.”

  She started coughing, and it felt like the whole bed shook. “Come here, Hoodoo. I want to tell you something.”

  I leaned down, and put my ear close to her mouth. I took her right hand in my left. She coughed again. “What is it, Mama Frances? What you wanna tell me?”

  Her lips moved like she wanted to say something.

  But she never did.

  Because right about then, Mama Frances gave one last cough, and then closed her eyes.

  From the Other Side

  I cried so much I didn’t think I had any tears left. It felt like the world was spinning and I was hanging on, hoping I wouldn’t get thrown off and fall into darkness. Mama Frances’s words echoed in my head: It was the Stranger. He did this to me. You have to find him, Hoodoo. You got to destroy him!

  Aunt Jelly went into town and came back with some black pants and a white shirt for me to put on for the funeral. I didn’t know where she got them from, but the shirt was too big and I had to roll the sleeves all the way up to my elbows. I didn’t have a belt, either. I cried right then, looking down at the floor and the too-big pants rolled up to my ankles. I’d never see Mama Frances smile or hear her laugh again. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. I’ll make that stranger pay for what he’s done, I said to myself. I promise, Mama Frances.

  People came from far and wide to go to Mama Frances’s funeral. I sat in a church pew, staring at scratches in the wood. I felt like I wasn’t really there, like I was a ghost moving through the world with no place to go. I had a foggy memory of women coming up and throwing their arms around me, men shaking my hand, Preacher Wellington shouting about the reward of heaven from the pulpit, and ladies in big hats waving paper fans and crying out to the Lord. Three women in white dresses had to take people out now and then because they went into a fit.

  Pa Manuel sat like a man made out of stone. I could tell he was sad, but I figured he was trying to be strong for everybody else. I guessed he still loved Mama Frances deep down inside.

  By the time I went up to look at Mama Frances in the casket, I felt like I was sleepwalking. But there she was, dressed in her favorite Sunday dress. Her hat had pink and yellow flowers on it, and they’d put some paint on her lips. I didn’t like that one bit. Mama Frances never painted her face. How could she be dead? I reached down to take her cold hand.

  And a vision came up in front of me.

  The Stranger crept into our yard, walking like some kind of black daddy longlegs. Mama Frances stirred the big iron pot of clothes.

  “Mandragore,” he hissed.

  Fast as lightning, Mama Frances pulled the stick out of the pot and struck him across the head. The Stranger fell back and cursed under his breath. “Where is the boy?” he said. “The one that carries it. I come to collect.”

  “Leave that child be!” Mama Frances lashed out. “He’s an innocent!”

  The Stranger raised his left hand. Mama Frances fell back and hit the ground like she was struck by lightning. Her stick went flying. She glared at the Stranger, and her eyes were like fire. “He will destroy you, demon!” she cried out.

  The Stranger’s head snapped back, and for a second he looked afraid, but then he whispered a word, and it came from his thin lips in a line of black smoke, curling around his tongue.

  Mama Frances shook for a second, let out a breath, and closed her eyes.

  The Stranger cocked his head and stared at her. He raised his head and howled, just like a dog, then strode off with long steps until he vanished in the fields beyond the house.

  “Hoodoo.”

  I heard a muffled voice, like it was under water.

  “Hoodoo.”

  A hand touched my shoulder.

  “We have to let her go, son.”

  It was Pa Manuel.

  I took a deep breath, still shook up from the vision.

  “Hoodoo?” he whispered, leaning in closer.

  “I have to kill him,” I said, staring at Mama Frances in the casket. “I don’t care what it takes. He’s gonna die, Pa Manuel. And I’m gonna do it.”

  Smoke and Fog

  I stared at the hole in the ground where Mama Frances slept in a pine box.

  Pa Manuel and Aunt Jelly threw handfuls of dirt on top of the coffin, but when it was my turn to do it, I couldn’t, and le
t the grave dirt fall from my fingers right where I stood.

  I didn’t want anybody to see me crying, even though they said it was okay. Bunny tried to put her arms around me but I ran away and found a big old tree to lean against, where I hugged my knees to my chest and let the tears come.

  It was the Stranger. He did this to me. You have to find him, Hoodoo. You got to destroy him!

  I heard singing, coming from back in the graveyard. Preacher Wellington’s voice was the strongest, deep and sad. It was one of Mama Frances’s favorite songs, the one she sang when she washed my feet:

  Yes, we’ll gather at the river,

  the beautiful, the beautiful river.

  Gather with the saints at the river

  that flows by the throne of God.

  That made me cry even more.

  “Damn you, Stranger!” I said, balling my left hand into a fist. I didn’t care that I’d said a curse word, so I said another one. “I’m gonna send you back to hell!”

  “Hoodoo?”

  I looked up through my tears.

  Bunny stood beside me. I was so caught up, I hadn’t even heard her coming.

  “C’mon, Hoodoo,” she said, kneeling down. “We gotta go. Back to your house.”

  She took my hand to help me up.

  “Ow!” she cried.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She rubbed her fingers.

  “Your hand, Hoodoo. It’s hot. Like fire.”

  Back home, our house was jammed with all kinds of folk. Some of them weren’t even at the funeral. Flowers were everywhere. That’s what happened when someone died. People brought you flowers.

  I stood at the head of the dining room table. I always thought it was a lot shorter, but Pa Manuel and Cousin Zeke pulled each end and an extra slab of wood came out, making the table really long.

  I stared at all the food: fried chicken and catfish, okra with corn and tomatoes, liver and onions, red beans and rice, corn bread in a black iron skillet, peach cobbler, boiled peanuts, pecan pie, yellow cake, five pitchers of sweet tea, and a big pot of chitlins (chitlins are boiled pig guts, if you didn’t know). Eating was the last thing on my mind. There was a hole in my stomach I couldn’t fill. I thought I was gonna be sick just looking at all of it. I kept seeing Mama Frances fall to the ground, trying to do everything she could to protect me.

  It was the Stranger. He did this to me. You have to find him, Hoodoo. You got to destroy him!

  I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t cry again.

  People kept coming up and hugging me. The ladies smelled like perfume and the men like cigars and liquor. Some of them were smiling and laughing now, once they got something to eat and some moonshine in their bellies. I felt like telling them they could all go straight to—

  I needed to get away.

  I pushed through the crowd. Everyone was giving me sad smiles or patting my head like a dog or something. Bunny was sitting on the other side of the room. She had a plate on her lap and was pulling apart a biscuit. She looked like she didn’t even know what she was doing, like she was half asleep.

  “Bunny.”

  She jumped like I’d scared her and then let out a breath.

  “Let’s go outside,” I said.

  It was late afternoon, and a little cooler now. We sat up against the pecan tree, not saying anything. Bunny had on a black dress and some shiny shoes. She looked different than she usually did, like she was growing up right in front of my eyes. Her eyes were damp and a little red.

  I looked over to where I’d found Mama Frances on the ground. “I gotta stop him, Bunny.”

  She wiped her eyes with her hand. “How?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I will.”

  She didn’t say anything right away—she just gave me a funny look, like a smile that didn’t work right. I could tell she was trying to think of the right thing to say. She looked at the ground, then back at me, then back to the ground, but in the end, she didn’t say nothing.

  By the time everybody left, there was a mess in the house. Aunt Jelly gave away a lot of the food, and some church ladies helped her clean up. Somebody had stubbed out a fat cigar on one of Mama Frances’s best plates. I didn’t like that one bit.

  I stood at the little altar Mama Frances had set up. There were fresh flowers here too, standing up in a big glass vase. They were pretty, with green and red leaves shooting off in all directions. I sighed. Now I’d have to put something there that belonged to Mama Frances so she could watch over me. She was an ancestor now. That almost made me cry again but I sucked it up.

  I looked at the other stuff on the altar. Candle flames burned bright. The ring was still there, the one with the painted eye on it. I picked it up with my left hand. It was hot to the touch. I closed my fist around it.

  White light flashed in front of my eyes.

  I was standing where two dirt roads met at a right angle. The crossroads. One road trailed off in the distance, where it got swallowed up in a creeping fog, rising as high as the black walnut trees. The other one was dark red clay and looked as wet as mud. I was supposed to make a choice and decide which road to take. I didn’t know how I knew this. I just felt it.

  It was cold out, and the sun was weak and hazy. The air felt heavy on my shoulders, like a cloak or a quilt. “Might as well go this way,” I said out loud, turning and heading down the path of red clay. As I walked, my shoes didn’t leave any footprints. Was I a ghost?

  A white light glowed in the distance. I felt warm all over, and walked toward it, not afraid, as light as a feather. The closer I got, the more the light turned into a shape—the shape of a man.

  I was only a few feet away now, and it swayed in the ghostly breeze.

  “Hoodoo.”

  Tingles ran up and down my neck. “Daddy?” I called.

  “I don’t have long, son. You have to be careful.”

  I looked at him. I was only five when he died, and didn’t remember a whole lot about him. But his face brought back some memories. I could make out his thin mustache and beard, his strong jaw, and his dark brown eyes, like two smooth stones floating in a river. I thought about the time I rode on his shoulders. “Choo, choo!” he’d shouted as we ran around the yard in circles. I squeezed my knees together and held on tight. That was one of the few things I remembered about him.

  “Why’d you do it?” I asked. “Why’d you try to send your body into mine?”

  The shape swirled in the breeze. “It was a mistake, Hoodoo. I panicked up there on the gallows. I wanted to save myself. I was a coward, you see, boy? I didn’t have heart, like you.”

  I felt the soft brush of a finger on my birthmark. I was angry but didn’t know what to say. He was still my daddy, no matter what he’d done.

  “But what I did is unforgivable, son. That’s why I’m stuck. I need my whole body to enter the kingdom of heaven. You understand?”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t know what he meant.

  “See?” he said.

  The shape raised its ghostly arm. Where Daddy’s left hand should’ve been was just an empty stump. A bell tolled way off in the distance: three soft notes.

  “How did the Stranger know you were my daddy?” I said. “How did he find out your hand was on me?”

  A flash of red flickered across Daddy’s ghostly face. “He troubles my dreams even in the land of the dead,” he said quietly. “He probably plucked the memory of you from my thoughts, like a fishing line hooks a trout.”

  “They lied,” I said. “All of them. Cousin Zeke, Mama Frances, and Pa Manuel. They were keeping secrets.”

  “They wanted to protect you, son. I caused enough pain.”

  The word pain echoed around me, ringing in my ears and through my body. I had so many more questions.

  “But if I have your hand, why’s it look normal on me?” I asked. “How come it’s not a big old hand, like yours?”

  “You’re in the real world,” he said, “and time and space are different. I g
uess that hand just changed to fit your body, son. I don’t know.”

  His voice trailed off on the wind.

  There was silence for a moment, and Daddy’s figure waved in the air, like smoke. “Once you take care of this here . . . demon, my hand will come back to my body.”

  “How?” I asked. “How can I do it?”

  “You will,” he said. “That power you got isn’t just from me. It’s your strength and smarts, too. You’re what they call an innocent. And the innocent can cause deeds great and powerful. You gotta use your head, son, and your heart.” He touched my birthmark again.

  I nodded.

  The bell chimed once more, but this time it sounded like it was muffled by cotton, far away and close at the same time. Daddy looked past my head, like he was searching for something. I turned to see what he was looking at.

  When I looked back, he was gone.

  Knights of the Wise Men

  Flash.

  I stared at the ring in my palm. The candles on the altar had gone out. My head hurt and my left hand throbbed. I was dizzy, like I’d just stepped off a merry-go-round. First I’d seen what had happened to Mama Frances, and now I was seeing Daddy.

  What was happening to me? Was I standing here the whole time with my eyes closed?

  Daddy was trying to tell me something. This must’ve been his ring. I put it in my pocket and made my way on up the steps.

  I needed to lie down, just for a minute. My body ached again, just like the other times I went in the spirit world. I passed the picture of my family on the wall, the one that usually gave me the shivers. Mama Frances and Pa Manuel were younger then. Daddy stood in the sunshine with his arms crossed, right in the very front. I put my nose up against it and looked closer.