by Ron Shiflet
Damned in Dixie:
Southern Horror
Ron Shiflet
DAMNED IN DIXIE: SOUTHERN HORROR
Entire Contents © 2007 Ron Shiflet
9781105013119
Individual Stories © by their respective authors.
Cover Art © 2007 Philip Rogers
All Rights Reserved by the Author. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
First Edition
First Trade Paperback Printing October 2007
Editor’s Note
Each story in this collection is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents in this collection are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people (living or dead), places, business establishments, locales, and/or events is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Editor’s Note
MISS MAGNOLIA’S SECRET
BEATING JOSEPHAT
A LITTLE NEST EGG
HOURS WITH THE DEAD
HEARKEN NOT TO THE ZURRY BIRD’S CRY
EMANCIPATION
HELL HATH NO FURY
BURY ME DEEP
THE BIG SHOT
GHOSTS OF THE BAYOU
THE TOOTH
A COLD DAY IN HELL
THE COOTSY
SLEEPING IN THE KISATCHIE
THE SKELETON
SUCH A SWEET GIRL
SIX ZOMBIES DOING THAT MICK JAGGER STRUT
THE BEST GHOST TOUR IN SAVANNAH
THE AUTHORS
Also From Tenoka Press
MISS MAGNOLIA’S SECRET
ANNA M. LOWTHER
“Miss Magnolia’s St. Augustine Bed And Breakfast, oh it sounds too quaint. It’s the one.” Cat clicked the print button, and drummed her fingers waiting for the paper to finish. Once it was in hand she moved to the breakfast bar where her husband sat with a cup of coffee and the Wall Street Journal. “You promised we would take a vacation this year, and said I could choose the place. Remember?”
She slid the printout over his newspaper. “Look at it, Rob. It says the mansion was built in 1806, before Florida was even a state. It’s been in the Markham family all these years. Isn’t that amazing?” Cat pulled her lips together in a tight line of frustration as Rob set the printout on the table without glancing at the text.
“Rob, my mind is made up. Jim and Stephanie went to Gettysburg and she won’t shut up about their stay in the haunted attic room. I intend to come back with a story that will make all of New York forget Stephanie and her pathetic, blurry pictures.” Cat poured herself a cup of coffee and glared at her husband. Rob knew when to give up, so he folded the Journal and gave Cat his complete attention. He made his best effort to appear interested.
“St. Augustine is the oldest city in the United States, and the original jail is still standing. There’s a Spanish fort, an Indian reservation, and the fabled Fountain of Youth. I’ve put a lot of time into finding the perfect bed and breakfast and I’m booking our reservations today.” Cat leaned back and wiped the smoked glass table with her cream-colored napkin.
“Yes, dear. Whatever makes you happy. When do we go?” Rob got up and slid the Journal into his briefcase. He downed the last of his coffee and put the mug in the dishwasher.
“Two weeks from today, and I don’t want to hear you can’t take the time off from the office. Tax season is over and you told me you were ahead of schedule for this quarter. I’ll do all the packing and charter the plane.” Cat nestled her mug next to Rob’s and started the dishwasher. She followed him to the door and kissed him goodbye, then started making phone calls. In less than an hour all the arrangements were in place.
An old-fashioned carriage met them at the small private airport. It was impossibly white, and the blistering Florida sun reflected off the surface in profusions of rainbows. Two massive black Percherons waited patiently in their harness as the driver moved to greet his passengers. He was short, thin, and almost as dark as the horses. He removed his cap and bowed deeply, his nose almost touching the ground. His hair was white and puffy like wisps of cotton with a shiny bald spot in the center.
“Miss Magnolia sends her warmest greetings and welcomes you to St. Augustine. Please allow me to escort you to Magnolia Manor.” He lowered a step and waited for Cat to step up into the carriage. “And you, sir,” he said to Rob who was standing by the luggage.
Rob shrugged. “All right, then. Thank you.” He slid onto the seat next to his wife as the driver loaded their bags in the back of the carriage. The small black man hopped up onto the coachbox and snapped the reins. “Y’all settle back and enjoy the scenery. It’ll be about a twenty-minute ride to Magnolia Manor. If you like, I can tell you about the things we pass.”
“Oh, yes, please,” said Cat. “This is our first trip to Florida, and we want to see as much as we can. What’s all over that tree?” Cat gasped and pointed to a large cypress tree that was covered in dusty gray-green fuzz. It hung in long tendrils from every branch, in some places brushing the ground.
The old man chuckled softly. “That’s Spanish moss, Ma’am. It’s been growin’ here ever since the first Spaniards came. Seems a soldier fell in love with an Indian princess. They met at night under the cypress trees, until the night her father caught them. He ordered his braves to tie the white man to the top of the tree where he’d found them together. He said when the soldier denied his love for the girl they could let him go.” He guided the horses to the side of the road to let traffic pass.
“That poor soldier was just too far gone in love with the princess. He swore nothing could ever make him deny his heart. The chief posted guards to make sure no one gave the soldier any food or water. The princess sat beneath the cypress and watched as he slowly wasted away.” The carriage turned down a narrow road beside a meandering stream.
“The bitter old chief decreed the body would remain in the tree as a warning to any other white man who sought to defile his daughter. The maiden was heartbroken, and refused to leave the tree. As time passed, she realized her lover’s beard was still growing and was twining over and around the tree branches. She swore she would never take a husband as long as the Spaniard’s beard remained. As you can see, it’s still there and has spread so that everyone can see the depth of their devotion.”
Cat tucked the legend into memory until she could write it down. “Does it hurt the trees?” This is better than Stephanie’s rebel sharpshooter story any day, she thought.
“Oh, no Ma’am. Leastways, no more than love does harm to anyone. Just like the soldier was denied food and water, the moss lives on the very air. Air and love. Love’s roots run deep down here, right into the very soil.” He pointed ahead to a narrow lane bordered on both sides by tall trees covered in creamy white blossoms.
“Those are magnolia trees. Don’t they just smell like heaven opened up and poured down all over you?” He turned the horses into the lane. The heady fragrance hung so thick in the air that Cat thought she could taste the flowers in the back of her throat. Her finger pushed the shutter on the digital camera as if she were using the word processor, trying to accurately record the total experience and knowing the images would be hopelessly insufficient.
The magnolia-lined lane continued for almost a mile before the southern plantation house came into view. Cat squealed, “It’s Tara! Oh, Rob, just look at it. It’s simply magnificent!” Cat clicked the camera repeatedly as she tried to capture every angle.
The mansion sprawled across an open expanse of thick blue-green grass. The roof was heavily gabled, and the wrap-around two-story porch had evenly
spaced Grecian columns posted like sentries holding back the passage of time. Thick oleander shrubs with deep rose-colored blooms perfumed the air. Lush Boston ferns swayed in the breeze and trailing clematis and morning glories added another breath of color across the porch. Six whitewashed rocking chairs extended an invitation few could resist.
The old man brought the carriage to a stop. A small sign on thin gold chains swung above the broad front steps. Magnolia Manor – Established 1806 was carved into the thick oak plaque. The carriage driver lowered the folding step and waited for the couple to exit the carriage.
Cat ran over to touch the grass and called to Rob. “Honey, you have to feel this! It’s so thick, almost rubbery. And it looks like it grows in runners sideways across the yard. Is it real?”
The old man chuckled to himself. “Yes, Ma’am. That’s what we call genuine St. Augustine grass. Best lawn you’ll ever find. Put down a few plugs and in a couple of months it will spread to cover the whole grounds.” He carried their luggage onto the porch and opened the wide double doors. “If you would please step inside, Miss Magnolia would like to welcome you to her home.”
“Come on, Cat. This trip was your idea. You wanted the true Southern experience; so let’s try not to look like rude tourists. We shouldn’t keep our hostess waiting.” Rob, having no interest in examining the grass, pulled Cat up the stairs and through the doors.
The carriage driver had removed his cap and changed from his livery jacket into a morning coat, now looking like a butler. He nodded and indicated they should follow him past the massive marble staircase and over to a set of heavy oak pocket doors on the left hand side.
He slid the doors open and they disappeared into the wall. He led them into a spacious library. Bookshelves covered every wall from the floor to the fifteen-foot high ceilings. Each volume was leather bound and many looked to be as old as the house. In front of the fireplace was a large oak chair with lion-claw feet and gold silk upholstery. A regal looking woman sat in the chair, but gracefully rose to greet them.
She was average in height and slender in build. Her skin was so fair it was almost translucent except for the faint blush of pink across her cheekbones. Her hair was the color of silvery moonlight, and was pulled back in an old-fashioned style. If forced to guess Cat would have said the woman was about forty years old, but her beauty could only be described as striking and timeless. Her eyes were a deep unnatural green like sparkling emeralds. Her dress was long and full skirted, and she wore tiny white gloves. She would have looked perfectly natural dancing with Rhett Butler or Ashley Wilkes.
“Welcome to Magnolia Manor. I am Miss Magnolia Markham. I hope you will find your stay here a pleasant and restful experience.” Her voice was warm and low, and made Cat think of honey oozing across a hot biscuit.
“Dinner will be served in the Dining Hall at exactly five-thirty. You will not be seated if you are late; we are very strict about meal times. Tomas will show you to your room where you may rest and freshen up before dinner. You are expected to dress appropriately.” She nodded to the old man, and then returned to her chair and began to read a small red book.
Tomas ushered them out of the room, and carried their bags up the curving staircase. At the landing, two staircases fanned out in opposite directions. He took the left staircase and entered the second door down the hall. Even Rob stared in amazement at the room before them.
The bed was bigger than any he’d ever seen, with four carved posters and a lace canopy stretched above it. There was a marble washstand and a copper pitcher of water. The towels and linens were hand-embroidered and a hand-stitched quilt covered the bed. Opulent velvet drapes kept out the oppressive sunlight, protecting the silk wallpaper and plush black carpet.
Tomas set their bags on top of a cedar chest and opened the closet. “Extra pillows and blankets in here, though I don’t suppose you’ll be feeling any chill tonight. There are dinner jackets in several sizes, in case you forgot one. Miss Magnolia is particular about the niceties. The bathroom is at the end of the hall on the right.” He turned down the covers on the bed.
Would you like me to call you down for dinner, about five-fifteen perhaps?” He straightened a vase of fresh flowers on the bureau, turning them to their best side.
Cat ran and threw herself onto the bed. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We’ll set our watch alarms. We wouldn’t want to miss a minute of Southern hospitality.” She stretched her arms and legs as wide as she could, but did not reach the edges of the bed.
“Very well, Ma’am.” Tomas bowed and left the room.
Cat checked her watch. “It’s only four o’clock. Why don’t you come over here and help me get undressed?” Rob joined her on the bed and began his vacation with a tour of some very familiar territory.
Rob and Cat were in the foyer by five-twenty. Rob was wearing an ivory suit and matching tie with a brown silk shirt. Cat wore a pale blue cocktail dress that stopped mid-thigh with stiletto heels and seamed stockings. Her décolletage was fully displayed and her strawberry blonde hair spilled over her bronze shoulders. Tomas entered and guided them to the dining hall. His expression said he thought Cat’s appearance was less than tasteful.
The table had space for thirty people, though only three places were set. Tomas led Cat to the chair on the left of the head of the table and waved Rob to the chair on the right. Cat started to pull out her chair, but Tomas cleared his throat and she caught his meaning. Miss Magnolia swept into the room and took command of the room as completely as Robert E. Lee astride Traveller before the boys in gray. Tomas held her chair, and once she was seated pulled out Cat’s chair. Rob sat down, and Tomas filled the water glasses.
“Well, Robert and Catherine, what do you think of Magnolia Manor?” Miss Markham cut her salad with a knife and fork, keeping her pinkies fully extended.
“It’s stunning, absolutely stunning. The website said it’s been in your family from the day it was built, and I think that’s amazing. How long has it been a bed and breakfast?” Cat rushed through her salad, eating as if she were still in Manhattan.
“We have always opened our doors to those in need, no matter the reason. When the yellow fever hit town we took in the sick and afflicted. There were cots in every room except this one and the kitchen. Hundreds of people died from the disease, and many of them are buried out back in the Markham family plot.” She rang a small silver bell, and Tomas appeared, carrying a large platter.
“We will be having sea bass tonight, with brown rice and baby carrots.” She nodded at the old black man and he served his mistress first, then Rob and Cat. He placed a basket of warm biscuits on the table, and returned to the kitchen.
Miss Magnolia raised her eyebrow as Cat began eating first. Rob noticed her displeasure and tried to assuage the situation. “There certainly is a lot of history here. What about the Civil War? I don’t recall hearing much about Florida, but history certainly wasn’t my best subject.”
“If you are referring to The War Between the States, then Magnolia Manor indeed saw a great deal of sorrow through that horrible time. The Yankees occupied St. Augustine and took this house as their officer’s command center. The soldiers were stationed at Castillo de San Marcos and they kept all the trade ships from coming or going. Our men were locked in the fort, even the elderly and infirm. The sick and wounded were brought here and the women of town were forced to care for them, among other unspeakable things.” She dabbed her lips with a white linen napkin embroidered with two entwined Ms.
“Oh, you don’t mean this beautiful mansion was used as a house of prostitution do you?” Cat opened her eyes wide and the corners of her lips pulled slightly upward. Stephanie will never top this, she thought.
“Catherine, a lady does not speak of such things, particularly in front of a gentleman.” Disapproval dripped from her words and the look she gave her guest made the phrase when “Hell freezes over” seem a distinct possibility.
“My name is Cat, and Rob is no gent
leman I assure you.” Cat tried to return the icy stare but could not outlast the hostess and dropped her eyes.
“Diminutive names are reserved for children, except for the darkies. It’s almost impossible to break them of the habit. While you are guests here you will be addressed by your proper Christian names. Even when the Yankees forced themselves on us, Magnolia Manor still retained her decorum.” She rang the silver bell again and Tomas appeared and bowed.
“We will take our dessert and drinks on the verandah. I will show our guests out while you fetch our refreshments.” She rose and gestured for Rob and Cat to follow.
They sat in the whitewashed rockers and watched the sun set through the trees. The waxy magnolia blossoms seemed to bleed as the red rays passed through their petals. Tomas set a platter of pralines on the small wicker table and offered each of them a tall glass of iced tea. Sprigs of fresh mint floated between the ice cubes.
Cat turned toward Miss Markham. “So tell me, and the truth now, is Magnolia Manor haunted? All those deaths, all these years there just have to be a few spirits hanging around.”
Miss Magnolia shook her head. “You Northerners have such funny ideas about death. You think it is the end, over and done. Here in the South we know that death is just another beginning. Nothing is ever truly gone as long as someone remembers. And the South shall never forget, I promise you that.” She sipped her tea and looked out across the open lawn.
“There are indeed spirits here at Magnolia Manor, Catherine. Whether they choose to make themselves known to you is entirely their decision and not mine to make.” She rocked slowly and a large white cat slipped out of the oleander shrubs and lay at her feet.
“Breakfast is at nine o’clock sharp. Tomas will be available to show you around the grounds after that, and answer any questions you may have. I will be indisposed for several hours with personal business but will see you again at dinner.” She reached down and picked up the cat, setting it into her lap as it began to purr.
