by Aiden James
“Once we finished eating, he told us to grab a couple of sodas from the kitchen and meet him in the dining room. The room usually reserved for special occasions, it only added to the intrigue that marked this evening’s event. Grandpa soon joined us carrying an ice-cold bottle of beer, which commanded my brother’s immediate attention.
“‘So, when did you buy the beer, Grandpa?’
“‘A couple of days ago,’ he replied, seemingly amused by the wounded puppy look on Jeremy’s face. ‘There are plenty of sodas for you two.’
“‘You know I’d rather have a beer!’ whined Jeremy. ‘Suppose I finish the soda I’ve got now and then helped myself to one. Would you really mind tonight if I did that? We could save the sodas for Jackie.’
“‘I don’t know….’
“Grandpa feigned seriousness for as long as he could stand it, until Jeremy’s frown deepened.
“‘I guess that’ll be all right,’ he sighed. ‘Just be sure to limit yourself to a few... as in three, not five or six, son!’
“After Jeremy promised he’d hold it to three beers, Grandpa sat down at the table’s head, in front of a pair of large French-paned windows facing the backyard’s junk pile. The curtains and blinds were always drawn shut, that evening no exception.
“‘It may take some time to do this, but I’ll try to keep it interesting,’ he said, motioning for us to sit on either side of the table. ‘As I told ya’ll last night, this wasn’t my first encounter with the golden object, or talisman as Genovene called it in your story last night, Jack. I’ve seen one just like it before, back when I was a child.
“‘A boy of about eight years old at the time, I lived here in this very house with my father, mother, and your Uncle Monty. My grandpa had died a few years earlier and Papa inherited the place even though grandma was still alive. She didn’t want to live in this big old house by herself, and as I’ve gotten older I can understand why.
“‘One day when playing by myself in the backyard, I stumbled on a shiny gold thing lying just inside the back gate, right where that stone sphere sits now. It glowed something fierce, and I guess most any kid would’ve picked it up. I slipped it inside my overalls’ pocket, but didn’t take a good look at it until later on.
“‘When I finally did get a good look at it, the strange designs and inscriptions made me dizzy, just like the one Jack picked up did to him…. Monty snuck up behind me, so I stuffed it back into my pocket. He saw me do it, and since three years older, he bullied me to make me let him see it. I knew he’d keep it and I’d never get it back, so I ran to get away from him….’
“Grandpa paused for a moment. A far away look in his eyes as he reminisced, he laughed softly.
“‘I ran around the backyard until far enough away from him,’ he said, ‘I vowed right then to give the damned thing to Lisa Ann Stratton as soon as I found an opportunity to do so. I had the biggest crush on her, and aside from picking flowers from my momma’s flower garden, I couldn’t do much else to show how I cared for her. This would be my ticket to her heart. I just knew it.
“‘I made a beeline for her house, where Ben and Maggie Johnson now live—or used to, until yesterday. I squeezed through a narrow gap in the Stratton’s picket fence and ran to the backyard where Lisa Ann played with her terrier named Scratches. Animals have always taken a liking to me, except I suppose that critter we encountered today. As soon as Scratches saw me, she ran up to me, wagging her tail and trying to lick me. I looked up at Lisa Ann as she watched us play, her smile so beautiful.
“‘Finally able to break the ice with her, since she pretty much ignored the flowers and all, to make sure I’d made a lasting impression I pulled the golden object out of my pocket and handed it to her. It seemed to get brighter as she held it up close to her face, and the light made her braided blond hair and deep blue eyes look prettier than ever. Quite impressed, she ran inside her house to show it off.
“‘About a minute later, her great uncle who’d been visiting their farm came outside holding the damned thing. He walked right up to me. A tall, thin older gentleman, he was dressed like a preacher in a black suit, with a wide-brimmed black hat and western-styled bow tie. His hair and trimmed beard were a brilliant white, in stark contrast to his deeply lined, tanned skin.
“‘He stood there sizing me up with his steel-blue eyes. ‘Where’d you get this?’ he asked. I told him I found it in my backyard. He turned the talisman over and over in his hands as if he could decipher its inscriptions. ‘So, you’re the chosen one’ he told me, ‘Ain’t that interesting’. When I asked what he meant, he shrugged his shoulders and said he hoped he was wrong about that. Now I was really confused. But he just stood there tapping the thing for another minute or so while he studied it some more.
“‘When the old man finished, he looked at me again and asked, ‘What’s your name, boy?’ I told him ‘Marshall’, of course, and he said, ‘Well, Marshall, you need to return this thing to the very same spot you found it in’. I told him I didn’t want to take my gift back from Lisa Ann. He finally agreed to hold onto it and ‘see that it’s properly disposed of’. Then he turned and walked back to the house, eyeing me seriously one last time before going inside.
“Soon after, Lisa Ann came back outside and we played together for a while longer. That day was the beginning of a great friendship between us that held strong till your grandma stole my heart away twelve years later.’
“‘Grandpa, what happened to your talisman?’ I asked, uninterested in hearing about his love life.
“‘Don’t worry, son. I’ll get to that,’ he replied. ‘But first thing’s first. That old man was known throughout the world as Dr. Nathaniel ‘Jack’ Stratton. I can’t even count how many of his stories I used to tell your mom when she was a little girl. I always figured she named you after him, Jack. He was an anthropologist, whose specialty was researching lost American civilizations, both in this continent and in South America. He was in his mid-seventies when I met him, still strong and virile as any man half his age.’
“‘Sounds more like an archaeologist…. Regardless, I guess we had a ‘real live’ scientist living next door, huh?’ Jeremy seemed genuinely impressed.
“‘Yep…sure did.’
“‘I’ll have to look him up on the web later,’ said my brother. He took a large drink from his beer, and followed this with a healthy burp.
‘He’s definitely mentioned on several popular websites, and wrote a few books as well,” Grandpa told him, visibly pleased by Jeremy’s response.
“The gooseflesh arose on my arms as I remembered the earthen old man’s words from when I hid in the garden in Genovene’s village. ‘Tell Marshall your namesake said hello.’
“I couldn’t remember if I told Grandpa and Jeremy about this encounter or not, but Grandpa had already moved on in his story. I sat enthralled at the dining room table for the next hour while he told us a few of Dr. Stratton’s more daring expeditions. I pictured a younger Dr. Stratton similar to Indiana Jones. Surprisingly, Jeremy found these stories interesting as well, though not near as much as I did. Once he lost interest, he drummed his fingers beneath the table.
“‘Well, hell, I guess we’ve talked enough about Dr, Stratton’s exploits,’ said Grandpa, glancing at his wristwatch. ‘Sorry about that, boys. I’ll try and stick closer to the stuff concerning us most this evening.
“‘Dr. Stratton taught Lisa Ann and me about several legends that dealt specifically with the fabled ‘Lost City of Gold’. He believed the Inca, Mayan, and Aztec cultures, among others, were patterned after a much older one that required human sacrifice to survive. Surely ya’ll are familiar with the temples and sacrifice rituals of ancient Mexico and South America? You boys learned that in school, right?’
“We nodded that we had.
“‘Well, Dr. Stratton believed these civilizations imitated this earlier culture to try and obtain eternal life for their privileged members, such as priests, rulers, and aristocrats,’ Grand
pa explained. ‘Obviously unsuccessful, they did manage to amass an incredible fortune in gold over the years, perhaps thinking if they horded this element it would in turn attract the gods’ favor.
“‘One notable legend I’ve always been fascinated with involves the ancient Incas of Peru. It’s a little gruesome, but fascinating nonetheless. These Indians believed the sacred city of gold was once located on a mountain called ‘Machu Picchu’ near the modern city of Lima. According to Dr. Stratton, only sacred virgins and the Inca priests that’d lead them to their sacrificial deaths were allowed in this city.
“‘Built on a ledge protruding from the mountain’s side, the city overlooked a large valley. Inca tribes from all over gathered in this valley to celebrate their feasts and sacred ceremonies. At daybreak when these events took place, a large disk made of solid gold was rolled out to the very end of the ledge, and then angled so the sunlight hit it in such a way that it looked like a huge fireball.
“‘When this fireball’s light was at its brightest, an anointed virgin would be sacrificed before the vast crowd by a high priest or priestess. After tearing out her heart and decapitating the body, the torso and head would be tossed into the midst of the throng to do with as they pleased.’
“Grandpa paused here to make sure he hadn’t lost his audience. Not yet, so he continued.
“‘No one since has ever located the golden disk or the city it came from, other than the famous ruins located further up the mountain. A few periodicals over the years have reported the existence of a group of eclectic Indians who appear from time to time near the mountain’s base. These Indians usually disappear from sight whenever modern people come within striking distance. Apparently the locals in Lima claim people often disappear forever if they venture too close to the ‘lost’ city. I can tell by the look on your face, Jack, there are similarities between this and what you encountered yesterday.’
“‘Yeah, there are,’ I agreed.
“‘Dr. Stratton held other theories you might find interesting, boys. Like the idea the legendary city either moved from place to place, or that several such cities existed. He claimed he’d found plenty of evidence for this notion within the written histories and oral traditions of both North and South American Indians. From Argentina to Missouri, and especially among the Mississippian Nations, he said there were as many as twelve different locations. I recall last night, Jack, you mentioned seeing another distant tower like the one you were in yesterday.’
“I nodded this was true. I also recalled a Mississippian pyramid that Grandpa took us to see near Demopolis when we were younger. It made sense there could be a connection between North and South American Indians.
“‘Dr. Stratton would’ve been happy to have seen that, I’m sure,” said Grandpa. ‘Now one other thing that ties to what happened to you, son. He was real adamant that unless a person was given a sacred sign or mark, they’d never get inside such a place. He even reminded me from time to time of the strange symbols engraved on the thing I found in my backyard, and how he’d felt all along it’d been given to me on purpose.’
“‘What happened to your talisman, Grandpa?’ I asked again.
“‘Son, I promise we’ll get to that in due time,’ he replied, chuckling at my unwavering persistence. ‘Suffice it to say for now it disappeared from Dr. Stratton’s room at his farm before he could dispose of it as intended.’
“Grandpa paused to take a long drink from his beer.
“‘As I was saying,’ he continued, ‘his theories were quite interesting. And, what he taught us about our own sordid local history really held our attention. According to Dr. Stratton, much of Alabama and Mississippi provided a home base of sorts for one of these golden cities on the move.
“‘The earliest solid evidence came from the sixteenth century and the evil Spanish conqueror Ferdinand Desoto. As you might’ve learned in school, Desoto came through Alabama on his relentless search for gold and other treasures, leaving a path of bloody destruction in his wake. The Indians around here didn’t have much gold, as was the case throughout North America.
“But even though they placed a much higher emphasis on spiritual things, like the idea of being one with the Great Spirit, most tribes still believed in an ancient and largely forgotten golden metropolis. Its location could only exist on holy ground. This usually meant a place where the earth’s energy is closer to the ground’s surface, easily detected if one knew what to look for.’
“‘Like a place similar to the hot spring we saw today?’ Jeremy suggested.
“‘Precisely!’ Grandpa was extremely pleased that my brother remained interested in what he had to say. ‘Desoto went on an endless search for this fabled city, thinking he could plunder it and make himself immensely rich and powerful. Many innocent Natives died as a result of his frustration.
“‘One tribe of Chickasaws lived not far from here, and Desoto heard they knew where the golden city was located,’ he told us. ‘Some members of the tribe had recently seen a ‘golden mountain’ looming high above the trees near the basin of where the Black Warrior and Tombigbee rivers merge. When he arrived at the Chickasaws’ village, Tishomingo, the tribe’s chieftain, pointed him to the area where the recent event took place. The conquistador general set off across the river and into the woods, ending up with his army in the very clearing we visited today, finding just the burial grounds and the bubbling hot spring and its pools.
“‘Enraged, as he thought he’d been deliberately deceived, Desoto slew every man, woman, and child in the village, except for Tishomingo and his immediate family, whom he instead brought to the clearing. After his men brutally raped Tishomingo’s wife and two daughters in front of him, he had them dropped to their deaths one by one into the scalding water of the boiling hot spring’s upper pool along with Tishomingo’s three sons. The Chickasaw chieftain was then thrown into the pool by Desoto himself after first running him threw with his sword.’
“I cringed as Grandpa said this, scarcely believing Desoto’s brutality, whose exploits were barely touched upon during my education.
“‘What a way to go,’ deadpanned Jeremy, always the cynic. ‘I’ll bet they wished he’d just finished them off at the village like he did the others.’
“‘Actually it was even worse,’ Grandpa told us. ‘The conquistadors waited around the lower pool, where that thing crawled out and chased us today. Eventually, Tishomingo and his family’s remains drifted down into the pool and the conquistadors fished them out of the water and scattered them throughout the clearing for the wild animals and scavengers to devour. According to what Dr. Stratton knew on the subject, the intense heat from the water cooked them like stew meat, the flesh eventually separating from the bones. An easy matter at that point to scatter body parts.’
“Now Jeremy grimaced.
“‘How’d anyone know about that, Grandpa?’ he asked. ‘It sure as hell wasn’t mentioned when I was in school, and I’ll bet not for you two either.’
“‘It wasn’t, just like most of the awful things that happened to Native Americans,’ said Grandpa, his tone regretful. ‘One of the Chickasaw warriors survived, watching this horror from a safe distance, probably ashamed he didn’t have the guts to come to Tishomingo’s family’s defense and die valiantly. The only eyewitness, no written accounts were ever found from Desoto or his men to verify….’
“Suddenly, Grandpa straightened up in his chair as if listening to some sound unheard by either Jeremy or me. His expression grew serious and the worry that’d been lingering returned full force into his eyes.
“‘What’s wrong, Grandpa?’ I asked.
“‘Probably nothing,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back.’
“He stepped over to one of the dining room windows and peered through the blinds. Then he walked past both of us, heading into the living room and on over to the gun case. He grabbed his shotgun, loaded it, and proceeded from room to room throughout the old farmhouse, shutting and locking every window as h
e went. A few minutes later, the sudden hum of the air conditioner broke the silence. Creaks upon the stairs told us we could expect Grandpa’s return at any moment.
“‘So, what was it?’ asked Jeremy, once he returned.
“‘Nothing,’ said Grandpa. ‘Just a feeling, I guess. I thought I heard someone, or something, brush against these windowpanes from outside. I checked everything and brought this along just in case.’
“He patted the palm of his hand against the gun’s butt, much like he’d done two nights before in the kitchen.
“‘I think I’ll speed this up a bit. Just a few more things and then we’ll break for a snack or dessert if you’d like. How’s that sound?’
“‘We both gave him an enthusiastic nod.
“‘One thing I thought about while shutting things up around here were the ‘miahluschkas’ from Jack’s story last night,’ he said, once he sat down again. ‘Dr. Stratton mentioned them, too. But I’m not sure his miahluschkas and yours are the same. His miahluschkas were part of the legends of the Cherokee, Choctaw, and Chickasaw tribes. There could be other tribes that believed in them, too, I suppose.
“‘They’re assigned spirits, if you will, who’ve been charged to protect sacred burial grounds and meeting places. These spirits are bound to this arrangement until the end of time, or until the bones they’re guarding are completely dissolved into Mother Earth. A lot of hauntings have been attributed to them. That happens when, whether by intent or even inadvertently, the sacred grounds are disturbed in some way—like the Bell Witch legend up in Tennessee you once asked me about, Jeremy.
“‘Anyway, Jack, your miahluschkas seem quite different. Maybe their role is unique in Genovene’s world. They remind me of an old Cherokee legend about a race of tiny people living in Appalachia several hundred years ago. I forget their Indian names, but in English they were referred to as the ‘moon-eyed people’ by the Cherokee, with real pale skin and eyes completely gray. They couldn’t see so well in the full light of day.
