“On this continent, the Indians placed a much higher emphasis on spiritual things, like the idea of achieving oneness with Mother Earth and the Great Spirit. They didn’t concern themselves with amassing gold and precious gems. Even so, most tribes still believed in an ancient and largely forgotten golden metropolis, and that its location could only exist upon holy ground. This usually meant a place where the earth’s energy is closer to the ground’s surface, where it’s easily detected if one knew what to look for.’
“‘You mean, like some place similar to the hot spring we saw today?’ Jeremy suggested.
“‘Precisely!’ Grandpa was extremely pleased by his response, which told him my brother was still interested in what he had to say. ‘Y’all can probably imagine what a madman like Desoto would do. He went on an endless search for this fabled city, thinking he could plunder it and make himself immensely rich and powerful in the process. Other than a rumor here and there, he never found it. 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. According to Dr. Stratton, many members of the tribe had recently seen a golden ‘mountain’ looming high above the trees near what would later become known as the Tombigbee River. When Desoto arrived at the Chickasaws’ village, he’d just missed a sighting of this immense object the day before. Tishomingo, who was the tribe’s chieftain, pointed him to the area the most recent event took place. The conquistador leader set off across the river and into the woods, ending up with his army in the very clearing we visited today, finding only 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 brought instead 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 upper pool by Desoto himself after first running him threw with his sword.’
“I cringed as Grandpa said this, scarcely believing the brutality of Desoto, whose exploits were barely touched upon during my education.
“‘What a way to go,’ deadpanned Jeremy. ‘I’ll bet they all wished he’d just finished them off at the village like he did the others.’
“‘Actually it was even worse than that,’ Grandpa told us. ‘The conquistadors waited around the pool below the boiling one, where that thing crawled out after 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 you or I would cook stew meat, with the flesh eventually separating from the bones. It was an easy matter at that point to scatter the body parts throughout the area.’
“Now Jeremy grimaced as well. ‘How’d anyone know about this, 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,’ Grandpa said in a regretful tone. ‘Apparently, though, one of the Chickasaw warriors survived and watched the awful event from a safe distance, probably ashamed he didn’t have the guts to come to Tishomingo’s family’s defense and die valiantly with them. He was the only eyewitness to this gruesome event that we know of, according to Jack Stratton’s records, obviously there are no written accounts available from Desoto or his men to verify this.’
“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 him.
“‘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 and loaded it, and proceeded to go from room to room throughout the old farmhouse, shutting and locking every window as he 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. He soon walked back into the dining room, armed and ready to protect his beloved home and family.
“‘So, what was it?’ Jeremy asked, now a little nervous himself.
“‘Nothing, really,’ said Grandpa. ‘It’s just a feeling, I guess. I thought I heard someone, or something, brush against these windowpanes from outside the house. 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. ‘Since I’ve still got a ways to go, I thought I’d tell y’all a few more things and then we’ll break for a snack or dessert if you’d like. How’s that sound?’
“‘We both nodded that’d be fine.
“‘Sorry, boys, about the gruesome details on some of this stuff,’ he apologized. ‘I’ll try and tone it down some, if I can. I’ve pretty much got to tell my story straight up in order to get it out after all these years.’ His eyes grew misty and he helped himself to another long drink from his beer. After he finished it and wiped his mouth on his forearm, he sat the near empty bottle back down on the dining room table and resumed his story.
“‘One thing I thought about while shutting things up around here were the ‘miahluschkas’ from Jack’s story last night,’ Grandpa said. ‘Dr. Stratton mentioned them, too. But I’m not sure his miahluschkas and yours are the same ones or not. 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.
“‘The miahluschkas I’m familiar with are assigned spirits, if you will, who’ve been charged to protect sacred burial grounds and meeting places. They’re supposedly the restless souls of deceased tribe members who either died dishonorably in battle, or who brought other shame upon themselves and their people. Hence, they’re forced to walk the earth with their only redemption coming from the successful protection of the very souls they failed to honor during life. Which is to say they must guard the tribe’s final resting-place and whatever artifacts were sent with them in death.
“‘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. It happens when, whether by intent or even inadvertently, the sacred grounds are disturbed in some way—like the Bell Witch legend up in Tennessee that you once asked me about, Jeremy.
“‘Anyway, Jack, your miahluschkas seem quite different from these others. Maybe their role’s different in Genovene’s world. The only thing that sounds similar to them is 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-eye people’ by the Cherokee, for their skin was as white as snow and their eyes completely gray. They couldn’t see well in the full light of day as a result of their condition.
“‘According to this legend, these people were forced to leave Appalachia by the Native Americans moving into the area at that time. Their existence was partially responsible for the lack of fear many southern tribes displayed when first encountering the European settlers, since most southeastern tribes had reportedly encountered these mysterious white people at one point or another.’ Grandpa paused and shook his head. Then he smiled sheepishly at us. We were both still with him, although Jeremy had begun drumming his fingers again. ‘Sorry once again about g
etting sidetracked, boys,’ said Grandpa. ‘Why don’t we grab some dessert, and I’ll get this story moving quicker.’
“‘We all got up and went into the kitchen where Grandpa and I helped ourselves to a piece of pie, while Jeremy helped himself to another cigarette. When we were ready to return to the dining room, Grandpa and Jeremy grabbed a beer and I picked up another soda. We sat down at the table again and Grandpa continued where he left off.
“‘All right then, so where were we? Oh, yes, the golden city,’ he said. ‘Dr Stratton felt that if the city had a permanent home in North America, it had to be in Alabama or Mississippi, since most of the folklore came from these two areas. As time moved on, the white and black folks in this country began adding stories of their own. He showed us actual written accounts of settlers seeing a golden light glistening just above the tree line from far off, only to find it no longer there by the time they reached the area. He even showed us a couple of very old plantation diaries, where the slave owners complained angrily that some of their slaves were lying to protect other slaves who’d run off. Several entries in these diaries were eerily similar, stating the missing slave or slaves in question were last seen sleepwalking into the nearby woods, while none of the other slaves could shake them awake or dissuade them from their course. These unfortunate folks were never seen or heard from again.
“‘Most accounts centered around Natchez, Mississippi, and here in our own neck of the woods, although there hasn’t been a reported sighting in the Natchez area since just before the Civil War, when the hot spring near the Mississippi River suddenly dried up. There’s nobody left that even remembers exactly where it was located. Some folks argued vehemently years ago with Jack Stratton, saying that the hot spring never even existed—despite the documentation he’d tirelessly gathered and presented to the contrary.
“‘Here in our area, there’s been a steady stream of sightings and strange occurrences among non-Indian folks since the place was first settled nearly three hundred years ago. Even at the old fort, there were stories of people disappearing without a trace. Perhaps the fort was closed on account of this, but it didn’t stop the phenomenon from continuing on up to the present day. It’s definitely how we came to use the phrase ‘The ‘Season’’ around these parts. I know my grandmother used it on several occasions when somebody from here turned up missing. She only jumped the gun one time I know of.
“‘Oh, and about the talisman intended for me... Monty accused me of hiding it from him and was going to beat me up. I was afraid of him because even though I could outrun him, he was still much bigger than I was at the time. He screamed at me from the top of his lungs, he was so angry about this, demanding for me to hand it over to him. I finally had to tell him I’d already given it to Lisa Ann and she’d in turn given it to her great uncle. I cried, thinking he’d go ask for it back, but he didn’t.
“‘It may just be a coincidence, though I seriously doubt it. A homeless man named Virgil Hannah once hung out near the feed lot, which was in business even way back then. At that time, it was owned and operated by Pete Aderley’s daddy, Shannon Aderley. Anyway, Lisa Ann said Virgil started keeping an eye on the Stratton farmhouse and acting real suspicious. This took place not long after Monty and I had our tiff, which was near the Stratton’s yard when it happened.
“‘A few days later, Dr. Stratton went to look for the talisman in his room. But, it was nowhere to be found. Folks didn’t lock their doors around here back then since they didn’t feel they needed to, so it would’ve been easy enough for anyone to take it. The talisman was never again seen by the doctor or anybody else. Neither was Virgil—not by anyone. He simply vanished from the area...’ Grandpa’s voice trailed off, and he remained quiet for a moment. A wan smile was on his face.
“‘When I was twenty, my life changed forever,’ he told us when he was ready to speak again. ‘That’s how old I was when I met Elsie Smith, your grandma. Lord, she was the prettiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on. I quite forgot about Lisa Ann Stratton, though we remained friends. I’m sure it hurt her that the romantic feelings I had when I was eight steadily declined until they died altogether when I was a young teenager. She eventually married, twice actually, but not before she was in her early thirties. Dr. Jack Stratton was long gone by then. He passed away during my senior year in high school. The funeral was closed casket, and for a long time a rumor persisted among the older folks in Carlsdale that he’d faked his death here in order to live out his final days down in Colombia, where it was rumored he had another estate.
“‘I almost believed this, but it didn’t feel right. My opinion now is he became a victim of the mysterious city he’d spent most of his life tracking down. I think he’s the old man Jack met while hiding in the village garden yesterday.’
“Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise at this statement and finished his beer. Like me, he’d been following Grandpa’s story closely. But this last bit caught him off guard, and he seemed to be searching his memory for the details from my story to verify what Grandpa just said.
“‘I’ll come back to this point if we need to, Jeremy,’ Grandpa told him, since he knew I’d already made the connection. ‘For now, I’d like to move on, so we’re not sitting here till the wee hours of the morning. Is that all right with you?’
“My brother nodded and then looked over at me suspiciously.
“‘Thanks, boys, I do appreciate it. We’re about to enter some pretty tough territory for me. Please, bear with me if I struggle some with this. As you may be aware, Elsie and I dated for a good three years before I proposed to her. I remember being a nervous wreck on the day I asked her to marry me. Hell, it took me nearly six months to work up the courage just to do it in the first place! I don’t know why I was so nervous because I knew she had wanted to get married for some time. As soon as I popped the question to her she cried ‘yes!’ and threw her arms around my neck so hard I thought she might break it.’
“Grandpa laughed as he recalled this, and tears formed in his eyes. He smiled tenderly, wiping his eyes with the side of his forearm again. ‘I think we both knew in our hearts we’d be married someday from the very moment we met,’ he said. ‘We officially tied the knot the following spring, and after we got married, we lived for a couple of years in a small bungalow across the tracks since it was closer to town. But Papa died when I was twenty-six and Momma needed help keeping this place up, especially since my grandma was still alive, though she was pretty feeble by then. She passed away a year later, while Elsie was pregnant with your mom.
“‘Once Julie was born that summer, this house came to life like it’d never done before. She was truly something special, and as pretty as her mother with the same auburn hair and hazel eyes. Her smile seemed to light up her face and she definitely lit up a room the minute she entered it. She was smart, too, but I guess I’m getting away from the point of my story again.’ Grandpa exhaled slowly in an attempt to maintain his composure and then finished his beer. He stood up from the table and asked us if we’d like another drink from the kitchen, since he was going to get himself another beer. We both agreed to that, and he left us for a moment.
“Since it was getting later in the evening, he turned on the kitchen light and walked over to the door leading out to the back porch. He turned on the outside lights as well, and briefly opened the back door to take a look outside. Satisfied nothing was amiss in the backyard, he closed and locked the door again. He grabbed another soda for me along with a couple more beers for himself and Jeremy, and walked back into the dining room.
“Hopefully, I can finish this rambling monologue before we’re finished with these,’ he said as he handed us our drinks. He sat his bottle upon the table, and then turned on the room’s chandelier. Suddenly he frowned, and moved over to the French-paned windows, peering carefully between the blinds.
“What’s up now, Grandpa?’ I asked.
“I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘Maybe it’s just paranoia or perhaps the f
act I haven’t slept well these past few nights. I keep feeling like someone’s listening to us over here by the windows. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling, and I’ve checked three times now and there’s nothing going on outside that I can see.’ He closed the blinds again, shaking his head as he returned to his seat.
“‘I almost got one of these for you, Jack, but I still think you should wait a couple of years before indulging in this stuff. Hell, Jeremy had to wait until he was nearly sixteen before I agreed to let him have a beer in this house.’ Grandpa nodded and gave me a playful wink.
“‘That’s okay,’ I told him, thinking to myself how little he knew about my older brother’s exploits over the past five years.
“‘I intend to finish this before you boys are done with your drinks,’ he said. ‘Don’t try and make a liar out of me, Jeremy, in order to finagle another beer from your dear old grandpa.’
“Jeremy smiled slyly, but neither Grandpa nor myself thought he’d take advantage of him this time.
“‘There weren’t any more encounters with a talisman around here, at least not for many years,’ resumed Grandpa. ‘Not until Julie was all grown up and married, and you two lads were among us. Oh, but wait. Let me correct myself. There was one encounter I’d almost completely forgotten about until last night. Jack, you know the little girl in the village you told us about, the one called Allyson?’
“Yeah.’
“Your mom had a friend, her best friend, whose name was Allyson Carter. She disappeared without a trace when your mom was a little girl. Allyson lived on the other side of the Palmer place with her mom and older brother. There used to be a house sitting in the field over there, up until maybe twenty years ago.’
“‘I’ll bet anything it’s the same girl, Grandpa!’ I agreed, eager to learn what he knew about her.
“‘I recall you told us last night that your mom’s spirit seemed partial to her,’ he said. ‘She certainly seems to be the same person. For Jeremy’s benefit, and to give you some missing information, Jack, I’ll tell you both everything I know concerning her disappearance.
The Golden Talisman Page 30
