by Stephy Smith
****
Sarah climbed the hill to her husband's, mother's, and father's graves every day. She spent an hour or more talking to them while she pulled the weeds that were demanding to take over the family plot, confined within the wrought iron fence. Carrying water up the hill to the four red rose bushes planted in each corner of the fence was hard on Sarah. Her efforts paid off when the thorny stems sprouted tiny leaves and buds of new life.
Crisp air filled the cemetery with a peaceful feeling. The songs of meadowlarks floated on the soft breeze. Cottontails timidly hunched down in the tall golden grass, as Sarah softly spoke to her family. In the distance, she spotted a deer grazing on the tender green grass beginning to make its appearance. She felt she could stay here to rest her weary body before reluctantly walking down the hill to her house.
Things at the bottom of the hill turned her life into a living nightmare. Sarah didn't know if she should question her own sanity or if something was trying to make her leave her peaceful home.
It had been three months since Sarah found her mother. She was getting used to being alone, not having to worry about what to cook or if her mother's laundry was done. Her mother's constant calls were no longer expected but wanted. Tears threatening to fall from her eyes as the crushing feeling made its way into her broken heart once more. Glancing at the three crosses resting on the rolling hill gave her courage to smile.
Haunting dreams continued to invade her sleep. Whatever these things were, when she entered her cabin she knew she was not alone. Her sleep was disturbed nightly when she woke to terror filled darkness and unfamiliar voices calling her name at all hours. The visits ground on Sarah's nerves and sent her heart racing. Even after waking, she could hear voices echoing in her mind.
"Sar-rah, Sar-rah," one of the ghastly, crackling voice said.
"What do you want from me?" Sarah screamed before huddling in a far corner of her bed and clutching bed covers to her chest. Eyes wide and body trembling, Sarah could feel her legs leaving her powerless to move.
"You must burn the little cabin and come with us," the eerie voice called to her. Sarah covered her ears, trying to ignore the creepiness of the deep, cold, unfeeling ghost that appeared against the far wall of her tiny bedroom.
She couldn't see a face, but she could tell he was short and dressed in a black cloak that hung well below his knees, if he would've had knees.
"Yes, you must burn the cemetery to release the spirits there." The soft voice of a woman close to her ear caused her hair to spike. Sarah could feel the tiny, frail shadow ghost as it sat on the edge of the bed. She forced herself further back into the corner, tears streamed down her face, unable to scream out as she tried to clear her mind of ghostly visions.
The menacing noises and deafening laughter circled wildly above her head as more unrelenting ghastly souls join the two ghosts. The taunts and torture continued for hours throughout the night. Right before daybreak, the tormenting disappeared and Sarah collapsed on the bed from fatigue.
Sarah slept only an hour before she forced herself to crawl out of bed to do her morning chores. Her nerves on edge, she listlessly made her way to the barn. The thought that she was causing spirits with her own guilty conscious and depression entered her mind. She tried to convince herself of this until she went to get the Dutch oven from her mother's cabin.
As soon as she stepped in, strange events started happening. A shiver ran down her spine. The abandoned home set Sarah's skin to tingle while she tried to tidy up the place. The never-ending watchful eyes of the unknown bore down upon her, cutting deep into her soul. She was determined not to flee from the spirits that had taken over her life. Her heart picked up a pace as she continued the household chores.
She brought in her clean linens and spread it over the feather mattress that she had aired out over the past three days. However, a pungent odor quickly replaced the fresh clean smell. She bleached feathers that she collected over the years to make a new mattress. Still, the rancid smell of rotten meat returned to the area. It was so strong that she couldn't tell if was coming from inside or outside of the cabin.
Sarah opened windows and the door to allow fresh air in while she scrubbed the wooden kitchen table with a brush and lye soap. She moved the furniture in search of an animal that may have found its way in and died inside the room. She searched behind the wood burning stove, the solid oak bureau, and under the antique china hutch that her great-grandma had brought from Ireland when she came to the states. No sign of any kind of animals, dead or alive, was found in the cabin.
Her mother's articles were disappearing right before her eyes. Some moved from one location to another when she reached to dust them. Whatever this thing was seemed to want to play some kind of silly game with her. This spirit was so much nicer than the ones occupying her cabin. After her brother and sisters left, she had cleaned her mother's cabin. With each return, trinkets and other items appeared in different locations than where she had put them. They consequently turned the place topsy-turvy.
Sarah walked the short distance to her own cabin and placed her cleaning supplies inside the door. The barn door creaked from the slight breezed that passed. She watched for a moment and then crossed the distance to the barn. Once inside, she picked up the pitchfork and tossed loose straw into Betsy's stall. She replaced the bedding in the chicken's nest and then headed toward her own cabin.
The ghost lights flashed from her mother's dark, empty windows just long enough to catch her attention. Shivers ran down her spine when she walked from her cabin to the barn. The lights flashed as if on cue when she approached to make her pass. Alarm that she couldn't shake off encased her slender body. The strange spirits possessed her weakened state to the point that she could no longer fight the eerie pull of her cabin.
The whole thing had turned into an uncontrollable situation. The nightmares played a constant assault on Sarah. Her body had grown weak and worn in the last few months. She no longer recognized the woman staring back at her in the mirror. The only peace afforded came from her trips to the cemetery.
Around noon, the sound of bangs from the pots and pans echoed from the open door of her mother's cabin. The noises stopped as she stepped inside to investigate. The spirit seemed to pause to see who entered, then continued as if in the preparation of a meal. Sarah was growing used to the company of the nice ghosts that resided in her mother's little cabin. They were far better than the ones pulling her to return to her own every night.
Sarah made sure to secure the door as she left, only to find it open again when she went to the barn to do her evening chores. The spirits inside the tiny cabin were not of the evil sort like the ones in her own cabin. If she could conjure up enough gumption, she thought she would move into her mother's house. But in her mind it was too soon. Something about taking over possession didn't set right with Sarah.
The force within her own cabin had a horrendous hold on her, forcing Sarah to come back night after menacing night.
The dim glow of the kerosene lamps shone through open shuttered windows and door. The lamps would light by themselves on dark nights. From deep within, Sarah would summon enough courage to make her way to extinguish the lamps and secure the windows and door of her mother's cabin once more.
Shadows danced on walls with music from a fiddle and harmonica on Saturday nights. The noise would shake Sarah awake, and she would approach her mother's cabin, enter, and watch the celebration beckoning her to join as the music continued. She would take a seat in the rocking chair set by the fireplace, as shadowy figures danced freely across the walls in the tiny room.
Sarah was deep in thought over things that were happening. She hoped that they would end, but they continued. She was worried that her mother's spirit was angry with her for not being in the room when she quietly passed into eternal sleep. Where did the other spirits come from that had taken up residence inside the cabin? It seemed as if they were having some kind of family reunion amongst their spirit world. What h
ad she done to bring them back to life?
Exhaustion weakened her once strong body as the fear of nightfall made its approach every night. Sarah didn't want the days to end. As long as the darkness of night stayed away, the evil ghosts in her cabin would stay gone also. The good spirits came both day and night. The ones in her cabin only made appearances in the dark of night.
The deep, dark gray clouds filled the sky. The air took on a chill with the smell of rain that took over her senses. The wind picked up as she heard the pounding hail cross the plains, moving toward her. The thunder in the distance had not yet shaken the ground. The occasional lightning set across the sky, threatening to bring destructive prairie fires. She milked the cow, slopped the hogs, and gathered the eggs, making it to her cabin before the storm hit.
Sarah assumed Shining Moon had been taking care of the morning chores. Each morning when she woke the duties had already been done. Her milk and eggs along with herbs were on her porch by the door. A few times, she had caught a glimpse of his retreating form in the early dawn. He at least let her tend to the evening chores.
She knew he was trying to help. Heat crossed her face. She guessed he knew something was bothering her and she prayed he didn't know what. If he knew, Shining Moon would run straight to her sons and they would all toss her in the back of her wagon to haul her into one of those sanatoriums her siblings talked about. Her hair shifted into her face as she neared the window.
The howling wind outside sent an eerie shiver through her, shooting the length of her body. The intensity of the storm encouraged the ghosts, giving them twice the power on stormy nights. With the impending storm on the way, dread washed over her.
Lightening flashed across the sky as loud claps of thunder sent deafening echoes. Soon to follow would be the hail pounding the roof of the cabin. Sarah sat in her rocking chair, wrapped in a shawl, and waited for the worst. There was only one thing she was sure of, and that was she wouldn't give up her home to the evil spirits. She just didn't know how to take it back from them. Somehow, someway, she was going to have to reach out to someone she could trust.
The night was long and lonely. Sarah braced herself when the air in the cabin turned bitterly cold despite the blazing flames in the fireplace. The hair on her neck and arms stood uninterrupted. Tears streaked down her face. The drumming in her chest threatened to break free of her ribs until the quake of her body rendered her useless to flee the terrorizing voices that beckoned her to burn the place.
She ran for the door. Her screams telling the ghosts to get out did little good. The evil beasts pinned her to the wall, refusing to let her leave the cabin, herself. Their tirade had grown worse. Their little sticker-like pricks whelped her sensitive skin, and some drew tiny specks of blood. The ghosts and laughter disturbed her mind and soul as they continued their assault, until the storm subsided late in the morning.
Drained of all her energy, she hitched the team of horses to the wagon. Sarah wanted to set them at a dead run to escape the nightmare she was caught up in. Pulling back, she resisted the urge so as not to harm the team or wagon. She traveled the short distance across the muddy plains to Eagle Glenn.
The golden rays of the sun beat down on her as she fought to stay upright on the hard, wooden seat of the buckboard. The rain from the storm slowly soaked into the spongy earth. Scattered shade trees were far and few between her home and where her sons, Jessie, Cord, and Travis, made their homes.
Her tired aching body acquired a new pain with the movement of the wagon. The back of the bench cut into her spine. Every ounce of energy drained as if someone had sucked it out of her. The common sense she once had turned to mush inside her skull, or she would have gone to her sons for help before now. What was done was done, and there was no turning back time, nor was there time to regret the decisions she had made in the past. She accepted her fate. If they thought she was crazy, then she probably was.
****
Shining Moon sat on the hill. Sweet Sarah wobbled on the bench of the wagon as she crossed the wide open plains. Since she didn't load her milk cans or egg basket, he assumed she was going to see Jessie. Maybe she would tell him what was going on in her life. Could she have only been toying with his heart while her mother was still alive? Was she only being nice to him because he was helping her with Mrs. Burgess?
Sarah's warning glances, when he came near, saddened him. How could she ask him to stay away with so much mixed emotions shining in her dull eyes? She no longer sought a glance at the hill where he waited for her. Something in her life was amiss, and she didn't want him as a part of it. He couldn't help feeling that more was going on. He had seen it in her eyes when he could get close enough to see them.
With each passing morning, she would appear from her cabin. Her body would stumble across the short distance to the barn. When she emerged, she would rest half way between the barn and the house. His heart clenched, and he would run to her if she fell, but her lifeless eyes told him to stay away. She would scream for him to leave if he asked her what was wrong. Sweet Sarah may push him away, but his heart would always linger with the woman he cared so much about. Shining Moon hid his love for her until she was ready to accept it purely, wholly, and without fear of being criticized by others because he was an Indian.
To enter her house while she was gone wasn't something he would do. He had too much respect to enter without her presence. Until she came to him, he had to show her that he was still her friend. More than a friend. It had taken a while for her to trust him, have faith in him, and to let him administer to her mother.
Why wouldn't she open up and let him try to help her? Her body was so frail, and she reminded him of a living skeleton. Hollow. Dead. He cringed as her body tipped over on the buckboard. He urged his horse into a run until he neared, and then Sarah righted herself.
"Leave me be!" Her grayish pallor etched in his mind.
"You need my help, Sweet Sarah. Why can't you see I am here for you?"
"I do not need your help. I need to be left alone!"
"You cannot mean that."
"I do mean it, and I wish to be left alone, Shining Moon."
"Do you wish to remain friends?"
"No!" Tears pooled in her eyes. He gazed at her and turned his horse toward his village. He hid behind a trove of trees and watched as she bounced around on the wagon, as if she had no spine. Jessie's house came into view, and Shining Moon pulled in a deep breath.
Chapter Five
Jessie stood in the field across from the front view of his home. He stared at the woman in the wagon that approached his whitewood framed, two-story house. He started her way, and she almost fell from the buckboard when she climbed down. Her steps were slow and unsteady. She paused several times next to the tiny white fence lining flowerbeds on both sides of the brick walkway.
A large elm tree that was sprouting new buds attempted to shade the porch. Whoever this lady was, he needed to know why she was in his mother's buckboard. She took a seat in the rocker on his porch, next to the windowed door. Jessie saw her gasp for breath. Windows on each side of the door reached from the floor to the ceiling and stood open to invite fresh, clean spring air inside.
Lifting a frail hand, she pushed back a strand of dull lifeless hair and gazed at him as he arrived on the porch. He held in a gasp when his heart started thumping against his chest. Jessie rubbed his eyes. Could this frail image before him really be his mother?
"Oh, there you are."
Sarah's voice was soft and shaky when she spoke to her oldest son. Hugging his mother, he kissed her hollow cheek. His heart was heavy as he scanned the physical appearance of his mother. "I'm happy to see you Mother. Tell me, what I owe this pleasure to?"
"I want to see my children."
Jessie blinked at how her hands trembled when she reached up and patted his cheek. He knew she was hiding from something or someone. It wasn't like his mother to show up for no reason. Especially in the broken-down state she was in. Sarah had never gone
outside her cabin without looking her best. He had seen her when times were hard, but the woman in front of him looked nothing like anyone he had ever recalled, no matter how tough things got.
"You look tired and worn out. You should get some rest. We can talk later." Jessie helped her from the chair and led her into his house. He stopped at the solid wood door that stood open, leading into the bedroom and the made bed. The curtains floated in the breeze that gently made its way into the room. A large bureau stood against the white wall, next to a tiny closet across the room. He brought in some fresh water and placed it on the small wooden bedside table, covered with a crocheted doily and a kerosene lantern set near the head of the bed.
"I could use a nap. I don't want to impose."
"Oh, Mother, you're not imposing. Go rest. I'll be in shortly." Jessie carried her overnight bag into the room and silently left. His instincts told him to keep quiet about his mother's appearance. Most of the women he knew took their appearance to heart. He didn't want to upset his mother with a worried comment.
The troubled expression on her face was shocking, but he knew better than to press her. She would let him know what was eating at her when she was ready.
Sarah lay upon the feather mattress, sinking into a comforting softness. She fell asleep before he left the room. Jessie shuddered as he took one final glance at her before he closed the door. He crept outside and stood on the porch.
All through the afternoon, his desire to check on her every five minutes made for a long and grueling day. He didn't know whether he should go for the doctor or one of his brothers. Jessie forced himself to wait until he could find out more of what was going on. She seemed to be fine other than her weakened state.
