The Hanging Tree

by Michael Phillip Cash

  “I’m going to kill her. We have a rule: you always answer your phone.” Peter was steaming.

  “Maybe the battery’s dead.”

  Peter gripped the wheel tighter and turned the car toward the diner.

  Arielle

  “Okay, stop. I’m done!”

  “I’m not!” Chad held her captive; her shoulders were pinned to the ground.

  “I changed my mind.” She struggled against him, and he placed his leg over her, imprisoning her.

  “It’s too late for that.” Chad’s tone was harsh, his breathing labored.

  “Are you kidding me?” Arielle raised her voice. “Who are you?” she demanded. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight; his hands became aggressive, one holding her wrists together, the other tearing at her shirt. She opened her mouth, but her scream was cut short by Chad’s mouth. He roughly pulled her shirt free of her tight jeans.

  “You’re a tease, Arielle.” He placed his lips on her mouth, absorbing the sound again. Arielle kicked against him, but he was stronger, his work at the gym a sure advantage.

  “Are you going to let him get away with that?” Gibson girl gravitated off her branch, her voice high and agitated. She looked at Goody wildly. “It’s what they did to me. Please, Goody, make him stop!” she pleaded. She placed her hands on her thin chest, knowing that Arielle’s heartbeat would be wild like a caged bird as well. Sniffing, she howled long and hard as memories hit her with tidal force. She kept repeating, “make them stop…make them stop…”

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen to you,” Goody said sadly. “The whole thing got out of hand. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “But I had the right name!” Gibson girl said hotly, her eyes glowing red in the darkness with hurt and anger, she continued acidly, “Muriel Harmond! And you let them do those evil things to me. It has to stop. You have to stop him. You…” Muriel pointed a finger at the old, cunning woman, “…you are making him do this!”

  It was a tense moment in the tree, and the air vibrated with hatred mixed with anxiety.

  They all knew about Gibson girl. They never made her retell her story. It made them all so sad, even Claire, and she didn’t feel pity for anybody. They all watched Chad overpower Arielle on the ground, his hips grinding into hers. She struggled mightily against him, to no avail.

  “Well, he is an asshole, Grandmother.” Claire nodded toward the struggling couple.

  “Oh, aye, that he is. What will it be?”

  “Something to scare the shit out of him,” Arthur added helpfully.

  Goody Bennett, the strongest of the souls, squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated. She pictured a ball of flame in the center of her chest and felt it expand. The heat rose, and so did she become a giant tornado of flame. Whirling toward Chad’s unsuspecting back, she rammed him hard, slamming down the length of him. His breath whooshed out of his body, and he rolled off Arielle, who used the opportunity to scramble up.

  “What’d you hit me with?” He turned on her, breathing hard.

  Arielle’s eyes opened wide as a wall of flame danced around them. She felt the searing heat come close to her face, but it merely warmed her, not harming her. Chad’s clothes, however, smoked in spots. Reaching out, she touched the flame and watched it caress her arm.

  Chad reached out, slapping her arm. “Stop that! Ow!” The fire bit his skin, singeing him.

  Swirling into a cyclone, it spun upward in a spiral until it disappeared into a puff of smoke.

  Both teenagers watched it rise until it popped into a starburst not unlike a grand firework display. “Did you see that? What was that?” Chad looked at the dispersing smoke.

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m leaving. Lose my number, Chad.”

  “Brava, Arielle,” Claire’s hoarse voice whispered.

  “You know you wanted it, Arielle. You said as much last week.”

  “I don’t know what I saw in a loser like you,” Arielle answered hotly.

  “So you’re saying you don’t want to be with me?” Chad asked incredulously.

  “Bing-fucking-o! I’m outta here.” Arielle turned to walk home.

  “Stop, Arielle. I’ll drive you home.” His voice was contrite. He didn’t know what had come over him. He felt like two different people, and one was someone he didn’t know too well. He was feeling limp, defeated, as if the wind had left his sails. His face reddened and he was ashamed of how aggressive he felt a minute ago. It was wrong, and he didn’t know how to explain what had happened to him.

  “I am not getting into that car with you ever again.” Arielle turned her back on him.

  “Fine. I thought you wanted it. You give mixed messages,” Chad shot back as a car’s headlights turned into the lane. He didn’t want the blame to fall on him. It wasn’t fair, he thought petulantly.

  The cat was back, winding its body around Arielle. “Help me find my phone, pretty kitty.” She felt around in the dark, looking for her cell.

  Headlights lit the area as a car pulled up. Arielle shielded her eyes, trying to see who it was. “Leo!” Chad called. “Did you see that?”

  “What?” the youth called back without getting out of the car. “I didn’t see nuthin’. Did you do it?” He nodded at Arielle.

  Chad made a negative sound.

  “Oh, was I too early?” Leo asked with a smirk.

  “Forget about it. Let’s do this.” Chad dusted off his pants and walked to his car. “You stay here.” He pointed to her. “I was going to have you ride with me but forget it. I’ll take you home, and we’ll talk later.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, Chad,” Arielle said primly.

  “Have it your way.” He shrugged, knowing she’d forgive him. She’d have to; he was Chad Harmond, the most desirable boy in the school. He smiled as he jumped into the Camaro. “Start at the top of the fork. First one to where One-oh-six intersects wins.”

  “Oh, no, here we go again. Goody, can you stop this madness?” Martin whispered. “Weren’t we enough for you? I’m not even a Harmond.”

  “I never thought about that.” Muriel looked up, her face tear-stained. “Why did you let them crash?”

  Martin And Arthur

  Oyster Bay, 1916

  “Slow down, Arthur!” Martin yelled as they took the turn onto Route 106 too fast.

  Arthur drank deeply from his flask. “What are you, afraid?” his voice slurred. “This is how they drive the army ambulances in France. Don’t you want to get used to it?” he taunted.

  Martin reached for the wheel, and the two men struggled for control. The headlights lit up the dark street with puddles of light. Both their brains felt fuzzy with alcohol.

  “Watch out!” Arthur shouted as a black cat raced in front of them. It paused, arching its back and screeched loudly. Its eyes glowed like a jack-o-lantern, pinning them so that their backs pressed into the leather upholstery. He felt two wheels lift off the ground, and the car rolled over. As if in slow motion, Martin opened his mouth to scream, but the sound was cut off as their necks snapped; followed by their chests crushing into the interior seats as the car flipped over and over until they rested up against an oak tree. Immobile, they were trapped on the ground, body parts strewn around the tree base. Dazed, they looked at each other, not quite understanding what had just happened. A cackle shook the tree, and the two spied an old crone looking down at them.

  “Welcome aboard, fellas!” she said gleefully.

  “But you still didn’t tell me why,” Muriel wailed. “I don’t understand why?”

  “Just look,” Claire offered gently and gestured to the night sky, where their stories played out.

  The smoking wreck lay in a crumbled heap, the bodies unrecognizable. It was daybreak, and a police car was parked to the side. An officer stood writing notes, measuring tire burns on the single lane. A long limousine with a chauffeur pulled up as the sun lit the sky.

  “Don’t get out, Margaret!” his stepfather ordered.


  It was too late. Margaret Harmond staggered out of the car, falling to her knees beside her son’s twisted body. “Martin…” she wept, trying to hold his head. It was listless in her arms, his eyes sightless, his limbs at unnatural angles. “Oh, my son, my Martin. What have you done?” Gasping, she fell forward, blood seeping from her skirts. Grabbing her belly, she cried out, “The baby!”

  “Margaret!” her husband wailed, his dreams and hers bleeding onto the black road.

  “You took revenge on him because of his stepfather’s child?” Muriel said quietly.

  “A curse is a curse. I don’t pick it. They did. I didn’t drive fast. They did. I didn’t wander the dark roads. You did.”

  “I was following the cat!” Muriel shrieked.

  “It was your own free will. The curse found you,” the older woman told her.

  “You have to stop this!” Muriel stood, facing her. “This is madness. This is evil.”

  “Out of the question. I am spent. Aside from that, they’re too far away already.” Goody Bennett turned her face away from the girl.

  Arielle

  Arielle eyed the tree warily, moving away. Twin headlights moved down the road, the cars racing to see who would win. She heard them honking playfully and just wanted the evening to be over. Once she found her phone, she was calling her father and letting him know he was absolutely right: Chad was a jerk. It was strange; they were distantly related, shared the same grandfather way back in the Middle Ages or something. Her father said they were like ninth cousins. She had told him she didn’t even have to change her name if they married. Wouldn’t that be neat? Arielle Harmond she was, and Arielle Harmond she’d remain. She bit a short fingernail and wondered if that was the real attraction.

  The cars moved forward, their engines revving in the night; she could hear them shifting to higher speeds. They were closer; she could even see that they were playing chicken with each other, moving close, as if to brush against the other, but moving away recklessly. Boys were just stupid. What is this supposed to accomplish? she wondered.

  Another car was coming down the street in the opposite direction. It was a Jeep Cherokee, a white one. “Dad,” she whispered, knowing she was in deep shit now. He saw her from his window and turned the car, sharply heading toward her. The two cars were moving very fast now, caught up in their race. Her father’s vehicle was making a left into their trajectory path. Arielle’s breath caught in her throat.

  Time stopped for a moment; the air was turgid, still, too thick to draw breath. She heard a faint cackle of laughter from the tree, followed by a frantic meow.

  Arielle saw the cat move into the center of the street, into the path of all three cars.

  She could see her father’s white face, his mouth caught in a rictus of horror, Belinda’s eyes frozen on her. In the other direction, Leo’s horn blared as he pressed it relentlessly, telling everyone to move out of the way. Lastly she saw Chad’s face, his arms battling for control of the wheel. Time stood still. Leaping nimbly, she moved into the middle of the street. The light around them had taken on an odd glow; everything looked dusted with gold. Sound had disappeared, and she felt enveloped in a vacuum. It was foolish, running onto this main road, but Arielle knew she had to. The cat locked her gleaming eyes on her and without reservation, she walked toward her in the street. She held her arms out, reaching for the frozen cat, grabbing it while making eye contact with her father, forcing him to swerve onto the median so he would miss her. He collided with the speed sign. The hood of his car crumbled; air bags deployed.

  She stood perfectly still, two racing cars on either side of her, their horns blaring. Willing herself small, she held her breath, closed her eyes. She felt the vibration of their movement, the speed burning her cheeks, the horns screaming in unison. The air prickled her bare arms as the cars rushed past her, her hair flaring like a halo around her face.

  Muriel would have released a breath if she had one, suddenly free, she hopped down from her branch to join Claire at the base of the tree.

  Goody glided off her perch, her wrinkled face wreathed with a peaceful smile.

  She gravitated above Arielle, her hands reaching out to caress her head. “You saved her. You saved my Remedy.”

  Arthur and Martin jumped from their perch, imprisoned no longer. Their bodies were whole, as if they were never mangled on the branch. Arthur brushed the wrinkles from his raccoon coat. “Marty, Remedy was the remedy,” Arthur laughed.

  “Don’t call me Marty,” his friend replied with a smile and tweaked the comma of hair that hung over Arthur’s forehead.

  Arthur smiled back rakishly, his handsome face restored. He patted down his perfect trousers, reached over and took the goggles from Martin’s face. “Much better, you look like yourself, you old thing.” His boyish smile lit up his handsome face.

  “She saved my cat. She saved my cat,” the old woman crooned.

  Arielle petted the purring cat, her eyes watching the two cars as their taillights disappeared down the street. She turned to look at her father, her eyes shining. “Don’t say anything, Dad. You okay? Hi, Belinda.” She ran toward her father, who was inspecting the smoking front end of his car.

  “If I ever see you—”

  “Don’t say it, Daddy.” He was a sucker when she called him that. “You were right. I won’t see him again. Did you get hurt?” She ran into his arms.

  “Did you?” He grabbed her and held her tight, the cat cuddled between the two of them. It meowed in distress and they separated. “What are you doing here?”

  “We were just hanging out. I was looking for my phone to call and ask you to pick me up. He’s not the right boy for me.”

  Her father looked at her and opened his mouth.

  “Enough said, Peter.” Belinda walked over to them from the side of the car. “I told you you could trust her. See if you can drive the car. Let’s go home.”

  “Wait a minute.” Arielle crossed the street to put the cat gently on the ground beneath the tree. “Thank you for helping.” She paused before the large oak, searching the branches. Something was there, she was sure of it, she couldn’t see them, but that didn’t mean anything, she knew that now. She called out to the foliage, “I know you’re there. I think I can feel you.” The air was pulsing with something she didn’t understand, but it made her aware of every hair on her head. In fact, she felt the small hairs stand up on her arms as well. She shivered involuntarily, her eyes scanning for any movement.

  She watched the tree shake a bit, and the outline of an old lady appeared. She looked to be embedded in the tree, as if her wrinkled face was part of the bark. Smiling benignly, she said, “One good deed deserves another. Thank you for saving my cat.” It was a mere whisper, but Arielle heard it and grinned.

  Chad’s car pulling up behind her, she recognized it from its noisy muffler. The headlights lit the entire area. Chad jumped out and walked to her side. They turned to face each other. Arielle glanced and saw Belinda hold out her hand to stay her father, who was spoiling for a fight with the younger man.

  “I’m sorry I led you on. I’m not ready for this.” Arielle smiled at him sadly.

  “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.” They spoke at the same time and laughed.

  “Let’s be friends.” Chad held out his hand.

  “Kissing cousins.” Arielle touched his cheek, waved goodbye, and walked across the street to her father.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Arthur asked.

  “It’s over,” Martin responded.

  “Abraca-fucking-dabra.” Claire glided over to them.

  “Claire, watch thy tongue!” her grandmother admonished.

  “I still don’t understand what happened,” Muriel wailed.

  “Oh, stop your caterwauling,” Claire responded. “There was a curse.”

  “Aye, don’t go blaming my curse. It only worked when you put yourself in danger.” The old woman was lighting a pipe.

  “Goody,”
Arthur called out, “haven’t you heard that smoking will kill you?”

  “I’m going to miss you, Artie. You, too, Marty.” They were already beginning to fade.

  “Why were we here?” Muriel persisted.

  “Trapped by the curse on Harmond. Watch.” Claire pointed to the sky.

  All around her, familiar souls, relations of the ill-fated Harmond clan, began their journeys to freedom. She heard the howls of relief as they moved gracefully to a better place.

  “Why?” Muriel turned to Claire. She recognized many of her relatives.

  “A Harmond caused the curse, and a Harmond released the curse. The girl saved my cat. She risked her own life to save someone dear to me.” Goody Bennett’s face was fading, her features softening in the early morning light.

  The sun rose high, warming the earth, bathing the flowers with light and love. Muriel Harmond found peace at last too.

  Author’s Note

  Oyster Bay was first settled by the Dutch in 1639, Anchoring their ships in a large Long Island bay, it was named for the plentiful and delicious oysters found there. The English settled in the area around 1653. It served as a haven for Quakers fleeing religious persecution from New Amsterdam. Clearly my group of imaginary settlers would not have lived there yet. To my knowledge, there were no witch-hunts, hangings, or burnings in the area.

  There is a legend of a ‘hanging tree’ in the area. It is an overgrown oak that was the scene of a horrific accident in the early years of the 20th century on Route 107 in East Norwich. It is said when the light is just right, you can see and hear the victims sprawled in the branches of the tree. I have been there, and yes, it gives me the creeps.

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