At Midnight Evil-bayed
(a short
story-tale)
“E---v---i---l!” Echoed through
my fitful nightmare-dream coaxing reluctant consciousness.
An
“animal”-cry of self-inflicted pity pierced black velvet dark in an inhuman
hollow octive. I sat straight up amongst the tasseled blanket-cover, drenched
in a putrid smelling sweat that made me wretch and deny that such demonic-odor
might emanate from me.
“That
was momma’s voice?” I queried my confused memory, picturing her lovely, gentle
face, while my mind refused to affix the evil-lonesome tone to the usual
pleasant sound of her angelic voice. Some evil, wild prehistoric animal must be
“witching” my senses---but, still…as vile as was the terror-howl, as hard as I
tried to deny, that “death”-call belonged to my sainted mother. I cringed and
closed tight my eyes, trying in vane to erase the “Midnight Evil-bay”!
Grabbing
my long sleeved winter shirt from the bedpost, I slipped it on and went to the
ladder in the loft-hole leading down to the main floor of the little cabin;
older brother James opened one eye far enough to catch a glowing reflection of
the flames in the fireplace below. Silently, his “look” warned me not to
interfere; to go back to bed and mind my own affairs. I ignored him.
The
previous day had been particularly pernicious to our family members living deep
in the dark woods along the river at the base of Clanton-knob; for ten days
running, a “mean-spirited” hank had
invaded our safe-harbor sanctuary from an evil world. In the tortuous ten days
nature took to complete her evil-deed against our humanity had built its terror
to a screaming, yet vacant, crescendo turning an avalanche of collective
“denial” into a cascading hell of reality.
Our Peppermint-girl
had succumbed---given up the “good” fight and…died!
How
God could take such a precious child from among those who loved the girl more
than life itself seemed not only to be impossible, but fully, implausible. Yet,
it had happened. The good doctor had plied his medical potents, his “modern”
medicine trickery; we had prayed and pleaded and begged; the preacher even came
and said his church-sacred words to fend off the vile assault. They bathed her;
anointed her tiny body in precious oils; sang religious chants.
All
to no avail---some things are completely beyond a “hope” and “wish”…just, meant
to be.
Even
I had done my very best for I dearly loved our little “peppercorn”-darling; of
my seven siblings, she was the youngest, only even now, early in her second
year. I prayed for her deliverance from the ailment, for her complete recovery
and a long life filled with happiness. I swore off tobacco which, secretly, I
despised as the hot-sting of acrid smoke burned my lungs for days; I also
promised to avoid the sacrilege of swear words, a mimic of my Pap and brothers.
How
I had teased Pepper; we had laughed. Oh! My! How would I survive such
evil-horror?
I
went down the ladder into the warmth of the main room warmed by the huge
fireplace; winter-cold was a stark reminder of frosty nights in the attic where
we bedded; I should have, and, under normal circumstances would have savored
the comfort-warmth, but, not tonight---not on this evil-demon damnable dark menace. In momma and pap’s
bedroom I heard her crying.
Quiet
as a mouse on a foray through the staples in the pantry larder, I slipped the
rawhide latch on the heavy log door and stepped into a biting cold that
literally took my breath away. I paused, realizing my metaphor spoke ugly
truths about the night and Pepper’s own vacant breath.
I
went to the oak at the edge of the yard; in dim light I made out the twin
vertical hanging ropes of the swing I had built for Pepper. My intent had been
to take down the entertainment, not wanting to ever see it enjoyed again by
another human being---it was Peppermint’s swing!
As
my bare fingers touched the ropes, my breath caught and the too thin dam of my
eyes which had held back the river-of-tears behind them, cracked, then failed
completely; I suddenly found myself sitting on the ground with my face on the
swing seat, crying like a baby.
Sometime
later, I recovered enough strength, somehow, to rise and force myself to
retrace earlier steps back toward the cabin. The fire had died back,
considerably, so I banked the coals and fired the hearth-box with a fresh fuel
supply from the storage pile. Quickly, mock fireworks shot red spark-flames up
the chimney as dried cedar logs ignited; tiny droplets of trapped water inside
the wood heated and then exploded showering the cavity. Usually curious and
interested in the phenomenon, this dreary night of dread precluded any
entertainment.
The
girls saw to the preparations for the wake; momma dressed Peppermint in a red
and white striped dress. At first sight of that display, all eyes flooded.
Penny Peppermint sticks from the town mercantile General-Store was Pepper’s
very favorite. The reminder was overwhelming.
Members
of our large clan all came to pay their respects and I heard the same monotone
words of condolences and offers of kindness too many times to count. I knew
they were all being polite in a strange situation where there is no right-way to express oneself. Friends
and neighbors filled our little cabin as they paid a final tribute to little
Peppermint. Church members made the obligatory presentation of care and concern
and the preacher crooned a very fine eulogy.
By
the time the event had ended, I was all cried-out. Numbness replaced any
emotion. Dead!
The
only time I ever witnessed Pap cry a tear was the day they lowered Pepper in
the ground.
I
think momma cried perpetually after that terrible incident; she never seemed to
fully smile, again. Each of them made the best of a dire situation; they were
good people and loved us all.
Christmas
came and went, as had the Thanksgiving Day holiday. We celebrated without
enthusiasm as the death was much too fresh for any heartfelt festivities. We
had a small tree that year and momma and the girls decorated it beautifully.
Somebody hung a penny Peppermint stick on the branch after everybody had gone
to bed Christmas eve. No one ever admitted to the touching thought---I used a
bright new shiny penny to buy that extravagance!
Funny
thing, I reckon, that one such as I might work in a bank; life can be quite
strange.
I
finished eighth grade and got a smattering of two years of high school, but
acedemics did not suit my fancy. Pepper’s premature passing set me to wondering
if life was meant for living.
I
could take a pile of coin money and “feel” the number of it by weight; I
couldn’t count nor cipher worth a tinker’s damn; my “talent” earned me a reputation and the
bank hired me. With a bit of “jingle” in my pocket and an eye for the ladies, I
did quite well for myself---for a while.
When
I surreptitiously caught the bank manager helping himself to “free” bank money,
I approached old man Mertz, the owner of the establishment, and told him what I
had seen.
Mr.
Collingsworth, the manager, was the old man’s brother-in-law---and…I was fired!
Some
damn fool, or another, started another war somewhere for some dumb reason and I
joined up filled with Patriotic-vigor and naïve expectations; I was twenty
years old.
Some
of the girls cried, a bit, perhaps, and, I uniformed-up, grabbed a rifle and
went to war.
Four
years later and seemingly fifty-years
more educated, I returned to the mountain. Never has been nor will be a damn politico with an honest word or a
selfless thought. C’est la vie!
I
married the beautiful Betty Lynn and we have a little redheaded girl---named…Peppermint!
I
just bought her a peppermint stick---they cost a full nickel…now!
Amen!
Plus:
Day 204
Building the swimming
pool at New Hanover,
Maeystown and,
again, New Hanover
As
a kid I always wanted my own backyard private swimming pool; I got several.
When we built our first house on the bluff
overlooking the river valley on ten acres with a view to rival the Ozarks, I
decided to put in a pool. Now, such endeavor is a very expensive proposition,
and I was painfully aware of the financial obligation. So---I “plunged” forward!
I found a guy through a friend who sold pool
“kits” to non-contractors. Haggling with the horse-trader (me, too) we arrived
at a price and sealed the deal. I hired another guy with a high-lift and
backhoe who also agreed to cut his regular price.
I
laid out the site, supervised the digging of a hole just off the back patio and
below the large upstairs deck; poured concrete footings with reinforcement
steel rods embedding the stainless steel walls in the mix having bolted the
panels together with stainless nuts and bolts torqued sown. Then, I installed
the necessary plumbing fixtures and parts, wired the recirculating pool pump
properly grounding the electric, dropped a printed vinyl liner into the coping
slot and hauled water from town with a rented 1,500gallon tank; as the inside
level of the water rose filling the deep end and spilling over onto the
shallow, I backfilled with river sand to keep the inner and outer pressure
equal.
When
the water filled the pool, I fired up the pool pump, then levelled the sand
around the outside coping to accommodate a 4” X 4’ concrete deck with a slight
slope. This, I formed with 2 X 4’s laying out more re-bar for strength and
ordered concrete. With some help, we laid down the deck and finish-troweled it.
In well under a week of work---cool, refreshing…swimming. After a week to allow
the new concrete to cure, I installed a diving board at the 8’deep end.
Ambition and ingenuity can
accomplish---anything…even a “poor” kid’s dumb ideas!
I reckon that’s been proven often enough in
this recalcitrant “dreamer’s” life! Amen!
Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Cannonball!” Memories!
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