Decoration Day?”
“How did you guess?”
“I’ve noticed that it is a very important day to the people of this town. Everyone uses it as a marker like New Year’s Day. It’s almost like it’s a religious holiday.”
“We need to keep walking. Doctor’s orders.” Marsh patted him on the shoulder to get him moving.
Both men ambled through the garden. They passed a bed of marigolds. The orange and yellows exploded with color like Fourth of July fireworks. The smell from the blooms wafted to David on the damp air. He couldn’t remember such pungent marigolds. The smell reminded him of the hot summertime and his grandmother. He recognized all the flowers today, unlike the last time he visited the garden.
“Our past is important to us,” Marsh said. “That is why we hold Decoration Day so dear.”
David could still smell the marigolds. The smell almost spoke in the voice of his grandmother. He understood the importance of ancestors too. It still didn’t answer the question about the particular day.
“What happens after Decoration Day?” he asked.
This time Marsh stopped walking, and David continued into the rain. The minister returned to the shelter of the umbrella. The other man stared at him as if some great question of the ages had been popped on him without any notice. David waited for the answer. Time passed with the tom-tom beating of the rain on the umbrella’s fabric.
“Nothing,” Marsh finally said. “Everything continues just as is.”
“Why doesn’t the grocery store order fresh food, then? Every time I ask, they say it is because the town cannot eat the surplus before Decoration Day. That tells me something changes on Monday,” David said.
“I don’t know,” Marsh said. “You are asking questions that I cannot answer. All I can say is that it’s the way it has always been done.”
Frustration built up in David. Since he had been there, the town seemed to be keeping secrets and then blocking him from discovering them. He tired of the games and would put all his cards on the table.
“Something more is going on, Alistair. I haven’t been dreaming, have I? Something comes to me at night and in the daylight. I’ve heard you and the others talking about how I am the one, and how this thing seems to like me. Tell me now what is going on.”
“We should go back in before all this moisture negatively affects you,” Marsh said.
“No. We stay here, and you answer my question.” David grabbed hold of the other man’s arm. He gripped it tightly enough to dig his fingernails into the skin.
“Our town is cursed,” Marsh said. “We have been waiting for a preacher who can lift it.”
“What do you mean?” David asked, keeping hold of Marsh’s arm.
“We decorate the monuments to our ancestors to remember the Battle of Innsboro. They were massacred before the battle. We were so angry that the town elders petitioned a great power and sold the soul of the town to it for victory. It granted our petition, and we have been cursed ever since.”
“The town sold its soul to the Devil?” David asked.
“Not to the Devil, to something far more powerful, an ancient thing that you cannot understand. The exposure you’ve had to it in spirit form has nearly killed you. That is why we are trying to keep you from it as long as possible. On Decoration Day, you will vanquish it, and we will be accursed no more.”
“I’m a sacrifice?” David let go of Marsh’s arm.
“No.” The answer came quicker than David would have liked. “According to the contract with the thing, a man of the One God will come and free us.”
“So what happened to the preachers who haven’t succeeded?”
“They leave,” Marsh said.
“All I have to do is preach?”
“That’s it. I think this great old thing is trying to stop you because you will break the contract. We’ve waited so long,” Marsh said, almost looking excited.
“Why didn’t you tell me this from the start?”
“You wouldn’t
“How did you guess?”
“I’ve noticed that it is a very important day to the people of this town. Everyone uses it as a marker like New Year’s Day. It’s almost like it’s a religious holiday.”
“We need to keep walking. Doctor’s orders.” Marsh patted him on the shoulder to get him moving.
Both men ambled through the garden. They passed a bed of marigolds. The orange and yellows exploded with color like Fourth of July fireworks. The smell from the blooms wafted to David on the damp air. He couldn’t remember such pungent marigolds. The smell reminded him of the hot summertime and his grandmother. He recognized all the flowers today, unlike the last time he visited the garden.
“Our past is important to us,” Marsh said. “That is why we hold Decoration Day so dear.”
David could still smell the marigolds. The smell almost spoke in the voice of his grandmother. He understood the importance of ancestors too. It still didn’t answer the question about the particular day.
“What happens after Decoration Day?” he asked.
This time Marsh stopped walking, and David continued into the rain. The minister returned to the shelter of the umbrella. The other man stared at him as if some great question of the ages had been popped on him without any notice. David waited for the answer. Time passed with the tom-tom beating of the rain on the umbrella’s fabric.
“Nothing,” Marsh finally said. “Everything continues just as is.”
“Why doesn’t the grocery store order fresh food, then? Every time I ask, they say it is because the town cannot eat the surplus before Decoration Day. That tells me something changes on Monday,” David said.
“I don’t know,” Marsh said. “You are asking questions that I cannot answer. All I can say is that it’s the way it has always been done.”
Frustration built up in David. Since he had been there, the town seemed to be keeping secrets and then blocking him from discovering them. He tired of the games and would put all his cards on the table.
“Something more is going on, Alistair. I haven’t been dreaming, have I? Something comes to me at night and in the daylight. I’ve heard you and the others talking about how I am the one, and how this thing seems to like me. Tell me now what is going on.”
“We should go back in before all this moisture negatively affects you,” Marsh said.
“No. We stay here, and you answer my question.” David grabbed hold of the other man’s arm. He gripped it tightly enough to dig his fingernails into the skin.
“Our town is cursed,” Marsh said. “We have been waiting for a preacher who can lift it.”
“What do you mean?” David asked, keeping hold of Marsh’s arm.
“We decorate the monuments to our ancestors to remember the Battle of Innsboro. They were massacred before the battle. We were so angry that the town elders petitioned a great power and sold the soul of the town to it for victory. It granted our petition, and we have been cursed ever since.”
“The town sold its soul to the Devil?” David asked.
“Not to the Devil, to something far more powerful, an ancient thing that you cannot understand. The exposure you’ve had to it in spirit form has nearly killed you. That is why we are trying to keep you from it as long as possible. On Decoration Day, you will vanquish it, and we will be accursed no more.”
“I’m a sacrifice?” David let go of Marsh’s arm.
“No.” The answer came quicker than David would have liked. “According to the contract with the thing, a man of the One God will come and free us.”
“So what happened to the preachers who haven’t succeeded?”
“They leave,” Marsh said.
“All I have to do is preach?”
“That’s it. I think this great old thing is trying to stop you because you will break the contract. We’ve waited so long,” Marsh said, almost looking excited.
“Why didn’t you tell me this from the start?”
“You wouldn’t
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