planted for winter
survival.
It
has been a long time since anybody visited. The
caseworker’s inquires didn’t leave Elias’s thoughts the past
few nights. He thought that he shouldn’t have claimed to have known
Angeni. But during the talk Elias’s emotions rushed, and he told
the caseworker an earful. Perhaps the man meant well, although their
conversation went nowhere. The attempt to convince Tony that his
great grandmother was cursed proved to be a lost cause.
Through the window,
dead timber lay stacked on the side of the barn. Elias intended to
chop it into firewood over a month ago, but drinking and lack of
sleep had cast him thin, low priority chores went undone. He went
outside, through the wind and snow, through the barn door and pulled
his wood axe off the shadow board. It had seen better days; the blade
was coming loose and the old-wooden handle had several hairline
cracks. He remembered buying a replacement after moving back to the
land. It’s in the attic.
Elias climbed up the
stairs, and stopped in front of Angeni’s room. His canine shadow
sat at the foot of the stairs with his tail between his legs. One-two-three . Not
knowing the reason why, he counted his attempts on his great
grandmother’s life. Perhaps it was guilt. His people, the Haudenosuanee , where
taught to show their elders the highest level of respect, Elias held
nothing but contempt for Angeni; the cancer that destroyed his entire
family. He had never known the claimed beauty that once was his great
grandmother, only the horror of a woman whose mind was a beacon for
the strangers that lie dormant, outside of life or death.
* * *
One— after
father died, Elias collected rotten crab apples found all around the
Kingbird land and boiled the seeds into a deadly concentration. He
put the cyanide in great grandmother’s water, enough to kill a
bear. She vomited through her shattered mouth shortly after ingesting
it. But she awoke—all the same—the next morning.
Two— when
Meni had taken her own life, Elias unlatched the belt from Meni’s
neck and laid her corpse on the bed. He took the belt in hand into
Angeni’s room across the hallway. When he wrapped the belt around
her neck, a burning orange light flashed in his eyes, and he lost
consciousness, awaking four hours later in the barn with a splitting
headache. Something protected her wretched existence, but Elias had
no idea what it could be.
Three— a
year later, the Kingbird estate was haunted lonely. A mason jar of
white tea and shine provoked thoughts of fire. The
diseased flesh of house and horror should be burnt in unison .
But Elias fell asleep with his dreams of destruction, at the
workbench inside the barn, once his family’s ancestral longhouse.
The next day, he found
his car parked at a severe angle, and the screen door in the front of
the house slammed open and close, with the wind. And the awful
presence willed away.
* * *
Inside the empty
room, the air was clean and light. Elias walked in and looked around.
Always in a rush to exit Angeni’s presence, the furnishings seemed
foreign to him. The bed tucked into the corner, and a small writing
desk sat against the far wall. I
don’t remember this being here. Elias sat down at the
desk for the first time and stared at the wall. Running his hands
across the edges of the old teak desk, he noticed hinges behind the
top surface. Without hesitating he opened it, examining the contents
of the inner compartment. Inside lay a large skeleton key, once
polished brass, but now drab metallic. The key’s handle, an
ornament of an eye surrounded by an Ouroboros—a snake eating its
own tail. In his hands it felt at least two or three pounds. He set
it aside and found two leather bound books stacked in the far corner.
The smaller had the same symbol—Ouroboros surrounding an eye—on
the cover.
The inner contents
contained miniscule text, obscure characters unlike any written
language he had ever seen. Each symbol matched to
survival.
It
has been a long time since anybody visited. The
caseworker’s inquires didn’t leave Elias’s thoughts the past
few nights. He thought that he shouldn’t have claimed to have known
Angeni. But during the talk Elias’s emotions rushed, and he told
the caseworker an earful. Perhaps the man meant well, although their
conversation went nowhere. The attempt to convince Tony that his
great grandmother was cursed proved to be a lost cause.
Through the window,
dead timber lay stacked on the side of the barn. Elias intended to
chop it into firewood over a month ago, but drinking and lack of
sleep had cast him thin, low priority chores went undone. He went
outside, through the wind and snow, through the barn door and pulled
his wood axe off the shadow board. It had seen better days; the blade
was coming loose and the old-wooden handle had several hairline
cracks. He remembered buying a replacement after moving back to the
land. It’s in the attic.
Elias climbed up the
stairs, and stopped in front of Angeni’s room. His canine shadow
sat at the foot of the stairs with his tail between his legs. One-two-three . Not
knowing the reason why, he counted his attempts on his great
grandmother’s life. Perhaps it was guilt. His people, the Haudenosuanee , where
taught to show their elders the highest level of respect, Elias held
nothing but contempt for Angeni; the cancer that destroyed his entire
family. He had never known the claimed beauty that once was his great
grandmother, only the horror of a woman whose mind was a beacon for
the strangers that lie dormant, outside of life or death.
* * *
One— after
father died, Elias collected rotten crab apples found all around the
Kingbird land and boiled the seeds into a deadly concentration. He
put the cyanide in great grandmother’s water, enough to kill a
bear. She vomited through her shattered mouth shortly after ingesting
it. But she awoke—all the same—the next morning.
Two— when
Meni had taken her own life, Elias unlatched the belt from Meni’s
neck and laid her corpse on the bed. He took the belt in hand into
Angeni’s room across the hallway. When he wrapped the belt around
her neck, a burning orange light flashed in his eyes, and he lost
consciousness, awaking four hours later in the barn with a splitting
headache. Something protected her wretched existence, but Elias had
no idea what it could be.
Three— a
year later, the Kingbird estate was haunted lonely. A mason jar of
white tea and shine provoked thoughts of fire. The
diseased flesh of house and horror should be burnt in unison .
But Elias fell asleep with his dreams of destruction, at the
workbench inside the barn, once his family’s ancestral longhouse.
The next day, he found
his car parked at a severe angle, and the screen door in the front of
the house slammed open and close, with the wind. And the awful
presence willed away.
* * *
Inside the empty
room, the air was clean and light. Elias walked in and looked around.
Always in a rush to exit Angeni’s presence, the furnishings seemed
foreign to him. The bed tucked into the corner, and a small writing
desk sat against the far wall. I
don’t remember this being here. Elias sat down at the
desk for the first time and stared at the wall. Running his hands
across the edges of the old teak desk, he noticed hinges behind the
top surface. Without hesitating he opened it, examining the contents
of the inner compartment. Inside lay a large skeleton key, once
polished brass, but now drab metallic. The key’s handle, an
ornament of an eye surrounded by an Ouroboros—a snake eating its
own tail. In his hands it felt at least two or three pounds. He set
it aside and found two leather bound books stacked in the far corner.
The smaller had the same symbol—Ouroboros surrounding an eye—on
the cover.
The inner contents
contained miniscule text, obscure characters unlike any written
language he had ever seen. Each symbol matched to
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