On the Edge of Twilight: 22 Tales to Follow You Home by Gregory Miller Page A

until Uncanny Hill reared up, and then Chris ran up ahead to the clearing, he had us wait, and came back and said, all breathless, “She’s there, OK.”
    And I said, “Who’s that?”
    And he said, “You’ll see,” and nudged his pals.
    We went on up the hill together until it broke clear from the woods and there was wheat all over on the top, and there was an old woman sittin on a rotten stump. She was all wrapped up in a shabby black-knit shawl and had on black stockings, and a black bonnet, a natty old black dress, and a tattered, dirty pair of black old wooden clogs. It was like she was in mournin or something, dressed up so. White hair streamed out from neath her shawl in long, thin strands. Her face, oh, it was like lookin at one of them maps with mountains on it, the kind that stick up a little. And her eyes, I remember when we got close thinkin how they musta once been green, but now was all faded, kinda olive-colored, and red round the edges.
    “Well, Chris, that’s Miss Riley!” I shouted.
    All the other fellas laughed long and loud at that, but I can’t say as I knew why, cept we wasn’t supposed to say a word to her cause she was ‘touched,’ like they put it, and she had always kinda skeered me. She liked to clump around town now and again, but specially out in the woods and through the fields, and she muttered and laughed and smiled like there was somethin real sad and unspeakable behind those four black teeth of hers.
    “You ain’t frightened, now, are you Jeff?” Chris asked, nudging Dale.
    “No, no, I ain’t a bit.”
    “That’s a good whelp. Now you follow close and watch real good.”
    So they moseyed on down to Miss Riley, me followin behind, and Miss Riley came clumpin up the hill aways to meet em, and Jim, he said, “How’s it goin, Miss Riley?” And Miss Riley, she stopped and smiled that smile, then laughed, and it sounded like a squalling baby. And she said, “I’ll show you a thing or two!” then turned and walked on down the hill agin to her dead ol stump and took a seat.
    “Here now, whose turn is it?” Jim asked.
    “I thought we said it was mine,” Chris said.
    “No, I don’t remember that,” Dale said.
    “Three’s better’n one!” Miss Riley piped up, and I thought to myself, What’s she runnin her gums about? And then I found out.
    “You say so,” Chris said, and set his .30 caliber against her chest, just as Jim and Dale did the same.
    And then I’ll be damned if they didn’t lift up the safeties, pull the triggers, and the world went up in smoke and thunder.
    What I felt, it’s kinda hard to put in words. All time, it seemed to hang on edge, and I let out a whoop! and a cry and fell on my knees as Miss Riley, she blowed backwards, knocked straight outta her shoes, and a fine red mist sprayed the ground, my brother, his buds, my face. Then Miss Riley just lay all still, her chest pretty well gone to glory, and her bones and innards all on view, and I closed my eyes and pinched my arm and tried to wake myself up, but acourse I couldn’t cause I was waked already.
    That then is what happened to begin with, and it’s bad enough. But with my eyes still clamped shut so tight I saw stars, I next heard a rustling and a whispering and a grunt from one of the boys, and then high above it all, shrill and clear as winter water, Miss Riley’s laughter.
    I opened my eyes real slow, cause I didn’t want to see no more, but there’s no way I could keep em shut after hearing that . And what did I see but Miss Riley standing there in the knee-high wheat, puttin her shoes back on, balancin from one leg to another. Her hair, it was all wild cause her bonnet was knocked clean off by the blast, and her face was covered in blood, but she was alive, though I could still see her innards, and they was waving as she moved.
    There’s no point lyin, I passed out cold on the ground at that, and when I came to Chris was lookin down at me and shakin his head.
    “Sorry bout