Sara Sleeps
(Introduction Short Story to : “Ain’t No Sense in Gathering Spanish Moss”)
By B. Huckabee
Smashwords Edition.
Copyright 2012 by B. Huckabee
Smashwords, Edition, License Notes
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First Up. . ..Always ASK “Who is it” BEFORE answering the door.
NEXT UP....What happens When Sara Sleeps...
Next Up. . . What happens when Nita tries to Pay Up
Next up . . . . . Nita paid up. Mickey slips up. Sebast falls. . .
Children’s Books by B. Huckabee
Upcoming books in the children’s series:
Mrs. Liz Wadkins – without you I would have never tried!
Bonita Moreau – My sister, whom without I would have not had the courage to begin writing way back in college.
My Mother – Rest in Peace, Momma, the one who gave me my pseudonym. I can finally go out in the dark, but not without a flashlight and lots of wonder.
My very own Magic Man – You are a wonderful man and I want to say thank you for the magic you bring into my life everyday.
I have created their world for you to enjoy and so in keeping with that I have chosen to write in a style that does use proper grammar. I have written this book in a typical southern speak fashion, that is to say the grammar isn’t what we would have normally used in school or when writing a formal paper. This is done intentionally. While the mix is between proper and improper grammar it is for the feel of the story and for the characters to communicate the way they would if you were speaking to them face to face.
First Up. . ..Always ASK “Who is it” BEFORE answering the door.
I never understood why my mother tried to scare the bejesus out of us kids. She would never tell us much either. She did finally when we got older but that didn’t make it any better or make much sense for that matter either. She said it was for our own good aka to protect us. When we asked from what she didn’t have much of an answer either. She just said no one ever knew what was out there. Well, she should have taught us “what was out there” because “what was out there” has come to roost right here in our house.” Nita and I can’t stand it and want it gone. She wants me to take care of it as usual. I am feeling stubborn as usual and don’t want to. Nita thinks I’m being a big baby as usual but I mean really. I feel like I didn’t have anything to do with the problem in the first damned place so why should I have to fix it because Nita is just too damned lazy, or uncomfortable, or unwilling or something. Nita’s reason is, “Well, you never know what will happen when you do things to get rid of things like that. Mother always warned us about stuff like that that was out there.” Yeah, she did. Too bad she never told us how to get rid of “what was out there.” So that is what this is all about. How to get rid of “it” and what really happens when you let things go too long. Welcome to my world and enjoy your stay, you might want to buckle though, it’s a bumpy ride from here on out!!
“It was a dark and stormy night with lighting and thunder roaring in and rattling the windows threatening to break through our thin glass panes. Not really but I have always wanted to start a story that way. And apparently I won’t be writing at all if this editor has his way, and of course, it’s a man. I want to write about something but the words just aren’t flowing on the page. Maybe I should think about writing in blood. After all bleeding seems to be the operative word when writing. We give our life blood to our work only to have it handed back by editors who can’t “understand where the story is takin’ them”. Such crap.” I jabbered on the phone to Mickey. I was driving back from town and knew I had a lot of work left to do before everyone arrived. I had just finished the grocery list and passed by Magic Man’s shop. Now, he is one delicious grocery item I wouldn’t have minded picking up but it was supposed to be just the girls so I kept driving.
Nita can’t stand cleaning so it was left to me clean up the kitchen, living room and bathroom along with decorating, running errands to the stores and making all the calls for a party to cheer up Mickey. Yeah, Nita can’t stand the phone neither. Nita is older than me by just about five years. She can’t stand a lot things. As far as living goes we have been together in the same house for almost nine years. We came to live here with own parents because they just couldn’t get along on their own financially anymore and neither one of us really wanted to get married. With both parents long gone, thanks to an accident, we have inherited the land, the house and the problems. We are not old maids or man haters, we have decided that we don’t need men, and are, in fact, just picky as hell!
The party is for our friend Mickey. She’s a hoot! She tries to tell Nita to get rid of “it” too, but Nita won’t listen to Mickey either. Mickey tells me to just let “it” be. Honestly “it” is getting to be a pain in the ass. Most of the time “what is out there” is simply “out there” and we can go about their day but today “it” bothers the us, needling at my brain like a forgotten errand that you know is important and if you don’t remember it will present itself at the most inconvenient time possible. Mickey has been upset because her boyfriend Tom is just a prick ass who can’t keep his dick in pants. She knows it, hell we all know it, and tonight we are going to help her forget about him for a few hours anyway.
Mickey, Nita and I have known each other all of their lives and believe that to be for many lives both past and present. Now, wait a minute, not everybody thinks we get only life. Momma once confided that it would be a fool that thought we learned ever’thing the first time ‘round and the aforementioned ladies tend to agree with her. Only an idiot would dare disagree with the sister’s momma, Miss Annie.
“Sara! Sara! Mickey is here and it is time for the party to get going.” Nita shouts from the patio.
“Are you serious? We got another two hours ‘fore ever’one gets here and we gotta wait on Poola to get up here from Mobile. She’s always late. And yes, I know she’s on the phone. Hello?” I start walking out to the patio waving the phone in my hand.
“Hey Girl! What are you up to anyway?” Mickey smiles at me and simultaneously hanging up her cell phone. She sits down in the bamboo swing which we hung up last week. “I just love this thing I can’t believe we didn’t think of this sooner. We need to get a table out here and do some readings for folks.”
“Well, yeah! But first we’d have to give the mosquitoes a damned eviction notice and I don’t think they’d take too kindly to that or they wouldn’t care either one.” Sara laughs.
“Well, ain’t that the God’s honest truth. Hey, Nita! What the hell you doin’ in there anyway, writin’ a golden invitation?”
“No, Poola just called. She ain’t comin’ after all, guess it’s just us.” Nita sounded disappointed. She always felt left out when it was Mickey and her and Sara. If she would just get up and be a little livelier it would help but she won’t. She acts so damned depressed and negative all the time. Momma tried to get her to listen but oh no, that would have been too easy. Anyway, off the soapbox and on with the story.
“Well, we always have whatever’s out there.” Mickey cackled.
“This is true.” Our little group fell silent and sipped on some mint and ginger tea. Now that Poola wasn’t comin’ we didn’t really know what we were gonna do but we were gonna do somethin’. We always did.
“Hey, I got an idea. Wanna go stir up some trouble over at creek? That’s always a hoppin’ place after dark. The water runs cold and the candles float backwards thanks to Sara. Someone always shows up to make it interestin’.” Mickey had a twinkle in her eye which meant the game was afoot.
“No, I really don’t . . . “Nita started her sentence.
“Feel like it.” I finished. “The trouble is you never “feel like it”. You are always wanting' someone else to do your magic for you. Haven’t you understood yet, to get it you have to sacrifice for it? Not someone else? I make the sacrifice so I get the reward. Mickey makes the sacrifice so she gets the reward. You piddle around and let things go complaining away and waiting and making excuses for why you don’t have the time and now you do. Let’s go. Take a chance for once.”
“Sara, Quit! I’m not going to. Just go without me. Like you always do.” Nita stormed back in the house.
There was rustling out in the trees. The shadows suddenly seemed longer and darker than they were ten minutes ago. Things didn’t seem so friendly and the air seemed suddenly thicker and heavier. When we looked out in the thickest part of paths leading away from the house to the creek you could see something was out there. It was just creepy and gave us the chills. Maybe Momma was right, maybe somethin’ really was out there. I hated that damned thing. It was always just beyond where we could see, where we could go, where we could feel or touch, it was always just beyond.
“I think we should inside.” Mickey opened the screen door.
“Yeah, the mosquitoes are getting bad.” I offered.
“Yeah, they are.” We moved inside and Nita had turned on the television to some paranormal show.
“Leaving?” Nita snapped?
“No. Got a little too dark, ya know what I mean?” I sat down in the rocker beside the fireplace and in spite of the warm air wanted to start a fire just to get rid of that cold feeling that whatever it was always left me with.
“Oh. Yeah, I do. Wood is outside though. So’s the kindlin’. I’ll go this time.” Mickey offered.
“Careful. I got the door. You don’t know what’s out there.” Nita stood watch at the door.
“Yeah, gotcha. Sara, why don’t you get the candles going and we can start the party. Cheer up the place and we can have a few laughs inside by the fire, talk about all the stupid shit going on.” Mickey didn’t look nervous but she sounded a bit out of sorts. It just wasn’t easy to go out there with that thing sitting on the edge of the tree line. As long as the lights were on it seemed to stay put. One flame was all anyone needed. Fall outside the flame and well, you don’t want to know. Outside the flame was darkness and darkness meant whatever was out there could get to you and you never knew what could happen. Most of the time you never did know what happened when someone did go outside the flame. We sound medieval I know, but it is true.
“Tomorrow we gather the Spanish moss. It’ll do us some good. Calms the nerves, spreads happiness but I thinks that just because we have always done that together and we have such a good time. Hurry up Mickey!” I shout. There’s no answer and the wood isn’t far outside.
“Where is she?” Nita whispers.
“Well, I would think by the woodpile.” I smirk.
“Well, no shit. Go find her.” Nita hisses.
“Oh sure. Why not?” I hiss back. Always me, I think. Nita is such a chicken. I swear if her own ass was lost I would have to go find it! “Mickey! Mickey! Where the hell are you woman?”
“Hush! I’m over here. I couldn’t answer you before because that thing was out prowlin’ and I got caught in the shadows under the carport with an armload of wood. Where is your sister?”
“She’s inside by the door. We can make a run for it. She’s waiting.” At least that’s what I hope anyway. We have got to do something about that thing out there. It is gettin’ bolder and more aggressive ever’ damned night I swear by the light of the moon it’s gonna come on up to the porch one night when we ain’t lookin’!
“Ready?” Mickey whispers.
“No?” I smile.
“Me neither, but let’s go.” Mickey and I haul ass towards the screen door and almost knock ourselves out cold because you have to pull the door open not push it and there just happens to be a very large brick wall holdin’ up the side of the house we run into.
“Get in here!” Nita opens the door wide enough for us with the wood and kindlin’ we both managed not to drop. Sittin’ by the fireplace are our three chairs with some angel food cake, milk and honey with lemon and a dash of powdered sugar with cinnamon to attract angels. I start the fire while Mickey grabs the kettle and fills it with water and Nita grabs the ginger and mint to make us some more tea.
“Okay, we eat and then get to gabbin’ and gossipin’ afore we get some serious shit brewin’, right girls?” Mickey arranges us all cozied up because that thing made us feel the chill of winter in our bones.
“You suppose that’s the devil out there?” I ask.
“Now, why in the hell would you think that?” Nita asks.
“Well, it only makes sense. It’s dark. It’s cold as ice and burns like fire if you’re too close. Scares the bejesus out of you and runs like a bat outta hell if you even think about the good Lord.” I ponder the question even if she isn’t.
“How do you know it burns?” Nita is staring at me. I don’t like it at all. She has that look that says, “What have you done now?”, which makes me feel guilty of something I may or may not have done. She should have been a freakin’ lawyer, could’ve made an innocent man plead guilty to murderin’ his wife with her sittin’ right there beside him as alive as the day is long.
“Momma said so.” I don’t look at her. Truth is it touched me once when I was little. I was so curious I crawled out my winda one night with no light, no candle and well, it was just a stupid little kid mistake. I have the mark on right leg to prove it. Momma told ever’one it was a burn mark from where I got scalded with hot grease while trying to cook my own eggs. Momma was the one who rescued me that night.
I had just touched the ground. It was very cold that night and I couldn’t understand why because it was in July. I wasn’t much taller than a cattail and more curious than a mouse starin’ down trap with a chunk of cheese. I thought I was smart enough to avoid whatever was outside because I just thought Momma was trying to scare us into staying inside and she and ever’one else were outside havin’ themselves a good ol’ time. I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried and believe I tried many times! Anyway, I was walking through the grass when I looked at the trees and they looked all funny like they was movin’ and shimmerin’. I thought it was pretty and wanted to get a closer look. I could hear somethin’ up in the treetops and I thought it might have been nightingales singin’ to me so I went runnin’ towards the sound. I couldn’t hear my Momma screamin’ for me to stop. She was frantic and screamin’ for my Daddy to turn on a light. Problem was Daddy had already left for work, so Momma had to run back towards the house while my stupid little self plunged headlong into the trees and into that darkness.
Momma searched for a light and finally found a flashlight I guess. I don’t remember much of what happened, only the story Momma told one of her friends later. She never really said what kind of light had come over me. She just said it shone like the sun and moved through the moon like silver butter. Momma said I screamed like I had been split in two. Momma had run like her feet were made of lead and her mind seemed to make her move when she thought her body was standing stark still. She said all she remembers herself is standing on the porch crying with me in her arms and singing Sweet Low Sweet Chariot, listening to music and smelling some sweet salve on my leg. When we both woke up, we were on the porch in the morning just as my Daddy got home. Momma told him we had waited for him and must have fallen asleep. What I did not know that fateful night was that Momma happened to be outside herself checking the house. If she hadn’t well, I guess I couldn’t be lying to Nita about how I know it burns.
“Uh-huh” Nita doesn’t look at me either. She knows I’m lying. She remembers me screaming that night. She has asked me and Momma both about that night. Neither of us has spoken about that night again.
“Well, devil or not we should do somethin’ about it don’t ya think? I mean what is it doin’ out there anyway? I heard tale that sometimes things exist simply because people say they do. Like a legend of sorts, ya know?” Mickey interjects before we can argue.
“No, ain’t heard that one before.” Nita and I look at her.
“Well, I heard that sometimes a thing is said so often by so many people that it becomes real when it never was before in the first place. We tell our children to stay inside after dark because why? Well, because “you don’t know what’s out there”. But what if there’s nothing out there and we have created what’s out there because we have said it for so long and so often?” Mickey is making sense but how can three of us dispel something that is perhaps centuries old?
“Okay, say you are right. How long before a legend dies or for that matter is born? Can’t just say “Git on down the road!” and expect it to head on out now can we?” Nita asks.
“Well, I didn’t say it was gonna be easy, Miss Prissy Pants!” Mickey smiles back at her.
“I should say not. We’ll have to live a century or two!” We all start laughing. Realizing we are certainly not going to get rid of that thing anytime soon. The cake is gone and the tea is beginning to grow cold. “Let’s sleep on it and figure somethin’ else out in the morning or the next century?” I venture.
“Deal.”
Well, the night came and went much like any other night. The moon rose, the stars shone, that damned howling, creeping whatever it was sat outside waiting. It does tend to tap on the windows to see if we’ll open it. Sometimes it cries like a child left outside. It wails and moans, the cries are almost unbearable, almost. I say almost. Once the sisters had a dog that it drove to madness with those cries. She was a nuturing, kind animal. She scratched and clawed until she made a hole in the door. She wiggled her way out. It was too late when the family got to her. She was out in the yard and it got her. The sounds were so loud. Sara didn’t sleep through the night for months. She kept hearing the family pet screaming, and it was that thing imitating her, and the only thing we found was her collar. It left the family that. A grim reminder left over the door so no one will answer the crying baby, the wailing woman, the moaning beggar, and the screaming child, the ‘whatever’ anymore. God save us if anyone is really ever there. God save them.
“Coffee! Sara! Coffee! Sara, make us some coffee!” Nita shouts.
“Really?” I shout back.
“Yeah, really. You are the one with the Acadian lover boy. Oo-la-la, who taught you how to make the magic brew!” Mickey laughs at me.
“You are the one who brewed the brew that made the voodoo.” Sara rhymes back at her. She wishes she had that cock of the walk right about now anyway and wonders if he’s still missing her as much as she is missing him right now.
“Too early!” They chime back.
“Alright. I’ll make it!” Sara starts the coffee. It’s not really magical but it tastes that way. So easy to make I think to myself. I put the radio on to 93.7, which is our favorite rock station and start dancing and jumping to the music. I sing and laugh as I wash the pot and get the coffee. “Okay, eight cups of water and a big tablespoon. Open the coffee can. One spoon for two cups and a dash more for good measure, no more, no less, c’est ca! Turn it on, and now, we wait!” I say to no one in particular because no one is even in the kitchen. Yup, I know but it’s how it’s done. Dancing, brewing and singing. I think it’s the happiness and dancing that makes the coffee. Maybe just the extra dash, that little what did he call it? Lagniappe, an old word, so maybe between the lagniappe the night before and the lagniappe in the morning the magic was joy in the coffee. Good company, plenty of love and well, just plenty of whatever was needed.