“Even the sheriff was too afraid, Tommy, and no one would join his posse if he’d tried. Now be patient!
“In those days there were witches in the bayous here about. Some were bad, but most just wanted to be left alone. The witch in our story was named Spinner because of the magical dreams her potions would spin. They said she spun those spells just like a spider spins its web. Some dreams she made would tell the future, some would bring good luck, and some eased the passage into the next world where all dreams end.
“One moonless night, Shadow Man came to Spinner’s shack while she was out gathering herbs and took all the money she had been given for her bottles filled with dreams. It was a lot of gold, I can tell you, and when she found it gone, the sound of her anger frightened the swamp into silence for miles around. I’m told even the ’gators hid in their dens at the sound of her curses.”
“Wow! Nothing scares a ’gator, ’cept a bigger ’gator! Then what happened?”
Grandma Buford laughed, enjoying how her grandson was hanging on every word. She couldn’t stay angry at him, no matter how much he interrupted.
“I was getting to that, now hush!” she said, feigning sternness. “Spinner must have gone on caterwauling for half the night before she finally hushed up. They say the silence was scarier than the sound of her screams. For three days and nights she read her books of dark magic and summoned demons to guide her as she plotted her revenge on Shadow Man, for she knew that only he would dare to steal her gold.”
Tommy was now at her feet, his back to the fire as he stared up at Grandma Buford, imagining a witch far off in the bayous talking to horned demons with yellow teeth and sulfurous breath. The dancing shadows in the parlor seemed to grow horns of their own and he started when a log in the fire suddenly popped. He thought of a fire much hotter far below where demons lived and wasn’t sure he wanted Grandma to go on. But he swallowed and stayed silent, afraid to break her spell.
“When those three days had passed,” Grandma said, leaning forward and speaking in a low voice, “the smoke was still thick over her shack as Spinner brewed a black liquid in her large and glowing kettle. When she was finished, she went to Old Man Buford, and after a long private conversation, she returned to her little house in the swamp, driving the Buford family carriage with its two matched mares. Meanwhile, Old Man Buford paid for some of his servants to go to the local taverns and tell stories about a love affair between his son and a mysterious young lady who lived near the bayou.
“Shadow Man laughed as he spent Spinner’s gold on gambling and other things that robbers like, but which you are too young to understand, and though he had stolen a lot of gold, he soon found he was poor again. Then Shadow Man heard rumors that Old Man Buford’s son, your great-grandfather, had a lady friend he visited once a month in a cottage at the edge of the swamp. The stories said he would ride to her on the first night the moon was full, which was in fact that very night. Shadow Man smiled as he sharpened his sword, cleaned his pistol, and blackened his face to make himself ready. Then he muffled the hooves of his horse so that he could move without making a noise and rode out to wait in the dark, along the trail to the secret cottage the Buford servants had talked about.
“Around midnight the Buford carriage came down the trail just as he’d expected, and when the highwayman blocked the road, it stopped, the coachman throwing up his hands when Shadow Man shouted out, “Stand and deliver!” as he always did. He threw open the door of the carriage, expecting to see a frightened rich man inside, but found Spinner instead, smiling at him. ‘Give me back my gold and live,’ she said, ‘or you will never see the sun again.’
“Shadow Man laughed at her, ‘I don’t see the sun now, you old hag, and soon neither will you!’
“With that he ran his sword through her, but instead of blood, he found straw, for the witch had turned into a scarecrow right before his eyes! He looked up to the coachman and saw her in the driver’s seat just before she dashed a black potion into his eyes.”
“What happened then, Grandma? Did Shadow Man die?”
“No one knows, Tommy. But the next day Spinner returned here to the Buford Mansion driving the carriage and carrying a small birdcage covered in black cloth. When she met with Old Man Buford he refused to give her the reward for the highwayman, saying he didn’t want anything to do with black magic. In a fury, Spinner cursed him and his descendants with sleepless nights. Then she opened the cage, threw it in the wine cellar and stomped out of the mansion.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, Old Man Buford had change of heart the next morning about cheating a witch, so later he sent men with the reward to her shack. But her house was gone.”
“Where was it?”
“Don’t know. It was as though the swamp ate her, the house and maybe even Shadow Man up.”
“That’s a great story, Grandma! It’s much better than Hansel and Gretel. But what’s a descendent?”
Grandma Buford sighed. “It means those who come after. Since Old Man Buford was your great-great-grandfather, that means you.”
“I love the story. Will you tell it to me again tomorrow night?”
“Perhaps, but now it’s time for bed, Tommy. Don’t worry Big Boy, I’ll tuck you in.”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide. “I’m scared to go to bed.”
“Why is that, dear?”
Tommy looked down at the floor, doing his best to act like a big boy. “Because I have a monster under my bed.” He swallowed. “He scares me!”
Grandma smiled, showing the half-dozen or so teeth she had left. “I think I have an answer for that. For every poison, there’s an antidote. For every curse, there’s a cure. Trust me.”
The procession to bed went as smoothly as it ever did, and finally, after a drink of water, a trip to the bathroom, and a goodnight kiss, Tommy was in bed. Before blowing out his candle, Grandma Buford vanished and then quickly returned with a birdcage covered in faded black cloth. She placed it on the floor beside his bed and opened the cage door. “This will keep you safe.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“It catches monsters.” She kissed him one more time and left.
Tommy began to doze off, when suddenly he sat bolt upright. Was it his imagination, or did he hear scuffling beneath the bed?
He took a deep breath and looked over the edge and down into the darkness. A small, dark claw extended from beneath the bed, and Tommy’s heart hammered as two glowing eyes blinked back at him. Then the eyes turned towards the cage and narrowed. There was a sharp squeak, and the claw and eyes withdrew with a quick scrabbling sound that quickly faded away, never to return.
Perhaps Shadow Man recognized the cage designed by a witch’s spell to imprison him and was frightened away. Or perhaps another kind of spell, cast by a loving grandmother’s story, banished the monster in Tommy’s mind.
I’ll leave it to you to decide, but from then on Tommy slept peacefully through the night, undisturbed.
COUNTRY SONG GONE WRONG, by Sherry Harris
Guest Author
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For the first time since Sarah Winston had started her garage sale business she was stuck doing a sale she didn’t want to do. “Are you sure you want to sell all of this?” Sarah asked her client. She stood in an enormous family room.
“You bet your cotton pickin’ heart I do,” June Baby Pickens replied.
Sarah looked over at her friend, Carol Carson. They’d known June since before she was June Baby Pickens, the famous country western song writer married to Roydon Pickens, the famous country singer. The couple lived in a mansion in Virginia horse country with rolling hills and the Shenandoah Valley as a backdrop.
“Even Roydon’s platinum record award?” Carol asked.
“Yes. You can’t run off with the nanny and disappear without expecting to be humiliated in return. Mark it one dollar.”
Roydon had taken off almost a week ago. June had found a note saying he’d fallen for the nanny. That he was sorry—as if that would fix things.
“Where are the kids?” Sarah asked.
“I sent them to my mom’s house in Monterey.” Monterey is where they’d all met nineteen years ago. June had sung in a little bayside bar. Her voice had been good enough for that, but not good enough for Nashville. Roydon, who was twenty years older, had been there on vacation. They’d fallen for each other and soon June was living in Virginia writing hits for Roydon like “Take My Heart, Leave the Dog” and “I Didn’t Know Stupid Until I Married You.”
June swiped at her eyes. Sarah worried about the dark circles. She’d gotten used to seeing June on TV with big hair, dripping in makeup and diamonds, Roydon at her side. June had asked Sarah to run a garage sale for her to get rid of what Roydon had left behind. Which, looking around the house, was almost everything. Very odd. Sarah had brought Carol along to help with the sale and keep June company.
“He made me a cliché. I hate him.” June gave up swiping at the tears. “I don’t hate him. I still love him. More than a damn viper loves its poison.” She paused, screwed her face into a thoughtful look. “Maybe I should write that song. Listen to me. Everything sounds like a song to me.”