Among Us They Come - C.E. Vance (desktop ebook reader TXT) 📗

house I've come as the guidance, to your seeking. That is my sustenance upon this eve."

 

Uncertain as to the underlying meaning of the reverend's words, although not unfamiliar with analogies used by soul redeemers, without interrupting, Arthur listened intently to the overly scored diction, with respect due to a man of the cloth, especially this man, whose faith had carried him through the perils presented upon such a formidable night.

 

As the speaker continued, his eyes suddenly glared studiously toward Arthur, and his words sent a chill down the old man's spine.

 

"Blessed is this house", he said, "and all who now endure within the confines of its walls. Concern yourself not for your ailing wife; she resides in loving hands upon this eve. Go to her, Arthur, for she has truly awakened, and offers assurances that all is well. Willingly, she embraces the peacefulness, which she is witness to. Hear her words, and allow your own peaceful rest".

 

Finishing his words, the Reverend stood motionless, and from the bedroom, Jenny called Arthur's name.

 

Tears streamed down Arthur's face as he stepped past the threshold, leading into the bedroom, and by the light of a twinkling oil lamp sat Jenny in front of the dresser's mirror, brushing her long raven colored hair. No longer bearing signs of aging, her beauty was the same as the day they had met, with skin soft and supple. Jenny was once again, the young blossomed girl he had married so many years ago.

 

"Come to me Arthur", she said, and cradled him to her, as he wept.

 

"How can this be, Jenny?" He asked.

 

Looking away, and toward the bed, she pointed to the figure lying beneath the hand stitched quilt, gone unnoticed by Arthur when he entered the room.

 

A witness to the obvious, his glance fell away from the bed, unable to look at the unmoving outline which no longer heaved with the rasping of breath. Arthur now knew his beautiful Jenny was dead, yet he felt no apprehension or fear in the wake of what should have been mind numbing to the senses, because the specter before him presented an aura of reassurance, along with a tightening of the warm tender embrace.

 

"It's time for us to go, Arthur", she said. "You are no longer bound to the earth, for I am with you now, and will be forever".

 

"Go, go where my love", he asked? Not understanding, he pulled away slightly from the embrace to look at her with an air of ponder, but in return she smiled as only his Jenny could smile.

 

"Please tell me what you mean? Go where, my love?" He asked again.

 

"My dearest Arthur, unknown to all, while you tended me in sickness, you lay in a shallow within the snow covered field. Given to age, your heart could endure no more. Your passing came before mine. From death you walked, and in spirit came back to me, and here you still are, my dear sweet Arthur. I love you the same as you've proven you love me. Be at peace now, and fret no more, for once again", Jenny said, "I'm with you".

 

Into the mirror he glanced, and Arthur saw a young couple held in each other's arms.

 

Throughout the house the eyes of ancestors watched, and for a moment their eyes seemed to twinkle.

 

"Come children", the Reverend Shepherd said. "Come unto the flock. Upon the four winds I came, and on them we'll make our journey home." With that, the shutters ceased their banging with their departure.

 

C.E.Vance 

 

The End

 

Pauper's Grave

Through the woods and down the hollow, with the sun approaching evening's edge, Zachary, being surrounded by the disquiet of looming darkness hurriedly makes his way along the shortcut from town toward the cabin, hoping to settle in before the formation of twilight's roving shadows stretch across the forest, consuming all with their endless reach before leading into the complete onset of night.

 

"I was a fool for not paying more attention to the time," Zachary thought to himself as he stepped out of the woods and onto the dirt roadway at the bottom of the hill.

 

"I need to hurry, it'll be dark soon."

 

Adjusting the feedsack full of bartered staples slung across his shoulder, he precedes with an almost feverish pace, wishing he hadn't lingered in town at the general store, listening to heart pounding tales related by the town's loafers, who have nothing better to do than sit around all day spinning yarns.

 

Silently he cursed his own foolishness for allowing his idleness to betray him. Here he was, several miles from home, trudging against the fall of impending darkness, and he had no one to blame but himself.    

 

Zachary's heart started to pound as he recalled the details from some of the unnerving accounts related by the storytellers; details about bedeviling spirits following along the road, whispering in hissing voices, calling the traveler's name, and specters rising up from the ground as white foggy mists with scowling eyes of pitch, sinisterly reaching out to brush a person with their icy fingers while rushing forward with their hideous blackened mouths gaped open as if trying to scream.

 

Some stories centered on the unbeknownst traveler or foolhardy naysayer that literally ran for their life while being chased by horrors that lunged forth from their hiding place along the road. Some even died in their tracks from the fright thrust upon them by the abominations. Others completely disappeared after beginning their journey along the road at night.

 

Giving effort to push the frightful thoughts to the back of his mind, chills coursed through Zachary's body, not unlike the described touch from those said to haunt and torment the person daring to trek through the darkness alone.

 

Realizing the similarities of the coldness gripping him, like the touch of a menacing specter, he quickly peered around as if trying to stay any haunt's approach.

 

"Get a grip", he mumbled to himself. "I'm letting my imagination get the best of me. I need to quit this nonsense".

 

With succeeding thoughts, "all are just farfetched stories created to make light of fretful women, and scare misbehaved children". Every town has its share of haunted houses, hollows and cemeteries that amount to nothing anymore than silly, unsubstantiated ghost stories. Only a fool would believe such buffoonery", he tried to assure himself.

 

Looking toward the horizon, the sun was setting over the rise, and shadows beneath the trees were steadily growing darker with each passing moment. All were now beginning to resemble strange creatures, huddling close to the ground, intent on watching him with secretive eyes.

 

Consciously, he stilled his urge to shudder.

 

Continuing on his way, his pace increased with every step, and fear ensued with every breath.

 

Zachary had recently moved to the area, settling into old man Pritchard's place, as referenced by local town's people. For years the cabin set vacant. No one had occupied it since the old man passed away.  It wasn't much to look at on the outside, appearing as no more than a makeshift building built of hewn logs and rough cut lumber scavenged from the scrap pile. On the inside, it only consisted of three small rooms, but in reality, it was all he needed; a place where he could lay his head down at night with a roof over his head.

 

Journeying through the area about three weeks ago he happened upon the aging homestead, and without much ado made arrangements to purchase it from Pritchard's son, Johnston Pritchard.

 

Johnston, the proprietor of the town's general store seemed more than eager to transfer the property to a new owner. To him, it was just an out of the way useless plot of ground that required a payment of yearly taxes. He regarded it without any sentimental attachments to his father whatsoever; being that his father only built and used the place as an occasional getaway, because he enjoyed the solitude that it provided.

 

The purchase consisted of a handshake, and Zachary agreeing to work off the selling price by plowing grounds, cutting firewood, and doing a number of other jobs that Johnston occasionally needed a hired man for.

 

It wasn't long after moving into the cabin that Zachary began hearing tales about ghostly apparitions supposedly haunting the roadway, while also becoming aware that a pauper's cemetery lay just a short distance up ahead in a small desolate clearing.

 

Some suggested that the spirits were haunting the area because they were angry, and seeking revenge for their namesakes being buried and forgotten in unmarked graves without so much as a hymn or prayer to send them on their way. This evening though, the rumors had turned into complete stories of horror that befell people, not unlike himself, who dared to venture the road after dark. Not knowing whether the tales were true or not, they were still frightful enough to make anyone cringe, especially now as the last hint of the sun dropped below the horizon.

 

Overhead, a waning moon and a pattern of stars began to glimmer in the darkness as he continued on his way toward home.

 

The sounds of the night echoed through the hollow. Frogs singing amid the chirps of a million crickets lent an eerie feel to the air with their high pitched drone. Joining the chatter was the flow of water in the roadside creek, rippling and sloshing, mimicking noises similar to approaching footsteps, and low uttered voices in a secretive conversation.

 

As the darkness continued to close in around him, Zachary realized he was afraid, and the cabin was still about a mile up the road, and between him and it was the pauper's cemetery.       

 

Plaguing uneasiness was overtaking him. The urge to toss away the feedsack full of bartered foodstuff and run was overwhelming, but he knew that would be a foolish mistake. Running headlong into the night he would surely trip in one of the many ruts in the roadway, causing him to stumble and fall, perhaps breaking an arm or a leg.

 

"It's best to try and stay calm while cautiously navigating the way home", Zachary thought.

 

"Soon I'll be home, make myself some supper, and have a good night's rest, and in the morning I'll have a good laugh about all this tomfoolery."

 

Still! Even with his own self-assurance, the fear enveloped him, rising into his chest, causing him to momentarily gasp for air.

 

Taking care, Zachary eased his way through the darkness, listening intently for a rustle or breaking of twigs, indicating something might be stalking him. His eyes darted back and forth, pausing to glare into the stillness of night, trying to discern any movement in his forward path and the adjacent area.

 

Continuing onward, he seemed to be laboring somewhat to catch his breath, and small waves of weakness were causing him to become unsteady on his feet. Even the surge of fear that had whelmed to his chest earlier was becoming a nagging discomfort. His heart was pounding like it was ready to explode. He assumed his nerves were taking their toll.

 

Nearing just up ahead was the pauper's cemetery. The place he dreaded passing. Stories he had heard in town were now resurfacing, and revisiting each of their ghoulish details, making his mind race with fear. The thoughts