Page 17 of A Curse On Black Lake
She knows the truth now, Eliana. She learned what you must do. You must find him. You will save this land.The Spirits say.
I groan to myself and look up again. The little girl is gone. But there’s a man standing at a grave up on the hill. The outline is tall, large and his head is outlined with a cowboy hat. I stare at him wide-eyed.Just like my dream.
He doesn’t seem to notice me, so I stay still. Staring at him, not sure if he’s real or a ghost. He kneels down in front of two stone caskets and pulls his hat off before bowing his head.
The Spirits are in a frenzy, and I can’t make out what they’re saying, so my eyes remain on the possible ghost as he… prays. I don’t see ghosts often, but I’ve never seen them pray.
Eventually, he gets to his feet, sets his hat on his head and turns from the grave. He’s too far away to make out distinct features, but he catches me, and I freeze. He stares at me for a moment and then walks away back down the hill, disappearing from sight.
Chapter eight
Eliana
Thesunsearsmyclosed eyes, and I groan, turning on my side. It’s been two weeks since she passed. All I want to do is stay in bed, but there are animals relying on me to feed them.
Rolling out of bed, I get dressed and get the coffee going. The house is so quiet. No scooting footsteps, or whispered curses from dropping something. No singing. Only silence, as if I’m living in my own grave.
Tears spring from my eyes, and I take a deep gulp of my piping hot coffee and get to work. I’ve been doing this by myself for a while now, since Grams couldn’t. But today and the week before it feels like it’s getting harder.
I’ve had the apothecary closed since Grams died. I can’t go in there, even though I have to. I’m the medicine woman in town now. But the irony is, I don’t think anyone will come asking me for help. Grams taught me all she knows, and I’ve been studying and learning from her my entire life. I’m confident I can meet the need, but I’ll never be able to fill the shoes.
Because I used to do it every morning for Grams, I ran out to the mailbox to get the newspaper. She loves —loved— doingthe crosswords and riddles they put in them. The Black Lake Sentinel is one of the only forms of news we get that includes the outside world. With only a few TV channels, Grams and I don’t bother.
Today the front title reads,Another Body Found at Black Lake.I stare at it for a minute. It’s not a new headline. It’s actually probably one of the more common headlines. I never read the thing, but maybe I should.
I inhale a shaky breath, going straight for the garbage can on the side of the house to toss it. I’ll never read the paper again.
After I’m done with the animals, I force myself into the apothecary and work on the herbs that have been drying for a couple weeks. I strip them first, sift them, and organize them for their various uses. Some of it will make tea, tinctures or glycerites, and the rest will go into lotion or soaps. My stomach churns and my heart hurts, but I concentrate on what’s in front of me.
Since Grams was laid to rest, my grasp on the line between reality and a separate plane is getting hard to see. The edges are blurring. But there is no one who can help me stay here, but maybe I don’t want to be here anymore.
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted, and food tastes like ash, but I force myself to eat. Otherwise, I’ll feel worse in the morning.
You have not listened. You have not listened. You need to listen!The Spirits yell.
I groan and ignore them as my head hits the pillow and my eyes shut, too tired to discern what they’re saying. The only place I find peace, the calm, is in sleep, but even then, sometimes it’s not good enough. Hopefully, tonight will be.
Wake up!
Wake!
Wake!
Wake!
My eyes spring open, and my heart races in my chest. I look around, expecting to see a threat, but nothing is there.
He is here. He is here.The Spirits tell me.
“Who?” I whisper.
They don’t respond.
My stomach lurches, and I reach for the shotgun behind my bedroom door. I might not have good aim, but I don’t have to with this. I can only hope that it’s not something that goes bump in the night because a shotgun will do nothing to stop it.
I step into the hall, don’t see anything, and quietly make it to the living room and kitchen.Nothing.Lowering the barrel, I reach for a glass of water and fill it. As I lift it to my lips, that’s when I see him.
The glass falls from my hand and shatters at my feet. The hooded figure is in the back of my garden, standing there. I could go out there and shoot him, though it might not be human, but something else entirely.
