Children Lost on The Darkest Of Nights:
The Legend of Peg Powler
(A Sewing Box Mystery)
Chapter 1: Friday, November 1, 1991, 1:51 am
Chapter 2: Saturday October 29, 2011, 11:37 am
Chapter 3: Sunday October 30, 2011, 10:30 am
Chapter 4, Monday, October 31, 2012, 8:01 am, Halloween
Tuesday morning was not without its drama. Missy refused to go to school. Apparently she had already told a number of her friends that her mother had come to whisk her away to Buenos Aires. She didn’t want to face them, said she’d rather die. And she meant it. Jean, having raised three girls, knew and understood that these were the kinds of statements one can afford to make at the age of twelve. She assured her granddaughter that no one was going to hold it against her while stressing that dying was not the pleasant alternative it appeared. Jean suggested Missy tell her friends that life obviously has some other plan for her and it does not include going to Argentina.
Missy mulled this over while scowling at a bowl of increasingly soggy Toasted O’s. As Jean spread jam on a piece of toast, she explained, in an effort to appeal to her granddaughter’s current state of pre-teen angst, the concept of destiny. Something she said must have clicked, because soon, in between heaping spoonfuls of cereal, Missy began echoing Jean’s earlier suggestion. “You know, I do feel life wants me to stay here. That must be why my Mom bailed on me; because my life holds… a greater promise.”
Jean choked a bit on her toast. Holding her laughter in check, she nodded in agreement.
“Thank you, Grandma. That’s exactly what I will tell them. My life here, with you, has a greater purpose and I must remain here in order to meet… my destiny.” There was a slight pause in the conversation before Missy added, “I wonder what I should wear. It has to be something special. You know… just in case. I want to look my best when I meet… my destiny.” The thought of such a momentous event swept Missy up the stairs and into the bathroom. Jean breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted just in time. Now she wouldn’t have to drive anybody to school.
Later that morning, around ten or so, Jean was eying the lowest bid on the Price Is Right while vacuuming the living room. As she powered down her old Hoover, she realized somebody was pounding loudly on the front door. Leaving the vacuum in the middle of the floor, she rushed to see who it was. There, on the other side of the screen door, stood her good friend Terri. Terri didn’t bother waiting for an invitation. She opened the screen door, rushed right past Jean and took a seat at the kitchen table, talking non-stop from the moment she stepped inside. “Hey, kid. How ya doing? Sorry to barge in on you. Doing a little housework, huh? Not me. Not for a while, anyway. I just had to get out of that house. Eileen was driving me nuts with all her theories on why my houses keep bursting into flames. That’s house number two, if you’re keeping score. Is there coffee? No? Tea? Tea is good. You got any cookies?”
Since the fire, Terri had been staying at Paul’s sister’s house. Terri didn’t really get along with Eileen (‘Stick in the mud.’), but her sister-in-law offered and, according to Terri, when in crisis, you don’t turn family down. After wrapping up its cord, Jean stowed the vacuum temporarily to one side of the couch, while Terri tore through her cupboards looking for something to snack on. “You know Eileen doesn’t believe in sugar. Or salt. Or starch. What does that even mean? Who doesn’t believe in sugar? It’s a part of that pyramid thing the government issued. We’re supposed to eat at least one serving a day; otherwise it wouldn’t be on the chart. That’s what I told her. I mean, it’s a chart from the government, so how can you argue with that?” If she expected an answer, she didn’t wait for one. Her monologue continued, “You know, since the fire, this latest one, I mean, my nerves… my nerves are shot. They need sugar. They need caffeine. They need a bag of Old Dutch potato chips. Is that too much to ask?”
Having located Jean’s one indulgence (well, one of two, if you counted the Pecan Sandies she had hidden in the freezer down in the basement), a box of Nilla Wafers, Terri made her way to the kitchen table and took a seat. “What’s with your cupboards, Jean? You on a diet or something? Honey, you don’t need to lose weight, but you know what you could use? How about a boyfriend, huh? Okay, okay, I know, I know… barking up the wrong tree. Still, you should think about it. And you don’t need to diet to get one. I mean, look at me… I’m packing more pounds than Totie Fields and Paul still can’t keep his hands offa me.”
Jean smiled. While it was true that Teri could stand to lose a few, that was not going to be happening, not with the way those Nilla Wafers were disappearing into her mouth. As Terri continued to complain about her sister-in-law and her décor (“The bathroom has lavender shag carpeting. Okay, number one, who on earth carpets their bathroom? And two, who on earth carpets their bathroom in lavender shag? Ugh. Who knows what’s living down there?”), Jean busied herself with the teakettle. Once the water was heating, she grabbed cups from the cupboard, setting one in front of Teri along with the soon-to-be-empty box of tea bags. Jean made a mental note to add it to her shopping list; that and a box of Nilla Wafers.
“How long before you’re back in your own house?”
Terri shrugged. “Could be another week. There really wasn’t all that much damage. We caught it right away, but the smoke damage in the back of the house is kind of extensive. I volunteered to clean it up myself, but they told me it’s city ordinance or something; you have to have it done by professionals. I guess we know whose pockets city hall has their hands in, huh?” Terri scoffed. “Professional cleaners. I’ve been cleaning all my life. If that doesn’t make me a professional, then I don’t know what does.”
“Have they figured out the cause?”
“Nope.”
Jean waited for more, but Terri remained silent. Instead of offering up some possibilities, her friend stared at the center of the table, her mouth pulled into a tight knot. Jean thought this odd and considered dropping the topic altogether. Maybe it was still too new. She ventured one more question. “What does Paul say?”
“Paul? Paul thinks it’s electrical, like the last one, which makes no sense. This is a new house, less than ten years old. There’s nothing wrong with the electrical. Hey, your teakettle over there is about to start screaming.”
Jean moved swiftly to the stove to turn off the burner. She hadn’t considered the similarity between whistling teakettles and the sirens of firetrucks. Maybe they should talk about something else. But once she returned to the table with the steaming kettle determined to do just that, Terri came alive again.
“Ten years ago, you know. Ten years, almost to the day. Isn’t that something? If I didn’t know better I would think there was a curse on that lot or something. Or, that I should take it personal. But I can’t think of what I could’ve done to anger the big guy upstairs. I suppose I could go to church on Sunday or something like that, but hey, I’m too old to be converted into anything… except maybe rice. Do they still sell that stuff? Converted rice? Converted rice. What does that even mean?” Picking out a packet of Red Zinger, Terri dropped it into her mug and held it out for Jean to fill. “So what’s new with you? You look a little dragged out. You need some iron, or something? Do you take a multi-vitamin? I swear by them. You’re not dieting, are you? No, no… but you do look a little tired.”
“Stress, I guess. Or maybe my dreams…”
“You still dream about that Arneson boy? You know they talk about him on the news every year on the anniversary of his disappearance, like it was a national holiday, or something.”
“Oh, I’m still dreaming about him. But these latest dreams? They’re new. They started the night of your fire. Initially, I thought they had something to do with what was going on with Dorie and Missy, but now I’m not so sure.”
Having filled both cups with hot water, Jean returned the kettle to the stove. As she recounted all that had happened with Dorie, Missy, and Jeanette in the last few days, she mulled over the few tea bags left in the box. Then she remembered that she had a couple of Lipton tea bags stashed in the back of the cupboard, leftovers from last summer when she’d made some sun tea. They were caffeinated, but then she figured, tired as she felt, she could use the lift. Terri listened, tsk-tsking on occasion, shaking her head in dismay. Over the years, her dear friend had heard many a Dorie story, so it was nothing new. Terri was totally familiar with the family dynamics in her household, so Jean felt she needn’t hold anything back, including her abundant relief when Jeanette somehow convinced Dorie to change her mind.
“She must have something on her.”
“Huh?”
Terri smiled a knowing smile. “Jeanette. She must have something pretty juicy on Dorie. Trust me, when it comes to getting your way with family, blackmail always does the trick.”
“Well, I can’t imagine what it is…”
Terri wasn’t having it. “Really? Considering Dorie’s history?”
Jean shrugged. “I guess I’ve decided I really don’t want to know. They’re adults now. It’s not my business.”
Terri laughed. “Right. It’s none of your business until one day it shows up on your doorstep and then it is!”
They laughed at this. Truer words were never spoken.
“Oh, speaking of which - or should I say ‘witch’? - look what did show up on my doorstep the other day.” Jean fetched the kitchen witch from atop the refrigerator. “Someone sent this to me. Can you imagine? I think it’s one of those kitchen witches, or maybe a Halloween decoration.” Jean held out the doll for Terri to take. She did not. Instead, Terri grew quite still and then began shifting to the back of her chair, as if Jean were offering her something dangerous. “What’s wrong? Are you scared of it?”
“Stop waving that thing at me. Where did you get it?” Terri demanded.
“Like I said, it showed up on my doorstep the other day. I opened the door and there it was…in a box.”
“What kind of box?” .
“A plain cardboard box, sealed with a wide black ribbon. It had one of those old-fashioned wax seals holding it together… you know, like…”
“What color was the seal?”
Jean thought this an odd question. “Red. I meant to keep it, but when I removed it, it crumbled, so I threw it away.
“What did the seal look like? Was there a picture of something on it?” Terri’s questions were now coming quick and sharp.
“Yes… I guess it was a picture… some kind of animal. Maybe a dragon? Why do you ask? Do you know what this is?”
Again, Jean offered up the doll and again, Terri drew back. She looked at Jean and then at the doll. When she spoke her tone was very serious, not her usually chatty self at all. “What day did you say it showed up?”
“Sunday. The same day Dorie showed up. Originally, I thought it might be a gift from her. I asked, but she didn’t even know what it was. Do you?” Terri pursed her lips. Jean could see she was trying to decide whether or not to share what she knew. This scared Jean and she had to ask, “Is it satanic?”
Terri smiled. “No. Not satanic. Don’t be silly.” With that, Terri slammed the flat of her palm on the table. “Okay… so… this is what you’re gonna do. You need to get a bucket of water, place that thing in it, and then place it outside. Don’t look at it, don’t touch it, don’t check on it. Leave it out there until it rots.”
“Whaa..” Jean could not believe her ears.
But Terri was dead serious. “It can’t stay in your house, Jean.”
“Well, then, you take it.”
“Absolutely not. I’m not touching that thing. Now, you mentioned new dreams. What are they? Who are they about?”
The sudden change in topic made Jean grow even more fearful. “You think my new dreams have something to do with this doll?”
“I don’t know. Just… tell me about your dreams, okay?”
Jean shared all the details that she could remember. It was the same one she’d had the previous two nights. Except, last night, right as she was about to turn around to see who was approaching her from behind, she felt something… the water, the river itself… grab at her ankle. Dark and cold, it flowed upwards and wound its way tightly around her ankle. Jean struggled to keep this from happening and struggled even harder when she realized it, whatever it was, meant to drag her into the water.
The river became frenzied once it had her in its grasp. Jean turned back to the shore to beg for help from whoever had been approaching her. Perhaps they could save her, but no. Instead, three small children stood there, shoulder to shoulder, staring at her with unblinking eyes. They had no shoes. She screamed for them to help her, but they didn’t move, didn’t speak. But they saw, they saw what was happening.
At that moment, Jean felt herself being pulled under. Her body dragged with such force the rocks on the bottom of the river’s edge tore into her skin. She flailed about, but it was pointless. Whatever it was, it had her. She felt herself being carried away with the tide; swallowed and sent to the bottom of the river.
She shut her eyes, tight, like a small child praying for the monsters under her bed to go away. The water around her grew colder and colder. All was dark; black as the darkest of nights. And then… a glow. Some kind of light. Jean could feel it, see it, through the lids of her eyes. As she opened them to see what it was…
She awoke. Frozen to the core.
Terri, who’d been listening intently, remained immobile and said nothing. Moments passed. She sat, staring at Jean. Then, without warning, she abruptly stood, skirted around the kitchen table, and, with haste, made her way to the front door. Jean followed. At the door, Terri turned and said, “You take that doll and do what I told you… drown it. Don’t burn it. Drown it.”
With that, she was gone.
In a slight daze, Jean walked back into the kitchen. She looked at the doll, lying on the table. Picking it up, she took it to the sink. Turning it over in her hands, she examined it closely. It appeared homemade, but whoever had made it was quite the craftsperson. There was something quaint and rustic about it. How could this be evil? Chiding herself, she went to the furthest drawer, near the refrigerator - her designated ‘junk drawer’. Opening it, she chucked the doll inside and closed it.
Reseating herself at the table, she picked up her cup of tea and tried to recall all that Terri had said. It was nonsense, utter nonsense. It made no sense. After twenty minutes had passed, Jean began to feel bad, guilty for banishing the doll to the dark recesses of the junk drawer. She retrieved it and returned it to its home on the top of the fridge.
“Okay, you have a home, at least until Halloween.” Jean shrugged. “What harm can you do?”
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1 comment:
Ohhh so the doll is bad juju?
And didn't that doll appear in the other story???
XOXO
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