Chapter 1
Wiley had tried calling the sheriff in Alruna but she had not been of much help. She had of course asked around a little and then she had called him back only to let him know that no one had seen his brother and that no one had offered him employment either. It made no sense; Trent would not lie about such a thing so Wiley had decided to go down there to have a look around for himself on his vacation. Anabelle had not been happy about it at first of course, she had planned every day of his vacation to make sure to get out the most of it, but she had given in when she realized how worried he was. Family needs to look after family, who else will?
He slowed down and zigzagged between another set of potholes. Anabelle was a good woman and he considered himself lucky for being married to her, but there were days when he was envious about his brother’s vagabonding lifestyle. That he had insisted on going to look for his brother was partially out of worry, partially out of a need to go through a tiny rebellion and let the wind blow in his hair and get a little nibble at the taste of freedom. His first vacation alone since the year he got married. The song in the tape player changed and he sang along with Kris Kristofferson as he carefully drove down the cracked road.
Busted flat in Baton Rouge, headin' for the train,
Feelin' nearly faded as my jeans.
Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained;
Took us all the way to New Orleans.
I took my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna,
And was blowing sad while Bobby sang the blues.
Feelin' nearly faded as my jeans.
Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained;
Took us all the way to New Orleans.
I took my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna,
And was blowing sad while Bobby sang the blues.
The road started to twist itself down the side of a hill and then into a valley, he stopped singing and focused on the driving. The woods to the sides of the road cast deep dark shadows on the road and created cool pockets of air that felt refreshing compared to the patches of hot gazing sun, which still striped the road. He crossed a nearly dry creek and came to a cross road, the road sign was old and withered and the paint had partly fallen off but he could still read “..run.” on the part that pointed to the west. It had to be Alruna, the village he was looking for; he turned to the west and followed the creek farther down into the valley.
The woods cleared a few kilometres down the road and gave place for fields with bowing crops baking in the heat. Scattered trees and groves created small and well-needed spots of shadow but they were not enough to protect the fields from drying out. The windmills that should have propelled the irrigation systems stood still and it felt as if the whole world was shivering and fainting from heat stroke. He could see houses and barns here and there but no activity around them. “No wonder”, he thought, “no one in his right mind would be out working in the heat”. The road turned again and went through a grove and over the creek, on the other side the road sign let him know that he had arrived at Alruna.
Chapter 2
An electric fan buzzed, moved and spread wisps of cooler air and a scent of hay and tea around the room.
“Good evening,” a soft voice purred. “Terrible this heat, isn’t it?”
Wiley turned and looked at the woman, “Good evening ma’am. It has to be the worst in decades.”
“Indeed, indeed. The worst I’ve experienced in my life. Not that it means much…” the woman winked and laughed.
She looked as if she was about 70 years old Wiley thought, but he knew better than to ask.
“Of course,” he replied. “You are still too young to have seen it all.”
The woman laughed and her eyes glimmered, “A gentleman! How refreshing. I’m Lawinia Appelman, how can I help you?”
“I’m first of all looking for some cool water to drink, I’m feeling dehydrated,” Wiley looked around. “Then I’m looking for a place to stay the night.”
“We have a refrigerator over here where we store cool beverages,” Lawinia purred and showed him the way to a corner. “It’s not as fancy at the ones in the modern supermarket you find in the city but it still fills its function.”
She opened the door to the antique fridge and he browsed through the options. There were water bottles and sodas of brands he knew, and then there were bottles that seemed to be filled with homemade ice tea. He picked one up and read the label.
“Mint tea,” Lawinia purred by his side as she pretended to brush a fly off his shoulder. “It helps you cool down in this terrible heat.”
Wiley put the bottle back and picked up a water bottle instead, “Maybe the next time, right now I want something I’m familiar with.”
“Of course,” Lawinia smiled at him, “but you should try it some time, it truly works and so does my other teas too. See this? I’ve got cures for most things who ail mankind.” She pointed to the jars filled with different teas that filled one wall of the deli and then she took his left hand and fingered the golden ring on his ring finger for a brief moment then she let go. “Maybe something for your wife?” she continued. “I have a wonderful raspberry leaf and green tea mix for women who want to get pregnant.”
“Uh… Anabelle has her hands full with the girls; one more baby is the last thing on her mind right now.” Wiley felt uncomfortable with it all, he had not come there to buy some strange tea.
“Girls you say,” Lawinia walked over to the counter. “How wonderful, you must be so happy. How old are they?”
“They are five, three and then there is the baby that’s 11 months,” he told her and his heart jumped with pride, he was such a lucky man and he had a wonderful family. He picked up his wallet to pay for the water bottle and remembered the photo he had of the girls. “Here, this is a photo I took of the girls last month.”
“Oh how pretty they are,” Lawinia purred. “Oh how wonderful. You are truly a blessed man. Now need to pay for the water, just remember me if there is anything you need.”
“Well, I need the directions to a bed and breakfast too,” Wiley, said while paying Lawinia for the water. “I have to pay for myself, I insist.”
“Of course, of course… I almost forgot. Rowena Birchman has a room for rent, but I wouldn’t go there if I were you. It’s her cats you see, they are everywhere and the room, as well as her house, smells unpleasant. If you know what I mean.”
She winked at Wiley and he nodded back.
“My daughter on the other hand has a guesthouse that’s clean and cat free. She lives outside the village though…”
“Cat free sounds good to me,” Wiley let her know. “Are you sure that she wants to rent it out? I don’t know how long I’ll be staying.”
“No worries, no worries, the house stands empty. I’ll call Bethiah and let her know that you are on your way.”
***
Eyes behind curtains followed the stranger as he walked out from the deli and got into his car, the hot air shivered as curious minds reached out in a fruitless attempt to figure out who he was and why he was there. Nothing moved as if all life had frozen in the moment.
Chapter 3
“You must be Mr. Walker,” she purred in the same manner as her mother. “I’m Bethiah Appelman. No husband here.” She laughed, winked, and showed him the empty finger on her hand. “This way.”
She walked in front of him to show the way and he could not help looking and her female curves and slender legs. Her flirting ways had flattered him, not that he would ever cheat on his wife, but it was nice to feel that he still had “it” and that he still could attract women. The guesthouse left him nothing to wish for; there was a comfortable bed and a pantry where he could cook his food.
“Tell me Mr. Walker,” Bethiah leaned against the wall and puckered her lips. “What brings you to our quiet corner of the world?”
“My brother,” Wiley replied. “He’s a bit of a vagabond and he’s supposed to work somewhere around here. I figured I’d go to visit him during my vacation since I don’t get to see him that often.” The words felt true as he spoke them. That Trent had not called him did not mean that there was something wrong.
“Somewhere around here? I doubt it; there are no jobs around here anymore. That’s why most of the men and the youths have left; they go to the city to work.” Bethiah played with a strand of hair that escaped the knot and looked at him with deep dark eyes. “Men are rare around here…” she left the words hanging for a moment and then she continued with new enthusiasm, “I can be wrong of course. I don’t know it all and there are many small farms looking for extra manpower to help with the crops. Feel free to stay here for as long as you wish.” She walked up to him, touched his hair gently and drew lines down his neck with her fingertips, “I’ll be right here at home if you need something, just come on over.” She blew him a kiss and walked out. “Anything.” She added over her shoulder and then she was gone.
Wiley took a deep breath and looked around, Anabelle would not be happy if she found out what type of woman Bethiah Appelman was. He would turn all her offers down of course, his wife and the girls was his life and he would never do anything that put him at risk of losing them. There was a photo frame at his nightstand with a picture of some flowers and he picked one photo of the girls that he had in his wallet and stuck it in the frame hoping that it would be a subtle hint about how committed he was to his family. There were thick old trees growing all around the houses and he was thankful for the shade that they gave, even the evening sun had the power to make him grasp for air and wish for winter. He walked around the guesthouse to stretch his legs and think for a while.
It was a beautiful place to live at and he decided to stay there even though Bethiah’s flirtatious ways worried him a little bit, but better her than a bunch of stinky cats, he thought. A path led from the guesthouse and down into a clearing where the ground was covered by green lush moss. It was such a change from the dry and withered surroundings that he had to stop and take it all in for a while. The air was cool and fresh and under the trees around the clearing, he could see thick green plants with purple flowers in bloom, birds were chirping and the worries of the world seemed so distant.
***
Eyes followed his movements from the shadows and moved to the cover of the tree trunks when he looked in their direction. Suspense and anticipation were brewing in the air.
Chapter 4
A young voluptuous woman opened the door when he knocked at it and she flirted with him as she told him that she had not seen his brother and that she would hire him instead if he were interested. Every word and every move she made dripped with refined sensuality and suggestive eroticism and he gradually moved backwards towards the car as he talked to her. The sunlight shimmered like stars in her dark hair as she followed him with catlike movements, closer and closer. He opened the car door and she grabbed it and held it open.
“You don’t have to go,” she said with a deep sensual voice. “I’ll make dinner for you and fill all your needs.”
“No thank you,” he said as politely and determinedly as he could. “I’m a married man.”
“She would never know,” the woman whispered and reached for him. “What happens here stays here, it would only be between you, me and the stars.”
“No!” he started the car and pulled the door.
“I’ll be right here if you change your mind!” the woman called as he drove away.
His hear was beating hard as he drove down the dirt road leading away from the farm, what was it with the women in this area? Bethiah had told him that there were few men around but that did not explain why she and the woman at the farm acted as they did.
He hit the breaks and came to a full stop as a person stepped out into the road in front of the car.
“Are you out of your mind!” he yelled as he shook his fist to the raggedy figure.
The figure leaned on his car, it was a man, weathered and tormented that came up to the window by his side.
“Leave now!” the man whispered loudly. “Leave before it is too late!” He shied away for a brief moment whiles listening to the sounds form the field. “Go! Don’t come back!” His eyes were big with fright, his mouth shivering and his hands shaking.
“Why?” asked Wiley. “Can I help you?”
“Go!” the man squeaked. “Save yourself and leave now! Go!” Then he turned around and ran down the road, back toward the farm that Wiley had just left.
Shaken he just sat there for a while, was it just a mad man or was it something else? Should he go back to find out more or should he keep on driving? He decided that it was a mad man, probably left behind when the sane ones went to find jobs else where, and that the woman at the farm was likely to be capable at handling such a man. Then he drove back to the guesthouse to make himself something to eat and take a well-needed shower.
The shower made him feel like a new man and the eerie feeling that his encounter with the man had left with him faded away. He stirred up the best cheese and macaroni he had ever tasted and washed it down with a cold beer as he watched the sunset turn the world into glittering gold for a while. It had been a long day and he looked forward to a good nights sleep with the air condition on, there would be a new and better day in the morning. However, the desperate women and the strange man had left a trace in his mind and he made sure to lock the door and the windows before going to bed.
***
Eyes followed him from the shadows, the wind carried hissing whispers and the ground trembled with exaltation. Something was stirring, the heat trembled and the leaves in the trees shrivelled. In the dark of the night, the shadows crawled up to the door and sniffed by the windows. Mouths watered, bellies gnarled and grumbled, so close… so close…
Chapter 5
He stopped by the creek and got out of the car to walk in the shade of the trees and vent his frustration for a while. It felt as if he was banging his head against a wall and that every step he took forward pushed him back to the beginning again. The thin ripple of water that was left in the creek gathered in a tiny pool and he went there to wet his ands and face to cool off and wash away the frustration that was glued to his skin.
“You won’t get much out of them women,” said a deep voice. “The sisterhood looks after their own.”
Wiley spun around go see where the voice came from and found a dark man sitting in the shadow of a tree. He seemed to be just as old and wrinkled as the tree trunk, his hair was grey as ashes and his eyes were dark as coal, the stains on his black suit made him blend in even more.
“You’re not the only one to come looking,” the man continued. “Nor will you be the last.”
“You know what has happened to my brother? You know where he is?” Wiley asked.
The man laughed a deep and hollow laugh, “Know and know… one can only guess. But guessing can be more than just guessing of course.”
“How can I find him?” Wiley walked closer to the man.
“Have a seat son, and tell me about your brother,” the old man pointed to a root next to him.
Uncertain about what to say Wiley started talking about his brother in general telling what he looked like, how old he was and what he had said in his last letter. The old man listened in silence and the silence continued when Wiley stopped talking.
“Sir,” he said when he got tired of waiting for the man to speak. “I need to know how to find my bother.”
“You shouldn’t go looking for him. The full moon will soon be here; you should leave while you can.” The old man looked at him with sad eyes.
“I can’t leave without seeing him first,” Wiley replied with determination.
“You won’t find the man you knew, you won’t find what you seek, and you risk your own soul if you stay,” the man said with a low deep voice. “You should leave now and never come back.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Wiley thought of the mad man.
“You’ve heard it because it is true,” the old man told him.
“I can’t leave without seeing my brother. I won’t leave until I find out what’s going on.”
“I understand you and I will tell you what can be told.” He picked up a black hat and put it on his head. “But not here son. Not here. There is something creeping in from the fields, we better move.”
***
The crawling shadows sniffed the air… he was near, so near…
Chapter 6
“What do you know about witches, son?” the old man said silently.
“Uh… they were innocent women burned on the stake by the inquisition, but most of what I know comes from TV series and movies.”
“Then you know nothing son,” the old man shook his head. “It’s true, some where innocent, but only because they were put there in the place of the real witches. And, real witches don’t fly on brooms or cook frogs warts in black caldrons either.” He stopped talking, picked up a hip flask, emptied it and looked around warily. “The sixth daughter of the sixth daughter, she is here. Evil is her doings, foul are her intentions, she is looking for a mate, a man…” He stopped to listen to something that only he could hear. “Her sisters are here too, sweeter are their appearance less corrupted are their deeds, still they are all hell hounds set to eat your soul.” He stopped to stare into the dark.
“Witches?” Wiley whispered in disbelief.
“Lux Lucis Sanctimonalis,” the man muttered. “Light sisters, serving the light-bearer, Lucifer. You know of him don’t you?”
Wiley nodded since he was not sure what to believe or say.
“I’m too old for them to take any interest in me and too clever for them to catch me. I walk free where all other men find their doom.” He stopped again to listen to something.
“Are you saying that they murder men?” Wiley felt shocked.
“Oh no son, it’s much worse, much worse,” the old man whispered. “They enslave them and keep their wretched souls in eternal torment, destroying their minds and their bodies. What’s left once they are done is nothing but bastardized ravaged shadows of what once was. This is why you have to leave; this is why you won’t find your brother. There is no hope left for the person he once was but there is still hope for you, you can still get away.”
“I have to save him! Don’t you understand? He’s my brother and if this is true then I have to save him!”
“There is no saving him son,” the old man hissed. “The witches will never let you get to him; they will never let him go. If he could tell you one thing, he would tell you to save yourself. I assure you of that son. I assure you of that.”
“I don’t believe you!” Wiley got up on his feet and started pacing back and forth. “I don’t know what’s happening here but I have to find my brother and save him. I have to bring him home.”
“I don’t have to power to stop you son. I don’t have the power to convince you that I tell the truth. You are a free man son, but remember this; the full moon is here soon and they will hunt for fresh blood then. If you are still here then your blood is what they will desire the most. Mark my words, they will come for you. What ever you do, don’t call for them, don’t follow them, don’t go to them willingly, never ever accept gifts from them and never give them gifts either, not even a promise!”
“This is nonsense! Witches are not real,” Wiley muttered loudly and then he turned and walked back to the car, leaving the old man behind.
A senile old man, that was what it was, too many fairytales mixed with a confused mind, and he had wasted his time listening to all that drivel. He should have known better, it was obvious all the men left in the area were mad men and senile old fools. The women, desperate as they were, were no evil servants of Satan; they were simply lonely women.
***
The crawling shadows rejoiced when they saw him walk back up to the car. He was not lost to them, not yet. Grinning faces followed him as he opened the door and got in.
Chapter 7
The shadow that he had parked the car in was long gone and the car was hot as an oven as he got in, Cursing himself for wasting so much time, he took the hot wheel and turned back up on the road again. He thought something moving in the shadows for a brief moment but there was nothing there when he took a closer look, and he contributed it all to the ghosts the old man had painted in his mind. The last water in his bottle was warm, tasted plastic and did not wet his mouth long enough to make a difference. “I should have known better,” he thought, “one water bottle is not enough in this heat.” He threw the bottle out the window, irritated over the time he had wasted and the lack of water.
The village and the deli were at least ten kilometres behind him and he had to decide if he should turn back and buy more water or go on for another couple of hours. If the women he were about the meet were anything like the ones he had already met then there would be no problem getting a glass of water, he decided, and then he kept on driving. Thoughts and worries spun around in his head, women’s voices, creeping shadows, the old man’s words about witches and enthralled tormented men… and his brother. His brother was an experienced man that had travelled high and low for many years of his life; he would know how to take care of himself… would he not?
The car coughed and pulled him out of his thoughts, then it made another strange sound and another and then it started to slow down.
“No!” he shouted and banged the wheel with his hands. “No! No! No!”
The car did not listen and it rolled for another couple of meters and came to a full stop. Wiley got out and opened the hood, it was a pointless effort of course; he knew nothing about cars and engines. Grunting and cursing he poked around a bit here and a bit there and then, he tried to start the car again. Nothing happened. Frustrated and furious he jumped up and down in his seat throwing out every curse he had ever known and a few he made up then and there, but the car would not start.
“Damn you!” he shouted. “Damn you! You don’t exist!”
The rows of teeth faded and the laughter turned into crickets playing and he laughed madly while falling to his knees.
“You’re not real,” he laughed. “You’re not real.”
“I am real,” I woman’s voice told him. “I assure you that Mr. and that you seem to be suffering from heat stroke.”
He crawled around on his knees and found the feet of a person.
“Come here Mr, you need to get out of the sun and you need something to drink.”
He looked up and saw a lanky butch woman in man’s clothes reaching her hand out to him. She looked unreal somehow and he was not sure that she was there for real.
“This is not the time or place for pondering,” she told him and then she pulled him up on his feet. “Come here, I’ve got air conditioning and a water bottle in my car.”
He staggered around like a drunken person and she more or less carried him to the car, put him in it and forced him to drink the water. The cool air caressed his skin and he could see Anabelle and the girls playing in the waves by the beach that he was laying on. The wind was playing in Anabelle’s hair and she kept pushing it out of her eyes, he reached out to help her, to kiss her and to let her know how much he loved her.
“Sorry Mr,” said a rasp woman’s voice, “I don’t kiss strangers.”
He looked up and saw the lanky woman and the inside of her car. “Heat stroke,” he thought. “It was just an illusion.”
***
The shadows moved, hissed, and brewed. Their catch, their prey was being swept away.
Chapter 8
“I’ve locked your car,” she told him. “It’s safe to leave it where it is. I’ll take you back to my place to cool you off. I warn you though, no funky business. I’m a fully trained master in the noble art of cruch-yo-nuts and I will use it.”
Wiley tried to focus on her face but it was all a blur, “No funky business.” He let her know.
“Good,” she laughed a dry laugh. “I’m Jezebel Jesse by the way, people call me Jez.”
“Wiley,” he replied.
“You shouldn’t be travelling this heat without water Mr. Wiley,” she told him. “You’re lucky I found you, this kind of heat might as well have killed you.”
He nodded in reply and tried to focus on the road to see where she was taking him.
“There was an old man…” he slurred, “an old man in black talking about witches.”
She laughed cheerfully, “You seem to have had the trip of your life! Any flying houses? How about a yellow brick road and a scarecrow?”
Ding Dong! The Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.
Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead.
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.
Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead.
The car slowed down and turned on to a smaller road.
“We’re almost at my place now. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he said and felt a banging headache start as he said it.
“Good, I’m not much of a nurse.”
She parked and got out to help him. He felt as if he was steadier on his feet as he leaned on her, followed her up the few steps onto her font porch, and had a seat in a comfortable chair.
“You just wait there and I’ll get you something to drink,” she told him and went into the house.
He looked around, the house was located in a shadowy grove, there were garages and small buildings scattered all around, and there were cars, tractors, harvesters and other machines on almost every spot around them. There were eyes in the shadows, keeping a watching eye on him, swaying and moving, but he knew that they were not real, they were simply hallucinations created by his overheated mind.
“Here you go,” she told him when she got back. “The best ice tea you can get hold of in this county.”
He turned and looked at her as she poured him ice tea from a big jug, then he took the glass and drank it all.
“Easy,” she laughed. “Don’t drink it too fast; it will make you feel sick.”
She filled his glass again and then she filled a smaller glass for herself. His stomach revolted and turned into a knot, sweat from pain dripped down his back but he was too proud to let her know that she was right.
“It’s good,” he let her know and sipped some more from the glass.
“I told you so,” she smiled at him as if she could see through his deception.
They sat there in silence looking out on the flickering shadows that danced underneath the trees; she seemed to see nothing strange in it so he assumed that it was all in his mind. The ice tea did him good, he could feel how he became cooler and how he started to function properly again. The old man was just in his lively imagination and he pictured how he and Trent would laugh about the silliness of it all one day soon. Anabelle on the other hand would never hear a word about it, she would not see the fun in it and she would be sad because of the danger he was had been in. Sweet, wonderful Anabelle. His heart ached as he thought about her, the most perfect woman that had ever walked this earth.
“Who is she?” Jez asked.
He looked at her with surprise, “How did you know that I thought of a woman?”
She laughed, “You’ve faced death, black old men and witches. Most men think of their loved ones, the things they know to be true, when they face such situations.”
“Anabelle,” he told her. “My wife.”
“You better go back to thinking about her then; reality will be here soon enough.”
Then they sat there in silence again, resting from the heat and the dusty day.
***
The eyes in the shadows crawled and moved. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair.” They hissed and puffed. “We saw him first didn’t we, he’s ours. He’s ours.”
Chapter 9
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” she let him know. “I’m the only one who knows the secret ingredient, nowadays.”
“You should patent it. Your grandmother’s ice tea would be a great success all over the world, and you would become rich.”
She laughed, “I don’t care for riches. If I had then I would have stayed in the city rather than moved out here.”
“You come from the city?”
“My mother moved us all there when I was little, I hated it, but what can a child do? Then my grandmother grew old and needed help and no one wanted to care for her so I saw my chance. This is where I belong…” she lifted her hand and pointed out into the grove. “This is where the paths and the trees know my name, where the birds sing my song…” she stopped and looked at him shyly, “It probably sounds silly.”
“No not at all,” he replied. “I know the feeling though it is connected to another place.”
“The place where your wife is?”
He grinned, “That’s it.”
“Do you have any children?”
“Three daughters,” he told her proudly.
“How wonderful, you must be so happy. How old are they?”
“They are five, three and then there is the baby that’s 11 months,” he told her. He picked up his wallet and took out a photo of the girls. “Here, this is a photo I took of the girls last month.”
“Oh how pretty they are,” she told him. “Oh how wonderful. You are truly a blessed man.”
Chills flowed down his spine, the image of a woman flashed before his eyes and he had a feeling of déjà vu, had this not happened before? Or was his mind playing tricks on him again?
“I have daughters too,” she told him with a sad tired voice. “They are living with their father; it’s for the best… I don’t even have photos of them.” She got up and shook her body as if she was shaking the bad memories off her shoulders. “Enough about that. Now how about you? Why are you here and what did you do to your poor car?”
He got up too, but slowly, “I’m looking for my brother. He got a job in this area over a month ago and we haven’t heard from him since. It’s unlike him and I’m here to see if everything is alright with him.”
She listened to him with a serious expression on her face, “Do you have an address or a name to tell where he was staying?”
“No, all he said was that he would be working on a farm.”
“And how long ago was this exactly?”
“I got the letter in the first week of June but… it must have taken the letter a week to arrive, so he must have gone here in late May.”
She stood silent and looked deep into the shadows while she thought about it.
“The ploughing had already been done,” she then said. “It was after the sowing of the crops and after the livestock had been moved to the summer gracing on most farms. There was little work for a hired help to do on most farms at that time and that should help you narrow down the farms where he could have worked.”
He felt hope flow into him again as he took in what she was saying.
“I know that the LaVelle’s built a new barn during that time… and I think the Birchman’s dug new ditches…” she drifted into thought for a little while and then she turned to him. “Let’s do this. I’ll take you back to your car and help you start it. Then I’ll go back home and make a few phone calls while you go back home to get some rest. Then you can come to me when you are fully rested and I’ll tell you what I’ve found out, and I’ll help you find your brother.”
He suddenly felt how tired he was and he nodded, “That sounds great. I don’t know how to thank you enough…”
“Don’t thank me before it is all over,” she smiled at him and pointed to her car.
He walked straight to the car and got in to it and she grinned triumphantly out into the shadows right before she got in too.
***
The shadows growled as the car backed out from the yard and drove away. “No no no! He’s ours, he’s ours!” Then they started moving with the speed of running dogs, panting and barking on the way. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”
Chapter 10
The car started at the first try when they got back to it and Jez told him that the heat that had probably stopped the car, and that he should refill the radiator with water. He could not remember that the meter had showed that the car was too hot, but on the other hand, he could remember things that were clearly hallucinations, so he could easily have missed it. She stood by the road and watched him turn the car around and he turned to get one last glimpse of her as he drove away. It had been refreshing to meet a normal person again, he thought, as he followed the road back to the guesthouse and he looked forward to seeing her again to find out if she would be able to help him find Trent.
The setting sun painted the sky in amazing colours as he got out of the car, he looked to the horizon for any sign of clouds and cooler weather but he found none. His body was heavy and tired and he dragged his feet as he walked through the door and locket it behind him. There was only one thought in his mind, sleep. He fell into the bed with his clothes on and fell asleep instantly.
His dreams were filled with the sounds of roaring storms, screaming women, barking dogs and the voice of the old man saying, “What do you know about witches, son?” Voluptuous women reached for him, the shadows had eyes and the grill of a ’58 Chevy floated by now and then. The old man in black turned into Lucifer standing at a dusty southern crossroad, trying to buy his soul whiles Robert Johnson was singing the blues.
Blues fallin' down like hail
Blues fallin' down like hail
And the days keeps on worryin' me
There's a hellhound on my trail
Hellhound on my trail
Hellhound on my trail
Blues fallin' down like hail
And the days keeps on worryin' me
There's a hellhound on my trail
Hellhound on my trail
Hellhound on my trail
Women crying, wailing and moaning, soft puckered lips tempting, shadows running and the grill of a Chevy floating by… floating by … a ’58 Chevy… he struggled to wake up, he had to clear his mind, there was something he had to remember. His hand moved though it felt as if it was lifting the weight of the world, his foot fell out of the bed and then he slowly struggled up in a sitting position. It was still night and there was no lights on. His head pounded and ached, his mouth felt dry and his hands trembled. The grill of a Chevy, he thought repeatedly, the grill of a Chevy. The light from the lamp on the nightstand hurt like daggers stuck into his eyes, and blinked a couple of times to get used to the light. Trent drove a Chevy. A blue Chevy.
The legs where shaking underneath him as he struggled to get to the bathroom to take a shower. The grill of a Chevy. He had seen it somewhere but his mind was too clouded for him to be able to remember where. The cold-water from the shower quickened his senses and a cup of coffee helped him clear his thoughts. The nightmare faded and he found it easy to brush it off when he remembered the heat stroke from the day before. Trent drove a ’58 Chevy, he thought, but that did not mean that he had seen the grill of that Chevy. Another cup of coffee cleared his mind further and he remembered where he had seen it, it had been sticking out from underneath a tarp at one of the farms he had visited last evening.
It was still night but he decided to go to have a closer look. The air was cooler, he did not risk another heat stroke, and no one would know that he had been there to have a look. The owners of the farm would not be alarmed if it was his brother’s car and he would stand a greater chance of finding him. Jez lived not far down the road and he could go to visit her as soon as the dawn was there. It would be very early in the morning but he was eager to get going and she had told him to come to visit when he was fully rested, without specifying a time. Chills of fear crawled through his veins, what if it was Trent’s car, what had happened to him and would he find him alive?
***
The eyes in the shadows glimmered; he had gone out at night. The hunt was on! Eager breaths panted, claws dug into the dirt and the chase began. They chased the car fast and easy as the wind, the taste of blood was on their tongues. The prey was theirs, they would get him, they would get him.
Chapter 11
He found the tarp and lifted it to see more of the car, it was too dark, he fumbled to turn his flashlight on, and the world around him held its breath. Every living thing tensed, leaves shivered and the suspension turned into knots. The light showed the blue colour of the Chevy and his heart skipped beat, and then he moved to see the car better while removing more of the tarp. The sounds of the tarp covered the sounds of the night and he never heard them as they crawled up behind him. They sniffed and panted and then they dug their claws into his flesh and pulled him with them.
The sharp pain pulled him back into the moment; he cried out in pain and tried to kick himself free from the sharp claws and fangs that were digging into his flesh. The shadows took form and turned into horrid and monstrous shapes of women, dark and cruel with fires burning in their eyes. Chills of fear froze his limbs, his chest cramped as his heart stopped beating and his lungs cried for air. Then the fear turned from cold to hot and the heat gave him more strength, he kicked the evil shadows, twisted his flesh free from their claws and then he ran.
“Get him! Get him!” the shadows shrilled.
Wiley ran for his life, as fast as he could, across the fields and into the woods. The shadows would catch up with him and claw him now and then but he would break free and keep on running. Their eyes would dance around him and their laughter would terrify his soul. The ground seemed to help them by sticking up rocks and roots in his path and he tumbled and fell as soon as he thought he had picked up speed and was breaking free from them. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to find safety and he would cry out in panic every time his mind came to the same realization, they would catch him.
“He’s mine!” a voice cried.
“No! He’s mine! I saw him first!” another voice replied.
The squabbling voices fell behind and hope found him again, perhaps this was his chance to get away. The ground disappeared from underneath his feel and he tumbled down the side of the creek and landed on the rocks, he struggled to get up but his legs would not obey him and he started crawling instead. Over the rocks, through the shallow water and up on the other side.
“Where is he? Find him!” a voice shouted and the hunt was on again.
Wiley dug his fingers into the ground underneath the trees and pulled himself farther away. The pain blinded and weakened him and the newly found hope faded again. He could not run and he could not hide; what else could he do to save himself? Why had he not listened to the old man in black clothes…
“Don’t let him get away! Find him! Find him!” the voices crowed not far behind him.
He crawled on while the thought of the old man lingered in his mind, it had not been far from here that he had met him and they had talked in the shelter of the trees.
“It’s not real,” he whispered to a rock beside his face. “I need to get to Jez, she will help me, she will know what to do.”
Claws dug into his arm and flipped him over on his back. Black shadows shaped as women and ravens circled him while crying out in triumph. Their long arms reached for him, their claws ripped his clothes to shreds, they dragged him with them, and he felt nothing. The light from the moon and the stars where gone and the shapes of the shadows blurred out into big blobs of fluff. Their great black wings moved, their mouths opened but there was no sound.
He opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Jez help me!” but there was no sound.
A sharp light blinded his eyes, the light at the end of the tunnel, he thought, this is how I die… and then it all faded into darkness.
Chapter 12
“I told you I’m not a nurse didn’t I?” she asked him.
He tried to shape the words but failed so he nodded instead.
“Just a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into eh? Didn’t I tell you to go home and get some rest? Did you take my advice? No! You had to go running in the woods like a crazy person. Is that it? You’re crazy and should be locked up? Did you run away from some sort of institution?” She did not stop to listen for answers she just kept on scolding him while she looked at his cuts and bruises. “I shouldn’t help you; that would be for the best. Lord knows what kind of mental issues you have.”
She got up and walked away from him, and he wanted to cry out in fear but did not manage to make a sound. The fear fuelled him and he managed to turn and get up on his hands and knees to follow her. He was surprised to find that he had been laying on the ground in front of her front porch but relieved that she was still near. The effort he put in to getting up the porch stairs was monumental and he was completely exhausted when he climbed the last step. There was a radio playing in the house and he could hear a reporter talk about the heat wave and how people were going crazy from the heat and that people had started to die too. He closed his eyes, heat stroke, he knew it was driving him crazy and he still fell into it and acted as if it was real.
He woke up again in the afternoon, still laying on her front porch, and found that she had cleaned and put plasters on his wounds and put a sheet over him. The radio was still playing and he could hear her move around in the kitchen whiles singing along.
Politicians hide themselves away
They only started the war
Why should they go out to fight?
They leave that role to the poor
They only started the war
Why should they go out to fight?
They leave that role to the poor
He got up on his feet and leaned against the doorpost while he wrapped the sheet around himself, then he walked into the house. The kitchen was no like anything he had expected, every surface was covered with machine parts, nuts, screws and bolts. Jez was standing by the stove with her back against him.
“Welcome in to my home Mr. Walker,” she said without turning. “I’m not a five star chef but no one has died from my cooking either.” She turned off the radio and pointed him to a chair. “You better have a seat before you fall over.”
He was thankful for her offer; his legs had started shaking again.
“You found me,” he said even though it was obvious.
“Yes. You were crawling around in the grove by my garden screaming like a banshee.”
“They were … they…” Images flashed through his mind and he started to feel uncertain about what he had seen.
“Yes?”
She turned and looked at him, and he felt as shy and small as a schoolgirl.
“I was hallucinating. I saw witches.”
She laughed and shook her head, “Witches? Crooked noses, warts, cats, brooms and all?”
He blushed, squirmed and felt silly, “No.”
“Hungry?” she lifted the ladle and showed him the soup she was cooking.
“Yes,” he replied, happy for the change of subject.
She filled a bowl and put it on the table in front of him and then she dried a spoon in a towel and gave it to him. “Eat it up. It will make you feel better.”
The hot thick soup tasted unlike anything he had even eaten before, it was not entirely disagreeable but not something that he would like to eat again either.
“Here,” she walked back into the kitchen. “I have some clothes for you. You can have them; it’s nothing I want to keep. The bathroom is down to the left.” She pointed in the general direction.
***
The shadows crawled and mowed to be able to see through the windows. “No!” They moaned. “No! He’s ours.” Their claws dug into the ground and they crouched, like cats getting ready to strike their prey. “She can’t have him!” They hissed.
Chapter 13
“You should stay out of the sun for now,” she told him, pulled him back on the porch, and had him sit in a chair. “I can’t baby-sit you all the time; you are a grown man after all.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just … I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before,” he said as he looked out to the treetops only to find that the sunrays were gone.
“You have to be a city boy,” she shook her head. “Can I get something for you?”
He remembered the heat stroke and that he needed to stay hydrated and said, “Some more of your ice tea would be nice, thank you.”
She walked into the house and he leaned forward to see if he could see the sunrays again but all he could see was ordinary sunlight, dusty leaves and dry trees towering over the scrapheap that was Jez’s garden. Disappointed over not seeing the beautiful colours again he turned to studying the cars that were spread through out the garden. Old cars, new cars, obviously broken cars and cars that seemed to be working, some were rusty wrecks and others were classic beauties such as the ’58 Chevy that was sticking out of a garage. A blue ’58 Chevy. His heart skipped a beat and barbwire ripped through his veins. He looked again and the Chevy was still there so he got up and walked over to it. It was surreal, as if he was floating above the ground rather than walking on it and when he got to the car, he hovered over it whiles he studied every detail. It was Trent’s car.
The sound of music pulled him back to the house, breathless he walked up the steps of the front porch and sat down in the chair before Jez came back out with the ice tea. His mind was spinning with flashing images and colours and it felt as if he had ended up in a carnival of madness. She had changed her clothes when she came back out again and was wearing a light summery dress and heavy black boots to go with it. “So that’s what fairies in boots look like,” he thought and saw nothing odd in it. The ice tea tasted even better than it had done the day before and he emptied his glass and let her fill it again. The kaleidoscope sunrays danced in her hair and he tried to pick them to make a bouquet of them as if they were flowers.
“Follow me,” she said with a soft voice and started walking back into the house again.
He got up to follow her and then he stopped… there was something he had to do, he thought. Or was it something that he had done? He looked around to try to figure out what it was but the thought escaped him and he turned to follow her back into the house. She danced around like a brightly coloured leaf in a fall storm and he danced after her, through the house, up the stair and into a large sitting room. The room was full with flowerpots, there were low plants with light purple flowers and yellow fruits in all of them, and a faint light was coming from the ceiling. He looked up and saw colourful decorated glass candleholders hanging in thin delicate chains, and the sight filled him with so much joy that he had to laugh. There were windows on all four walls, they were wide open, and the curtains were flagging as the wind brought cool apple scented air into the room. “What a wonderful room,” he thought, “I could stay here for forever.”
“Come here,” she told him, “there is something I want from you. There is something I need.”
***
The shadows threw themselves at the defences around the house, digging, biting, clawing to get through. They spread their wings to fly up to the windows but found that they could not lift from the ground. Crying and wailing they cast every evil spell and every curse that they knew.
Chapter 14
He turned and looked at her; it was amazing what difference a dress could do, she looked so soft and feminine now. She had kicked off the boots and was sitting on the sofa holding a bowl full with small yellow fruits that she cut open to remove the seeds.
“I’ve treated you well haven’t I?” she asked. “I’ve helped you when ever I could.”
“Yes,” he walked over to the sofa and sat beside her.
***
The shadows outside the house took shape, became solid and they called their minions and ordered them to destroy the barrier. Hissing and spitting witches with only one aim, one goal, to break into the house and stop the sixth daughter of the sixth daughter from tying the man to herself. If she succeeded, if she managed to become pregnant with her sixth daughter… then her power would become so great that they would all be her puppets, her slaves. They had to stop her.
Talora ordered her minions to dig their way in, Jerushah focused on the spells that created the invisible barrier whiles Behira and Zelphia were literally whipping up a storm. Mehalia and the lesser witches were cooking and brewing but they did not share what was in their caldrons.
***
“Here, taste these,” she said and gave him fruit. “I’ve been glad to help you. People need to look after one another or this world will fall apart. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he nodded and ate the apple-scented fruit.
“I know it’s a big gift that I will ask you for, even though it won’t cost you much…”
She looked so vulnerable that he had to move and put his arms around her. Her skin was soft as silk and her scent smelled like good memories and the air around her tasted happiness and joy.
“It’s OK,” he told her while holding her gently. “Just ask.”
“I’m worried that you will think less of me…”
“It’s OK,” he said and kissed her forehead.
“I’ve lost my family. I’ve lost everything I loved… and I’m growing older…” she stopped and hesitated.
***
The sky was full with dark clouds and Behira and Zelphia started directing the lightnings to the barrier around the house, lightning after lightning struck and made the ground shake. The shaking ground made the tunnels that Talora’s minions were digging collapse and she roared in fury when the ground swallowed them, and then in triumph when a crack in the barrier became visible. Jerushah rushed there to take control of the opportunity and Mehalia ordered her minions to dig out the dirt-covered minions from the collapsed tunnel and fill the hole with the brew that she and the lesser witches had brewed.
***
The face of a woman flashed through his mind, he knew her but he could not remember how. It was important and he tried to focus and sort his thoughts. The house started shaking and he lost track of his thoughts and looked around.
“What’s that?”
“Thunder,” she let him know. “I hope it means that it will rain.”
He could feel her tremble and he held her tighter, she looked so little and so weak, like a newborn fawn and he wanted to protect her and keep her safe, to help her as she had helped him. A blanket was laying over the back of the sofa and he picked it up and wrapped it around them both, in an attempt to make her feel safer.
“It’s OK,” he let her know. “It’s OK.”
“I promise you, what happens here stays here…” she whispered in his ear. “Trust me.”
“I do,” he said, even though he still did not know what it was all about and then he turned to look at her.
Her eyes filled up with tears and he could see the pain in her face, deep bottomless pain and sorrow. It broke his heart to see those tears and he kissed them away, just as he used to do with … pictures flashed through his mind, a face, several faces… there was something that he should remember.
***
The witches cried in triumph when the crack in the barrier opened even more, they were winning! Just a little bit more and they would be able to break through and go inside.
Chapter 15
Mehalia’s poisonous brew cooked and bubbled in the pits, one last ingredient and the brew would erupt, spray acidic corrosive fumes on the barrier, and weaken it further. She looked around for the ingredient and found Lawinia Appleman standing by her side. “That will do,” she though and then she pushed the old hag into the brew. Nothing happened at fist other than Lawinia’s hissing curses and desperate clawing to get up from the brew. Mehalia kicked her back down and then the brew started to bubble and get ready to erupt…
***
“Anabelle,” he whispered and the name echoed through his body.
“She will never find out,” she whispered with pain dripping from her breath. “What happens here stays here.”
“What is it that you want?” He studied her tormented face to find clues.
“A child of my own. Before it is too late…” she shivered and trembled. “The pain… the sorrow is eating me.” She touched his hand gently, “I understand if I’m asking too much, but I assure you, she would never find out. Never.”
***
The witches and their minions cheered when Mehalia’s brew erupted and the acid made the barrier even thinner. Soon, soon…
***
Anabelle was his wife; it was her face that he had seen flashes of, and they had children, daughters. There was more, he had a brother, Trent, and that was why he had come there. He had to find Trent and …
She moaned in pain and hugged him hard, “Please…”
“I have to find my brother,” he mumbled. “I have to find Trent.”
“Help me,” she begged with a pitiful voice, “and I will help you. I’ll help you find him in the morning.”
Something was not right, though he did not know what but he knew that he did not trust her.
“You know how to find him?” he asked.
“Yes,” her voice trembled and sweat shaped pearls on her skin.
***
Claws, fangs and fingers reached through the crack in the barrier and they gnawed it to tiny fragments, crushed it as if it was an eggshell. They were only moments away from breaking through.
***
He felt certain that it was a trick somehow, that he should be wary. It was something connected to his brother that did not add up but he could not remember what. She was lying, he decided, she had no intention to help him, no intention to help him find his brother.
“Help me find him first. Help me find Trent and I will help you,” he told her and smiled smugly inside, that should sort it out. He would not give her anything unless she helped him find his brother.
“I promise to find your brother and take you to him,” she said with a clear soft voice. “Do you promise to help me once I have reunited the two of you?”
***
Behira and Zelphia shot lightning after lightning at the weakened barrier, not caring about the minions that they killed in the process. Talora cracked her whip and forced her minions back to the crack and through it, and once the minions where through they started tearing the barrier down as if it had been built with cardboard boxes. It all came tumbling down …
***
Jezebel cried out in pain and curled up into a ball, “Promise,” she moaned, “promise.”
“What’s wrong?” he was truly worried about her. “Are you ill? Do you need a doctor?”
He touched her pale clammy skin and found her to be strangely cold. Her eyes were dazed and her breathing was shallow. The whole house was shaking and rumbling and he thought that he heard someone knocking at the door.
“Promise,” she whispered. “Promise first.”
“I think there is someone at the door,” he told her. “I’ll go open it and then I’ll call for help.”
He tried to get up and she clung to him, “Please don’t leave me like this. Not without letting me know first.” She begged.
He felt sorry for her, she was so weak and in so much pain and he wanted to comfort her.
“I promise,” he told her. “You promise to help me find my brother and I promise to help you once I have met him again.”
“I promise,” she told him.
Chapter 16
The pain faded from her face, she got up on her feet and she grew tall and strong and then she turned towards the stairs to greet the minions that were on their way up.
“Back down!” she roared. “Step aside and let your owners though.”
The minions fell to the floor and crawled back down again and moments later, the witches ran into the room squealing and crowing. Behira threw a lightning at Jezebel, and it faded and disappeared.
“I have his promise,” Jezebel said with a voice loud as thunder.
The lesser witches moaned and shivered in fear, several of them fell to their knees and started to beg for pardon, claiming that they had been misled or forced, but Jezebels sisters stayed on their feet and they looked at her with defiance.
“A promise is not a daughter,” Zelphia crowed.
Jezebel laughed and the snakes turned into colourful butterflies what flew out the windows.
“I might now have the ultimate power, yet, but I’m still the sixth daughter of the sixth daughter and I am stronger than you, and still stronger than Zelphia,” she reminded them.
Talora pouted and put her hands back in her pockets without trying to throw the spell that she had prepared. Mehalia grasper for air as if she was about to speak but she said nothing. Behira had fury and lightning in her eyes and she stepped up to face Jezebel.
“I curse…” she cried at the top of her lungs, “I curse… I curse…”
“Yes?” Jezebel asked with an amused smile.
“I curse… I curse… I curse…” Behira cried louder and louder but she was unable to finish her curse.
Wiley watched it all, unable to speak or move. “Witches,” he thought. “The old man was right.” Or was he still hallucinating because of the heat stroke? There was no way of telling what was real or not.
Jezebel stopped Behira by putting a fruit in her mouth, “One of you have something that rightfully belongs to me.” She let them know. “Where is he?”
All witches and lesser witches moved away from her in one sweeping movement.
“Who took him?” Jezebel asked with a demanding voice. “Who betrayed me first?”
“It was Huetta!” Bethiah squeaked, “She took him!”
Jezebel turned to Huetta, “Is this true?”
“No!” Huetta whispered with fear in her voice.
“It’s true; it’s her who took him!” Bethiah insisted. “Ask her about the car!” She said with a vindictive smile. “Ask her where she got it!”
“Huetta LaVelle!” Jezebel called. “Come here and tell me about it.”
Huetta crawled across the floor, moaning and groaning, on arms and legs that trembled from fear, “I got him,” she whimpered, “I got him.”
“And the Chevy?”
“It’s his,” Huetta moaned.
Wiley tired to understand what was happening, and he wished that he could move and pinch himself to feel reality for a moment.
“I told you so!” Bethiah jumped around in excitement. “I told you!”
“Yes, you did,” Jezebel turned to her. “And when did you plan on telling me about the man staying in your guesthouse?”
Bethiah looked ad Jezebel in horror and then she backed into a corner.
“Give him to me Huetta,” Jezebel demanded.
Huetta moved, called her minions and ordered them to get her prisoner. Jezebel sat down beside Wiley, put her arm around him and snapped her fingers.
“Your brother will be here soon,” she told him. “I promised to find him didn’t I?”
Wiley found that he could move again, he moved away from her and asked, “What are you?”
“I am your friend Wiley Walker, I’m the one that promised to find your brother,” she smiled at him softly and touched his shoulder.
“What are they?” he looked at her and pointed out into the room.
“Who?” she asked and looked where he was pointing.
He turned to look around and found that the room was empty. The only thing moving was the curtains that danced in the cool wind and the raindrops that blew in through the window. The women or witches that had crowded the room was all gone and there was no sign of them ever being there.
There was a knock at the door and Jez left him to go to open it, he could hear her talk someone for a while and then she came back up the stairs.
“And here he is,” she smiled at him, “the lost brother.”
Wiley could not believe his eyes, Trent stood right there beside her, thinner and older, but still the same old Trent. He got up and hugged his brother, laughing with joy, he was real, and it was true.
Chapter 17
Wiley and Trent stayed another night as guests of Jez and they talked about what had happened and what the heat had done. Trent told them all about how he had worked up in the mountains, unaware that his brother was looking for him. He had been unable to call as he had promised but he had sent several letters, to explain the situation, letters that had never arrived in Wiley’s mailbox. Jez had dropped hints and comments about the heat until Wiley had caved in and told Trent about his heat stroke and the hallucinations he had experienced. They had all laughed about it and Trent had promised not to tell Anabelle about it even though it was tempting.
The air was cool and the nature was filled with greens and flowers the day that Wiley and Trent left Alruna to drive back to the city. Trent had decided that he wanted to stay with Wiley’s family for a while and Wiley had welcomed the idea, they had spent too little time together lately. Jez had bought Trent’s car and that gave him extra cash to spend on a “vacation” as he called it, besides he had no wheels to roll him down the road anymore.
***
Trent had left after a month, he was too restless to stay at any place for much longer, and Wiley had started to feel restless too after he had gone, it was as if there was something calling for him, something he had to do. He had talked to Trent about it when he called on the phone and Trent had told him to stay at home, to stay where he belonged. Most of all he urged him to never go back to Alruna, in a joking but serious way.
***
It was winter when the restlessness over powered him and he could not resist it any longer. He had arranged to work out of town in early December to try to conquer it and it had helped, but then he made an unplanned right turn as he was driving home again. The poorly maintained road took him down into the valley, past the sign that told him; “..run.” and through the dark and sleepy village. He knew where he was going; he knew that he had made a promise and that he had to honour it. She had promised to find his bother and she had honoured that promise.
Jez opened the door before he knocked and the scent of apples and good memories engulfed him. The full moon made the snow in the night shimmer like tinsel and silver and her laughter filled him with immense joy. She said nothing, neither did he; words were not necessary because they both knew. What happens in Alruna stays in Alruna. Jez danced though the house whiles fetching tea to fill him with heat in the cold winter and yellow fruits that had a scent of apples and she was singing all along.
I've got a Mandrake Root
It's some thunder in my brain
I feed it to my babe
He thunders just the same
Food of love sets him a flame
I’ve got the power baby…
I've got the Mandrake Root
Baby's just the same
He still feels a quiver
He's still got the flame
He slows down, slows right down
I've got the power…
It's some thunder in my brain
I feed it to my babe
He thunders just the same
Food of love sets him a flame
I’ve got the power baby…
I've got the Mandrake Root
Baby's just the same
He still feels a quiver
He's still got the flame
He slows down, slows right down
I've got the power…
-=-=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-
___________________________________________________________________________
I picked the name Alruna for the village even though I know that I am probably one out of few that can see the connection to the story, so I would like to explain it a bit further. Alruna is Swedish and the origin of the name is “All-“ as in “everything” and “–Runa” as in “secret” so in other words it is “The one who knows all secrets”. It’s also the word used for true mandrake root (Mandragora officinarum) also known as Satan’s Apple, a key ingredient in the story even though it is not mentioned by name until the end. The Mandrake plant is poisonous and it is a plant that is traditionally used by witches and warlocks. It has many different uses and effects depending on what part is used and how. It can be used for pain relief, as a sedative or to cure melancholy, it also causes hallucinations and it is sometimes used as an aphrodisiac. The owner of a mandrake root holds a great power but risks selling his or her soul to the devil, though that is not a problem for someone that has already sold their soul of course.
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