Hush my baby

The house loomed at the back of the neighborhood; watching everyone suspiciously, as the crazed old woman who once lived there had.  Frannie. Oh she wasn't always crazy.  When she was young and had Frederick in her life, she was lovely, happy and fun.  She adored him. Her long brown hair was kept nice and neat for him.  Her green eyes sparkled at the thought of him. She always looked pretty; for him. Had a smile to share and a gentle thing to say to and about him. She worked hard for him (and most everyone) to never notice her bad leg from a childhood accident that left her to limp. No, she wasn't weak or willy-nilly like that. she worked hard to keep a good home and a happy man.  She mooned over him and sought to satisfy his every whim.  She just made the mistake of thinking he felt that way too. 

 Maybe he did when they first got married. Don't most people? That honeymoon phase is a powerful thing.  But then, life happens.  There is stress; jobs are lost and you don't tell.  Children aren't born and you are grateful or are you disappointed? You feel trapped? She couldn't understand or you simply don't give her that much credit? You stop talking, sharing.  There are more angry silences, hurt feelings.  Emotional walls go up with resentment and blame as a thick unbreakable mortar and soon? Before you know it, there are strangers in the very bed where soul mates used to meet.  Poor Frannie.  She never saw it coming.  She never noticed the late nights, the excuses. The attempts to comfort and soothe his troubled, furrowed brow were met with brush offs and shrugs. 

It was an August afternoon; hot and muggy.  People wandered in to town to share the sweaty misery of the weather and be mad at summer's lagging. Frannie was no different.  She stopped in at Pop's Drug Store, so she could just cool off.  He had the soda fountain and she was certain the fans would be buzzing almost as much as those who hovered around them like little bees. She stepped in and smiled, seeing she was right.She wandered over at perused the magazines.  She wanted to catch up on the latest hair styles and make up for her Freddie. He seemed so preoccupied lately. Her mind drifted between the pages as she let the fan's  tiny gasps share her excitement of the fall's new looks.  She barely heard the conversation at the end of the counter. It was only Mabel, the town gossip.  she loved to talk about EVERYONE; the favorite person being herself.  Today was no different.  She was ooo-ing and ahhh-ing over her new love. One of many in this long hot summer, Frannie guessed over the add for an oven that reduced cook time in half. Fabulous.

"... and he loves me. He loves me crazy. Can't wait to see me, makes ALL sorts of excuses to come and visit. Even for the tiniest things.  His stupid little wifey never suspects, too dumb to question I guess. He eats dinner with me and says he works late.  Well, he's been spending a lot of time with me since he lost his job. But he'll find something soon. My man is smart..." 

"..if he really WAS smart, he wouldn't be hovering around your hive." Frannie thought to herself and smiled.

"He's just applied down at the repair shop in Smithville and once he gets accepted there, he'll leave his stupid wifey and we'll be together. He'll be closer to his momma anyway.  She's gonna love me."

Smithville. It caused Frannie to almost fall down. It was where Freddie was from. Frannie teetered a little as the fan giggled in her ear; whispered for her to perk up and listen.  She folded the magazine and stepped up to the counter.  Mabel was still bragging.

"He said he never loved her.  That after she didn't have a baby, he knew he didn't want to be with her.. Must be something wrong with her aside from that stupid old hobble..."  Mabel took another swig of a thick shake Pop had made and laughed.  He spied Frannie first and glanced at the counter with shame. Mabel didn't take the hint. She even went so far as to limp with the shake in her hand and snort. Frannie cleared her throat and peeked down the counter waiting to catch her eye.  Mabel finally saw her and turned as white as the vanilla in her glass. Frannie thought she looked like she was trying to swallow a mouth full of marbles.  Mabel shrugged and tried to regain her composure; daintily sipping from the straw. Frannie gave a small head tilt and walked out.  Silence followed her out.

And Crazy followed her home. She made a wonderful dinner for Fred but he called to say he was working late. She let it sit in the oven uncovered and was glad to see it dry out and char.  He wandered home late. And she caught the whiff of a different soap; or perfume.  It didn't matter anymore. She asked him about his mother...his work... he grew angry and swatted her away carelessly.  Then she asked about Mabel.  He said he loved her and wanted to be with her.  He said she would give him something he never had.  Frannie gripped the kitchen knife and did the same. 

"So just do it. Go in Frannie's old house and bring something out,you daredevil!" I nudged Bill hard in the shoulder after the ghost story. Jon and Tyler sat quietly in the brush, happy to not be part of the challenge.  It was almost ten and we snuck out.  Tonight of all nights. The tenth anniversary of the murder in our tiny town, when Frannie Gilmoure killed her husband in a jealous rage. Well, that was the story since he just just disappeared after that night.  Frannie didn't show herself either.  Most thought he had just run off ~ easier than divorcing OR staying with Mabel who quickly moved on to the next fellah and had a baby ... Frannie watched from the windows as life passed her by.  Her leg got worse and she motored around in a wheel chair, dragging herself.  Groceries were delivered to the door and left.  If anyone dared to knock or visit they were berated angrily and threatened violently. The town let the house disappear behind a vail of weeds and speculation... and stories. The town whispered that the crazy old woman died about five years ago and they hauled her dried up corpse out in a hefty bag. Buried her in the back of the cemetery at the bend of Walton's creek. Unmarked.  No one would go see her anyway.

Bill ran his hands nervously through his hair. 

"Chicken?"

"Shut up."

"Your feathers are showin ~ BOCK BOCK"

"All RIGHT you homo!"

"Swear?"

Bill spit in his hand and held it out for me to take. I grinned, sealed the deal and hunched down next to the other two.  "Okay. So go. Hurry up you pansy. Oh and no flashlight.  don't want the cops to see you.  You know Sheriff Baber will be lookin tonight of all nights."

Bill sighed warily and began the trek to the side steps.  Front porch was out of the question.  We listened to and watched as he disappeared.

"think he's comin out?" Jon whispered.

"I doubt he gets in." I couldn't help but  snigger. "He'll high  tail it and run all the way back to Mama, screamin like a little girl."

"I dunno.  Your mama don't know you're out."

"Mine neither..." we fell silent and waited.

"See him?"

"He's almost there."

The porch groaned under his light step. At ten years old, Bill was handsome and nimble. Like his daddy, Mama always said.  Bill didn' t know. His father wasn't around.  His mom had a lot of "pals" as she liked to say. Most of the town had another few words for it.

He twisted the knob and felt rust grind in its long forgotten throat, but it gave.  He was in.  He was about to see inside a real murder scene. Crazy Frannie's house... He took a deep breath and willed his knees to help him in.  He glanced once more at the tall grass where his friends were surely making fun of him. He thought vaguely of running back around behind them and scaring them all into pissing their pants but he had sworn to do this. 

"Just grab something. anything and get the Hell out of here!" his mind was racing and hissing at him. But then curiosity got hold.  the house smelled sweet and dry.  The furniture was covered neatly.  Bill peeked under the one on the table and discovered a couple of place settings.  Was that food? Was this their last meal? Bill stepped in to the next room. Then the next. he was almost to the back of the house when he heard the creak of the floor board.  Then his imagination told him something had crossed behind him in the doorway. Goosebumps confirmed it.  But he refused to turn around; until it was too late.  it was in the doorway. A small thick shadow.  Bill stared, waiting for his eyes to adjust and show him it was a chair or a raccoon or.. anything other than what it was.  Who it was.

Frannie.

She sat in a wicker back wheelchair. Her once luxurious brown hair so neat was now dry as straw and patchy; scattered with greys and whites.  her eyes that were sparkling with love and mischief were now cloudy, almost gooey.  Her lips looked like shed snake skin.  Bones were skinny but the way she moved within her mobile throne, Bill knew she was quick and strong.  it was as if she was revving up to pounce.  Her bad leg dangled a short distance from the floor but her other tap-tap-tapped on the floor; like anyone waiting for an explanation that could never be accepted.  Her tongue parted her lips as if she were going to speak.  Bill heard a scratch like a cat's tongue.  A raspy whisper; a laugh? He was unsure.

"I'm so very sorry Mrs. Gilmoure." he began.  His eyes darted around looking for another way out.  there was none but passed the small nut job in the wheelchair.  "I didn't know you were home.  I came here on a dare. To bring something out. Prove I was here. Are you a ghost?"

Now there WAS a laugh; hearty and vacant.  She wiped at her eyes and held her belly. She tugged something from her lap; long and not so shiny but Bill knew what it was.

"No ghost boy. Very very real." She fixated her milky stare.  "You're not wanted here.  What's your name you filthy afterbirth?"

Bill was shocked. "Ma'am?"

"NAME!" she rattled and pulled herself quickly through the door within a foot or two of the terrified child. 

"Bill."

"Bill, Bill...what a pill." she smirked and tugged closer.  Her movements were strong though jerky with her one leg.  the chair screamed with dust and age. "Well, step in to my parlor said the spider to the fly..." and she cackled again, wielding the blade to make sure he understood her intent.

"Just let me go Mrs. Gilmoure. It's just me and my mom. She don't even know I'm here. I'll go straight home and never say a word. I swear Mrs. Gilmoure. Just let me pass.  I won't touch or take nothin. and I'll NEVER come back."

"That'd be right boy. Never." She pulled herself closer and stretched to get a bleary view of the intruder.  She cocked her head and puzzled for a moment.  "How old boy?"

"I'm ten and a half."

"Half." she chuffed.

"You and your mama?"

"Yeah."

"WHAT?" she thundered and jabbed at him.

"Yes Ma'am"

She sat back. "Who's your mama?"

"Miss Jeffreys."

The broken old woman in the chair sat up.  A darkness seemed to encircle them. "what?" she whispered. "Jeffreys?"

"Yes Mrs. Gilmoure. Mabel --."

But he didn't get to say the rest.  The old woman flew from her chair with a rusty screech, the knife slicing left and right.  The boy backed up and cried out.  He felt warmth and tearing.  Out of her vehicle, she crawled with a sidewinder'sspeed jabbing, carving and grunting at the little boy always keeping herself between him and the door; safety.  He tripped over a trash bin and fell on his back.  Like a paper towel on a spill she was on him, pining him to the dirty floor.

"MY son. You were to be MY SON. MY gift to MY husband. NOT that whore who says you are hers... You should have been MINE" Each sentence brought a new slice.  Bill stopped hearing her. He remembered his mother's laugh. Her perfume. He said he was sorry. And he was; for sneaking out. He fell asleep under a crimson blanket forever; surrounded by warmth, feeling his mother's arms...

Jon and Tyler and me went to Sheriff Baber on Sunday morning when Bill wasn't at church. We told the whole story.  There was quite a parade  of lights and sirens that morning.  All the way to Crazy Frannie's house.  We lead the way, but were not permitted to enter.  Sheriff Baber did it.  Then he whispered to Deputy Jones to get an ambulance.  No one was meant to see. But I was standin just right.  and there was my friend, my half brother, Bill Jeffreys all cut up and Crazy Frannie was holdin him, cradling him and singin a lullaby. Like he was her baby doll or somethin. Mama would never recover, I can't tell you how many nights she would just sit, holding herself and hum. I would kiss her and tell her to hush. It would be okay, but it just never was.


Sorry this was late, but I really think it's worth it.  I loved it; writing and scaring the holy snot out of myself.  it was a nightmare I had last week after watching, reading and researching some ghost stories.  I know... I should know better by now.  I hope it raised the hair on your arms and made you look back... just once.  Thank you so much for coming over and hanging out. You're so much fun.

Until next time.