Mourning

Beware of Mourning with her hair of frost
and Grief with his eyes of coal
or something precious will be lost
and the ghrybs with eat your soul

In their fourteen years, Mourning and Grief Lovelace rarely had visitors and they prefered it that way. The citizens of Mortierella were a superstitious lot and, as such, the twins’ inferiors. The children yelled insults at the twins because they always dressed in black and they never smiled. The adults had christened them the Doom Twins and believed death followed close behind them. One popular belief held that Grief, with his dark hair and eyes so black they swallowed up everything around him, had leached all the color out of Mourning as they shared their mother’s womb, leaving her with pale hair and eyes that could only be called clear.

The rumors started two months before the twins were born, when their mother decided to name them Grief and Mourning in memory of their father's tragic death. All their lives, Mrs. Lovelace saw any joy the twins found in life as dishonoring to their father. Still, what truly kept the gossip mill rolling was that occasionally people did die or lose a family member after encountering the twins. Like the day, old man Jasper took his fatal fall shortly after barking at Mourning and Grief to get out his way as he wobbled to his house. He had angered the twins but he had angered everyone he passed that day on his slow journey to the hardware store and back home again. Any one of them could have cursed Mr. Jasper. Anyway, what did everyone expect would come from a ninety year old man attempting to fix the leak on his roof?

Despite all the superstitions surrounding the Doom Twins, Mrs. Lovelace’s death brought with it social rituals that could not be ignore and respects had to be paid. Mrs. Lucinda Brown released a shiver as she and Miss Jane Habersham stopped in front of the Lovelace’s home.

“I don’t care who died. This is a terrible idea.” Mrs. Brown attempted to peep into the yard as she spoke but the tall evergreen shrubs block her view. “I have it on good authority that they killed their mother. According to their house maid, they haven’t shown the least bit of distress at their mother’s death. She was present when their governess told them the terrible news and the Doom Twins didn’t react at all. Not one tear or wail or single mope to be seen from either of them. They only stared in that bored way of theirs.”

“That hardly points to murder.”

“Who else could be so unfeeling and heartless than a couple of cold blooded killers?”

Grief chose that moment to call over the hedge. “The cold blooded killers are bored with your conversation.”

Mourning watched from her bench as her brother pace away from the shrubs without any regard for the chaos he created on the other side. “That was a bit rude.”

“They were rude.” Grief leaned against the oak tree that shaded the bench. “Anyway I convinced them go away, didn’t I?”

Mourning felt too relieved the they had left to argue with her brother. Normally, she was immune to such talk but today their words gnawed at her confidence. As she looked up at the window to the bedroom where Mrs. Lovelace's body would rest until the funeral tomorrow with nothing more than a feeling of resignation, she wondered if the superstitious fools had been right all along. "Grief, what if there is something wrong in us?"

Grief studied his sister. "They've not convinced you that we are evil? We did not kill our mother. She died from a build up a fluid around her heart. All that weeping, I suspect."

"I know but Mother died and I don’t feel sad. Neither of us have cried at all.”

Grief pushed out his chest. “Of course I haven’t cried. Anyway why must we feel anything?” He began to pace about the garden. “Mother spent our entire lives in misery and did her best to make us miserable with her. We should feel relieved she’s gone.”

“Grief, she was still our mother.”

He shrugged in response.

Mourning quit the bench and wandered over to the oak. Her ears picked up a rustling in the hedge but her mind was too busy to register it. “Have you ever experienced sorrow? I mean true heartsickness like the stuff of poems or what plagued Mother?”

“I don’t care for poets. I never understand poems. I say they're just a bunch of nonsense. I prefer my National Geographic and my history books. Things you can depend upon.”

Mourning sighed as she twirled a leaf between her fingers. “I can’t remember ever feeling sorrow either. Do you suppose we were pieced together wrong?”

“I don’t know. Do you remember ever feeling happy?”

She dropped the leaf and considered the question. She found a hazy memory of Mother reprimanding her for giggling. She tried to focus on what had made her laugh or how she felt in that moment but she came up empty. “No.”

“I can’t remember it either.” Mourning’s distress must have shown of her face because Grief embraced her. “It’s nothing to worry over. The poets are foolish. Come, let’s go inside and read about ancient cannibals.”

She allowed her brother to lead her towards the house. As the passed, she looked at her mother’s window and resolved to feel something before the woman went into the ground.

 

Once the house settled into its evening sleep, Mourning slipped inside her mother’s room. She tiptoed over to the bed and placed her candle on the table there. She took her time in studying her mother. The maid had brushed out her colorless hair so it fanned around her head like the tail of an albino peacock. Her hands had been placed over her chest in restful pose but her face looked as tormented as ever. Mourning started to take her mother’s hand but the coldness made her recoil.

Desperate to prove to herself that she was not evil, Mourning gave up on thoughts of her mother and focused on the only person who mattered in her life. In her mind’s eye, she saw Grief stretched out before her. His normal pallor turned chalky in death. His hands folded on top of a chest that no longer rose and fell. His dark eyes forever hidden. Mourning fought for breath as a terrible weight settled between her lungs. A sharp pain pierced her heart, making her cry out and her eyes water. She thought she might be drowning.

At the moment, Mrs. Lovelace’s mouth popped open. Mourning's anguish turned to horror and she stumbled backwards, as a brown furred covered paw complete with four inch long curved claws slipped out of her mother's mouth to push against the bottom half of her jaw. An identical paw appeared to shove at the top half. They stretched her mouth open until she reminded Morning of a snake regurgitating its meal. A creature resembling an overgrown hedge hog rose out of her mother. The roly-poly monster was roughly a foot and a half tall with soil and leaves matting its spikes. Its swollen belly and face was bald and matched the inflamed pink color of a skin infection. It planted its feet on Mrs. Lovelace's face and shook saliva off itself. Then it fixed its greedy black eyes upon Mourning and they gleamed with hunger. She screamed with all the breath in her, which seemed to puzzle the creature.

Then the door slammed open and Grief spilled into the room. "What is it? What's wrong?" Mourning pointed a trembling hand at the bed. Grief mumbled an ungentlemanly phrase as the twins ran towards each other. They stood together in the middle of the room watching the creature as it appraised them from its spot on Mrs. Lovelace's face.

Finally, the creature spoke. Its words came out in a garbled growl but they were words the twins knew. "How can you see me?"

Since the twins did not know what they saw nor whether or not they should have the ability to see it, they didn't bother to respond. Instead, Grief grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace, pointed it at the thing and ordered, "Get out of here, demon!"

The creature chuckled but hopped over to the window. It moved with a shocking spryness for something so round. Perched on the window sill, it grinned a mouthful of pointed yellow teeth their way. "I'll be back soon," it promised and then disappeared.



Mourning fought the urge to rest her eyes as she stood next to Grief in the cemetery. They spent all night awaiting the creature's return. It never showed and the preacher's voice lulled her mind into a restive state. She glanced across her mother's casket at the handful of mourners on the other side. Those brave souls whose sense of duty outweighed their fear of the twins. She knew that they watched her. If she fell asleep, the whole town would have heard of it by dusk.

Mourning let her eyes travel the cemetery in search of something stimulating. They alighted on a young woman wandering amongst the headstones. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Mourning took a moment to appreciate such a gentle display of sorrow, when she noticed a much smaller version of last night's nightmare skipping from headstone to headstone in pursuit of the woman. Mourning squeezed Grief's hand and tilted her head in the widow's direction. They watched as the creature launched itself at the woman's back. Its sloth-like claws allowed it to cling to the woman. It pressed itself against her so that it looked as if the widow had a huge spiky mole growing from her back. Then the creature vanished and the woman's tears changed into wails.

Mourning and Grief turned to each other with mirroring looks of panic. Over Grief's shoulder, she noticed three more of the creatures tripping towards them. Before she could warn Grief, he turned Mourning around to show her the five approaching from that side. She looked to the preacher and the mourners and spotted at least twelve creatures creeping up behind them. The creatures surrounded them but no one seemed to notice except her and Grief.

Not sure what else to do, Mourning began screaming, "Run! Run! They are coming! Run!"

 

The adults scanned the area but they looked past the terrors hiding in their shadows. The mourners began to whisper, as the preacher attempted to soothe Mourning with phrases like "over-wrought" and "too much for a fragile young girl." Meanwhile, the creatures grew ever closer. She reached for Grief’s hand but he didn’t notice and shifted away from her.

"This will be your last day breathing if you do not leave this instant." Grief spoke with a calmness that demanded attention and everyone fell silent. "The Doom Twins don't want you here. You know we have the power to curse you all to an early grave so leave now or suffer our wrath." His words had the desired effect and the adults tripped over themselves in their rush out of the cemetery.

The twin found themselves alone in the cemetery, except for the few hundred creatures pressing in on them from all sides. None of monsters exceeded a foot and they shared the same greedy gleam in their eyes. The larger creature from last night appeared on their mother's casket. "Hello again, dearies.”

“What are you?” Grief demanded.

“We are the ghrybs.” The giant ghryb spoke and the others repeated grunts of ghrybs.

"If you are thinking of eating us, we won't make a filling meal." The ghrybs met Mourning's attempt at bravery with a hearty round of laughter.

"We don't feed of human flesh. Anyway, we come as friends." The other ghrybs grumbled friends.

"What do you want from us?" Grief kept a firm grip on Mourning's hand as he spoke.

"We only want to help you to reach your potential. You are special children with special powers." This time special echoed around them. "Come with us."

Mourning shared a bewildered glance with Grief and asked, "What if we refuse?"

The giant ghryb's eyes glowed red. "You must come."

"You can have me. I will go with you but my sister has to stay."

"No, we must have both of you." It snarled and lunged for them. The twins tried to run but scores of claws had already wrapped around their calves and ankles. It caught their wrists on its descent from the casket and began tugging them. "You will come with us or we will take you."

"Take you," garbled the chorus. The claws on their legs pushed and pulled until Grief and Mourning started walking against their own wills.

The oversized ghryb led the way to the oldest crypt in the cemetery. He opened the doors and they all entered. As the last ghryb slipped in, the doors shut and darkness swallowed up the twins along with any goodness in them.



A few years later, Mrs. Brown pushed a baby carriage down the street to her home. Her visit with Mrs. Jane Hall had lasted longer than she had intended and most of the townsfolk were tucked inside their homes. Halfway home, her darling boy began crying so she stopped to settle him. When she turned to start walking again, two figures stood before her. The young woman had hair so fair it glowed and the young man had eyes like bottomless pits.

“How pleasant to see you again, Mrs. Brown.” The man said with a cordial nod. “It’s been far too long.”

The woman leaned over carriage. “What a handsome babe,” she cooed and stroke the boy’s cheek. He started crying again.

“We need to be going,” Mrs. Brown explained and hurried down the road but she could not outrun the illness already spreading throughout the baby.

Grief and Mourning shared a grin that was echoed in the faces of the ghrybs hanging off them as one jumped off Grief’s shoulder to follow after Mrs. Brown.

Slow Dancing with Jesus

I have always gone through cycles where I am content with my single status for a period and then completely miserable in it for a period.  When I say "for a period," I mean a few days.  In all honesty, this is a day of discontent. 

My reason has a store of arguments for why I should embrace my singleness.  There's the feminist that says I don't need a man to give my life meaning and, even if I spend my life as a single woman, I can still have a full successful life.  There's the optimist who shouts that my life is already brimming with love and joy so I have nothing to complain about.  The pessimist grumbles that I'm never going to find someone so I should get used to being alone now.  The jaded claims that men only want to use me and leave me so I'm safer on my own.  The selfish whines that a relationship means sharing my time and energy and decisions with someone else.  The pragmatist recognizes that, if I want to do NaNoWriMo properly, then I won't have any time to invest in a new relationship until December.  The pious warns against rushing into something that is not from God and reminds me that everything has a season.  The faithful urges me to hold tight to promise that God has chosen someone for me and wait. 

Still, the heart wants what the heart wants so it doesn't bend to any of these arguments.  I only know that I'm sick of loneliness and disappointment.  I am impatient for a change so I remain discontented.

Then there a moments like worship this Sunday morning.  I closed my eyes as I sang to Yeshua and I felt his arms wrap around me.  Just like that, it was only the two of us.  We swayed to the music as I buried my face against his chest.  He whispered verses from Song of Solomon to me and I knew that I was someone beautiful and precious and desirable.  I knew I was someone worth dying for.  My fairy tale had already come true.  Nothing else mattered, no other relationship mattered under the truth that I belong to my Jesus and my Jesus belongs to me. 

It's a shame how quickly I let go of these moments.  I allow the world to come crowding in and the memory slips away.  I keep playing with the idea of getting "Yeshua" tattooed on the ring finger of my left hand as a constant reminder that's it's a passionate, romantic, all consuming love my Jesus has for me.  That truth is all I'll ever need.       

The Next Big Thing - Blog Tag

The lovely author Karen Heard tagged me in the "Next Big Thing" so it's my turn to answer ten questions about my work in progress.  You can find her answers about her WIP, Qualia, here http://www.misheardfiction.com/the-next-big-thing-blog-tag/.  The tag began as a promotional blog at SheWrites.com.

Let's jump in . . .

 Ten Interview Questions for The Next Big Things:

What is the working title of your book?

By Any Other Name (at least that's what I'm going with at this moment)

Where did the idea come from for the book?

My sister researched our family tree and discovered that one of our ancestors lost her husband while she was pregnant so she named their twins Grief and Mourning.  I immediately began to imagine what kind of life children named Grief and Mourning would have and then I got carried away.

What genre does your book fall under?

Mock Gothic young adult

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

This one's difficult because my characters are fourteen and odd looking, not your typical adorable and precocious Hollywood kids.  I think I have to pass but I'll let you know if something comes to me.

What is your one-sentence synopsis of your book?

 Mourning and Grief never knew joy or sorrow until the day a ghryb crawled out of their mother's corpse and changed their lives forever.

Will you book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Not sure but I will probably do the rejection circuit before self-publishing.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I haven't written the first draft, yet.  I intend to work on it for National Novel Writing Month so hopefully it will take me thirty days.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I would say it has a similar absurd humor to Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events.  A friend said it reminded her of Jane Austen's Juvenilia, which I take as the highest compliment and a complete lie.  

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

I had been playing with these characters when a friend mentioned that she would love to illustrate a children's book.  I settled on a young adult novel but I do my best to give her interesting things to draw. 

When I began to outline the story, I realized that I had a religious allegory staring me in the face.  This must have come straight from God because I can never plan out symbolism or allegories without it being cheesy and forced but this one I stumbled into and it fits effortlessly in the story.

What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

While this story is fictional and has lots of fantastical elements, the underlying message reflects my own struggle with depression after my father died and how Jesus pulled me out of that deep dark pit I dug for myself. 

I wrote a scary short story for 13 Stories 'til Halloween, using my ideas and characters for this narrative, that will be incorporate into the first chapter of my novel.  If you want to get a peak at the twins or are simply wondering what is a ghryb, you can find out here:  http://13storiestilhalloween.wordpress.com/2012/10/22/mourning/

I promise to keep you updated on my progress and share excerpts of the developing story.

~ Moxley

Jordan Drew,
Lucy,
Lynn Blackmar,
PM Kester
tag you're it!

I have one more person that I'm waiting to hear from so I can tag.  I also have one more open spot so if you want to participate, just let me know.

Dreams coming true

I have a terrible habit of letting my fear of failure and my perfectionism keep from even trying.  As a result, I went all summer without writing and felt pretty wretched about it.  I thought I would always hold myself back from the thing I wanted most.  

During the summer, I also began to draw nearer to Jesus.  It's been a gradual but steady change.  It started with attending a city group (think home group/small group/Bible study) every other week.  Then it grew to regular church and city group attendance.  Next a job fell into my lap and brought with it long prayer sessions, daily Bible readings, and my city group becoming my family.  All of this happened outside of myself.  It had to be the work of the Holy Spirit because I could never be so disciplined or motivating to make these changes out of my own will.  

This Autumn, God has moved me from blocking His will in my life.  A story started to form in my mind, a young adult mock-Gothic religious allegory.  The religious allegory part surprised me the most because I always stumble into symbolism and I had to play with the story for awhile to realize an allegory stared me in the face.  It remained an idea I only toyed with in my mind until Jordan Drew asked me to contribute to 13 Stories 'Til Halloween a blog counting down to Halloween with a new story everyday.  I took my ideas for the first chapter of the novel a turned them into a creepy short story, which I am a bit of a proud mama over.  They haven't posted my story yet but the three already up are deliciously chilling so you should check them out.

To stay motivated, I decided to participate in NaNoWriMo for the first time.  The goal of writing 50,000 word in 30 days is extremely intimidating.  Still, if I am ever going to write a novel, it has to be now and it's going to take lots of support.

Finally, a twitter friend, Karen Heard, blog tagged me to answer ten questions about my work in progress.  I will do mine on the young adult novel and it will be appearing this week.  

All these opportunities that God has given me make me feel like a true writer for the first time.  It's like Moxley Bugg the author has been born and I'm exciting to see how she develops.  I will work harder to keep you updated on my progress and give you sneak peeks at my work.  So keep reading cause big things are coming.                      

I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee

I have been a college graduate for three months now and I still haven't figured out what happens next.  My life is in limbo.  

I finally found a job at the end of July.  It has nothing to do with my English-Creative Writing degree and it's not very stimulating or challenging but it pays the bills and the company I work for is wonder so I am grateful.  Still, the job is only temporary.  I don't have a date for when the job ends and I don't have a plan for what I will do when it's over.  

My apartment lease ends at the beginning of September.  My roommate and I agree that it would be best for our friendship if we no longer lived together.  She has an apartment waiting on her.  Due to just getting a job, I don't have any money saved to put down on a place to live.  There are tentative plans to move in with some friends but I would only be living with them until December and then I don't know where I am going.  

I had a guy I was seeing for a few months but in June that relationship dissolved.  I am currently unhappy with my situation and I zeroed in on the guy-less part of it as the solution but honestly I think I just need some certainty in my life.  I need a direction.  Still, I recognize this living in limbo is of my own making.  I kept finding temporary solutions because I am reluctant to make a definite decision.  

You see I had these grand dreams.  I went to college to become a published novelist.  Last year, I wrote out a plan for moving to England after I graduated.  I thought at this point in my life I would  at least be working for a magazine or publishing house.  Also, there was the shallower,  arguably un-feministic dream that I would find the love of my life at my University (I took enough classes dealing with feminist theory to be embarrassed by this admission).  Those were my dreams for my life after college.  In reality, I am still living in Atlanta, still single, and I work at an accounting firm.  So now, I avoid committing to a decision until I can figure out how to turn my current reality into those dreams I had.

Sorry for the bizarre format.  It's been so long since I posted that blogger changed up the game on me and I don't have time right now to learn the new rules.  Hopefully, I figure it out soon.  Also I try to stick to only posting creative writing exercises but it's been so long since I posted anything, I decided to let myself slide this time.

The Pillar

I was experiment with a few things when I first drafted this story. This my first attempt at writing in the third person omniscient point of view, setting my story in a real location, and having such a large cast of characters. I have to say I'm proud of what I created. Still, this is not a perfect draft there are errors that I will fix. Special note to all my Augusta readers, I realize it list of stops on the tour are not geographically feasible, specifically walking from the James Brown statue to the Augusta Canal and then to the cursed pillar. It will be changed. I promise. So slow your roll. Also, the names of the characters do not reflect real life people. When I write about the people in my life, I always change their names. Otherwise I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing. Can you guess my favorite character (s)?

The Pillar

It wasn’t everyday that the patrons of downtown Augusta saw a fully uniformed confederate soldier standing in front of the James Brown statue. Only Fridays and Saturdays after dusk, given good weather. When Thaddeus first appeared, the regulars who populated the bars and restaurants paid little attention to him because they assumed he was just a passing apparition. No one imagined that Thaddeus and his haunted tour would get a steady stream of customers. Augusta had not figured out how to set a tourist trap. The first week of April always brought droves of out-of-towners for the Master’s tournament but the golf fans weren’t particularly interested in ghosts. The regulars were right about the steady stream. The best Thaddeus could hope for were trickles, but they had underestimated his commitment. He had been returning to his post every fair weather weekend for over a year. Long enough for the regulars to accept Thaddeus into their circle. It started with the drunks heckling him. Then the more sober patrons talked the drunks into taking bets each night on how many fools would show up for the tours. The heckling and the gambling convinced the rest of the regulars that there must be something interesting about what kind of people paid for these tours. It only took three months for that confederate soldier to become the highlight of their weekend, but it wasn’t until Thaddeus sweated out a summer in that itchy, wool costume that he earned the downtown inhabitants’ respect and compassion.

As he leaned against James Brown, Thaddeus thanked October for both the cooling temperature and the growing clientele. With Halloween approaching, more people embraced the opportunity to be scared. When he began this venture, it had been a labor of love. He had a B.A. in History but drama had always been his true passion and he had figured that running his own ghost tour would be the perfect combination of the two. Still, the months of low turnouts and skeptic listeners had taken their toll and the fact that he hadn’t yet earned enough to quit frying chicken at Wife Saver’s restaurant didn‘t help his morale. He had even stooped to fudging the details to encourage bigger audiences and satisfy the skeptics. It wasn’t his fault that people wanted proof that they could see with their own eyes or sensational tales to keep them up at night so he had added a bit of dramatic flare to the legends and crafted props to pass off as evidence. He found it disheartening that his clientele embraced the sham easier than they accepted the legitimate tales. Thankfully, people were more eager to believe around Halloween. The October groups gave Thaddeus the strength he needed to make it through the rest of the year.

Thaddeus straightened up his stance as dusk neared. He had a role to play and it wouldn’t do for a soldier to be caught slouching. He tugged at the bottom of his gray jacket and checked that none of the brass buttons were askew. For the millionth time, Thaddeus sighed at his empty bayonet scabbard. He promised himself that he would buy a Civil War bayonet with the money he earned this month. But he pushed these thoughts aside as the first customer drew near.

Lydia didn’t mind that none of her friends wanted to go on the haunted tour with her. It allowed her to arrive early and they would have distracted her from her purpose. Her friends didn’t understand her fascination with Augusta’s legends and ghost stories. She approached the tall tour guide with the hope of finding someone who shared her passion. He smiled warmly and tipped his hat with a “Good evening, ma’am.” Lydia tried to be as friendly in her response, as she wondered how scripted his greeting might be and debated whether the feminist in her should be offended by the “ma’am” or not. She decided to play nice for the moment and exchanged pleasantries as she studied him. His face was round with large hazel eyes and a generous helping of freckles. With his slender build and baby face, Lydia figured he wouldn’t have lasted a month in the actual Civil War.

“I’m a student at Augusta State. I’ve spent my whole life here,” Lydia responded to Thaddeus’s inquiry. Then she raised one thin black eyebrow. “Why don’t you have a bayonet?”

Thaddeus dropped his warm demeanor. “It was destroyed in battle.” Then he turned to welcome a new trio joining the group, ending his conversation with Lydia. She smirked behind his back. Forget a month. He wouldn’t have lasted a week!

The three brothers raced to the statue. At 17, Keondre usually refused to participate in such a kiddish game but he couldn’t let his little brothers think they were faster than him. With his long legs, they never had a chance. He turned away from James Brown to gloat at his brothers, who immediately stopped and tried to pretend they weren’t involved in the game.

“You babies are such sore losers.”

“We didn’t lose!!” K.J., the youngest, bristled over being called a baby and a loser. Keshaun, also bristling, jump into the argument. “Yeah, we weren’t playing your stupid game. ‘Race you to the statue’ is lame.”

“It was K.J.’s idea in the first place!!!” Keondre straightened to his full height so he could tower over his brothers. Being only eleven, K.J. wasn’t immune to Keondre’s intimidation tactic so he ease behind Keshaun, who wasn‘t so easily cowed. He might not be as tall as Keondre but he had more muscle than his scrawny limbed big brother.

“Y’all here for the ghost tour?” Thaddeus had witnessed the tensions building between the three boys and hoped defuse the situation before it broke out in violence.

“Yes.” Keondre answered without taking his eyes off of Keshaun but K.J. was immediately distracted by the uniformed soldier talking to them. He ran to Thaddeus with a million questions flying from his mouth. Keshaun glanced toward K.J.’s excitement and noticed the brunette honey standing all alone behind the soldier. Forgetting all about the fight, he went to introduce himself and keep her company. “Hey, sweet thang. You’re too pretty to be left on the sidelines.” Full of frustration, Keondre leaned against the statue and sulked.

Three Marines arrived as the brothers dispersed. It was pay day at Fort Gordon and they needed to kill time until the bars came alive. Jesus had suggested that a ghost tour might be entertaining and Jay and Ben hadn’t come up with a better idea so they called a cab and headed downtown. The trio stationed themselves near the young woman and the kid, enjoying her stunned look as the kid continued to drop pick up lines.

“If we only get to have one woman in the group, at least she’s cute.” Jay spoke lowly so only Ben and Jesus would hear.

“Here comes the real eye candy.” Ben motioned to the blond-haired goddess, walking toward the costumed soldier with two guys trailing behind her.

Tiffany turned around and grabbed Pete’s hand. “Hurry up, slow pokes,” she teased, smiling at him and his older brother, Lenny. Pete laughed at her silliness but Lenny shook his head in disgust. Tiffany looked away from Lenny, trying to keep her smile from falling. Pete slipped his arm around her waist and kissed the side of her forehead. Tiffany’s smile became a little more genuine. She needed tonight to go well so it would smooth over any bruised feelings left over from her fight with Lenny yesterday. She was still embarrassed by her behavior. Not that she regretted defending herself and her family but her mother always told her that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar and shrieking like a banshee wasn’t attractive in anyone. She wanted Lenny to accept her so desperately that she had been nothing but sweet Georgia honey no matter how ugly Lenny treated her until last night when he insulted her family. Tiffany stomped down the anger creeping up inside her as she thought about last night. Resentment wasn’t going to help her relationship with Lenny so she forced her thoughts on the present and offered a bright smile to the confederate soldier. Tiffany silently prayed that a miracle would happen tonight and Lenny would realize what a wonderful person she was or at least that he would hate her a little less.

After collecting everyone’s payment, Thaddeus led the group over the cracked and uneven pavement toward the Springfield Baptist Church. He was pleased with the group as a whole. Ten clients was a respectable number, though he could have done without the know-it-all college student. Still, everyone else seemed to be getting into the spirit of the tour.

Keondre, Keshaun and K.J. were the most enthused. The older boys delighted in scaring K.J. at every opportunity, while K.J. denied any sign that he was frightened. To escape his brothers, K.J. walked next to Thaddeus and launched even more questions at him about ghosts and the life of a soldier. Since he could no longer torment K.J, Keshaun decided to flirt. He decided to try his charms on Tiffany. He might only be 14 but he already had a reputation as a player at his high school and he certainly was not going to limit himself to just Lydia.

“Hey, hot mama, where you been all my life?” He waited for Tiffany to melt, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist his golden brown eyes.

Tiffany put on her pageant smile, which was her go to response whenever she was at a lost for the correct answer, and hoped the words would come to her when Pete rescued her from the awkward moment. Laughing, he held up her left hand so Keshaun could see the engagement ring. “Sorry, Romeo. This one’s taken.” Then he kissed her.

Keshaun didn’t doubt that he could steal Tiffany away from Pete but he decided to leave them alone and pursue Lydia. He knew she probably heard him chatting up Tiffany but he figured she would be thankful that he came back to her. “Sweetness, if you’re scared, you can hold on to me,” He flashed his lady-killer smile.

“You’re cute but it’s illegal for 20 year olds to ‘hold on to’ 14 year olds.”

“That’s only if people find out.” His persistence left Lydia speechless as she scrambled for a way to let him down gently. The three Marines laughed at her predicament. The tour was just starting and they were already entertained by the teenage Casanova chasing after Tiffany and Lydia.

As the group stopped in front of the church, K.J. continued to question Thaddeus. “Is that a gun holder?”

“It’s for a bayonet.”

“What’s a bayonet?”

“It’s a blade that goes on the end of a rifle.”

“Cool. Where’s your bayonet and rifle?”

“I left it at home.” Thaddeus flushed when he realized that the rest of the group had overheard. Several of them snickered, including Lydia and the Marines. Thaddeus took a composing breath and jumped into the telling of Springfield Baptist Church‘s history. “The church was founded in 1787 and had survived the Civil War and the Great Fire of 1916, so it made the perfect home for a ghost or two.” He knew he had the group captivated as he began to list the evidence that spirits continued to inhabit the building: unexplainable sounds, objects moving on their own, and strange voices.

“This picture was taken a year ago.” Thaddeus held out a photo of the church with bright circles floating in front of it. “Those glowing circles, called orbs, are ghosts.”

“That’s just light reflecting off dust,” said Lenny, the businessman from New York City. He had been dragged on this tour by Pete and Tiffany. The ghost tour was Tiffany’s idea and Lenny wanted to prove that it was a foolish one. The only reason he had taken a long weekend and flown down to this hick town was to keep Pete from marrying the gold digging queen of the trailer park. Lenny was certain that Pete had been thinking with his dick when he proposed to the blond-haired, blue-eyed, big-breasted Tiffany. There was no other explanation for Pete to leave his family and career behind to settle down in Augusta and marry that bimbo. Lenny refused to allow Pete to throw all his potential away for a good lay. Still, Pete could be stubborn, so Lenny strong evidence that Tiffany was a shallow, money hungry moron.

“No, it’s definitely orbs,” Thaddeus explained, when Lydia snatched the photo out of his hands. She sighed in disappointment. Despite Thaddeus’s incomplete uniform, Lydia had carried high hopes for this evening. Since he chose this profession, he should have loved the quirkier side of Augusta’s heritage and felt the same passion to preserve it that burned in her. Then, why did he have fake proof? It had to be out of laziness or ignorance. Either way, it was irresponsible because such fraud held the potential for making skeptics out of believers. She couldn’t let his hoax continue.

“Nope, it’s definitely dust. Orbs would be brighter and there wouldn’t be so many. You should know better.”

Thaddeus gritted his teeth. Of course, he knew it was only dust. The picture was one of his props. He would have shown them a photo of real orbs, if he had one, but the spirits seemed to be camera shy so he presented the dust particles as orbs and everyone was happy until this group came along.

“All orbs are simply dust or debris in that air.” Lenny smirked at Lydia. “And a building that old must be full of vermin, which make all the strange noises.”

His words sadden Lydia and she blamed Thaddeus with his fake orbs for Lenny’s disbelief.
Thaddeus was mortified and pissed. What happened to his scare-easy full-of-faith Halloween group? He considered ending the tour right there but then he spied the hope and curiosity in K.J.’s eyes. Someone believed in him so Thaddeus would persevere. “Let’s move along.”

He continued the route, hitting the Augusta Canal, the Confederate Powderworks Chimney, and the boyhood home of President Woodrow Wilson along the way. Each stop brought more of Lydia’s critique and Lenny’s cynicism. While K.J. remained engrossed in every tale, the older boys much have picked up on the tensions created by Lenny and Lydia because Keondre and Keshawn came to blows before the whole group could gather around Thaddeus in front of the old Medical College of Georgia. Two of the Marines, Jesus and Ben, pulled the boys apart. Jesus dragged Keondre to one side of the group, while Ben led Keshawn to the opposite side. “Cool down and listen to the story.” Thaddeus took Ben’s order as his cue to start.

“This was the original Medical College of Georgia building. A man named Grandison Harris had the duty of providing the students with cadavers. Most of students knew him as the Resurrection Man because he stole the bodies from Cedar Grove Cemetery. After the students finished practicing on a corpse, the Resurrection Man would dump it in the basement of the school.”

Jesus nudged Keondre and made him start, which Keondre tried to cover up with a stretch. Jesus smirked but didn’t comment on Keondre’s behavior. “K.J. is completely sucked into the story,” Jesus pointed out in a whisper. He nodded his head toward the youngest brother, who stood at the front of the group with his mouth gaping open and his eyes glued to Thaddeus.
Keondre grinned so wide all this teeth showed. “Yeah, K.J. eats this stuff up. He gave up on Santa years ago but he still believes in ghost.”

“And you don’t?” Jesus teased.

Keondre shrugged, “Do you?”

“I don’t know. Every place that I have been stationed has come with its own set of ghost stories. So many people believe in them, who am I to say any different?”

Lenny chose that moment to interrupt the story with his arguments against everything Thaddeus had said.

“That guy definitely isn’t a believer,” Keondre whispered.

“That guy’s an idiot.” Keondre started to laugh but stopped when he saw how closely K.J. listened to Lenny. Jesus noticed it, too. “Why don’t you go distract K.J., while I try to get the idiot to shut up?” Keondre headed straight for K.J.

Jesus glared at Lenny. The guy was such a prick he probably spent his free time telling kindergarteners that the tooth fairy didn’t exist. Jesus knew that the ghost stories were a bunch of bullshit but he had seen enough of the world to realize that you didn’t shit on other people’s beliefs. Sick of Lenny’s mouth, he spoke up, “Look, I don’t want to spend my whole night on this tour so let’s move along.” Ben and Jay had reached their limit with Lenny so they took Jesus’s suggestion as an order and began to head in the general direction down Broad Street that the route had taken. Thaddeus rushed to take the lead and the rest of the group had no choice but to follow.

As they approached the Augusta Chronicle Building, Thaddeus announced that it was the second to the last stop. “Thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus,” Tiffany mumbled under her breath. Pete squeezed her hand, letting her know that he had heard her. “I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, half explaining and half apologizing.

“You shouldn’t have to take any of it. Lenny is acting like an ass.” Tiffany didn’t voice her agreement but she felt it. This night had turned out to be a complete failure. Instead of getting Lenny to like her, Lenny was making her hate him. She cringed over the word hate but she couldn’t feel any other way towards someone who kept attacking the things she held dear. Last night it was her family and tonight it was her hometown. She didn’t want to think about what Lenny would go after tomorrow night. Plus, the way he insisted on publicly arguing with Thaddeus made her mortified to be connected to him. She was going to have to apologize to the tour guide for bringing Lenny. So yeah, Tiffany definitely hated her future brother-in-law but she couldn’t let Pete know. She would not be accused of causing problems between the two brothers, so she kept her mouth closed and hoped she could make it to the end of the tour without giving Lenny a piece of her mind.

Pete wrapped his arms around Tiffany as Thaddeus began to talk about a ghost named Isabella. Pete tried to focus on the story but he was too pissed at his brother to concentrate. He had looked forward to the ghost tour. Tiffany had gotten him to fall in love with her home town almost as hard as he had fallen for her and he enjoyed uncovering the town’s and Tiffany’s quirky little secrets. He should love every moment of the tour but Lenny ruined it. Pete was an intelligent guy and he knew his brother well so he had a good idea why Lenny kept acting like an ass. By choosing to start a life with Tiffany in Augusta, Pete refused to follow the plan his family had charted for him. Lenny and the rest of their family expected Pete to become a partner at a major law firm, marry some Ivy League heiress, and have a New York style happily ever after. Instead, Pete found Tiffany, the beauty queen who wanted to save the world or at least her little slice of it. She taught him what it meant to have a home and he couldn’t imagine ever leaving her or Augusta. All of Lenny’s efforts to drive the couple apart only succeeded in pushing Pete away from his brother.

As the group moved on the final stop, Lenny decided he needed to something drastic. He had managed to shoot down the tour guide time and again, but he couldn’t get a response out of Tiffany. It would be easier to prove to his brother that Tiffany was a superstitious fool if she would argue with him. He had to get a reaction out of her. Lenny overheard her whispering to
Pete, “Oh, the Cursed Pillar. It’s the one I told you about. Remember?”

Pete laughed at her excitement. “The one that will kill you, if you touch it?”

“Yep.” Lenny knew what he needed to do.

Relief flooded Thaddeus, the worse tour night of his career was almost over and he would be able to escape from Lenny and Lydia. The group gathered around the pillar, while he paced between them and it. “This pillar used to be part of a large farmer’s market, which stood from 1830-1878. Farmers traded all kinds of goods here: cotton, tobacco, livestock . . . and slaves. Legend has it that many of the slaves were chained to this very pillar and whipped, until one of the slaves put a curse on the pillar. On February 8, 1878 a tornado blew through town and toppled the entire market, except for this lone pillar. To this day the locals believe that if you touch this pillar, you will immediately be struck dead.”

Thaddeus paused for the group to react. He waited in dread for Lydia to bring up the fact that this wasn’t the original pillar. The first one had been destroyed when a car hit it in 1935, but that fact took away from the magic of the tale.

This time Lydia remained quiet until Lenny spoke up. “That’s a bunch of bull. I’ll touch the pillar and prove it.”

The entire group shouted “No!” There was something about ten voices raised in unison that made even a self-assured man like Lenny pause. Thaddeus took the moment to put himself between Lenny and the pillar, “You really should leave it alone.” He prayed he had enough authority to make Lenny listen. He didn’t want to think about how everyone would react if Lenny touched the pillar and nothing happened or if the impossible happened and Lenny actually died.

“You can’t touch it,” Lydia chimed in and stood next to Thaddeus. She thought he was a completely inept tour guide but she supported Thaddeus in guarding the pillar. They couldn’t allow people to stop believing in the curse.

K.J. stared at Thaddeus and Lenny in wonder and dread. He hoped and feared that Lenny would touch the pillar. Keondre and Keshawn didn’t want to deal with K.J.’s broken heart, if Lenny proved the curse was made up, or K.J.’s horror, if the curse proved true.

The Marines were disgusted by Lenny’s disrespect for the town and his carelessness over the influence his actions had over the three boys. They moved to stand in front of the brothers in an attempt to block their view of the train wreck the tour had become.

“Lenny, please don’t do this.” Tiffany’s big blue eyes welled up with tears. She knew if he disillusioned her and the rest of the group, she would never be able to forgive him.

Pete didn’t think he had ever been so angry at his brother, but he knew fighting with Lenny would only encourage him to touch the pillar. Instead, Pete forced himself to speak in a calm tone as he put his hand on Lenny‘s shoulder, “Yeah, man. Let’s just go home.”
Lenny felt victorious from finally getting Tiffany to react, but it was the urgency in Pete’s eyes that sealed Lenny’s fate. He couldn’t believe that his intelligent, educated brother had bought into this shit. He shrugged off Pete’s hand, stepped around Thaddeus, and placed his hand flat on the cold stone pillar. Everyone stared at him. Not even their breathing interrupted the silence of the moment. As the seconds passed and nothing happened, Lenny removed his hand from the pillar. He threw his arms out wide, embracing his fate, and still nothing happened. He laughed but the rest of the group remained silent. He smirked at them. “See, no curse.”

K.J. looked up at Keondre. “So it wasn’t true?” Keondre could only shake his head as a tiny bit of K.J.’s faith and innocence faded away. Thaddeus felt the waves of anger rolling off the group and he waited for them to turn on him. After all, he had sold them a lie. But everyone’s rage focused on Lenny.

“You had no right,” Tiffany started yelling at him. “You’ve acted like an ass this whole time and I’ve tried to turn the other check but you’ve gone too far this time!” She stormed off before Lenny could respond. He expected Pete to finally understand but he seethed at Lenny. “Your plan failed. You haven‘t broken Tiffany and me apart. You can‘t break us up. But you did manage to ruin mine and your relationship.” He followed after Tiffany.

Lenny watched their retreating forms and then he turned back the rest of the group. They all had violence in their eyes as they stared him down. Lenny kept his mouth shut and wander off back up Broad street in the direction of Pete’s car.

Keondre motioned to his brothers. “Come on, let’s go home.” The three boys headed back up the street. The Marines joined them, doing their best to make the brothers laugh and fix whatever damage Lenny caused.

Thaddeus and Lydia lingered behind.

“Thanks for not mentioning that the pillar is a replica.”

“And make a bigger ass of myself than Lenny! No, I could never. Did you really think I would?”

“Well, you had plenty to say at all the other stops.”

“That was because I wanted you to do your job better. I would have never destroyed the legend like that. The cursed pillar belongs to all of us Augustans. It’s our story, our superstition. Regardless of what an individual person believes, the community believes that the pillar is cursed and so it must be.”

Thaddeus smiled and nodded in agreement. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

They walked back toward the James Brown statue. Lydia couldn‘t stop herself from pointing out, “You know it would make more sense, if the route of the tour made a circle . . .”

Thaddeus groaned. “Not if the stops won’t fall into that circle.”

Revised Joy Formidable

I took my professor's advice and made some changes to the story. Let me know if you like the changes. Also, I changed the font because I was told that the old font was difficult to read. Is the new font better?

Joy Formidable

The walk through the park held all the signs of spring. The birds called to one another. Tiny mammals scurried here and there. The sun shone bright and warm. Insects creeped and crawled amongst the vegetation. Flowers occupied every bit of space and even spilled over onto the cement path. I noted these things but took no delight in them.

I had given up all feelings of joy so that I wouldn’t feel sorrow. Emotions are a package deal that I could no longer stomach. My life dealt in logic, reason, and whatever my senses received. I was numb to everything else.

The last time I felt acute emotion was the night my sister told me that her cancer had returned. Emily’s voice sounded fragile through the phone as she asked me over to her house. We curled up in opposite corners of her stained, scuffed up couch. Emily hugged a pillow as she affirmed all the conclusions I had been trying to avoid in my mind. She was trying to be strong for me and I wanted to be strong for her but the ragged, rusty pain kept impaling my stomach again and again and the fear filled my lungs so I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stop the liquid grief from pouring out of me and Emily began to cry, too. We held each other and let our sobs echo through the empty house until my nephew and brother-in-law came home.

After that night, my emotions began to deaden. By the time we gathered around Emily’s coffin, they had ebbed to a slow drip that leaked from my eyes. It was a few days after the funeral when I realized that apathy had taken over completely. I had never made a conscious decision to pursue this numbness but once I realized it had swallowed me up, I snuggled deeper into the cotton cocoon.

My apathy forced me to distance myself from my love ones, especially my nephew. My emotions for him had always been profound. My last moment of pure happiness was felt in Benjamin’s presence. It was the summer before everything went to hell and Benjamin’s first trip to the beach. He had made a game of tag with the lapping water. I hadn’t been able to help myself from laughing every time Benjamin squealed as the water caught his ankles. When he ran to me for protection, I had felt as though my joy was out growing my body and would surely destroy me.

I knew seeing Benjamin again would destroy the numbness. I pretended to be busy every time my mom mentioned how much Benjamin missed me. I accepted that this made me a shitty person.

I had finally run out of excuses so I approached the playground where my mom and Benjamin waited for me. I saw him before he saw me. He looked so much like his mother and, since Emily and I had always favored each other, I was proud that he looked like me. He let out a high pitched giggle as he flew down the slide and I knew I was in trouble. Then he turned my way. His smile broke me. As brilliant as his emotions were, my joy overshadow his. I laughed and wept as we raced toward each other. Then, as I caught him in my arms, he called me “Mama” and my legs gave out.