The Wounded World, a story of Mantra, Chapter 8

By Aladdin 

Edited by Christopher Leeson

The Wounded World

Originally written 2006

Revised and posted Apr. 21, 2019 

Chapter 8

ALL ABOUT EVE
 
"Thy fear has made me tremble,
Thy terrors have surrounded me.
All love is lost. Terror succeeds,
And [there is] hatred instead of love." 
 
William Blake

Evie was glancing down at her knees, biting her lower lip.  I squeezed the little girl's hand and asked, "What did he do, Button? Can you talk about it?"

Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Yeah, I can talk, Mommy. Gus grabbed Mr. Paws and tore his head off.  He shouldn'ta done that. I didn't say anything bad, and Mr. Paws didn't say anything either. We both felt sorry that Daddy wasn't gonna keep his promise. When Gus did that awful thing, I started to cry.  You got so mad that you slapped him an' told him to stay in his room until he 'pologized to me and Mr. Paws. He told us to go away, that he hated everybody.

"I was feeling just awful 'cuz Mr. Paws was dead. I couldn't stop crying. I asked if you could fix him an' you said maybe you could. That's when Lauren called."

"What did Lauren say, Honey?" 

"I didn't hear, but you said she could come right over. Then you and me talked some more about Gus. You felt bad about slapping him an' said you were gonna tell him how sorry you were.

"After that, you heated up some soup for Gus an' put it on a tray with some other things. I asked if I could take it in to him. You said okay and Mr. Paws an' me carried it into him.  I figgered that when Gus saw how hurt he was he might say he was sorry. But when me and Mr. Paws went in to see Gus we just couldn't believe it! There was fire and smoke all over, an' Gus was glowing green! He was floating up in the air, like those bad wizard guys do in the cartoons. I was scared an' asked him how he could do that. He said he could do anything. That's when he saw how sick Mr. Paws was and used his magic to fix him, just like – magic."

“Did I heat the soup in the kettle or in the microwave?” I asked.

The question took Evie by surprise and she blinked.  “In the microwave, Mommy.”

“Was it thundering outside?” I pressed.

Bemused, Evie shook her head, “No.”

From this, I reasoned that would take only a couple minutes to have opened a can of soup and heated it in the microwave. That meant that between the time that Mantra and Evie had left Gus's room and the time that Evie returned to it, only minutes could have passed. In that very short space of time, the energy from space must have struck.  The newspapers had said that it happened at about 7:12 P.M.  Evie had heard no atmospheric noise, so it had apparently struck with silence. But how was it that Mantra, who was sensitive to magical manifestations, had been taken unawares? All I could think was that if the energy had been a form of magic, it must have been a very strange form of magic.

The Belle of Eerie, Arizona - Chapter 1, Part 1

Posted 04-07-19

Revised 05-07-19 

Revised 06-09-19  

By Christopher Leeson
 
Chapter 1, Part 1

December 19, 1871, Continued

Chapter 1

Tuesday, December 19, 1871

A prairie chicken, bursting from the roadside weeds, startled the carriage horse. “Easy now, Hazel,” Mrs. Fanning shouted to the beast, tugging at the reins to settle it down.

Myra Olcott, next to her aunt, bounced once on the hard seat and then forgot about the mishap; she was too angry to care. All she could think about was how her life had crashed into flames like a burning building.

Abigail Myra Olcott hadn't wanted to make this trip but Aunt Irene was insistent: “Everyone knows that a young lady has arrived from 'the East.' They'll all be curious to meet you and we shouldn't keep you out of sight for too long. They might start wondering whether you have a contagious disease, or something worse.”

Those words struck Myra like a blow.

Irene Fanning realized her mistake. The girl's parents had died of cholera five years past, and she was still angry with the entire world because of that.

“What I'm saying,” Mrs. Fanning explained, “is that you can't afford to have curious people watching you too carefully. You have secrets to keep. Or have you stopped caring?”

“I've already met everybody in town,” the girl said, “and what I've stopped caring about is the whole pack of them.”

“But they've only met you as Myron Caldwell, who's supposed to be dead. You have to introduce yourself as a totally new person.”

Myra scowled. She distinctly disliked the “totally new person” that she had become.

“I asked Molly O'Toole to join us today,” continued Irene. “The storekeepers all know Mrs. O'Toole. If she seems to like you, it should carry weight with them. Make a good impression and they'll spread the word that you're a fine young lady.”

With clenched fists, Myra declared, “I'm sorry I ever came back from Stagecoach Gap alive.”

“You've said that before. But tell me, <i>my girl,</i> would you truly rather be dead and buried, with your soul very possibly in Hell, or would you prefer to be alive – even as you are?

The maid gritted her teeth. The term “my girl” was a magical code-word that compelled her to follow her aunt's orders. She hadn't really believed in magic, but since the week before it had come out of the brush like a rattler and stung her. It compelled her to tell the truth, for one thing, and truth-telling was something that could only get a person into trouble.

“I don't believe in Hell,” the maiden replied grudgingly , “but I sure wouldn't want to go there if it's real.”

Irene turned her head and spoke seriously. “Most of the people who fall into the flames don't believe in the bad place either, I imagine. People who don't believe in Hell can't honestly believe in Heaven. And only people who believe in God are allowed to live with Him.”

“The demons must believe in God,” Myra retorted. “They don't live with him.”

“Yes, but they don't love him or obey him willingly. That's the difference.”

“I'd rather be a ghost and live by myself.”

“Whatever you want, I rather believe that it's not you who will be judging such matters.”

“It's the parsons that fill people's heads with ideas like yours,” the ginger-haired maid returned. “What does a bag of straw like Reverend Yingling know?”

The two of them had argued along these lines before. This time, the woman just sighed and kept driving.

By now, the buckboard had passed the town welcome sign and Riley Canyon Road was widening into the main street of the town. Eerie, Arizona was small compared to many Eastern towns, but here, south of the Superstition Mountains, it was the largest settlement to be found, except for Phoenix, sixty miles to the west. As they passed the false-fronted buildings on either side, people turned to look. Few could have missed the very attractive young lady seated next to the Widow Fanning.

Irene waved to those who waved at her first, but her forced smile was masking tension. How would Myra behave in public? Only a few people in the world knew the girl's real identity. Not even George Severin, the neighbor boy who helped them on the farm, had been told the truth.