Southern Ways – Part 15
Southern Ways
Unease settled over me when I tried to piece together the puzzle between Aunt Thelma and Uncle Jeb’s true identity. Their ghostly presence commanded a source of comfort in our family, but now I found it impossible to rid myself of the notion there may be a deeper layer of their story. I needed to delve into our family history. My explanation for why I appeared at the house seemed to satisfy them. Though I became unsure if they would allow me to leave.
“I’m so glad you’re here. It’s late, and I got concerned when I didn’t hear from either of you.” I wrung my hands, trying to play the part of the worried niece.
“Oh, dear. How sweet of you! Your uncle and I took a trip into town for some groceries. We planned to call you tomorrow.” Aunt Thelma said. She glanced down at the floor and, to my horror, the dust revealed another set of footprints.
“Are you alone, sweetie?” she asked.
“Yes. But Ken is expecting me. If I leave now, I’ll make it home in time to change and go to dinner.”
“What a shame. We wish you’d stay for supper. It’s been a while since we sat, only the three of us at the dining table.” Aunt Thelma looked at Uncle Jeb and smirked.
“Why don’t we plan on doing it another evening? Ken and I can drive out sometime next week.” I started toward the door, surprised they didn’t follow.
The sun set, and shadows played along the hallway walls while I walked toward the front of the house. Filled with a sense of foreboding, I felt their eyes on me with each step to the door. The cloaked figure disappeared, but I couldn’t be certain of his absence from the house.
“I’ll call you tomorrow on a date. Please answer your phones so I don’t worry.” I turned the knob on the door, frightened it might be locked, but it opened, and I escaped with no further questions or anyone holding me back. I rushed along the walkway toward my vehicle, Aunt Thelma’s words were, “Of course, dear.”
Once inside the safety of my car, I looked out the windshield and saw both of them standing statuesque on the porch. A robotic motion as they waved at me.
I drove away from Aunt Thelma and Uncle Jeb’s place. My mind swirled with thoughts of the dark secrets in my family’s history. I set out to go back to Aunt Rosie’s house and inform Ralph about what I had witnessed.
The next few days, I sifted through old family albums and dusty boxes in the attic. Searching for clues might illuminate Aunt Thelma and Uncle Jeb’s mysterious past. The more I uncovered, the more the puzzle pieces fell into place, revealing a web of secrets and lies my ancestors hid for decades.
On the evening I sat poring over a stack of faded photographs, a sudden chill filled the room, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand. I glanced up, expecting to see Aunt Thelma and Uncle Jeb standing before me, their ghostly figures casting a foreboding presence in the shadows. But no one turned out to be around – only the eerie silence of the old house enveloping me like a shroud.
A faint whisper echoed through the room, audible yet real. “You’re getting too close,” it hissed, sending a shiver down my spine. A figure loomed behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, the apparition I hadn’t seen in months appeared. The dark-haired woman. Was she whispering to me? Warning me not to dig any deeper? I ignored her.
The existence of ghosts in our family, passed down through generations, became well known. When I delved deeper into Aunt Thelma and Uncle Jeb’s real identity, I found it impossible to shake off the uneasy sensation their story contained more than what had been revealed.
I realized Aunt Thelma and Uncle Jeb’s haunting turned out to be the beginning of a much darker tale the patriarch had woven through generations. With each revelation, a growing dread crept over me, and I realized facing the past would unleash forces beyond my control. But going back was not an option – the truth had to come to light, regardless of the price.
Ralph and I were the protectors of our family’s realm, so I confided in him about my findings. Should we brave the depths of the abyss to seek answers? Or would it be wiser to consult with Liz and the coven?
We chose the latter. When I drove to Liz’s shop, she didn’t seem surprised.
“Come. Sit with me. It’s time you realized the truth.” I was shocked she knew why I’d come.
“Thelma, a witch from our ancestor line, met Jeb at one of the full moon gatherings. She went on her own, conjuring up old spirits who had been wronged back in the 1600 and 1700s. It signified her way of seeking revenge. One of her spells didn’t go as planned. Jeb, caught in the crossfire, lost a limb and Thelma felt guilty. Though we all thought they were a romantic couple, the reality proved to be a different story. Obligated to right her wrong, the plate-eye took over their bodies as punishment. Their souls, long dead, continued to interact with the living.”
“Aunt Rosie was aware, and buried it among the boxes. When she realized what they were capable of, she tried to vanish them. Her death came as a heart attack, but in reality, she died when they possessed her body on that fateful day.”
“The curse infiltrated your family with the death of the two women, Dahlia and Clementine. Your aunt and I tried for many years to break it, to no avail. When your Great Uncle Jess built this house, he constructed it on the original land where Clementine’s cottage sat. I thought they had a message for your aunt, but it never came through. And then she died. I assumed since Dahlia appeared to you, she’d reveal it. I knew how much it meant to you. My fear all along was that they would get to you and destroy your life. That wasn’t an option for me.”
“The hauntings on this plantation are disturbing. Portals into an unknown abyss, plate-eye sightings for generations, and a troubled dark-haired young girl showing herself during inopportune times. Your family has been through so much.” Liz sighed. “And now, Jeb and Thelma. We need to locate their remains. It is the only way we can rid your loved ones of this malady.”
“Their bodies? You mean, they’re still here?” I gasped. Tears filled my eyes. To think my beloved uncle no longer lived. But I was relieved to know I wasn’t obsessed, and Aunt Rosie’s death looked intentional.
“I’m sure they are buried somewhere on the property. We must gather the coven on the next full moon and perform an exorcism. Not a Catholic, but a pagan one.”
Liz led me to a small room in the back of her shop. Lit by candlelight and filled with various botanicals, crystals, and other mystical objects, she motioned for me to sit on a cushioned chair while she gathered some supplies.
“We need to carry out a tradition first,” she explained as she began lighting candles and arranging some dried herbs on a table.
“What kind of ritual?” I asked.
“A purification ceremony to cleanse your mind and spirit before we can delve any deeper into this curse,” Liz replied.
I closed my eyes as Liz chanted in an unknown language and sprinkled an anointing oil on my head. The smell of incense filled the room as she waved it around me, murmuring ancient words under her breath.
When she finished, Liz sat down across from me with a serious expression on her face. “Now we can begin.”
Liz and I drove to my aunt Rosie’s farm. With a heavy heart, I followed her lead as she guided me through the woods toward the hidden graveyard where my ancestors were buried. The moon gleamed above us, not quite full yet, and cast an eerie glow on the trees and gravestones.
“This is where your family has been laid to rest for generations,” Liz explained. “But we must be careful—the spirits here are restless and may not take kindly to our presence.”
Venturing further into the graveyard, I found it impossible to shake off the sensation of being watched. I could almost perceive the weight of their gazes on me. Their whispers carried on the wind.
We reached a group of gravestones clustered together. Liz kneeled in front of one and began brushing away the dirt and leaves that covered it.
“Here they are,” she said. “Jeb and Thelma’s last resting place.”
A knot clenched in my stomach when I saw the names etched into the stone. I couldn’t believe they were gone – my family always appeared invincible to me.
“But why didn’t their spirits move on?” I asked, struggling to hold back tears. “Why could I see him? Talk to him? How did he appear to be alive?”
“Because of the curse,” Liz replied, her voice filled with sorrow. “It binds them to this land until someone breaks it.”
“And how do we banish it?”
“We must perform a ritual during the full moon when the veil between our world and theirs is thinnest. But first, let’s gather all members of your family who have been affected by this curse. Only then can we hope for success.”
While I listened to her words, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with dread. The thought of confronting this dark force head-on terrified me, but it felt necessary for our family’s peace.
We spent weeks preparing for the ritual with Liz and her coven. We gathered every member of our family who experienced hauntings or disturbances and brought them to the graveyard on the night of the full moon. The atmosphere seemed tense as we all stood in a circle, holding hands and chanting ancient incantations.
The wind picked up, and the gravestones shook. A surge of energy built around us, and then it hit me. The souls were trying to break free.
Editor: Michelle Naragon
