Southern Ways – Part 11
Southern Ways
My aunt’s actions put me in an uncomfortable situation, and I couldn’t help but harbor a sense of bitterness towards her. It was difficult to ask for answers when she was no longer alive. The responsibility of uncovering the truth weighed on my shoulders. I lay in bed and struggled to shake off the overwhelming dread in my heart. A web of tangled strings, pulling me in different directions, a never-ending maze, a burdensome weight that grew heavier with time, and refused to release its grip.
My mind raced with thoughts and fears. I tossed and turned for hours. At last, I surrendered and rose, making my way to the bathroom. The harsh overhead light illuminated my tired face, revealing dark circles under my eyes that mirrored the burden weighing me down.
Since I had immersed myself in the realm of paranormal activities and witchcraft, I had found it impossible to escape the sensation of eyes on me and being trailed by a malicious presence. It began as an innocent curiosity, but now it seemed like a perilous fixation that consumed my existence.
I splashed cold water on my face, the memories of recent events flooded back – seances, traversing through unknown dimensions, and discovering my cousin Ralph and I were guardians of some mysterious realm. It all appeared surreal, yet I lived in this terrifying reality here.
I couldn’t continue down this path without taking a step backward and reassessing everything. My mental and emotional state suffered, and I neglected all other aspects of my life. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about the world. I wouldn’t be able to rest until the evil entity known as the plate-eye was vanquished. Here I was, standing in my bathroom in the early morning hours, wondering if I had enough strength to see this through until the end.
The veil between this realm and the next had been drawn closed, leaving me uncertain. Dahlia’s persistent presence had vanished, and the possibility that the plate-eye was blocking her message filled me with a sense of helpless terror. We were mere mortals, trying to fend off an unstoppable force, relying on trinkets to protect us. A sobering realization of our powerlessness against true evil.
Not wanting to wake Ken, I slipped into my robe and headed downstairs to make coffee. I flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. The power had gone out from the time I was in the bathroom. See how quick a situation can turn?
I rummaged through the dark cabinets, hunting for a flashlight or candles. Whenever I wanted something, it was never where it should be.
After a few minutes of searching, I found what I needed – candles and matches. I lit them and placed several on the kitchen counter and table. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the walls.
I poured water into the teakettle for the French press to make coffee. Good thing we had a gas stove.
Deep in thought, a loud knock interrupted my pondering. My heart raced. The idea of danger and intruders filled my mind.
I made my way to the entrance and peered through the peephole. To my relief, it was Mrs. Jenkins from across the street.
“Oh dear,” she exclaimed when she saw me peering through. “Your power out, too?”
“Yes,” I replied. I opened the door to let her in.
We sat at my kitchen table, surrounded by candles. Mrs. Jenkins chatted away about how she loved these old-fashioned blackouts, which brought childhood memories of long ago living without electricity.
The company helped alleviate the unsettling sensation in the house, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the plate-eye.
“I hadn’t seen you these past few weeks. Your husband has been in and out, but I didn’t want to disturb him. Sorry to learn about the death of Rosie. You two were close, huh?”
“Thank you. Yes, we were.”
“Such a classy lady, your aunt. Whenever I’d run into her at the Piggly Wiggly, she always had a kind word.”
Mrs. Jenkins and I continued to exchange small talk and stories about our lives. It was a welcome distraction from last night’s events and the power outage that affected the entire neighborhood.
Eventually, Mrs. Jenkins rose to depart, but not without a warm hug and an invitation for fresh lemonade visits.
A smile crossed my lips, grateful for the company and the sense of normalcy she brought. I stood at the door watching her make her way to her house. Back in my kitchen, I poured myself another cup, deciding what my next steps would be in conquering my paranormal problem.
The sound of footsteps descending the stairs pulled me out of my thoughts. Ken appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.
“Morning,” he mumbled, approaching the kitchen table.
“Electricity is out,” I replied with a forced smile.
“You look tired,” he observed. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot I made earlier.
“I didn’t sleep well,” I admitted.
Ken’s expression softened and he sat across from me. “Sorry about last night.”
“It’s okay,” I shrugged, brushing any lingering fear or resentment towards him for not being available for me when I needed him most.
We fell into an awkward silence before Ken spoke. “You’d been absent lately.”
My heart sank at his words. Guilt flooded me when I realized how distant I had been from him since my aunt’s death. I slid my chair closer to him and touched his arm.
“Can you forgive me?” I looked at him with puppy dog eyes.
He laughed. “Aww, you know I do. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, honey. How about a long weekend trip to Myrtle Beach next week?”
“Wish I could. Ralph had me dealing with the farmland in the back forty. Jeb suggested we try growing soybeans rather than corn this season. I put ads in the Local Farms magazine. If we can find someone, we’ll plant. That causes a new set of problems.”
I thought for a minute. “How about next month? By then, my obligations will be cleared up and we can let loose.” I placed my head on his arm and rubbed his upper thigh.
“Sounds like a solid plan to me. Organize it and let’s go.”
Ken kissed my forehead. “Gotta get ready for the office. We can continue our discussion at dinner tonight.” He got up and headed for the staircase.
“Honey,” I called to him.
He stopped on the bottom step. “Yeah?”
I walked toward him and threw my arms around his waist. It sent a warm tingle through my body to hug him. He reciprocated and squeezed me tight. “I love you,” I said.
“Ditto.” He returned. Drawing my chin up, he kissed me hard on the lips. Oh, how I missed our alone time.
I slapped him on the ass as he headed upstairs.
“Hey!” he laughed.
I watched him disappear at the top of the landing.
Determined to make things right between us, I followed Ken up the stairs and into our bedroom. He walked straight for the bathroom while I sat on our bed, lost in thought.
But as soon as he stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist and water still dripping from his hair, all the guilt disappeared from my mind. A wave of desire washed over me. My eyes soaked over his toned body and smoldering gaze.
“Hey,” he said with a smirk. He walked toward me.
“Hey yourself,” I replied with a coy smile.
He pulled me into another kiss—one that turned passionate. Our hands roamed over one another’s bodies. We fell onto the bed, shedding his towel and my bathrobe, and let our desires take over.
At that moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world—no ghosts or unexplained occurrences. Just us, lost in each other’s touch.
We lay tangled together under the soft sheets of our cozy bed. Despite my wanting to preserve this sensation forever, reality promptly resurfaced.
“I should get ready for work,” Ken sighed.
I groaned in response, not wanting to leave the comfort of our bed, but he was right. We both had obligations to fulfill.
Editor: Michelle Naragon
