Mother's Voice



  Mother’s Voice

  By Melissa A. Szydlek

  Copyright 2011 Melissa A. Szydlek

  Mother’s Voice

  By: Melissa A. Szydlek

  Katie sat on the edge of her bed staring up at the full October moon. The old house was dark and quiet. She was alone and too aware of it. The candles on her dresser cast dancing shadows across the walls of the room. The house was filled with the scent of pumpkins, but even that could not sate Katie’s sadness. She moved to the window and opened it. Leaning out, she breathed in a surprisingly warm October breeze that flowed in around her and caressed her face. She closed her eyes as large tears slowly escaped her. Her sister had often told her that October was lonesome like this sometimes.

  “October has a way of pouring memories down on people when they least expected it,” her sister told her. For Katie, it was the Halloween decorations that went up every year that brought to mind the things that were both heartbreakingly sweet and almost too much to remember. Hers were memories of a childhood filled with plastic pumpkins waiting to be filled with treats, scarecrows on her mother’s old wooden porch and tending to pumpkin patches that she helped her mother and sister plant. Christmas was fine, but it was Halloween that held those bittersweet memories that could choke her so unexpectedly that she was forced to make a low “mmphf” sound just so she could breathe again. Halloween had been her mother’s favorite time of the year. Pink had been her signature color, and every Halloween her mother would dress up as one of the Pink Ladies from Grease, adding her own touch of a pink rose in the lapel of her shiny pink coat. Her mother had died too young, only 47 when cancer took her away from Katie and her sister, Sissy. The overwhelming influx of memories had Katie’s mind working overtime and she was feeling very tired this autumn night. Reluctantly, she got up, shut the window and walked into the hall. The old floors creaked with every step she took across the warm green carpet. She picked up the phone and dialed her sister’s number, still crying.

  ****

  Sissy wasn’t alone this October night. Her husband was busy tinkering in the basement, trying to put shelves up in his workroom, and she had a pesky ghost locked in the second floor hall closet. The door to the closet was shaking as the ghost inside banged on the door, but Sissy had locked it tight, sprinkling salt on the floor in front of the door so the ghost could not come out.

  “Ha!” Sissy said triumphantly. “No more pulling dishes out of my cabinets for you.”

  Nick called up the stairs, “I can’t work with that racket.”

  “I’m taking care of it,” Sissy called back to him.

  She turned and reached for the kitchen phone while humming absent-mindedly. The phone rang before she could dial her sister’s number. She didn’t bother to say hello. Instead she said, “Katie? You are psychic. I was just about to call you. What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Yes I know what tonight is, but...” and she paused. Sissy sighed and spoke again. “Katie, listen to me, we can not let the death of our mother ruin our lives forever. Look, can you come over? I have a ghost in the closet and it’s making a terrible racket. I can’t get it to shut up. Yes, the one breaking my dishes. I finally caught the bugger. All right. See you then. Bye.”

  Moments later, Katie pulled up in front of her sister’s house and turned off her car. She sat gripping the wheel and stared at the big house, which was even older and creakier than her own. The three-story Victorian was shingled and sided like those often seen in New England. It had a large turret and several balconies on the second and third floors. A wrap-around porch hugged the house on three sides. Numerous trees surrounded the property. Most of them were bare of any leaves this late into autumn, and they gave the house a creepy feeling that Sissy, no doubt, was thrilled about. Katie’s brother-in-law kept the house in great shape, but Sissy’s house had, without really trying to, become the “haunted house” of the town. It didn’t help that Sissy went overboard with her Halloween decorations every year, or that she insisted upon putting them up on September first. It also didn’t help that Sissy was a bit “eccentric” to begin with and enjoyed playing up the image of the “crazy lady of the block”.

  Katie stared at the house, admiring her sister’s decorating efforts. Orange and purple lights sparkled in all the windows and twisted like ivy through the length of the porch rails. Fake tombstones and pumpkin-shaped path lights adorned the yard. Numerous Halloween-themed wind chimes and windsocks hung on the porch, balconies, and trees. Scarecrows and large pumpkins were tucked away underneath some of the trees in the yard. Katie wanted to smile, she truly appreciated her sister’s Halloween spirit, but she had too many things weighing on her mind and couldn’t get into the feel of the holiday.

  Before Katie got out of her car, Sissy came running out of the house, the screen door banging harshly behind her. Her red hair was streaked with lines of gray, and it was frizzy and flowing behind her as always. She wore a long, thick velvet skirt that made a swishing noise as she moved. She always appeared as if she were dressed for Halloween, even in the summer. Sissy was not a small person by any means, but she moved gracefully for such a big woman, and she was tall enough that she was able to carry her weight well. Katie sighed again and got out of the car, bracing herself for impact. Sissy ran over to her, grabbing her tightly and locking her in a claustrophobic hug. She kissed Katie’s cheeks while Katie started to hyperventilate.

  “You know I can’t stand being held down,” Katie mumbled between her sister’s heavy arms. Sissy stopped kissing her and held her away from her body, though she still held tightly to Katie’s shoulders. She feigned being hurt and said, “I wasn’t holding you down. I was merely loving on you. If I had been holding you down, you’d be on the ground, like this.” Sissy swiped at Katie’s knees with her leg and Katie fell quickly to the ground, landing on the grass beside the gravel drive like a slug. She let out a loud “oomph” as her sister promptly sat on her.

  “Get off of me!” Katie yelled.

  Sissy stood up, locked hands with Katie, and pulled her up. “I was just showing you the difference,” she said with a smile. Katie looked disgusted and started rubbing kisses and dirt off of her cheek. “Why do you always do that to me?”

  “Because, Katie, I love you! And tonight is a very sad night. Tonight, I’m allowed to do it.”

  Sissy walked to the huge front door while humming again and pushed it open, not waiting for Katie. Katie shook her head and walked back to her car and opened the trunk. She pulled out an old, patched bag and slung it over her shoulder. Before she reached the front door, Sissy stuck her head out and said, “Are you coming? You move slower than a snail.”

  “At least I move.”

  “IS THAT A FAT REMARK?”

  “No!” Katie shouted at her. “Why do you always say that?”

  “Because it gets you riled, Slug,” Sissy said sweetly.

  Katie walked into the house. She loved how her sister’s house always, no matter what time of year, smelled like a combination of pumpkin spice and apples.

  “I made some sugar free banana bread,” Sissy said as she walked out of the kitchen towards Katie with a huge, steaming plate of the bread.

  “I’m not diabetic, can’t you ever use real sugar?”

  “Of course not! I can’t live on the edge like that. What if I forgot that I used real sugar and ate some?”

  “You’d be fine.”

  “Not if I ate the whole loaf.”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why do you think this bread is hot? I had to make another loaf.”

  Katie smiled and reached for a slice of bread.

  “See, it’s good,” Sissy said. “Splen
da makes it taste just as good as sugar.”

  Katie shrugged her shoulders as the hall closet near the second floor landing began to pound once again.

  “Would you please take care of that thing?” Sissy asked. “I finally caught him while he was shredding the towels up there on the landing and I managed to throw some salt on him and lock him in before he could disappear.”

  “You threw salt on the ghost?” Katie asked.

  “Of course.”

  “They really hate that you know.”

  “What else was I going to do, grab him? I don’t have power over them like you do.”

  Katie did not reply. Instead, she reached for another piece of bread. The two sisters stood in silence. The only noise was the occasional rattling of the closet door in the upstairs hall. Katie finished the bread and slowly began walking upstairs. Sissy watched her for a moment then turned and went back into the kitchen.

  The ghost heard Katie’s footsteps and grew noisier, the banging intensifying. Katie put her hands flat against the door and whispered, “Hush, hush”. The banging on the inside of the door stopped. Katie said, “Why are you still here?”

  The ghost behind the door moaned in reply. It was a long, drawn out, and sad noise that made Katie wince. She hated how they transferred their sadness to her.

  “None of that!” she shouted.

  Katie waited for some type of response from the ghost. When none came, she bent down and swept the salt away from the door with her hands. The ghost, sensing that its lock had been removed, flung the door violently open. It stepped out of the darkness of the closet, hatred filling its face. Katie stood in front of the door, hands balled into fists at her side.

  “You wont’ pass,” she said to the ghost of a very old man.

  The ghost took a step toward her. Katie grabbed its shoulders and held tight.

  The ghost stopped for a moment, shocked that Katie was able to touch him, and unsure of how to proceed.

  “You have waited long enough. It’s time to go home.”

  The ghost tried to pass through Katie’s body, but found that he could not. He made no noise, but stared at Katie.

  “Time to go,” she whispered again as she shut her eyes.

  Katie tensed and her body grew cold. She saw her breath in front of her when she exhaled. She held the ghost’s shoulders even tighter while she waited for the horsemen to come. Whether they were red or golden riders mattered not to Katie. She just wanted this ghost to pass into the next life so she could let go of him. Her teeth began chattering and she whispered, mostly to herself, “Please come, please.”

  She looked at the ghost. The horseman must be having trouble finding him.

  “You have been here a very long time,” she said to him. “You’ve hidden well.”

  Finally, a great wind kicked up and Katie shivered. Her ponytail whipped around her face, hair getting into her mouth. She ignored it, not taking her focus or her hands off the ghost for even a moment. The wind died down slightly and then the screaming started. Katie never understood what the screaming was, but she had always assumed it was the dead screaming from the beyond. She heard the screaming every time she sent a ghost on, no matter what the color of the riders who came to collect their quarry. Horsemen on golden steeds meant that the gates of heaven were open to the souls that Katie helped to pass over into the next life. Red horsemen meant that the afterlife that waited would not be as pleasant.

  Katie heard hooves but did not turn her head to watch their approach, so she did not yet know where this man would go. As she watched the ghost, its dead eyes filled with tears. Katie felt something touch her and she turned her head to see a golden spear slide over her shoulder and slowly pierce the ghost’s body. A clear liquid squirted into Katie’s face and splattered on her shirt as the spear went deeper into the old man. The ghost, instead of appearing as if he were in pain, smiled. Katie let go of him and watched as he was lifted off the ground and into the air. She turned her head to follow the movement of the spear and squinted when the yellow glow of two Golden Horsemen hit her eyes. The horseman with the ghost dangling from his spear deposited him onto the back of his companion’s mare. The second horseman reared up and then disappeared. The first horseman stared at Katie. She stood shivering from the effort of helping the spirit move on. They always drained her of every bit of warmth that they could. The horseman leaned over his horse and looked closely at her. Katie stared back, his face so beautiful she felt like crying. He touched her forehead softy with the tip of one finger and warmth returned to her body. She was suddenly exhausted and fell to the floor. She watched as the horseman turned around and stared down the steps to the first floor. He turned back to Katie and frowned. Then he was gone. The last thing Katie saw before she passed out was the shadow of her sister, running up the stairs toward her.