Dust: A Witch Story
It seemed that in the last couple of weeks she was almost always around. Maybe he noticed her more since Nelson had started accusing her of being a witch but then she did live on their street, Cliff Avenue. Actually, she lived only two houses over from Nelson and several houses down from Chris and Scottie. More
Excerpts from Dust: A Witch Story
"And then I witnessed the event – a ritual slaughter. Her minion, Fred, was there. He actually helped her. She held the victim while Crazy Fred sacrificed the poor soul with a beheading axe. To be accurate, there were three victims that evening."
As they reached the body Chris knew it was no use. It was clammy cold.
Scottie and Chris inched closer to the saucer and readied their magnifying glasses. As they watched Nelson quickly lowered the bee into the liquid. Almost immediately there was a fizz and a few bubbles then the reaction was over.
"Well," Nelson began, "a file is not really complete without photos."
He paused for a moment.
"I was following Ole-Lady-Grover taking photos of her, and Fred saw me."
"How do you know he saw you?" Scottie asked.
"I ran into him."
He paused as if seeing something no one else could see then continued again almost as if talking to himself.
"She was ugly as a mud fence even back then."
Chris and Scottie didn't even bother to get up to get out of the way. There wasn't time. Each just sat up facing the door then put it in reverse and pushed with their feet for all they were worth scooting across the grass as if it were snow.
Finally the last of the silver objects bounced its noisy way out the door and rolled to a stop atop others in the grass. The noise subsided. The boys sat in the grass. They were somewhat stunned by the chaos that had taken place.
Scottie grabbed the mule's left ear. He leaned forward, his mouth open, ready to bite. Just as his mouth neared the ear the mule lowered his head again and began eating grass. Off balance now, Scottie slid down Jimmy Carter's neck, did a slow motioned somersault over the mule's head, and landed on his back in the gravel on the shoulder of Foster Road looking up Jimmy Carter's nostrils.
Her worry for the old man stemmed not from affection or empathy but from the worry of losing the strong hands she needed to accomplish her sole purpose which was to extend her life and more. His life was of no more concern to her than Lottie's or some inanimate object
After a second or two Scottie said, "Holy cow! What the –"
At the top of the page was the date, July 1, 1968, written in script in blue ink in the same neat hand.
What was written below is what caused Scotties surprise.
The line below read:
"Just as I thought," Nelson said. "It's a code."
"AN ANGEL! He screamed. "Nelson, are you nuts? That's nuts! Do you make this stuff up as you go along? This is NUTS!"
Scottie sat down, shook his head, crossed his arms and snorted. Then he glared at Nelson.
Chris didn't bother defending Nelson. The theory he had just heard sounded nutty to him as well. But Nelson was smarter than just about anyone he knew so he held final judgment for the time being. He waited for more details.
"Actually," Father Duddie, "we were wondering what that man is doing over there."
Scottie pointed at Crazy Fred. Father Duddie looked.
Chris could see that Crazy Fred got an expression on his face that said - Yee Gads! they sicked a priest on me!
"And," Chris continued, "the minute we mention that Ole-Lady-Grover's a witch or that we think she's a witch our credibility will be shot to a million pieces."
"Absolutely right," Scottie agreed.
"I would have to disagree," Nelson said. "If we just calmly explain to them and show them the witch file they will –"
Both Chris and Scottie stopped and confronted Nelson – noses to nose. Nelson blinked profusely.
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