TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE
"Hey, Kinsey," Terry yelled, as he barged into the Sacred Yew. He looked for Kinsey in his office. Kinsey looked up, surprised to see Terry here. "You'll never guess what kind of drama just happened over at the shop."
Before Kinsey could reply, Terry blurted out the whole story. "Dude, I almost shot Ghost!"
"What?" Kinsey looked alarmed.
"Yeah, Steve and I were working, and Ghost comes slamming in the door, looking like a psycho, crazy person, yelling about something or other. Man, I thought we were being robbed! So, I grab my pistol and start shooting..."
"Wait...wait...did you shoot him, really?"
"Naw, Steve hollered at me that it was Ghost, but for sure, he scared the shit outta me!"
"Where are they now?"
"Took off down the road to their house, I guess. You should'a seen it, Kinsey. The first time I see Ghost since he's back in town, and I swear, I'm not lying, he's all sweaty and red faced...and his hair's flying in all directions, and...hahaha..." Terry starts laughing. "He was all raggedy clothes, and didn't even have shoes on. Ran all the way here...and no shoes on. Now that I'm not scared, it's pretty funny."
"Well, it sounds like something's going on out there with those two," Kinsey said.
"Yeah, let's go see what's up."
Kinsey shook his head, no. "Let 'em be, Terry. If they want us to know, they'll tell us. Let them handle it. It's none of our business...yet."
"I think it kinda is my business, since it happened in my shop, and I had to go shoot my gun!"
Kinsey gave Terry a look, then said, "You do whatever you want, then...leave me out of it." He gave Terry a cold beer, to help him see he should just stay here at the bar. Of course that worked. Terry still talked on and on about what had happened, as Kinsey got back to work.
Ghost and Steve finally got home. At their door, however, Ghost hesitated.
"Well, show me, Ghost." Steve held open the screen.
"Uh...uh...I don't really want to see it again. You just go look in there first," Ghost said.
Steve rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll go look, but you're going to have to do more than just stand out here."
Steve went in, not wanting to admit he was nervous. After the voices and moving boxes, he was reluctant to see what was in there.
Ghost yelled in after him, "Don't let the boogy man get ya!"
"Oh, crap," thought Steve, "just what I needed."
"Shut up, Ghost!" he yelled back. He went down the hallway to the bathroom door and looked in. "Yep, it's a big 'ol mess in here," he said.
Broken glass, and contents from the medicine cabinet were scattered all over the floor. He looked at the wall...and, there were the words. "That's funny that Miz Deliverance would hide the journal in a place so hard to find. When did she remove the medicine cabinet without us knowing about it, anyway, and how did she do it? She was just a little old lady," Steve thought. "Then, she had to put it back up there. This is very strange."
"Ghost, get in here! This is your house, and your grandmother's doing. You're supposed to find it, not me," Steve yelled.
After a minute, Ghost peeked around the bathroom door. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated from being scared.
"Don't go freaking out now, Ghost...we have to finish this. I guess we'll have to tear out the boards first. I'll go find a hammer or something," Steve said. "But, you're gonna take the first whack!"
They never did figure out how the journal got behind the wall...how Miz Deliverance could have done it without leaving a sign that the boards had ever been disturbed.
Steve handed the hammer to Ghost, who hauled back and bashed the wall hard. That put a small hole in the old wood. So he did it again, then again, making the hole larger every time. Steve had never seen Ghost be so aggressive. It was like he was beating out demons or something. Steve didn't even have to take a swing.
"I...I...can't...I can't reach in there, Steve," Ghost panted. "You do it."
Steve nodded, then reached in...into the dark hollow between the walls, and felt around. He was sure something was going to grab him, or maybe a mousetrap would spring shut on his fingers, like a booby trap..or maybe even a mouse, or worse, would bite him. But, he did it anyway. Then he felt something. It was book shaped, but soft, like suede leather. He slowly pulled it out.
They both just stared at it. Ghost shuddered and whispered, "It's not good, Steve...whatever it says, it's not good. I just think we should not open it, and take it out and burn it up!"
"Ghost, we can't do that. If it wasn't so bad that your grandmother could write it, then it isn't so bad you can't read it...and besides, she told you to."
"Well, I don't want to! You can read it if you have to, then you can just tell me any good parts."
"No, Ghost, we're going to read it together." Steve was firm about that.
"Maybe someday, then..."
"No, today," Steve insisted, and he grabbed Ghost by the wrist and led him out to the old couch.
Steve held the leather covered pages...Ghost wouldn't touch it. It was a nice looking journal, soft brown suede, with a long string to bind it, and quite a few pages to it. He undid the string. Ghost was breathing hard.
Don't go flaking out on me, Ghost. It'll be ok," Steve said. "It's just words on paper. You like words. You write words all the time. Nothing bad about that."
"But...words have meanings, Steve! Words put together in different ways are powerful! They can make you do things...like laugh, or cry, or get mad...or, well they make you feel things!"
Next installment coming soon!
Peace, Love, & Writing