New Yesterdays by Jim L Wright - HTML preview

Chapter 2

Mother announced that she was going into town to buy groceries. Saturday was the day for “going to town”. The trip to Piedmont always included stops at Top Dollar Store, and Steward’s Five-and-Dime. Jim liked the Dime Store, as they called it, best of all because Voncile worked there. She was a handsome woman, about Mother’s age and she always had a minute to spend the time of day with kids who came into the shop to browse the candy and toys and a million other things that filled the shelves. Today though, even the temptations of Voncile and Piedmont, Alabama couldn’t lure Jim. There were things he had to do.

After realizing that the interior of the two abandoned houses were nearly identical, he wanted to visit the closer of the two and make sure it wasn’t his imagination. It was as if both houses were calling to him, and that call couldn’t be resisted. He absolutely had to visit both of them again, and it had to be today. The first stop would be the one nearest the farm.

Looking around inside the old house, Jim was struck again by the wonders of it. For the first time he noticed an access panel in the tongue-in-groove ceiling that led to the attic. He couldn’t imagine how they had missed it in the dozens of previous visits.

“Maybe the ghost woman was saving that for me and disguised it so we wouldn’t see it.” That idea made him feel important. She didn’t want to share this new information with the other boys until she had shown it to Jim.

“Yep, that’s what it is, she wants me to see it first!” He had become quite comfortable with the ‘ghost woman’ as he called her, because he hadn’t yet given her a name.

As he pushed the access panel aside, the first thing he was struck with was the intense heat generated by the sun hitting the rusted tin roof. Many areas of the tin sheets had rusted completely through, admitting

shafts of brilliant white light that illuminated decades of accumulated dust on the floor of the crawl space. There were no wires like he was accustomed to seeing in the attic crawl space at home because this house and electricity had never been introduced. Like the crawl space at home, this one too had apparently never been used for storage. It was starkly empty. “I wonder why she wanted to show this to me when there’s nothing here to see. It makes no sense!”

He stood to peer out one of the rusty holes in the tin, wondering if he would be able to see Granddaddy’s house from up here. Yep, there it was with its pointed, pyramid shaped roof covered in slate blue shingles. He could just make out the kitchen end of the porch with the red brick well and the back door. He could see Nannie, his maternal grandmother was on the back porch doing her washing. Turning away from the hole, his eye caught the glint of something bright white that hadn’t any business being there. He looked again. Yes! There it was!

At the edge of what had once been the front yard was a small copse of trees. Since it was such a small grouping the boys had never ventured inside them simply because it didn’t look very interesting. Its proximity to the Old House made any mystery it might contain pale in comparison, so they just never gave it any attention. But from up here, Jim could clearly see that something unusual was amongst those trees and he had to see what it was. Now he knew why the ‘ghost woman’ had saved the attic space for him. Maybe it was a treasure! She wanted him and only him to see this thing! He scrambled out of the attic quick as a wink and raced across the yard as fast as his little short legs could take him.

The approach to the trees presented a challenge. The undergrowth was thick and liana vines hung from every branch. Some were as thick as his wrist. He had to fight his way through the lush overgrowth. He pictured himself trying to hack his way through the jungle, searching for King Solomon’s gold mines. He tried to be as quiet as possible to avoid alerting the natives to his presence. The dense foliage seemed to get thicker with every step. Just as he was about to give up he saw a stunning sight. The trees at the edge of the yard shaded and concealed three ancient graves! Ol’ Solomon’s gold was forgotten in an instant.

Jim couldn’t believe his amazing luck! Now he would know who had lived in the Old House. The three stark white gravestones stood more or less erect, but were covered by vines and leaves. That he had seen them at all from the attic of the Old House was a wonder. Immediately, he set to work clearing the vines that threatened to crush the stones. Slowly the names began to appear. The letters had once been deeply etched into the marble, but time, wind and rain had rendered them mere indentations. They were still clearly legible, though. Jim read each one aloud, as though he were addressing them. “Seamus Peter, loving husband of Bridgette Ophelia McCarley born 17th March 1794, died 5th July 1855 and Bridgette Ophelia, devoted wife of Seamus McCarley born 19th September 1797, died 21st March 1859 were buried next to their child, Clarence Peter, infant son of Seamus and Bridgette McCarley born 24th August 1818, died 14th July 1819. Each simple white marble headstone was engraved Requiescat In Pace. As he read the information on the stones, Jim slowly came to realize that these were the people about whom he had been making up and telling stories. Stories he had come to believe himself. More than ever now, he was absolutely, pluperfect sure it had been Ol’ Bridie, as he instantly nicknamed her, he had seen wandering sadly around the other house. It scared the bejesus out of him, but it didn’t stop him visiting the Old House because he was sure now, Bridgette had something she wanted to share with him.

After spending some time tidying up the lonely graves of the McCarley family Jim decided to go back inside the other Old House for more exploration. He was sure that he’d never find anything inside that could even begin to compare with his latest discovery. As he walked up the little trail that had begun to take shape from their many trips inside, he spied a flash of color next to a clump of weeds. When he bent down to probe it with his finger, he discovered it was an old glass marble nearly buried in the dirt. Happy with his find he walked jauntily back inside. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but merely wandering

from room to room. When he reached the kitchen, he dropped his new marble to the floor. When he bent to pick it up, he saw the glint of something reflecting the meager light coming in the windows. He excitedly dropped to his knees and snatched it up from the floor.

“Damn”, he swore quietly. He enjoyed using profanity in the way nearly all young boys do when they are coming into their own. It made him feel adult, dangerous and slightly wicked. “Not a diamond, just a shitty piece of broken glass…” his voice trailed off as he noticed the wall at back of the sink.

Under the rusty sink the wall was… rotted. It looked rotted. As he peered at it, the narrow vertical boards seemed to… what? They seemed to shilly-shally like his mother’s chintz curtains in a slight breeze. He looked more closely at the wall. It almost appeared to be intact, but the longer he looked at it the more it seemed it wasn’t quite all there. It was like the home movies Granddaddy sometimes showed the family.

He would direct mother to hang a white sheet on the wall to use as a screen. The pictures were dim and unreal, especially when the air caused the sheet to move.

He couldn’t see through the wall to the other side, but he could almost feel it. He noticed, with some annoyance, that his hand trembled perceptibly as he reached out to touch the wainscot. He expected the wall to disintegrate with his slightest touch. Why did this thought make him slightly uneasy? He was a boy, a boy who liked to make and break things. A boy who liked to pretend cardboard boxes were houses as he burned them out back of his house. Somehow, though, this was different, real, frightening…

Jim extended his forefinger to touch the wall, took a deep breath and pushed. As he half expected, his finger went right through to the other side. But… there was no crackling, tearing sound of ancient wood fibers breaking… there wasn’t any hole! His finger was clearly through the wall, but the boards were still intact as if the wood had been cut to

exactly fit his finger! “What the hell??” he gasped as he quickly retrieved his finger and inspected it. It looked exactly as it did before he pushed it in. It felt exactly as it had before he pushed it in. So, what in the pluperfect hell was going on here?

Suddenly, Jim was a pale little red-haired boy again. Not quite as tough and adventurous as he was two minutes ago and not nearly as brave as he thought he was. He stared at the wall as he absently rubbed his finger, wondering what he should do. The idea of sharing this new discovery with his two younger brothers, Tony and Michael, briefly crossed his mind. They shared everything; clothes, shoes, food, the rare bits of candy, even the big iron bed they all three slept in together.

This was different, though. This was his discovery. If he went back and told the boys they would want to somehow make the discovery theirs. Jim wanted to explore this new find and see what was on the other side. He was sure it must be some kind of treasure protected by a magic spell. Even though part of him wanted to share it with his brothers, a bigger part of him wanted to keep it for himself. If he found actual treasure, he would share with Tony and Michael naturally enough. But, this part of the adventure was his and his alone!

After staring at the wall for what seemed like an eternity, Jim began to think about it more logically. If he was able to put his finger through the wall with no bad effect, it just stood to reason he should be able to push his entire body through and see what the hell was on the other side. He was sure there was some kind of spooky explanation for it. He constantly read eerie books about magic and vampires and such, and absolutely had to watch Dark Shadows on the ancient black and white television set every afternoon. He constantly imagined vampires and werewolves and God only knows what else were lurking in the dark, just waiting to get their murderous hands on him. It was better that he check it out before deciding to let his brothers in on the secret.

After making his decision he refused to think any more about it. It was time for action. He crawled toward the wall and butted it with his head and felt himself going through. He imagined this is what it would feel like to push his head through a giant bowl of Jell-O. The part of his head that was through the wall felt cool and was it wet? No, he decided it was just a cooler temperature. When he was in up to his neck, he dared to open his eyes and look around. His large blue eyes widened in wonder as he took in the view. He was in a cave!

Jim excitedly pushed the rest of the way into the cave without considering whether he would be able to get back to the other side, or even to ask himself why a cave even existed under the old house. The cave was largish; he could easily stand upright. It had obviously been formed many years earlier. The soft brown soil was slightly moist and had the petrichor scent of the fields when a summer rain begins. Tangles of roots from hundreds of trees reached through the soil as if grasping for unsuspecting little boys who might dare to trespass.

Slowly, as his eyes became adjusted to the dimness, Jim became aware of a faint light further down the gradual incline of the cave where it seemed to make a curve to the right. Never one to seriously consider the consequences of his actions, he lowered his red head and plunged into the cave to discover the source of the light. To say he was unprepared for what he found is a gross understatement…

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Reaching the source of the light was almost as much a surprise as discovering the tunnel itself. It was only sunlight filtering in through the opposite entrance. He stood several minutes staring at the overgrown bushes and vines obscuring the light, contemplating his disappointment that what he had found was nothing more than an ordinary cave. The cave, in fact, was remarkably clean. No debris, rusty beer cans or broken whiskey bottles, nothing at all was inside the cave. It was as if he were the first person to ever set foot on its soft, loamy surface.

Looking back into the cave, gauging how far he had walked he decided he may as well push through the dense undergrowth and make his way back to the road through the woods. After all, the cave was only about 50 yards long, end to end. Getting through the snarled vines and saplings proved more difficult than he expected and only after fighting them for nearly fifteen minutes did he find himself in a small clearing near the bottom of the hill occupied by The Old House.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked aloud. He didn’t feel brave anymore and swearing didn’t make him feel ‘grown’ anymore. His first thought was to dash back into the tangle of undergrowth and through the cave, but his inquisitive nature wouldn’t allow it. Without even thinking about it, he knew what he had to do. First, he would explore the area around the cave entrance and then go back to lead Tony and Michael up here. He thought it would be best not to tell them what he’d found, but to show it to them. Hell, they’d never believe him if he did tell them. He was seeing it with his own two eyes and still having trouble believing it! Those two smart-asses would see now who is the real explorer and adventurer. They would look at him with different eyes after they’d seen what he would show them.

Nothing looked as it ought to. When he looked at the little knoll, there was no house sitting there! There was no clearing where it had been. The pear trees were gone. The house-place was as thickly grown with oaks, hickories and pines as the surrounding area. After carefully looking around to make sure he was actually where he thought he was, Jim turned and walked the few dozen steps to the place where the road should be and stopped stock-still. This road was supposed to be paved with tar and gravel, and here it was, a dusty, hard packed trail through the woods. It wasn't a road at all. He looked anxiously to his left, in the direction of home. The excitement of gloating about his discovery with Tony and Michael had vanished. It was replaced by a growing fear. He couldn’t understand why everything looked so different and yet the same. All the trees seemed to be in the right place and the terrain looked right, but the house was missing and the road wasn't as it should be. Looking to his right he saw the trail disappear as it curved left and climbed the hill. On his left it continued its gentle fall and another curve, this one to the right. He thought the old chert pit would be just beyond that curve. Up another small rise, a sharp left curve would take him home… or would it?

If he went home, would it look the same? Would Tony and Michael be there? Would they really be Tony and Michael? Would Mother be in the house cooking supper and looking after Dwayne and Bonita? In an instant he decided he didn’t want to know. He ran back to the cave and dove through the underbrush. He didn’t give his eyes time to adjust to the dimness, but rather ran as fast as he could back to the mouth of the cave. When he reached the wall, he slammed into it the way he’d seen Marshal Dillon do it on Gunsmoke, and rolled to a stop on the dirty, decaying floor of the Old House.

Quickly, he looked around to ensure he was where he should be and leapt to his feet and ran out of the house as fast as he could go. When his feet hit the tar and gravel road he ran even faster. Within 5 minutes he was slowing to a stop in his own yard, his eyes searching for his brothers.

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Tony’s blue eyes twinkled and a grin tugged at the corners of Michael's mouth as he wondered aloud whether Jim had found another jar of old Uncle Zeek’s whiskey. His resolve to keep them in the dark about his find had vanished as he ran home. Their teasing only infuriated him. To tell the truth he was more than a little shaken by his experience at the Old House. Nothing made any sense right now and even though he couldn’t have put it into words, he needed the support of his brothers more now than at any time in his short life.

“Alright, if you don’t believe me, come with me and I’ll show you where I went through and you can see it for yourself!” Jim was defiant as he tried to swallow the huge lump in his throat.

Michael's eyes scanned the ultra-blue sky as Tony examined a stone he’d just picked up. Both of them wanted to bolt from the yard and get to the Old House to see Jim's discovery, but they didn’t dare let on. They had to first make a great show of considering it. Finally, Michael allowed they might have time to check it out after they’d had dinner and “rested for a while” and Tony agreed that since it was the middle of the day, they shouldn’t go off on an adventure without having something to eat first.

When it looked as if Jim might explode any second, both of the younger brothers released the torrent of laughter they’d been holding in, slapped him on the shoulders and said “Let’s go!”

As they walked up the road, Tony and Michael demanded a retelling of Jim's discovery. He tried to tell it again, doing his best to stick only to what happened and not what he had imagined. In the short time since he emerged from the… (What the hell was it??), his imagination had run completely amok. Had either of them had an inkling of the adventures that lay ahead, they might’ve elected to stay home that afternoon…

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