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Swing Low: Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #19 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Chapter 18Do you consider yourself a good person?Leaving home again was hard, but not as hard as last year. Home was welcoming and warm. I just didn’t belong there anymore. It was strange to feel like a guest in the house I grew up in. On the other hand, my mother was sad to see me go. She treated the whole event as if I’d been leaving for the first time. But after packing me enough meals, with portions large enough to last a full week, she released me to the woods.The extra food weighed heavy on my shoulders. Its physical weight wasn’t the issue. It’s just that, she needed it more than me. But I couldn't turn it down. Not without spurning her gesture of love. Soon I was back in the woods. Those mysterious trees held many secrets, but I’d grown much more confident in my ability to navigate them. Sometime tomorrow I’d see my Midnight.The next morning, I awoke early to raindrops. The sky was still dark, the sun an hour or two from rising—or at least I thought so. The trees always hid the stars, but I could usually find some, just not right now. It was a sign that they were all blanketed over by clouds. Thunder surged nearer, like the crashing waves of an ocean. It would be a large storm. I wondered if I’d found sufficient cover under this tree. The blackness of the sky, combined with the tree canopy, made seeing anything impossible. My eyes wouldn’t tell me anything, but I would find out soon enough.Soon enough came in about five minutes, and no, I hadn’t found adequate shelter. The lightning that skittered across the sky every thirty seconds offered some illumination when it was flashing. Already I was so wet, I looked and felt like a boiled raisin. Sadly no place looked any better than where I sat. I could have stood, but I’d have been just as wet. Besides, I was cold and tired. Misery more than anything kept my butt planted in the soft mud.Like a turtle, I sucked my arms inside my shirt. The fabric stretched as I wrapped it tightly around my legs, tenting the shirt over my knees. I hoped to bounce some of the water off the fabric. I tucked my head as close to my core as possible. With eyes squinted shut, I tried to find escape from the soppy shivers by falling asleep.It didn’t work. There was nothing to do but wait. For hours I sat, my mudhole getting softer and slimier by the minute. The impression my body made in the soft earth also kept me a little warmer. After the first hour, I tried standing. The mud was like a suction cup. Since my body had warmed the mold, I only stood for a few seconds before I was compelled back down into its relative comfort.Eventually, though not as soon as preferred, the sun climbed to its place in the morning sky. It remained hidden above the storm, but at least some of its glow filtered through the dark cumulus clouds. The sheets of rain were the only limiting factor in how far I could see.Now I marveled, not for the first time, at how the thick canopy of the trees was insufficient to stop the rain. The blanket of leaves couldn’t even divert it into manageable curtains of water. Instead the drops kept falling, going straight through the foliage as if each tree was nothing more than an illusion. It was a rather convincing play of light, but an illusion just the same.I ate a quick breakfast. Thankfully my mother had packed it in a plastic bag. But the short few seconds between leaving the bag and entering my mouth made it dripping wet. With a sucking pop, I stood from my mudhole. My ankles ached as only wet cold joints know how. Like an old arthritic man, I limped and hobbled for a good ten minutes until my knees limbered some. Even after that, every few steps felt like my feet were carrying twice their weight. Little pinpricks explored every spot where one bone connected to another. It was going to be a long day.Every fifteen minutes of hiking felt like an hour. I hiked twenty-four hours that morning. By noon I found the hangman’s camp. It had been particularly hard to find in the rain, but something was wrong. Not a single person could be found.At first I wondered if I’d stumbled into an older camp. Maybe they went somewhere else during bad weather. But that didn’t seem right, either. There were no more shelters, pots, or clothing anywhere. I walked around quickly to make certain that I was in the right location. Everything about the place was right. It was the same camp that I’d spent a whole month becoming familiar with.That was only two weeks ago. All was the same, except everyone had moved on.They couldn’t have left too long ago. I hadn’t left that long ago. But there were no tracks leading anywhere that I could discern. Their footprints must have been washed away by the storm. I had no means of following the large group of children. I sank to my knees. How was I ever to find Midnight? I looked around again, hoping for something from her that could tell me where she’d gone. But she couldn’t even write. There was no way I could ever find her.One broken thatch roof had been left behind. It leaked badly, but it was the best form of shelter left. I took refuge under it and stayed, feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t have the energy to go on. I remained there for some time, maybe from a vain hope that someone might return and let me know where everyone had gone. More likely I was just too tired to press on. Angry, wet, and alone, I cried.Afternoon came, then evening. All the while the rain beat down.After what had started out as a restless night, I blinked awake. The sun was up; for how long, I had no idea. The rain must have stopped during the night, allowing me to drift into an exhausted sleep. Now the cold wetness was replaced by a hot and muggy midmorning.My mouth felt like cotton and tasted like I had a week’s worth of morning breath. I took off my shirt, hoping to walk more comfortably without the sticky damp thing on my back. The mosquitoes quickly compelled me to put it back on. Putting the soggy garment back on was a trial of discomfort all its own. I felt disgusting as I slowly rolled the cloth back down my fleshy body. Mosquitoes turned into skid-marks as my damp shirt disturbed their feast. Thoughts of getting to my comfortable apartment dominated my will. Even Midnight was pushed to the back of my mind. I had a single-minded purpose of finding comfort again. If I didn’t find dry clothing soon, I’d never shake this dreadful state.Like yesterday’s storm, the one in my mind soon passed. By noon I had dried out. The weather was still intolerably hot and humid. My head was clearing and I was able to hike on, noticing trees and birds rather than mud and fallen sticks. From the hangman’s camp, I knew that I had a full day-and-a-half walk to civilization. Midnight would be disappointed that I didn’t see her again this summer. She’d have to understand. I vowed that before next summer came, I’d find her again. My first opportunity might be around Christmas, when school generally gave us two and a half weeks off between semesters. If I had to, I would use most of the break to find her again.That next afternoon I was in my new apartment, washing mud-stained clothing in the kitchen sink. After hanging the last of it to dry, I wanted to plop down on my bed and sleep for a couple days straight. But that wouldn’t do. I needed work, which meant that I had to re-secure my job at the New District Times. I changed shirts one last time then dragged myself out the door toward the publisher’s office.The interview went well. The job was easily mine again, even though the main editor accused me of sloppy work. He told me that I’d need to write better this year than I’d done last year. It was the same story he told every journalist to negotiate lower pay. "You're not a high rolling journalist yet. Don't expect to be paid like one."The degrading comments were just a part of the job as far as I was concerned. He might lowball my articles, but even then, I could manage to pay my bills. So, while that didn’t surprise me at all, what—or, rather, who—I saw when I left his office nearly knocked me onto my rump.Krystal had just turned a corner and happened to walk right in front of me. She stopped, her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped, if only for a moment. “Iddo? Is that really you?”I could barely answer. She was every bit the girl—woman—I remembered, but my, how she’d changed, and only in a single year. While her face retained a healthy plushness, she somehow looked thinner, more radiant. She didn’t look like a girl, that much was clear. She had the voluptuous maturity of any American woman I’d seen in the movies. Unfortunately, her personality hadn’t bloomed nearly as much as her figure.I opened my mouth to respond, and in true Krystal fashion, she cut me off and began her own story.“Iddo, I can’t believe I’m seeing you here of all places, especially after you quit studying journalism! You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here. Well, yes, I’m not quite done with my schooling yet. I mean, sort of. You know how it is, I’ve got some college credits, but I’ve still got a good three years left of actual college. But I was offered a chance to leave for an internship here, and, of course, I couldn’t pass up that opportunity. Besides, it was a good excuse to get out of my house. My dad can be so difficult sometimes. But you know how dads can be. The bus ride around the woods took so long and . . .”She droned on for some five minutes. I remembered why I’d found being around her such a chore. Not only was my body tired, but now my mind was going to be drained, just from keeping up with her. I didn’t want to offend her again, especially since she’d now be working here. I was sure she’d eventually tell me all about her soon-to-be responsibilities as an intern, but she was only to the part of her story where she found an apartment. Until I understood what she was doing here, I didn’t want to burn a bridge that might negatively affect my own employment.Over the next week, I saw Krystal two more times. I learned that her new responsibilities involved helping edit and review all articles that came in for publication. She and my chief editor worked closely together. He needed a free laborer to keep up with the work. Krystal was just financially secure enough to not need the income for living on. At least I suspect she didn’t need it, not as long as her dad was still willing to pay her living expenses. Considering his preferred lifestyle, whatever cost it took to get his daughter out of the house was likely worth it to him. But Krystal wasn’t completely devoid of income. She was still allowed to do some freelance articles if she had any spare time. Knowing her, she would find the time. Her goal was to be the face of the news someday. In her mind, she saw everyone recognizing her. From what I could tell, her looks alone would significantly help with that.Like before, I was the first one to settle into the apartment. Jhon and Charles came next. Their parents still drove over in the same cars. The vehicles were just as immaculate as they’d been last year. If I hadn’t known better, I would've assumed they were brand-new.We exchanged brief welcomes. Jhon and Charles were still a bit aloof around me, but I didn’t mind. They were amiable enough to call them good roommates. After hearing some of the horror stories about other people’s roommates last semester, I could easily live with two guys like these, even if one of them always made a mess around the toilet.The day before classes began, Thing Two burst in the door. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in a week. Still, he radiated energy and commenced with overzealous hellos. Behind him I expected to see his sage-like friend, Thing One. But Duy was the only one returning with him."Happy birthday," Duy said with a hard slap on my back. "How was your summer?""Good. I'm surprised you remembered.""You're seventeen now right?""Yep." I said, silence following. What else should I say? I had so many questions to ask him about the Believers, but this wasn't the time for it."So young. But better than sixteen." He hobbled past, luggage in tow. I wondered if Duy and Thing Two had spent some time together over the summer, or if they both just happened to arrive simultaneously.An irrational jealousy crept in on me. Not that I would have cared to spend any time with either of them over the summer. It would have been impossible, anyway. Still, it felt like a mild jab at my own social awkwardness. If they could have developed a good enough friendship to hang out over the summer, why couldn’t I have done the same with Thing One? Did this mean that Duy would no longer want to room with me?The jealousy was quickly replaced by hope. Maybe they would room together and Thing One would have to room with me. Then I might actually get to know him better. The man did intrigue me. Without a doubt, he would be a better roommate than Duy.But aside from the two arriving at the apartment at the same time, nothing else really changed. Duy still roomed with me, and Thing Two took over the last remaining room.As for Thing One, he didn’t show up until the following week. I went to class on a Monday morning and when I returned late that evening he was there. Since I didn’t need tutoring from Duy this year, I hoped that I might be able to develop a better friendship with Thing One.Thing One wasn’t as cooperative. He was still the same guy I remembered, but he had to catch up for missing his first week of school. When he wasn’t working on his schooling, he seemed to disappear. I could swear he was nearly as busy as I'd been last year, maybe even more. His tone of voice reflected that sage-like friend I’d grown accustomed to, but his brow was constantly wrinkled with some unshared stress. Maybe it was his job, maybe it was school. Whatever it was, it weighed heavily enough on him to show, despite his amiability.No matter. This school year was shaping up to be a great one. Nobody could bring my spirits down. I was learning something I was passionate about. I had a good job. Most of all I had a wonderful girl waiting for me, that is, if I could ever find her again. Many of my free moments were spent daydreaming about her. Countless hours of wistful planning were exhausted. One day I'd bring her out. Despite my planning, I wasn’t quite sure how to provide for her; for us.Click here to read Chapter 19Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #18 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Chapter 17Some wicked men accuse him of stealing children out of their homes. This lie only serves those who escape his noose. How else could they save face when confronted about their missing children? This deed is practiced openly, still they lie about it. Their own conscience condemns themselves. Yet they would rather harm this mentally challenged, disfigured man, who gives his all to provide a second chance at life to the innocent. If nothing changes, then one day you and they will look up and beg “Have mercy on me, and send this Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool our tongues; for we are tormented in this flame.”I’d grown used to spending the first several of hours of each day away from Midnight. But this time, for the first two hours of my hike away from her, I felt a heavy longing to return. My mind replayed our conversations. Had I really just proposed marriage to this girl? Well, maybe she proposed to me. But it had happened!The thought made me giddy. The more I imagined it, the lighter my steps felt. Before long I was practically skipping through the forest. The very idea of a life with Midnight had been unimaginable only a year ago. Now I could hardly wait to be with her again.My biggest dilemma was, of course—should I tell my mother? I was young. Too young to even be thinking of marriage. I’d lost track of the exact day, but in another few weeks I would be seventeen. By the time I came back for Midnight, we’d likely get married at eighteen years old. Young still, yes. But not unheard of. The bigger shock to everyone would be that I, Iddo, had found such a beautiful and sweet girl who was willing to marry me. So, no. I wouldn’t tell my mother—yet. I might tell her that I had a girlfriend, but I would leave it at that.Late that night I arrived home. Our humble home was dark, and I knew my mother must be sleeping. Not wanting to wake her, I lay outside in front of the house and fell asleep. I anticipated dreaming about Midnight, but my subconscious had other things to sort out. Of all things, I dreamed of Duy. In my dreams, he and his fellow Believers were using their powers to battle the witch from the woods, with all her dark magic and poisonous serpents. The witch was strong in her power, but the Believers were stronger. Stronger, that is, until Duy was expected to contribute. Once he got involved, the witch gained the upper hand.For some reason, Thing Two was there encouraging and criticizing him. The witch just smiled. Her snakes bit Thing Two then turned toward Duy. “Dere aw no second chance for you life,” she hissed. “We chosed we own path. Second chance aw for help auders dat we would ave helped, if we been able. Me own you now. You be doin’ what me tells you do, for now and always.” The snakes all reared back then lunged to strike Duy—I woke with a jolt.The sun was just peeking over the horizon. The morning heat was about to wash over me. The familiar smell of a cook fire drew my attention to the side of the house. My mother was already awake, heating a small pot of rice. Her smile was the sort that couldn't be removed, not even with a metal pry-bar. Not counting the extra wrinkles brought on by her grin, she looked much older. Wet puddles of tears had yet to dry from several creases that I'd never seen in her face before now."I'm so sorry, I wanted to let you know I was all right, I-"She didn't let me finish. Her arms were around me in seconds. Apparently she hadn't exhausted her crying. Her breath came in ragged sobs. "What happened Iddo, where have you been? Are you okay? Your hair, it's so short."My mother, my wonderful mother. She looked radiant. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes and I couldn't help but let some of my own squeeze out too. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glistened. But she was happy. Then without warning, she grabbed a ladle from another pot and smacked me on the top of my head.“Are you trying to kill me?" She scolded. "I was so worried for you! You better have a good explanation.”I rubbed my head. I could still hear the metallic thump of steel on skull. Two months had passed since school let out. I'd had two months to figure out how to explain my delay and I was stumped. The nauseating sludge of guilt oozed into me, filling me with a sickness I never thought possible from a simple emotion. She stood in front of me with fists on her hips, that ladle still clutched in her right hand. That large steel spoon hurt and it threatened to give me another good whack if my story wasn't good enough. Maybe she would give me one anyways just for good measure.There was no way I could tell her about the witch. She’d never let me go back to school again. But this was my mother and I couldn’t lie to her. I thought quick and hard. It was insanely difficult. How were other boys able let their mothers down so often and still go on living?“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just had a few extra lessons to learn after school ended. I didn’t mean to be so late in coming.”They say that the best lie is one with some semblance of truth. Well, I did learn some lessons. I’d learned that there is a God, though I didn’t know much about Him except that He’s more powerful than a devil woman. I also learned that I loved a girl who would one day become my greatest treasure. I even remembered the dream that I’d just had. It was so vivid, almost like I had something to learn from it also, but I couldn’t figure out what.“You could have written. We may not have a phone, but your uncle does. Why didn't you call him? Iddo, I thought the woods had swallowed you! You can't do this to me.""I'm sorry, I was so caught up in everything, I didn't even think-""That's right. I sent you to college and you still can’t think!" The ladle raised in the air again. My hands shot up to defend myself but it didn't come down. Instead my mother pointed it at me as if it were a dueling sword. "You may have moved out mister, but that doesn't give you the right to ignore me. I called the police and the school. Nobody knew where you were. I nearly charged into the woods myself in search of you. If it weren't for you uncle, I just might have. And don't you go telling me that you enrolled in any summer classes, I already asked the school about that. Your newspaper hadn't heard from you either. So what were you up to?""I was staying with friends, and I lost track of time." I felt bad for not telling her everything. I felt even worse that she caught my little fib. I felt bad for admitting that I'd been selfish. I felt so bad that I didn't even try to stop the ladle as it came down hard again on my forehead. Wow, she was strong when she was angry."I'm still mad at you, but I am relieved that you are safe. I don't care if you delay coming home. But next time you better write, even if you make it here before the letter does.”“Yes, Mother,” I said through a growing headache.While breakfast was cooking, she sat down on the ground in front of me, her flare of rage returned once more to the loving smile I'd known all my life. How could she still love me after that? “So I want to hear all about it.”“All about what?” Did she suspect something more? The way she sat with that new glimmer in her eyes made me suspicious. Was it that obvious that I was in love?“Your schooling. You’ve wanted this for a long time. How’s it going? You found work at a newspaper—how was that?”I sighed. Of course, school. I should have guessed.“And who is the new girl in your life?”I jumped in surprise. “Girl?”She smirked. “Do you think I can’t see the glow in your eyes? You can’t hide something like that from your own mother.”I smiled. No, I guess I couldn’t. But maybe a few details could still be hidden. At least until a more appropriate time.We talked all through breakfast. I told her about my roommates, my job, schooling, and a little bit about Midnight. Luckily my mother got hung up on her name and didn’t pry too deeply beyond that. She found it difficult to believe that any adult would name their child Midnight. I didn’t tell her that it was probably other kids who’d given her that name.Talking with my mother was nice. She even left for work a little late. Since there was nothing for me to do at the house, I took to wandering. Maybe I could find some small jobs to help her out while I stayed. Mostly, though, I didn’t want to be bored sitting at home. There were plenty of neighbors to visit and I did talk with some of them. Somehow I was drawn toward the marketplace and onward to the school of journalism that I’d attended not so long ago.For maybe the first time in my life, I noticed the smells of my hometown. Obviously I’d smelled them before, but this was different. From the dried fish market to the lime dusted streets near the Tusk plant, my hometown was welcoming me back.As I looked at my old school, despite my dislike for the profession, I couldn’t help but admire the building with a sort of nostalgia. I didn’t go in. Classes were out for the summer here, as well. I turned back around, retracing my steps in the direction of the marketplace. On a whim, I turned up a street I’d rarely walked. It took me through the richer neighborhood where Krystal lived. Surprisingly her father’s house was among the more dilapidated homes in the neighborhood.I heard a commotion coming from inside the home. A woman in her thirties came running out of the house. Her tight skimpy clothing suggested a profession meant for the most desperate. Krystal’s father followed not far behind. He was missing a shirt; his hairy chest was slick as if he hadn’t showered in weeks. He held a nearly empty bottle in one hand; I couldn’t tell if he wanted to drink out of it or throw it at the retreating woman. He was shouting something that was so slurred, I could only grasp about every other word.The woman kept quiet and quickly walked away, trying to avoid attracting any more attention. I turned around to ignore her. Any eyes following her would only add to her shame. I felt bad for her. I felt even worse for Krystal. I couldn’t imagine coming home to such an environment. I remembered how I’d treated Krystal in the time I’d known her. Yes, she’d annoyed me, but it’s not like she had life any better. At least I came from a good stable home. The least I could have done was treat her better. Despite my own insecurities, I now saw that she probably had a mountain of her own. She was the one who needed a good friend.I hoped to see her now. She wouldn’t be home, though. Not with her father in this state of angry inebriation. She probably didn’t spend any more time at home than absolutely necessary.I wouldn’t.Where would she be right now?The next two weeks passed without much excitement. I never did see Krystal. I found a few odd jobs to help pay for meals while I was at home. My mother’s health seemed good enough and I enjoyed spending time with her. But after two weeks, I was ready to leave. School would be starting again, and I wanted to be there at least a week beforehand, mostly to guarantee that nobody else came and took my journalism job. I’d also promised to see Midnight on my way back to school. I couldn’t very well let her down.Click here to read Chapter 18Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #17 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Chapter 16Daddy Smiling is not a criminal. He may be a form of vigilante. But if our fuzzy law permits bribery and corruption in all levels of government and law enforcement, what right do they have to condemn this man? For years now they’ve turned a blind eye to murder of the youngest and most innocent. Their deliberate ignorance created the hangman. He hunts down the cruelest of our society, adopting their young into his band. Only with Daddy Smiling do they stand a chance at life. Live they do, and wonderfully too.I walked for the better part of the day. Normally I would have been a little concerned, but some of that light optimism stubbornly clung to my mood. While I had a general idea what direction to pursue, I was also aware that I had a lot of jungle to navigate, and no clear path. I hadn’t thought to bring any food for my journey, as escaping Laidy had been my only goal. Maybe I should've thought things through a little. Of course, if I’d done that, I wouldn't have attempted it. Even still, while my mind told me to worry, my heart assured me that all would be well.Toward late afternoon I stopped to rest. My heart might be light, but my stomach had no problem voicing its complaints with constant grumblings. A quick survey told me that none of the trees or plants held anything worth eating. At least nothing that I knew could be eaten.There was nothing else to be done. I stood up to continue my hike. I looked up at the sun to check my bearing. My shoulders fell, pulling my heart with them. Now that the sun was drifting more to one side of the sky, I saw that for the last couple hours I’d been going the wrong direction. I wasn't backtracking, but I’d gone a little perpendicular to where I wanted to be heading.A twig snapped in the distance. Someone or something was out here. Could that be Laidy, or one of her animals? I hoped I hadn’t gone in a large circle! I couldn’t risk walking on like before if someone was following me. I needed to know who or what was out there.Slowly and quietly I crept toward where the twig had snapped. It was probably just a rodent on a dry branch. There were no more noises and nothing living to be seen. By the time I figured that I’d gone beyond the snapped twig, I gave up. There was nothing out here. I turned around, determined to be back on my way—then froze.Before me on the ground was the distinct imprint of a shoeless foot. Did Laidy wear shoes? I think she did. At least sandals. Judging from the size, it could've been her foot. I walked a little further and found another print. This one was smaller but clearly human. A smile touched the corner of my lips. I sped up, nearly running along the tracks. A charlie horse brought me back to a crawl and I had to limp along until the pain faded.At times, the tracks were hard to follow. After an hour, I had no problem. The tracks were joined by others, until eventually there was a nearly packed-down trail leading to their camp. I walked into the clearing just before sunset. A few heads turned my way, but I kept on going until I found Midnight. She was eating alone.For the last hour, I'd forgotten much of my hunger. Not all, but enough to let my mind think about her. Now, as I stood in place and watched her gracefully dine on her humble meal, I couldn't help but lose all the confidence I'd acquired over this incredible day.My heart thudded, dragging my heavy nerves with each pounding beat. Why was I so nervous to walk up to her? And where was Chirp-chirp and Grub? At least they could help make this easier on me. Slowly, she found herself aware of the attention directed at her. Her eyes lifted to meet mine. Her head raised, followed quickly by her smile. She stood as I approached. She looked more beautiful than I remembered, stunning me anew. Before I knew it, we were in each other’s arms. We held each other close for several seconds. How had that just happened?“You came back. I knew you would, yes I did,” she said as she let go of me.My chest was pounding and I couldn’t think of how to answer. I hadn’t ever planned to come back; it had just kind of worked out that way. Yes, I might have daydreamed about it a little, but fantasizing about it wasn't the same as actually doing anything about it. But I was glad to see her!My heart palpitations weren’t quite settled when I asked, “Chirp-chirp? Grub? Where are they?”Her gaze dropped to the ground. Was it because I asked of them instead of telling her that I’d missed her? “Grub is Daddy Grub now. He helps Mommy Flor with new baby.”“Grub is raising a baby now?” I was shocked. Not just because Midnight held a small grudge against Flor, but he was just a little kid himself. I knew that these kids were given high responsibility early on, but it was hard to fully assimilate.“Daddy Chirp-chirp is with Mommy Darling. They have new baby, too, yes they do.”“What about you?” I asked. “Are you going to get another baby and find a boy to help you raise him?”She looked at me for a long minute, her eyes probing mine before my belly interrupted the moment with a gurgle of hunger. She laughed. “Big tummy needs big food.” She stood and jogged over to the cooking area. My eyes never strayed as she went. She didn’t have any of her own food left, but there was plenty of food left over from other pots that she was able to scrape together. It wasn’t great, but it sure eased the pain in my stomach.That night we walked and talked for hours. I told her of the witch, my schooling, and my work. She told of how Daddy Smiling was bringing in so many babies that some kids were even adopting two. If there was that many new babies, I wondered why Midnight hadn’t taken on another one herself. But every time I raised the question, she deflected it. I think we were the last ones to go to sleep that night.I hadn’t meant to stay long. My mother was probably worried sick. I’d only planned on staying for a meal or two. The normal Iddo would have been right on my way home to ease my mother's concern. But a meal or two turned into a day or two. Then that turned into weeks. Each night I would tell myself it was time to go home. Then I'd spend the evening talking with Midnight. There was something magical about this place.This camp was as primitive as could possibly be. Aside from the occasional sound of a distant airplane, this community was completely cut off from the rest of the world. I loved it. The air was cool and fresh. Down by the small lake, the canopy parted to show more stars in the heavens than I'd ever noticed before. Just like the witch's cottage, this place cast a spell of its own on me. And of course, there was Midnight.My nostalgia for this place and the children's way of life was great enough that after a day or two, I'd taken to waking early in the morning, then I'd follow the other boys out into the woods for a day of gathering food. The first few times, Chirp-chirp or Grub helped me learn what to look for. After a week, I was doing everything on my own.When I came back to the hangman’s camp each night, Midnight would be waiting with a warm smile to greet me. I was gathering for her and me. Some of the older kids teased us, calling us Mommy Midnight and Daddy Iddo, raising “Baby Nothing.” Normally, this might have bothered me. Now, as long as Midnight was by my side, I was invulnerable. I could talk to her about everything and anything. Well, anything that is, if the language barrier didn't get in our way. But we were both growing accustomed to each other's limits, and we were adapting remarkably.She even sympathized with my newfound feelings on Deity. I got the distinct impression that she had a deeper relationship with God, even if it was as primitive an understanding as my own.Daddy Smiling still went out every day, sometimes bringing back a young child or infant. Most days he came back alone. When he wasn’t doling out stewardships for the new arrivals or actually saving those children, he’d walk around the camp. He rarely said anything. With that huge toothy grin, he’d walk by, putting giant tender palm on each person’s shoulder. His expression hardly ever changed. But there was something in those eyes. They were often squinted, but when he laid his hand on my shoulder, they opened wide enough for me to see into his heart. What I saw was larger than life. Everything about this man was giant, especially his compassion for his children.I loved this place and I loved the hangman. I have to admit that I quickly grew to love Midnight, also. How she could love someone as unattractive as me was beyond my comprehension. But I knew that she loved me back. Every time we were with each other, we moved as close together as we could. Our shoulders or hands were always touching. My daily foraging was blissful, but even with the satisfaction of finding a living from the woods, my work was done in haste so I could return to be with Midnight.I hadn’t been keeping track of time very well. I'd allowed myself more distraction than I should have. I must have stayed for close to a month. What had I done to my mother?For the last couple of weeks, I'd thought more and more about this. I was being selfish and I knew it.I was on one of our evening walks when Midnight turned to me, "What's wrong? Are you Mad? Is my poor Iddo sad?"“Midnight--I,” I squeezed her hand, trying to think of how to say what needed to be said.She looked at me, her eyes wet. Somehow she knew what I was thinking. "You need go to Mommy Mother." That was what she called my mother, since I always referred to her simply as Mother.I nodded.“Daddy Smiling brings new babies. He needs new mommies, yes he does.”Where was she going with this? “Why haven’t you gotten a new baby yet?”“You came once, and I feel not same. You here now, and I am not same. I like not same. I want be Mommy Midnight with Daddy Iddo, but for always. I want be”—she struggled finding the right word—“Wife Midnight.”That caused my heart to skip more than a single beat. I pulled her close to me and hugged her. I inhaled the scent of her skin so close to mine. I wanted to hold her so tight that she would be a part of me, never to separate.“I want to be with you, too,” I whispered in her ear.“Stay,” she begged.“I can’t. I have to go.”“Then I go, too.”I thought for a minute. There was no way. Not at this time. I would need at least a year. I had school to go to. I had an apartment already reserved for that year. I had a busy job. I had no way of supporting this wonderful girl.“I have to go for a few days to visit my mother. I’ll then come back here for a few days. Then I’ll need to leave again for a year. Just like I did last time. But I will come back.”“Then you stay?”“Then I will take you with me, away from here. I will make you Wife Midnight.” My belly filled with butterflies as I said this and I knew that I wanted it to be so. She might lack my formal education, but there was nothing stupid about her. She would adapt quickly. Young as I was, I would have her for my wife.Her smile, glistening with teardrops, filled me with warmth. “I wait for you, yes I will. I—love you, yes I do.”“And I love you.” And for the first time for either of us, we kissed. Never was any moment so sweet as this. Never did I feel so weightless and happy. This was, without a doubt, the best day of my life.The next day, she packed me enough food for the remainder of my journey home. We walked together, just far enough to be alone. After all, while boys and girls paired up to raise a child in this camp, none had ever actually fallen in love, at least not to my knowledge. Their families were just a temporary arrangement to help raise babies to the bare minimal point where they could in turn take care of a baby. Midnight was among the oldest here, and her feelings were maturing beyond her peers. She wanted a real partner, with a real family. The others might not be able to understand. So we kissed one last time, away from their curious eyes.Turning to walk away was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I wanted her to come with me, but found comfort in my resolve to visit again on my way back to school.Click here to read Chapter 17Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

Since I'm able to track my podcast downloads, I've noticed that nobody has really cared to listen to them. So effective immediately, I'm going to quit recording them. Since time is so precious to me right now, I consider this a good thing.

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #16 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Chapter 15I’ve seen the good and the evil. The difference can be the light of day or darkness of a cloudy night. Most of us never see the full depth of either, because we live in our gray shelters with our own artificial fluorescent lights. There is danger in ignorance. Yet most of us prefer to live with our eyes only half open. I don’t know if we’re afraid of being wrong, or afraid of having more accountability. Either way, I know that evil has real power. Because of this, God must be real, too, with real power. Evil cannot exist without righteousness. And if this is the case, do we really have to wonder who will eventually triumph? Why, then, do most of us sit on the fence, trying not to offend either force?In the darkness, I could see an enormous yellow-and-black-striped snake. Its jaws unhinged and a gaping mouth with dripping fangs scooped up my feet. My legs were wet with warm reptilian saliva as my waist moved closer and closer to its hollow eyes. I tried to scream my protest, but the only sound was the wet suction of my body entering its mouth. Its neck bulged and my chest scraped past its scaly lips, into that balmy neck.Its mouth clamped shut around my neck, and my head, the only part of me not yet swallowed, stared into its eternal eyes. I could see fire in those glassy balls. The monster seemed to smile before opening its mouth one last time. I felt the snake’s muscles contract as its squeeze pushed me further into its stomach. Its mouth closed, plunging me into darkness.I was slipping and sliding down the inside of the snake when I awoke with a jump and a yelp. My arms and legs spasmed up wildly before I came to my senses. I was lying down on a wooden plank bed. My clothes were missing and I was covered in a stinking paste of mud, blood, animal guts, and who knows what else. I looked around and, for a second, I thought I saw the snake’s firelit eye again. I drew a sharp, painful gasp. The eye was just a round metal teakettle, reflecting the fire that burned below it in a small rock hearth. With a chilled shake, I exhaled.Nobody was in the room with me. I couldn’t remember how I’d come to be like this. I certainly hadn’t smothered myself in this tarlike substance. At least the witch had the decency to leave my undergarment on. Remarkably, I felt much better. I don’t know how long I’d slept. Some of my muscles were still a little stiff. But even that may have just come from lying on the hard, flat plank of wood. If it weren’t for the fact that I looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, I might get up and continue my way home.My stomach grumbled, and I realized I was famished. No, I wouldn’t get very far at all. I needed to get cleaned up and get a good meal. Lifting myself off the wooden bed, I stood. My head spun with unexpected dizziness. I had to sit again and focus on my breathing. I was alive, though weak.A sheet of canvas ruffled to the side of the doorway and the witch entered the room. Around her neck she wore a necklace of teeth. Bracelets of bird beaks made a dull clicking noise as she raised a hand to grab my jaw. Staring deep into my eyes, she first turned my head left, then right. “You owe me. I save you life, you lucky I here. Dat bite nough to keell el’phant.”“Who are you?”“I is you savior, dat’s who I is.” She walked over to the kettle of hot water, and poured it into a large bowl. Dipping an old torn rag into the steaming bowl, she wiped my skin clean of the black goo. Each time the scalding rag touched me, I flinched. How could she keep dipping her own fingers in that bowl and not recoil from the heat?As she cleaned, she pulled off an occasional black rock, inspected it, then dropped it to the bottom of the water bowl. The rocks weren’t the only thing besides black paste that were stuck on me. Giant leeches, the size of my fingers, were also attached all over my body. She delicately cleaned around these bloodsucking creatures, then pulled out a sharp knife.She noticed my wide, horrified eyes. “Hush. I is not tryin’ hurt you.” She laid the edge of the blade flat on my chest and shaved the first leech right off. A small bead of blood lifted from my skin as she continued to scrape off more of the black slugs.My face and legs were next to be cleaned. The water wasn’t as hot by this time, but that made the stinking tar-like grime harder to remove. The whole process took about half an hour. All of it was done in near silence. Not complete silence. I may have whimpered a little. She kept giving satisfied grunts, especially whenever she’d remove an especially fat leech.When finished, she left the room for a minute. I used the time to pull on my clothes. I’d just woken up, but I felt so tired and weak, I could scarcely stand and put on my pants at the same time. I hoped she’d removed all those nasty leeches as I pulled my shirt over my head. That was when I noticed: My head was bald. She’d shaved my head while I was asleep. This was too weird. When she came back in, she gave me a plate of eggs, overcooked strips of goat meat, and milk.“Eat. Get you strong. I serve you now, but you is soon to serve me. You be workin’ hard to please me.”I ate the eggs and meat with my fingers. The food was nothing special, but such was my hunger that I would have inhaled it in a single bite. Only guilt slowed my pace. Guilt at letting myself be so vulnerable that I'd eat from a witch’s plate. For all I knew she had some other cruel poison or potion that would help enslave me to her will.After drinking the whole glass of milk, I felt remarkably better. I stood and didn’t feel like tumbling to the ground. Slowly I made my way to the canvas flap. Parting it I looked outside to where a fire was burning. The lady was there, quietly chanting something I could not understand. In one hand she held a soft, hand-sewn doll with short black hair. My hair? She then took one of the leeches and squeezed it like a tube of toothpaste, its bloody black pulp got smeared all over the doll. Then she took another leech and squeezed all its juices between her teeth. I cringed.Licking her lips at what had to be the most disturbing meal I’d ever witnessed, she took one last living leech. Together with the two dead and flattened leeches she held them over the fire. All three burst into flames. The fire licked all around her fingers but she didn’t seem to care. Nor did the fire appear to hurt her.“It is done.” She smiled with wicked mirth as she turned to face me. I don’t know how, but she knew that I’d been watching her the whole time.“What is done?”“You know.”At the same time three leech bitten scabs started to heat up. The burning entered my bones, then followed them to my back where it ran up and down my spine. My stomach nearly crawled out of my throat. I knew. Sick with shaking dread, I knew.She took the doll and bent its knees. Involuntarily, I collapsed to my own knees. “Me owns you now,” she said. “You be doin’ what me tells you do, for now and always.”There on my knees, I emptied my belly of the eggs and meat and milk of my recent meal. I wasn't just terrified, I was violated in the most evil way I could image. My very body was no longer mine. I could feel the thick tendrils of evil, weaving their searing strands around my bones. Invisible strings tied me to this witch like a puppet for her to perform her darkest pleasures. This was the end of Iddo. I could hardly imagine what she'd want of me. I wanted to die before I had a chance to find out. But even that choice was out of my reach to control.The horror of my predicament was short lived. Being a slave to a witch was nothing like I'd thought. The first month passed. I did everything from taking care of her animals to chopping wood. Contrary to what I would've guessed a witch to prefer, she was a stickler for cleanliness. In fact, she was more concerned with cleanliness than even my own mother.My mother. I should have been home weeks ago. I knew she couldn’t help me. Not here. What was she thinking right now? She knew I was supposed to come home for the summer break, but if I was late, what could she do other than place a call to the college? They wouldn't know anything and they certainly wouldn't send any search parties into the woods.Today I was dusting. Dust was never present here. I think some magic spell kept it away. But every minute I wasn't busy chopping wood or fixing meals, I was supposed to be dusting. And spiders—if I found a single spider, no matter the size, I was to smash it to a pulp and add its gooey remains to the other invaders of her territory that she kept ringed around her home. These creepy bugs, like dust, seemed repelled by that ring of dried remains. Still, a spider or two would occasionally find its way past that mystical circle. Probably by floating over it on a strand of silk. “Scustin’ creatures,” she called them.Rarely did she openly display her religion. Aside from the doll which bound me to her and that healing she’d first performed on me, she never did anything within my sight or hearing. I think she was afraid that I'd learn something that I could use against her.Aside from her unusual jewelry, she seemed pretty normal. Well, hermitic and demanding, but not supernaturally weird. Even her speech wasn’t all that different from some people I knew. They were usually older than this woman, but they had learned English, if only out of necessity. Many of them resented that their native tongue was disappearing from our culture altogether.I wanted desperately to get away from this place. But every so often, more at the beginning than later, this self-pronounced Laidy of the Woods, or Laidy for short, would jab her doll with a needle, or flick it with her finger. One flick felt like being slapped in the face by a heavy door. The needle, oooh the needle! Imagine being impaled by a fence post. Just the memory of it makes me tremble. I wondered if the hangman was out there somewhere. Did even he dare venture near these witches? I dreamed of him coming in with that thick righteous rope of his to sever the grasp that Laidy held on my soul. I don't know when I started thinking of his rope as righteous, but if this was hell, I'd happily live in his paradise.That was dangerous thinking though. It brought back memories of Midnight. With every memory of the hangman, or every comparison I made of a girl, my thoughts always came back to her. Even if I did love her, which I didn't, I was never going to see her again.Occasionally, when Laidy wasn’t in easy view of me, I’d get the idea to run. Then, as if she had magically read my mind, I’d feel my sides pinch in, as if a giant had taken hold of me with two massive fingers. I could almost imagine her holding my doll and playing with it like a little child. “Me owns you for always,” she’d say.One morning after I’d woken up, I set to work making her breakfast. I felt different that morning. It wasn’t just that my arm had fallen asleep. Laidy had fallen asleep on my doll’s arm again. No, I was feeling frustrated and rebellious. I wanted to see my mother. If I remained here, slave to the cleanest witch in the world, I'd scream till my throat bled. And yes, I wanted to go back to school. Laidy might be able to smother my hot head with just the threat of her sewing needle, but I was determined that she wouldn’t see my hate for her. I had to get that doll away from her.I watched her finish her porridge, waiting for any opportunity. Then it happened. As if Providence had opened a way, she stood to take a walk in the woods. The doll fell from her lap onto the ground. I felt the fall like one who wakes from a fall in a dream. I also felt the slap of the earth. My whole body jolted. But it was over in an instant, just a dream. In the seconds following, I bent over and picked up the doll.“Give me here, boy,” Laidy warned, stretching her arm out.“I will not be controlled by you anymore. I have the doll now and I’m leaving.”My heart froze as she laughed with a wicked smile. “You think me needs a doll? You see me drink black blood of sucker yes. We three be one.”Then, to my horror, she lifted her finger to her mouth and clamped her yellow teeth so hard that her finger snapped in two places. I knew this because my finger suddenly broke in two places also. I screamed in pain. She screamed in exultation.I clutched my finger, a useless attempt to ebb the pain. Then I watched in horror, as she grabbed her broken finger with her other hand and commenced churning and grinding the broken pieces of her own bone together in a circular pattern.I howled and recoiled, falling to the ground. I wanted to bury my hand in the earth. I wanted to cut it off. The grinding shot lightning bolts of pain up my whole arm. Even my teeth ached with each gyration.When she finally let up, my jaw ached and I could just make out the taste of sweet copper in my mouth. My teeth had been clenched so tight with the pain that that my gums had bled. My teeth would be fine, but I would never forget the feeling of my finger as its bones were intentionally grated together.When her shadow crossed over mine, I looked into her eyes. They were both hard and soft, like that of a dark souled parent, disappointed for having to discipline a child. She held out her hand and I passed the doll up to her. She clenched it tight in her fist; my sides ached with the squeeze. But her broken finger was miraculously whole again. I looked at my own finger, expecting it to be good again. But no, mine truly was broken. Somehow hers had healed, and mine had been the one that broke for real. I even had teeth marks in my skin. It was exactly as if she’d bitten my finger, not hers.“Dis pain is much worse when done it dis way. You learn. You be mine for always, boy.”That night I could barely sleep. I had nightmares of the most morbid self-mutilating tortures that Laidy could do and physically transfer to me. The whole while I could see her grinning and laughing, with her own blood dripping from her mouth. I imagined the blood changing to mine, not the normal red, but that same black ooze she’d sucked from the leech after healing me of the snake bite. I could feel it dripping around her teeth as she laughed at my agony. Then I finally fell asleep.I would have expected nightmares, but that’s not what happened. In my dreams, I was filled with light. I re-experienced my day back in journalism prep and how I’d seen some peers chanting and piercing their tongues. The memory of my epiphany at the time resonated in my mind. If evil has power, then the Devil is real. If the Devil is real, then God must be real, too. And if God is real, then he too must have power. Not just any power, but power over evil.I woke early. My mind was at peace. I examined my finger. It was still broken. Somehow the pain was less. The swelling had gone down in the last couple hours of sleep. I took it for a sign that my dream was telling me a truth that I needed to heed. Sitting up, I struggled to firm up my resolve. Already the impact of my epiphany was fading. I knew that if I didn’t act soon, my newfound faith would abandon me all together. But how to act?I could take the wood axe and drive it into Laidy's chest when she wasn't expecting it. No, I was no killer. I don't think I could even kill a dog, let alone a human. Not even if that human was some wicked hag that had no qualms about hurting me. Besides, even if I did work up the will to slam that chopping wedge into her chest, like my finger, she'd probably laugh it off, and I'd be the one with the hole in my heart. There was really only one thing I could think to do.I would do it. I took one last look at my finger, a twinge of fear curled in my gut. Then I pushed the feeling away. It’s funny how even when evil is so evident, faith in a more powerful being of righteousness can seem more daunting. I had to keep reassuring myself as I got dressed and gathered my few belongings. I made one last meal for Laidy of the Woods, picking up my money clip that was stashed in her room as I delivered her food. She would have seen me reach for it if she was looking. But she was seated at an odd angle, and couldn’t have seen what I’d taken.“You not be thinkin’ to take me doll today, boy?”“No, you can keep the doll. It’s not important to me anymore.”She eyed me suspiciously as I left the room.After exiting, I walked and didn’t stop. Even after I heard her shriek, I didn’t turn back. My mind was focused on hope and the power of Him to deliver me. Even when she sent her snakes after me, I kept walking. The slithering serpents barred my way as they had done the first time, no doubt intending to bite me and force me back to the witch. But my faith rendered the voodoo ineffective. Even my finger was whole again. I wondered if Laidy’s shriek had been because her magic wasn’t working, or because my broken finger had transferred back to her.In any case, I just lifted my eyes to the tree's canopy and let the morning heat fill my heart. I walked right through the snakes, not caring where my feet landed. I had tapped into the merciful power of the Almighty. He protected me from the poisonous fangs of the Laidy’s reptiles.In my mind, I thought on everything I'd ever been told. There was truth in what people preached about witches. The Believers on the other hand, they were different. I had just defeated the power of this witch. Was the ability to do this, the same power that Believers relied upon? Duy had admitted that some of his people really did have miraculous powers. He'd refused to demonstrate. I almost think he couldn't show me, even if he wanted to.What I was feeling right now, it felt so pure and good. Duy had been experimenting with his freedom. He was away from his family, and subsequently anyone that would disapprove of his actions. He was testing a life of deeds that were in conflict with his people—with his god.I leaped over a log and stretched out my arms. For the first time in a good long month, I felt so alive and free. Free from the clutches of evil. Free from the fog that filled my mind, not just from this last month, but for most all my life. I almost felt like skipping and jumping. So I did, at least for a minute. Eventually this strength and power left as did my breath.As I tried to avoid wheezing, I felt as though I understood the fierce rivalry between the witches and Believers. Witches would use the power of the devil. Believers, well, I know evil can't defeat evil. Plus, what I felt was definitely not evil. If anyone could tell the difference, I could. Evil was in the power of Laidy. Evil was the motivation that led men to dispose of their babies in the woods. Evil was in so much of daily life. But there was good in the world too.Even the hangman, by comparison, was good. In his own way, he waged a one-man war against the bad that invaded his realm. Despite Duy's weak resolve to follow his own beliefs, he wasn’t a bad guy either. At least I didn't believe he was. His choices were increasingly leading him in that direction though.Unfortunately, even though I'd already made some progress this year, changing my perspective on the Believers would be challenging. I had some real truths to work out for myself. I wasn't ready to run out and join their ranks. But there are powers in this world that go beyond normal reasoning. I knew this now. Because of this, I had to figure out how they all fit together. If they indeed were attributed to God, then perhaps there was life after death also. If that is the case, then I would be supremely stupid not to search for a better understanding.I had time though. I didn't want to procrastinate for too long, lest I lose my zeal. But for now, I was free. I knew for sure the source of my freedom and I would treasure that miracle forever.Click here to read Chapter 16Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #15 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Download audio podcast here) (Chapter 14The woods hold strange people. People who can’t live in normal society. Maybe they are unwanted children. Or perhaps they are the deformed and simply seek a life free of persecution. In nearly every case, these people were rejected by our society. They are the strange and unwanted; then there are the dark ones. Some venture in looking for this brand of evil talent. Some find it. But despite them, not all who reside in the woods are bad.Our last week together was fun. I still didn’t understand Thing Two very well and Duy seemed to be struggling more and more with his resolve to live up to the Believers’ covenants. For some reason those two were always together. But I was comfortable with all of them, even Jhon and Charles. We may not have played much together, but we all got along just fine. Our mutual satisfaction was good enough that we all decided to room together again the next semester. For the next three months, before school was out, we were all anxious to go home and visit our families.Jhon and Charles were the first to leave. Not by any choice of theirs; it’s just that their parents arrived early on a Saturday morning in their shiny cars. Their good-byes were stiff and awkward. Duy was next to have his belongings packed. He’d gotten up earlier than me to start. As a Believer, he wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol. I don’t think he wanted me to see him cleaning out the dozens of empty beer and rum bottles from under his bed. Even if I had been able to sleep in, the thin glass of his new forbidden vice made a gentle clink that was just sharp enough to shatter any hopes of early morning dreams. Really, it’s not like I didn’t know about his drinking. It was often on his breath. Even worse was the smell his body made after sleeping the night while sweating it out. But if he felt shamed by it, I’d play ignorant. I wasn’t a Believer, but even I saw the evil in alcohol. Mostly I felt sorry for him.When I finally did get up, I took a quick shower. Showers are always quick when they're cold. I suppose the apartment managers didn’t feel like paying for warm water for one more day than they absolutely had to. Not a big deal. It’s not like I grew up with warm water. The air was generally hot enough that cold water often felt good.“Well, I guess I’ll see you when school starts back up,” Duy said to me.I was just toweling off. The stiff fibers were quick to scratch, but slow to dry. I made sure to tuck the towel firmly around my waist. With one hand firmly on the towel, in case it decided to slip, I reached with my other to shake his outstretched palm. He was my roommate and I was forced to dress in front of him occasionally. But that didn’t mean I was comfortable being naked around him. I gripped his hand in mine. “Three months, Duy. I look forward to it.” There wasn’t much more to say. We’d already stayed up late last night talking about our plans for the summer.“But hey, when school starts up again, Iddo, you and I will need to play some more. You’re almost to the point where you don’t need me to tutor you every free minute you get. You’re way too busy besides that.”It was true. I was making good progress in my schooling. Toward the end I was almost able to keep up, only requiring about an hour each week of help from Duy. I said, “You can count on it” but I didn’t really mean it. I knew deep down that, even though I was catching up to the other students, I would be too busy to play much with Duy. Maybe because experience told me that I wouldn’t be given any breaks. More likely though, I didn’t want to spend that kind of time with Duy.His idea of play was drifting toward a lifestyle I didn’t admire. I don’t think the Duy of nine months ago would have approved, either. Hopefully being back with his family for a few months would strengthen his integrity. I don’t know why I worried so much for him. If he wanted to rebel from his faith, that was his choice. Still, it’s sad.All of this passed through my head in half a second while he gripped my hand. But with my sympathies running high, and my other hand holding my towel, I was rendered defenseless when his free hand swung around. I prepared for a totally awkward hug, but instead received a hard jovial slap on my bare wet back.I wrenched my hand away from his as his face contorted into a maniacal grin. “That’ll leave a mark,” he laughed.“Go home,” I jested back. “Nobody likes you here, anyway. Go torment your family for a change.” The hand-shaped welt on my back felt like a gigantic bee sting. I suspected that in a few hours I could look in a mirror and still see every fingerprint of Duy’s hand, etched into the full handprint that was now there. But there'd be no mirrors where I’d be sleeping tonight.Thing Two looked curiously sad as Duy left the apartment. I got dressed and was next to go. Thing Two went in for a slap just like Duy’s, but I dodged it. I’d come to understand that those two were remarkably similar in personality, though Thing Two was a little more extreme in his mood swings.Thing One just gave me a wink and waved good-bye with a finger. “Take care of yourself. I know you will,” was all he said before retreating into his room.Of all my roommates, I’d miss him the most. He was the most mysterious of them all, and yet I felt a connection with him. I almost hoped that next year the sleeping arrangements would stay the same. I’d hate to room with him only to learn that he had darker secrets that made me lose some degree of respect for him. But somehow I knew that was silly. He was a good man.After two hours of walking in the woods, I wondered if, for my return trip, a compass might be a good investment. I had no intention of visiting the hangman, nor his lost children. I remembered the general direction of where they’d been holed up. Since it was out of my way, there was no reason to extend my hike there. It would just delay my trip back home. The woods held less mystery to me now that I’d crossed them once and learned one their biggest and best-kept secrets. This illusion of comfort was stupid on my part.I’d been walking for about eight hours when I stopped to rest and eat my evening meal. I planned to hike for another couple hours before bedding down, but my stomach ached with hunger. I hadn’t even sat down yet when I felt a small prickle running up my back. Stupid Duy, he didn’t have to hit me that hard. But the prickle was followed by a chill, as if his handprint was warning me of something I should have noticed by now. The first telltale sign was a small flicking point just under a shrub of undergrowth. No, there were several small flicking points all around me. The sun hadn’t set yet, but everything seemed darker.I froze as I focused on the shiny yellow-and-black-striped bodies attached to the flickering tongues. The cylindrical bodies of the kraits were now distinctly visible. These nocturnal snakes, though extremely venomous, were often shy and rarely bit humans. But at least twenty, each between one and two meters long, were surrounding me in an ever-tightening circle.That shouldn’t have been happening. Snakes don’t coordinate, especially this cannibal variety. They were more likely to fight and eat each other than to attack a person. But coherent thought had been replaced by panic. I spun around once, twice, my frantic eyes desperately seeking out any avenue of escape. But I couldn’t run between any of them without getting bitten. Somewhere deep down in my instincts—it had to be instinct—I knew that I was going to die. Thanks a lot, instincts. Not very helpful.Unlike the last time I panicked in a life-threatening situation, this time instead of freezing up, my legs moved without my realizing it. I knew it was useless, but I raced toward one of the smaller snakes, anyway. As I reached it, I leaped has high and far as I could. I don’t think I’d ever jumped so powerfully in my life. I felt suspended in the air as I floated over the earth and across the snakes. I suddenly thought that I’d been very foolish to panic. All I had to do was jump over them. I knew that as soon as I hit the ground and put a few meters between us, I’d feel silly for having nearly lost my head.I was feeling good when something twisted around my ankle. I felt the sharp fangs of the deadly snake puncturing the back of my calf. I tumbled to the ground, rolling and kicking. The snake held on for the longest three seconds of my life. Finally, it let go and slapped to the ground beside me. For a moment, we both stared motionless into each other’s eyes. Those glassy black beads were cold and pitiless. A black forked tongue flitted out of its mouth, tasting the victory. Then it turned around and slithered away. There were no other snakes in sight. It was as if they had all gathered to see which one could bite me first. Satisfied that one of them had poisoned me, the rest to lost interest.I lifted my pant leg and stared at the two aching holes in my skin. Thin red trickles oozed from the bite. It hurt a little but didn’t fester. Maybe the snake hadn’t released its venom. I stood up, trembling. A quick survey told me that I was definitely alone again. I walked with a slight limp, not so much from the pain in my leg, but from fear that if I used my leg too much, the poison might circulate more quickly throughout my body. A foolish notion, I know. I didn’t need to study medicine to know better. But I was too far away from any medical help. My chances of dying tonight were high. Treated, I’d likely have a fifty percent chance of survival. Untreated, that chance was more like ten or twenty percent.I was a wounded animal. My only desire was to put as much distance between myself and the place of attack, in case the demon snakes came back for more fun. The farther I moved, the more my stomach muscles constricted and cramped. Walking upright was increasingly difficult. I staggered first to one side, then the other. Still, I lumbered on, bumping into trees as I went. My eyes struggled to focus when I smelled something burning. No, my eyes weren’t fuzzy; my eyelids were drooping uncontrollably. I was entering the early stages of ptosis.My nostrils caught the burning smell that had to mean somebody else was out here. That or I was experiencing another symptom I hadn’t learned about yet. The scent had a disgustingly sweet bite to it, like somebody was cooking a slab of meat, but with the hair still on it. I tripped on an exposed root and fell into a small clearing. A disorderly camp, well used from longer-term dwelling, lay before me. A pile of stones stood about a meter high with smoke billowing up. It made me think of an old-fashioned altar for burnt offerings. The cooking smell had been from some unfortunate animal that was lying on top of it. It looked to be either a goat or dog. All that was left was the skin blackened with fire and that sharp smell of burned hair. The heat-stretched face of the animal gave no clues as to its identity, because all its teeth were missing.My muscles spasmed and I curled into the fetal position. Then I became aware of somebody over me, speaking in a language I hadn’t heard in a long time. It was one of the old languages from before the wars, before English had come to dominate our tongue. I only understood part of it. Even the words I should have recognized were of a different dialect and were difficult to put together. Then the voice addressed me, as only a longtime smoker could. With raspy accusation, and still somehow amused, she said, “You’s spek Engish? You’s bited by dark kin eater. I is waited for you long time. Come, I fixin you up.”I tried to lift my head; I could scarcely make out the woman. She had feathers growing on her. No that wasn’t right—she was wearing a shawl made of feathers.“Come on!” she demanded. “You want die like dis?”Somehow I forced myself into a crouching stand and half ran after her. I felt myself falling forward as I entered her hut, but could do nothing to stop my fall. When she leaned over me and looked into my face, I could see that she wasn’t nearly as old as she sounded, not much older than forty. And then there was her shawl. I had to crane my head up to see from under my drooping eyelids. It didn’t just have feathers sewn into it. It was a shawl made from the hide of a large bird, unnaturally dyed black. A small cord pierced its lifeless eye sockets and tied where the beak should have been, holding the feathered cloak around her neck.Everything I saw from there seemed to spin in a dizzy blur. She was a witch. The world around me darkened with each motionless twist of my vision. As I slipped into blackness, I hoped that she’d save me. I hoped it, almost as much as I feared what would happen to me if she did save me.Click here to read Chapter 15Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

Okay, so up till now, I've been releasing these chapters as I finish the audio podcast recording of them. What I've learned, is that I will never get this released in time if I keep this up.

I'll keep reading and recording them, but the actual audio recording, for those of you following along that way, are not going to be released at the same frequency as these chapters. This should hopefully allow me to release 3 chapters per week, which has been my unfulfilled goal to this point.If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #14 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Download audio podcast here) (Chapter 13When I started school here in New Tum, my circumstances made an ignominious life impossible. Completely by chance I was facing an apartment full of other boys near my age. They were as different from me as stone is from air. There was no getting around it; I would have to learn to interact with others.These new roommates changed my life. I will forever be grateful to them, or at least to the circumstances that put us together. While I will always be Iddo, the clumsy fat boy who’s scared of his own nose, I now have the seeds of a backbone. Through these boys I learned to be an agent for myself, thus becoming truly independent. I earnestly plead my case to the public. If I can shrug off my former handicaps and opinions, then anyone can. The case of the hangman is wrong, and if you open your hearts, you too will see unethical evil in it. How can we punish someone who is saving the most innocent of lives and raising them in a community of love and family care?“Am I a Believer?” I scoffed at my new roommate. We seemed to be the only two in the apartment with anything in common. Even then and he accused me of being one of those weird religious fanatics. “Are you kidding? Do I look like one of those freaks?”Duy cast his eyes down. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that—”“You thought what?” My temper was hot, but as usual, it was simmering back down. I felt ridiculous for my forwardness. I didn’t know how to back down completely, though. If I did back down, then he’d know how big of a pushover I truly was. But even as I stood my ground, my knees shook and threatened to buckle. What a sap I was. One word from him and I’d melt into a pitiful lump of flesh.“I just thought,” he said meekly, “that we might have something more in common.”This time shock did buckle my knees. I almost fell, but aimed my rear to plop onto the futon nearest me. My tailbone smacked hard again. Just what I needed. Another thing to make me look ridiculous. “Y-you’re a Be-liever?” I stammered, trying hard not to let my pain miscommunicate some other message via my contorted face. I was suddenly afraid that, if he chose, one word really could magically melt my flesh.“Forget I mentioned it.”Yeah, right! “Uh . . .” My eyes darted from side to side. I needed to escape. But I had nowhere to go. Maybe I could sleep in the hall. No, that might offend him. Then I’d really be in trouble.He sighed. “I take it you’ve never actually met one of us before?”I shook my head.“I’m not going to cast some ridiculous spell on you, I promise. We don’t actually do that sort of thing. Whatever stories you’ve heard, they’re all wrong. I used to believe those same stories until proselytizers came to my town, too.”My mind flashed back to the hangman. He too had rumors circulating about him. They all painted him as some grim killer, reaping the souls of anyone who ventured into the woods. And yes, there was some truth to the myth about the giant, but there was much more to him than the stories depicted.“Would you care to hear me out? I’ll set the stories straight.”“N-no. I’m pretty b-busy right now.” That was a lie. Well, it was a half lie. I was about to find something to make me very busy.“Another time, then?”No! “Sure.” Stupid me. If Believers could brainwash people, then all my new roommate needed was a little time to talk with me. After all, if the hangman stories had some truth to them, there was likely some truth in the stories about Believers. What was I to do?“All right. I’ll look forward to getting to know you better, later,” Duy said with a little hint of meekness.I just nodded and followed my one foot that had already sneaked its way out the door. I nearly tripped on Jhon’s suitcase.As I caught my balance, I pulled my head up, slamming it into Thing Two’s nose. A torrent of profanities filled the hall, and I slid past him as he checked for blood. Once outside I squatted by the side of the building. My heart was thumping as loud as my heavy breathing. My face was red and my mind was drowning in a thick fog of regret. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw Thing One squatting next to me. His eyes were calmly trying to read mine.“Gee,” he said to me nonchalantly. “For a fat kid, you don’t sweat much.”I snorted a laugh. “Some good impression I made in there.”“Don’t sweat it. Thing Two had it coming. He’s fine, actually. He picks his nose so much, anyway, that he’s afraid any little bump will start it bleeding again. You probably bruised his finger more than his nose.”“Would you guess that my roommate is a Believer?”“I guess he’s got that look to him,” Thing One replied in his easygoing manner. “Why? Does that bother you?”“Wouldn’t it bother you?”“Engh—I’ve known enough Believers. Would you believe that they don’t really grow horns on their heads?”I laughed. “Of course they wouldn’t. Sure, I’ve heard that before, but even that sounded silly.” But even as I said this, I was remapping my vision of them. I actually had believed it just before now.Thing One reached down and grabbed my arm. For such a tall skinny guy, he was remarkably strong. He nearly lifted me off my feet before I had a chance to push myself up.Once I was back on my own two feet, he gave me a hard but reassuring slap on the back. It reminded me of the burping pat that Midnight had given me back in the woods. “Give your roommate a chance. You’ll see. I doubt he’s half as scary as you imagine.” He gave me a wink, like he knew more than he was letting on about.Then, just like that, Thing One was gone again. The walking bamboo pole of a roommate had really lifted my spirits. But I couldn’t go back inside the apartment just yet. My wounded pride was still too damaged to return and face the mess I’d created. Instead I paced aimlessly, trying to digest everything that happened. I had one roommate who, despite looking just like anyone else, was a Believer; two rich guys; and two clowns, one that I’d mildly wounded, and the other who seemed wiser and friendlier than his years.This all gave me a wonderful idea for my first story to write. What better way to ring in the new school year than with a news article about different people coming together and learning to live with one another? I would interview new students as they were settling into their apartments and get their takes on coping with new roommates. The only problem was, I’d left my pen and notepad in my apartment.Since going back inside was out of the question, I cautiously approached the large main waste bin in the parking lot. The bin had been emptied prior to everyone arriving, but the stained asphalt below still reeked of waste from weeks past. In a haste to clear out space, the last occupants must have overfilled the square container. I found a used notepad that had either been hastily thrown or fallen from the pile, landing on the ground next to the dumpster. Its cover was smeared with something gooey, but it still had three good unused pages, and I ripped them out. Then I tipped the used portion of the notepad into the small but growing pile of waste. All I needed now was something to write with.In the main lobby of the apartment complex, I borrowed a pen that was used for signing contracts or writing maintenance notes. I then made a mental note to carry a pad and pen with me at all times. If I was to be the campus journalist, I must be prepared for any possible articles to write about when the opportunity arose.Walking to the side of the complex, opposite my living space, I passed up on several potential interviewees until I found someone less intimidating than the majority of the people. By unintimidating I mean that he was alone, not busy doing anything, unattractive, and reeking of insecurity. Not much different from me, I realized.I tried to make his acquaintance. He acquiesced to a degree, but when I pressed him for any details on his roommates, he squirmed. His face darkened with anxiety and his eyes seemed to look at everything but me. After stammering for a minute, he hinted at being very busy and had to go. Strike one. Nothing from him.I was a miffed. Was that how I came across to others, also? If I was to get any quality commentary, I would need to interview students with better people skills. I would need to develop those people skills. How else was I to interview someone who intimidated me? What kind of job had I gotten myself into?For the next three hours, I met with students. Boys and girls. Rich and poor. The first hour was difficult, but as I got my questions better organized in my head, the task became easier. Around ten in the evening, I returned to my apartment. What had earlier started out as a fear-filled project had morphed into an exciting study of people. Duy and the two rich boys were getting ready for bed. The two Things were out for the moment.I had little desire to sleep. My mind was spinning with the excitement of the article I was to write. My studies in journalism had taught me that the best stories were written while the fervor of the moment was still fresh and exciting. By midnight I’d finished. I called it “A Kitchen of Souls.”The morning had started out fine. I did oversleep a little. My foot caught in my bedsheet as I stumbled to the door. My roommates were already up and getting ready for the day. All of them, that is, except for Thing Two. Which was fine with me; I wasn’t ready to confront him yet. A quick brush of my teeth, a look in the mirror to remind myself that I still was fat and in need of a haircut, followed by a visit to the toilet. One toilet, six of us to a dorm, and one of the boys had a spray nozzle instead of a jet stream. I would have to remember to either wear shoes to the toilet each time, or come prepared with a mop.On my way out the door, I scraped the burned crust of rice from last night’s rice pot, and sprinkled a little sugar on it before bounding out the door. Not a healthy breakfast, but no diet I knew of could transform my body into the pinnacle of fitness. So, big deal. Besides, I had to drop off my “A Kitchen of Souls” article to the paper before I went to school.My editor hated it—a response I later learned was typical from him. Though, in this case, it might have been true. If I’d stuck it out another couple years in journalism school, I might have learned what this job later taught me. Every article is rubbish. The single biggest difference between a bad article and a good one is the commission I’m able to negotiate with my publisher. So by that standard, this first article of mine was lacking considerably.The reduced commission my articles garnered went into a fund that would be paid out every two weeks. I would have to contribute at least one article per day if I was to make enough money just to survive. Even if I contributed two articles per day, my budget would be lean. Besides, I didn’t think my publisher would be happy if their newest student reporter contributed little to their periodicals. Not only that, but no more morning drops. I would have to have all my articles in by ten the evening before if I hoped to get paid for the next day’s printing.I had just enough time to look at the school’s events board so I could line up a list of possible articles for the coming month. “Don’t forget,” my publisher had reminded me. “You need to predict the future. People don’t want to read so much about what happened yesterday, they want to know what’s happening today.” I scribbled down the activities that were posted and made a mental note to check the computer lab later to see if anything more was posted online.My first classes of the morning were discouraging. Most every student had already been prepped for years in biology and pre-medical classes. I was starting at the dummy end, and the depth of the topics already threatened to drown me. I would be required to spend many hours above the normal workload just to catch up to the beginning.I did have an hour for lunch before my next round of classes. I used the time to eat two bananas and write a rough draft of an article about the first day of classes. Yes, this would be an article about yesterday by the time it got published, but I hadn’t gotten into the swing of things yet. The events board had mentioned some welcoming activities that would be starting tomorrow. Following my afternoon classes, I would need to find and interview somebody about them. I would then prepare a second article to deliver later tonight. Somewhere between or after that, I needed to find time to study and do homework. This was not going to be easy.By ten thirty that night, I’d returned from the publishing house and was nodding over a textbook in the corner of my room. In the background, I heard a toilet flush and the sink run for a minute. The next bob of my head revealed Duy, still drying his hands on his pants. He was looking down, first at my textbook then at me, as if trying to decide something.“You’re new to the medical field, aren’t you?” he ventured with some hesitancy.My heavy eyelids hid my weary discomfort at talking to the Believer. I nodded but figured that the gesture looked little different from the sleepy nod I’d been doing for the last fifteen minutes. “I’ve got some catching up to do.”“What did you study before this?”“Creative writing.” I placed the textbook down, spine up, using the floor as a bookmark. I looked back down at the massive hardback and realized I couldn’t remember a thing I’d just read. With dreamy frustration, I placed my pudgy fingers on the spine and lifted the book off the floor. Its pages clapped together. No sense in saving my place if I just had to read it all over again.“I know this must be hard for you, and maybe I’m not the right person for it.” He hesitated.I lifted my nose out of my own misty thoughts and studied my roommate. What could he be getting at?“I know you aren’t too keen on associating with Believers. Frankly, I don’t blame you, with all the stupid rumors that go around about us.” His shoulders shrugged up, and his eyebrows lifted. “But if you’d like a tutor, I’d be more than willing to help you get caught up.”Thing One’s counsel echoed in the back of my head. “Why would you do that for me?”“It’s part of what I believe. I want to be able to serve my neighbors. As a roommate, you’re kinda the closest neighbor I have. Besides, if we’re going to be living together, I’d rather do so on friendly terms.”I thought for a moment. I might be able to get by without a tutor. But I was so busy, it might help. Or would it just prove to be another distraction, further setting me behind? I’d never studied with anyone else before. How would that even work out? “Okay, just one thing—”Duy tilted his head as if to emphasize his attention.“I don’t have any desire to be converted as a Believer. No proselytizing strings attached, if you get my meaning.”Duy smiled. “It’s a deal. I’ll help tutor you, and you won’t run away each time I come into the room.”I blushed. “I didn’t run away.”Duy smiled and softly punched my arm. “You know what I mean.”The next several weeks found me busier than I’d ever been in my life. I was cranking out two stories per day for the paper, going full time to school, studying and doing homework, then spending an hour with Duy each day as he helped me understand all the things that were still foreign to me. Maybe it was these tutor sessions that did it, or maybe it was my job exerting its ever more powerful influence. I was getting so used to asking questions, especially of him, that when my curiosity got the better of me, I didn’t realize what I was doing until I’d done it.“Do you guys really do magic?”I half expected him to give me a spat of feigned contempt for being an indolent stereotyper. Instead he just cast his eyes down in a contemplative look, neither confirming nor denying. Gently resting his hands on his knees, he brought his gaze up to meet mine. He was just about to answer when Jhon burst through the door.“Party tonight. You two coming?”I had too much studying to do. But could I afford not to go? After all, I was the campus life representative for the paper. My job almost demanded that I be involved.“There’ll be girls,” he added with mock seduction in his voice.I didn’t have time for flirting. Not that I’d be any good at it, anyway. But, “Sure, I’ll go. When?”“Half an hour. What about you, Duy?”Duy was not going to go. What little I’d learned of him so far was that he was a teetotaler. His beliefs demanded it of him. I had little experience, but a college party seemed no place for avoiding vices. As for women, I doubted that he’d ever think of kissing a girl until after he’d been married for five years.The more I learned of Believers, the more I realized that they had strict moral and health rules to follow. There was almost something enviable in the degree of self-control they possessed. Maybe that’s why my eyes flew wide open with surprise when he blurted, “Yeah, that sounds like fun!”I decided not to let him know, but I wanted to study this Believer in a real social setting. Up until then I’d learned that Believers professed to acknowledge the same Christ as most Christians, but they held stricter tenets than the other denominations.I still hadn’t figured out what their special ceremonies were all about. To be honest, I’d learned less about them than I’d hoped. True, I’d grown more comfortable being in the same room with Duy. Maybe that’s how they started working on you.“Way to go,” said Jhon. “Hey Charles, we’re bringing our own Believer!”From another room, I heard Charles reply, “Just don’t let him curse me when I’m talking to the pretties.”Jhon laughed, “You couldn’t pay a pretty nearly enough to talk to you!” He then slapped the hollow-core door in amusement, his head shaking as he left our room.“Could you really put a curse on somebody?” I asked.“I don’t know, maybe.”“So you guys do practice magic?”“Well, not so much magic.” Duy hesitated, almost afraid that I too would scorn him. “It’s more like God’s power, delegated to us. We have to be worthy, and have really good faith. We use it to perform ceremonies and to heal the sick. I’ve heard of cursings but never really known anything about them. It’s not something we generally do.”“So do you have this power?”“Yeah, I guess so.”I slid forward. Weird. I probably should have scooted back from him. But my curiosity was piqued. “Could you show me? Something small, you know, nothing crazy, just—could you make this book float in the air?” I held out my textbook.He shook his head. “I’m sure some could, but it doesn’t really work like that. The power isn’t meant to be used for show. You know, I’m not too comfortable talking about this. I’m going to get ready for the party.”“I didn’t think you would actually go.”“Just because I’m a Believer doesn’t mean I’m dead!”I slunk back. "Sorry, I didn't mean that you were, well, I just sort of thought-""Ah, you're fine Iddo. You're strung up too tight. You need to learn to relax a little.""Yeah, well, no better time than now, right?" I half laughed. "Let's go."The party was everything I’d imagined it to be, meaning that it wasn’t meant for someone like me. Duy and Thing Two paired up and navigated the crowd like they’d done this before. They were instantly popular. Funny, but they were the last two I thought would pair up or be popular. This mostly because Thing Two was not an attractive sort, even if he loved the riotous lifestyle. Alcohol, drugs, sex seemed to all fit into his brand of a good time, though I hadn’t ever seen him participating in any of those. If this truly was his nature, how did Duy’s chaste and abstinent nature complement the party hawk? Maybe Thing Two was using Duy. Even with his good looks, Duy would be little competition among the ladies. Maybe he’d make Thing Two look good by giving the appearance of having already made friends. Like they say, you’ve got to have money to make money—or, in this case, friends.I noticed that though Thing One hadn’t come, there were some remarkable differences between the two roommates. Thing One was still peppy and active, but he seemed smarter or wiser than Thing Two. He wasn’t the type that would be taken by the vices that Thing Two hoped to find. I almost wondered how they got along so well. Maybe one day I’d ask him. I felt like I could talk to him. Thing Two always radiated a macho attitude, and I didn’t think I could have asked him about anything deeper than a raindrop.At least Jhon and Charles didn’t abandon me at the party. We stayed huddled together at the entrance, watching Thing Two make his rounds.“That guy’s got some balls,” Charles stated. We just shook our heads as we watched him put his arm around an insanely attractive girl with silky smooth hair and movie star looks that complimented her movie star motions. All three of us caught ourselves leaning to watch. We righted ourselves without saying a word. But wow! Beautiful would have been too sweet to describe her. I couldn't help but compare her to Midnight. Midnight was beautiful in a common sort of way, a more down to Earth beauty.This girl on the other hand was really working the field. She was dressed to make men drool. I knew she was only a year or two older than me, but her makeup added at least five more years, not to mention five hundred feet of razor-wire fashion fence between us. But Thing Two had no problem scaling those defenses and getting her to smile. To his credit, he didn’t linger, he just winked at her and moved on to the next.“It looks like he’s going to get every hot girl pining over him before the night is over,” Jhon commented.“I’m going to check out the food table,” I said. That seemed like a safe place in this shuffle of bodies. I expected Charles and Jhon to follow, but they didn’t. I wanted to turn around and stay with them, but I’d already committed myself.Loud music drowned out the hum of voices all around. The mingling crowd was like a thick cloud composed of human flesh and I had to squeeze through, rather than around, them. How could anyone even think in a room like this, let alone hold a conversation? At the table I found the condiments already picked clean. Apparently, food was not to be the main draw for this party. I filled a cup with some blue punch, only to find it burning my throat all the way down. I’d never tasted spiked anything. My mother wouldn’t allow it at home. She hadn’t even let my father drink at home. When he did drink, he’d come home tipsy and sometimes angry. I didn’t want to see what I’d turn into if I got drunk. It would probably be newsworthy.I put the cup down and looked around. Charles and Jhon had made their way into a crowd of their own. They’d waited for a good chance to break away from me, and I’d given them a prime opportunity without even knowing. At least that’s the way I saw it. In a room that would have been overcrowded with under twenty people, I was alone competing for space with at least fifty, and more on the way.Though there were several fluid groups of people, most had only one or two main participants with the others flinging in their approvals. None of these active participants had anything interesting to say. Some of them held their group’s attention by expressive gestures, others by the mere beauty of their bodies. Every group I tried to enter, I felt that people were judging me, wondering who I was and why I thought I should even be there.Before I realized what I’d done, I found myself shimming between two people and out the front door. The warm night air felt cool and refreshing compared to the stuffy hive I’d just emerged from. I lingered for a few minutes, attempted to start a conversation with a girl, but quickly lost her and found myself in the company of another guy who felt just as uncomfortable as I did. But I would rather spend the night alone than with somebody like me, so I fibbed a little, told him I was only here for a minute, and that I had other engagements to go to. I then walked back to my apartment.In my empty room, I tried to do homework or write an article recounting my observations at the party. But my social failure scraped bitterly against my chest. I couldn’t feel included there, and I couldn’t keep my mind off it here. Part of me wanted to go back and give it another try, but I’d already told one person that I had another engagement. Would the others know that I’d ditched out, only to crawl back as a pathetic loser? I didn’t know. All I did know was that I was not going back. I’d have to do better next time. I should have observed Thing Two more closely to learn how he mingled. But I was no Thing Two. Even if I emulated his actions, I doubted I could pull it off.I lay down on my bed and tried to sleep. Hours crept by. I must have fallen asleep because one instant I was alone, then, after I blinked, Duy was pulling off his clothes and flopping into his bed.“How was the party?” I asked him.“Ungh,” he grunted.I was surprised to notice that he smelled badly of rum. Did he not realize the punch was spiked? “I thought you didn’t drink?”“Doen judje me. Ye’re aways judjin me, Gaud’s judjin me, eveyone’s judjin me,” he slurred before getting up and tripping to the bathroom. I listened to his pitiful heaving in the other room. He must not have completely emptied his sour stomach, because he didn’t come back into the bedroom. I fell asleep.In the morning, I went to the bathroom to shower. Showering was a luxury I looked forward to. Back home, we just used a bucket of water to clean ourselves with. But these campus apartments had real showers with warm water. Stepping into the bathroom I flicked on the light. I was immediately assaulted by the smell of bile. There was Duy, resting in a crusty pool of vomit that glued his hair to the floor. With a groan of agony, he curled his legs up into a ball at the base of the toilet. He must’ve passed out there last night. I held my breath, afraid the putrid stench would ruin my appetite for breakfast, then I turned the light off. I could wait till evening to shower.In the kitchen Thing One was eating warm rice with a saccharine salt-pickled cabbage. With it was a red, sticky sweet-and-spicy sausage. That happened to be my favorite breakfast food. Being the typically perceptive guy he was, Thing One offered me a full serving of the meal and added, “Poor Duy.” He wasn’t so much sympathizing with Duy as he was with me. “You know it can’t be easy for him.”“What do you mean?”“Did you know that his religion believes in Christian apostles?”“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”“Five years ago, two of their apostles died in America. They came back to life after three days. Some say it was that healing voodoo stuff they did on them. Others claim that they just went into a very deep coma that made detecting their heart rate nearly impossible. Some medications can do that. Whatever the reason, those two apostles woke up and went on as if nothing had happened.”“And your point being?”“Iddo, you really have been living under a rock. Every Christian-based religion interprets scripture differently, but they all have something that tells of this prophecy, and the Believers claimed that this was the fulfillment of it. That two of their apostles or prophets would die in Jerusalem, then come back to life before the Rapture.”“I’ve never heard that. Besides, Jerusalem isn’t in America.”“Some say that a New Jerusalem might be established in America, but that’s not the point. The point is, when that happened, they all thought that Christ would be coming back to Earth. It’s been five years and nothing’s happened. The Believers aren't only ridiculed by everyone not of their religion, but they're finding it increasingly difficult to believe in their own teachings themselves. I’m just saying, be easy on him. I hate to see him stumble from his beliefs. He really is a good guy. We just need to be there for him if he needs us. One of these days, he’ll see his folly, and he might need a friend to help him back up.”I hadn’t noticed it in myself, but Thing One had seen the disappointment in my face. I actually felt disappointed that Duy hadn’t been true to the commitments his faith demanded. “How do you know so much about these Believers?”But in typical Thing One fashion, he just tossed the last piece of meat into his mouth and slapped me once hard on the back. “You’re a good man, Iddo.” Then, grabbing his books, he left the house.Again, that slap on the back brought back memories of Midnight. I pushed the thought away, along with the urge to burp. Nobody had ever called me a man before, let alone a good man. I felt inadequate for the title, but I wanted to be that man. Of everyone I’d met so far in my life, I wanted to be like Thing One. Then it hit me. One of these days, I should learn his real name.Click here to read Chapter 14Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #13 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Download audio podcast here) (Chapter 12Like a dog returns to its vomit, so too did I return to mine. Funny how progressing toward our goals can take us right back to where we started. I knew sacrifice was required to reach my dreams. I suppose that I can thank my father for giving me the experience I would need. Ironically, had I not fallen back to journalism, I might not be able to write this supplication. If you believe in divine destiny, or even the gentle prodding’s of a higher power, then maybe you can accept my supplication to be of credible value as I plea for Daddy Smiling’s case.Finding my school was easy. That first day after the rains, where I emerged from the woods, I found myself to be only five kilometers away from the school. On-campus dormitories were available but not free. The real struggle was finding a job that could support me.While my hometown did have many schools, this new city dwarfed anything I had to compare it with. Not that the city was big, because it was anything but. It’s just that, the school was much more dominant. My hometown was filled with the usual go-to-work, try-to-survive families. Schooling was a part of that, but more of an afterthought for most people. Here, the non-school-attending locals were obsessed with the academic environment. They attended everything from special lectures to sporting events. The schools in my town didn’t even have a sports team. Here, casual talk on the street or in the shops revolved around the schools. One day of job hunting was enough to show me that the college dominated the city’s culture.That night, still alone in my dormitory, while sucking clean a bowl of instant noodles, I reflected on my day. Like me, most people who attended were not from around here. In my first day of job seeking, I’d developed a pessimistic outlook on my prospects. Against the entire new class of students, I was competing for only a handful of jobs.After dropping my bowl in the sink, I got ready for bed. At least I had two things going for me. First, I’d arrived on campus before the majority of the other new students. Second was . . . well I, didn’t want to think about my second advantage. I bent over, resting my head in my palms. No use denying it though. I couldn’t think of any alternatives. I would make use of my second advantage. At least I would try. After all, I couldn't just ignore all my previous schooling. Nobody here was studying journalism. Careful not to smack my tailbone on the hard plywood that supported the bottom of my futon mattress, I eased under a single sheet, exhaled loudly and tried to justify my dirty resolve.Early the next morning, I half-heartedly pulled on a shirt and pants. Apparently, even near the dorms, there were enough chickens to make an early riser out of even the most drowsy. Next, I counted my money. The weight of the coins felt good. I rolled them into my pocket with the rest of my money. It wasn’t much and it would disappear far too quickly. But I had to make the sacrifice. Still early morning, before the humid air got muggy and hot, I left my room and walked onto the campus. Few people were milling about and I was totally lost. Not wanting to waste my whole morning exploring, I walked up to a man with dull black hair, bushy against his round pockmarked face. Wearing the traditional blue coverall uniform of a custodian, he was emptying trash bins from the day before. The smell of garbage mingled with his cheap aftershave. Amazing how every smell is so distinct in the morning. “I need to find the school store,” I said to him.“And I need to find a wife, a better house, and a job that doesn’t smell like rotten bananas,” he replied in a slow and groggy drawl.Whoops, I’d found a grump on my first try. I looked around, not sure how to respond. Then I heard him chuckle.“You new guys are all the same. I’m just giving you a hard time.”I choked a laugh.“Just head down two more buildings over there.” He pointed, then hacked several times before spitting into the open garbage sack that he was about to heft. Wiping his lips on his sleeve, he added, “It’s just on the main floor, right smack in the middle of the students’ center.” Then as if to punctuate, he smacked his lips with a satisfied grin before returning to his duties.I was about ten feet away when he called out, “You’re a bit early. They won’t be open yet.”“Okay,” was all I could think to say as I dipped my head in acknowledgment. In the back of my mind, I could almost see myself through his eyes. If I was to get the job today, I would have to try my best not to look like my usual insecure self, afraid of my own shadow.I was in a new place. Nobody knew me. I could have a fresh start.When I arrived at the school store, the shop was closed, true to the janitor’s word. Not only was it closed, but it wouldn’t open for another three hours. If I waited for the shop to open, my morning would be nearly spent before I applied for a single job. This had better work.To kill the next few hours, I wandered the campus. The buildings were old but well maintained. The institutional tan paint on cinder and concrete walls of the old buildings radiated an established dignity. The new buildings that had replaced the rubble from the wars were sleek with black glass walls and modern interior finishes. I could only assume that this institution had been around before the wars that decimated the region.Granted, the wars hadn’t been a disaster for the whole world. But for some reason, the big players in the global struggle all wanted to stage their attacks on our soil instead of their own. We hadn’t been part of the war until both sides of the conflict found us to be a strategic staging ground. After seeing the destruction that came about because of the engagements, I don’t blame the enemies or the victors for wanting to let someone else live with the aftermath. To us, both sides ended up being our enemies.Maybe I’m a little harsh. Some money did flow back into our countries from both the English allies and the Chinese. Whatever this school had once been, because of the sympathies of those once warring nations, the college was now something that I figured could rival any Western university.I’ve heard that in America, students don’t start college until they are eighteen or nineteen years old. My birthday was in a week, and I would be sixteen years old when my classes actually started. If I'd stayed home, my next two years of journalism school would have counted as college credit.Here I was starting pre-med. Without any medical background, this would be a busy year or two of playing catch up. Then of course, I’d have two more years of heavy medical instruction. At the end of that, I could find a job as a paid intern. Still there’d be courses above that, but the goal was to survive until I could gain that paid internship.I’ve wondered if Americans start college on a higher plane than we do, or if we just learn more quickly than them, thereby excusing us from the two extra years of pre-college education. Or when I graduate, will I have an inferior education? No, we were still on par with them. At least I hoped we were. If not, there was nothing I could do about it except keep moving forward, doing the best my circumstances would allow.Finally, the school store opened and I went in. My precious, carefully budgeted expenditure went toward the crisp, new red-and-blue T-shirt, blazoned across the front with “T.U.M.” Obviously, this was a play on New Tum’s name. Not only was it the name of the district, but it was the abbreviation for the school, Tum University Mandrills. Mandrills don’t live around here, but someone must have thought that the baboon made for an intimidating mascot.Wasting no time, I pulled off my old soft shirt and tugged this stiff new shirt over my head as I ambled off campus. It made my back itch, even after I ripped off the sharp tag.Clothed in my new flag, I was prepared to show off my patriotic fervor for the only topic that seemed to matter to the majority of townsfolk here. I stopped only briefly at the front doors of my final destination. At least I hoped it would be my final destination. If I couldn’t find a job here, I didn’t know what I might do.The old newspaper publisher, like so many others, had long since added electronic distribution to its platform. From the outside, though, the building still looked like a distressed newspaper printer. Granted, they did continue to have print material in circulation. My guess was that their print was still more read than their electronic journal. Anyone who had an electronic mobile device would be using that for their news now. But I didn’t have one, nor did many of the people I knew.The building displayed several layers of red paint, generations of coatings, now nearly all peeled off. At only one story tall, the structure was fairly wide, and very deep. I imagined hearing the whirring gray paper as it raced through rollers of ink and knives. I could imagine the folding and stamping of bands where the daily stories would be bundled and plopped on a pallet for delivery. If journalism was as simple and innocent as this, I might not mind it so much. Decent work, informative articles, nothing wrong with that. Yes, I could have probably continued in this field if not for all the bias and corruption that influenced those finger-staining pages.As I caught my breath and tried to dry my sweaty palms, I brushed my hand against another sales tag from my new shirt. How’d I miss that one? I tried to tug it out but the plastic punch threatened to tear my shirt. So I changed my style. Tucking the shirt, tag and all, into my pants, I inspected myself in the reflective glass of the front door. Not bad. Maybe even an improvement. I might have to tuck in my shirts more often. One more lungful and I pushed my way through the door. The rusty hinges made a terrible shriek, announcing my arrival.After returning to my dorm, I skipped dinner and went directly to my room and plopped myself onto my futon. I smacked my tailbone hard and bit my lip to hold back a curse. After rubbing my pour backside, I stared up at the ceiling. The dirty white plaster seemed to suggest that this room had once been flipped. The ceiling gave the worn impression that it had been walked on for years before being elevated off the floor. As my eyes lost focus on the world around me, my mind drifted to replay my interview at the publishing office. I had been successful. The job was mine. It didn’t pay as well as I'd like, but this was a college town, and I was told that no other job would even come close to the commissions that I could make.I was now the newest liaison for the New District Times. My articles would focus entirely on campus life. I would write for the paper’s print and electronic circulars about everything from ball games to campus politics. Every year this job was given to an ambitious student, and my previous schooling in journalism had set me apart from most other applicants the publisher was used to getting. It didn’t hurt either, that I was the first person this school year to apply.For the next week, I had the dorm all to myself. On Saturday, my sixteenth birthday, I was filled with anticipation. Not because I would get any special treatment or gifts, but I was getting something. Five of them actually. Three of which would significantly influence my life. On this weekend before school started, my five roommates arrived. Two of them came together. They’d obviously been friends for some time. They didn’t give me their real names, they just called themselves Thing One and Thing Two, inspired I suppose after the popular Dr. Seuss book, The Cat in The Hat. They strolled in as if they’d always lived here. I felt somewhat threatened by these two things, and couldn’t tell if they would be nice or rude.Thing One was my complete opposite. Tall, skinny, he had all the good looks. His friend, Thing Two, was a little more on the heavy side, with acne and a thick curly mess of hair that might never be tamed."Hi, I'm Iddo," I said, hoping that I displayed a sense of confidence. It was hard since I was at least two years younger.They both studied me as if I were a lab rat. Truth be told, they almost looked surprised to see me. Thing Two stepped forward, then grabbed my face. "Unbelievable!" He turned to Thing One, "This is going to be so great! All this time—wow. This is going to be different this time, you'll see."Thing One sighed, "We've gone over this. You can't change what you did. Just worry about who you are right now. Remember, what happened last time. You made your choices. Just focus on who you are now, and where you want to be when this is all over."Thing Two let go of my face. He made me so uncomfortable. I wanted to squirm. It felt like both of them knew me, but I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Then Thing one approached, "Iddo, it’s nice to meet you. Please forgive Thing Two. You could say he's not exactly himself today."Thing Two's stifled laugh sounded like a snort."Okay," I said, very unsure about what had just happened. Maybe they weren't both rude. Perhaps neither of them were. Maybe my social immaturity was responsible for my unease and I simply didn't know how to respond to the situation properly. I could have just reminded them of somebody else they did know. In any case, they didn’t feel like splitting up. I was okay with that.Of the three rooms in our dorm, they chose to bunk together in one of the rooms. I almost wondered, from the way they'd talked, if they'd done something really bad, and were now hiding under those ridiculous fake names. Who were these two, really?The next two boys to come in were from well-to-do families. Their parents brought them in their own personal cars. I’d never known anybody who owned a car. Well, that’s wrong. Krystal’s dad owned an old Mercedes. But these looked like nice new cars. The white and blue paint glistened so pristinely that I wouldn’t be surprised if the owners polished the things every day. Even the tires shone as if coated with high-gloss clear paint. I understood that these two guys probably had more in common with each other than they might with me. And yes, they did seem nice enough, but I still felt rejected when they chose to bunk together in the second free bedroom. They introduced themselves as Charles and Jhon.The last guy to arrive came with humble belongings. This was to be my roommate. His clothing was faded and patched. His boots had obviously been re-soled, probably more than once. I could tell, because they'd lost their shape. Just like mine, the leather was soft and too rounded. It looked like it was only a month or so away from wearing a hole in any number or spots. Still, his hair was trimmed neatly and with his charming smile and perfect skin, he’d be catching a lot of looks from the girls. That is, if he had a winning personality to go with it. Then again, he might not even need the social skills with a face like that. The only ornament he wore was a small ring with what looked like a green coat of arms. I knew I’d seen its match elsewhere, but I couldn’t remember where.“I’m Duy, from the Ubon Province.”“Sorry, I’ve never heard of it. My name is Iddo. I’m from just the other side of the woods down there.” I pointed in the direction of my home.“Wow, you came through the woods?”I nodded.“That’s not something I’d dare hike. Our town is just about fifty kilometers northwest of here. It nestles right up against those same woods, but you won’t find me taking a stroll too deep into them.”“You like it there?” I asked.“Yeah. It’s not a bad place. A little poor, but we’re generally happy. By the way, are you a Believer?”End of Chapter 12Thanks for reading. Remember to comment on anything you liked or that you think should be fixed.Click here to read Chapter 13Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #12 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Download audio podcast here) (Chapter 11Utopian society is often envisioned as a hub of wealth and prosperity. It is a place where neighbors come together in the best interests of one another. It is a place unburdened by crime, social injustice, and disease. After my brief stay with the children of the woods, I am compelled to amend my vision of utopia. They had no monetary wealth, but they were wealthy in friendship. Mothers and fathers were the only stations held that offered any degree of respect. They all looked out for one another. The better traits of childlike innocence never seemed to leave them and the hangman was at their head, inspiring them to follow the higher path. They were of one heart and one mind.I never saw disease, though I’m sure they experienced it. I have a feeling that even when hard times hit, this band of children would only come together in unity to help one another even more. Their culture was one of kindness and caring. Every single one of them had been abandoned as either an infant or a toddler, rejected by those who should have loved them unconditionally. Yet they had developed a culture of their own, separate from the whole world. A world we should be so lucky to find.Streaks of morning sun curtained through the misty trees at angles that revealed the sun’s rising position. I trudged on, setting course by this natural compass before the day burned it away. Northeast for only a few hundred yards and already the incredible community of orphans was hidden from both sight and sound. If the sun was up higher, or if I looked very closely, I might have been able to spot an old footprint in the ground. I suspected that by the time the sun was blazing overhead, I’d be far enough away that even those impressions would be rare.I was glad to be on my way, but even the tune of the early-rising songbirds did little to lift my soul. I knew that I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t afford to delay my journey. I needed a real job, so that I could stay in school.Lack of sleep wasn’t the only reason my feet dragged. In the last sixteen hours or so, I’d found a sense of happiness that I’d never known. There were people my own age who didn’t judge me by my appearance or social skills. Then there was Midnight. My first impression of her hadn't been all that remarkable, but as I remembered her last good-bye, I saw the most beautiful girl I’d ever known. That beautiful image with the long black ponytail and genuine smile replaced all other impressions from the day before.She was kind, gentle, and perfect. I would be a fool to take her with me, but I’d also be a fool to stay. As I walked my feet kept pausing. Part because I was tired, part, I might as well admit, was because of Midnight. Why was it so difficult to resist the urge to turn around and sweep her into my arms and carry her off with me? I'd never do it, of course. That was just a foolish imagination of a daydreaming boy. I can’t even image what she really thought of me. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know. Instead, I just kept pushing my way through the woods.Even if my head wasn't just caught up in the clouds, I was never one to be so bold, and nothing I knew could change that in me. Besides, deep down, I knew that I wasn’t in love with her. I’d only known her for a matter of hours. True love is something of fairy tales, not practical in the real world. But she didn’t live in the real world. Maybe she'd see nothing wrong with it, or with me. But I would. I did live in the real world. A few hours in Neverland could never change that for me.The farther I hiked under the canopy of trees, the more I knew that I'd never see her or the others again. I didn’t know how the hangman could do it; there were no landmarks to find one’s way. You'd have to know every single tree, shrub, and rock of these woods to navigate. Oh, to have a GPS device that I could mark their location with! Something to help me find my way back someday. As it was, I didn’t even know where I would pop out of the woods. I knew that if I kept walking to the northeast, I’d eventually find my way out. If I came out where I hoped, I'd only be about twenty kilometers from the city where my schooling would take place. But that was only if I exited the woods at the perfect spot. Before I’d left, I would have considered myself lucky if I came out within forty kilometers of my destination.I clawed at my memory, trying to remember the aerial image I'd seen of this place on my last day of school. I couldn’t recall ever seeing the small lake that the hangman camped by. But it had been over a month since I'd seen that fuzzy layout of the land from who knows how many kilometers above the sky. When I was following him yesterday, I was only aware that I was going deeper into the woods. In my stupor, I didn’t pay enough attention to the direction we’d gone. It had felt like the right direction, but for all I knew, I was so far off course that I’d have to walk an extra hundred kilometers once I emerged.So much green. It even hid most of the brown trunks of trees, either by moss, vine, or simply by overwhelming it with so many shades of the one color. The foliage above and in front hid everything in my path. Occasionally I’d crest a hill, but it was never tall enough to survey the land beyond. I pressed on anyway. With no real trails to follow and only the rare clearing to illuminate the position of the sun for reference, I wondered if I might just be going in circles. I’d heard of this happening before. Nighttime was only a few hours away. Maybe I’d find myself back in the orphans’ camp after all.Two more hours of hiking put the sun clearly at my back. I’d been successful in keeping a steady direction, but I thought I should be nearing the edge of the woods by now. Then again, how would I know until I actually emerged. As dense as this jungle was, I could be less than a hundred meters from civilization and not even realize it.Stopping, I listened hard, hoping to hear any signs of a city just beyond the looming trees. I could hear a faint whistle coming from my throat and some invisible rodents as they scurried through the underbrush around me. A large colorful bird ruffled its feathers above my head, oblivious to my presence. There were no sounds of cars or people, though.After one more hour of blistered walking, I gave up and set up camp. I wanted to start a fire, but I’d pushed myself too far for the day. Once I’d slumped down onto my butt, I couldn’t bring myself to stand again. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a water bottle and a bag of what was now stale Spanish rolls. The bread was dry but satisfying. I rationed the last of my food. I could have easily devoured everything I’d brought. This hike had famished me, but I wanted to put something in my belly when morning came, before I continued my walk. Hopefully this would be my last night out here. I wasn’t like Chirp-chirp. Even Grub might know how to find food in the forest, but I’d likely poison myself with the first berry or fruit I came across.Without a blanket or a tent, I fell asleep with my head on my bundle of clothing. I woke once with a shiver. I'd only slept for an hour or two. I was cold, something I rarely felt in this perpetually hot and humid climate, and I had to pee. Relieved, I unpacked my clothing and layered it on myself to keep warm.I lay down again, but sleep came slower this time. After having slept so little the night before, followed by my muscle-draining hike earlier today, I knew I should sleep soundly. But there was something about being alone, unsure of exactly where I was. The noises were disturbing. The silences were more so. The extra layers of clothing didn’t help much against the cold, either. Uncomfortably I curled into the fetal position and tried not to let my fears wring me out.I was afraid. Afraid that I might never find my way out of these woods. Afraid that I would starve to death only a hundred feet from the edge of the town. Yes, I did think it would be nice to snuggle up to Midnight for warmth, but that was a foolish and fleeting thought. Fear was the caffeine that kept my mind alert this night. Every snap of twig or rustle of leaves, even the nighttime insects, cast an eerie mood on my waxing paranoia. Few stars were visible under the broad-leaved canopy above my head, but where I hadn’t noticed any shadows during the day, now I was surrounded by what seemed like dancing phantoms of black; evil fairies playing back and forth all around me.Sometime before sunrise I fell asleep. The green shade of morning light woke me up. I just curled into myself tighter like a pill bug in a toddler’s grip. Two horrible nights of sleep, and I wanted to rest all day. High in the sky overhead, though I couldn’t see it, I heard the familiar thunder of a commercial jet ripping across the sky. It could have thousands of kilometers to go before landing, but it reminded me that I should find civilization sometime today.I finished the last of my bread and washed it down with some water. I would need to keep an eye out for more water to refill my bottle this morning. Food I could likely do without for a meal or more, but I would need water. About two hours into my hike, I was rewarded with water. Granted, it was a bittersweet bounty. While I did need the wet stuff, what I found was more of a curse.After resting for half an hour, funneling the torrent of rainwater through a leaf into my water bottle, I realized that the deluge would not be letting up anytime soon, and neither should I. Water was already pooling at my feet as I stepped out from under the shelter of a fallen tree. I don’t know how, but even though the sun failed to penetrate the treetops before, the rain was unhindered by the umbrella of foliage. Within seconds I couldn’t have been wetter than if I’d jumped into a lake.The rain pounded more steadily against the ground than did my feet. By midday, amid the drowning white noise, the first hints of civilization tickled my nose. The blanket of water drowned all sound and almost all smell, baptizing the polluted atmosphere, washing it nearly clean. That faintest of smells that stubbornly clung below the treetops, defying all nature could cast against it, was the scent of a lingering wood-burning cook fire.My mind took too long to register what my nose was begging me to notice. I was on the outskirts of civilization. I was nearing New Tum, or at least I hope that's where I was emerging. I'd finally reached the other side. I quickened my pace. Through the pouring veil, as if from heaven, I saw the fuzzy shapes of homes. Please don't let them be my own hometown I thought. I'd go crazy if I'd just walked in a complete circle. Almost falling over myself, I raced closer, hoping to find a compassionate family, one willing to accept a dripping sponge under their roof."What town is this?" Were my first words as a rickety old man greeted me at the door of his equally rickety old house."Id youw jous come from da woods?" He asked with a toothless accent, slowly, as if his old lips struggled to form the words. Or maybe it was because he was so old that English wasn’t his first language."Please, just tell me what town this is?""Why dis int no town a’all. Dis’s New Tum Disdirk. A’youw okay? Youw loo’like youw been hikin in da wrain fur a ho’week. Cum in, fore youw cach'a coughin."I just nodded my head. "Thank you."End of Chapter 11Thanks for reading. Remember to comment on anything you liked or that you think should be fixed.Click here to read Chapter 12Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #11 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Download audio podcast here) (Chapter 10I’d found happiness. When I discovered it, I wanted to keep it. Why would anyone deny such a good thing? I guess I never was all that great at understanding the human psyche; not in anyone else and definitely not in myself. One thing I did learn, was that the hangman, the man the children called Daddy Smiling, is a good man. No, I wouldn’t consider him a good member of society. Obviously society rejected him, else he wouldn’t live like a recluse. Nor would his actions be condoned. Every month he killed men, sometimes more frequently. Almost every day he hiked through the woods, always searching for another man to dangle at the end of his noose. Every day he sang that same familiar tune, “Swing Low.”I could never dole out the punishment that he gave to the murderous fathers. For at least fifteen years, he’s been a shadow. A mythical creature of the dark forest. Truly a humble vigilante who saved the most innocent of lives. For this I both pity and admire him. He is physically deformed and mentally challenged. I don’t know what goes through his mind, but the burden to punish, and the drive to save those innocents—it consumes him. For anyone else, that burden would destroy them. In the eyes of his newly adopted children, he is larger than life. He is a hero.That first afternoon with Midnight was memorable. The frenzy of teenage girls who wanted to accept care of the new infant was staggering. Bumping, pushing, and prodding. Every girl from ten years old to fifteen was clamoring to gain custody of the newest addition to the community. Everyone that is, except Midnight. Apparently, I was distraction enough to keep her attentions occupied.“So . . .” I hesitated, not that I was attracted to her or anything, but I couldn’t help but wonder: “Daddy Chirp-chirp, are you and he a thing?”“He’s a big boy. I’m big girl. Trees are things.”“Not what I meant.” This would take some getting used to. Like me, she spoke English, but clearly communication would take some work. “Do you love him?”“Yes. I love all. But not Flore.” She hesitated, then added, “And not Burr and not Trula. Daddy Smiling loves all, so we love all, almost.”How was I to make her understand?She must have noticed my consternation, because she placed a hand on my back and gave me a sympathetic smile. “Are you sad? Is my Iddo not happy?”“I’m okay. I just—things are different here. I don’t understand any of this. I mean, obviously you were all saved by Daddy Smiling, and as you get older, the oldest take care of the youngest. And somehow you've broken into little family units, with a mother and a father. But is that because you and the father are—well, I’m sure you’re not married, but you obviously are together. I’ve never heard you refer to each other as husband and wife or boyfriend and girlfriend, but I don’t know if those words are even in your vocabulary. I hope I’m not offending you, this is just a lot for me to take in.”When I looked back in her eyes, I felt stupid. I could have been talking Russian for all she understood. Her eyebrows were stretched high on her forehead, as if by opening her eyes wider, she might understand better what I was saying. She nodded her head, but even while smiling, her mouth was hanging open just a bit. It betrayed her inability to follow what I’d just said.“Hey,” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”“You talk funny, yes you do.”We walked around the community. She took me down to the lake where some of the kids were swimming and trying to spear fish. Chirp-chirp was among them, Grub at his side. I couldn’t tell if Chirp-chirp was playing with the younger boy, or if he was trying to teach something. Grub just seemed to be playing, though.After walking around the camp several times, I realized we’d been talking, or rather, trying to talk, for the whole afternoon. With a shiver, I wrapped my arms around my chest. The temperature had dropped a few degrees. The sun was still up, but the clear blue sky was slowly giving way to slightly orange fingers of cloud that streaked in from the west.“I need to make dinner, yes I do. It’s almost nighttime. You have no mommy, so I make food for you.”“Thanks,” I said, not sure I could explain that I did have a mother. Undoubtedly she wouldn’t understand. As we walked back to the community kitchen, I could see that the frenzy of girls were still trying to get the new baby from the hangman. While Midnight worked on the dinner, I sat and watched the hangman as he sorted through the crowd of overzealous girls, each one striving to prove her own ability to care for the infant.The hangman patiently held the baby. At his feet was a basket filled with bottles, no doubt a collection from all the babies he’d rescued over the years. The girls would each grab a bottle and race out to find a boy. Many of the boys retreated whenever a girl approached them. But they continued to go from boy to boy until they found one willing to help. The willing boy retreated to the woods, coming back several minutes later with a plant. I’m not sure what kind it was, but he’d brake the stalk into several pieces, then squeezed each piece until a few drops of thick slime dripped into a pot. The girl then added water and cooked the milky colored sap until it resembled a dirty-cream-colored beverage. The girl and the boy then poured the liquid into a bottle and together presented it to the hangman.The hangman felt the temperature of the drink, then tasted it. He then looked deep into the faces of the boy and girl, gauging how suitable they were for the responsibility. Then he fed the baby, seeing if it would drink and burp afterward. The couple was then obligated to remain at the hangman’s feet until his decision was made. Occasionally one of the boys got up and left. This was apparently a sign that he wasn’t committed to raising the child, because the girl inevitably walked away, her face a painting of dejection. One or two of those girls tried to find another boy and repeat the ceremony, but most of the willing boys were gone by that point.I'd just started smelling the stew from Midnight’s pot, at least I think it was hers, when the hangman stood. A deep inviting laugh summoned all eyes. Even several of the teenagers who weren’t trying to adopt the baby gathered around to hear the verdict.The smile that seemed to split his head in two, somehow it grew even wider. Holding the baby high, he bellowed, “Daddy!” and brought the baby down, placing it in one of the boys’ arms. Sighs of relief and disappointment filled the air. Someone hollered a congratulation. Then the hangman lifted the baby out of the boy’s arms and placed it in the arms of the girl he’d been waiting with. “Mommy!” boomed from his throat, and the newly formed couple accepted responsibility for the infant. If I was to guess, I’d say that the girl was no older than ten, and the boy couldn’t have been any older than Grub.I looked over at Midnight. How old had she been when given Grub to take care of? If Grub had been as young as that infant tonight, she would’ve been only seven or eight. So young for such a large responsibility. This little ritual, somehow, helped the hangman find enough maturity in these children to care for a baby. At least, after witnessing the ceremony, I could see how Midnight and Chirp-chirp might have been paired. She was a willing mother at the time, and he was a willing father. Was that as far as their relationship extended?Dinner was much like lunch had been. Chirp-chirp brought Grub over, and smiles were exchanged all around. Chirp-chirp didn’t seem to mind that I was sitting between him and Midnight. It wasn’t by design, at least not mine. After the meal, he thanked Midnight with a pat on the back and a belch to go with it. Not more than half an hour had passed from the time dinner started, and I was left alone again with Midnight. I finished my last bite and thanked her.She gave me a pat on the back, but this time I had to fake a burp. It was a horrible attempt, and she laughed heartily. I laughed, too. I was feeling a little giddy. Not just because we were smiling and laughing together, but because she still had her hand resting on my back. Maybe it was because of another custom that I was unaware of, but I didn’t want her to remove it. The night was chill. I wanted to scoot closer to her, put my arm around her, or to place a hand on hers. Not that I was really interested in her. After all, it could never work out between us. Still, there was a part of me that knew she'd be dancing around in my dreams tonight.Of course, nothing happened. Well, she did withdraw her hand after what must have been two or three minutes. But those minutes had happened, and I would never forget how her touch on my back made my toes tingle.After talking for half an hour, our conversation flattened out. I didn’t mean to say it, but with little more to discuss, it just happened to come out. “I’m going to have to leave tomorrow.”She looked down at the ground for a minute, then lifted her eyes to mine. “You go bye-bye?”“Yes, tomorrow morning.”“I want you to stay.”For a second I wasn’t sure if her eyes got a little pink. If they did, it was just for a second. I’m sure my face flushed at her admission. “I have to go to school and get a job. I like it here, but I don’t belong here.”“Why school, you say you finish school already? And what is job?” She paused, then added, “All can live here.”“Yes, I finished some school, but I have much more to do. It will teach me to help people. And a job is work. I need to go to work to pay for school.”“Pay?”“Yes, with money—right, you don’t have to worry about money here.”“Stay. We help, and you can help here. You not need school to help.”I sighed, “You're right, I can help people without school. But if I go to school I can help people in a different way. I'll be able to save people’s lives.”“Daddy Smiling saves lives. He not have school.”Midnight tugged at her fingers as if she was deep in thought. She looked over at where Grub was playing, then at the kitchen, then back down at the ground. “I want come with you,” she said softly.My breath caught. “But what about Chirp-chirp and Grub?”“Grub almost daddy.” She started to justify, but exhaled, her protest deflated before she could even convince herself. “I want come with you, but I stay.”I didn’t know what to say. Obviously, she thirsted for more than this. She really did want to learn, but she’d outgrown this place. I felt for her.Part of me imagined another reason why she might want to come with me. But that was ridiculous. We’d only known each other for half a day. If she ever got to know the real me, she wouldn’t even want to be my friend. Even if she did have feelings for me, I was the new guy in town, and it would have just been some new-guy charm for a community where the only new people were babies or toddlers.Besides, I wasn’t sure what I thought about her yet. When I’d first seen her, she wasn’t much to look at, though I’ll admit, that might have had something to do with the lack of a good hair stylist and modern clothing. As I’d come to notice, she truly was beautiful, if even in a very humble way. But as fun as the idea might have been, I was in no position to be chasing any girls. Especially not one like her. She was so primitive and simple—and sweet and caring—but no! It just would never work out.That night I tossed and turned. Midnight was sleeping with some of the other girls and I was sprawled out under the stars within arm’s length of Chirp-chirp and Grub. Grub still poked fun at my belly. Chirp-chirp tried to be amiable, but we had little to talk about. Surely he could see what Midnight was unable to see yet, that I was just some boring kid who could easily be forgotten.I didn’t dream about Midnight like I thought I would. In fact, I didn’t dream at all. I don’t know if the hard ground was my problem. I’d often slept on a hard floor at home, but I couldn’t fall asleep here. The whole night I rolled and fidgeted, trying to get comfortable, but couldn’t quite manage it. If I had dreamed, she would've been in it, because the whole while that I tried to sleep, I kept imagining her smiling face. I kept wondering what might happen if I did stay. It was all in vain, and I suspect that was part of my restlessness. Several times I tried to push thoughts of her out of my head so that I could sleep, but she kept crawling back into my mind.When the endless night was nearing completion, the muddle of my brain finally settled just enough for me to drift into sleep. Unfortunately, this is exactly when Chirp-chirp sat up and shook me and Grub. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said with a smile.There was no sunshine, just a slightly lighter sky that threatened to hide all the stars in another hour. All around, like roosters crowing at the dawn, little babies woke each other with hungry cries. Grub moaned a little, and I just lay staring up.“We go work now,” Chirp-chirp said.I sat up. All around us, the boys were stirring and getting up. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the hangman humming his usual song. The girls stayed down or tended to their babies while all the boys made their way to the kitchen. Two baskets were in easy view, each brimming with stone-grilled bread that had been made the day before. With their breakfast in hand and a basket or spear of their own, the boys split off in different directions.“You work with us?” Chirp-chirp asked me.As curious as I was, I shook my head. “I need to go now. Thank you so much for everything.”Chirp-chirp gave me a hug. “You’re a good boy, yes you are. Stay good, okay.”“Okay, you too.”Next it was Grub’s turn to say good-bye. He did so with a punch in my stomach and a giggle as he ran around to hide behind Chirp-chirp.I shook my fist in front of a laugh of my own. I couldn’t help but like that kid.As they hiked away for their hunting or gathering, I found my own pack and got ready to leave. I wanted to say good-bye to Midnight, but thinking better of it, I made up my mind to just walk out.It didn’t matter. She found me before I could leave.At some point last night, she’d tied her hair into a ropelike ponytail. She must have slept on it like that, because I could still see the imprint of it across her cheek.“You come back?” she asked.No. “Yes.”She smiled, and I felt guilty. I’d only said what I knew she wanted to hear. We stared at each other for a minute. I twitched, signaling that I was ready to leave. She responded by stepping closer and giving me a hug.“You’re a good-good boy, yes you are. You stay good, okay.” It was the same sort of good-bye that Chirp-chirp had given, but with a lot more sadness in it.If that was the customary good-bye, then I felt obliged to return it. “And you’re a good girl, yes you are. You stay good, too, okay?”She smiled, then stepped back. “Your talk gets better, yes it does.”I gave her a small wave and awkwardly turned around. My eyes were still heavy and my feet dragged as I put distance between us. If I'd allowed myself to keep sleeping, it would be lunchtime before I was ready to go. Even still, just one more hour of sleep would have been nice. I wondered if I should stop in an hour and try for a short nap.I turned around to see her one last time before ducking into the woods. She gave a final wave and I turned around only to be smacked by a protruding tree branch. I heard her laugh as I disappeared into the early morning shadow. My cheek smarted from the branch, but my mind stung more with the confusion I felt. Why did I find it so difficult to leave?Maybe when the school year was over, I might try and get some time off from work. That is, if I could find a job. I would visit my mother, and would it be so wrong if I happened to find my way here again? It would just be a friendly visit along the way. But really, who was I kidding? There was no way I’d be able to find my way back here again.End of Chapter 10Thanks for reading. Remember to comment on anything you liked or that you think should be fixed.Click here to read Chapter 11Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.

Swing Low: Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Being a writer is fun. Knowing how to manage your time while pursuing your dreams, that is essencial. -B.C. Crow:

Part of being being a new writer is knowing where to focus your attention. I like writing blog articles, but I like keeping my life in balance also. I am not a full time writer, and therefore I must prioritize my day job and family ahead of blog articles, while still sticking to my habit of writing in my books for a set amount of time each day.

For this reason, I have not written any new blog articles this week. But if you're following this, I doubt that you're doing so for my random ramblings. So without further adue, please enjoy this next installment.

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #10 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Download audio podcast here) ()Chapter 9Chapter 9Truth. Life is easy to organize in our heads. We do it every minute, even our subconscious performs the task while in our sleep. But you’ve met the people who have organized everything wrong. Maybe you’re one of them. For those of us fortunate enough to have organized things appropriately, we pity them. They don’t notice their error, because they already have a firm grasp on their own reality. Funny how they look at us the same way as we look at them. Who knows, maybe they are right, and we are the mistaken lot.Well, in my case, I was lost, but found my way. Like most everyone else I knew, I’d been raised on rumors that turned out to be false. I knew they were false the second my eyes beheld the truth. Truth may be interpreted differently by all. Usually truth is confirmation of our own opinion, but when it’s not, then it’s much harder to accept. In my case, while truth went against the grain of everything I thought I knew, in fact it was a source of great relief.I had to stop myself from approaching too quickly. My feet seemed to have a mind of their own. Only a couple steps ago, I’d been shoving my way through some of the densest undergrowth I’d ever had the displeasure of scratching against my skin. Now I was in a clearing. Giant trees still cast a greenish shadow, but not a single shrub threatened my flesh with thorny spikes.Up ahead was a pristine lake. Distant ripples suggested an abundance of jumping fish. I could smell it. The body of water carried a unique scent. Unlike the sappy herbal smell of the forest, or the savory aroma from cook fires, this was a humid, refreshing sensation. The lake alone might have beckoned me on, but that wasn’t the biggest reason why I was compelled to advance. The voices I’d barely heard on the other side of the bramble were not only clear, but now had faces attached to them.There must have been close to a hundred faces, at least that I could see right now. Not an adult among them. None that is, save the hangman himself. Children of all ages flocked around this monstrosity of a man, oblivious or unconcerned with his scary appearance. All were eager to see the newest addition to their—family? I was fifteen years old myself, almost sixteen. Not a single kid here was older than me. Their ages ranged from just a few months old to about fifteen years, or so I guessed. With no adult guardians, the older kids were taking care of the younger ones.I stood, taking in this community of what I could only assume were the seconds that the hangman had saved over the years. Suddenly I found myself to be the focus of curiosity for one boy, about eight years old. He approached me with eyes full of interest and caution. There was something odd about him . . . a sense of maturity generally not found in children his age. I studied him and he studied me. For such a large and isolated gathering of children, I was surprised that they were self-sufficient. Most of the kids over five years old had clothing, even if many of their outfits resembled this eight-year-old’s garb.His clothing was limited to a large flag of woven plant fiber, but was draped over his shoulders falling in front and in back, nearly to his knees. A thin piece of cordage, probably made here, tied around his waist, securing the sheets in a half robe half dress sort of fashion. Though for him, fashion wasn't the right term. My guess is that his only goal was to keep the flaps from flying open and exposing his more tender regions.“Hello there,” a girl’s voice called out.I looked up from this little boy and saw her. She was one of the older kids, close to my age. She wore a slightly more complex garment, but not by much. Her face was smooth and her long, gnarled black hair hung nearly to her waist. I guessed that a comb was a scarce commodity around here. Still, she had kept her hair from turning into a large dreadlock, which was commendable.“Hello,” I replied. Normally I wasn’t much for formality, always too shy to meet many new people. But I was quite possibly the first person raised outside this community to pay a visit. So, I hesitantly stuck out my hand to shake hers. She just looked at it with curiosity. Self-consciously I drew it back. For lack of anything better to say, I said, “My name is Iddo, what’s yours?”“And aren’t you a handsome one, Iddo? Yes you are,” she said with mock flattery.How was I supposed to respond to that? “Uh—”“I’m Midnight. Yes I am. Midnight,” she continued in that same condescending tone, tapping her chest as she spoke.Of course, I realized. She and most of the children here would only know a primitive amount of language. Most of them had been brought here at such a young age that few would have learned how to speak very well. I’d already learned that the hangman wasn’t much of a conversationalist, so they would have learned from one another. Likely the most any of them knew would have come from the simple baby talk their parents once used on them.She smiled. It was a pretty smile. “This is Grub. Yes he is.” She pointed to the eight-year-old boy who was still staring up at me. “He’s my baby. Such a good boy.”Now it was my turn to be a little confused. Did she seriously want me to accept this eight-year-old boy as her son? How could she possibly claim him as her baby? As I tried to understand, she stepped closer, and put an arm around the boy. He said, with his eyes still fixed on me, “Mommy, this new daddy has big round tummy. Squishy-squishy.”He reached out and poked my stomach. I pulled back as he giggled. “Big round belly, yes it is.” And to think that just a minute ago I’d thought this boy looked more mature for his age. He probably was just building up the courage to stab his finger into my gut.The girl laughed a little, too. My face burned with embarrassment. I wasn’t used to pretty girls laughing at me. I didn’t like it. Even if she meant no harm by it. I was clearly no father to this boy.“I’m not your daddy,” I said.There was a silence as they stared at me quizzically. The boy broke the moment by stating, “You’re not my daddy. You’re Daddy Iddo. My daddy is Daddy Chirp-chirp.”“Does this Chirp-chirp take care of you?”“Mommies watch babies,” Midnight explained. “I watch Baby Grub. Grub is my baby, yes he is. Daddies find food. Daddy Chirp-chirp finds food for Baby Grub and Mommy Midnight. Mommies cook food and mommies stay here. Daddies do not stay here. Daddies work.”It was making sense in a crude way. As I looked around the camp, I could see that most of the older girls had young children close by them. There weren’t many boys older than Grub, so I could only guess that the older boys were out hunting or gathering food.“Daddy Smiling brings new babies. When baby girls are big girls, big girls get babies and are mommies. Baby Grub is such a big boy, yes he is. Soon Baby Grub be daddy. I want new baby next time.”“So Daddy Smiling brings new babies?” I repeated.“Yes. Smiling is big grand-daddy.” She pointed at the hangman.This all seemed so simple, and in this case, simple was a hard thing to come to terms with. The hangman, or Daddy Smiling as Midnight called him, was saving new babies, bringing them here, and giving charge of them to the older girls. Midnight couldn’t have been much older than Grub when she’d first been given charge of him. No wonder these kids radiated a higher degree of maturity, even if they all talked like a parent cooing over a newborn. They had a large degree of responsibility thrust on them at a very young age. And I thought I was being forced to grow up early.“You hungry?” Midnight asked with a playful poke at my belly. She giggled.Instinctively I placed my palm over my stomach to prevent any more probing fingers. Eat? Lunch? “I am hungry,” and then for no reason whatsoever, I added, “Yes I am.”She waved me to follow. “Come on, it’s okay, let’s fill big bellies.”I shook my head, a dumb smile playing across my face. I could tell she was smart. Something about her eyes. I figured she’d be a quick learner if I tried to teach her to speak like a normal person.She smiled back at me with the most genuine smile I’d ever seen in a girl my own age. I remembered Krystal and her haughty grin. When she curved her lips, I always felt small. But Midnight’s smile buoyed me up. I took in a breath of fresh air. The air tasted fresher because it was in the presence of her radiant face. Yes, I wanted to teach her how to speak better. Not so much to give my charity to her, but because she deserved it. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt like she hungered for knowledge beyond what she could get here. I can’t explain.Crude huts made of sticks and thatch dotted the area, growing more numerous as we walked deeper into the little community. These doorless shelters were little more than lean-tos and offered little to no privacy. They were simply a place to sleep and find refuge during a rainstorm. In the middle of everything, I found several small fires burning. Many young girls were tending them. The area was like a community kitchen. Hanging from trees were dead birds, snakes, rodents, and various sorts of forest vegetation like bananas, fruits, roots, and herbs. The older girls were helping the younger girls learn as they prepared a late lunch.Walking into the camp, I followed closely behind Midnight. She kept turning back, making sure I was following. I would have stepped up to her side, but I had to keep dodging Grub, as he hadn’t yet lost his fascination with my unusually round body.“Wait here, okay, I’ll be right back. Just you wait.”I savored the wood smoked smells of cooked meats, nearly drooling with hunger. I shifted my attention back to Grub. He sat down on the ground, and I followed his example. Midnight went to what could have only been a homemade clay pot. She tip-toed back, each step taken with care as she carried our lunch. She’d apparently been cooking before she’d met me. Then she scooped thick stew onto a single large banana leaf.“Four piles?” I asked, looking at the steaming food. I knew that I was huskier than anyone else here, but did she really think I needed two servings? I studied the stew as its heat darkened and softened the wilting banana leaf. I sat myself in front of one of the servings. I looked first at the various forest creatures that hung dead around this outdoor kitchen, then back to this slowly wilting serving leaf. I promised myself not to ask what was in this particular gruel.Midnight didn’t have to answer my question about the fourth pile of food. The commotion that grew from across the kitchen was all I needed. Several boys from about eight years old to my age were arriving in groups of three to five. Almost all of them were carrying some form of bounty. The smaller groups brought bundles of bananas, mushrooms, or other plant life. The larger groups carried dead animals of every forest variety, even little fishes from the lake. One boy dropped his load and rushed over to us. His eyes were a little suspicious of me when he asked my hostess, “Who’s your daddy?”At first I felt alarmed. That wasn’t the right thing to say to a girl. I was pacified when Midnight responded, “Daddy Chirp-chirp, you’re such a good boy, yes you are. Isn’t he such a good boy?” She then pinched his cheek.Grub chimed in, “Daddy Chirp-chirp, this is Daddy Iddo.”“Hello new Daddy Iddo,” he said casually as he pinched Grub’s cheek, then followed up by pinching mine. “You have no mommy to cook for you?”“Uh . . . no. I’m new here. Midnight was kind enough to offer me lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”“You talk funny, yes you do.” He laughed. “You like Mommy Midnight’s food. It’s yummy-yummy, yes it is.”Well, so much for any possible territorial hostilities. This guy seemed pleased to share a banana leaf of food with me. At least now I understood why Midnight had prepared the fourth serving. Without any silverware, I followed their lead, and picked at the stew with my fingers, using my middle and index finger to scoop some of the more liquidy portions into my mouth.As soon as we were done, Chirp-chirp patted Midnight’s back three times. Midnight released a belch that any teenage boy would have been proud to claim. She showed no signs of embarrassment. Rather, in turn, she patted his back three times. He responded with a burp of his own. “You’re such a good girl, yes you are.” He then stood up and raced over to his friends.Midnight repeated the patting on Grub. Grub had to really strain to burp, but he managed a small “Urp,” to which Midnight responded, “Good release.” Grub blushed slightly then ran after Chirp-chirp.Midnight was about to come pat me on the back, but I had no burps in me, and little chance of forcing one. This strange custom had to have come from the practice of burping young infants. If I stayed for another meal, I’d have to keep this in mind. I stood, hoping to discourage her from the formality, and asked, “Could you show me around the place?”She drew near. “You want to see all. You’re a smart one, aren’t you? Yes you are.”I tried to set a slow pace for her to lead the way. When she was next to me, she said, “Come, I’ll show you all.”She walked next to me and motioned for me to leave the cooking area. I took one step before feeling three distinct thumps on my back. I was surprised to hear a gurgling burp rumble up my own throat.End of Chapter 9Thanks for reading. Remember to comment on anything you liked or that you think should be fixed.Click here to read Chapter 10Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.