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Southern Wolf's blog: "Short Stories"

created on 04/08/2009  |  http://fubar.com/short-stories/b289586

Heart of Gold

Jennifer gazed at her husband from across the table. Still dawning the perplexed look that had been on his face since he had arrived home to find the table laid with the best silver and lit candles.

"Some wine, my love?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat as she handed him a brimming glass of sweetened red wine.

"What is all of this Jen?", he asked, a weak smile crossing his wine dampened lips.

"Well, William, I really wanted to talk to you about something, and knowing how things have been... a little strained, between us lately, I thought I'd make the atmosphere a bit more comfortable for us."

She uncovered the plate and passed it to him with an inscrutable smile, "It's you're favorite, honey."

"Wow," he smiled as he lifted the cover and leaned in to sniff. "Stuffed heart! I haven't had this in ages. Lamb, or pig?"

"Cow actually," she smiled

"Good! It'll be nice and beefy, then. Sage and onion stuffing too? I can't wait. Thank you baby."

As usual, he began devouring the meal without a single thought as to the time and care Jennifer had taken to prepare it. She picked up her knife and fork and began to eat her cheese omelet as daintily as possible as if to counteract his animal-like gluttony. She wasn't really hungry, anyway; her stomach was too tense.

"You're not having anything else?" he asked.

"No. This is enough for me. I don't have your taste for the more exotic recipes, anyway, you know that."

"Animal heart's good for you, Jen. At least that's what Mom always says...."

"Yes. Your mom always says everything. But let's not get into that, honey. I know I've been a little lax in the kitchen lately, but I've decided to try spoiling you. It can't do any harm, can it? Besides, I just may win back your affections. After all, it is your mother that says a way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

She expected this remark to cause some sort of reaction and it did. He began to chew slowly and kept his gaze fixed to the plate that he'd already half emptied. He pursed his lips and a confused frown crossed his forehead. "And how do you plan on doing this?"

She chuckled "There's kidneys tomorrow and liver on Friday, how else can I spoil you?"

"Nice. I'll be in heav….. wait, did you say Friday?"

"Yes, honey. Friday"

"But I'm going out right after work on Friday. Boy's night out, you know that."

"Oh yeah, your night out with the 'boys'. Well, I'm afraid it's been cancelled. Didn't you know?"

"Cancelled? What do you mean? How...."

The eager consumption of the remains on his plate came to an abrupt halt and he looked hard at his wife. His brows knitted together as he waited for her to clarify her meaning.

"You were never one for going out with the boys, William. It seemed odd you suddenly were. Especially as the 'boys' are few and far between now. In short, my darling, I don't believe you. There is no night out with the 'boys' and never has been, has there?"

His knuckles whitened around his cutlery and there came a slight reddening to his cheekbones. "What do you mean? What..."

"I know, William. I've suspected it. You've been seeing another woman, haven't you?"

"Now look, Jennifer, .....you always think..."

"I said, you've been seeing another woman, haven't you? In fact, you've been seeing Karen, the bitch next-door. Haven't you?"

William sat silent for a moment, and then let his knife and fork fall to the plate with a loud clatter as he wiped the grease from his lips with a napkin. His head fell and a deep sigh pressed its way through his partially slit lips.

"Yes baby, I have been….I'm so sorry?"

"Nothing to be sorry for my husband. I suppose it's my fault too. We fell into a rut and you found solace in someone else's arms. I guess I can understand that. But her, William? Why her? She's a whore. You've even said that yourself."

"That's before I got to know her. She's really nice. Kind even. A heart of gold as a matter of fact."

"Hmm, a heart of gold? You think so? Is that why she decided to come and tell me all about you and her this afternoon? Is that an act of kindness, Willaim?"

"Oh, God. She said she'd tell you if I didn't. I never thought for a minute she would make good on her threat."

"Don't worry my love. She and I had a nice, long chat. I think I've persuaded her that I'm not going to give you up that easily."

"You're n-not?"

"Of course not silly. You expect me to throw ten years of marriage away just so that silly tramp could have you? I think she got the message, though. She won't be bothering us anymore."

"Jen. You weren't mean to her, were you? She's a nice girl. I don't want her to think..."

"A heart of gold, you said. I heard you the first time, William. Tell me, husband dear. How good was her heart?"

"Jen, you're taking this a bit calm. What did you say to her?"

"I asked, how good was your heart? Delicious?"

"It was infac……"William's face turned an icy pale.

Jennifer took a sip of her wine, leaned her chin on her hands and smiled peacefully. "Good. I'd hate to think my culinary efforts had gone to waste."
    In a small place between Hazard and Bull Creek Kentucky, well into the wooded mountainside is where this story begins. Time has passed and structures changed, many of rumors have floated through this quiet town. In one area in particular, sitting on the outskirts of this town away from an old grave site. This  home in particular had not seen an owner in many years, as most of the stories revolve around it.  A woman, named Pauline, having inherited the old house, finally settled on the property that was deemed haunted, even cursed. Swearing that no ghost, spook or specter was going to scare her away.

    For the first couple of months nothing out of the ordinary happened. Pauline deemed the stories as simple folklore. As the one year anniversary approached the new ownership, neighbors started noticing a strange mist like fog hanging low to the ground, incasing the old house. The neighbors grew more terrified, believing it as a ghostly presence and creating tales to fit it. Again, Pauline refused to be frightened away by such tales, claiming still the folklore and the swampy field near the cemetery was the cause. She paid no never mind to the rants of the misguided townsfolk. For three nights she sat out on the porch of her home. Upon the fourth night, the moon was full and shinning intently. Pauline sat on the porch, humming to herself, even at times snickering at some of the stories she had been told. A gently breeze struck up and soon was heard a whistling through the trees. In the distance, storm clouds crawled their way across the sky. Pauline gave in to her thoughts of retiring for the night, she made her way inside and dawned her evening wear.
   
    The hour was late. Pauline was knolled to sleep by the gentle patting of the rain outside her window. From somewhere distant, a faint, sorrowful moan could be heard. Pauline woke, frustrated by the noise. Grabbing her rode and making her way to the window, she peered out over the fog distorted land. She glanced about the yard. Having satisfied her curiosity, she turned towards the warmth and comfort of her bed. Pauline hesitated in disbelief. She turned back towards the window. A strange, out of place figure caught her eye. The image of a man stood across the street, leaning on his left leg. She could not make out the gentleman, even his facial features where a mystery. Suddenly, the moon appeared from behind the clouds casting a brilliant light upon the figure. There the man stood, his head tilted down, laying his gaze upon her with a slight grin. Horrified, Pauline quickly turned placing her back against the wall. Surely he could not have noticed me through this fog, she thought to herself. Slowly she turned to peek outside the window again. Gazing through the fog, she could not catch sight of the mysterious gentleman. Fearing the worst, Pauline rushed through the house locking her doors and windows. She made her way upstairs, turning the corner into her room, Pauline was caught with a start. A gasp quickly left her lips. Her room had filled with the fog from outside. Realizing she had left the window open in her hastily retreat downstairs, she made one last gaze out of the window to where the man had stood……nothing. She closed the window and returned to bed, hoping that the nights events would not leave her unable to sleep.

    The sun slowly crept across the floor of her bedroom, warming everything it touched. The sounds of the morning gently awoke Pauline, she rose out of bed, dawned her robe and headed downstairs to the kitchen with only one thing in mind…..coffee. There was a slight rap at her back door, catching her off guard she stumbled back, feeling her heart drop. It was Mr. Ashnell, her only neighbor that wasn't trying to scare her with ridiculous stories. She invited him in for coffee and cake and proceeded to tell him about last night, hoping he would offer her some relief with an explanation, but none was given. After some time, Pauline bid her neighbor good day and continued on with her day, not giving last night a single thought.

    Pauline shot up in her bed. The moaning filled her room. She slowly made her way to the window, suddenly, something began pounding on her bedroom door. The sudden realization that her life was in danger sent Pauline into tears. She slid down the wall, praying for whatever this was to leave her alone. A voice echoed in her room as it whispered, "Terror at night, death at dawn, buried beneath." The voice seemed to trail off, leaving her only with a question. The next afternoon, the local Preacher had heard of her frantic ranting and decided to offer her a visit. She explained to the Preacher what had happened the last two nights, finally, after sorting out her story from her panic, he offered her an answer to her problem. He suggested that tonight he would stay with her and together, they would put an end to this troublesome experience.

    Once again as the sky darkened and the hour grew late, Pauline became increasingly filled with terror. The Preacher tried to consol her but as the hours passed he became more convinced that she was simply going mad. Then at once, the clouds drew in and tossed the town into a sarcophagus of darkness. The distant moaning increased. The sudden banging at her front door, chilled their souls. The Preacher was shaken, to say the least, not knowing what it was he was dealing with. Then came the whisper, "Terror at night, death at dawn, buried beneath." Finally regaining his wits and placing himself between Pauline and the door, he slowly opened it. There stood a ghastly creature, with an ominous, white glow. The Preacher felt his heart drop and began reciting scripture. He stepped onto the porch, toward the apparition. Pauline thought he had lost his mind. The creature seemed unmoved by the Preacher's actions. Finally, with a hard swallow the Preacher spoke. "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, I demand that you tell us what it is that you want here!"

    The silence seemed to last forever for the two of them. The figure's lips barely visible, made no movement, but the whisper was hear again, "Terror at nigh, death at dawn," The creature slowly pointed at Pauline, "YOU, buried beneath." The Preacher pushed Pauline back through the door and slammed it shut, quickly bolting it. The two of them rushed to the back door, hoping to make an escape through the woods behind her house. Both the Preacher and Pauline dashed across the yard heading towards a wooden gate. The fog grew thick around them. Pauline, terrified, followed the Preacher as closely as her trembling legs would carry her. Pauline, ignoring the Preacher's words to not look back, did so. She tripped, her head smashing into the ground. Dazed she lifted her head, trying to find the Preacher. She stumbled to her feet, glancing around, she couldn't find the Preacher anywhere. Dizzy, Pauline leaned against a hard object, rubbing her head she realized she was bleeding. A wound caused by the broken headstone she had hit. She looked around, now realizing where she was, she began to panic. With a hushed tone, she called out for the Preacher, the silence was deafening. In a short distance, she noticed a soft glow calling to her. Maybe the Preacher went in there, she thought, God, I hope so. Pauline slowly made her way towards the house, she saw as safety. The door was cracked. Inside she could see a fireplace glowing with intensity. She slowly opened the door, peering inside, she prayed the Preacher was there, waiting for her. He was

    The blow to Pauline's head was sharp and quick. She dreamt of sunny days at the beach, cookouts with her family and friends. Her dreams were interrupted with a splash of dirt on her face. Her eyes fluttered open, with a glazed look she attempt to make out her surroundings. Finally realizing she was in a whole that seemed to stretch to the center of the earth. Two men stood over her, one with a shovel, the other leaning on his left. A whisper was heard, "Terror at night, death at dawn, buried beneath."
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