The Haunted Traveler Vol. 1 Issue 1

75
night air cooled her feverish skin. She raised her head and
spotted Russell in the yard, pacing slowly as he held Norman.
Irene slumped onto the top porch step. Behind her in the
house, her mother continued to scream, while before her,
Russell moved back and forth, sometimes staggering as he
fought to stay awake. Norman’s head rested on Russell’s
shoulder, his little suit shining a pale ivory in the weak light
of the half moon.
*****
Irene stood in the cemetery, staring at the haphazard rows
of large field stones which served as memorials to bodies
buried deep in the earth. The preacher clutched a tattered
Bible as he stood at the head of her younger brother’s grave.
Norman’s body was buried facing east, as was custom.
Irene glanced at Russell. He struggled to hide his trembling
lips, and he held his eyes wide so the wind could dry
his unshed tears. Stella and Agnes stared at the wooden box
nestled at the bottom of the grave. Their eyes were dull and
glassy in their wan faces.
Her mother and father stood together near the preacher.
Neither made a sound as they lowered their heads. Irene
couldn’t read her mother’s expression, but she saw the livid
purple bruise darkening her right cheek. From the way
her mother held her arms around her middle, Irene imagined
there were many more bruises beneath her dress, hidden
from sight. Neighbors formed a wide circle around the family,
keeping a respectful distance.
The preacher read several passages from the Bible and
said a few prayers. Then the men began shoveling dirt onto
Norman’s coffin. Irene clutched her throat, shaking with the
effort to hold back her cries. Dr. Ward stood at the crowd’s
periphery. Irene stared at him, her eyes pleading, but he never
looked her way.