The Curse Of The Moloch
Norman A Rubin

MOLOCH or MOLECH

Moloch, a pagan fire god called in the Old Testament an idol of the Edomites, identified with the god of the Canaanites, whose believers introduced his worship into Judah and Israel. The Moloch was revered as the God of Fire to whom innocent children were sacrificed. His image was either bronze or iron, with a hollow body, the head of a calf and extended arms. Below the hollow body was a deep fiery pit, ever ready for the sacrificial lamb.

According to ancient mythology a royal king ruled throughout the agricultural year, and in an annual offering he was sacrificed by burning to appease the gods of fertility for a bountiful crop for the coming year. Within time the custom of offering the first-born offspring of a noble citizen of a community as an annual surrogate for the sacred king became in vogue. The child substitute, who died in the rites of sacrifice, had to be invested, at least for the occasion, with divine attributes of sacred royalty liberally endowed with supernatural powers or to be an image of the incarnation of a royal king.

In the passage of time the ceremonial rites of sacrifice to the royal king was linked with one of a sin offering. It was widely practiced by the past civilizations, "To the great god, a great sacrifice, breath for breath, blood for blood, life for life". The Canaanites, along with the Phoenicians, the Assyrians, the Moabites, the Aramaeans and others recalled the debts to their gods and offered their children as burnt offerings. The essential element of the ceremony was that the flesh which had become 'sin' should be taken away, destroyed. When the sin is got rid off, it is no longer between the gods and man. Thus the ritual sacrifice of the 'sin-offering' was a means by which the stain of sin of ancient man or of his community was removed.

The child, the sacrificial lamb, dressed in a simple white robe and crowned with wreath of olive branches, was brought to the altar with due ceremony. The child was then disrobed and placed on the idol's arms. It was quite probable the child was drugged and was unaware of his circumstances. After various rituals and cermonials were performed the head priest shoved or rolled the child into the fiery pit. During the rites of sacrifice, people danced to flutes, timbrels and the beat of the drum; they called out to their god of fire to accept their rich offering of the sacrificial lamb as it was for them the noblest sacred act for their transgressions.

Usually the first-born son was offered, since they were more valued as they were the first male of the loins. However, for a lesser sin, younger sons or daughters were offered as in the Biblical passage of Jephthah, the Gileadite. He solemly vowed that if God will deliver the Ammorites into his hands he will sacrifice the first person that greets him in his triumphant return, "who shall meet him with tambourines and dances but his daughter, and she his only child." (Judges 11).

The Hebrews under two kings of Judah, King Ahaz (733-727 BC) and King Mansseh (698-642 BC) followed this sacrifical ritual of their neighbors, "Children of sin you are, spawn of life... and sacrificing children in the gorges." (Isaiah 57:3-7). (Some historians claim that the cult of the sacrifice of children was brought into Ancient Israel at the time of Jezebel.)

Biblical sources state that children were made "to cause their sons and their daughters to pass through the fire unto the Molech." Meaning they were sacrificed by burning to 'Molech' (Malik - the king which is the appellation of the pagan god). The ceremonial rites became firmly established at the time of King Manasseh and his son Amnon. "he even passed his son through the fire, adopting the abominable practices of the heathen..." (II Kings 16:3).

In Leviticus 20:2-5 the Lord warns Moses against those who give seed to the Molech and in I Kings 11:6-13 He rebukes Solomon for building a temple to Molech, "then Solomon did what was wrong in the eyes of the Lord... He built a hill-shrine... for Molech, the loathsome god of the Edomites..."

..and in the New Testament the people are reminded of the days when their ancestors sacrificed to the Molech, "That was when they made the bull-calf, and offered sacrifices to the idol..." (Acts 7:41-43).

At the beginning of the time of King Josiah, within the framework of his reign activities, the shrines to the Moloch in ancient Israel were destroyed. He thus cleared away pagan abuses where human sacrifices were made; his reforms included the expulsion of the idol-priests that officiated in the Canaanite cult. "He brought in all the priests from the cities of Judah and desecrated the hill-shrines where they had burnt sacrifices, and dismantled the hill-shrines to the demons.." (II Kings 23:4-20)

 

Through the ensuing years, men of the cloth falsely interpreted the meaning of the Biblical Moloch; they rendered the denotation of the sacrificial offering of the first-born to the royal king (Melek) as a symbol of retribution for sins and transgressions. This superstitious fear, which will commit believers or their children to walk through the 'Hell fires of the Moloch' when they sin or perpetrate wicked acts, had been branded in deep belief.

Even at the present day, throughout many backwood areas of various western countries threre is fear of the fire god, the Moloch. It is, coupled with the threat of damnation in the nether regions of the devil as a punishment for sinful acts, that is being emphasized forcefully by well-meaning preachers to their congregations through hell for leather bible-thumping sermons. In turn, the congregants pass this superstitous fear to their children.

"and they made their sons and daughters pass through the fire.."

Note: Distinction should be made between the sacrifice of children in ancient times as a sporadic deed at the time of crisis and distress such as the act commited by Mesha, King of Moab, who is said to have sacrificed his first born son, the heir to the throne, on the walls of the city (II Kings 3:26,27); an act of religious devotion as expressed in the story of Abraham's plan to sacrifice his only son Isaac (Genesis 22); and the Moloch religious cult which was for the Cananites and other believers an established institution being the awe inspiring of all sacred acts.

 

 

Chapter one

The still of the cold night, covering the darkened sphere of the city, was shattered by pealing bells set high in a steeple of a near distant church. They tolled somberly the twelve notes of midnight, calling out the faith of the hour. Birds of the daylight, woken by the tolling of the bells, circled about. They spread their shadowy wings under the full moon and drifted in the breath of the intermittent winds; at times the feathered creatures were silhouetted by the full moon, and at other moments concealed by the passing dark clouds.

The twelfth note was pealed, and the resonance of the ringing bells slowly faded out. The ghostly shapes of the winged creatures reappeared in the still of the night, as they flew back to their nesting place in the tall belfry.

The city once again reverted to the quiet of the night leaving the wafting shadow spirits of the murky gloom to dominate their haunts. The eerie darkness with its mysteries hovered over the cold and empty passages. A beaming light, in a deserted section of the metropolis, disturbed the menacing forces of the night terrors as they whisked through the night; it illuminated a room from an apartment on the second storey of a crumbling building. A large mouldy sign above the lower basement window indicated that the building was destined to a destructive end, and the evidence was in empty boarded apartments.

Two vacant vehicles lined the street near the building; the blue lamps on their roofs flashed their officiality. The spirits of the night hovered over them and wept their tears on the metal bodies, fogging the windows with their mist. The police cars stood empty to the silence of the night as their occupants had alighted, and had made their way to that room with the light to inquire and to investigate.

Within that room, lit by a naked dim bulb, a tense group of four men had arrived through the show of correct identification. They were in official uniform or badged with the authority of their office. They stood in a half-circle around a seated elderly couple. The care-worn eyes of the seniors showed signs of tiredness from the late hour; their robed covered night-clothes were in disarray from the haste of their awakening. Apprehension was etched on their lined faces as they nervously waited, poised to attention to the figures around them.

The police had come to this address through an excited message that was sent through the telephone voiced by a hysterical woman; a high pitched voice which screamed repeatedly, "He's a killin' her, he's a killin' her!!" The operator, who received the call, managed with patience to control the agitated caller. Slowly, but slowly the jumbled phrases blurted out, "Me and me man saw through th' window a man beatin' a woman wit' a heavy stick... an, an he was ah.. ah.. screamin' all over th' place." The operator was able to squeeze out the name and address from the caller; the information was immediately passed on to a fellow worker who sent out a signal to cruising police vehicles. Tension was relieved as the message was received, "Patrol car No. 23, near scene... will respond." The operator continued to soothe the nervous woman with the promise that a police vehicle is on its way, and that she should stay calm. After a few minutes a radio message came through, "Patrol car No. 23 reporting... woman lying on the street.. Head bashed in.. G-d all-amighty, what a mess.. b.. b.. blood everywhere..!"

The muderous remains had been removed, and the only visible signs of the killing were on the blood spattered sidewalk and the worn brick of the nearby building, neatly enclosed by an official yellow tape. The violent puzzle needed solution, and the police officers had come to the flat to find the correct pieces and to fit them accordingly. They took note that the alerted elderly occupants were positive witnesses to the shocking murder.

The officers relaxed their stance after a few minutes; two leaned their hefty frames against a nearby wall, and the third stood in a relaxed poise. Cigarettes were pulled from packs, but returned upon a signal of non-smoking by the householder.

The detective, in charge of the team, had found a spare chair, which he placed opposite the witnesses. Then he draped his ample body on to its hardness. His pudgy hands searched through the depths of his coat pockets until a small notebook was found. After a short pause in looking for a clean sheet through the worn pages, the detective directed his attention to the head of the household, a balding slightly stooped man in the late sixties. The investigator, poised with a stub of a pencil, waited to record the words of the witness as the first question was forwarded. The elder's tired eyes searched out the face of his interrogator as he tried to comprehend the inquiry; his twisting fingers showed signs of nervousness. The question was asked again. He shook his grizzled head in an attempt to jog his memory to remembrance. Then in a rush, his agitated voice spelled out the answer.

"Let me see! Ah, ah heard a' screamin' this night... Shook me frum me bed... Ah'll never fergit thet screamin' fer th' rest of me life... No siree! Scared th' bejesus out of me.. It waz jest two long screams, an' then 'nother short one... Heard it well enough.. Me good woman always leavin' a window r' two open at night for a bit o' fresh air.. By the saints above t'was a' terrible goings-on... a real misery."

"Ain't it so me love," he called, as he turned to his equally edgy wife for assent.

The pensioner continued in his words by telling that when he went to the open window and looked down in the dismal street, he saw a burly figure bending over a fallen woman. Deep horror was expressed by his excited voice as his slurred phrases told of how the man re-peatedly punished the victim with a large clump of wood or heavy pipe. Puzzling words stated that the attacker was mainly striking the poor creature's head, "Jess on her noggin', bam, bam, bam... Real bad ah tell you, real bad... Couldn't do a' thing, not a blessed thing... Blessed scared ah waz...Ah was jest rooted this h'yar spot an' starin' at what was happenin' down below in th' street.. Jesus, Jesus t'was mighty terrible... th' miz'rable woman.. th' beatin'."
 

He gabbled on and told of the frenzied screams ejected by the attacker. Again there was puzzlement in his words, when he was unable to explain the attacker's repeated screaming curses; the words, to him, expressed bewilderment to their meaning. He thought that the assailant to be a crazy lunatic, as he continual yelled frenetically during the beating of the woman. The senior tried repeatedly to jog his mind to remember the explanatory words.

"Could only remember jest one thing he kept screamin' agin' an' agin'... jest this word... let me recollect.. . Wait a moment it be on th' tip of me tongue. .. Let me see... M. .M..Mo. ." Then the memory of the past incident cleared in his mind and he blurted out the word "MOLOCH". "MOLOCH", he repeated, "yeh thet's it, sure of it. "MOLOCH", funny word thet is, real funny. Don' know what it means... "

The elder rambled on and mumbled disjointed phrases, "Picked a nice spot for his jollies... Th' streets about here are mighty still at night... nobody about... th' area's gonna be knocked down; we r' about th' last ones livin' here... Jest tryin' to find a right place an' then we git out."

"Ain't it right love," related the elder, as he turned to the attention of his spouse whose lined face was etched with the thoughts of the past horror. She heard his words and showed her agreement with a simple nod of the head.

"Y' askin if me good women saw it too? Sure did.. The ruckus with all th' shoutin' by thet man cud ov woken th' devil himself.. Don't mean my missus - good gal she is..."

The excited senior told of how his everloving spouse, also woken by the noise, came to his side to have a look through the window. He explained when his wife witnessed the horror in the street, it caused her to have a fit of panic, coupled with finger pointing towards the ensuing incident, "Screamin' and pointin' with her finger at th' goings' on down in th' street. Shook her I did, my missus, y'know. A'feared th' bugger'll hear an' see us an' come after us. Don't want any trouble. No siree bob! Don' want any more trouble as ah 've 'nough of me own." The elder stopped for a moment in his rambling speechification, scratched his thinning hair, and stared at the detectives.

His hoary head was slightly beaded with sweat, as he told of his efforts to calm his wife; The excited elder explained of the difficulty he had, and only by shaking her, managed to control her. Words continued, that told how he was able to reason with his spouse, and of his instructions to her to put in a 911 call to the police. "Th' missus waz sure carryin' on but did as I tole her t'do an' she ran t' th' hall were we kept th' phone... . Then I went back t' me perch at the' window and when ah looked again' down in th' street, th' murderin' bastid was a' gone... an' thet poor women lying still-like on thet wet sidewalk."

The detective allowed a restful pause for the elder, as he slowly noted his worded account of the events of the murder. Then another question was fielded....and repeated....

"Yeh, ah' hear ya'! Y' asked If ah' kin describe him? Well, let me see. Didn't get a good look at his face...as all ah' saw ov' him was his back bent down over this por' women. Only his back with thet bloody stick in his hand goin' up an' down whackin' agin' an' agin' on thet por' woman's head. Thet's all. Yeh, all ah can spell out thet he was hefty and kinda tall. Looked like a bear all fitted up agin' th' cold...Real fierce like." He continued by stating that the attacker was bundled up in a heavy coat and that he was decked with a soldier-type hat with a rounded visor. He mention the chap's head was rather large, but was unable to give a description of the attacker's features due to the darkness of the hour.

And as an afterthought he threw in a few opinionated phrases... "D'yah suppose that there fellow I'd spotted was thet killer who goes about bumpin' off them thar red-haired women? Read in th' papers thet th' feller knocked ov about four r' five of them poor critters durin' th' past few months r' so. Th' papers write very bad things about you boys in th' police. Calls yer detec'tive work might sloppy... Ah think one paper called you fellers 'boy scouts in blue'.. don' mean t' be insultin'. Well all ah kin say, y' better find thet murderous critter b'fore he does it agin'..."

A glass of water was passed to the narrator, and, after finishing the refreshing coolness, he was questioned further..

"The time y's ask? Can't reckon the hour but t'was mighty late. Can remember thet th' rains had stopped... Let's see.. Went t' bed after th' late news at eleven. Ah think t'was jest when ah' had fallen asleep when I hear th' screamin'.. thet's all ah' kin tell. When y' talk with th' missus, maybe she'll know a bit more about th' time.."

The questions to the woman were the same, and her hesitant answers were more or less similar in content to those of her husband. Time passed quickly and the investigation came to a close. The detective hurriedly checked his notes, and, finding satisfaction closed the notebook. Then the men of authority arranged their overcoats and straightened headgear as they readied themselves for their exit. A polite offer of thanks and apologies were offered, and then they quickly made their way out of the apartment..

...and as the door opened, the dark spirits of the night whisked inside bringing the aura of menacing terror in the chill of the whispering winds.

 

 

Chapter Two

It was the hour of evil reserved for the Devil when the news of vicious murders hovered; all signed with the same memo. The Prince of Darkness chortled in his gall, and he rubbed his hands in glee as the printed pages featured its grisly accounts. The excited words on the radio broadcasting gruesome details, the pictured scenes on the television channels bringing the vile horror to the sight of the viewer added to his delight. Fear and terror were his poisonous offerings, and he served them to those who were threatened by his presence in the blackness of stalking death.

The spirits of fear flew rapidly through the corridors of the city spreading their deep terror - a unknown sound, a unfamiliar sight, a whisper, a shout, a flash of a shadow in the darkened gloom of the night hours added to the fearful anticipation that coursed through the senses. Those that were in need of treading through the silent passages in the shaded evening hours continually looked sharply in their sight; their hearing keenly alert, as they made their vigilant and cautious way. All felt the deadly spirits of fear.

The state of terror coursed through the metropolis. Women with the colour red in their hair felt its cold fibers, as they alone were the main sacrificial lambs of the stalking killer. The solitary creature, on her own and without the comfort of a companion, trusted the graces of the good Lord as she made her way to evening religious rights. Those in the limelight felt safe in an available taxi: Nurses on night duty were convoyed by offical authorities: The escorted ones trusted the strength of their mates when they made their way to evening revelery. But there were women, blinded by despair or drink, which wandered about in the dark nights totally oblivious to their safety.

The demoniac apprehension of the night hours encroached on those who had no reason to fear. The man-of-the-house tightly enclosed him-self in the safety of his home, rarely venturing into the uninviting streets; the policeman on duty took caution, hand near his weapon; the taxi driver was wary to prospective passengers and at times drove off with an empty vehicle. But, there were those who trusted to their strength and to fate, and dared the emissaries of fear.

The spirits of fear increased in the mind of those traversing the nightly passage; the sighted frightening apparitions of the consorts of terror appeared to them in various guises in the darkening hours. The ghostly presence was at times sighted coursing the empty streets; the quiet of hour was, at times, broken by the haunted sound of following weary footfalls. A quick turn of the head and the widened eyes of the frightened searched out the gloom. Nothing in sight... The now trembling limbs of the innocent trod stealthily the cold passages. Cautiously, cautiously ... Then the sound of the slinky footsteps was heard again... coming closer, closer... A pause, a silent scream as the terrified being froze in stance, hiding in the depth of the shadows. Closer, closer drummed the beat of the footsteps... Then the ghostly apparition appeared. Either an extended dirty hand was seen in supplication, or it was heard by a whining beckoning call in the guise of sexual offering by a slatternly dressed harlot. The ugly sight of a dishevelled, discarded human derelict, or pictured by a garishly adourned and painted slut, added to the shivers of icy terror. Coins were quickly offered from fumbling hands, or negative answers were called out by the fearful as they hurried away.

A sacrificial lamb was always found and plucked from the flowing stream, be it a woman that took care or one who was oblivious to the nightly terror. She suffered cruelly the merciless hand of a 'Serial Killer'. And her blungeoned body, with the signs of a cruel punishment on the red of the hair, was found crumbled and discarded the next morning. Five women in all were recorded as victims of this inhumane killer, perhaps others. No plausible reason for the heinous crimes; no clues to the identity of the cruel murderer were in evidence. Only a strange word that was shouted over and over in the course of the murderous acts - "MOLOCH" - a word taken from the ancient past.

The aura of death still lingered in the vapours in the cold air of the night. Seven days passed, maybe longer. Then, without warning, the still of the night was again disturbed by menacing forces. The sound of the boom of a taut-drum and the blare of a primal horn was whis-pered in the flow of the winds; it signalled in its beating cadence the coming of the fire-god, the Moloch. The pagan god with his emissaries of shadow spirits and winged demons wafted silently and unseen through the mysteries of the night as they searched for the sacrificial lamb. They raced swifly on the flowing air through the darkened passages of the silent city leaving behind slight traces on the damping mist of the murky night. Through their cunning eyes they saw the coming of the damnation of the hunt that will bring the chosen one to the fiery pit of sacrifice.

 

 

 

Chapter Three

The misshapen shadow in the sinister guise of a man danced slowly on the darkened buildings; up and down the stealthy shadow played on the deserted structures as it followed the thickset man who crept in the quiet of the lonely hours of the night. The shadow spread when the furtive stalker quickly crossed a debris-strewn alley then narrowed as it passed.

The ghostly shape paused in its macabre dancing as its partner grasped the collar of his heavy coat; pausing to gulp air through his sickly lungs. The shadow repeatedly bowed and lifted its form as the stalker agonized over the pain. His chest heaved as the constricted passage wheezed and swallowed grasping pockets of air. Slowly the breathing returned to its normal pulse. Then again the shadow of the man resumed its demoniac dancing on the worn brickwork facades.

Through the still corridors of the meandering streets and alleys, cold intermittent winds blew their eerie notes in cadence with the stalking shadow. The winds stirred up bits of paper, which joined their ghostly images to the silent creeping shadow on the walls. The fluttering attendants danced sprightly around the darkened spirit of the slowly moving figure; they touched lightly the ghostly shadow and then retreated from its grasp. Up and down the delicate images of the paper danced flightily on the brickwork of the worn buildings casting a lurid tableau; their flickering movements, orchestrated by the strength of the varying winds, winged their shadowy outlines to a haunting rhythm.

Dimly lit street lamps cast their gloomy light along the throrough-fares. Sudddenly, from a deserted alley, yellowish eyes mirrored the glint of the light, then another, and another. The yellow shining points flickered to the right, then to the left. A sharp angry hissing sound was spitted through the still air; a furious snarl was heard, followed by short fierce caterwauling. Within moments the demoniac noise abated and the eerie silence of the night returned to the darkened streets.

Another pause as the ghostly silhoutte straightened its contorted limbs; then melted into a shadow casted by a tall building. The cautious stalker was disturbed by a flash of brilliance from a partly curtained window that beamed a faded streak of light onto the quiet street. The momentary reflection of light revealed his prey, namely a frumpish woman in her middle years making a tottery way through the dark of the night. Her stout figure was bundled in the warmth of her clothing with her head crowned with a decorative kerchief that partially covered her shock of poorly rinsed reddish hair.

The hesitant footfalls of her feet, encased in high-heeled shoes, stumbled haltingly as the woman made her way through the deserted streets; the unsteady clicking of her heels greatly disturbed the silence of the hour with the foulness of its sound.

Suddenly she stopped and, in the middle of the still passage, the unsteady figure pirouetted in a parody of a dance, accompanied by the notes of her wavering off-tune voice. A dim street lamp spotlighted her erratic performance and cast the wavering shadow as her partner. "Lah ti dah, lah ti dah," she sang to a tune remembered from the past. "Lah ti dah," she sang in a slurred voice as she raised her arms to conduct the rendering of the melody known to her from the past. A mis-step as the woman tripped over her erratic feet; bending and weaving with arms outstretched she slowly caught her balance. A loud harsh laughter was ejected from her rasping throat as the figure, upright and slightly unsteady, straightened herself. Then marking her footfalls carefully step by step, the inebriate woman continued her meandering through the murky and still streets.

As she stumbled along, bobbing and weaving, one of her unsteady feet tripped over a discarded flattened tin can and again the woman's stout legs interwined with each other. Her body wavered erratically as she attempted to catch her balance. The lush floundered on the irregular movement of her feet as she tried to reach the safety of a nearby building. With wavering arms and rubbery legs the woman rambled towards the brickworks; her hands grasped the coarsness of the bricks feeling its steadiness. "Whewee!" she slurred, "Thash was a close one..." And laughingly she added a loud belch as an afterthought.

The alert stalker, hidden slightly in the dark recesses of a building, watched the movements of the drunken figure. The woman was unknown to him; she was only linked to his sight and memory through her streaked reddish hair, the supposed same red hair that crowned the head of his feared haunting, a Miz' Jezebel, his cursed and avenging mother. The woman, to him, was a reminder of the living form of his late mother thought to be rotting in the deep earth. The sight of the resurrected apparition increased the torment of hate that raced through his demented mind, "D-Damn ye, d-damn ye," he cursed inwardly, directing the damnation of the harsh words towards the unsteady hussy whose appearance tormented his very being.

His rambling thoughts continued in the memory of the past. It was that she-devil, Miz' Jezebel, his mother, who had, time and time again, cursed and harassed him throughout his life with the fear of damnation in the tortures of the hell-fire. He had to suffer the torment of her damnation and retribution that was vented for her spiteful lips. Her wrathful words constantly spoke about his supposed sins, which in her eyes was committed through the evil direction of the devil himself. Anger coursed his mind as remembered his mother's vehement tongue as it cursed his so-called errant ways. She constantly talked of the fierce retribution of the fierce sacrificial pit of the fire god, the Moloch that would result from his sinning actions.

Yet, it was only through his sinful act of carrying out an act of wrongful retribution that he feared the burning pit of damnation. Through a fit of demented rage he had thrown the living body of Miz' Jezebel into a destructive conflagration that destroyed her corrupted existence and all that she possessed. He could not understand that, through this act, his mother's soul was carried away forever to the keeping of the Lord or of the devil, never to return. But the dementia of the crazed man only saw the mocking image in front of his eyes as the return of his haunting mother, and not a harmless creature that enjoyed the revelery of the liquid spirits of the bottle.

Time and time again he had seen her devilish and fearful shadow wafting through the darkened and forebidding streets; an avenging apparition that continued to haunt him with its presence. Each time there was the feverish hunt to commit the final and lasting retribub tion upon Miz' Jezebel, the feared form of his mother. The stalker shivered as he remembered the past miserable nightly coursings through the cold and gloomy streets. He had repeatedly overwhelmed the cursed phantom and rained blow after blow on her red haired skull, sending her back to the foul depths of the outer world. Now again the threatening spirit reappeared, haunting him again with the threats of the sacrificial fires of eternal hell.

Evil shadow spirits and sinister demons in the guise of damnation cast their foulness through the demented mind of the crazed man. They flew about in the tattered imagination of his condemning guilt, taunting him with their sight. The guilty figure's thoughts revolved and it depicted the foul hell fires of the depths of nether world; from the deep recess of his mind he pictured the mire of hell and the sight of the devil grinning in all his wickedness. The poisoning plague of madness overflowed, and in a deadly rage the crazed figure ran towards his prey.

He quickly rose above the haunted apparition; his shadow inter-twined in hers; the woman turned slightly at the black shape that hovered over her. Deep fear was etched on her intoxicated features as her watery eyes glared at the menacing figure. Before she could act or call out, the hefty man lifted a thick cudgel, and, with a fierce rage, slammed the cruel weapon on her head. Again and again he beat upon the red of her hair. "Y-You'll not s-send me t' th' 'Moloch'. Y-you'll not m-make me burn, " the demented voice screamed.

At the first blow the stunned woman let out a long howl of pain and fear. But her diminishing voice was quickly blanketed with the insane screams of her attacker that was repeated over and over, as each crushing blow beat their rhythm of cruel death on her fading reddish hair, "Moloch, Moloch, y'll not t-take me t' thet devil!!"

With a desperate effort the pitiful creature, damned for the colour of her hair, pulled her hands from the wall and tried to cover her battered head from further blows. Her actions from an unsteady body lead her to be beaten to the cold pavement. The woman uttered not a sound as she slid onto the dirt of the street, enveloped in the throes of death... the fading red of her hair enriched by the flowing scarlet of her blood.

The hefty man ceased in the cruel beating on the head of the un-fortunate creature and the shouting of his foul curses against her being. The breath of his diseased throat gasped the gulps of needed air. He knew that his devilish work was completed as he surveyed the carnage of his muderous act. A slight grimace was etched on his thick lips that showed satisfication of the final retribution that had sent the cruel soul of his mother back again to the confines of the devil and her corrupt flesh to the god of fire, the Moloch. A final curse from his fleshy lips was flung at the beaten and bloody corpse as the stalker turned and walked away; the sound of his weighty footfalls slowly diminished in the still passages of the night.

 

 

Chapter Four

The haunted man's early life was centered on a small settlement set in a hollow carved from the nearby hills; its thin clayey soil covered thick seams of buried coal. The scraggy layer was dotted with dilapitated shotgun shacks that held precariously to the hard packed earth.

Coal was the life and bread of the area. Its foul breath smoked through chimneys of the nearby colliery; its corruption tainted the air and blackened the water that flowed throughout the high valley. Its signs were everywhere from the coal wagons lining the rail tracks, to the seemingly endless conveyor belts that brought the bitumen from the depths, to the nearby ever-growing slag heaps. It was marked on the coal dusted bodies of those who dug in the pits, the greying laundry on the lines to the brown stained leaves of the struggling plants and trees.

It was a kingdom ruled through the believing words of the Good Book, that in its prophetic words, tried to direct the good folk of the community in the hollow to the path of righteousness. The time worn pages showed the way and those who strayed were told of the fierce retribution that awaits them. "Thou shalt not, and if so, the punishing eternal curse of damnation is one's just reward," the pious ones cried out reverently.
 

The 'Good Book' was the king, and his knights the righteous words, ruled precariously this kingdom. Their rule of the realm was in danger of collapse as they were in constant battle with the Devil Sin and all his emmissaries of dark evil. Both sides battled for the control of the kingdom, fighting with all their powerful weapons in their arsenals.

The winds howled and whistled as they blew in fury. Miz' Jezebel's haunting voice called louder to the departed soul of her man. Her tone disturbed the whispering shadow spirits as they wafted in the air currents. Their presence was stilled when they circled the grave and listened to her cry. They heard the harshness of her voice as she completed the uttering of the mystic spell:

 

As her mysterious words wafted in the air, the winds rose up and swirled in fury around the grave; it drummed on the mound until the red earth thunderously split open. "Abrasax, yahu, yah, yah," was called again. When the phrase ended, a mist rose rose from earthbound tomb, slowly forming into a wispy, shadowy shape of a human figure wrapped in a tattered shroud. "Who be a' callin' me, wakin' me frum me rest? Who be a' callin me?" the spirit exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

"Lemmuel, Lemmuel, d'ye see me!" baited the words of Miz' Jezebel, "Abrasax, Yah, Yah, Yahu!" Then she approached the shadowy figure and, in anger, cursed him with angry phrases that spewed the spleen of the misery of the past. She lowered her arms to the hem of her long black dress. With fury she lifted the cloth high, "Take a look, thet's all ye can do now, jest look. Ye drove in powerful' like wit no word frum me an' frum thet sin ah am a' cursed by th' Moloch." Quickly she lowered her garment and stared at the angry ghost. Then Miz' Jezebel cackled hideous bursts of laughter, the pitch rising with the rage of inner anger that burned deeply in her soul.

The ghostly form of Lemmuel shook violently at her words; its temper flared and it lurched out as if to strike his woman but it suceeded in going through her body. Again and again it tried with the same results as Miz' Jezebel continued in the cursing of his soul. She called him vile names that told of his sinning habits that led to the beating of her body. Each damning sentence followed by bitter cackling laughter. The damnation pained the ghostly figure and it cried out in a moaning voice for her to stop. But Miz' Jezebel continued in her damnation above the plaintive cries.

"Now ye kin know of th' misery ye caused me!" she exclaimed. Then she raised her arms again and called out the secret incantation:

 

As the words of the incantation finished the winds howled and blew in their fury. Her trance-like eyes stared at the sealed grave that opened to her words. From the depth of the open tomb spectral hands of the souls of the dead rose and grasped the shadowy spirit and dragged it within. The ground closed with a burst of thunderclap and the earth, once again, covered the corrupt remains of Lemmuel. Then stillness hovered over the grave; only the whispering sounds of the shadow spirits of the night could be heard as they flew about.

Slowly the deep trance that engulfed Miz' Jezebel's faded from her mind and her consciousness returned; slowly, slowly she lowered her arms. She stared at the packed earth of her late husband's grave and silently inhaled a breath of relief. Her breathing turned to sobbing as she cried bitter tears over her foul sin of revenge; as the tears flowed she turned her head heavenwards as if to ask the pardon of the good Lordy.

Miz' Jezebel did have one witness to her act. Jeremiah, her son born in sin, had followed her stealthily one night on the full moon. He had heard her movements as she left the house and, through curiosity, decided to go after her. His bare feet trod steathily at some distance behind her, being careful not to be seen.

He had hidden behind a tall tombstone and heard her calling out to her man coupled with foul curses. He saw the swirling of the dust above the grave upon the call of the magic words. Then, as he looked, the violence of the winds increased in its tempo and roared about him, deafening the harsh and damning words of Miz' Jezebel and he was unable to follow his mother's vengeful phrases. The dust joined in the fury and rose up and blinded his eyes to the sight of his mother's acts of the deep pent-up rage of her soul.

The boy, young in years, had been deeply puzzled by her action of calling up the spirit of his father but the needed answers never came, as he was afraid to ask. The only witnesses to what he had seen were the imaginary creatures of his mind that hovered about him and they too were puzzled.

Still the secret of Miz’ Jezebel, Jeremiah's vengeful mother, was never revealed by him. His mother carried the mystery of the cursed sin, committed under the full of the moon, to her fiery grave.

 

 

Chapter Seven

Miz' Jezebel, her neighbors and kin folk lived in their hard and miserable existence under the protection and wisdom of the 'Lordy', guided by the good preacher of their parish church. Every word they uttered was coupled with the blessings and wishes of the "Lordy' - "Th' 'Lordy' bless y'" or "thank th' 'Lordy' fer his goodness an' kindness." They were also highly superstitious regarding every unatural action or the presence of strange omens as symbols of poten-tial doom, which they they remedied with Biblical quotations such as "May th' 'Lordy' look upon ye and bless yer soul and keep y' fit."

They had a deep belief in the powers of amulets such as fox tooth, which they held as a death and rebirth symbol. They had a deep faith in the 'preservin' stone', a small polished stone found in the creek in the mystery of the night: The good women considered it to be effective against still birth and for protection of their 'young-uns'. They called out as they reverently touched the stone, "I-am-who-I-am. Amen, Amen Selah - In the the name of the holy ones, heal and guard the unborn and the little ones."

Their miserable hovels were adourned with the needed symbols of good luck. The crescent-shaped horseshoe turned upwards represented the horns of power and protection; never inverted as it would be emptied of power and luck. Other forms of luck symbols were displayed, that ran from the coon' tail, a dried hoof of a wild pig to a furry white foot of a jackrabbit. Every time they passed these omens, they would reverently touch them in their hope for good fortune.

Many of the good folk of the settlement feared the workings of the grinning wicked devil with his horde of avenging angels, the spiteful acts of the demons and the mysterious ways of the shadow spirits. They had the continual dread of the evil eye, evil thoughts, pure spirits, of the creatures of the lower world and from all other imaginative evil tormentors. All their troubles, sickness and other miseries were blamed on these creatures in the fancy of their realm of thought. When they were ridden with one trouble or another they would try to remedy the problem with secret incantatations remembered from the past or through rituals surrounding mysterious amulets.

Those, who had the deep belief of the creatures of the spectral world, only saw them in their secret lairs, namely the hidden shadows of the nearby woods and along the flowing water within. They warned the good folk of the presence of damning spirits, vile demons and other forms of cursed ghosts in the shadowy forest, especially during the fullness of the moon. The good folk took heart to the warning words of the believers and took caution if they needed to tred through the woods in the darkness of the night.

 

Of course there were the sinners of the community who would go to that place near the junction and enjoy a bit of loving from Miz' Sadie's gals, "Mighty purty lasses - costs only a buck for a bit of jig-jig." Miz' Sadie's girls took the coin and offered the pleasure of its worth. The righteous ones of the community damned these sinners for their wicked acts in sleeping with fallen women; at the Sunday chapel services they would pray to the heavens above that the sinner's hearts will open and they will see the wickedness of their ways and repent. Otherwise the virtuous ones feared that the fornicators would go, like the all sinners, to the fiery sacrificial pit of the Moloch, and their souls will rot in the foulness of hell.

But the main sinners, in the eyes of the righteous, were those who guzzled at every chance they could muster. Those sinning folk liked the taste from the jar of white-lightning, even on the night before the Sunday-go-to-meeting service. They gathered outside the general store; there, under the branches of a nearby age-old willow, they would pass around the glass admist a few words of small talk centered on the current gossip or minor scandal whispered through their neighborhood. Their brand, properly aged over a period of a few days, was 'mighty powerful', and after a few belts of the devil's potion the drinkers activity turned into a minor debauchery of high-jinks and raucous bellowing.

The goings-on was carried to the late hours until the wife of the proprietor of the emporium was disturbed in her nightly rest in her small apartment above. She would rush angrily from her bed to the gathering, looking like the devil incarnate with her face covered in a white flour beauty mask and her hair in curlers. With an angry shrill, like the call of an angry spirit, she stopped the merriment with a few harsh words calling it for the night. And woe to a reveller who lingered as she was mighty handy with a broom which she, on many occasions, put to use.

"Hit' weren't th' broom we r' afered ov. T'aint so.. T'was facing a scarey fierce demon by th' looks ov hit," the revelers tried to explain in their foggy misery at the following morning.

 

 

Chapter Eight

The routine of life for the folk in the settlement was one of scrappy toil. It repeated its boring and tedious ritual, day after day, week after week, year after year, disturbed only by the news of a tragic event committed by folly of man or by the avenging sword of nature. Only at the Saturday night ritual gathering at the Grange Hall at the center of the settlement, and at other odd times would their tedious mode of life be changed by joyful occurences.

Monday till Saturday were workdays offering hard labour in at the colliery in the earning of their bread. The men on the day shift rose at dusk of the early morning hours. They gathered at their usual meeting point and from there trudged together the odd mile through the dust or mud of the wide dirt road to their labours. All were more or less dressed and booted similarly in the soiled attire of their work and equally topped with a lamp bearing safety helmet. Along the way one or two would ask a friend to hold their lunch pail as there was a need to roll and light a hand-made. Talk was limited to the usual drift of words that was spoken in its the somewhat routine sameness every morning, primarily of the welfare of the individual families. And at odd moments the trend of their talk would be be focused on a happening in the workings of the mine, or general tidbits of gossip circulating the community. Rarely would there be a bit of light bantering or even a flash of a smile on their grim faces.

Their women, after seeing that their men had their breakfast, scam-pered about their houses doing a bit of tidying up and getting the mound of washing ready. They only stopped for moment to hand the lunch pail to their men, and rarely gave a quick peck on the rough cheeks as they saw their mates leave their hearths for their jobs at the pits. The women folk, who had the misery of their men on the night shift at rest in their beds, had to tred carefully in order to avoid the wakening of her man; thunderous words were heaped upon a poor woman if sleep was disturbed.

All the 'female critters' followed the tiring and repetitive rhythm of their daily existence. They woke their offsprings at the appointed hour to get them, fed, dressed and ready for their 'learnin' under the capable and stern tutelage of Miz' Lizzy, the school marm'. After ridding themselves of their children, the women folk carried on their chores. She had the routine jobs of tiding the shack a bit, readying the kerosene lamps, slopping the pigs, scattering seed to the scratching chickens, washing a heap of dirty clothing on scrub boards in deep tubs and doing the rest of the woman's work.

When the men-folk returned from their toils at the colliery it would be an equally routine event. The good woman of each individual shotgun shack was alert as she waited to hear the calls of the fellow workers bidding a good night to her man. Upon their sounds of their voices, she rushed from her shack to ready a filled bucket of clear water and sliver of laundry soap along with his clean clothes near the entrance to the shed alongside their shotgun shack. There the tired man stripped to his waist and cursorily washed the coal dust from his chest and face; then bending his body he splashed the remainder of the water over his head. He straighted his somewhat cleaned frame and rubbed the wetness and some of the unwashed coal marks with strips of rags. After changing into his clean clothes, he returned to his shack and joined his family for the evening meal.

The mealtime was a feared time for both the wife and her brood, as they did not know the prevalent mood of her man. The good woman trembled as she set the deal table. Cutlery, cracked plates and chipped tin cups were laid out, together with a pitcher of cool water, a cut of crusty wheaten bread on the cutting board, and the banal offering of plates of fat back, taters, and greens and at rare times a deep dish of custard pudding. The hard-bitten man would stare into the familiar foodstuffs heaped on shallow platters and bitterly complained to his woman for not giving him better food, without realizing that a good portion of his earned wages went to the jar of liquid spirits.

Before the family partook of the meal, the old man called attention to the Good Lord. The good woman and her children bowed their heads and clasped their hands to their chests as their bread earner would intone the blessing on the food, "Dear Lordy we thank thee fer th' food we r' about t' eat which we give r' blessin'...." As he finished he turned to the members of his family and exclaimed, "Dig in!"

Not a word from the old man was uttered at the table that showed pleasure or displeasure. Nor was their any sound from his good wife and his blessed children who carefully ate their meal in silence so as not to disturb the old man. The only sound that was loudly heard was was from the householder himself, as he scraped the food from the shallow platters onto his plate, smacked his lips on each bite of food, and when he slurped noisely the water from a chipped cup. After the meal was finished, the surly man then gave a hearty belch that showed his satisfaction of a filled stomach.

The routine of the evening life continued with the man of the house plunging into his favourite armchair. A hush would follow and the children remained silent as the father tuned up the battery radio to hear the news. Afterwards he turned the nobs till the sound of country music could be heard. There would be leniency shown by the father to his children as he allowed them to sing or clodhop to the rhythm; more for his enjoyment when he watched them sing or dance. The good woman, too, enjoyed the pleasure of her children's moment of happiness. She joined in by lifting her skirt a bit and letting her feet slide to the beat of the music; her nasal pitched voice joined in the singing. A moment of harmony that was shared by the whole family till the call of bedtime.

 

The man of the house usually accepted his lot with only a great deal of grumbling much to the relief of his good woman and her children. But, when his mood would be filled with foulness or meaness, it would end with a thrown plate, coupled with angry words and with a stinging slap either to his woman or to one of his children. The sound of the slamming of the door followed; his footsteps were then heard trudging the dusty path to his fellows and the passing of the jar.

When all was quiet the good woman would sit terrified on a hard chair in the kitchen of the shack; her heart filled with bitterness. She sat on its hardness in fear, dreading the return of her husband, who, in all probabilities, was soaked in the vile of the liquid spirits. Her body shuddered in the expectation of his return. She knew he would be filled with a drunken fury that usually led to a terrible beating mixed with the temper of his tongue.

With eyes filled with tears of helplessness, mixed with the futile rage on the miseries of her existence, she called out to the Lordy for deliverance. But no reply came...

 

Chapter Nine

Throughout the daily life in the parish, set in the hollow, there were times of hoarded bits of joy. It was a joy approved or overlooked by the censoring eyes of righteous minority who were the moral watch-dogs of the community. The laws, they believed, were set down by the good 'Lordy' and were written in the pages of the 'Good Book'; laws that His children should strictly obey as they will lead the good folk to walk in the path of righteousness. This edict was drummed ritually in the hell-for-fire sermons at every Sunday chapel service.

The 'righteous ones' had their joy in their weekly Bible study classes or in the choral practice at their chapel; the blessed words gave them pious rapture and they reveled in their meaning. They expected the young men and women of the settlement to join them in their pleasure, but those that were there came only through the pressure of their folks.The growing adolescents preferred the picture shows featured at the movie house in a larger town nearby. They would pile in their second-hands and drive down. Within the 'theater' the loving couples took to the rear seats; they paid little attention to the showing of the film, and only enjoyed the clinching of bodies and wet smacking kisses - and at times the young men tried to have the feel of hard nipples on ample breasts. "Keep yer mitts away frum thar," would be the girl's playful answer of protestation.

The older ones preferred the call of the 'coon' hunt on a moonlit night, the rolling sound of the billards in the basement of the Grange Hall. The also enyoyed the time old habit of finding a comfortable perch in the center, near the mine office, where they guzzled beer and ogled the odd female. The hardbitten ones gathered nightly near the general store for the taste of the jar and the gabble of senseless gossip.

There was in the time back when there was a miner who took an interest in the brush and oils whose works were judged to be 'mighty good' by his kin and neighbors. The oils were a primitive reflection of nature's bounty, the colliery and its workings, and, now and again, human figures in play or work. But the pious 'righteous one's' looked upon his creations as the work of the devil and they condemned him and his paintings. The believers of the Word witnessed the 'Lordy's' retribution when one day, without reason, the miner and his family packed their belonging in their pickup truck and left the community. "The fiery sword of the 'Lordy' drove them heathens away," was the sanctified reasoning of the pious.

But... there was one event that was ritually shared by the community. On Saturday nights many of the good folk gathered at the Grange Hall for the dancing and the sound of the song, a weekly event that was look forward for its pleasure, during the toils of the week. The 'righteous ones' looked askanse at the gathering, ignoring its very presence. They dared not interfere, as their attempt of holiness would meet with derision.

With the strumming of the guitar, the plucking of the banjo, and the scraping of the fiddle, the growing adolescents, mixed with a few oldsters, clodhopped to the rhythm of its notes. The boards of the Grange Hall reverbrated with the joy of the dancers. "Yeah, yeah - Yahwhooo," they called loudly as they jerked their knees and shuffled their booted feet from stiffish bodies; their arms hung limply along their bodies, barely moving to the vibrant beat of the music.

During the pauses they would enjoy the refreshing taste of beer or soda pop as they listened to the songs of the hills. Some would quietly sing or hum together with the singer. The words of the songs spoke of blissful love, the parting of kith and kin, the bountiful blessings of the Good Lord, and the notes that spelled out sadness. They listened to the soulful ballads whose words were akin to their very lives. The songs held the attention of the gathered audience, and their moist eyes visioned the meaning of the words; their hearty applause after the rendition of the ballads showed their appreciation.

Jeremiah Micaiah a growing boy, two years short of his adolescent years, was amoungst the appreciative audience. Dressed in a clean shirt and britches stretched on his lanky frame, he watched the goings-on. He was there along with a troupe of young-uns that stood at the rear of the hall watching the movements of the dancers; their youthful feet kept cadence to the rhythm of the music.

Jeremiah looked on at a repeated scene, namely one of which a daring boy would grab a fetching little lass, and together, at a quiet corner of the hall, they would try to emulate the dancers; their inexperience feet, at the beginning, clodhopped to the correct steps. But as they continued, their feet entangled in the attempt; after a few moments it would lead to near tumble. Laughter followed from the two on the nearness of their fall. Their compatriots would clap their hands in an attempt to encourage the two to continue but their shyness prevented it. Their refusal ended with boos and other catcalls, "Nyaah, both youse r'sissies. .. afferd t' to do it agin', nyaahh!!".. "Boo, boo, more, more c'mon jest one more time... "

"Aw shucks, leave us alone," as the young gallant would take his partner's hand and drag her away from their jeering friends. A bottle of fizzy pop, shared by the two, usually compensated their past effort in their dance attempt.. Both would giggle on what they had done and slowly but slowly their words softened as they stared into each other's eyes indicating continual intimacy.

Young Jeremiah simply watched the goings-on quietly; his so-called strangeness prevented him from taking part. The other youngsters considered him a loner. Unknown to all he preferred the creatures of his deep imagination as his constant companions. There were the blessed creatures of the Lordy to direct his way and when sinful he was surrounded by monsters and demons of the deep circling around and threatening the hell-fire.

Jeremiah sometimes talked to them in the simplicity of his childish fantasy, especially the good creatures of the Lordy; and the other young'uns who saw him in conversation thought him to be a mighty queer critter. It wasn't queerness that prompted those imaginary conversations but deep shyness that kept him apart from the others. They didn't understand, even thought he was possessed, and they kept a distance from him, never bothering to ask him to join them.

But, on the Saturday nights, he was happy just to watch the dancing and listening to the tunes; and sometimes, a sly smile would cross his thin worrisome face as his watched the antics of the other youngsters. .. And, at odd times, A samaritan, namely a co-worker of his late departed pa, would treat him to a bottle of cool pop.

 

 

Chapter Ten

There were the hidden secrets of joy and pleasure that were carried out on the Saturday nights, and were kept from the prying eyes and the all-hearing ears of the blue noses. A few young couples, daring the sin of carnality, met in darkened corners of the Grange building or at the nearby growth of bush and stunted pine. Their wet lips met in smacking embraces; male lips coursed the whiteness of the neck and their hands felt for the touch of the body. Rough hands opened the buttons of blouses to reach the softness of youthful breasts and the touch of hardened nipples. Protests were limited as skirts were lifted and course fingers ran along the curve of the belly till it caressed the soft downy pubic hairs and the wetness of the passage that culminated into climax. Softer hands entered opened pants and fondled the hardness of extended members till white seed was spilled on the hard earth; and, at times through pressure, a young girl would be enticed to nibble on an extended phallus till pleasure ensued.

They groaned in the sensuality of their touching and kissing and showed little shame at their enjoyment at the borders of sexual love. Usually only one or two pairs of feverish youngsters attempted to the complete their heated fondling through the coupling of their bodies. But there was fear in the act by the many wary pairs as it usually ended with an extended belly and the rights of marriage conducted through the insistence of a double-barreled.

Yet, some were seen, spied upon as they necked and fondled in darkened sites behind the Grange hall. Their audience, at most times, was an innocent youngster who came near their trysting point simply to answer the call of nature; the boy was just too lazy to descend the few stairs to the toliets in the basement of the hall. He accidently came across the hidden spot of lovers; and in awe and with a bit of curiosity, he stopped and watched the going-on... And at times, for-getting his needs to pass water, the youngster went quietly to his friends and called to them to watch the sexual performance. The little devils came, found a hidden spot and became an appreciative audience. It usually ended without applause as the young-uns couldn't help giving their encouragement to the performers, "Aww stuff hit' up hers," followed by high-pitched laughter coupled with the sound of hurrying feet. Shortly afterwards the instigator felt the wetness that flowed from a forgotten stream and was now trickling in his trousers.

Sexual flirting continued at various times as it sweetened the bitter lives of the growing adolescents. The mine called for the young men at fourteen and at the age of sixteen the girls were reminded of the marital bed. And the stiffness of religious edicts that called for righteousness crippled their youthful existence and plagued them continually.

It became a need and sexually hungry pairs searched out new secret places, which they hoped would not be seen by prying eyes. The weekly jaunts to movies with its necking and touching was sufficient for the moment; but the meetings behind the Grange hall, in freight cars near the colliery, and other hidden spots around the center added climax to their sensual coupling. A few dared to meet in the mysterious of the nearby darkened forest with the flow of the shadow spirits and hidden demons; and their sexual delight was heightened by hidden fear from a terrible spell by those mythical creatures of the night.

Yet, sometimes they were spotted by the prying eyes of a Nosey-Parker, namely a bitter old spinster or a Holy Joe, who’s wagging tongues gabbled in the irate ears of a father or mother. It usually led to the boy being dragged by the lobe of his ear to the shed, and the stinging of the leather belt slapped on bare buttocks; the label of sin was seen through the shorn hair of the girl.


Chapter Eleven

The hoarded bits of joy, at precious moments, extended to the gifts of nature. It was given in the flowing of the water, the largesse of the nearby forest, and in the skies above.

The younger boys of the settlement were grateful and they showed it in their rough and tumble play as they swam in the depth of the flowing creek during the hot muggy days of the summer months. They enjoyed the cool refreshing water shaded under the extending branches of the gnarled wild oaks along the banks. The shade of the trees covered their nakedness as they stretched their supple limbs on the fallen leaves and the coarse weeds.

Somehow, there at the creek, Jeremiah was accepted by the other boys his age and he was able to join the fun; there he was just one of the gang. Despite his gawky thin body he was a good swimmer and he could outdistance any of the best... and he excelled in swinging on the thick rope tied to one of the overhanging tall branches of a tree along the shore. He gripped the slim rope and with a loud Tarzan yell of 'Yahooo' swung over the creek, and with another wild yell let go and fell in the coolness of the water.

The summer months brought other gifts of nature. Bushes near the creek and in the nearby forest were crammed with delicious berries and the youngsters, with pails in hand, gathered the ripening fruit. They never failed to bring a hoard of the tempting fruit to their waiting folks. Miz' Jezebel, Jeremiah maw, baked her son's gathering into mouth-watering pies.... and during the Fall, there were other gifts; the gathering of the hickory nuts and chestnuts which offered their delicious tastes.

The months of the budding and the falling of the leaves brought out the fishing pole with a fat worm dangling on the sharp hook. Jeremiah was good in throwing the line in the flowing creek and Miz' Jezebel, his maw, would have some mouth watering catfish spitting their aroma at they fried in the pan.

The nip of the cold air of the autumn nights brought out the baying of the hounds on the 'coon' hunt through the darkened forest filled with the winging of shadow spirits. The hunters, mainly the miners on a night out, hefted their trusty shotguns as they dared the mysteries of the shadowy woods for the elusive animal; some donned their safety helmets with their shining lamps for the search and for the protection against demons and shadow spirits. Jeremiah, carrying his late father's shotgun, would be amougst the group; and there was that time when the racoon was treed he heard the voice of one of the hunters call out, "Let Lemmuel's boy take the first shot." And true to his aim, Miz' Jezebel would have some meat for the pot and a coon's tail for one of her charms.

The gifts of nature was one of the bits of sweetness in the bitterness of the life of Miz' Jezebel. The largesse of nature was considered by her to be a gift of the 'Lordy' to his believers. When Jeremiah brought these fruits to her and before its acceptance, she dropped on her knobby knees and offered a prayer of thanksgiving to her benefactor in the heavens above. There was hardly a thought of gratitude to her son after her prayers. Jeremiah was simply grateful, when she rose, that his mother didn't berate him for any supposed acts of sinning in the gathering of nature's bounty.

 

 

Chapter Twelve

All was not joy at or near the flowing waters of the creek. The tragic happening that dampened the pleasures of nature's bounty occured on the twelfth year of Jeremiah's life. It was the usual gathering of the youngsters on the hot summer's day at the coolness of the creek. There was the usual rough and tumble play and swimming until a small gang of known young roughnecks of the hollow appeared and trouble ensued. They were few in number, six in all, but their threatening appearance was enough to cause alarm.

Those young thugs were not called to the mines and all they cared to do was simply laze about, and only worked at the odd jobs around the hollow if they cared to bother. That day they were bored in their usual ocupation namely sitting on the stoop of the general store, guzzling beer and ogling the odd female. They came and drove the young-uns away and claimed that part of the creek for their possession and enjoyment. They stripped to their all-together and dove in the creek to cool off their boredom.

The young uns', clutching their clothes on damp skins, angrily watched from a distance as the leader of the gang grabbed the overhanging rope and played around with it. He was a hefty bully called 'Porky', known for his gross appetite. Nobody challenged his brutish form, as he was wanted to strike out when irritated; and his blows were near crippling. He took the chord in his pudgey hands and called out to his buddies, "Look me Tarzan," as he acted out an imitation of the Ape Man and they laughed at his antics. Then he held tight to the rope, ran a couple of steps, and swung over the water.

The shadow spirits of the devil watched as the young man swung over the water and they cast their evil spell. As the swinging form gathered momentum the thick branch broke with a loud crack and the youth dropped heavily in the creek heavily entangled by the leafy twigged branch and the frayed swinging rope. The fall was swift and the heavy limb weighted down ‘Porky’s’ coarse body; as he fell his head dashed violently on protruding bedrock causing the spilling of blood and brain.

His buddies rushed to the water in an attempt to rescue him but the heaviness of the branch and the entanglement of the rope proved to be a difficult obstacle to their efforts. They dove repeatedly in the creek in their attempt to pull him free but with no results; their weakness, through the laziness of their lives, added to the toll of their inability in their desperate efforts. They screamed out in their helpless frenzy but were unable to do anything for their so-called leader 'Porky'. After the tumult of the rescue efforts simmered down, the youths left the creek and sat along the pebbled shore and sobbed in tiredness and futility.

There was little to be done only to wait out the end of the tradegy. They joined together in the vigil of watching, both the young-uns, the gang of roughnecks and a few onlookers. The mother and father of the drowned youth, alerted by the news, were standing along the banks; both were in tearful embrace as they looked upon the sight of the accident.

A hushed silence prevailed. Not a word was uttered as the onlookers watched a farmer, called to the scene, lead one of his mules to the slippery bank of the creek. They looked on in anticipation as the county sheriff and one of his deputies, clad in their shorts, waded into the creek near the spot where the rough end of the broken branch protruded. Upon the command of the sheriff the farmer knotted a thick rope around the harness of the mule, and threw the uncoiling hemp to the waiting officers who secured it to the tree limb.

A signal was given that all was ready; the peace officers jumped aside. Then the farmer grasped the thick straps of the harness, and with a snap to the leather, coupled with harsh commands, prodded the mule to action. The animal strained on the tied rope and with great effort slowly plodded along. There was a hushed exclamation from the onlookers as the mule skidded on a slippery patch of mud but the ever-alert farmer calmed the beast. There was pause as the animal caught its breath, but after a few moments it continued in its efforts.

Slowly the branch was pulled along the banks of the creek. A hidden rock on the creek bottom snagged the limb jerking the rope to a momentary halt. The mule shied on the tightened chord and it took a hefty kick on its rump by the farmer to plod it along, "Tarn' an' damnation, git along." The blow to its body caused the mule to pull and shy on the harness straps but another kick forced it to settle down and continue in its efforts. The animal tugged hard on the rope until the broken branch slithered a few more feet along the muddy banks away; a call to stop ceased all movement, allowing the tired mule a rest.

Both the sheriff and his deputy returned to the muddy waters of the creek. It took reapeated dives into the shallow depths until they were able to distangle the swing rope from the body. Then they loosened the chord from the thick branch and secured it to the remains; a sign was given and the farmer and a couple of helpers pulled on the rope. As the body was being dragged to the banks, Porky's mother ran to embrace her lifeless son; she led out a scream of anguish at the sight of death, and in a senseless act tried to stem the trickling flow of blood from the battered head...

Jeremiah could not continue to watch the events at the tragic scene; he was sickened by all that he saw and heard. He ran quickly from the scene of the accident without looking back. In his simple mind it was not a sheer accident but the retribution of the 'Lordy' for the sinful acts of 'Porky. He pictured in the deep imagination of his mind the soul of the roughneck simmering on the sacrificial pit of the devil god, the Moloch. The boy heard the harsh blare of the horn and the rhythmic beat of the taut drum that signalled the acceptance of the transgressor's corrupt body; he pictured the grin of the devil as it took the sinning soul for his keeping.

He reasoned in his simplicity that Miz' Jezebel, his pious mother, was right in her words that all sinners would go to that fiery depth of hell; here, at the flowing waters of the creek was a witness to the deep belief.

This damning sight remained constantly with him thoughout the coming years in the deep recesses of his memory; it was a good example of the terrible powers of the vengeful Moloch, the lord of the fires of hell.

 

 

INCANTATIONS AGAINST DEMONS AND SPIRITS

The good folk of the settlement spelled out secret incantations. Incantions, born of ignorance and the deep fear of the unknown. They were spoken in an aura of mystery, which the believers, hoped through the power of the magic words, would protect one from an enemy, the expulsion of evil spirits and the evil eye. Some spells chanted were for good fortune, for winning true love and social success, and to win favours in the eyes of others.

 

They continued to warn those that listened and took heart to the threat of demons. Over and over they spoke in the language of their garbled tongues of the mystic powers of the demoniac shadow spirit, "Beware of the demoness Shabriri!! that roams throughout the night with a horde of fallen angels. Shabriri wrecks harm from those who drink from pools or streams in the dark of the night."

Their cackling lips told of the tale of an unfortunate group of three innocent children who at night drank of the still waters; "The angry demoness and her wicked attendants caught them and inflicted devasta-ting punishment. They had caused their hair to fall out, and turned their skins to black as night." The terror of the tale continued, bringing the cold fingers of fear running up the spines of the listeners.

The three ancient hags cackled out the question, "What should the good believers do if one happens to meet this evil spirit?" They chortled in the slur of their tongues that one should utter the 'Abracadabra' formula which they swore on the soul of the devil himself that it will lure the evil demoness in a snare, "Briri, Riri, Iri, Ri!" The ancient crones explained to the assembly that this secret spell wouldl trap the evil demoness, Shabriri; in order to be set free, the shadow spirit will promise not to harm the accursed henceforth.

"Briri, Riri, Iri, Ri..."

The believers listened to the words of the three old hags till they heard the sound of the winged creatures of the night in their call of the hunt. They turned, momentarily, to the cry, but as they returned to hear the words, the creatures in black were not in their sight.

The mystic faithful took it as sign and readied themselves for departure. As they left the thick walled, wattled hut near the woods, winged creatures of the night hovered over them, calling out their warning to the mysterious and fearful ways of Shabriri, the demoness of the water.

"BEWARE!!"

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

"YES!! YES!! I will not forget," screamed the cowering boy between the snivelling flow of tears. His tear-stained faced, covered by one of his elbows, spoke of a deep hidden fear. The terror filled eyes watched every movement of Miz' Jezebel, Jeremiah's bitter and unforgiving mother. Her fleshy body shook as she expressed vehemently her disapproval of her son's being. Her careworn face was a mask of contorted anger. The boy stared fearfully at her rabid features as she lashed angrily at him with her merciless tongue. Jeremiah Micaiah's very body shook and trembled as she continued to shout at him in the loud and fuming tones of her punishing voice.

"Jist like yer pa, always fergettin... an' yer shirt tails hangin' over yer britches... White trash ye r'... sloppy y' be an' mighty forgetful... Land sakes what ah'm t' do wit' such a critter!" retorted the furious woman, as she shook her head in anger that tossed her reddish hair askew. She continued, for a added minute or two, to admonish the pathetic creature with her angry tongue.

Suddenly, in a fit of pious reverence, the woman dropped on her knees, raised her clasped hands high in supplication and piously called out in prayer; her voice cried out plaintively as she earnestly beseeched the heavenly father to hear her words. The fearful woman was filled with the superstitious terror of retribution for her son Jeremiah in the fiery pit of sacrifice for his so-called sinful acts. Over and over she called out in prayer to the blessed 'Lordy'.

"Lordy, Lordy save me lil' an' only son Jeremiah ... Lordy d'ye hear me words. Ah'm a' cryin' t' ye t' save him frum them damned fires of th' Moloch . . . Th' lil' feller meaning no harm, jist a bit fergettin'. Ah hear th' call of th' Moloch threatinin' him wit' th' hell fire fer his sinnin'. Lordy have pity on his poor soul. D'yah hear Lordy save him, ah beg ov ye!" But her plaintive cry was only to spare her son from being her sacrificial lamb for the past trans-gression which she endured in its remembrance; a heavy burden of damning sin she carried in her trying life.

Jeremiah Micaiah gazed transfixed in extreme fear as he watched the changing form of his mother as she writhed and twisted on her knees in an appearance of agony. From the depths of her throat a loud shrill voice cried out, "in thick rising smoke burning in sin; he will walk through the flaming altar of the Moloch." The frightened boy cowered in terror at the mention of the evil 'Moloch', terrified of the punishment of the terrible flames of sacrifice for his sinful acts."

Terror haunted the pathetic creature as he watched as his mother grovelled along the bare floor on the crook of her elbows and knobby knees, screaming and writhing in a semblance of anguish and torment. "Lordy, Lordy," she screamed from her spittle smeared mouth. Then, sudddenly, silence, as she fainted in an hypnotic trance; her body laid still on the harwood floor with her extended clasped hands still clenched in the form of supplication. Fear gripped him, paralyzing any effort to check on his mother's well being. Jeremiah knew, from past experience, that waking her from a deep religious trance would lead to addditional harranguing from the vile of her tongue, coupled with the curse of the Moloch.

The terrified young'un slowly backed out of the room fearful of the terrible vengeance of the Moloch that will come and take him to the fiery altar as a punishment for his so-called act of sinning. Slowly he went. Twice Jeremiah turned his thin-framed body around ever so carefully to have a quick glance at the prostrate form of his mother. With the pulsating fear of the coming of the Moloch beating in the depth of his thoughts, he quickened his pace and ran from the room.

His feet carried him swiftly through the poorly furnished hall; the creaking of his steps on the old floor boards under the worn carpeting increased his encroaching fears. Rushing to the stairs leading to the upper floor above, he cast a furtive glance behind. Seeing an imaginative being to his sight in the dimly lit recess of the hall he rushed up the stairs two at a time without pausing to catch his breath; and he rushed quickly into his room, slamming the door tight as a means of false secruity.

Jeremiah Micaiah's quavering body pressed hard upon the door. The lanky and pitiful creature, with gangly legs and wiry arms protruding through patchworn clothing, pushed harder and harder on the thin wooden portal, but it was no barrier to his fears racing through his tormented mind. His wide grayish eyes were wide open ever expectant to a coming danger; and the shaggy brown hair shook on his prickled scalp. Jeremiah's very body shuddered at every nerve, fearful of every imaginative thing possessed in his mind.

His shaded room was gloomy with closing of the light of the late afternoon hours which slowly turned the shabbily furnished room to one of shadowy fearful terror that filled his tormented mind with the sight of dreaded demons and devils of every shape and colour. The dark shadows on the pine boards were seen through terrified eyes as evil spirits together with demons that were trying to break through the walls and enter. The dim light, which entered the confines of the glominess casted dancing shapes in its weak beams, and saturated his terror, filled mind to added forms of evil and danger.

Pulsative fear overcame Jeremiah. He escaped to his cot and covered his head with his pillow to escape the terrors that enveloped him. Every noise increased his fears - the noise of the wind whistling through the cracks around the window frame, the creaking floorboards of the old house, a hound dog baying in the distance. Tighter and tighter the young'un held the pillow against his ears trying with sheer desperation to shut out all sounds, trembling in the very effort.

Suddenly the terrified boy heard the drill of music, a cacaphony of blowing horns, the clash of timbrels, the trilling of reed flutes and the booming of taut skin drums. Fear prickled the very core of his body.....

The sound of the primitive orchestra grew louder and louder enveloping Jeremiah Micaiah in its raucous blaring. With fearful curiosity he slowly, but ever so slowly, emerged from the covering of his pillow. To his surprise the left side of his room was opened to a brilliant barbaric ceremonial pageant that coursed its way through wide and meandering passages of a rough cavern carved in the rock.

A high priest, dressed in elaborate ceremonial vestments, was leading a procession of feverish worshippers. He was attended by twelve alcolytes, twelve in number, both male and female, dressed in their ceremonial dress and carrying feather topped golden staves. Their cadence of march was marked by the pounding rhythm of the following primitive orchestra. As they made their way along the passages of the wide stone rough passages the holy order passionately declaimed in feverent voices, "Abraxas Yah Yah Yahu, Moloch, Moloch - the Moloch is the sun by day and the god of eternal heat of all kinds."

Shuffling erratically to rhythm of the blaring of the ecstatic music, the procession coursed its way to the celebration of their ceremonial ritual of the burnt offering. The pagan worshippers had come to the mystic cave for the solemn rites of their deep belief; rites that insured that their transgressions would be absolved through the purity and richness of their offering of the sacrificial lambs to the fire god, the Moloch.

As they meandered through the passages of the cavern the faithful called out to the god of eternal fire to hear their prayers. They cried out to the Moloch to accept their rich concecrated gifts of three of their first-born of their loins as an antonement for their moral offences committed in the past. The passionate idolaters feverishly cried out repeatedly to the fire god for pardon for their iniquities. Some were naked, their clothes torn from their bodies in the frenzy of the barbaric worship. They, together with those who were still in the tatters of their garments, pummeled their bodies with repeated blows. They called out again and again their fervent belief in trance-like expressions.

Flaming tarry torches lined the rough walls of the corridors. The burning brands flared menacingly and dripped their blazing viscous oily mixture into a tiny stream of fire onto the rough ground. The flickering torches casted macabre shadows on the coarse walls as they leaped and pranced eerily to the movement of the procession. The dancing shadows appeared, at first, as high as the tremulous figures, but as they approached each burning torch, they were absorbed by the shuffling body of the ecstatic crowd of idolaters.

Jeremiah Micaiah's eyes widened in curiosity as he scanned the rough and jagged stone walls of the cavern pitted with niches and opening. Within were small images that watched with cold unseeing eyes. The idols were dedicated to assist the fiery and vengeful god Moloch in his reign as the god of fire and storm in the nether world. Some of the idols were sculpted in terracotta relief or roughly moulded in clay, and others casted in bronze or iron. The goddess Tanit, the consort of the fire god, with palms turned outwards, offered protection and benediction. The war god Ashur was ready with bow and arrow.

Jeremiah watched as some of the faithful stopped in their hour of devotion to the fire god, and reverently placed votive offerings of different food and drink in front of the idol of their belief. Together with the sacred dedications, the believers placed holy incantations written on small scraps of parchment near their gods. These sacred incantations, inscribed by priests, were pleas to protect the penitent named on the scroll from evil spirits, demons and disease; and a few that called for the blessing of a good and rewarding life.

The curious boy stared in awe as the procession drove in agonizing frenzy through the winding underground passages that led to an immense cave; its irregular walls carved from a past flow of water. The rough surface continued the display of wavering shadows of the ecstatic worshippers as they shuffled expectantly to a large altar set on a rough stone platform.

On one side of the altar was a massive bronze calf-headed idol depicting the image of the vengeful god, the Moloch, ever-waiting with ready open arms. The fire god was seated on a low stone throne; at the base of the image was a deep fiery open cavity; the glow of the burning embers within emphasized the fierceness of his terrible image. Sulphurous fumes, fetid and damp, spumed from the hollow pit of its body; the fetted stench of rotted burned flesh of past offerings defiled the cave's jagged stone walls with their rank odour.

The hushed idolaters watched as the elaborately robed holy man and his submissive acolytes climbed the rough stone steps to the altar platform. Then, with a slight shuffling movement to the rhythm of the primitive orchestra, the servants of the fire-god formed a half-circle around the image of the Moloch and the wide fiery pit. The high priest, with arms akimbo, stood alongside the fierce bronze idol; he raised his arms as a sign for silence.

At the signal of the beat of the taut skin drums the shaman called upon the holy attendants to bless the faithful and to purify them with smoking raised vessels of sacred fire. The acolytes turned to vast crowd of worshippers and chanted in low voice the blessing of the god of fire; they waved bowls of sacred fire over the crowd, and the smoke offered its purification.

Following the ceremonial rites, the holy attendants lifted their sacred staves high and turned to the bronze calf-headed image of the Moloch, calling to the idol of fire to hear and to accept their pleas and petitions. In an ecstatic frenzy they chanted:

"Fire of the Altar! rushing and mighty! Heavy the blow of thy wings sweeping past! Wild wailing wind of misfortune and sorrow to those, that do not sacrifice to the fires of the Moloch."

Then the horns blew in a fevered pitch and the drums boomed their rattling cadence. At this crashing signal, three innocent children were led to the fiery altar. They were dressed in simple white tunics with a wreath of sacred olive leaves circling their heads. One was crying softly; the other two were in an hypnotic shock. As the children stood in front of the altar, the head priest with assistance of a attendant led the children, one by one, to the the image of the Moloch. He removed the thin covering and laid the naked body of each child on the raised arms of the unseeing calf-headed idol. Then all the holy ones loudly exclaimed, "Abraxas, Yah Yah Yahu, accept our offering of our sacrificial lambs for the retribution of our sins of the past; accept them in your name so that the coming year will see the fruitfulness of our labours, Yah Yah Moloch." With a firm hand the head priest rolled each child lamb into the yawning cavity. As they slid into the fiery ovens the other attendants danced to the music of flute and timbrels, drowning out the pitiful shrieks of the offered. Then the blowing of the horns and booming of the drums beat their primitive rhythm; it signalled the acceptance of the sacrificial offering to the god of eternal fire and storm.

The crowd roared in unison as they witnessed the acceptance of their sacrifice to the Moloch. They chanted in a hypnotic fever and pitched their prayers to the god. Their ecstatic celebrants called out feverently from their hoarse throats, "Abraxas Yah Yah Yahu Moloch, Moloch. To the great lord Moloch, the king of eternal fire, a great and noble sacrifice offered, breath for breath, blood for blood, life for life. Yah Yah Yahu Moloch...."

Trance-like Jeremiah watched in horror at the sight of the cere-monial rights to the terrible pagan fire god, the Moloch. His hearing was deafened by the cacophonic sounds of the primitive musical instruments that hovered over the roaring of the frenetic horde of worshippers. As he stared in awe and terror at the final act of the ceremony, a commanding voice called and beckoned in a subdued tone, "Jeremiah, Jeremiah Micaiah." Over and over the whispering sounds of the calling of his name was heard.

Jeremiah rose trembling from the cot and he followed the command of the unseen voice. Slowly he entered into the hellish temple and hypnotically made his way along the uneven path to the fiery altar. He footfalls quavered to the very core of his being as he carefully climbed the stone steps to the presence of the terrifying calf-headed image of the Moloch, the fire god of the nether world.

Suddenly he returned to a semblance of conciousness when he stood on the rough-hewn platform. In that moment the high priest reached out and grabbed him, and tried to drag him with force to the fiery pit. The boy turned and saw in an instant the face of his mother's grimmacing features in the agony of her priestly duties; her flowing red hair glowed in a fierce rubrical halo of fire.

With a quick motion the claw-like fingers of Miz' Jezebel, the fierce avenger against the ways of sin and damnation, grasped his trembling body as she fiercely attempted to bring him to the yawning pit of the sacrificial fire. He fought her with all his strength but her hold was tight as she dragged him slowly, slowly to the waiting bronze arms of the devil god.

He screamed and fought deperately as he tried to escape from the clutching, clawing fingers of the priest. Jeremiah Micaiah cried out in the agony of deep-rooted fear. He screamed and screamed as he woke trembling and frightened in his darkened room.

 

 

THE MAGIC OF THE WORDS

When the clouds darkened and foul misery rode the winds, the observant folk of the settlement in the hollow swore by the sacred words of the 'Good Book'. They deeply believed that one who has faith in the 'Lordy' "has a part in the World-to-Come." They spoke their belief in the language of tongues as they uttered the 'magic of words' which is inscribed in the holy writings of the ancient prophets and disciples.

As a child lay on a sick bed, the ones who kept the faith chanted, "May the pestilence of the body and all unclean spirits of the soul depart, go away, fly off, be closed up, be melted for ever and ever." And the believers knew that the presence of the good 'Lordy' would hear their pleas and heal.

They called out the 'magic of words' when the mind is filled with blackness of troubling times, "That the unclean spirit that is in the soul may they depart, go away, fly off, be closed up and never disturb the rest and quiet of the soul. Amen, Selah!" And the believers in the righteous ways of the 'Lordy' knew that the light would shine and clear the troubled mind.

The ardent believers of the righteous way knew of the mighty power of the 'magic of words' when they are threatened with evil spirits, " May the evil spirits, the evil eye, the evil tormentors, active and alive, be lossened, be annulled, may they depart and never return with their curse." And those who were true to His spirit knew that the evil that threatened to possess their lives will cease and dissappear forever.

They believed and called out the faith of the 'magic of words' as contained in the wonderous text of the Ninety-first Psalm written by those who have deep faith in the 'Lordy':

"Thou shalt not be afraid of the terror by night... Nor of the pestilence that walks in the darkness, Nor of the destruction that wastes at noonday.

 

And the righteous ones knew that their deep faith would protect them from all the terrible afflictions.

They believed and called out in the 'magic of words'...

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

The good believers of the settlement revered the holy Sabbath day; it illuminated the light of day that shown through the trials of their miserable existence. On the holy Sunday they cleared their hearts from evil thoughts and wicked feelings, "Not fitten fer th' good soul on thet Sabbath day... " The folk scrubbed their bodies till the purity of skin was visible; and they dressed themselves in their best store boughten clothing which they thought proper-like in the presence of the Lordy.

They looked foward to the blessed Sabbath and on that day they trod the road of righteousness to celebrate the ritual of their holiness. From the time of distant memory they had made their away with hope and fire in their souls on the Lord's day to the Sunday-go-to-Meeting services at their rough-hewn clapboard chapel centered in the hollow. Upright they walked the sacred road, clutching proudly the sacred symbol of their faith - the 'Good Book' of the 'Lordy's' just words.

They had come to seek salvation and grace for their souls; and the sinners, hanging their heads in their shame, had come to ask for forgiveness to the good 'Lordy'. All trod the road to their little church on the Sabbath morning to seek answers that will direct them to the right path that will offer a better life on this earth. And all hoped at the end of the sacred services that the good 'Lordy' had heard their words and will offer redemption and salvation.

The good preacher, the able messenger of the blessed 'Lordy', offered his flock the virtuous words of the 'Good Book'. He rendered his interpretation of the message within which he hoped would direct the humble folk towards the blessed path for a good and just life. The parishoners were told that those words were the key to eternal salvation. Every Sunday the well-meaning cleric thundered out the phrases over and over again at the chapel service until the meaning of the words were clear in the minds of his humble parishoners.

The man of cloth was well reknowned in the community; he officiated at the christening of the new-born, chuckling with the shaking of his corpulent belly at the mewling child. He blessed the newly wedded couples, his veined hands held over their heads as he offered benediction - and a stern word was severly given to both, coupled with a lecture on the grave sin of carnality if the girl was full in the belly. He stood tall on his stubby legs as he committed a soul to the bosom of the 'Lordy'; his deep-set eyes shadowed in their deep sockets were moist from the solemn rites. And, secretly, he had the taste for dandelion wine with a drop of spirits, which he deemed beneficial for his soul.

The good preacher had a name but woe to a living soul if they would pronounce it within his hearing. Theophilius Zebulun Parker was his Christian name that was blessed him by his saintly parents. The name as difficult as it was to pronounce was as difficult to bear as it provided a cause for jibes and jest in the cleric's earlier years. Around the settlements in the hollow he was simply known throughout the years of his office as 'thet good preacher' and to those more intimate he was addressed as 'Rev'rend Parker'.

Rev'rend Parker was renowned throughout the parish in the hollow as an earnest fighter of the devil sin and all its wickedness and the continuing evil of its vile and dastardly acts. The saintly man saw sin everywhere. Sin, in his eyes were seen in the idling of time, in the passing of the jar of illicit spirits, the act of carnality by bedding with a painted woman; jealousy of another man's or woman's possessions; and forgetful in the blessed giving of charity. But, the worst sin of all in his eyes was in the wicked gossip of wagging tongues whose words tainted and hurt the innocent.

There were other foul sins committed; and these sins were seen through his vigilant eyes. The fighter of sin and its damnantion searched throughout the hollow to find the signs of transgression, and, when found, offered the prepetrator of the sinful act the salve of redemption followed by the needed blessing for forgiveness to the Lordy.

The cleric fought a hard and rough battle against the devil sin that was caused by the temptation of the devil's delights; and he had the pleasure in his hard won victories. But, at times he lost the battle with the devil sin, which saw the fall of grace of a good soul of his congregation, followed by its damning ruin of life and property.

The good preacher had a strong weapon in his arsenal and that was the eternal fear of the pagan god, the calf-headed fire god, the Moloch. No, he did not believe in paying obeisance to an alien god, which the prophets of the 'Good Book' warned against. He simply used the threat of the sacrificial fires in the damnation of hell as a symbol or retribution for sinning. And his good parishoners accepted and believed his just phrases of the fear of the hellish fire god of the world below; and they understood that the punishing requital for sinning was the sacrifice of the evildoer in the idol's fiery pit of the damned.

The preacher's kin folks, both his pappy and grandaddy, both preachers in their own right, committed this reasoning to his thought; and their imaginative words of the fiery vengence of the Moloch for sinful acts were branded in his mind. From them he inherited the vision of eternal damnation that pictured clearly a supposed hell; a vista of forked devils, hideous demons, hidden shadow spirits forever tormenting the sinners. His kin folk told him that in the bodes of the nether world, misers were forced to roll heavy stones; murderers driven into bloody slime; those that wagged their tongues given molten lead to quench their thirst. The endless list of sins and the punishing rewards for the sinners were gruesome in detail; and the endless torment of Satan and his emmissaries was equal in its misery.

The cleric remembered the phrases of his kinfolk, which he considered correct in their meaning. Ever since, when he first donned the robes of his office and when the opportunity arose, the good man included the fiery words of his inheritance in his thunderous sermons.

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

Jeremiah, his mother, Miz' Jezebel to the neighbors, and Lemmuel, his father, before his sudden departure from the good earth, were considered loyal and pious parishoners of the chapel. Every Sunday, ma in her best Sunday dress and a cloche bonnet, the young boy and his paw in their best and only go-to-meeting clothes, would make their way along the beaten path to the church. On their way they greeted neighbors on the same liturgical procession with a "Howdy do on this blessed day" or they would simply nod their heads in greetings. To a few they would stop for a bit of innocent chatter, namely a few words on the pleasant weather, if any, or on the well being of their respective families.

Jeremiah remembered how he, Miz' Jezebel and Lemuel together with the other congregants filed into the chapel with the clump of their high-laced boots; and, noisily, found their respective places on the roughly crafted benches. They all called out the blessing of the day to their friends and neighbors as they made their way to their seats; with lots of scraping and shuffling they set themselves down and awaited the beginning of the service. At the later years Jeremiah only shared the rites with his mother; the memory of his father's former presence at the services was revered.

Jeremiah thoughts of remembrance left him as the goodly preacher, cloaked in the black vestments of his office and carrying a large care'worn Bible, entered into the church from the small fronted ante room. The cleric traced his steps to the small lecturn on a narrow platform that faced his congregation; as he stepped heavily on the boards he turned his head and scanned his faithful flock. Seeing the filled benches, a slight smile of contentment emerged on his florid face. Then returning to a semblance of sobriety he placed the large tome noisily on the lecturn and faced his loyal parishoners; the smacking noise was a signal for the cessation of the clearing of hacking throats, the chatter of tongues and the shuffling of feet by the expectant congregation.

Silence reigned within the small chapel and seeing the waiting attention of his flock, the good cleric, with the clearing of his throat, started his address. "Before we start the blessed service I would like t' read out a few notices," the good prelate stated. He then read announcements of the time and place of two weddings, three chistenings and the time of the Bible study group for the good folk which he expected a good attendance.

He emphasized that all the good children of his flock should attend Sunday School, which followed the Sunday service; and that the lessons were under the tutelage of his good woman. He didn't mention that his wife taught the lessons in Biblical lore coupled with threat of hell-fire, and for the soul's passage into the depths of the underworld for sinning ways.

Then with a commanding voice he instructed his flock to rise and turn the pages of the hymnal book to a page of his choice. The good people rose, opened and searched through their hymnals; those that did not know of the written word were told of the praise song to to be sung. The good preacher set the pitch and the congregants, with loud and gruff voices, some off key, burst into a hymn of praise to the 'Lordy'; their eyes shone as they bellowed out the words.

Finishing their vocalizing they seated themselves noisily on their places. After a few moments of throat hacking and coughing the congregants looked towards the pulpit. A pause of silence followed which cleared the echoing sounds. Then the good cleric looked straight at his congregants and with a hearty thump on his worn Bible he began his sermon...

"Yea! King Manasseh made his son t' pass thro' th' fire. Yea, King Manasseh followed th' hellish abo... abo' minations of th' heathen," thundered the preacher as he banged his ham-like fist hard upon the lectern causing it to vibrate noisily on th' small platform. " Yea, King Manasseh did thet an' he tole th' chillun of Israel t' do th' same an' hit was real bad, mighty bad in th' eyes of th' Lordy," he called out hoarsely.

"Oh my, oh my, my, deary me," exlaimed a few mixed hushed voices of some of the women folk. The buzz of their quiet tones filled the chapel until the stern look of the good preacher signalled their end, and in the following silence he paused for a blessed moment.

The stocky black-clothed preacher stood erect as he looked onto the overflowing assembly in his small clapboard church, "Yea! he made his son pass thro' th' fire an' also th' chillun of th' Hebrews." He then searched through the leaves of the Good Book and intrepreted the correct paragraph, "King Manasseh was condemned by the Lord for unholy act for worshipping of the Canaanite devil god, the Moloch", "who the Lord cast out from before the children of Israel." "Yet those h'yar who commit ter'rible sins r' taking their wicked souls and those of their wee ones to th' Moloch; a bad thing in th' eyes of th' Lordy'. When th' sinners r' doin' these awful things they r' comin' an' worshippin' this devil god. Tis' th' truth." His fleshy face turned florid in the temper of his sermon; his breath came in spasms from the fury and wrath of his words..

"King Manasseh forced th' Lordy's chillun t' follow th' devlish blat' of horns and th' beat of them thar' drums in honour of thet' demon' fire god, the Moloch," thundered the agitated parson. The good cleric paused and after a search through a few pages of his well read Bible continued in his hell for leather sermon, "And the Children of Israel had to shout in Canaanite tongue allegiance to thet' calf headed idol. 'Yah. Yah Moloch, El El,' chanted the Hebrews and King Manasseh was pleased. But the good Lord watched over His children and punished the King for his wicked acts.... Yea, He did.."

"YEA! Yea... Praise the' Lordy... Halelujah t' th' mighty Lordy," exclaimed the garbled excited voices of the congregation.

The preacher's blazing eyes, deep-set in their sockets, were fierce as those of the prophets of the ancient past as he gazed sternly at his congregation. Then he grasped the winged collars of his black linen robe and shook his shaggy maned hair in admonishment, "Yea he blasphemed th' Lordy!!" He thundered louder, "Yea King Manasseh blasphemed th' Lordy. Did he not hear th' words of th' Lordy when he tole them no t' cause their sons an' daughters t'pass thru' th' fire. Yea, he blasphemed!!" He turned the thumb-marked pages of the holy tome and quoted the written words, "And he made his son pass through the fire." The cleric paused for a few moments to catch his wavering breath. "I'll go ahead with this h'yar readin," he reiterated, "he wrought much wickedness in the sight of the Lord, to prokoke Him to anger.... Yea, th' king, he done did it agin' th' Lordy!"

"Yea, yea, King Manasseh blasphemed th' Lordy," echoed jumbled responses from a few of the congregants...

"And mah friends we r' doin' the same and followin' th' ways of King Manasseh... We r' shoutin' praise t' thet hell-god in our sinnin' ways," the preacher thundered through his hoarse voice as he drove foward his interpretation.

Did not thet vile critter King Manasseh spill th' blood of th' innercent?" The good preacher continued to read from the text of the Bible adding his interpretations. "And this Manasseh shed so much innocent blood that he filled Jerusalem full to the brim, not to mention the sin which he let Judah..." emphasized the feverish parson. Then, after his fiery words, he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a red polkdot kerchief that miraculously appeared in gnarled and veined hands.

"Yea! Yea! thet wicked king done did thet'," responded the echoing reply of the expectant parishoners.

"An' did not th' just Lordy in His mighty ways punish King Manasseh fer his wicked acts, Yea He did!!"

YEA, YEA, th' Lordy did thet... HALLELULAH T' TH' LORDY!!",

And again the preacher searched the text of his care worn Bible and again quoted and intrepeted the phrases, "Yea, man, th' good Lordy did punish thet wicked King Manasseh - 'And the servants of Amnon con.. cons..pired against him, and slew the king in his own house..' Yea, th' people went agin' th' king fer his wicked acts an' put him down - 'and he was buried in the garden tomb of his family..'"

"YEA MAN!.... HALLELUJAH T' TH' GOOD LORDY!"

"Mah good people, mah friends an' neighbors, listen t' this h'yar story of thet wicked King Manasseh an' fer y' t' learn a bit from it. He called upon his parishoners to mend their ways and not to follow in the ways of King Manasseh and through his wicked acts. The good preacher repeatedly compared it with the sinning and wickedness that is corrupting the good folk in the settlements in the hollow. "Yea thars' a mighty lot of sinning in these h'yar parts - drinkin' th' devil spirits, waggin' th' loose tongue, sleepin' wit' fallen women, an' many many more," the good cleric emphasized as he thumped heavily on his tome.

Then he loudly called for the members of his flock to come foward and seek redemption and salvation in the name of the just and fair Lordy. The preacher told them this is the way to cast off their sins and find the righteous way. He pleaded again and again for the congregants to come foward and seek repentance and the blessing in the name of His Son.

A few of the congregants heard the earnest plea of the blessed preacher and came foward to him to seek salvation. As the redeemers stood in front of the lecturn the cleric laid his strong hand lighty on their heads; he blessed them in the name of His son. Some of recipients of the blessing swooned as they accepted the bread of faith; outstreched hands were ready as they fell in their religious trance.

The remaining parishoners jumped to shuffling feet and the clapping of hands to the rhythm of their ecstatic shouting as they rejoiced in the sight of the believers going forth in this blessed act of salvation. They responded with loud shouting in mixed voices in praise of the Lordy, "HALLELULAH, PRAISE BE... GLORY T' TH' MIGHTY LORDY.. "

Pandemonium reigned throughout the confines of the chapel as the congregation shouted hosannas through hoarse voices; some were swooning in the holiness of the hour; others were on their knees grovelling on the floor, calling out praises. Sinners, with their hands raised, called out passionately to the good Lordy to absolve them from their wickedness; and they cried out fervently for the plea of redemption.

"HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH! Lordy, Lordy.." they hooted and called out as they glorified in the holiness.

"Praise be, blessed tis' His name, hallelujah," they clapped and stomped to their excited words.

Jeremiah Micaiah, too, was caught in the excited fevor of the passionate congregation; he thought of the time when Lemmuel, his lately departed father, trod the righteous path. He was proud when his 'old man' accepted the offered redemption and salvation. As he looked to his side he only saw Miz' Jezebel, his pious mother alone in religious devotion, upholding the traditional spirit of the family's faith. She was spread on the floor as she groveled on bended knees; her spittle smeared mouth shouted praises in the name of the just Lordy.

The innocent boy joined in the calling out of praises and his piping voice was barely heard; the increasing fevered pitch of the holiness of the hour ran madly through the simpleness of his mind.

Jeremiah swooned in the imitation of the feverent parishoners as he accepted the passionated belief of the hour. Slowly his head whirled and his deep imagination ran wild as his spun in the dizziness of paranoia. Round and round Jeremiah spun into a maddening whirlpool of illusion that carried him into mystery and strangeness.

Through hallucinations that ran through his feverish mind he saw the vison of his presence in an ornate, but hellish temple. His mental image visualized the walls lined with bronze statues of evil gods, all in the horrors of cruel faces with protruding fangs; tattered dressed bodies with the backs covered in blacked wings, and all were on cloven feet. Along each pagan idol, flaming tarred torches spewed their flickering light and dripped streams of fire.

In the middle of this wicked shrine of evil was a large rough stoned altar fronted by a deep flaming pit; above the burning char, fiery sparks crackled and shot upwards the signs of the terrible heat. From a slight distance from this altar and its flaming cavity ecstatic worshippers circled the cursed sacrificial table; they waited expectantly for the start of the cultic ceremony that will see the offering of their sacrificial lambs to the god of eternal fire.

Excited noises rang through the pagan temple, echoing their sound from end to end; a sound of frenzy words of expectancy from the many that gathered. Then suddenly Jeremiah heard the rhythmic pounding beat of a primitive drum. "BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!" drummed the cadence; the ecstatic worshippers turned and faced the source of the sound, shouting out their primitive belief in the language of their tongues.

Jeremiah imaginative fantasy flared deeper and deeper through his wavering line of reason. He looked towards the front of the ornate sanctuary and saw a darkened shrouded figure enter from a recess in the stone walls. As the phantom, black as the mournful night, emerge from the niche, it flew on the stillness of the air till it stood in front of the sacrificial pit. There it moved to a high jewelled throne where it seated itself; and waited for the offering to the fire.

Jeremiah hallucinatory vision increased in its imagination and he saw the creature spread till it nearly touched the ceiling of the hellish placee. Suphurous smoke, dank and retching from their stinking smell, fumed from blackness of the shroud. From within the dark cloths the calf-headed bronze figure of the god of fire, the Moloch slowly emerged. The grim features, angry and vindictive, were haloed in the rubric glow of flames. From the back of black cloak of the pagan god evil demons and shadow spirits flew about on tattered wings that dusted the very air with the evilness of their rank foulness.

The terrified boy looked at the fierce features of the devil god as it glared fiercely at him. From the sides of the dark cloak wicked claw like hands appeared and reached out towards him. Jeremiah turned away from the fiery image but the cruel talons kept coming closer and closer trying to bring him to the pit of sacrifice. From the smoking lips of the Moloch, tainted and fearful threats were directed upon his being:

"Malisons, Malisons, the curse be with you, I look with my eyes upon you, the eyes of death, At their word, the word which tortures the spirit.."

Before the pagan god of fire was able to continue his frightening threat, Jeremiah turned his heels and ran to escape the terror of the damning words. His body twisted and turned as he tried to avoid the clutching gnarled fingers of the angry devil god that attempted to snare him. Trembling fear that coursed throughout his thin body directed his footfalls, encouraging the strength of swift flight.

As he ran, the people that had come to that hellish temple reached out and tried to stop with their grasping hands; they tried to trip him with their feet. They beat and bruised his body with the anger of their hard blows. Jeremiah looked into their angry eyes for a sign of compassion, but all he saw were fierce globes that belched with hate. They shouted their anger and hate at him, "Yah, Yah, Yahu, Pyretos Megas. .. the curse of the great fever, Eshata Raba curse of the fevers and shivers upon you... Yah Yah, Yahu Moloch curse him and damn him, damn him to eternal hell!"

With a desperate effort Jeremiah managed to escape the clutching hands of the frenzy worshippers to the pagan god of fire. He reached the door of the shrine and with all his strength he managed to open it. Then with hurried footsteps he crossed the wide portals, and with all the power of his thin body he reclosed the door to stop the advancing crowd. He pressed hard against the vibrating thick doors as he heard the continuing shouting of the angry mob with their vile curses.

Despite his efforts he was unable to contain the frenzy worshippers and Jeremiah was forced to retreat from the site of the hellish place. He directed his tired feet through the scrub of stunted pine and scrub oak; their knotted hand-like branches tried to ensnare him in their grasp. He ripped the tree limbs, tearing them assunder, causing them to scream in agony. As he ran though the wood he tripped on a protruding boulder, receiving a minor blow to his head from the hardness of the packed earth.

As he lay there, stunned from the blow, he faced the edifice and he heard the singing of words:

"Let good men rejoice in the Lord. Light dawns for the just; and gladness, for the upright to hear. Be glad in the Lord, you of the just, and give thanks to His holy name..."

He looked towards the Sunday-go-to-Meeting clapboard chapel and he heard the jumbled voices of the congregants at the ending of the Sunday service giving their blessings and thanks for the Sabbath.

 

 

THE COMING OF THE DEVIL

The presence of a revival tent, pitched in the center of the hollow, was a sign to the faithful to come, to hear and accept the spiritual healing. The believers of the just words and phrases of the 'Good Book' heard the call and traipsed the dusty paths to the canvas of holiness. The good folk made the pilgrimage to hear the fiery words of the evangelists or revivalists of the day; they came to hear their pious words that will direct them hopefully in the paths of righteousness.

The good preachers, that served the faith, told them of the wonderous work of the mighty Lordy. The believers exaltated in the evidence of the words and signs of the prophets and disciples as written in the pages of the Scripture, "Declare his glory amoung the nations, his marvelous deeds amoung all people. Great is the Lord and worthy of all praise." The ardent believers, in the faith of the Word, heard the phrases and cherished their meanings.

Then the itinerant preachers told the believers of the devil or Satan, the emmissary of all evil, who remains the greatest enemy of man - suggesting and tempting the fallen to evil deeds. "The devil deceives man and leads them into sin which included worship to him and to other monsters of hell." Satan, they thundered, is a cursed creature, slanderer, spirit of evil, the foe of God and man. "He, alone, through his temptation to sin, will lead the fallen to the fiery sacrificial pit of the Moloch.."

They continued in their hellish damnation of Satan. The ardent religionists called loudly to the believing worshippers to beware of his temptation to sin; the dark prince of the underworld, the father of lies, was there in the very beginning of time. "He tempted the first man, and Adam's sin brought its penalty to all mankind."

The fervent preachers quoted from the Good Book which told of the vile description of the cursed devil which according to its correct words, "that Satan is chief of the fallen angels or evil and wicked spirits." The phrases continued in its meaning and they related that God created countless creatures, some being spiritual in nature; they were possessed of great powers of intellect, will and activity. The faithful were told that upon these beings, the angels, the good Lordy placed a test by means of which they could earn entrance to heaven. Quietly the good folk listened as they heard that many of the angels obeyed and fulfilled this test and that the Lordy was happy in that sight.

The flowing air in the tents of faith heated with fiery words tempered by the preachers. With fire and brimstone in their tone of speech, they told the believers that Satan, the highest and brightest of all angels, refused to serve God.... and rebelled against Him. Having sinned in his words against the Lordy he was cast deep down to the depths of Hell. The itinerant preachers then paused in their cursing of the devil; and with a triumphal shout they called out, "He is punished eternally by the fires of Hell!!"

The renowned men of the cloth then stopped in their triumphant note and stared with deep set eyes at the spell-bound believers of the Word and called out to them to be beware of the devil's powers. Satan is filled with hatred for God, the good angels and all mankind. "Beware!" they warned.

"The hell-for-leather preachers thumped with open palms on their lecturns as the recounted the sins of man. Thump, thump went their hands as recited the seven deadly sins as interpreted in the Good Book - thump, thump; anger, covetousness, envy, glutton, lust, pride and sloth. Thump, thump went the palms as they counted the sins plaguing the good folk of the hollow. Thump, thump, the sound echoed each sin as the fervent clerics trumpeted each wicked sin in hoarse tones - the vile taste of drink, enjoying the bed of fallen women and the in the gossip of tongues. Other wicked sins were counted and its damnation cursed.

The faithful were warned of the punishment of their sins as the repeated warnings told of the sacrifice of the sinners and possibly their young ones to the fiery pit of that evil fire-god, the Moloch. The words told of the punishment in the abode of eternal purgatory for the souls of the sinners - gossipers forced to drink hot lead, drunkards that rolled in the slime of their vomit. Hundreds of words spelled out the other miseries that had befallen to the sinners.

The fiery words of the sainted preachers' pleading messages of the need for repentenance and salvation burned deeply into the souls of the faithful. The deep believers heard the urging call of the revivalists and evangelists; they jumped to their feet, shuffled their legs and clapped their hands as they shouted praise words in the garble of their tongues. The sinners amoungst them raised their arms to the Lordy asking for redemption for their weakness in accepting the sin of temptation. "Lordy, Lordy,' they cried out and a few dropped on their knees and groveled for forgiveness.

Many heard the call to be saved in His son's name and they walked the path and received the blessing; and a few after receiving the touch of the hand, swooned in the ecstasty of its sainted holiness..

...And Satan looked within the tent and felt the cursed words....

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

Sunday school was a must for the children of the settlement in the hollow as the lessons they learned there taught them the righteous ways of the Lordy; such was the sincere thought of the good preacher. And, who was an outstanding teacher of the words, according to the wisdom of the good cleric - his ever-blessed woman.

The chapel parishoners only knew the faithful wife of the preacher as being a simple woman "not too tall r' short, r' not t' thin r' fat." She was simply known as 'Thet Godly Woman', a creature who lived simply in the shadow of her sainted husband. She was always seen covered in the dark of her correct clothing with her bonnet covering her simple features. The good Lordy did not bless her with the love of children that would comfort her in the golden years; she lived only in the doing the pious work of her beliefs.

Every Sunday from time remembered, 'Thet Godly Woman's' school of teaching was ready in its hallowed task; there she taught the meaning of just phrases of the Good Book and interpreted their virtuous contents. Her center of teaching was in the small anteroom that fronted the small church. Within were benches that lined the walls and half-centered by a wobbly deal table and a frayed caned-backed chair. A care' worn Bible opened to the correct chapter graced the pine board surface of learning; and alongside, ready to assist in her task, were two slim volumes of Biblical knowledge.

'Thet Godly Woman's pupils' numbered fourteen eager and not so eager children; they ranged from the older ones who were waiting for their turn at the colliery to the little ones who just started their lessons at the one-roomed schoolhouse in the settlement. Jeremiah Micaiah was counted as one her attentive pupils, always ready to ask questions much to the agony of the older pupils who considered the time in the asking as additional to their study hour. They threatened him to stop his infernal questions and tried everything to accomplish it to the constant reprimand of the good woman... and Jeremiah continued in his questioning under her protection. The rewarding answers to sin, salvation and retribution that he attained drilled deeper into his simple mind.

Every Sunday the faithful servant of Lordy would leave her place in the church upon the sound of the final 'Amen' that signaled the end of the Sabbath service. She would rush to her center of learning to open the portal to knowledge of the Good Book and await her charges.

The goodly woman beamed benevolently as her pupils filed into the little room; to each she offered the blessing of the day and received the same offering in return. The older pupils entered with a slight groan at their thought of hour's torture of study at the sight of a clear and sunny day, and the wee ones entered with childish eagerness for the words to be learned. The cleric entered the room for a few moments for a check and a counting of heads; and then he left hurriedly returning with a reluctant and not so eager pupil dragged by his ear.

'Thet Godly Woman' waited for silence and the attention of her pupils; after a few words of the usual reprimand to those engaged in low conversation, she had the class ready for her teaching. With a scrape on the cane-backed chair, the removing of her bonnet and the placing of her granny spectacles on her worn lined face, she looked towards her charges, and began the spread of her knowledge.

"Mah dear lil' chillun," she said; "Ahem, ahem," as she imagined a slight obstruction in her throat. "Dearie me, got somethin' in me throat." After a few more 'ahems' in the clearing attempt she continued, "We'll larn about th' sins of thet wicked King Manssseh as tole by th' good preacher in t'days Sabbath meetin'. We'll larn of thet wicked fire god th' Moloch, an' why he wanted lil' chillun to be burnt fer th' sins of their mammies and pappies." 'Thet Godly Woman' told her pupils of the need to understand the meaning of the sins of King Manasseh, and his sacrifice of his children and of the Children of Israel to the pagan idol of fire, the Moloch. Similar to the preaching of her husband she connected her interpretations of the story of the king with the sinning of the wicked in the settlement in the hollow. Her words described the many sins that plagued the good folk of the parish; and in a loud and forceful tone she reminded her charges of the righteous ways of the Lordy and for them to follow this just path in His name.

"Yah, Yah Moloch," chanted 'Thet Godly Woman' as she lifted one of the books of Biblical knowledge and waved it about as a symbol of the processional ceremony to the fire god. A few of the older children snickered at her performance but as she continued with her words describing the ceremony of sacrifice, they hushed in fear for the sound of the beat of the drums. Her terrifying words described the horrible sacrifice of children in the fiery pit, which brought silent weeping amoungst the smaller pupils. Again she repeated the warning of sinning and to follow in the just and righteous path of the Lordy.

'Thet Godly Woman' spoke in a strange tongue as she related the chants to the devil image, "Abrasax, fever and shivers - Pyretos Megas, Pyretos Leptos, fire burns through the evil eye, from spirits, from shadow-spirits, and from all evil tormentors." Her voice ranged from hushed tones to a loud finality as she dramatically continued in speaking the alien words; her pupils watched with wide eyes as they absorbed the barbaric words of the ancient past.

She raised herself from the cane-backed and walked about the small room and continued to emulate the fierceness of the strange words that were spoken by the feverent worshippers to pagan gods, pausing for a moment or two to interpret their meaning according to her limited knowledge. 'The Godly Woman's' body moved in the fierceness of her dissertation with the continual waving of her arms. "Eshata Raba, in the name of I-am-who-I-am Amen Amen, Selah," she sung out strange words remembered from the lessons of the past. Her pupils were riveted in their attention; not a word or sound was uttered throughout the performance of their teacher.

The hour of study of the sacred words neared its end; the good woman stopped in her discourse and seated herself once again on her cane-backed chair. As she paused to catch her breath, the preacher entered. He removed a dollar watch from his vest pocket, scanned the face for the correct time, and then he look towards the pupils of 'Thet Godly Woman'. "Well mah chillun I see th' time is nearly up. I hope you had larned your lessons well. Now git'", he exclaimed, "An' the blessing of th' day.."

The children needed no prompting as they gathered up their belongings and charged out of the little room, not forgetting to offer the blessing of the day to the preacher and his good woman.

 

 

WARNINGS OF THE PAST

The stoned walled house under the shade of the forest stands empty and foresaken; its wattled roof stoved in. Three wide-eyed birds of the night have built their nest in the remains of the brittle thatch. At night they flew from their perch hooting their fierce call of the hunt. Their broad wings spread in the mysterious shadow of the glowing of the moon as they swooped down in search of their prey.

Those who believe in demons and spirits claimed that they are the souls of the three gnarled crones who, at one time, have made their home within the stone walls. They have returned in the guise of these night birds to warn the believers of the ever-present dangers of the devilish creatures that waft through the still of the air. The called out to all to be beware of evil demons, pure spirits and of the rest of the vile creatures that dwell in the nether world. They told that these evil creatures come in the deep of the darkened night to haunt the sons and daughters of man.

They related in the garble of their tongues to those who listened, "a good soul could hear the shriek of the haunted voices of the three ancient hags called out by the birds of the night. Their shrill voices screamed out warnings to take heed of the hidden mysteries of the spirit world."

The night birds sounded out the warning of Lilith, a female demoness with tattered wings, long tangled hair with a call like the shriek of a screech owl. Their defining cries told that she was Adam's first wife but later they parted and Lilith pledged herself in harming women in childbirth as well as their newborn babies. The haunted voices of the hags called out the abracadabra incantation to protect those that might be accursed - "Lilitu, Lilit, Lilu, Lil - I forbid you to harm anyone henceforth - Lilitu, Lilit, Lilu, Lil."

They sounded out in the shriek of their warning call for those that walk alone at night in the darkeness of the forest; it placed oneself in great danger of the demoness Agrath, daughter of Asmodeus the king of the demons. The devilish demoness roams throughout the night with myriads of devasting angels; a fierce gaze from her eyes inflicted madness and fits.

Amoung the demons and shadow they named were those active in morning and those active in the afternoon. These creatures of hell were exceedingly dangerous during the summer months as they caused convulsions and fever during the heat of the day.

The shrill of the words spelled out the dangers of the spirits of the night and their counting of their numbers endless. They counted out their numbers, which were ten thousand to the right and ten thousand to the left and if one could see them they would be a fright to one's soul.

As you listened to the shriek of the birds you heard the gnarled words of the souls of the ancient ones. They called out repeatedly to be cautious of other shadow spirits of the trees, the demons of the water and of the pure spirit that wafts in the wind.

BEWARE! and the good folk were cautious as they listened to the warnings in the shriek of the night birds who spread their wings and flew under the waning moon.

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

The age of fourteen, amoungst the youth in the settlement, was the time to start their tedisome call of their future, namely signing for work at the colliery; it was labelled an apprenticeship in the eyes of the justices. The period to don cut hand-me-downs, pack the lunch pail, wake up at the early hours, meet the rest of the miners at the appointed hour and place, and trudge the odd mile to the pits.

There was no official registration of the boys for their work. It was only an unwritten agreement between the mine management and the good folk of the community. The procedure was simple. When the age of fourteen was reached and the boy was in fair physical strength, he simply showed up at the mine office; and after a cursory look over by the pit bosses, he was assigned a spot in the workings of the mine. The young adult put his mark on the rolls and was told to report the next morning.

Jeremiah Micaiah was no outsider to this ritual of the youth of the community. "Need th' money fer vittles," reasoned Miz' Jezebel, his thrifty mother, as she explained her excuse for sending her son to the pits. Her preparations were similar to the habits of her neighbors and kinfolk as they prepared their sons in that ritual. She searched through the belongings of Lemmuel, her mate of the past, for the odds and bits of mouldy clothing to be fitted for her son.

"Hol' still," ordered Miz' Jezebel as she measured a worn shirt on Jeremiah's grown body. "Don' need much cuttin'," exclaimed the good woman as she noticed the hefty body of her son, "Grown a bit these y'ars." Jeremiah in his fourteenth year had shot up to a fair height, and through the diet of daily fare mixed with the largesse of nature, his body had spread proportionally. He was sturdy with the signs of the development of hard muscles. This was due to constant walking or running the odd mile or two to school, the devoted walk to the chapel on Sundays, and the race to the village center on an errand for Miz' Jezebel, his demanding mother.

But his worrisome face was still thin with a slight puffiness on reddened cheeks; his searching grey eyes were dulled by the thoughts of the coming days. Yet there was a difference to his features, which showed in the acne pimpled skin, his brown hair badly shorn by the ineptness of his mother, and a missing tooth that gaped in the openness of his lips.

"Stan' still while ah pin up these h'yar britches ov yer pa!" as Miz' Jezebel hefted up a pair of worn trousers on her son's frame, "Lands sake ye be nearin' th' bigness of yer pa! She pinned a few points on the cloth much to the discomfort and embarassment to her son. "Thet be it," exclaimed Miz' Jezebel, "Change in t' yer other duds. Ah need to be a' fixin' yer pit clothes." Jeremiah hesitated for a moment in undressing as he felt the shame of being in his holey underclothes but a reprimand forced the issue.

Miz' Jezebel, his attentive mother, put aside the clothes and her workbasket and called the attention of her son. "Now listen here boy ye be goin' in t' th' mine quarters t-morrow an' ye 've t' be in yer best words. Ah won't be thar t' helps y' when thars be needin' me." Jeremiah's mother outlined the simple procedure of applying for employment at the colliery. "Jest hear what t' be done an' put yer mark on thet sheet."

Before Jeremiah was able to reply, Miz' Jezebel, the feverent believer, was on her knees with her hands raised in supplication; and her son had no choice but to do the same. As he knelt on the hard floor he heard his mother calling out, "Lordy, Lordy d'ye hear... mah son Jeremiah be goin' t' th' pits mighty soon... Look 'fter him, d'ye hear..." Then she went into her usual speechifying on the dangers of her son, Jeremiah falling into the temptation of sin and its equal danger of the hell fires of the god of the nether world, the Moloch. She continued in her prayers to direct her son in the straight and just way in the path of righteousness. "Lordy, Lordy, d'ye hear me a' callin'!" she cried out passionately at the end of her beeseching words.

"Amen," responded Jeremiah as he helped his mother rise from the hardwood floor.

 

 

Chapter Twenty

Jeremiah Micaiah was assigned to a miner who worked at the similar type of job as Lemmuel, his late father, namely drilling holes in the coal facing needed for the explosive charges. The previous day at the mining office he was told by the pit boss that he would work the following morning as an apprentice to a veteran driller by the name of Jake. He was told it would be easy to find him as he will on top as the storehouse picking up a few drilling bits, "Ye caint miss 'im.

Jest be on th' lookout fer a hefty built feller w' a red long beaker on a' face thet looks better on a horse."

There was a simple introduction when he found his mate. True to the directions given he was able to identify him - through his muscular body and horse faced features with a singularly large nose blotched with red veins. "Jeremiah s' th' name, "the youth exclaimed, "was tole thet ah be workin' with ye." And the miner simply nodded and answered,"Jake's th' handle."

"Let's me see," the driller called out as he examined his elongated tool box and check on the various implements of his job. He rustled about with the ringing of the tools and bits of hardware to see that all was in order and properly stored; and after finishing the task turned to his apprentice, "Jest y' be watchin' me an' y'll be th' same as yer old man. Heard about 'm. Good man, yer paw. Tis a shame thet he got kilt' in thet thar' blast. Now, help me wit' this h'yar junk." Jake closed and latched the toolbox; and with Jeremiah holding to a handle at the side of the container and the miner pulling on the other end, they trudged the upward path to the shaft elevator.

"Jess y' wait while ah go a pick up a couple of drill bits," he said as they put the heavy box on the hard ground much to the relief of Jeremiah. There was precious little time to catch his breath as the driller returned immediately loaded with three long shafted drilling bits.

There was the press on the correct buttons on the board that sig nalled the elevator. "Give me' a' hand in loadin' this h'yar stuff,"called the driller upon the approach of the lift. The cage door was raised, and, together, they placed the implements within; a slam of the downward plunge of the wire mesh cage door was heard as entered. Before they started downwards, they checked the lamps ontheir work helmets. Then with a press of a button, the elevator started with a jolt of its frame; it quickly made its long descentown the shaft. The shadow spirits of the darkness accompanied them with the whisper of their presence. Jeremiah felt them as they whiskedbout in the fantasy of his mind, and he automatically mumbled a secret incantation to ward them away.

At the bottom the cage door was reopened, and Jake and his apprentice quickly unloaded the work-box and drills. Through the beaming light of his lamp he was able to see part of the complex sloping passages of the dank underground. The slam of the closing the lift's heavy gate cause Jeremiah to jump nervously. But there was little time for fear or apprehension as the demanding voice of his work mate called out to him to stop his dreaming

"Jess ye carry them thar' bits and 'll heft th' box on me shoulder," Jake cried out.

They made they way through the dank dimly lit passages, meeting flashes of light of other safety lamps; Jeremiah saw these lamps as the glowing eyes of demons. The had to take caution as they walked along the fixed tracked roads as loaded shuttle-cars wheeled by taking their loads of coal to the conveyor belt feeders.

The noise of the mine machinery was deafening. Its loud noise was heard in the continuing click-clack movement of the mine cars, the rasping and squealing of the cog gears, and the swishing of hard rubber of the seemingly endless conveyor belt. Jeremiah found the noise like the fabled sounds of hell and he tried to force himself to blot out the damning sounds with shrill whistling, but to no avail. He searched out the sources of the noises, half-expecting the presence of the devil and other evil creatures as the deep fantasy rumbled in his thoughts.

His mate wasn't bothered by it; he even was able to greet a fellow miner and even exchange a few words. "Never ye mind, ye'll git used to it," Jake yelled to him, "But where we r' goin' tis a bit quiet.

The work mate then noticed the worrisome fear in eyes, "Ah see ye also got th' jitters of th’ dark. Aferred of seeing th' devil or any ov his boys down h'yar, are ye?"

Jeremiah tried to answer but was stopped by the continued words of his mate.

"All th' boys were mighty fearful at times an' were skerred, but not now as we 've a mighty thing agin' them evil critters... an' they r' not come h'yar since.. Sure thing tis it be. Them thar critters don' give us any more trouble..No siree!"

"Got it frum them three ol' womin' at th' forest. Mighty fearful thing tis is...does its job real well.." Before he was able to go into detail about the mystic relic, Jake warned him to step aside as a coal car was nearing.

Jeremiah jumped from the tracks upon the command. While he waited for the passing of the car, he thought for a moment on Jake's words.

They asssured him and it enabled the clearing away of the imaginary fears; with this relief in mind, he carried on with the knowledge of his safety from the unseen evil creatures by that unknown protective charm.

They left the tracks and trudged through a new tunnel being drilled in the coal facing; the noise of the tracks and belts were replaced by the noise of a rotary roof bolter installing bolts for the roof supports. The noise diminished as they trudged down the sloping tunnel till they came to a blind shaft leading to the coal facing. Another grinding noise greeted Jeremiah, the continuous vibrating sound of a high-pressure pneumatic air drill. The youth heard the continual hissing of the escaping air and showed his puzzlement, "Ain't no spirits jest a bit o' high air," answered Jake as he indicated that they should put their load down next to an idle drilling machine much to the relief of Jeremiah's aching arms. There was pause for a moment of rest as they untied their lunch pails from their belts and got ready for the day's work.

Jake called out loudly to the two man crew of the working pressure drill at a near distance from them. It took some hefty shouting before he got their attention. The drilling noise stopped and the two miners greeted Jake. After a bit of light banter he spelled out his word, "Got me a few new drillin' bits.. Ye ken 've one of 'em if there be need."

Jeremiah was quickly introduced. "New boy t' work th' pits wit' me.Tis' be Lemmuel's boy.. Take th' place of th' other feller who go himself in a bit of a bother with th' pit bosses." Jeremiah got a hearty shake of grimy hands and the nodding of the heads, mixed with a couple of words of greeting, from the two black-faced crew.

The talking was short lived and the sound of drilling was heard again. Jake called Jeremiah to assist him at the idle pneumatic drill as he started to replace a broken drilling bit with one of the new ones. The apprentive passed the right tools from the box upon the call of his mate; and within a short time the new bit was in place, and that the broken pieces of the old bit gathered at the tool container.

"Boy, c'mon h'yar. I'll show how t' couple th' air hose t' th’ drill. Now y' take the line to thet air line over thar. Thet's it. Now twist th' coupling t' th' line," he instructed. Jeremiah did as he was told but when he started to couple the line, Jake had opened the pressure valve, and the air hose snaked out of his hands with a loud whooshing sound. Jeremiah jumped up and down to avoid the air hose as it danced about his legs; he screamed loudly in fright.

Then he heard the hoarse laughter of Jake, "Tis a bit of a laugh," as he shut the valve. "No more tricks, never ye mind... jest fit th’ line t' th' air pipe." Jeremiah did it cautiously with one eye on his boss.

Jake instructed his apprentice in the placing the shaft drill on its support, and the right method in aiming the bit to its correct spot on the coal facing. Jeremiah's boss was rough in his ways but his instruction was done with careful thought, and he shrugged of the minor errors of his apprentice with a harsh word or two before directing the right way.

"Ye won't be doin' any drillin' fer some time... only helpin' me with holdin' th' line an' helpin' wit the' other work and runnin’ about an' fetchin' things fer me."

The machine was set and Jeremiah felt the vibration of the drill as holes were drilled; within time he was dusted with the black of the bitumen, looking like a black devil. The work was tiring and there was no time to think, just the thought of a weary body.

The workday continued with the hammering of the pneumatic drill, the heaviness of placing the shafted bit at mark spots, and the vibration of the air hose. Jake gave the signal when sufficient holes were bored, and both crews stopped in their drilling. Jeremiah, on his instruction, ran to the pit boss and told him that the holes were ready. Upon his return he helped his mate uncouple the pneumatic drill. Together they manhandled it and the other implements back afew feet to a large opening in the walls of the tunnel.

tried to drown the wretchedness from his soul. In the vapours of the drink he even cursed the devil himself; his harsh words to the Lordy also questioned his might and powers. There was no answer from the heavens above only the sound of the Devil Sin as he looked on and laughed in the doom of hell.

Jeremiah Micaiah roamed through the settlement with the container of the devil's brew, cursing the air with foulness of his phrases; nobody, not even the blessed Lordy was spared in his blasphemy. The sight of a drunken soul staggering with the sound of a loud harsh voice along the paths in the hollow was accepted in the eyes of the good folk; it was common occurence being one of the crosses to be borne in their miserable existence.

The sight of Jeremiah's drunkeness was new in the eyes of the good folk of the settlement, especially his expressive habit of talking loudly to spirits that circled in the fantasy of his mind. Neither his young age nor his fouling words disturbed them; only his constant conversation with unseen creatures was their reason of fright. They imagined he was bewitched in his drunken state, and that demons, spirits and the rest of the creatures of hell were called to him.They feared the presence of the creatures of hell when Jeremiah was in the stupor of drink, and they quickly ran from his sight when they heard his footsteps and raucous bellowing.

"Jess like yer pa!" Miz' Jezebel, his scolding mother, angrily berated him when he entered her grand house in such a state of drunkeness. The curse of the Jeremiah's continual drinking played havoc with her very being; she become more tense in her actions and her voice increased in its harshness. Even Miz' Jezebel's body showed signs of her miserable burden; it was seen from the greying of her once full red hair to the slight stooping of her burdenous frame.

Miz' Jezebel looked into the bleary eyes of her son and she shook her head in dismay, "yer a dis'grace, ye be a miz'rable slob wit all thet drinkin' an' carryin' on agin' th' good Lordy.."

Jeremiah just stared at her in the blur of his drunkeness and within the depth of his stomach he let forth a loud belch.

"Ye be walkin' th' road to th' hell-fires of the Moloch. I kin hear them a' comin' fer yer hide if ye don stop thet sin of th' devil drink. Don' let them take ye..."

"Yeh (hic) maw!"

"Land sakes, T'aint no use in talkin' t' ye being in sech a state Th' time is gittin' mighty late... jess a few hours left fer a bit of shut-eye... Now git t' yer bed..."

Somehow the command of Miz Jezebel, Jeremiah's stern mother, penetrated his thoughts, and he turned around and staggered from her sight. He turned his dizzy head slightly and saw his mother on bended knees with her arms beseeching the heavens above, "Lordy, Lordy, help me pore son, d'ye hear... Lordy please help, please help," and her words turned to slight sobbing. Jeremiah didn't wait to hear the last of her words or sobs, and continued to stagger to his room.

The light of the full moon guided him along darkened hall as Jeremiah stumbled on the worn carpeting towards the stairs. Whatever demon was seen was kicked aside by his erratic feet and the shadow spirits remained hidden. He clumped up the staircase tripping over his unsteady feet, and at every time he stumbled, he let loose foul words upon the devil, the blessed Lordy, and even toward Miz' Jezebel, his suffering kin. Somehow he managed to find the opening to his room where shuffled to his bed, an iron railed spring creaking monstrosity.

Jeremiah fully clothed and booted simply fell on the cornhusk matttress. He disregarded the loud squeals of the springs, and within time was snoring heavily. Jeremiah's sleep was filled with the tormenting nightmares of the demons, evil spirits and the other evil creatures of the nether world.

He tossed and turned as he dreamt that they drove him naked and beaten through the eerie depths of Satan's realm coupled with their hideous barking commands. He felt in his dreams of hell the dank dripping from the cavernous halls smelled the rank odour of burning sulphur, and witnessed the demeaning punishment to the wicked sinners.

Jeremiah groaned deeply and stirred nervously in the misery of the fiendish nightmare that brought his image to the sacrificial pit of the fiery god, the Moloch. He heard the loud shriek of a primitive horn and the hoarse cries of unseen worshippers. He struggled in his sleep, clawing with his hands as he was dragged screaming to the yawning burning cavity.

Until he heard the booming sound of a drum.... Miz, Jezebel heavy pounding on the door woke him from his troubled sleep, "Jeremiah, ye lazy critter, it be gettin' mighty late..."

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jeremiah Micaiah in the twenty-third year of his life was a ruin of man. His once youthful worrisome face was now blotched with the signs of drink; and there was a constant leer on his features, the remains of the stupor of the spirits. In addition he was plagued with phlegem filled lungs that told of another curse, the beginning of miner's lung; his lips at intervals puffed in the attempt of clear breathing.

He had been promoted to driller and the strength of his body was sapped by the constant vibration of the pneumatic machines that dusted his body with the black foulness of the pits.

Jeremiah was considered a loner by his fellow miners, even though he shared their company in the passing of the jar. He joined them when they trudged to the pits, and at odd times exchanged a few parting words on the road home. But, all and all, Jeremiah prefered the company of the varied creatures of the nether world instead of the warmth of man.

His strangeness also warned the available young ladies to steer clear from his path. But, Jeremiah, in the foulness of his life, showed neither hoot nor holler for them. When the need aroused, he just hopped to Miz' Sadie's crib, paid his dues, and then tousled in crude coupling with one of the uncaring women of pleasure.

Miz' Jezebel, his ever-patient mother, stood the hard toil of her son's ruin; her worried and lined face spoke of the day by day struggle. She was tired in her bitterness, as she felt helpless at the sight at the slow deterioration of her boy. The tone of her voice was coarsed with hoarsness through her contant harranging towards the wayward steps of Jeremiah.

She berated her son constantly for his sinning, and, in the course of her argument she repeated the warning of the terrible punishment awaiting the sinners in the hell-fires of the Moloch, "ye be sittin' an' moonin' fer yars on Sally's passing...drinkin' til ye drops.. Th' gal 'll not be a' returnin' mind you. Drinkin' 'll not bring her back not t' hell freezes over.. Th' only thing a'comin' r' th' hell fires ov thet wicked Moloch. He'll be a'waitin' fer yer sinnin' hide!

'Member me words." Everytime at the sight of her son seen deep in the haze of the spirits, Miz' Jezebel would go in to a repeated harsh fit of speechification in an attempt to correct his ways. She knew no words of solace, a balm that would console him in the misery of his past loss; and, perhaps, would direct him in the right way towards salvation. She only prayed hard to the good 'Lordy' for the redemption of her son but no answer was heard.

Miz' Jezebel's warnings on sin was heard on that terrible day in the recent past. Satan was the listener, and he heard her spelling out the phrases of the Good Book as she tried to lead her son into the ways of repentance and salvation; and he witnessed the rejection. "Now," chortled the devil as he saw the rewards of the temptation to sin, "Now, the sacrificial lamb shall walk in the beat of the drum to the bronze welcoming arms of the Moloch, the god of eternal heat." Those who believed could hear his fiendish laugh

Satan watched on that early morning as Miz' Jezebel, the sinner's care worn mother, banged on the door to her son's door as was her usual custom. The devil heard her harsh tones when they were repeated in the early day warning, "Jeremiah, tis gettin' late.. git yer hide.. Jeremiah, d'ye hear!" And the Prince of Darkness knew that the youth always woke up slovenly from the loud call, a miserable release from a drunken sleep mixed with the horrors of a terrible haunting nightmare.

Jeremiah answered the call of his impatient mother after he had the partial clarity of mind. He rose fully dressed from his creaking bed, and in a fit of irritation threw off his soiled clothes of the past evening, changing to the garments of his job. Without reason he just walked aimlessly about the room for a few moments ejecting loud belches that rose from depth of his bilious throat to the foulness of his open mouth. Collecting his wits somewhat, he stumbled from the room, pushing aside his waiting mother. With a sense of urgency he rushed from the dwelling to the outhouse; and on the way he shook shook his foggy-brained head in an attempt to regain the fullness of his thoughts. Vomit oozed from his mouth and he quickened his pace.
 

Jeremiah Micaiah lay in the black void not seeing or hearing. His small world was a clean white-sheeted bed in the county hospital, surrounded by varied medical apparatus that monitored his heart beat, pumped him the breath of oxygen, removed the wastes from his body, and fed him solutions to sustain life. Slim plastic tubes protruded from his orifices, and thin electronic wires were attached to his chest and the top of his head. His right foot, heavily incased in plaster, was held high by pulley and rope. The hurt body was salved with healing ointments and partially covered with protective soft bandages.

Jeremiah didn't see or hear Miz' Jezebel, his tearful mother, as she sat on a hard backed chair near his bed in the agony of her vigil. She did not complain of her discomfort nor did she accept any offer for the needed haven of rest for her weary body. Miz' Jezebel just sat in the hardness staring at her quiet son; her voice of prayer was her only solace. The poor woman's eyes were red with tears as she called out to the blessed Lordy for the healing of her son. "Lordy, Lordy," she pleaded again and again, but no answer was heard. She did not address any words to Jeremiah in his entombed mind, words that would help in directing his way towards the clearing of the wounded brain. Miz' Jezebel only repeated the call to the 'Lordy'.

Miz' Jezebel, the vigilant mother, did not witness her son's awakening; she had taken the last bus back to the settlement for that needed rest. It happened that night about two weeks after Jeremiah's admittance. The dark hours of the night saw the emptiness of his curtained section in the ward; all was still. No noise was heard except the light snoring of one patient.

Suddenly Jeremiah awoke with a scream from the depth of his throat. "They be comin' after me, they be comin' after me!" He clawed at his bandages as his wide-opened eyes stared in terror at his sight of ugly creatures of the nether world as they flew about him in the flutter of their tattered wings. The imagination of his mind increased in their torment by creating a volume of monsters in all their ugliness; creatures of horror in all their fiendishness surrounded and plagued him. "Git away... Git away." He screamed louder and louder as he tried to escape from their devilish tortures and curses.

His loud terrified cries created alarm; it woke up the other patients and their frightened voices called out for help. The night nurse heard the tumult in the ward and ran to investigate. She saw the movement of Jeremiah and heard his screams of terror; the nurse tried to calm him, without success. She then ran hurriedly to the nearest phone and called for a assistance which appeared in the form of two other nurses and the duty doctor. The strength of the four was barely able to hold the struggling patient steady as the doctor injecteds anarcotic filled syringe into Jeremiah's body. The sedative took hold quickly and he plunged back again into the void.

Then the nurses attended to his torn bandages and the adjustment of the scattered medical apparatus. After arranging Jeremiah on clean sheets, the nurses banded his arms and body, holding him taut to the bed. The only sound heard from him was the ejected deep asthmatic breathing from his hurt body.

Jeremiah awoke early the next morning in the fog of injected sedatives; and his body floated on their vapours. His sight was blurred, and when he saw the hazy white of the attending nurse his terror returned. He tried to scream out for protection from the fantasy of ghostly creatures of the underword that surrounded him, but his voice was stilled by the opiates. He tried to raise his arms for protection but the bonds restrained him. Jeremiah was forced to lay back on the white of the sheets, and to endure the cursed words and the wicked tortures devised by the devil and his consort of demons and shadow spirits.

Other ghostly apparitions surrounded him. The attending doctor and orderlies, that administered to his wounds and burns were seen as attendandants of the fire god, the Moloch. The agony of terror raced through his demented mind; from thick lips he mumbled his fears. His crazed mind increased in its caprice, and fantasized being taken by them to the sacrificial burning pit. The imaginary sounds of the blare of horns and the beat of drums deafened him as their sound increased in its tempo. His terrified eyes widened as he stared at the spears of the holy men as they pressed their sharp sticks in his body; the hypodermic needle found its mark on his arm, and it pumped an additional dose of narcotics. Slowly the numbness entered his body and again he entered a deep sleep.

Time was locked in the deep void; time was unknown when he reawoke. A new terror entered his imagination as he saw a blurred figure in the darkness of cloth seated near his bed. "The Moloch, the Moloch!!" he screamed inwardly as he saw in his hallucination a calf-headed figure staring menacingly at him; not of the reality of Miz' Jezebel, Jeremiah's trying mother. He only saw claws unfold as her embracing arms reached out to console. With all his deep strength he tried to pull himself from the bonds but to no avail. Terror increased and he let forth a clear howling scream.

Miz' Jezebel, now a frightened woman, watched in the state of shock as she witnessed the nurses and doctors in their struggle with her crazed son; she was frozen in her stance, unable to speak or try to help. She cried out in helplessness as she saw the fight and screams of Jeremiah, and in the movement of the syringe as it pumped additional sedatives into his body. When all was still, Miz Jezebel dropped in the hardness of an offered chair and wept bitter tears.

After that terrible scene Miz' Jezebel was advised not to visit her son until there would be signs of improvement in his mental condition. At first she protested, but with the horrible memory of that incident still fresh in her thoughts, she agreed. With a heavy heart, the stooped worn figure left the confines of the ward; her only comfort still remained in the belief in the Lordy's presence.

Afterwards at the advice of the head of the medical staff, Jeremiah was placed in a solitary closed ward with a strong male nurse to attend to his needs. He was watched closely at all times but he showed no signs of improvement; instead the continuing illusions and fantasies increased his fears to the point of madness.

Jeremiah lived in a cocoon of narcotics as his physical wounds healed in their slow pace. He was relieved of the rope and pulley but not of the bands around his body. Bandages were removed and the wounds showed signs of healing; and the reddened long scar on his right cheek was the only memento of the mine disaster. Only his mind cursed with the deep imagination of supernatural beings surrounding his being, plagued him and it needed the continuance of sedatives to calm him.

A few months elapsed, and the medical board met and discussed Jeremiah's physical and mental condition. Physically, they agreed, that the patient had healed well in body. His mental state was cause for concern and it was decided on further treatment, namely a stay at the state's mental institution.

But the busy and the careless minions of the hospital staff forgot or just did not bother to tell of their decision to Miz' Jezebel, the patient's worrying mother. Her black draped form was there at the gates of the institution almost every day, gazing with tearful eyes towards her son's ward.

 

Chapter Thirty

Jeremiah Micaiah was embraced by a tight fitting straight-jacket that prevented any movement, and his mind was heavily sedated when the orderlies removed him from the bed and placed him securely on a gurney. His face was a mask of horror with wide staring eyes; and his head crowned with tangled hair. The crazed patient just turned his head from side to side, and from his silent mumbling lips was the sign of attempted speech. The orderlies didn't understand his movements, but they just saw a crazed patient carrying on in his madness. Jeremiah continued in his disturbed state, desperately trying to drive away the imagined creatures and monsters that flew about him.

The day of his departure to the mental institutions was trying in the eyes of Jeremiah. He was strapped and secured as he was wheeled quickly through the wide corridors of the hospital; the passing sight of doctors and nurse in the white of their dress increased his fears.

His frightened eyes stared at the supposed adherents of the Moloch as they neared him; his now bandaged mouth was sealed and he was unable to call out his terrors. The crazed figure watched in fear as the wor shippers brought him to the pit of the sacrificial fire; struggle was useless in his bound state.

Jeremiah was then lifted into a waiting ambulance; his body secured and guarded. As the ambulance drove with the wail of it sirens, he screamed inwardly, "Yah, yah Moloch!" in an attempt to placate the god and to prevent his sacrifice. Terror increased as the vehicle sped along the byways of the city to the institution; each flash of light through the windows was seen in his demented state as the signs of the reflected sacrificial flames.

The long broad driveway into the grounds of the mental institution looked strange in the eyes of Jeremiah with its manicured lawns and coloured flowerbeds. He struggled in his bonds with fear in his eyes as the hushed tones called out, "Don' take me, don' take me!" He called mutely over and over again. His crazed imagination placed him on the grounds leading to the place of worship to the Moloch. As the ambulance drove through the driveway, he saw the blue gowned attendants of the temple; the servants of the god were walking around the grounds, some with their arms folded akimbo and their heads bowed as they muttered prayers.

Then he saw, in the horror of his deep garbled fantasy, white garbed ghostly images neared and herded the servants of the temple to the gates of hell. Jeremiah's maddened mind was deeply confused as at first he saw the attendants of the god and now the keepers of hell.

His crazed eyes stared widely at his imaginative sighting, but before he was able to call out a warning to the humble servants in blue, the ambulance stopped with screeching brakes in front of the entrance to the portals of hell.

Jeremiah Micaiah entered into the depth of the nether world as his straightjacketed body was placed in a padded and securely locked room. He saw the eye of Satan staring through the thick frosted glass of the door; the devil coursed his gleeful sight on the miserable figure as he thought of other torments to inflict on the trapped sinner.

Torments came quickly with the sight of hefty male attendants that entered the confines of his room; they removed the confines of leather and heavy cloth. Then they tore off his foul pajama pants, scrubbed the wastes from his body and dressed his body in clean linen.

Afterwards they wheeled in a gurney which the placed the re-secured form of Jeremiah. He was wheeled into a small examining room, empty except for a large white stainless steel table covered with a white sheet. Jeremiah was relieved again of the jacket, grabbed by his arms and legs by the attendants of the temple and strapped on the coldness of the altar. Suddenly he was immersed in a white light that bathed the room in brightness. Fear engulfed him as he saw the high priest emerge from a darkened anteroom, and slowly approached the altar; the examining doctor scanned his records as he walked towards him. Jeremiah watched as he addressed his two faithful servants, and on his command they stood aside and held their arms akimbo. The fantasied figure of doom called to him on the name of the devil, "Jeremiah, Jeremiah Micaiah!"

The crazed patient didn't respound to the call of the psychiatrist who was trying to make an initial contact with him. "Jeremiah, Jeremiah Micaiah, do you hear me," the ghostlike voice called out again and again but his fear deafened the sound. The patient was then injected and he drifted back into the void. Jeremiah Micaiah's long days of treatment was the same with added misery of having a tube shoved down his throat as he was force fed the nutriments to sustain his body. He also had the daily torment of being thrown on a cold slab of marble and devoid of his bounds and clothing, and having his body vigorously scrubbed; there was the added discomfort of having his head sheared baldly.

Two years elapsed and Jeremiah, continual shorn and scrubbed, endured the misery of remedial treatment. His body endured electric shocks, cold pressure showers, and the rest of the kindly medical practices; through this agony of remedy the psychiatrist was slowly able to make contact with Jeremiah. The doctor probed the mind of his patient who was strapped securely to the examining table during the examiniations. With patience he found the way to enter the recesses of Jeremiah's mind.

The patient responded slowly telling of seeing imaginary creatures and devilish monsters that plagued him with threats of sacrifice and damnation. The physician understood from the limited talks that Jeremiah's madness were caused by torments of these fantasies of the mind; with the aid of an electric shock he punctuated the spelling out of these vivid imaginations by his patient with a charged pulse. The burning force of the electric shock caused anguish to Jeremiah, and the thought of its torture caused him to have tremors.

The psychaitrist continued in this torturous treatment - the name of the Moloch, the fire god on Jeremiah's lips followed with an electric shock - the name of Satan and of the other creatures of the nether world resulted in further charged pulses. Slowly these names were not uttered for fear of the buzzing shock. The doctor was satisfied by the treatment and the electric charges were slowly stopped; Jeremiah's physical bounds were then replaced with the restraint of various opiates.

He was then placed in the secure section of those deemed curable. Jeremiah, with a slight tremor in his limbs, was able to attend to his simple duties of eating, washing and dressing. He was allowed the freedom of the ward. In this way he understood the boundaries of his confinement. Jeremiah exhanged a few simple phrases with other patients; and even grinnned at the attentive words of the orderlies.

The correct pills were perscribed and nurses were on hand to ensure their consumption. Medicine that healed partially his insanity but left untouched the mental scars buried deep down in his demented mind ready to resurface. The continued treatment, that Jerememiah received, were only hour-long talks that probed deeper into his mind. He respounded well and the psychiatrist were satifisfied. In fact, the practitioner thought it to be such a strange case that he wrote a paper on his patient's crazed mind which he detailed his so-called psychiatric treatment; it was presented to an attentive audience at a seminar at a local university.

The satisfied psychiatrist allowed an added measure of comfort to Jeremiah; he was alloted the limited period of monthly visits of Miz' Jezebel, his long-suffering mother. She saw during her short visits a creature of horror, one with a shaven skull with a constant silly grin on his features; a mentally deformed figure with a widened smirk that spread till it reached the reddened scar on his right cheek. She was appalled at the slowness of his speech not understanding his calming sedatives.

Her talk to her son was simple in nature with its center of conversation on his health, wellbeing and on his somewhat quiet life in the institution. Sometimes she added a word or two on the life in the settlement and to give a note of best wishes from a neighbor or kinfolk. After an hour or so of the allocated time for the meeting, Miz' Jezebel would make her leave carrying her burden on the heaviness on her mind as her fleshy body on veined bloated feet made their way to the exit.

At various times Jeremiah was allowed to walk arounds the enclosed gardens of the institute. With a baldhead bent and arms akimbo he shuffled on slippered feet through the paths around flower beds and shrubs. The other blue-gowned inmates liked him. There was little exchange of conversation; just the eye-catching projected through the fogginess of their drugged minds. Physically strong orderlies were on hand to insure their wellbeing; and those who gave the indication of trouble were forcibly removed.

Jeremiah lived another year under the protection of the state, receiving the necessary treatment. Drugs were lessened to the daily doses of needed opiates, and slowly but slowly, he started to return to a partial state of normalcy. In his twenty-seventh year of his life he was shaped and formed into a man of the middle years. His chunky body was gross, being filled with the bland foods of the institute; his mind was in a constant foggy state, doped with the prescribed narcotics. There was little treatment offered for his miner's lung and the signs of the illness were seen in his puffed face coupled with thick lips and a veined nose.

The psychiatrist looked at the medical chart of his patient and he was pleased with the results. Jeremiah respounded well to the treatment; and in the able doctor's astute opinion, the patient was ready for discharge with further care at the outpatient department at the county hospital. Jeremiah received a final checkup; and he was told of the good tidings of his so-called improved mental health. He was warned to take the assorted pills at the correct times prescribed; the patient nodded his response and smirked at the news. As the doctor looked at Jeremiah's idiotic features, he made a mental note to remind his patient's mother of the required medicaments.

The psychaiatrist signed the necessary forms and Jeremiah was readied for discharge. He was placed in an open ward where his freedom of movement was not restricted. Miz' Jezebel, his trying mother, was notified and the date of release was indicated...

...And the bars of the narcotics held tight the fearful demons, shadow spirits and creatures of hell in the deep prison of Jeremiah's mind, waiting for release.

 

Chapter Thirty-One

Two pathetic creatures walked the gravel path leading to the exit of the mental institution; they were pictured in the care worn form of Miz' Jezebel, an aging and troubled woman, and Jeremiah Micaiah, a sedated figure with a constant grin on his puffed face. Their pace was slow as they treaded heavily on gritty stones of the path. The elderly quard uttered a soft farewell as he closed the heavy iron gate. The couple continued on their way along the road to the nearby bus stop where they waited patiently for their transport.

The sight of the two was amusing to the eyes of a few passers-by; they looked at the strangely dressed Miz' Jezebel bedecked in the outlandish garb of the hills, and Jeremiah clothed in ill-fitting clothes that choked his bulky body. 'Hillbillies' was the word that came into their thoughts as they laughed inwardly. But to those who cared it only invoked pity; the picture of the two with the background of the mental institution told of the sorrow. They knew it could only be a pathetic mother walking with her crazed son, a sight seen numerous times.

The bus came quickly and they boarded. Jeremiah found the seats, but Miz' Jezebel held back as she had an argument with the bus driver, "Paid less when ah came h'yar in th' mawnin'... now yer chargin' two more dollars fer th' ticket... t'aint fair!" The bus driver argued back and explained of different routes and times. But Miz' Jezebel held firm and in the end the frustrated driver gave in to her demands and he coupled his defeat with mutterings on his lips. Then in anger he shifted the gears, and with a jolt, shot foward in the continuance of his route.

The bus ride back to the settlement in the hollow was long and tiring with frequent stops and changes. They sat in their seats without the exchange of words; Miz' Jezebel stared ahead without seeing as her thoughts were on the misery on the future; Jeremiah just stared at the passing sights, and made motions or sounds at an inte-resting view that amused him. At the stops they only took a sip of water in the rest rooms, and at one point Miz' Jezebel treated herself and her son to a small bag of stale shelled peanuts.

The parish center was reached in the lateness of the day, and Miz' Jezebel, tired and worn, sighed in relief at the blessed end. As they embarked there was no exchange of conversation with the hangers-on near the general store. One or two gave a nod of recognition but the rest stared as the tired woman retrieved her meager parcels and her son's tote bag from the storage compartment of the vehicle. The she harshly grabbed her son's hand and uttered the first words, "C'mon let's git home... me back's a' tired an' me feet hurt.. Gimme a' hand wi' yer bag.. tis' mighty heavy."

They turned their travel worn feet to the dusty path that led to their grand house; they slogged quickly as the dusk of the early evening spread and cloaked the community in dimming light. Jeremiah, despite his foggy state of mind, took notice of the community with its shotgun shacks built within the cut stands of stunted pine; and he slowly realized that he was no stranger to the area. The clarity of his mind evolved and he was able to mark out familiar scenes, the forest riding the worn hills, the whitewashed chapel ready for the faithful and the familiar dwellings of his neighbors and kinfolk.

"Golly maw me thinks we're back home, aren't we!" he slurred. Miz' Jezebel, his relieved mother, heard the blessed words, and on her worn and lined face a glimmer of hope beamed forth.

Along the way the black coated corpulent figure of the good preacher of their chapel was encountered, and he greeted them with a cheerful tone. Miz' Jezebel was thankful for the chance meeting as she was full of misery and grief. The dam burst in her pitiful soul and she let forth a seemingly endless stream of sorrowful words; whereas the good cleric listened patiently and uttered the correct phrases of commiseration in return. After a while the good preacher addressed Jeremiah, and the young man answered to the best of his simple mental ability. A pause ensued. Then the man of cloth glanced at his dollar watch and exclaimed, "Oh my my, time's a'going.. got t' hurry along as th' good woman be a'waitin'" With a few pious words for the Lordy not to spare his might in the healing of the woman's son, he bid a cheerful note of departure.

Miz' Jezebel bid farewell to the good cleric and Jeremiah only smirked. Then they both returned to their trek along the dusty road. The remainder of the two-odd mile walk was quickly consumed, and the sight of the grand house was seen through the evening gloom. A few short paces and a climb of three steps and they were on its splintery porch. Miz' Jezebel, without a thought to herself, told Jeremiah to make himself comfortable on the rickety cane chairs set near an unstable but usuable deal table, "I'll rustle up a pitcher ov freshin' lem'inade from th' cooler... an' a bit ov baked goods... back in a' jiffy". With out an extra word she scampered from her son's sight and bustled to the kitchen.

Miz' Jezebel, Jeremiah's attentive mother, returned quickly with an election souvenier tray laden with pitcher of lemonade, two chipped mugs and a tin of her baked good. With a bang she placed it heavily on the rickety counter. "Dearie me, fergot the lamp... Gettin' on wit' darkness. Dearie me, cain't see a blessed thing, " as she exclaimed as she turned on her heels towards the kitchen. She returned shortly with a smoking, poorly lit kerosene lamp which she placed near the pitcher.

"Gettin' on in me yars. Mighty fergetful in me ways." she garbled as she filled the two glasses with the cool liquid; after grabbing a handful of her biscuits Miz' Jezebel, tired and worn, simply flopped heavily onto one of the cane chairs. "Take a sip ov th' lem'nade, mighty freshin' an' take a bit ov me baked goods. Did em a couple ov' nights ago."

Both Miz Jezebel and Jeremiah sat in the coolness of the evening hour and sipped bitter lemonade and chewed hard tack biscuits. They sat quietly, just staring out at the dimness of the night. Miz' Jezebel fidgeted in her chair, and, in an abrupt attempt, formed her speech. "Th' mine's been pretty good 'bout th' 'plosion, she stated slowly, "We've got a few hundred greenbacks frum th' company's insurenments. Then thar' waz th' half-pay ov yers fer a' two yars an' them bills paid at th' hospitals. Sure was nice ov 'em.." She spoke haltingly as she told of the help and stipends offered by coal miner's union, "Mighty needed in these h'yar times." Jeremiah heard her words, smirked and nodded without understanding.

After an hour or so Miz' Jezebel rose from the discomfort of her chair. With a note of irritability in her voice, she exclaimed to her son, "time's a' gettin' might late... Ah'm a bit tired.. So let's turn in. An' donts ferget yer pills.. Th' doctor tol' ye need t' take em afore ye gits to sleep..an' when ye gits up in th' mawning'...D'ye hear!" She then produced from a deep pocket of her dress a few bottles of pills, and carefully she doled the need amount to her son. "Now hear me a' tellin ye... Take these two wit' th' rest of yer drink.Th' other two when ye gits up in th' mawnin'," she stated emphatical-ly. Her pocket also yielded a stub of a candle which she lit from the kerosene lamp flame, and then stuck it in one of the mugs, "Fer ye t' make yer way wit a bit ov light, an' don ferget t' blow it out afore you get t' sleep."

Jeremiah watched his mother leave and he did likewise. He picked up the mug with the lit candle and walked through the hall towards his room. As he trudged along he looked at the peeling walls, he thought he saw crawling monstrous creatures trying to escape from the worn boards. As he climbed the worn stairs to his room the rays of the brilliant half-moon, beaming from the uncovered window, taunted his sedated mind with the rememberance of the past. The beating tread of his lumbering feet on the stairs recalled another sound that beat in fogginess of his mind. He tried hard in his weakness to recall the fading memory but to no avail.

Jeremiah entered his room and prepared himself for the rest of the night. The cover of the warm blankets and the narcotic of the taken pills carried him to a comfortable and relaxed sleep.

And as Jeremiah lay on the comfort of his the straw filled mattress, the Moloch looked on at the unsconcious form and placed his fiery mark on the forehead of the coming sacrificial lamb.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-two

During the passage of time, bits of clarity slowly returned to the mind of Jeremiah Micaiah bringing back past memories. Familar sights were seen and recollected - the works of the bustling colliery, the center in the hollow, and the mysteries of the climbing wooded hills. Neighbors and kin folk were sometimes recognized and there was, at times, casual chatter... and to the delight of Miz' Jezebel, his believing mother, Jeremiah returned to the chapel services of the Sunday mornings, "Th' Good Lordy be lookin' after me boy.."

The overworked phsychiatrist at the county hospital noticed Jeremiah's healing behavior during the weekly outpatient treatments.

After a short period elapsed, and after a cursory examinination, the doctor penned in many words telling of his patient's continuing good advance in his mental condition; that further treatment was not required, relieving the doctor of one more burden. He scribbled the correct prescriptions and handed the slip of paper to Miz' Jezebel, Jeremiah's honest kin, with a warning that her son must take the pills prescribed at the correct hours.

Jeremiah had an additional blessing in the form of the blocked memory of the terrible accident in the pits. The remembrance was deeply buried in the depth of his conscious being, closed beyond the reaches of his senses. The simpleness of his mind was unable to direct his thoughts that would bring foward that remembrance. Miz' Jezebel, his clever mother, was wise in keeping it as a secret, never revealing it... and, she warned kin and neighbors that her son's madness would get worse if he knew, "Now, mind yer talkin'. Me son's tetched in th' haid frum that 'plosion, an' he would go crackers if tol' 'bout it."

Within time the mine owners saw that he still had his wits about him, and in their generosity gave him a job at the sorting shed; their generosity was limited as he was offered a lower rate of pay. The work was easy for his strength; all he had to do was to sort the slag from the coal running along the circling conveyors. His companions were not the rough miners but youth in the early years of their adolescence; their ways were uncomplicated and Jeremiah was able to understand.

And again Miz' Jezebel, his ageing mother, had the tiredsome job of getting up at the early hours and shaking her son to wakefulness and preparing his breakfast. She cursed inwardly as she carried on her motherly duties.

The earliness of rising, the long hours at the mine, and the late return caused the neglect of remembering the taking of the narcotic pills as the regular hours; and within time the bottles emptied not to be refilled. The tiring efforts of Miz'Jezebel, his anguished and worried mother, were to avail, "Mind ye, them thar pills r' fer yer good an' needs t' be taken. Th' devil 'll take yer if ye don care fer yerself." But Jeremiah just looked at her with his smirking face and said nothing.

Satan laughed gleefully as he watched as Jeremiah replaced the needed medicine with the evil jar of liquor; he rubbed his hands with satisfaction as he knew that the sinner's soul would be his within time.

The loyal fellows of the jar welcomed him back, and Jeremiah Micaiah joined them in the late night hours at the regular meeting place under the old willow near the general store. His coin was accepted and he shared in the passing of the jar. "Th' looney tis great funs t' look at when he gits pissed," they reasoned in their stupidity. A few sips of the devil brew and Jeremiah, in the simplicity of his mind, satisfied their evening's entertainment with tottering clodhopping and off-key bellowing. He would carry on until the shopkeeper's good woman had her fill and would drive him and his companions away with cursing, together with the wielding of her broom.

...and afterwards Jeremiah just staggered back to the grand house with his friendly demon and spirit companions of the past tagging along. They flew about him, and Jeremiah talked with them, enjoying their pleasant company. They listened quietly and had the pleasure of the evening.

Jeremiah's drinking habits increased as he found solace in the fiery spirits. In this constant drunken state the memory of the mental hospital and the fear of the electric shock passed through his mind. He was seen constantly staggering through the settlement, a constant grin smeared on his features, and talking to some unseen creatures of his hidden fantasy. The passers-by couldn't understand his joy in conversing with friendly creatures of his mind or why his deep-set eyes flared in anger, as he cursed and slurred with foul words towards evil monsters, shadow spirits and the rest of the ilk. They could not reason that visions were only seen by the Jeremiah in the fantasy of his mind that increased in the swirling mist of drink.

He became a known figure amoungst the majority of the good citizens of the community - looked upon as a crazed and pitiful character. To the youngsters of the parish he was a target of their tricks and taunts, but to the believers of the word, he was deeply feared as they thought the devil and his emissaries of evil possessed him.

Miz' Jezebel, his worried and angry mother, remostrated with him and tried to change his ways but to no avail. She exclaimed in prophetic wrath of, "Ye be going' t' th' ways of th' devil... D'ye hear.. takin' t' drink 'stead of yer pills... Ye be walkin' th' way t' th' fire of thet' devil god th' Moloch." She cursed and raged at him, turning her reason to hate for the devil's possession of her son. But the creatures of hell swarmed in Jeremiah's mind deafening him to the justification of her words.

Again the crazed creature's trying mother, had to wait at entrance to her home on payday to prevent the wastage of his earnings on drink. As soon as Jeremiah entered the dwelling Miz' Jezebel snatched the wage packet from him and only offered him the few coins for the jar. The meager sum in her son's envelope, together with her late husband's tiny pension, was the only thought that entered the mind of Miz' Jezebel, Jeremiah concerned mother, as she bore her misery.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-three

Blackness visited the community during the trials at the coming winter months. The devil and his wicked emissaries had risen, and in their struggle regained their rule over the powers of the good. It was in the time when the freezing winds hardened the earth and froze the waters; through the cold of the air an ominous message was spread widely to the good folk of the community. Those who laboured in the pits that were first to receive the news that spelled the coming of troubled times. They heard it through the steady drumbeat of rumours beating in the air, in the rattle of uncomfirmed reports and by snippets of hearsay that passed in the gossip of their anxious voices. They whispered their knowledge to their kinfolk and the words from their voices increased the anxiety of fear and sometimes of panic.

Their hushed voices grew louder and louder in sound as it told of the competition of a new product - oil. Oil that was pumped from endless wells on the rich fields in the country and in lands abroad.

The flowing black liquid was easy to handle and its was cheaper in running costs. Rapidly petroleum products replaced coal powering the trains, lighting industry and warming the homes. "Piles of coal layin' about. . th' coal cars comin' in mighty slow," the miners muttered amoungst themselves as they cursed the sight of piling coal.

The alarming news of the competition also reached the ears of the mine owners; they carefully checked and rechecked their production sheets and balanced the figures of profit and loss. The officials read word by word the reports of their engineers; they studied various business documents. Then they totaled their information and came to the realization that the mining costs in the digging the coal from deep underground pits were increasing; that coal could not compete with oil in price. Profits together with the seam of coal were thinning out. Board meeting were called, and the member's answer was decided in the finality of long discussions. Their astute opinion, for the sake of their capital, to shut the mine. Closure of the colliery had to be done immediately..

The closure came on a cold winter's day as miners on the early shift found locks placed on the entrance gates to the mine. They were puzzled, stunned by the sight. True, the miners received a two weeks notice when they got their pink slips and figures computing compensation. But they only understood the daily labours of digging the coal; they were unable to comprehend the meaning of the pieces of paper, and very few took notice of the small typed print.

Mobs of angry miners formed in pockets around the mine office and at the closed gates leading to the pits. They shooked their brawny fists and flung invectives and threats to the officialdom of the mine. Attempts by the managers of the colliery to explain the reason for the closure fell on deaf ears; nor were they heard as they explained that the miners had no cause to gather and complain as they had been given proper notice. The coal diggers continued to block out the voices of the managers with catcalls heavily loaded with anger. They only thought of their lost jobs and answered back with ugly loud sounds of derision, "Yer liars, liars like ah stinkin' skonks. Git th' mine open, open th' mine." The roar of their angry voices increased, and there was a threat of violence sweeping the air.

The county sheriff and a few deputies were on hand to protect both life and property but they were few in numbers, and the determined will of the mob overcame their thin line. Both the sheriff and a few deputies fell back to the very doors of the office. They had to fire over the crowd to prevent them from breaking into the premises and taking the law of the brute into their hands, namely breaking the bones of the mine officials, and even stringing up one or two.

Discouraged in the first efforts the miners ran to the locks gates of the mine opening and with brute force trampled them down. Two deputies, on guard there, were easily overcome, and, through a couple of blows to the back of their heads, were rendered unsconcious. The toughest and loudest amoungst the mob assumed the leadership and led the way to the shaft elevator. The caged gates were heavily bolted and the miners slowly came to the realization of the meaning of the words of closure. Anger ensued, followed by a path of mayhem and destruction of the mine property. The rifles, snatched from the deputies, were used to shoot out windows and to disable electrical connections.

Miners grabbed heavy iron rods and tore out the chains of the standing conveyors. Some of them aided in the toppling coal cars. At one of the storage sheds, the mobbing coal diggers found stacked jeroboams of liquid alchohol which tasted to them better than the liquid spirits produced by the still. Sampling turned to guzzling and many of the miner's were plastered by its taste; a few passed out, stone cold.

From the mine office a call was put out to governing body of the state for assistance. Their garbled and excited voices were enough to convince the state authorities that additional forces would be needed to protect the mine property; they promised that help would be forthcoming. While the frightened mine managers waited, they watched helplessly as the intoxicated miners continued in their sacking and burning of property in their drunken rage. Miners danced madly around burning sheds like the emissaries of the devil; the raucous jeers of the onlookers seemed like a call to the demons and shadow spirits that winged evilly through the smoke filled air.

Suddenly, sirens were heard as a fleet of ten official vehicles filled with state troopers arrived on the scene. The officer in charge quickly surveyed the situation, and quickly gave orders to form up and push back the crowd; the troopers were given free use of their rifles.

A well aimed shot from a trooper's rifle, and the sight of a wounded screaming compatriot was all the miners needed to scurry back. They ran in panic, skeltering all about looking for shelter in their attempt to avoid the wrath of the flying bullets. The women folk gathered up their little ones, and scattered away through the turmoil with lingering shouts of panic emitted from their throats. Only a few additional shots in the air were required to herd the miners away from the colliery.

Within time a truckload of fourteen deputized men were brought to the mine to assist the state-troopers. "Scabs, scabs!" were the words shouted at them from a distance by the angry miners. But they had guns and the miners were forced to fall back from their haphazard shooting.

Fortunately these deputies were full of liquor and their aim was poor, and, in time, they engaged in another sport, chasing after innocent girls. It was unfortunate for a girl of the parish when they put their hands on her. The poor creature was dragged screaming to a hidden spot, had her clothes torn apart, and forced to submit to brutal sex by a handful of drunken deputies. The women-folk spelled deathly wishes against these evil monsters as they braved fusilades of shot to rescue their daughters; with determination and with the swings of hefty cudgels they succeeded. Only three weeping mothers were not so fortunate, and they had the misery of attending to the soiled bodies of their offsprings.

The dispirited miners reluctantly allowed the county fire trucks to traverse the rough roads to the mine; and they watched as the firemen hosed down the burning remains of mine sheds and the other property. There were no jeers from their lips towards the working fire-fighters only deep silent curses. Only, those filled with the alchohol, drunkenly directed their work, "Heh, Heh, atta' boy.. Jess that-a-way. Thar be th' fire.."

Afterwards heavy sounds were heard along the dusty roads. They signalled truckloads of guardsmen called up from the innocence of their lives to the misery of obtaining order. Twenty trucks, loaded with men and material, were in the convoy. The sight of the trucks prompted some of the miners, drunk and sober, to beat a hasty retreat to their shotgun shacks; a few took to the hills with their trusty weapons. Still there were many miners brave enough to welcome these strangers with the viciousness of their tongues.

The guardsmen immediately took up their positions, and within time the state policemen were relieved to attend to their regular duties. The deputized men were quickly subdued and disarmed; but the commanding guard-officer, being a righteous citizen and knowing of their drunken rapine offenses, simply drove them towards the waiting miners. And it didn't take long for the coal diggers and their women to recognize them as the ravagers of their daughters; with a whoop and a holler they jumped on the now sober deputies.

The following night was a misery for the soldiers. The youngsters of the community gathered near the encampments armed with rocks and slag. At a signal cry from their leader, they let loose a volley of missiles; some, with a true aim inflicted numbing wounds on the soldiers. It carried on for some time until one guardsman got fed up with the nuisance and he let loose a volley of shots towards the stone throwers; his flying bullets left one of the youth bleeding to death as he was rushed to the hospital. The guardsman was relieved of duty with a reprimand, but his action quickly stopped the missiles.

The following day, added troubles visited the miners as patrols of guardsmen pounded on the thin doors of their shotgun shacks; aided by the mine officials they sought out the so-called leaders of the mob and those suspected of destroying property. Without ceremony they entered the dwellings, one by one, scattering and breaking the spindly furniture until their search found their quarry. Within the sight of a mother and her brood, the man of house was dragged in front of the mine official, identified and then unceremoniously pushed outside. His hands were tied and he was dumped in an army lorry. The soldiers disregarded the resistance of the wailing women and sometimes in meaness used their rifles, direct in the pit of the stomach, to force them back into their shacks. The innocent citizens of the community were helpless as they looked on in anger and swore their revenge. They watched, cursing inwardly, as the truck pulled away from dwellings coupled with the whining cries of wives and children.

Revenge came quickly as the miners who hid in the hills came down during the night to the guardmen's encampment, and with true aim from their trusty shotguns, pelted the bodies of the unwary soldiers. Three guardsmen left a weeping wife and children and four others were crippled. The guardsmen immediately formed patrols; the state police joined in with the help of sniffing bloodhounds and experienced trackers. Within time two of the hidden men were shot down, four were captured and the rest driven away.

The search for the rioters continued. They came to the grand house of Miz' Jezebel and tried to force an entrance, but one the soldier's head rang with the well-aimed blow of a heavy skillet pan. Jeremiah's maw fought a hard battle despite the weakness of her aging limbs, and it had to have the determined strength of two soldiers to hold her. But she added to her struggle by shouting out curses and invectives, "Damn ye t' th' devil... Toadies ye be, toadies ye be lickin' th' boots of them bosses... Th' curse of the devil be up y' toadies.." One soldier tried to cover her mouth but Miz' Jezebel's teeth sunk deep, and he had to pull away hurriedly, yowling with pain.

A voice sound from the upper floor, "Yeh, this is one of them. Hidin' under th' bed." They dragged the struggling Jeremiah from beneath his bed and prodded him to stand. The mine offical surveyed him, "Yep, this here boy being another one of them scoundrels. Saw him pitchin' slag through th' warehouse windows." With out further ceremony, they tied his hands and prodded him downstairs, past his struggling mother to the waiting army lorry. The guardsmen quickly released Miz' Jezebel, and left with her curses trailing behind them.

Jeremiah was brought to the overcrowded jail filled, not with angry miners, but drunken men clodhopping and singing in off-key voices. Apparently there were back windows to the cells, and youngsters, armed with coins, brought an ample supply of spirits which they passed through the window bars. The sheriff attempted to stop the practice, but the youths were slippery devils, evading the sight of the deputies, and in the right time dodged through and passed the jars.

Jeremiah, well known to the group, was welcomed and his coinage was readily accepted. "C'mon in and join in th' fun," belched one of the miners. Within time Jeremiah dribbled the contents of many jars down his throat and the vapours caused drunkeness. "Yahoooo!" he shouted as his feet clumsily clodhopped to an unknown tune.

A county judge was called to try them and the sheriff's office was commissioned as a temporary court. The charges were read out, and under the fierce glaring stare of the judge, all pleaded guilty. The magistrate was firm in his demanding lecture on the respect of property; he called miners a bunch of good-for-nothing louts with no regard for the law. Fines were meted out, and since the amount was not readily available the offenders opted for the alternative, namely 30 days in the lockup.

...and the moonshiners knew the miners were good at their word and they supplied the miners with credited jars of their white lightning.

Jeremiah could hardly remember the thirty days he spent in jail as he was continually locked in a state of drunkeness together with the fantasy of his mind. But Miz' Jezebel, his anguished mother, could never forget the picture of his son upon his release - a grinning face covered with a scraggly beard, crowned with shaggy hair in tangles, and dressed in soiled clothes with the clear signs of vomit.

Death, the Intruder

For each of the good folk of the settlement, set in the hollow, there comes a moment when King Death takes them by the hand and says - "it is a time to rest, you are tired, lie down and sleep. For this sleep there is no fear, no care, only the everlasting peace as it has no to-morrow."

The righteous one asked, "Why do we have to die?" They told of their obedience to the words to the Good Book, their good deeds on the warm earth, their duty to family and kin, and yet they asked over and over again, "Why do we have to die, to go to that place way yonder? Yet, for those that asked, there was no answer.

For the wicked, the ungrateful, the selfish, the philander, death was the lasting punishment, visited upon them for disobedience, ingratitude or sheer stupidity. King Death said to these people, "It was the misfortune of an act that should not of taken place; therefore to wipe it out you had to die!"

King Death was there, the black clothed skeleton with his rusty but sharp scythe; the curve of the blade reaped the souls of the departed. The presence of King Death could be heard in the sound of the rattling of his bones of his skeletal frame. Those waiting till the last breath of life knew of his coming through the trickling of grains of sands in his hourglass; each grain falling like moments of time. The damned and the blessed looked and saw the spectral image approach softly as the grains of sand ceased in their flow... and their reaped souls were taken from the corrupt bodies and placed without rites in the black sack carried over his shoulder.

The Grim Reaper is an intruder whose appearance was seen in the past, felt in the presence, and expected in the future; he was not there in the beginning, but he made an early appearance. He came in error and then rattled his bones over the dying. The shadow phantom chortled in delight as armies are mowed down like sheaves of grain; He watched in joy as pestilence swept barren all life from towns and countries... And the Great Leveller rode and continues to ride on the penalty of sin, forcing its retribution in the form of death on the acts of senseless execution and coldblooded murder.

"King Death looks and leads the elected to the house of darkness, to the dwelling of nothingness; to a house from which he would entered never goes forth." King Death changed one from one mode to another, the reunion with the body to the earth, and the soul with the eternal spirit.

King Death's harvest is everlating and every living creature that fell to his reaping scythe never returns. He reaped with strength and patience in the past and carries on in this pace at the present, and will continue in the coming future. Everything lingers for a moment and then hurries to a mortal end. The plants and insects die at the end of a season, an animal falls to prey, and man struggles on for a few short years in time.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-four

Hard times hit the community of the hollow. Those with the thought of hopelessness packed up their meager belongings in their second hand autos, placed their kin folk in the remaining limited space, and hightailed it from the parish in search of the earning of bread for their families. They were few in numbers as opportunities were scarce for those who only knew the sound of the drill on coal facing. Other mines in nearby counties were closing down; the number of unemployed grew in numbers from day to day. "T'aint no use botherin' t' pack up an' move along.. Ain't no work now where and no how," they figured.

A handful of self-respecting chaps found demeaning work hauling cow dung from barns, clearing rubbish from outlying dumps and when available doing a spot of tar-patch work on the road. Yet this work was only on a part-time basis, and, of course, the earnings were pitiful. "Jess enough fer th' bread and milk fer the kids... an' maybe a couple of jars," they reckoned.

A few of the loyal workers were picked by the mine managers to fill the coal cars from the piles of surplus coal; the bitterness of 'humble pie' was in their throats as they took apart the machinery at the colliery. They worked hard in the misery of the labour as they slowly cleared the yards around the mine of everything of value; a value that could only be measured in the toil of their work over the past years. And even that labour of clearing the colliery dis appeared; and within a short period, these loyal workers join the ranks of the unemployed.

The laid-off miners lined up and received their weekly unemployment checks, and when the alloted time of payment ran out, they accepted the pittance of government charity in the form of food stamps. Church organizations collected some second clothing and distributed the meager collection to the poorly dressed children of the community. But charity was demeaning to the unemployed miners who rough hands could still hold a tool for an eight or twelve hour workday. They drank their misery through the foul and evil vapours of the jar.

The women folk had a constant battle with their men over the possession of the food stamps. The men wanted to trade them at the general store for the jars, and the women, in their right, wanted the official coupons for the bread and milk for their little ones and a bit for themselves. Fights were fierce and many a woman had their eyes blackened or their ribs cracked. The finality of the domestic conflict was that the men, through their brute strength, won out and many a child went to bed crying in hunger; thereby the bruised women folk also went to their beds and cried, not only for hunger, but in their helplessness.

The demoness Lilith, with feathered legs and bird's talons, roamed free throughout the hollow seeking her revenge from the first man's infidelity. Here and there Lilith kept her pledge to harming women in childbirth, as well as their newborn babes. Women screaming in the weakness of labour only spewed forth the stillborn. Mothers feared the cold of the nights as they found in the morning the bluish form of their little ones lying in their cradles. The women beat on their hardened breasts and wailed out their losses. Sorrowful times trailed on the wake of poverty throughout the hollow.

The stain of poverty increased from day to day. The coin was scarce, and only a few could enjoy its worth, which usually went to the endless drowning of misery in the jug. Children did not enjoy the teaching of 'Thet Godly Woman' as they were busy hunting scraps of metal to sell to the travelling Hebe junkman; a few were seen with the hand of beggary at the crossroads. A few of the older girls offered their bodies secretly for a pittance until they found the punishing hand of the law. And the minions of the law had additional duties in the course of the poverty - theft of property, drunken brawls, and, now and again, the drawing of the knife or the aiming of a shotun. The county jail was filled to capacity with the desperate offenders on minor charges; others charged with committing heinous crimes were sentenced to serve longer terms at the state penal institution.

True believers called out to the Lordy for deliverance from this terrible affliction. They jammed their little chapel in the hollow and sent forth-earnest prayers; and they offered themselves to His Son for that blessed salvation. They listened to the goodly words of their preacher as he turned the pages of his 'Good Book', but no answers came.

They turned to magic and idolatory; they spun the wheel of the magic of incantations and amulets to seek out the correct way for release from the shadow spirits, the demons and all the other feared creatures of the nether world. They called out the acradabra formula 'Lilith, Lilitu, Lilu, Lil' to protect their little ones from the wrath of the terrible demoness, Lilith. They strung garlic pods around their neck, filled their homes with symbols against the devil and his emmissaries...

...But there was no deliverance from the misery of their poverty, and, in time, the citizens of the community accepted their fate. It was looked upon as the curse of the devil.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-five

Jeremiah Micaiah was counted as one of the unfortunate unemployed, and he had to endure on top of its decaying misery an additional wretchedness, namely the wrathful tongue of Miz' Jezebel, his unrepentant mother. She didn't accept the closing of the mine, and had constantly included a curse or invective against the mine owners in her words. She didn't want to understand that the thinning seams of coal had lost in its competition with the cheap everflowing oil. Her reasoning were that the mine owners were at fault; she figured they were yellow bellies, interested only in stuffing their pockets with the profits from the sweat of the miners' toil. Since these officials were not within her sight the wrath of her tongue was delivered to her son, and every action he took it was coupled with the harsh phrases spewed from her bitterness. "Jess lok ye' - shiftless an' no durn good - T'aint yer fault ah s'ppose," her words spumed, "Ye be workin' in them pits an' earnin' a bit ov money if it weren't fer them shiftless skunks, them thar high and mighty bosses!"

Jeremiah simply ignored her mother's bitter words and turned his thoughts away from the babble of her vicious tongue. He turned to the enjoyment of the companionship of his friendly demons and shadow spirits that constantly surrounded his mind. Miz' Jezebel in fury nagged him when he turned his back on her, "Y' be listenin' t' me, boy when ah be talkin' t' ye," But Jeremiah just turned his back on her and closed up his mind... and the surrounding creatures joined him...

When tired of the sound of Miz' Jezebel's harsh and bitter words, he simply left the grand house. Not a word was uttered as he slammed the door of the grand house. It was his daily custom to troop about the dusty paths of the settlement only talking to his invisible friends; alway accompanied by a small group of taunting youngsters.

Jeremiah, now in his thirtieth year, was accepted by the settlement as a harmless crazed hulking figure whose smirking features provoked pity to some and feared remarks by others.

On the close of the day Jeremiah Micaiah escaped to his fellows, where they usually met under the old willow near the general store. They met in all forms of the changing weather; just warming their souls with the fiery liquid. Through the trade of a couple of food stamps he tasted the spirits of the jar in their company. Jeremiah enjoyed their friendship and joined in their drunken revelry, namely clodhopping about to the tune of raucous bellowing. His presence evoked tricks and pranks played upon him by his so-called companions; whatever was done to him for their amusement. The simple figure played his part, carried them out, and laughed together with the culprits.

At the late hours all were in the fog of drink; they joined their arms around their shoulders as they bellowed and staggered through the dusty road. A sleeping stray dog or a mangy cat on the prowl usually suffered a thrown missile and the creatures yelped away in the pain of the blow. They yelled and hooted as they clodhopped their unsteady feet to their respective shotgun dwellings.... and the unseen creatures circling Jeremiah joined in with silent merriment.

Jeremiah never faced the hard stare of Miz Jezebel, his embittered mother as it was her custom for an early nightly rest. When he entered the grand house. Carefully he opened and closed the creaking door. "Shhh," he whispered to the creatures surrounding his mind.

"Shhhh, (hic) y'll wake th' she-devil," as he snickered softly to them. Darkness was all about, and the only sounds heard were his mother's loud snoring and gasping for breath that reverbrated through the thin partitions.

Jeremiah staggered through the hall as he made his way in the shadowy obscure light to the stairs leading to his room. The walls were uncomplaining as he bumped into them, and their was no movement from the boards sighted dimly in his drunken gaze. He slouched up the creaking stairs to his room. Without undressing or removing his shoes, he fell on the complaining bed and drifted off to a intoxicated sleep.

Jeremiah's life continued in its circle of fantasy and the taste of the jar until that fateful day in the heat of the summer months. On the afternoon of that dreadful day, government agents took a fancy to search out the darkened forest above the settlement. Together with the able assistance of the sheriff and two of his deputies they rooted out a couple of hidden illicit stills; one happened to be the main supplier of liquid spirits to the settlement. While the officers of the law handcuffed the owners, the agents, with their wielded sledge hammers, wrecked havoc on the apparatus. Both the sheriff and his deputies watched the flow of spirits on the hard ground, and the dryness of their mouths felt the loss.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-six

At the darkening of that fateful night, the terrifying sight of the devil wafted in the flow of the air above the community - waiting and watching. The black creatures of Hades hovered above Jeremiah as he trudged the odd mile to the center and to the companionship of his fellows. As he walked along the dust-churning road the friendly spirits of his fantasy were replaced with demons and frightening shadow spirits. They flew above him calling out their taunts and threats. Jeremiah tried to drive them away, but they continued to haunt him despite his threatening weepy voice, "Git away, ye be th’ curse of th' devil, git away." He waved his hands wildly about in an attempt to drive them away, but they continued to whirl about him.

Somehow in his crazed efforts he managed to turn the rhythm of his fantasy and the tormenting creatures were forced to flee from his thoughts. Jeremiah was deeply puzzled by this interference of these creatures from the abode of the underworld that entered his simple mind. But when he reached the willow at the center and saw the despairing look on the sober faces of his drinking companions, he knew something was amiss. A few words from their lips told the miserable story; and the presence of one miserly half-filled jar ended the narration.

Miz' Jezebel, his vindictive mother, was there in the kitchen of the grand house waiting for him when he returned dejected and forlorn. In her sixth sense she had a feeling of his early return, as she had heard from gossiping tongues of the raid. "Now give me back them food stamps ye be taken frum me. . Gimme them. T'night ye an' yer pals 'll be mighty hurtin' fer a bit ov drink, won't youse..." She stretched her arm towards him and grasped the stamps from his clenched fist. She continued to censure him with the bitterness of her tongue, tearing to shreds Jeremiah's entire being; her damning words increased in tempo as they ridiculed his simple mind and mimed his ways, both sober and drunken. "Babble, babble, babble, talkin' t' strange hidden critters.

T'aint sech a thing. Jess yer crazy mind a' workin'," she ridiculed him, stomping her feet rhythmically to the madness of her jeering.

Jeremiah blocked his ears and screamed out for her stop but to no avail. "T'aint so... T'aint so..."

"Babble, babble," she continued without any thought to the effect of the taunts upon her unstable son. The bottled misery, she endured for the past years, opened and it spilled their slime in her vindic-\b tive jeering. Miz' Jezebel, in the madness of her tongue, was beyond reason, and she continued to pour out the foulness of her life. "Jess like yer pa... danm 'im t' hell... may he rot 'n th' miz'ry of his grave... drinkin' his life 'way.. Yer jes lik yer miz'rble ol' man," she heckled him viciously.

STOP, ye be a' hurtin... STOP!" Jeremiah yelled in anguish as he pressed harder on his ears.

"Babble, babble, y' crazy loon," Miz' Jezebel jeered him as her body spun slowly in a maddened dervish spin, her feet banging on the boards. Then she stopped and pointed a boney finger at her son; without thought or reason she cursed his very existence as being the reason for the mark of the Moloch on her soul. "Damn ye. . ye be birth wit' mah curse ov th' Moloch... Thet devil bin a-hauntin' me fer yars. Ah see him a'comin' thru thet drinkin' thets foulin' yer looney mind.. thet heathen evil spirit 'll be a-comin' t' take ye, don' y' fear.."

The mention of the evil Moloch inflamed his crazed mind and increased his dementia. Evil creatures of the nether world reappeared and hovered over Jeremiah as he raised his hands, threatening by force to stop the jeering words of Miz' Jezebel, his aged and spiteful mother. But there was no stopping the madness that gripped her and the foulness continued to flow from her lips, increasing in their viciousness.

The fierceful demons and shadow spirits prodded him forcefully with fierce taunting words, and the mark of the Moloch burned fiercely on his brow. Over and over the monstrous creatures plagued him until he could not bear their gibes. Then without thought, Jeremiah grabbed a small piece of wood from the pile lying near the range oven and lashed out at his mother.

The first blow missed but the second one grazed the greying red of her scalp causing blood to flow. Miz' Jezebel screamed as she placed her right hand on the trickling blood trying to ease the hurt on her head. Seeing another blow aimed at her, she bent her aging body dodging the swinging stick. With a suprising agility of her careworn body she pushed one of the chairs against her son causing him to trip and fall.

Miz’ Jezebel, maddened by the blow, stared hard at her fallen son and with damning threats cursed loudly his very being. "Damn ye, damn ye t' hell. . Th' wicked devil' go in t' yer very soul. Ah hear th' call ov th' Moloch comin' after ye. D'ye hear th' fire god's a-comin' after yer miz'rable hide? D'ye hear he be a'commin' a' ye? Damn yer hide y' miz'rable tetched critter!" Jeremiah, angered by her threatening words, threw aside the chair and lifted himself from the floor. Burning anger etched his soul as he rushed towards his mother with the clenched stick of wood, but the fallen chair entangled him again.

Miz' Jezebel saw her son's horribly contorted face mixed with an angry scowl on grinning lips, and her reasoning quickly returned, causing her to tremble with fear. She gasped for breath, turned, and ran from the kitchen. Terror gripped her very being as she made her way to the dimly lit hall. Her body shook tremorously as she grabbed the hanging kerosene lamp and made her way outside of the grand house. Her search for a haven led her to the opening leading to the cellar below. Jeremiah roughly pushed aside the chair, and tried to follow her retreating footsteps, but the darkness of the passage stopped him.

Anger gripped him as he scurried back to retrieve the kitchen lamp. Holding the light aloft he searched out the corridor for signs of his mother's presence; only wavering shadows coursed through the dim light. Evil demons and spirits then filled his angry mind and directed his insane reasoning. They goaded him through the open door of the grand house, and led him by the fury of his temper. The damning creatures of hell steered his clumping feet to the wide opening to the cellar, but when he reached the top of the leading rickety steps he was struck by a tightening in his chest.

Jeremiah wheezed and coughed through the pain of his sickly lungs as he tried to catch his breath. After a few moments the breathing resumed a partial normal pace; whereas he shook his blurred head to search out his way. The grin on his scowling face grew as he saw specks of blood on the cellar stairs reflected by the glare of the smoking lamp. The evil demons and shadow spirits whirled around his head as he clumped down the creaking steps. His breath came in short bursts mixed with harsh coughing, and from his grinning mouth white spittle dribbled as he cursed in a slurred tongue.

Jeremiah, maddened by the sight of evil spirits taunting him, searched the cellar for Miz' Jezebel, his hurt and frightened mother. Through the dim light of the flickering lamp he looked about the junk strewn interior. The blood smeared handle of the door leading to the former liquor closet gave him a hint of her wherabouts. The crazed figure ran foward and tried to to force it open, but he found it sealed to the pressure of his rough hands.

Jeremiah, angered by the locked door paced the earth-packed floor; each step taken increased his mad temper. Again the evil spirits entered his mind and directed him; he placed the lamp roughly on a discarded wooden box lying near the small closed room. With a found heavy stick he pounded on the door. No intelligent words were uttered as he banged on the portal, only harsh grunting and a sickly thin laugh, "Heh, heh, heh!" Miz' Jezebel, within the safety of the closet, held her breath and refrained from answering his threat; she simply prayed to the 'Lordy' for deliverance.

The door remained secure to Jeremiah's forceful pounding, which enraged him to the very core. Ill winds blew about as the torrent of madness overflowed. The lamp flickered his menacing shadow as he rushed about frantically looking for pieces of wood and shreds of paper, which he piled against the unsubmitting door. Piece after piece of debris was thrown until half the portal was covered. The fated monsters of his mind tortured Jeremiah with taunts, and, in the fit of his uncontrolled dementia, he lifted the kerosene lamp and threw it on the heap.

Flaming kerosene spilled onto the pile of wood and paper causing a burst of hellish fire and blinding smoke. It spread swiftly to the door, the age-worn timber supports of the cellar and to the countless odds and bits of stored combustible material. The exploding flames spread rapidly eating ravenously its meal, both decaying wood and screaming flesh.

Jeremiah, fearing for his miserable life, climbed the burning stairs; the tongues of fire charred his very footsteps. As he stumbled upwards he saw by the brilliance of the blazing storm strange fearsome creatures tearing apart the stone walls trying to escape their des truction by the creeping flames; the myriad of figures screamed and whirled in terrible agony in their torment as they were consumed. But Jeremiah, by a quirk of fate, escaped the rapid tempo of the lashing inferno to the safety of the hard ground..

Jeremiah, with a grimmacing smile on his face, watched from a short distance as the flames consumed Miz' Jezebel's inheritance. He saw the burning brands explode and leap in fiery fierceness to the air. The fetid air about stank with a sulphuric stench of brimstone and fire of hellish sin. Deep down within the flames he could see in his confused senses the dance of the devil and his evil savants. Terrifying creatures, from the very depth of the nether world, crept in his fantasy of sight; they had joined the devil's dance and were coursing about in the glowing flames and the heated fetid air.

Jeremiah remained motionless as he stared deeply at the burning building and at the tableau of the horrific celebration of the fiendish Satan and his evil consorts. He was steeped in the depth of the fantasy of his imagination, and he wasn't aware of the concerned kinfolks and neighbors that neared him. They had come quickly to aid in fighting the fire, but the consuming flames swiftly ate through the decayed timbers, rendering their pitiful efforts to uselessness; they stopped their feeble attempts and simply watched the blazing inferno.

A few of the good folk noticed Jeremiah's presence and tried to question him as to what had happened, but seeing Jeremiah's contorted face, mixed with its frightening grin, left him alone.

Jeremiah remained rooted to the spot till the last burning embers sputtered and flamed; nothing could move his presence not even the entreaties of the returning friendly creatures of his mind. Deep silence ensued in the coolness of the night; the only sounds heard were the crickets' mourning notes, calling out a woeful dirge of lament.

Suddenly he saw rising from the depth of the burnt remains of the building a brilliant, glowing light. The glaring blaze of light flared in a menacing brightness as it rose and illuminated the gloomy darkness of the night.

Jeremiah stared into the depths of the blazing light as it shone above him. Then his crazed sighting witnessed the luminous form of Miz' Jezebel, his sacrificed kin, being taken in a dark winged chariot pulled by all the myriads of the nether world - monsters of the darkness, demons of hell, evil shadow spirits of the night. As he stared he saw her companion of the air-bourne flight, a calf headed bronze figure.

Slowly the mystic carrier rose to the clouded sky; as it neared him, Miz' Jezebel called out fiercely to him as she stared at him with a baleful evil eye, "Vengeance tis' mine... I'll bring ye t' th'... th' Moloch. Ye'll burn in thet' fiery pit. Yer flesh 'll burn an' yer damn bones 'll crackle. Don' ye' fear. I'll come fer ye ah promise t' th' bottom ov me soul. Don't ye fear." With the sound of a pitched hideous laugh, that shivered the very core of Jeremiah's soul, the apparition vanished.

He looked towards the empty void. Suddenly sounds burst forth through the dementia of his mind. The beat of the taut drum and the blare of the horns tatooed their rhythm. He covered his ears to stop the fear-ful sounds but to no avail. He turn and ran screaming in a terrified slurred voice, "Th' Moloch, th' Moloch be comin' after me... "

 

 

 

The Evil Eye

 

Lordy though the use of good phrases such as, 'As the

Lordy wills' or 'The Lordy bless it.' The phrases should

be uttered after words that might hint of jealous meaning."

The ones who understood told of the means to combat

the threat of the Evil Eye. They told that one should

stick his right thumb in his left hand and his left

thumb in his right hand proclaiming, "I, so and so, son

of the Lord, who the Evil Eye may not effect." This is

to avert the Evil Eye by putting it to shame.

Now, explained the deep believers, "if one has the curse

of the Evil Eye cast upon him, one should take the

neccessary precautions or a spell will be woven and ill

wind will follow the recipient. Only confrontation and

war measures are taken to deceive or defeat the Evil Eye

and to save the endangered person. The use of a mirror

or a reflecting ornament or specific clour, preferably

red or blue, may blight the source by reflecting the

evil and frightening glance. An outstreched hand may stop its rays."

There are other ways to deceive the Evil Eye said the

feared ones. They told that one should divert its stare

with interesting objects hung between the eyes of the

endangered persons; precious stones will tempt its

glare and cause it to forget its threat.

"There is little one could do if one is afflicted with

the curse of the Evil Eye; only with hope that its

curse will be limited and that it will pass quickly,"

exclaimed the frightened.

Be on guard against this destructive power, the believers cried as they called out their fearful message. "The Evil Eye is a carrier of destructive power; it brings the omen of darkness and destruction of one's body and soul. Be on guard!!"

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-seven

The Evil eye cast its spell over the settlement; the cold chills of its devilry were as felt by all the good people of the settlement. Those, that feared, understood its powers and spelled out incantations and other measures to reduce its catastrophic effects. Jeremiah Micaiah, alone, was afflicted by its baleful and menacing stare, and was re uced to agonized misery and torment. He hid from its rays by hiding in the depth of the mysterious forest but the Evil Eye was all power ful and it cast its spell over him. The shadow spirits of the woods joined in the torment, and the cursed being was haunted and driven away from the protective cover; wherever he turned there was no shelter from the tortuous rays of the Evil Eye.

The Evil Eye was there guiding the county sheriff and one of his deputies in the search of Jeremiah's guilt evidenced through the burned-out ruins of Miz' Jezebel's grand house. The Evil Eye showed them the terrible curse inflicted by the powers of evil that plagued in the depths of shame and abuse. The sight of its destructive force stunned the peace officers. The fierce fire had greedily consumed entirely the decayed wood of the dwelling and the miserable pieces of its contents; it caused its very stones to split and shatter.

The emptiness left by the conflagration enabled the officers to lower a ladder to the basement; there they stumbled about on the ashes of burned debris and on various bits of junk and broken cement chunks in their cursory examination. They puttered about until the deputy had found by chance the old kerosene lamp, almost unreconizable by the pressure of the heat. "Miz' Jezebel must ov bin rummagin' about," he reasoned as he handed the object to the sheriff. "Most likely, th' lamp could ov' been knocked over an' could ov' been th' cause ov' th' fire."

The sheriff took the battered metal in his hand, took a quick superficial look at it, "Guess ye might be right in yer figurin' out th' cause. Look about an' see if ye can find any signs ov pore Miz' Jezebel." The lawman chucked the lamp aside and carried on in his search.

The sheriff poked about till he reached the large niche, that at one time served as the spirit's closet; as he kicked aside a few pieces of partially burned wood something caught his sight. He bent down, cleared aside a few burned embers with his hand, and, to his horror, he found the burned and broken dentures of Miz' Jezebel; nearby he found a few charred remnants of bone. "Lord a-mighty!" he exclaimed. He straightened his body and called to his deputy, and told of his find. "Go fetch th' parson's wife, she'll tek care ov it," he instructed him.

The deputy, out of curiosity, took a deep look at the remains, and, only at the prodding of the sheriff, was prompted to scurry up the ladder. His found the path to the dwelling of the parson and his spouse, 'Thet Godly Woman'. A heavy knock on the door and the goodly woman answered quickly with her presence. The deputy spelled out a few kindly words of greeting, and followed with phrases that told of the finds and the need of her services.

The sheriff, in the meantime, had left the cellar of the ruins, set himself on a flat rock nearby to take in the warmth of the early spring day. He found a weed stalk to chew on, and waited patiently for the return of his deputy and 'Thet Godly Woman'. Within time a few curious folk had gathered, looked at burnt remains, had a few inquisitive words with the lawman, and when their morbid curiosity was satisfied pushed along.

The wait for the good woman was only a few minutes. Upon sighting 'Thet Godly Woman' the law-man rose from his perch, and respectably greeted the black-dressed figure. Then he proceeded in his narration of the finds of the remains. "Lawd a' mercy!" gasped the goodly woman upon the finish of the account. Then, with the help of the sheriff, the saintly creature was brought to the ruins of the grand house, and, with his assistance, carefully descended the ladder to the debris strewn cellar. The deputy followed immediately as he was carrying a small cotton filled wooden box that was brought from the parson' s home.

 

The sheriff waited till 'Thet Godly Woman' had reached the solidity of the basement floor. Then he took her hand, and lead her to the remains of Miz' Jezebel. She was silent as stood over them and tears welled in her eyes. The lawmen removed their hats as the saintly creature uttered a few prayers to the blessed Lordy in the name of Miz' Jezebel. Then with the aid of the officers she bent down near the remnants of human life; there, with their help, cleared the pieces of burned wood away from the charred human remants. With reverence, the good woman delicately placed the dentures and the human remains within the safety of cotton packed box. It was difficult work for her as the charred bones tended to crumble in her fingers, but with the patience of a saint she managed to finish the task in good order. She searched about with her eyes, pushed aside a few embers, and finding no further remains of the departed Miz' Jezebel, she sealed the box.

The funeral of Miz'Jezebel, the goodly and patient woman in the eyes of kin and neighbors, was held the following day. The folk of the hollow whispered amoungst themselves as it called attention to the son of the deceased whose presence was missing in this hour of grief. The saintly ones called it a shame and pointed a finger of guilt towards him. Those who knew of the past troubles of the Jeremiah simply shrugged their shoulder and exclaimed in a sorrowful tongue, "Th' boy's been through many ter'rible times. An' now his pore mammy gone in thet horrible fire. We r' mighty sure they thet boy is a' ailin' with grief an' sick in body an' mind t' make his way here. Jess y' don't ferget thet boy is still a bit tetched in th' head an' cain't think straight no how."

The Evil Eye did not lift its dreaded curse; its burning and vengeful force hovered menacingly as the pitiful burnt remains were brought to the final resting ground. Even the creatures of the nether world were present at the solemn rites of Miz' Jezebel when her soul entered the sacrificial pit of the fire god, the Moloch.

The funeral services were attended by Miz' Jezebel's kin folk and good neighbors who wailed and cried in the right temper over their loss. The goodly parson told of her good life on this earth; that she was a saintly and understanding mother to her crazed son Jeremiah. The cleric called upon the blessed Lordy to allow her entrance through the gates of heaven. At the final words of the sermon the cotton packed box with the brittle remains were placed into the sacred ground.

Relatives took hold of the spades and had the honour of covering the blessed memory of Miz' Jezebel. Flowers were strewn and, in tradition, the passing mourners placed a small stone on the piled earth of the grave. A few of the kin folk looked upon the burial site, shed a few tears before making their departure.

The gravesite was empty of the grieving mourners when a solitary figure approached it. Jeremiah Micaiah, with his bent head uncovered, walked humbly on shaking legs towards the eternal resting place of Miz' Jezebel, his late departed mother. In his rough hard hands he held tightly a small bunch of wildflowers that he had planned to place on the burial mound. His simple reasoning was to come to grave of his late mother in order to beseech her kind and humble soul to accept his forgiveness for the wicked act. The acceptance of his plea, to his deranged reasoning, was needed for his redemption and salvation. He had prepared an answer that repeated over and over in weak mind; it was simply an explanation that told of the terrible working of the devil that tempted him in the sin of drinking.
 

As his unsteady footsteps neared the grave the ground tore apart suddenly and Jeremiah saw an apparition of Miz' Jezebel, his unforgiving mother, as it rose from its depths. The skeletal shrouded figure pointed a boney finger at him and then shattered the moment of silence with a harsh, cackling voice; a damning and vindictive voice that called out its doom, "I'll have me revenge. Ye'll be taken t' hell fires ov th' Moloch!!"

Terrified at the sight and the sound, Jeremiah turned quickly on his his heels and ran from the spot trailed by a hideous laughter.

 

 

Chapter Thirty-eight

Jeremiah lumbering feet barely touched the ground as he quickly scurried from the gravesite of Miz' Jezebel, his revengeful mother. Terror was etched together with a sickening grin on his florid face;

His body trembled in fear and cold sweat trickled from every pore Jumbled phrases coursed his spittled mouth that was repeated over and over, "Me mammy's ah sendin' th' Moloch after me! Ah hear them a-comin'"

 

The puzzled citizens watched the crazed figure as he ran in his terror through the paths of the settlement. No one stopped Jeremiah in his madness; they just stared and wondered, "Now what ails thet pore critter?" A couple of shiftless youngsters braved the crazed sight and yelledtaunts, "Jeremiah's gone loco!" But at a slight turn by the maddened figure, the heckling tormentors showed their bravery by fleeing from him.

Jeremiah ran to an abandoned watchman's shack near the closed colliery, which served as his shelter since the fire. With trembling hands he unlatched the lock, and quickly entered the shaded room. He pushed hard on the door as he shut and bolted it as if to exclude the figments of his terror of his mind from entering. The fearful figure leaned his bulky body heavily on the

locked thin portal as an added bit of security

Then from the depth of his fantasy he heard the chanting voices and the marching feet of the worshippers to the fire god, the Moloch."Thar a' comin' t' take me t' th' Moloch!" The feared thoughts raced through his mind. Suddenly he heard heavy knocking on the door. Then a voice called out, "Jeremiah, Jeremiah", but the good preacher of the chapel received no answer. Some concerned citizens of the recent happening told the cleric by Miz' Jezebel's boy, and he came to inquire of his welfare. Since the accident, that took the life of Miz' Jezebel, the recently departed mother of Jeremiah, the preacher and his good woman considered it a solemn duty to look after the poor haunted creature.

The feared form was rooted by the call of his name as he thought it was the voice of a heathen worshipper searching for him. He breathed a moment of relief when he heard the retreating steps of the cleric. After a few minutes Jeremiah was able to move away from his rooted spot at the door. Slowly he made his way to his cot; there, by its side, was a wooden box with his meager possessions, charitable gifts from neighbors and kin. With stealth in the fear of making a sound, Jeremiah removed a small coarse sack from the box, and carefully filled it with his washing kit, a Bible, a couple of shirts, and a patched pair of trousers. He stopped in the packing for a moment and listened fearfully for any sounds at the outside of the shack. Hearing none, he quickly knotted the sack and shouldered it; then he opened the door and quickly hurried away from his miserable hovel.

Jeremiah footsteps avoided the paths leading to the settlement, as he was fearful of discovery by the minions of the fire god, the Moloch. He skirted the abandoned buildings and works of the colliery, making his way along the rail lines to the climbing wooded hills. Every time a stranger passed near, Jeremiah hid amoungst the spindly pines. Unknown noises caused him to stop in his flight; his mind was still filled the threat of being dragged to the sacrificial pit of the Moloch. Only when the threatening sounds dissappeared he continued on the path.

Shadow spirits whispered and flew about him as he searched out the safety of darkened forest. The demons in the trees and bushes tried to stop him with their barbed branches but to no avail; the spirits of the winds blew their blight but he ignored the signs. He continued and trudged along; his heavy tread cracked the thin twigs and crunched the decayed leafs as he trudged deeper through the mystery of the wood.

He reached the flowing stream that meandered through the shadow of the forest; there he paused as his laboured breath was pounding his lungs causing the gulping of the precious air. He sat on the ground near the cooling flow of the waters and rested his tired and trembling flesh. Within time his breath returned to its normal pace; then he knelt above the stream and slowly drank its refreshing ice-cold contents.

 

Then suddenly he saw a slim figure at a near distance staring at him; its hair evoked a recent memory, and flashed its threat to him. Unknown to him, the red-haired figure was only a young girl on the run, fleeing from the anger of her folks; they had punished her for soliciting her young figure for coin. From her reddish hair to the clothes on her back were signs of dishevelment showing quick flight. She was only sixteen years of age but her body told of their retribution upon her for the slavery of sex. Her once pretty face sported a blackening eye and scratches on one of her cheeks, and she was marked with black and blue marks on many parts of her body.

Through the dimming shade of the forest frightened girl spotted the blurred sight of Jeremiah Micaiah. The shadowy figure dressed in a wide brim hat and long coat, signed to the trembling girl as a member of the forces of the law. She shook in her fear of the thought of her return to her damning shack and to the fury of her parents. Without reason she fowarded her arms in the act of pleading.

But to Jeremiah's sight, only the colour of the girl's hair was noticed; the same colour of hair that crowned the head of Miz' Jezebel, his haunting mother. Deep terror welled in his demented mind as he feared that his mother had returned from the depths of hell to haunt him; and when finished in her torment, she would drag him to the Moloch and the pit of fire. The demons, the shadow spirits and the monsters of the deep outer world circled around on their cloven hooves on the leaf-strewn soil; shadow spirits winged with tattered wings flew about in the wisping air. Round and around they circled him taunting him to the madness.

As the girl stared at him, Jeremiah blotted out the sight of her youthful features, and he only saw the vicious face of Miz' Jezebel, his haunting mother calling out for revenge. The girl's raised arms were to him clawing hands of the corrupt form of his kin trying to grab and drag him to her revenge. Jeremiah shouted in a slurred tongue that she would not haunt him. Again and again he flung garbled words at the apparition of his fantasy. He dropped his sack and picked up a hefty branch and ran towards the frightened girl.

The girl saw the coming danger in her eyes, and she realized immediately that the figure was not a member of the law but that crazed creature known throughout the settlement as Jeremiah, the lunatic who talks to strange creatures. The frightened girl pulled back from his gaze and seizing an opportunity turned and tried to flee from this crazed figure.

As she ran the branches of the bushes imepededed her and a hidden root tripped her. The girl tried to escape from the approaching terror by crawling on her hands and knees. She let out a scream as he hovered over with the branch raised to strike. The first blow by the thick branch knocked her down. As the maddened figure raised the cudgel again, the frightened girl turned her body, covered her bleeding head and screamed out, "Please mister don' hit me agin'. Ah bein' a good gal, honest." But the blow struck her red scalp harder as Jeremiah heard her words as only a threat to be taken to the Moloch. Over and over the thick branch wielded by Jeremiah found its mark on the red of the girl's head until he was held back by another attack of heavy gasping of breath.

The shadow spirits of the forest were silent as Jeremiah surveyed the savagery of his blows upon the red of the girl's scalp. Blood and brain tissues flowed through the cracked skull and the sight caused satifaction to Jeremiah. He yelled out in a stuttering voice, "This 'll stop yer durn hauntin'. Take yer hide back t' th' devil. Ye'll not take me t' th' Moloch," and after repeating it again turned, retrieved his sack and fled from the scene of the bloody carnage….

 

 

Chapter Thirty-nine

Jeremiah Micaiah ran along the edge of the stream; his run along the stony banks was exhausting, causing erratic pumping of his heart muscles and wheezing of his laboured breath. He imagined demons and other evil creatures of the forest were following him, and he heard the sound of their dreadful curses on his very being. They were angry with him for the fouling of the earth, "You carry death out of your home, you bring death into the forest." They danced around him and hounded him with the imprecations of the evil eye, from evil spirits and evil tormentors. Jeremiah heard their words and cried out in terror; and he swooned in the damnation of their words.

Jeremiah awoke in the late darkness in the mystery of the deep forest. Ishata, one of the demonesses of the night, was there on his awakening causing fever of the brow and deep thirst in his parched throat. The prodding of the forked fingers of the demoness Shibetta caused him dull aching pain throughout his brain.

Without thought of the warning of the believers to be beware of the Shabriri, the demoness of the water, Jeremiah ran to the flowing stream. There he drank fully the cool waters till his thirst was quenched; then he bathed his fevered brow in the coolness of the liquid till he felt signs of the receding ache on his forehead. Before Jeremiah could fully enjoy the comfort of the refreshing water, his eyes flash the fantasy of his mind, and he saw in his deep imagination the rustling of the bushes near the stream.

"Shabriri", he exclaimed in the terror of his fantasy. He rose from the stream and removed himself as fast as he could; his eyes searched through the darkness. Then Jeremiah saw a figure formed in mist of the forest and illuminated by the rays of the full moon. Shabriri, dressed in the black of her evil spirit, appeared before him in a haunting apparition. The demoness grinned wickedly at Jeremiah; then she pointed a finger at him and began to inflict her curse, "For drinking of the waters in the fullness of the night you will feel my burden upon you." The accursed felt the prickling of his clammy skin and the flowing of the wind that tossled every hair on his scalp.

Jeremiah faced the cursing tormentor, trembling at the sight of the terrible vision and of her damning curse. He rummaged desperately through his mind, and mumbling words found their way on his thick lips. Then he cried out, "Shabriri, Riri, Iri, Ri." Shabriri screamed and writhed in the snare and promised anything to be freed. The accursed, more in fear than mercy, simply nodded; whereas the demoness lifted her damning curse. The mist dissapeared along with the threat to Jeremiah; whereas he felt momentary relief. In the wan light of the clear night he saw small black patches on the exposed skin of his hands, and in the reflection of the water he noticed strands of white mixed with the brown of his tossled hair.

Jeremiah didn't hesitate in his fear. He replaced his hat on head, shouldered his bundle, and quickly turned his heels away from the accursed spot and the possible return of Shabriri. As he trotted through the dark of the woods, shadow spirits whispered about him with the coldness of their breath, and the demons of the trees lashed at him mercilessly with their overhanging branches. There was no rest in his fears. He ran till he saw the shimmering metal of rail tracks coursing in the light of the moon.

Jeremiah, in its safety, took that needed rest to clear his asthmatic breathing; he bent foward in the pain of his lungs as the clear air entered his throat. He remained on the tracks till the choking misery cleared; then he lifted himself from the comfort of the metal and followed the line to whatever destination it held.

Suddenly through the stillness a night train blasted its siren, that signalled its approach, and Jeremiah had to stand on their nearby rocky siding as it roared by. The noise of the train engulfed him as it passed and the thrown dirt and smoke temporarily blinded his vision; as his sight cleared he saw the train motionless on the tracks in the near distance.

 

 

Chapter Forty

Jeremiah watched from the thickness of the nearby bushes as the train engine's boiler was being filled from the nearby water tower. His alert tense senses picked up the sound of the clang of metal as milk containers were taken into one of its freight cars. A few figures where in sight who could be heard chatting and laughing. Jeremiah saw one man sign a paper on clipboard and pass it to an official from the train. Then a loud whistling signal was heard. Upon the sound the overhanging rubber hose from the water tower was removed from the engine. Then with a blast from its siren, the train roared in its steam and chugged into motion.

From his hiding place Jeremiah waited until the lights of the depot were extinguished which marked its closing. He received additional notice of its emptimpness by the sound of the revving of an automobile as it warmed up before leaving to some destination. He looked towards the dark of the station; and he saw the watchman with his lantern moving about for his customary check. Jeremiah watched as the guard entered one of the depot rooms, and within a short space of time, the lamp was extinguished.

The saliva of hunger flowed in Jeremiah's mouth as he waited and watched. Time passed slowly and the pangs of hunger increased with the passing of each second. Sweat formed on his brow as he carefully left his hiding place. With stealth he moved along hidden spots consisting of a sided freight wagon, a pile of wooden boxes, and the odd bits of collected rubbish. Bobbing about he made his way to the boundary of the depot to the trash bins; the cans were partially hidden by a shaggy growth of shrubbery.

Four battered garbage cans, carelessly uncovered awaited; all filled with the offerings of rotten left-over food from the hash and bean joint that adjoined the depot. At first Jeremiah was sickened by the smells, but his craving for food overcame the stench. With a delicate movement of his right hand he managed to rummage through a recent batch of garbage, and within the mess he found some edible scraps. He filled his hat quickly with a couple of slices of dried bread, a half-eaten steak and a lucky find of shrivelled vegetables cleared from the eatery's fridge. A found handless pot was cleaned and filled with water from the nearby tap; Jeremiah used the same faucet’s water for a quick rinse of his hands and a splash on his face.

Jeremiah hurried back to his hiding place; as he placed his bulky body on the hard ground, the contents of his hat partially spilled out but he managed to hold tight to the spilling pot of water. The pangs of his desperate hunger forced him to overlook the disgusting mess in front of his eyes, and in his desperation gorged the leftovers. The salvaged water had a better taste as it was fresh but the food, despite its source, was only accepted by its need. The hefty figure tried to relax after the meal, but some inner instinct warned him to search out a better hiding place as he might be seen through the bushes during the daylight hours.

Jeremiah again left the safety of the bushes, and like a hunted animal searched out the area. The hidden friendly companions of his fantasy joined in the search; they directed him to a tottering broken caboose railed on a rusty siding some distance from the depot. The friendly shadow spirits edged him on and within time he found the narrow entrance to his new hiding spot. The inside of the car was strewn with a lot of junk and to Jeremiah's luck, a mattress was found with its straw spilling out from tears in its fabric; within was the lair of biting foul vermin.

Jeremiah cleared a corner of the car, placed bit of junk to conceal the space, and then dragged the battered mattress to it. With a found flat piece of metal he whacked it to chase away some of the many legged insects; then he placed it on the cleared floor. It didn't take long for him to find its comfort and drift into a deep sleep; in his tiredness the fears of his mind didn't disturb him that night. But the nights following were filled with the evil curse of the Moloch, forcing him to be awake at the dark of the night. Only the day, with its light, kept the demons of his fantasy away and he was able to have a bit of sleep, despite the nagging bites of the hungry insects.

Jeremiah remained at the caboose for a few days, scrounging the bins for his food and water at night and sleeping restlessly during the daylight. He filled in the remainder of the time by quietly talking to his friendly spirits. His appearance told of his plight; his clothes and body were dirty and rich in human odour, and his face was reddened by his poor attempts of shaving. He looked and acted like a vagrant constantly on the lookout for any strangers that might find his hideout. There was another fear, that he was to be found by the searching Miz' Jezebel, his vengeful mother, who will take him to the sacrificial pit of the Moloch.

The apparition of Miz Jezebel came on the seventh day near his hiding place. On that day Jeremiah heard the loud clash of cymbals banging over and over. Fear ranged throughout his body as it heralded, in the madness of his mind, the coming of minions of the fire god.

Crashing through the junk he left the safety of his hiding place to search out fearful sound. Slowly he emerged from the narrow opening of the rail car, ever so fearful of the unknown and the unseen.

He searched about with his eyes for the clashing sound of the primitive cymbals. He looked about the area of the depot and to his horror he saw the haunting figure of Miz' Jezebel, the figure of retribution, near the garbage bins; her glaring dyed red hair was the damning sign of her presence. In the fantasy of his simple mind she was seen as directing the Moloch to his hiding place with the sound of her clashing on the brass cylinders.

The red haired woman, sighted by him, was simply the scullery cleaner of the hash and bean joint; a slatterny character in the late forties. Her slovenly appearance told of her miserable drunken existence that left her hard-bitten and careless. She had started her early morning work by coming to the garbage bins to unload the trash of stale leftovers from the kitchen. The clashing noise was her attempt of removing a stubborn piece of garbage stuck to her pail, namely by banging it heavily on the trash bin. She pushed aside a lock of her dyed red hair, and with an expletive on her cigarette held lips, she gave an hefty whack of the pail on the trash bin; then she laughed hoarsely at her success of dislodging the stubborn mess.

Jeremiah only saw the red of this woman's hair, nothing more. The plaguy colour reminded him of the fiery red of Miz' Jezebel, the haunting figure of his spiteful mother. The sight brought the reminder of her dreadful curse, which told of bringing him to the fire god, the Moloch; and as the thought ranged through his mind, it caused him to shiver in fear. In his inner sense he thought of the need to drive her back to her abode in hell. Evil monsters and creatures of the nether world crept into his mind and taunted him to action. He loped quickly towards her with a slurred scream, "The Moloch, the Moloch... ye 'll not take me t' th' Moloch!" As he ran he managed to snatch a rusty piece of iron from the ground.

"Wha' th' hell?" exclaimed the surprised woman as, in her eyes, it looked like a crazed tramp that was charging at her; then her surprise increased as she saw the mean looking weapon his hand. As Jeremiah neared her she swung her pail towards his head that found its mark, momentarily stunning him. As she repeated her efforts, she let out loud hoarse screams for help. It came speedily in the form of the burly owner of cafe followed by one of his early morning patrons. The sight of the ensuing struggle quickened their pace to assist; they shouted and threatened the would-be attacker as they ran towards him.

Jeremiah heard and saw them and his only thought was the return of the worshippers to the fire god. It caused him abject terror and he was forced him to stop in the attempt to drive his so-called mother back to the nether world; then without any further hesitation he quickly turned on his heels.

He looked up and saw a bronze calf-headed figure staring....

 

 

Chapter Forty-Two

It was early morning as the freight train rumbled through the criss-cross tracks of its final destination, slowly chugging along the gleaming steel rails. It shrill siren blasted away, announcing its arrival. The freight station was reached. The train, with its air brakes screaming and hissing ground to a halt, coupled with the jolting and banging of its wagons against each other.

The braking of the wheels and the noise of the siren together with the jolting of the car startled Jeremiah to awaking from his miserable rest. He looked out through the opening and saw through the misty morning air the finality of his trip, which was the freight yard of some unknown city.

Slowly he lifted himself from the hidden corner, and with the ache of tired limbs still in his body, moved to the opening of the freight wagon. As he ambled along, he searched through his tote bag for bits of hoarded food to temper his growing hunger.

At the opening he stretched his foul smelling body, straining in the effort to stem the ache of tiredness. "Tis a good feelin' t' me aching body...", as for a few moments he performed a bit of exercise, namely the waving of his arms and the shaking of his thick legs. Then he searched with his eyes through the area of the freight yard and was puzzled as to his where a bouts. The incessant drizzle of rain did not deter him from leaving the freight train and continuing on his way from the curse of his Miz' Jezebel, the ever-vengeful figure of his mother. Seeing no one about to call attention to his presence, he slowly climbed the rungs down to the rock-filled sleepers.

Then he saw it! It was the Evil Eye, surrounded by the gore of damnation stuck to the side of one of the wheels of the freight car. It was the single eye of the powers of darkness, the all-seeing evil eye of the Satan, omnipotent and omnipresent. The evil eye of the Prince of Darkness glared menacingly as it burned deeply its destructive misery into his very soul. The feared figure trembled at the sight and within the deep imagination of his mind coursed the chant of retribution for his sin and the fantasy of the deep abode of eternal hell. His head exploded with the sounds of a primitive celebration to the sacrifice of fire. Louder and ever so louder it boomed.

The loud noise turned to a continual shouting, threatening and full of vile, "Hey there, y' durn bummer!" It startled Jeremiah to awakening and he turned his sight away from the remanant of the body he threw from the train; whereas he saw a running figure at a short distance with a menacinging truncheon waving in the air. "Git away frum thet train y' dirty tramp!" the yelling increased as a member of the yard police trotted towards him. Jeremiah didn't need any per suasion or the advice of the friendly spirits to tell of the danger.

He ran as fast as he dared as he made his way through the jumble of the intertwining tracks and switches. Finally he reached the wired fence fence at the boundry of the freight yard; a torn section provided him with an opening. He bulky body barely fit as he climbed through; a small piece of his coat on a protruding wire told of his attempt to squeeze through. Then Jeremiah coursed through the mean streets in the tiredness of his limbs and the shortness of his breath, as he still feared the yard policeman.

Jeremiah could run no more, and he searched for safety of the nearby buildings. One building looked deserted with an opening to a basement door. He ran down its stairs and found the needed shelter in front of the locked rusting iron portal. The derelict collapsed on the hard cement floor from the breathless exertion of his running. His head whirled dizzily and he fell into deep unconsiousness..

 

 

Chapter Forty-three

Jeremiah Micaiah awoke in large white room lined with a row of beds on both sides filled with white and gray covered figures. Through the bright lights he saw that he, too, was covered in a white sheet and a grayish woolen blanket. He felt around his body and found that it was clean and covered with a thin gown, opened in the back; then he felt his face and found that it was properly shaven as well as the scalp on his head. Before he was able to utter his fears, he was faced by a menacing black figure, draped in white. He tried to escape from her sight but the tightness of the sheet and weakness of his feverish body prevented it.

The dusky matron looked at him and laughingly said, "Ah see that you ar' awake sonny boy... Man you shore did stink real bad. Stunk up th' whole ward! Now take it easy. Whoa, whoa! D'y hear me, ah ain't gonna do you no harm. Now lie still. Y' ar' a mighty sick man and y' be needing lots of rest. Now, take it easy. That's a' good lil' man."

Jeremiah looked into her broad cheerful face and was somewhat assured by her gentle words which calmed his fears. Seeing that her patient was subdued by her comforting words, the matron proceeded to tell her patient of how he got to the hospital. She spoke in an offhand way, mixed with chuckling from the depth of her throat. She told how the police had found him unconcious in a doorway; then they tried to revive him but with no success. So they called for an ambulance that brought him to the emergency room at the city hospital. That's be th' whole story, frum beginin' t' end, sonny boy," she chuckled at the finish of her words.

The matron's stout body shook like jelly in the white of her uniform as she laughingly continued. "Man, y' were shore dirty an' real lousy an' messy!" she repeated as her words told how the orderlies had cut away his smelly clothing and deposed of them quickly before they contaminated the ward; all they left were his boots.

"Don't y' worry none. Y'll not leave this place naked. We'll fix y' up with some duds. Not th' best of fashion, but clean." The swarthy attendant continued by telling how the orderlies cleaned, shaved and deloused him, "Man, were you marked real bad with bites. Them nasty bugs really 'ad a feast on y'!" Her phrases told of the examination of the doctor, and his diagnosis was that the patient was on the border of pneumonia; that within the period of three or four days he should be on his feet.

"Now, I'v a real nice surprise fer you man," as the matron wheeled in a stainless-steel cart laden with two covered containers filled with welcoming food. "First you must take yer pills, sonny boy," as she handed him a few capsules. She didn't tell him that two of the pills were heavy tranquilizers reserved for indigent patients; tramps, bummers and the rest of the ilk that had caused trouble to the staff in the past.

This patient was not different in sight and was treated as a potential troublemaker. The matron knew of the fierce struggle the police had with him before his admittance to the hospital; he was delirious and terrified as he called out over and over again some strange word - Moloch.

Then the matron cranked up the bed until her patient was in a sitting position; then she wheeled the cart next to the bed, and proceeded to feed him from the hot food from the uncovered containers. Jeremiah did not need any prompting as he gulped each spoonful offered to him, finishing to the last morsel. "Well, you were real hungry, gobbled each bitty bite lickety-split," she laughingly remarked when he finished. "Now another nice lil surprise!" and she produced a plastic bedpan and she quickly loosened the sheets to place its coldness under his loins. "Now, youse be a good boy an' fill it.."

Jeremiah lived in the fog of the tranquilizers and the nightly sleeping pills that chased away the spirits and devils, both good an evil, from his mind. He simply spent the four days required stay at the hospital charity ward under the ministrations of the kindly matron, whose amusing ways consoled him in the hidden mist of his misery. His quizzical look on his face showed his concern, but the constant smirk on his florid features told a different story, one of hidden madness and fear.

His discharge came quickly. There was the doctor's cursory examination that found him fit and well enough to leave the hospital. He was dressed in carbolic smelling clothes from the slop shop, and he received the charitable gift of tolietries and a towel. Jeremiah felt the bitteress of the social worker whose lack of charity was shown cleary as Jeremiah signed the welfare document; she spoke harshly to him as she instructed him to find a place to live and to earn his daily bread.

There was one bit of charity given with a drop of love; the swarthy matron slipped him two dollars, gave him a hefty lip smacking kiss on the cheek, and wished him better days.

 

 

Chapter Forty-four

After his discharge Jeremiah found himself on the streets in front of the hospital; the late afternoon heralded the coming of the cold early spring night. But the offered clothes kept his body warm. The tightly buttoned pea jacket, with its rust stains on back of the left shoulder, was snug, and a frayed woolen cap took away the chill from his bald scalp.

He tucked the gifted bag of tolietries and a frayed towel into the depth of a jacket pocket, looked about for a moment, and then he started his tramp through passages of the strange city. Jeremiah didn't have any inclination as to his direction; he simply drifted to where his booted feet led him.

The area where the hospital stood was in an area that had saw better times; the once elegant buildings, that surrounded it, had been transformed, through the years, into dilapitated rooming houses, junk strewn workshops and sour smelling bars. A few buildings stood empty and deserted awaiting the iron ball.

Many of the residents on its mean streets were the derelicts of society constantly in search for coins that bought pleasure from a bottle of cheap wine... and the price for a vermin ridden cot in one of the nearby flop houses during the night hours.

The good citizens of city came to the area in the morning hours in the course of their jobs in the various workshops and warehouses, and in the maintenace of the hospital. At the close of the day they scurried to their clean surroundings far from the derelict place of the earning of their live-li-hood.

During the night hours the only honest ones seen were the police cruising around in their vehicles, and the medical personnel that were busy during their nightly duties. At times the stillness of the area was broken by an ambulance, with flashing red lights and shrill sirens, bringing the sick and the injured to the infirmary... or the flaring blue lamps that told of violence..

Jeremiah, whilst walking along the chain-link fences around the garage of the hospital, was accosted by a harsh voice telling him to move quickly away and not to loiter. He looked to his right and saw an uniformed man in an official looking car. The figure pointed his truncheon at him, "That's right mister... you. Jest move along... and quickly. Don' try to give me any of your lip. Don' want any trouble frum you." The hefty man from the hills didn't need any prompting and just followed the orders of the police.

Jeremiah Micaiah was confused as he tried to understand his situation; no answer came and in his simple mind accepted the bitter offerings. As he trudged along he spotted a hole in the wall cafe where he invested one of his dollars on a hot cup of coffee and a buttered roll. He relaxed on one of the cafe's delapitated stools but the owner gave him a menacing look, which told him to hurry up. Finishing, he pocketed his change and carried on tramping the streets.

As he walked along he was startled by the whining voice of a seedy vagrant, "Got a couple of bucks fer a cuppa of coffee an' eats, please mister can y' spare th' bread." Jeremiah turned and there, lighted by the dim street lamp was the haunting form of his mother, sighted the fading red of the shabby beggar's dishevelled hair. "Please mister, jist a coupla bucks, been hongry all day, jist a dollar 'll make do," was the continual whine of the unkempt woman, a non-descript derelict that the world had damned for her poverty. Her boney hand was thrust towards him. Terror mesmerized him and he backed away. The icey winds blew their cold message as he saw, not a palm of beggary but a claw coming to drag him to the fiery pit of the god of fire..

As Jeremiah backed away, shuffling for refuge in a nearby deserted alley: but the pathetic creature continued to move towards him. Her constant whining words of beggary twisted in his mind to horrific fantasy, "Yah, ya. Yahu, I have come to take you the Moloch." Within his crazed imagination, he saw evil monsters and hellish apparitions circling him with the fluttering of tattered wings, prodding him to drive away the haunting figure of Miz' Jezebel, the haunting phantom of his mother.

The ghost of Miz' Jezebel, black in the garb of hell, grew taller and taller till it hovered menacingly over him. Jeremiah was overpowered by the smell of the sulphur of the lower world that emitted from the depth of her being. The whine of her voiced turned to hideous laughter that beaded him with the sweat of damning fear. Slowly her clawing grasping talons sharpenened into pointed forks as it tried to grab to him. He tried to escape from their snare but the menacing claws came closer and closer.

He backed away till his fingers felt the rough brickworks of a nearby building. His pace quickened along the wall in order to escape the fierceful apparition of his fantasy. As he moved his foot tripped over a piece of leaning rusty pipe. The noise of its fall on the pavement momentarily startled him; but the evil creatures of his mind directed him, with their taunting words, to find the cause of the sharp metallic sound.

He reached down and after a quick search found the rusty iron; then he gripped the iron pipe with two hands. As the grasping bag lady came closer Jeremiah rose in his height and lifted the piece of metal above his head and with a fierce downward blow smashed it on her head. Again and again he beat on the streaked red of her hair with the cruel iron driving her body to the cold pavement. As the blows rained down, He screamed, "Ye 'll not take me t' th' Moloch! Ye 'll not take me t' th' thet' fire pit!"

The derelict lay spread on the ground, her crushed skull spewing out the crimson blood that mixed with the fading colour of her hair. The bulky figure just stared; his painful lungs breathing hard against his chest in the spasms of his exertion. As he continued to stare at the battered remains, his feverish mind saw visions of hell. The Prince of Darkness, with his consort of hoofed demons and screaming spirits were circling about and calling out their damnation; their accusing fingers pointed in his direction.

Jeremiah felt the cold hand of terror as he watched and heard the devil dance. Then, from above a streak of lighting flashed through the darkened sky, followed by a deep roar of thunder. His fantasized imagination raced in its madness that visualized the coming of the demi-god. Terror increased and Jeremiah, in fear for his very being, ran screaming from the terrible sight.

 

 

 

Chapter Forty-five

The sun broke through the clouds the next morning adding a bit of warmth to the cold spring day; it also brought a slight feeling of cheer and hope to the ones downcast in their lives. Even Jeremiah felt the warm rays of the sun as he rose from his nighly shelter in a deserted basement. As he slowly made his way to the uninviting streets, he conveyed this warm feeling to his unseen companions.

Then he related to them of what had happened the night before; that he had again driven Miz' Jezebel, the figure of his avenging mother back once again to the stink of hell. "Ah cain't figure it out, no how. All th' time ah beats her back real hard an' she a'come back an' back agin. 'Hit war' last night an' agin' two times th' last couple o' weeks," he rambled on this disturbing question repeatedly; a question that needed an answer for his simple mind. "Caint understan', caint figure it out!" he spluttered from drooling lips. But the figures of his fantasy were unable to tell him the words he needed to hear.

He rambled along the thoroughfares and continued to talk to the unseen ones. To a few of the passers-by, seeing a broad husky man in conversation with himself, would mark him as a nutter. But there were no jeers from them as they saw with a careful look at his florid, broad face crossed with a wicked looking grin with the drool of spittle dribbling from his thick lips; they simply stared at him for a moment, shrugged their shoulders and moved along.

Jeremiah Micaiah almost had pleasure in his meandering through the streets that day; through the clear sunny day he was able to forget the terrors of the past night. As he trudged along, the question that bothered him earlier faded from his thoughts. He even forgot the misery of sheltering in a cold basement of an abandoned building, and the taste of a stale loaf. Then with a swipe of a coat sleeve he cleared the spittle from his coarse lips as he blocked his simple mind to the events of the recent past. "T' hell wit' it," he exclaimed loud and clear to the creatures of his fantasy.

He stopped and stared at the goods displayed in the rare retail shops of that area. He pointed out interesting objects he spotted in window displays to his unseen friends who also took an interest in them. One store had a few toys and small dolls in the window and the hefty man giggled in delight as he looked from one to the other."Lookee at all them funny lil' people, an'... an' lookee at them thar silly lookin' doodads," he giggled in a rare moment of pleasure.

"Mighty fine lil' town. Very nice lil' things in them thar stores," he related to his unseen friends and they approved of what they had seen together. But it was nearly spoiled by an ambitious storekeeper who thought he had a sucker in mind. Spotting Jeremiah looking at his wares, the merchant put aside his idleness and quickly left the store and went to his side. He placed his arm around the shoulders of the hefty young man friendly-like and gently prodded him into his dusty emporium; with pleasant words he offered his so-called prospective customer the sight of his treasured stock.

The man from the hollow took delight at the many fine toys that did all sorts of movements. He was amazed at the little trucks and cars, puzzles and all the magic of the world of toys. The sight glistened before his eyes that tempted him to touch and to enjoy in the play.

But it was a different story when the owner talked of purchase and of prices. Finding out that Jeremiah was nearly penniless, the shopkeeper's act of friendliness turned sour. He tore away his goods from Jeremiah's sight and practically drove him out from his premises; only the warning sight of a strong heavily built figure caused him to move cautiously.

Jeremiah, a bit upset in his childish way, rambled once again through the mean streets; he couldn't understand the motives of the merchant - 'first calling him into the store and then throwing him out'. He slouched along with his hands deep in his pockets a bit put out by the minor affair. He was dejected in spirit and when he con tinued on his way, he fixed his eyes on the cold cemented pavement, until he nearly bumped into a group of dishevelled men at a street corner.

He looked up and saw they were surrounding a meek little man dressed like a soldier, proud and erect on a soapbox. There were other soldierly dressed figures that stood on the sidewalk beside him - a timid bespectacled elderly man, five professed guardians, and two middle-aged, care worn women, bitter in their virginity. Before Jeremiah could receive answers from his circling creatures, he heard loud words from the person on the rough pulpit. "We are soldiers of the Lord," piped the meek little man, "We have come to save you sinners from the pitfalls of Satan!!" "Hallelujah!" echoed his companions loudly.

 The soldier of the Lord told of the many sins that plagued the life of man, and with a flabby hand pounding on an open palm, he called out these moral offences. His loud chirping voice told his not-so interested audience of its retribution in the deep hell fires of the Satan's world. He spoke of the words of the 'Good Book' that will lead one on the blessed path of righteousness. And at every phrase of holiness his companions would sing out "Hallelujah". The meek little man looked out to the crowd in front of him and called out, "Who will come foward and accept the words of the Lord, who?"

Not a sound was heard from the group of the downtrodden as this was a repeated daily performance in the drudgery of their lives. Again the missionary's voice rang out and pleaded for the sinners to come foward and express their wish to repent and accept the righteous words as expressed in the Good Book. He waited and his pleading call was answered. Jeremiah moved, with the urging of his unseen companions, towards the pulpit and loudly called out that he will accept the word of the 'Lordy'. At his timely announcement, the soldiers of the Lord were relieved, as their catch for souls was limited.

The followers of the preacher surrounded the professed believer with shouts of "Hallelujah" and "Praise Be". He was asked if he truly believed in the words of the 'Good Book' and that he will follow in the true path of rightousness. Jeremiah responded affirmatively; with the slurring of his tongue he told of his deep belief, and the guardians of the word were enjoyed in their hearing of the good news.

"What be your name my good man?" piped the speaker in the glory of the day. "J.. J.. J Jeremiah, Jeremiah Micaiah be mah name," stammered the newly redeemed soul. "Jeremiah Micaiah, Jeremiah Micaiah, bless be the name," echoed the believing ones." The salvationist left his box pulpit and went to the saved pledge; despite his short stature he was able to place one of his pudgy hands on Jeremiah's shoulder. Holding tightly he shouted a hearty "Halellujah", followed by an equal response by the other soldiers of the word. "Let us give praise to the Lord for leading us this good man. We sing in His glory that we can bring this fortunate man to the righteous word," he called loudly in his chirping voice. His followers half-circled the newly found believer and in their joyous voices rang out repeatedly the pious words, "Praise be to the Lord." And they only saw in the smirk in the coarseness of Jeremiah's broad face as a beaming sign of hope in salvation.

"Come with us Jeremiah Micaiah, my son and share in the offerings of the blessed creator," exclaimed the glory seeker without giving any explanation. "Our gifts are simple to our needs but we are thankful for them." His words were full of phrase of the Lord's bounty, but only the riff-raff knew of their meaning, namely a hot noon-time meal which they offered the homeless and destitute of the area.

Without even a nod of approval Jeremiah was pulled along, followed by the other holy ones; the dishevelled ones joined in the procession as it made it way through the streets. The missionary and his faithful attendants sang songs of praise to the creator, and Jeremiah, in his simplicity, hummed along. The following crowd of slouched lost souls smirked in the sight of the singing holy ones; their only thought was of warm food. It was a fools parade filled with the trappings of the holiness of salvation and repentence, with Jeremiah as king of the hour.

A boarded store fronted premise was reached. The sign above the entrance read "Holy Light Mission" with an inscription from the Book of Proverbs, "A good man earns favour from the Lord." The missionary was first to enter and he proudly opened the door. All entered, from his followers to the new believer, to the crowd of the lost souls. As he entered, Jeremiah saw within a small chapel, something like his Sunday go-to-meeting place back in the hollow.

The soldier of the lord moved towards the small pulpit. With kind words he indicated to his few followers and his new recruit to the Word to take their seats near the simple altar. Then with a few phrases and the motion of his right hand, he directed the crowd of the drifters to the assembled folding chairs in front of his pulpit; they moved quickly as requested with considerable amount of boisterous pushing and shoving. But their sight of scorn etched on the salvationist's stern face brought a semblance of order.

The meek looking gospeller doffed his soldier's peaked cap and climbed onto the small pulpit and waited for the quiet of his congregation. Through the stillness that reigned through the chapel he scanned his congregation and, without hesitation, started the flow of righteous words. To Jeremiah, his sermon was like the ones of his good preacher back there in the settlement, except he speechified in a squeaky voice.

The soldier of the Lord called out the name of the new believer of the faith, and he was exemplified and praised for coming foward and accepting His word. And at this point his companions shouted a hearty 'Hallelujah' interjecting with the phrase 'Praise Be'. Then the good man told the congregation to rise. With their found hymnals opened to the correct page, they joined in the song of praise; their gruff voices violated the sanctity of the words.

A high-pitched 'Amen' was voiced by the missionary and the holy ones respounded equally. A short pause ensued followed by a blessing by the gospeller to the congregation. Then he told the gathered assembly, both the believers and the fallen, that they were invited to the other room, "Where we will share in the bounty and goodness of the Lord."

Then the godly man left the pulpit and quickly went to the door of an adjacent room. With a grand gesture he opened the door and ushered his followers along with Jeremiah, his honoured guest, inside. He waited a few moments, and again. Seeing that all was in order within, he faced the downtrodden and with saintly words invited them to enter and to join the messengers of the Word in the offerings of the Good Lord. There was no pause from them as they rushed eagerly towards the serving of a hot noon time meal, their only decent meal of the day.

Two soldiers of the Lord were there ready to serve the warm food to the lost souls. The unfortunates lined themselves in front of a heavily laden table, and given a large soup bowl and a spoon. They moved quietly in front of a battered aluminium vessel as hot vegetable and potato soup, with slivers of meat, was laddled from its depth into their bowls; a thick slice of bread was added as a measure of filling.

Their lips quietly passing words of thanks as they they received their portion. Then the thankful ones slowly went to large planked tables where they placed their bowls of soup, and sat on the fronted rough benches. Their hunger excluded manners and they quickly gorged themselves There were cups of tea for those who would want this refresh ment, but there were few takers; the dishevelled ones simply quickly finished the plain meal and left the dining room. A few remained to enjoy the simple comforts of the mission and the possibility of a second helping.

Jeremiah, as the honoured guest that day, did not take part in the charitable meal to the outcasts, but he was invited to join the evangelist and his followers at their table in a small alcove in a closed off section of the room. The leader of the soldiers of the Lord raised his hand before the meal to call attention to his followers. "My good friends, the Lord has blessed us and has brought us a new follower in the righteous word. His name is Jeremiah, Jeremiah aah aah.." as he searched his mind, "Micaiah, that's the saintly name. Jeremiah Micaiah, who’s beaming and radiant face expresses his love for the might of the blessed Lord." A hearty 'Amen' issued forth after his phrases.

He turned to his newly found soldier, "Jeremiah Micaiah, my son, before we start to partake in the Lord's offering I would like share my name with you. My name is Brother Amos, like the name of the prophet who told of the sins of Israel and her neighbors." The pinched face virgin was introduced as Sister Sarah and her companion in belief addressed as Sister Rachel. There were brothers of the Lord called Abraham, a Joel, an Ezra, a plain young girl addressed as Sister Esther, and three others that were acquainted with names from the Bible. After the introduction Brother Amos and his followers, with Jeremiah imitating, lifted their hands in benediction and blessed their coming meal. It was not like the offered food of charity as it consisted of clear soup, platters of meat, potatoes and vegetables, followed by a pudding, properly laid out on the simple table.

The soldiers of the Lord fowarded questions to the newly found believer during the course of the meal. He answered them in the best of his slurring voice, mixed with hesitant stutters, as he tried to phrase the right words. They were overjoyed by the expression of his past belief, of his honest toil in the colliery; they sympathized with him as he told of the tragedy of the closing of the pits and the accompanying misery of unemployment.

But his words ommitted his mother's fiery acceptance to the altar of the Moloch; his phrases also ommitted his deep fears and terrors of the minions of the deep abode of hell for his part in this terrible episode. Nor was the mention of his flight from the vengeance of Miz' Lizzie, the feared form of his sacrificed kin, that haunted him continuously with her presence. His lips were sealed as to his vicious attempts to drive the spirit of his mother back to the foul lair of the devil.

He ignored the friends of his fantasy who were peeved for his inattention as they circulated above his head. Jeremiah, in simple words, only mentioned the need of place to rest and of a job to earn his daily bread.

Brother Amos, eyes beamed through his thick iron-rimmed spectacles at the words of the righteous man. His words, through thin lips, told Jeremiah that his search was over; the building where the mission was situated was shared by other tenants, mainly owners of small work shops, and they are in in need of new janitor as the last one left two days ago. The puckish face of missionary did not reveal that the last cleaner was a drunk who simply walked away from his job never to return; nor did he mention that the work was simple drudgery with low wages, and that it was hard to find another replacement. "Trust in the good Lord and He will find the way," beamed the evangelist.

 

 

 

Chapter Forty-six

Jeremiah became one of the soldiers of the Lord for the Holy Light Mission, and he joined the missionaries in their search for lost souls amoungst the debris of the forgotten ones in the foul district of the city. The good people of the order had found for him a uniform; it was a bit skimpy on the cuffs, but one of the pious women worked at her best with needle and thread to make it look proper-like. The naive man from the hollow was proud of the cloth despite it being tight around the waist and short around the ankles. He was equally proud of his barely fitting peaked cap with its shining brass medal insignia of the Lord's station that barely covered his thick head. He swelled in his simple pride as he walked together with the other followers of the Good Word. And when the believers were deep in their holiness, Jeremiah would show his clothes of honour to the creatures of his fantasy and they circled about him in joyous approval.

Brother Amos became a fast and somewhat true friend to this hulking stranger; the good man saw only a beaming angelic face of a new and trusty soldier to his order. Jeremiah was a strong force in the work of the mission as his presence on the mean streets offered protection from the hecklers and even from those who in rare moments pelted them with rotten fruit. The sight of the uniformed hefty figure with the devilish grin on his frowning face was enough to quiet their jeers and lessen their missiles. He didn't use force; only the sight of his threatening figure was sufficient.

Jeremiah was given temporary quarters at the mission, namely a found mattress placed in the storeroom, and he was allowed the use of the kitchen to prepare some food for his breakfast and supper. Sister Esther, in her plainess, took kindly to him and with a slight loving hand saw to his neccessary provisions. The hulking creature was grateful in his simple way to the kindness shown, both by Sister Esther and the rest of the missionaries. He showed his thanks by his presence on the streets and in the late afternoon by doing the menial task of cleaning the premises. For Jeremiah the mission and its holiness offered his needed protection against evil spirits and threatening demons. To his simple thought, the walls of the mission was a strong bastion against the coming of Miz' Jezebel with her threats of the sacrificial fire of the Moloch. At the dark of night Jeremiah rested quietly; his reasoning assured him of the protection of the thick walls of the religious station that prevented the threatening nightmares which had plagued him in the past

Brother Amos approved of his good work and repaid his new missionary in kind. True to his word, he arranged that Jeremiah would serve as janitor in the building, but only in the afternoon hours as his services was required for the morning work of the Holy Light Mission. The building owner had to agree as trash was piling up in various corners and a new man couldn't be found, not for the pittance given as wages. As an added measure, Brother Amos and his followers cleaned out the past cleaner's tiny room in the basement of the building as a place of shelter for their new convert.

Jeremiah did not welcome the transfer to his new quarters as he was forced to leave the fortress that held back the terrors of the night. Brother Amos didn't question him for the reasons of his suspicions; he only thought that poor young man had fears of leaving the community of Lord. The goodly soul, with soothing words, comforted Jeremiah by stating that he was still under the canopy of the Lord.

The salvationist lessened his fears by stating that the new quarters were a righful part of the mission, which brought a bit of relief to his mind. The preacher who wished him a hearty good luck for the coming future then blessed the new soldier of the Lord.

Jeremiah's daily routine was same from day to day. In the morning hours he proudly trooped the streets in search of lost souls with the Holy Light missionaries; at the hour of twelve joined with them in prayer and in the partaking of their repast. Afterwards he would change into gifted work clothes and tend to his duties as janitor of the building. The work was hard but his sinewy muscles, hardened from from the misery of his flight, helped to lighten the load. The job was mainly collecting the mounds of trash from the various workshops, hauling the mess to the basement; there in the center was a huge ancient incinerator for burning the collected rubbish. Up and down the dimly lit stairs Jeremiah would climb for hours in the sweat of his work as each load was brought down and burnt.

His tiring work ended in the growing darkeness of the early evening, and his aching legs had sufficient strength to trudge to his room in the basement. A quick wash with a half bar of laundry soap on the naked upper part of his body and on his coarse features of his face refreshed him, and he was able to relax. After drying himself on a threadbare towel he dressed himself on a freshly laundered shirt, the blessing of the hands of one of the women of the mission.

Jeremiah had an added enjoyment after the toil of the day. In the evening he had the pleasure of the gifts of Sister Esther, namely a tray with a plate of sandwiches and a cool glass of milk left near the door of his room. Jeremiah delighted in her presence through the fading whiff of her rose water that she had sprinkled sparsely on her spinsterish body. Sometimes he knew of the good will of Brother Amos when he had found a quantity of religious tracts alongside the plate of food. But tiredness slowly increased in his body. The pleasure of the unseen company of Sister Esther and Brother Amos lasted only through the partaking of his plain meal and a quick look at the pictures in the pamphlets.

The hour was late and there was a thought of rest, which he hoped, will be spared the plagues of fearful dreams. He left his room for a moment and went to an electric box centered in the basement; there, as instructed, he pulled the handle of the main switch that plunged the corridors of the building into darkness except for the weak light in his room.

Jeremiah closed the door securely to his tiny room as he entered as a measure against the threatening fears he fantasized that roamed through the mists of the night air. There was also his known fear of the Moloch and the fiery pit of sacrifice that ran through the deep imagination of his fantasized mind. He knew he had a curse caused by his sin against Miz' Jezebel, his vengeful mother; a curse that had momentarily faded away whilst he was safeguarded in the walls of the faith at the mission. Now again he was separated from any protection that held back the evil spell.

He paused for a few seconds in his cramped quarters before reaching for the chord to the light switch as if he was expecting a appearance of the shadowy spirits of the night. Then he yanked it plunging his chambers into darkness; the rays of the waning winter moon feebly threw its light through a small barred window. Quickly, with a swift kick of his feet he threw off his unlaced boots, and a tug to open the belt of tight trousers, Jeremiah fell onto his straw-filled mattress into a tired sleep.

The feared nightmares did return to disturb his sleep. Over and over he turned on the rusty screaming bed trying to shake off the figures and terrible scenes of his troubled mind. The vivid nightly terror pictured his job as being in the depths of hell with the cursing of his taskmasters being the minions of the devil. In the depth of his nightmares he saw them as stinking creatures with diabolic features; their cloven hooves clattering around him as they prodded him with their sharp spears. The taskmasters of the devil, with cruelty on their lips, belaboured him with their words. "Do this!""Do that!" "Hurry up!" Their cursed commands echoed vibrating him to sweating wakefullness in the early hours of the morning.

As time passed Jeremiah's nightly terrors increased in its imagination and he saw that the devil's apprentices had leashed upon him flying demons and evil shadow spirits that taunted him to work harder and faster. The lashed at him with barbed whips as he carried the loads that fed the stinking sulphuric fires of the nether world.

Then, within the depth of his fearsome dreams, another terrible scene unfolded in all its horor. He heard the shout, "Yah, Yah, Yahu, El El Moloch." The chant of the frentic worshippers increased in its tempo in the feverish belief to fire god as them came closer to him.

New sounds entered the delusion of his terrible nightmares: Within his disturbing sleep he heard the primitive cadence of a skin-taut drum beating to the rhythm of the marching believers to the idol of sacrifice. The estactic worshippers that came closer and closer to him...

One fateful night, the reality of the vision of the fearful nighmares shook him to awakening in the darkened room; the weak beams of the waning moon added to cold creeping terror in his trembling body. Jeremiah quickly found the string to the hanging lamp and with a hard tug he brought the light that chased away the demons of the night. His body was wet with prespiration brought about by the vivid scenes of his dreadful dreaming.

Jeremiah found that continued sleep was impossible. He got out of his damp bed and walked about the tiny room trying to clear away the fears. He picked up the religious tracts and scanned their pages for salvation but the weak light hurt his eyes when he tried to make out the words.

With the fear of the returning nightmares of his sleep, Jeremiah decided in the spur of the moment to seek the relief of the cool night air. "Maybe them thar critters 'll git away frum me sleep if ah walks about. Sure 'll giv' a help, " he thought as he hurriedly dressed himself. Bundling himself in the warmth of his heavy pea jacket and the covering of his wide-peaked cap, the burly figure left his room.

The weak light beaming from his room afforded him the needed beacon for passage through the basement. Jeremiah slowly climbed the stairs marking each step carefully. Whispering cold winds directed his way through the dark lobby to the exit of the building.

The coolness of the night air filled his body with relief as he made his way along the deserted streets. Suddenly he heard in the distance the pealing of the hour from a distant cathedral. Slowly the resonance counted out the toll of eleven; the surprising count told him of a miserable sleep of only three hours. Then the sound faded reopening the curtain of silence of the city. Darkness was all about with only the dim street lamps casting a glowing mark on the deserted streets.

Jeremiah's footsteps led him to a different part of the vast metropolis but in his eyes, a strange place. The area was lit with busy bars filled with the inebriation of their customers; the noise of their drunken gaity, that emmitted from the various taverns, filled the streets with their raucous noise. The man was from the hollow was startled by sight of the eight bars, counted in his figuring. As he looked around the taverns he saw that the streets were lined with women of the night soliciting their bodies to prospective clients in waiting automobiles.

He watched under the shadow of the building at the continual mark of sin that coursed its way along the street. Jeremiah stared for a long time into the area of inequity until he heard the pealing of twelve strokes. His facination of the scene in front of his sight filled his thoughts that he failed to see a figure coming towards him. Only her words startled him to attention. Words that came from tired drunken lips, "Hey there mister, did y' want a good time?"

There in the dimness of a flickering street lamp Jeremiah saw the fearful apparition, the sight of the prostitute's blowzy rust-coloured hair. Fear coursed through his crazed mind to deep horror; the phantom form of Miz' Jezebel, the haunting figure of his mother, had returned to exact her vengance. The blinking of the coloured tavern lights turned into flashes of lightning that brought the sight of the cave of the idol of fire. He was filled with awesome terror. The fearsome monsters from the depths of hell coursed about his crazed mind taunting him with menacing threats of damnation.

His mind was filled with dread as the sighted haunting ghost came near him; with a lurch of a mis-step, the encircling arms closed upon him. With desperation he tried to remove them as his fears increased in the thought of being dragged by her to the fires of the Moloch. Harder and harder the arm tightened around his waist. His grip on the protitute's roughly shaven arms felt to him like the boney grip of the flaking flesh of his haunting mother. The perfume of the aging tart choked him as he struggled; it was like the stench of the burning fires of hell that clung to the black of his mother's tattered dress.

The drunken words of entreaty was only heard as a reminder of Miz’ Jezebel's terrifying call of retribution upon his unquiet soul, "Yah'll be taken t' th' hell fires of th' Moloch. I'll see y' burn!!!"

Jeremiah felt the boney claws of Miz' Jezebel searching for opening in his trousers and he tried to draw back into the hiding shadow; a fearsome dread coursed through his mind when he felt their sharp points. Then with all the strength of his body he twisted the arm of the figure until the prostitute cried out in pain, but her cry was covered by the raucous noises of the street. In the madness of his mind the crazed figure turned the inebriated streetwalker around; with angry fury he grabbed the vision of Miz' Jezebel by the damnation of her near redddish hair and dashed her head against the hard bricks of a nearby building. He repeated the beating of the head with curses from his slurred tongue, "Y' ll not take me t' th' Moloch. Damn y'" Over and over went the pounding until his stained hands held a red haired mass of gore and blood.

Jeremiah allowed the loathsome sight of the avenging ghost to fall onto the sinning street; the warm blood of her fouled body flowing in the stinking dirt of damnation....

 

 

 

Chapter Forty-seven

The matronly policewoman carefully held the arm of small middle aged woman bent in sorrow, as they walked slowly through the dimly corridors of the county morgue. Eight times in the past months, she or her sister officers had to escort a kin folk to identify the beaten body of a defenseless victim in a surge of crime labelled by the press, 'Red Hair Serial Murders'. The crimes of murder defied all logic of its motives, and in the efforts of the police to find a solution.

The policewoman's flecked eyes stared coldly at the pathetic creature; her grim facial features showed no signs of feeling for the tear-streaked woman as she walked in this tragic mission. The officer of the law knew the drill, which was simply to escort the next of kin to the sight of the body for the purpose of identification; a job done repeatedly that almost hardened her feelings. As they neared the lighted examining room of the morgue, she felt tightened boney fingers clenching the crook of her uniformed elbow.

The two paused, apart, at a large window that fronted the cold glaring mortuary and waited for the attention of the attendant that would allow their entrance. While they waited the tear filled eyes of the sorrowing woman search out the large well lit room; her eyes spotted a covered figure on a cold stainless steel gurney, and her thin body shivered involuntarily under the warmth of her winter clothing. As she stared she heard the words of the policewoman telling her of the routine of examination of the body, mixed with a word or two of comfort.

The pitiful creature was shook out of her sorrowful reverie upon the sound of a loud buzzer. Her glance through the window sighted the young attendant signalling. With the right arm of the policewoman around her shoulders, she was led through the heavy door to the examining room. The footfalls of the pitiful woman were leaden as she followed the attendant to the covered figure on the gurney.

The woman waited as the orderly slowly uncovered the top half of the sheet reavealing the cold hard lines of the features of a middle-aged women frozen in the veil of death; the top of her red-haired skull was thankfully covered to the hide the savagery of a severe beating. The kin looked with shock at the corpse's lined face, frozen in the horror of the attack. The poor woman nodded her recognition. Then she stared for a minute longer before the attendant mercifully recovered the remains.

Then the pitiful creature hugged the police matron, placing her head on the ample bosom, and let loose a flood of welcome tears that opened the grief of her soul. Through sobbing lips she poured out words that spoke of her deep agony;

"Aiyeeee, tis' me sister Mary. Oh Jesus in heaven tis' her. May the Lord have mercy on her blessed soul! Sixty she'll be this coming Friday."

"Who be the evil person that did this to me poor sister? Who? Tis' be a wicked an' cruel devil that can do such a terrible thing. Tis' curses, tis' curses filled with me hate that I call upon the murderous swine. Curses! be upon that devil! May he be carried to the foul depth of purgatory!"

"Me dear sister... Tis' a shame... She's being a widow for the past few years. Lost her good man in an auto accident, bless his kind soul. Me sister Mary was not blessed with children and had no one to look after her, poor dear. Been living with me after his death. Took good care of her, that I did. She being no bother to me or to my family, always helping about the house." "Beautiful and saintly she was... Look! Look at her now.. She be now frozen in her agony...My poor darling sister's face... Be, till the end of me time, I wil never forget that horrible look on it... Cold, she be, cold as ice!"

"Always a good word to everyone. Her face was joy to behold. Ever so full of happiness. My children really liked their Aunt Mary. And so did the entire family… That we did.... Even to our neighbors, me good sister spoke kindly to... And they had a liking to her as they be asking her over to their homes..."

"But, only yesterday. Tis' was late in the afternoon … Said that she was a bit naughty. That was her words… Do remember them... She told me with her blessed voice… .

Hush like she be talking.. She whispered that she had tinted up her hair.. Looked at hair, that I did... It be a bit different... Had a light reddish-brown glow... No gray hairs showing... Naughty I scolded her... I said 'what will the good Father say at the Mass?'

Tis' was a jest and we had a good laugh." "Always busy she was with the holy work of the church helping the poor and the aged... Always with a kind word and a smile as she offered them the blessed charity. 'Good and kindly woman' were the blessed words of the father of our church as he told of her saintly work..."

"The midnight mass held last night at the church was in honour or our saint... Bless her in the name of Our Son. My poor sister had gone to with faith in her soul.. Never to come back! Never again will I ever see her in all her grace..."

 

 

 

Chapter Forty-eight

 

Sister Esther pinched her waney cheeks till they had a reddish glow as she preened herself before preparing the offering of the nightly sandwiches and milk to Brother Jeremiah. The inviting evening spelled a charm in the coolness of the flowing air that brought pleasure to

her soul. The dedicated woman felt a slight romantic touch within the plainess of her underfiled spinsterly life; the light enchantment caused slight fluttering in the beating of her heart.

She had clothed her thin little body in a simple grey woolen dress; the garment was her best, correct and a bit stylish with a high neck collar, ending with an adorned hem that nearly covered the veined flesh of her ankles. And as an added bit of of beauty to her plain femininity she banded a bright rose coloured kerchief, her favourite, on her mousey brown hair, leaving a few shining locks hanging loose on her white forehead.

The hour was eight in the evening; she had noted the time from the soft pealing of the pendulum clock as she flitted about the office of the Holy Light mission. The chiming of the hour reminded her of the time when Brother Jeremiah would be finished in his daily toil.

Quickly she put on her sweater and scampered to the kitchen. The pinchpenny lighting was switched on and under its dimness Sister Esther prepared the good man's evening repast. She arranged the food on the tray along with the gift of religious tracts from Brother Amos.

Sister Esther's heart beat slightly in the mood of her simple thought of romanticsm; a thought enhanced by that extra touch of rose water to her scrawny neck and on her plain facial features. She was a bit light headed as her wispy body moved daintily through the passages of the building and down the few stairs to the basement. A tiny stream of light beamed from under the door of Brother Jeremiah's room; its sight increased the thumping of the excited woman's heart.

Jeremiah, engulfed in tiredness, just sat on his cot in the dirt of his work clothes; his peaked cap, tilted slightly on the back of his head, uncovered the sweat of his labours. The heated swirl of numbing fatigue almost gripped him in drowsiness when suddenly he heard a tapping on the door. He froze as the sound repeated in the beat 'tap, tap, tap'. Panic gripped him as the tempo petrified his tired mind that preyed on his deep-rooted fears. The sound at the door increased in its rhythm 'tap, tap, tap,'. In his feared imagination he heard it as the beating of a taut drum signalling the coming of the terrible fire god, the Moloch. 'Tap, tap, tap' the sound of the beat increased.

Then he heard a soft voice calling out, "Brother Jeremiah, Brother Jeremiah.." He froze, rooted in the dread of the beckoning sound. The cold fingers of fear coursed his body. "M, M, Miz' Jezebel," he stuttered loudly. Terror swelled and gripped him. He leaped from his bed and dashed to open the door in an effort of flight, but in the opened portal was that damned sight. The deep rose colour of the kerchief, covering the hair of Sister Esther, was signed in his dementia as the red hair of his ghostly mother that had come from the depths of hell with the scent of revenge. Jeremiah terrors increased with each passing moment as he stared fiercely into the eyes of the phantom of his mind.

Sister Esther was horror-struck as Jeremiah lurched towards her. Her terror increased at the sight of Jeremiah's wide feverish eyes, veiled in evil, and in the sight of his spittle smeared mouth that smirked in an hideous grin. Sister Esther's body trembled in fright and she felt the skeletal hand of Father Death. She called out in a silent scream as the bulky man hovered over her. The poor creature shivered in icy fear, her blood ran cold, as Jeremiah screamed with loud stuttering words, "Moloch, Moloch, ye b,b,be... not t,t, takin' me t' th' Moloch." She backed away slowly from the rage of the demented man, unable to understand the transformation of Brother Jeremiah.

Slowly Sister Esther backed away from him, dropping the tray of food from the weakness of her hands. A slip on the uneveness of the cement floor caused her to fall against the yawning opening of the dampened incinerator. Her eyes widened in panic as she felt the hard hands of Jeremiah pushing her within, imprisoning her with the slam of its steel door. A hidden spark caught the wool of her cloth and the flowing draft flared it into flames. The silence of her voice turned to screams of agony as the flames tormented her flesh.

Jeremiah just stared once at the glowing red of the furnace before he ran from its sight, yelling in a hoarse slurred voice, "M, M, Miz' Jezebel is g ,g ,gone back. Ah, ah had p, p, pushed her b, b, back t' th' fires ov hell." Evil drifted in the cold winds as the grinning Devil, along with his horde of avenging demons and damnable spirits of the night, watched and waited.

Then, without looking back, Jeremiah scrambled up the stairs, now illuminated by the fiery glow of the incinerator. "Miz' J,J, Jezebel's she's a'gone t' h, h, hell," he continued in his stuttered shouting from his smirking lips; his frenzied eyes glaring in the triumph of the act.

Jeremiah didn't feel the cold of the winter night on his coatless body as he ran through the passages of the city in the jubilation of his dementia, "Miz' J, J, Jezebel is a'gone," he shouted over and over again." The few drifters and drunks, that he passed, paid no heed to the crazed figure; the scene, to them, was just another repeated madness in this forgotten zone of the city. Jeremiah's heart raced forcing his breath to choke in the misery of his diseased lungs, and he was compelled to stop and rest from its torture.

Jermiah's breathing came in puffs of agony forcing him to bend in its pain. As the suffering of his body decreased he lifted his head, opened his mouth, and swallowed gulps of freshening air. He repeated these efforts till he felt the comforting breath return to its normal pulse. Then, suddenly, as he turned his head slighty, he saw again in the near distance the damnation of that colour flaring again at him.

A slovenly woman, disheveled in her poverty, was fondling an orange striped tabby cat; she allowed the animal to hug one of her shoulders and rub its body on the scruffiness of her time worn fur hat. The animal in its ecstacy had pushed back the hat revealing her stringy greyish red mussed hair. "Thas a' nice li' pussy cat," uttered the pathetic creature, and the feline purred his answer. Jeremiah watched and in his madness only saw the return of Miz' Jezebel, the phantom form of his vengeful mother. His crazed thoughts were mixed and puzzled as only a few moments ago he had forced her back to the depths of the fires of the nether word.

Evil demons, shadow spirits flew about on tattered wing in the fantasy of his mind; creatures of hell in the macabre of their evilness danced about him on their cloven hooves. From their foul grinning mouths they prodded him with their vile and terrible thoughts that increased the madness in his mind. It rumbled in increasing fury at every passing moment.

Then, with an erruption of reckless insanity, Jeremiah ran towards the damnation of the red; as he ran, he picked a large rock, which he lifted aloft. He screamed slurred threats as he threw the missile; anger erupted as the rock missed its target. The startled woman saw the charging figure and the threats of worded violence; without further thought she lifted her tattered dress and tried to scamper away from the coming danger. The cat had jumped from her shoulder; it leaped onto the sidewalk, hunched its orange striped back, and hissed out her defense.

As the crazed figure ran towards the figure of his damnation, the stones of the pavment suddenly yawned opened with a roar and blocked his way. Jeremiah ceased in his maddening run and just stared in horror at the opening. The ground trembled and groaned as the cavity widened. Within its depth yellowish smoke belched in thick clouds that choked him with the stinking sulphuric breath of hell.

From the yawning cavity rose a massive calf-headed bronze figure; the swirling flames of his pit of sacrifice surrounded his gleaming body. The idol of fire and of the winds of storm bowed it enormous head and stared with glaring eyes at the terrified figure; it called out in a severe and terrible voice to Jeremiah:

 

The beat of a skin-taut drum was heard tapping out the rhythm of the beginning of the ceremonial offer of sacrifice. The raucous blare of primitive horns called forth the worshippers to presence of the terrible god who demanded the burnt offering of the sacrificial lamb.

The tramping of the feet and the ecstatic calling of the faithful could be heard as they made their way to the altar. Some of the frenzy worshippers ran towards Jeremiah and they snared him in a tight grip; their cruel rough hands beat his tortured flesh mercilessly. As the terrified figure was dragged towards the sacrificial fire by the faithful, the stenchy smoke more and more constricted his throat and his lungs choked for the life-giving clear air.

Jeremiah Micaiah felt cold unseen cruel hands clawing his tortured flesh; his fear-draped eyes saw the vengeful form of Miz' Jezebel, his hellish mother, haloed in a rubric glow. There was a frightening gleam of devilry in her glowing eyes and a cackling hideous laugh running from her lips. Quickly Miz' Jezebel enveloped him and dragged his unwilling body to the waiting bronze arms of the Moloch, the god of fire.

Tambourines, flutes and horns blared in their raucous rhythm as the head priest called upon the great god Moloch to accept this ceremonial lamb as a sin offering. The cadence of the primitive drum beat in its damning tempo when Jeremiah Micaiah was rolled into the burning depths of the sacrificial pit; his voice screaming out his agony.

 

 

FINIS

The tabloids blared out in screaming words; gruesome front-page headlines headed another bloody chapter of the 'Red Hair Serial Murders'. They wrote in bold letters of the discovery of a bludgeoned body of a woman in the late forties in a trash filled alley; the bloated corpse was identified as a woman reported missing for the past few days. Underneath the eye-catching caption, detailed photos pictured the scene at various angles and one of a covered body complete with a dried stream of blood. Exciting words in smaller print followed with frightening details telling of the terrible carnage on her red-haired skull. The copy told of how the corrupt body was hidden by the filth and garbage of the narrow lane, and only discovered accidently by a homeless tramp seeking shelter.

See page two for further details...

Written in the middle page of one of the newspapers, above an advertisement for an auto-credit agency, was a small item telling of a strange incident near the city hospital. It told of a near attack on a bag lady by a crazed man the past evening. The article stated that cruising police officers had found her on the ground in a state of shock and hysteria. When questioned, the demented creature screamed out the events of an attack upon her by a frenzied madman; she told of how a tall burly man chased her down the street, and wanted to inflict bodily harm on her person. Three other sisters of misery who corroborated her story attended her.

The miserable creature told the police that during the attempted assault the madman kept shouting a funny word over and over again. She thought it sounded like the word 'Moloch' or 'Melek' but she wasn't certain due to fear and shock of the threatened attack. The woman also related to the police of an unbelievable and strange story that happened during the attack: Before the lunatic was able to inflict injury upon her, he suddenly burst into flames. The woman was emphatic in her words as she repeatedly told her garbled story to the patient and understanding officers of the law.

The newspaper, quoting the police, reported that the bag lady was well known to authorities as she was forever seeing strange illusions; within the past month she came twice to the police station and reported the sighting of little green spacemen....

The article continued with a general statement that the woman was taken to the city hospital where her injuries were found to be superficial. She was released after receiving medical treatment. That the authorities had investigated the woman's complaint; police officers had searched the area and near the scene of the alledged attack they found charred remnants of clothing and shoes mixed in a small pool of greasy animal-like fat... - alongside was a burnt metal badge of the Holy Light Mission.

Investigation is continuing…And ended with a simple finality:..."The identity of the attacker is unknown...."