My Boyfriend is a Monster (38 page)

“How about that coffee sweetheart,” Andy called out.

“Yeah, c
ome have a seat with us,” Bobby suggested.

“I’ll be right back with another tea,” she said realizing she was
not in a different diner at all. Walking to the counter she saw that the new coffee pot was unfortunately ready. Grabbing it she walked over to the table. Even their smiles sent out wrongful intent vibes as they didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were looking her over like a piece of meat. At least the older men in town had the common courtesy to just take small glances or look at her when they thought she wasn’t looking. There was flattery and then there was offensive.

“What took you so long sexy?” the chubby one with less hair named Andy asked.

“Other customers,” she said pouring coffee into his mug.

“The cloth back there?” the thinner one with less hair asked glancing behind him. “Yeah, he won’t tip you like we will,” he said giving her a wink then looking down at her skirt.

“I can give you more than the tip,” Andy said laughing. “What tip do you want honey?” he asked caressing his hand past her skirt and wagging his tongue for her to see.

Moving away from him she tried not to spill any as she attempted to finish
pouring the second cup.

“I bet she tastes great,” Andy said not taking his eyes off her.

“Please, please,” Bobby said holding up his hand beside his own cheek and shaking it. “Let’s see how she tastes once I’ve been in her.”

“That’s a real dick move,” Andy said taking a sip if his coffee. “I’ll still taste her
though,” he declared turning to Amber and giving her a wink.

“Why wouldn’t ya?” Bobby said laughing at him.

“Look guys, I don’t-”

“Miss,” the Preacher called out.

Amber looked back at him and just stared.

“The tea please,” he said smiling.

She shook her head a little distressed. Walking back to the counter she put the coffee back on the burner. Pulling herself together she got the hot water and a new tea bag. She walked over to the farthest booth and poured the hot water into cup as it trembled a little.

“Are those gentlemen bothering you my dear?” he asked reaching out and taking the tea bag.

“Just a couple of creeps,” she said setting the pot of water on the table and taking a break. “It doesn’t happen often but when it does it’s always late at night when I’m alone of course.”

“The cook doesn’t say anything?”

“Sometimes, if he’s not too busy getting high,” Amber said rubbing her face trying to calm down.

He tilted to his side looking around her. “They don
’t seem to be local.”

“No, never seen them bef
ore,” she affirmed then started to feel better. She looked at him curiously. “Never seen you around before neither,” she said hoping she did not come across as rude.

“No, you have not,” he said immediately then looked at her adorningly. “Been a while since I’ve passed through Yazoo City,” he said sparking more interest.

“So you have been here before,” she surmised.

“Oh yes, a few times through my many, many years,” the Preacher confessed recalling in his mind.

“You’re not that old,” Amber said trying to make him feel better.

“You are sweet, but I am,” he said pouring sugar in his tea. “I recall when it was Hannan’s Bluff and then Manchester,” he said while he stirred his cup.

“I remember learning about that,” Amber said deciding to take a seat.

“Oh yes, I recall the first time the Yellow Jack came to town,” he said and took a sip of his tea.

“Yellow Jack?” Amber repeated with genuine curiosity.

“Yellow fever,” he said taking another sip and seeing she was still unsure what he was talking about. He continued to explain. “A nasty little virus carried by female mosquitoes, most likely originating from Africa.”

“How did it come to Yazoo?”

“Slave trades my dear,” the Preacher said putting his cup down and leaning
forward causing her to lean inward as well. “Some say it was a punishment from God, for slavery,” he said leaning back.

“Do you believe that?” she asked still leaning forward.

He just looked at her and tilted his head with a smile letting her look at what he was wearing.

“Right,” she said feeling a bit dumb.

“I also remember when the Confederates lost New Orleans to the Union and the Confederates made Yazoo their new ship yard. And when the Union soldiers marched on Yazoo and took it, destroying that one as well,” he said shaking his head.

Amber now sat intrigued with her arms folded on the table. “I remember learning about that too, but the Confederates took back Yazoo.”

“That’s right,” he said pouring more hot water into his cup since the pot was already there. “But a year later the Union returned.”

“And almost burnt the entire town to the ground,” she said proud of herself, then she looked like she was trying to remember what it was called. “That wasn’t the Witching Fire,” she said pretty sure it was
not.

“No,” the Preacher said smiling. “But I remember that as well, it was 1904 and as local legend has it
, that the fire was caused by an avenging witch.”

“The Witch,” Amber said recalling the stories she was told as a child. “We were told not to go into the swamp area to the north of town at night because that’s where the witch lived on the bank of the river.” Then she also remembered. “Or not to lie to your parents or they’ll put you in a sack and leave at the end of the driveway for the Witch to take back to her home and skin you alive.”

“Terrible the stories parents will sometimes tell to try and get the young to obey.”

“I just remember the swamp scarring the shit out of me,” she said suddenly covering her mouth realizing she just swore in front of a man of the cloth.

The Preacher just laughed and smiled. “It’s quite okay my dear.” Then he continued. “As I recall the Witch did live on the bank of the river, an appalling thing who took great satisfaction in knowing the people feared her, and the children were terrified of her.”

Amber looked at him and for a moment thought he was actually recalling the story as if actually being there, then shook it off as being silly.

H
e continued. “She was very open about her craft, not coming out right and saying so, no. But dropping hints. Letting people in earshot hear her intentions for the evening, talked in obvious chants, that sort of thing,” he said pouring the last of the hot water and evacuating every last bit of tea out of the bag with the spoon.

“I can get you another bag,” Amber said starting to stand up.

“No my dear, this is fine,” he said adding some sugar.

“Go on,” she said getting more interested in the story since it was fascinating and it kept her from thinking of the two creeps behind her.

“Well,” he started again. “One spring evening on May 25th 1884 a young fellow by the name of Joe Bob Duncan was coming down the river in his boat, when he heard a loud moaning come from the old Witch’s home. Followed by what he said sounded like – sinister laughter.”

“Oh my God, I have a cousin named Joe Bob,” Amber said a little embarrassed that she was related to a character’s name who was always doing something stupid in most stories around these parts.

“Not the same one I’m sure,” the Preacher said.

“Actually I think he’s my cousin and my uncle,” she said trying to do the family tree math a little distracted.

“You don’t say,” the Preacher said becoming interested in the young Waitress’s story.

Amber realized what she just said and felt a little more embarrassed. “And I’m not doing anything to help the international conception of southern red neck stereo types, am I?”

“Not to worry my dear, I have found through my travels all over the world most places are the same, southerners just admit and joke about it a bit more openly,” he said laughing.

“Okay, enough of my interbreeding family, the Witch,” Amber urged.

“Right, the Witch. Anyways, Joe Bob made his way to the old shack which was two stories and quite large. Peering through the window he saw two bodies lying on the floor while the Witch danced around and dropped a powder like substance on them, singing her incantations,” he said then took a breath. “Joe Bob, unseen, went back to his boat and made his way back to town where he told the sheriff what he had just witnessed.”

“Did he believe him?” Amber questioned.

“Enough that he thought he’d better make his way out to the old house and at least check it out,” the Preacher said. “When they got there, there was no answer from inside. So the sheriff and the deputy busted their way in and found nothing on the floor. They checked the other rooms and still nothing.” He paused for a moment to let the suspense grow. “Finally they made their way up the stairs and in one of the rooms they found two bodies hanging from the ceiling, but. . .” He paused and leaned forward again. Amber loving the story leaned forward as the Preacher lowered his voice. “Their heads were untouched as well as the neck with ropes around them, but the rest of their bodies were just skeletons, wet with red blood. Cats were below them licking the blood off of the floor,” he said leaning back and sitting up.

“I hate cats, they say they’ll eat your eyeballs if you die,” she said quieting herself so he could go on with the story.

The Preacher continued. “They heard the crunch, crunch, crunch of leaves outside and from the window they saw the Witch running deeper into the swamp.”

“Then what happened?” she asked even more invested.

“They went back into town to organize a group to confiscate the bodies in the house and another group to hunt down the Witch, including a Preacher to protect them against her unholy powers.”

“Did she have unholy powers?” she asked not wanting to interrupt so much but wanting a bit of a spoiler.

“Well, when they caught up with the Witch she was deep in the swamp and fortunately up to her neck in quicksand.”

“I thought she fell off a bank and drowned?” Amber recalled from the version she heard as a child. “That’s why you don’t go in the swamp at night because she hides in the water.”

“I assure you my dear, she was neck deep in quicksand,” he said smiling as if he was recalling it from memory. “The look on her face was that of terror and hate as she looked at the men who came not to help her, but hunt her down and kill her. She cackled and screamed things at them that I was never able to figure out.” He stopped and thought about it for a moment before continuing. “She then said a chant and then swore that she would return twenty years from that day and burn the town to the ground.” He took a long sip of his tea and exhaled. “They did not rush to get her out and she drowned. We finally got her out with a pitch fork and some rope and took her back to town where she was buried in the cemetery. Marked with a large stone with the initials, T.W. and a large chain around her grave to stop her from ever getting out. The Sheriff even in his proud drunken state dared the witch to try and come back. And that if she actually could rise from the grave and break through these blessed chains, well then she deserved to burn down the town.”

“T.W., The Witch,” Amber said.

“So it was believed, for twenty years,” he said with a smile.

“Why is it a
lways twenty years, why so long? Some of those men wouldn’t have even been alive when she came back,” she inquired a little disappointed.

“In all things my dear, war, exploration, magic, curses and even revenge, all have one common ingredient,” he said with a pause. “They all need time,” he finished as she nodded her understanding. “And on May 25
th
1904, twenty years later, a fire started in a parlor in the middle of town. Almost all accounts said the winds were stronger than usual for that time of year. And as the fire ate, building after building the winds became more and more vicious. Some would say, determined.”

“Please don’t stop,” Amber said wishing she had a bowl of popcorn.

“Joe Bob Duncan was twenty years older and had gotten married to a fine woman who gave birth to two boys and a daughter. One of those boys was named William and thought to be an odd child, always playing alone or talking to imaginary people. Now when the fires started to get out of control the town, including Joe Bob, pitched in.” He had to pause for another sip of tea. Amber waited patiently even though she thought he was taking an awful long sip. Finally he continued. “And then when they could not contain the fire, they called on fire fighters from all over the county to come. But even with help they could not battle the fire that was aided by an almost possessed wind,” he said stopping for a moment to make sure Amber was still interested. When he saw she was still captivated he took another sip. She gave him a look that made him smile. He loved telling stories and he loved when people were enraptured by them. Suddenly he started half way through his smile. “Finally the entire downtown burned to the ground, Joe Bob returned home where an excited William waited for him. He told his father that he was playing downtown in front of the Parlor as it caught on fire and that Tandy carried him to safety.”