Miraculous: Tales of the Unknown (6 page)

Aayla rounded a corner of
the narrow road and, as her jeep lights panned across the darkness,
she was stunned to realize she had been guided to the geocache she
had intended to avoid. She checked her GPS but the tiny gray map
seemed confusing.

With dread, she lifted her
gaze to the road. The strange things there seemed to creep up from
the gravel in black and white, illuminated by the stark headlights,
shadows thrown deep into the darkness beyond. Several stones
outlined a tiny grave next to the road, though there was no
cemetery for miles. Standing guard were several Virgin Mary
statues, tilted or fallen completely, weathered and dark, old dolls
in various stages of decay, and a small, chipped, cherub statue.
Draped over everything were rosaries and silk flowers, faded and
torn. Tokens left by disquieted visitors at the century-old
grave.

The nearby geocache was
called "Pains of the Wagon Train". It drew geocachers to the 1870
grave where a wagon train had passed through and a three year old
girl had died on the journey. The family and other members of the
wagon train had buried the little girl and soon had to move
on.

Aayla checked the locks on
the jeep again and imagined what it must have been like for the
family to leave their little girl behind. To drive off in the wagon
toward their destination and leave her body buried alone in the
woods. She could picture the mother staring at nothing with empty
eyes from the wagon seat.

There was no cemetery and
Aayla had supposed there would be just an old grave marker near the
road like the one she had seen on the way to Moran. Neither grave
had ever been moved. They both remained in their original locations
as part of history.

This would have been an
interesting stop in the daytime with other geocachers. They would
have looked over all the things that had been left. Taken the time
to make out the dates on the lichen-covered stone. But alone at
night in the back-country, gooseflesh slipped down her
spine.

Part of her wanted to say
"Forget the geocache, I'm not getting out of this jeep." But she
didn't; she would have felt silly. There was nothing out here but
trees and dust covered toys.

She clutched her
flashlight, left the jeep running and found the cache, another
green metal ammo box, across the road under a fallen fence post.
The night was still and quiet as she retrieved the little log book
from the box, this time careful to keep the latch from banging
open. She took it to the hood of the jeep to note her geocacher's
handle and the date. She turned to replace the log book but was
halted by a glance at the grave. The hair raised on the back of her
neck. The Virgin Marys were upright and all facing her.

She felt a strong urge to
drop the log book and get in her jeep. She was sure the statues had
been toppled over and disheveled when she had pulled up. She wasn't
certain now. She forced herself to walk back to the cache and
replace the log book. Her hands trembled and she fumbled with the
latch. She just wanted to be done and gone, to get back to Oscar
who was surely walking from room to room in her tiny house,
wondering where she was.

Aayla shoved the box back
under the fence post and stood up, patting her pocket for the
reassurance of her cell phone. It wasn't there. She had left it on
the hood of the jeep. Panic quickened her heartbeat and shaking
legs nearly betrayed her as she stumbled back across the
road.

She didn't want to look at
the grave again. She tried to focus on the jeep. But something had
changed. She clenched her jaw and turned her eyes to the grave. The
dolls were sitting up, their arms outstretched toward her, eyes
wide in the glare of the headlights.

Her heart pounded. This
was a sick joke. Who would do this? Who could do this so quickly
and silently? She slapped the hood of the jeep with both hands. No
cell phone. She was so out of breath that she was getting dizzy.
She searched the ground but could barely see anything now. Inside;
she must have left it in the seat. She yanked open the jeep door. A
small cry thrust from her throat and the heat drained from her
body. A dirt-covered doll lay in the seat.

She stumbled back a step.
She was losing her senses and felt like she was no longer
completely there, as if in a dream. She spun around off balance,
arms out, her breath jerking in and out in gasps. Something else
had changed. She felt faint. A dark shape lay in the ditch by the
fence post. She had just come from there. She stared until
realization settled over her. She was looking at her own body, her
own blond hair soaked in blood, draped over a rock.

Her heart stilled. The
cold night air stole through her soul. She felt thin as a wisp of
wind. A hand slipped inside hers. She looked down and the solemn
girl looked up. Her mouth did not move but her words crawled into
Aayla's mind.
Don't ever leave me
again.

Sweet Silence

By Amanda
Alberson

© 2013 By Amanda
Alberson

Aiden looked over at his
friend again and rolled his eyes. Jared sat on the edge of his seat
wrapped in childlike excitement.

This is so lame! Aiden
thought as he looked around the outdated bar, aptly named, The
Boondocks. They’d driven for what seemed like hours into the
endless Louisiana swamps before finding the clap board
shack.

He reached out and poked
Jared in the shoulder to get his attention then signed, “She better
be A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.” He spelled the last word slowly with grand
gestures to get his point across.

Jared laughed and replied,
“Dude she will be, trust me.”

Shaking his head Aiden
took another drink of his beer. He’d known Jared his whole life and
trusted him in almost every way. Although being dragged to the
middle of nowhere to watch some hot chick sing, even though he
couldn’t hear her, had him doubting his own sanity as well as
Jared’s.

The crowd was small,
filled mostly with college guys just like Aiden and Jared. The
shack felt larger on the inside than it looked from the parking
lot. The dimly lit tables were nestled up against the stage as if
they too were eager fans. The only other person aside from the
lusty eyed patrons was a tall, steel eyes bartender who hadn’t
spoken when Jared ordered their beers, only nodded gruffly and slid
them across the bar.

The lights dimmed and
Aiden’s eyes fell on the stage as the red velvet curtain began to
part. A long leg slid from the darkness. From the folds of the
curtains stepped a tall womanly girl with deep burgundy red hair.
An aqua sequenced dress clung to her curvy figure. She looked like
a 50’s pin up girl with her large innocent eyes and her thick,
curvy body.

Aiden’s stare slid down
her, over her hips, to her milk white legs that found home in the
long split in her dress. She stood on stage drinking them in, her
bare feet and perfectly manicured aqua toe nails peeked from
beneath the long hem. His eyes traveled back up, enjoying every
inch of her sensuous body. Her round emerald eyes sat on a plain
but pretty face. She wasn’t a Hollywood bombshell but there was
something alluring about her. Jared was practically clawing at the
stage in a vain attempt to pull her closer.

Esilee scanned the small
crowd. There was a collective sigh as she slowly slid her tongue
across her crimson lips. She looked ravenously down at the young
man gripping the stage and smiled. The young ones were always so
eager, never any challenge with them. She took a slow, long breath
and began to sing. The room fell deathly silent except for the soft
murmuring of her voice.

Aiden looked over to give
Jared a thumb up but his friend was too enthralled with the woman
on stage to pay him any attention.

Finishing the last of his
beer he grabbed his bottle as well as Jared’s and headed towards
the bar. The bartender eyed him suspiciously as Aiden set the
empties down and motioned for two more.

“What’s the matter don’t
like girls?” The man asked. In the dim lights it was hard for Aiden
to follow his lips and he was afraid he’d read them
wrong.

Speaking to strangers
always embarrassed him. He knew the look and the million questions
that followed every time he spoke to someone new, so instead he
just shrugged.

Esilee watched him stand
at the bar, his back arrogantly turned to her. Fire blazed in her
emerald green eyes as she sang louder. No one had ever ignored her
before, no man could have, would have ever ignored the sound of her
voice. The room let out a moan as she crooned even louder, her
throaty voice growling the words. As her smoky song filled the room
the men at the tables swayed along.

Aiden felt a slight change
in the air around him, a light rumble in the bar where his hand lay
and then it was gone. He continued counting out ones for the
beers.

Esilee lowered her voice
again to a soft lullaby and smiled as she heard heads falling on
tables. She stepped from the stage, moving fluidly through the
sleeping crowd, when Aiden turned she was standing in his path
glaring at him.

“You don’t like my songs?”
She asked. He could tell by her tense stance and the way she bit at
the words she as angry.

He sighed; he had no
choice but to answer her.

“If your voice is as
beautiful as you are I’m sure no man on earth could resist it, but
I can’t hear it, I’ve been deaf since birth.” He looked down at his
feet, not wanting to see the pity or the surprise on her
face.

Esilee felt the warm heat
slide across her cheeks. He’d called her beautiful, without even
hearing her voice. He wasn’t entranced by her siren song, he wasn’t
waiting endlessly for the next notes to come from her, and yet he’d
called her beautiful.

“Really?” She asked, not
noticing he wasn’t looking at her anymore. She slid a finger
beneath his chin and tilted his head up so she could meet his eyes.
They were such a deep blue; they almost looked like home to Esilee.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d swam in the deep fathoms
of the ocean. Certainly not since the giant storm had swirled her
up and carried her to this wooded swamp. The waters were deep
enough in places but too shallow in others. The creatures here were
both familiar and different, but she found what she needed so she
remained. Always lonely and often homesick, she craved something
she did not understand until she saw Aiden. Something she’d never
known in all her lifetimes nor in all the years she’d been here
living off the locals and the college frat boys that came seeking
the Siren of the Swamp. Esilee craved true love.

“Really?” She asked again,
“You think I’m beautiful?”

Aiden smiled at her. Her
features softened into those of a young girl, eager to be adored
but too shy to seek the attention.

“Of course I do. I wish I
could hear you sing, but there is something fairly close to it.” It
was his turn to blush, he couldn’t believe what he was about to ask
her.

“If I could put my hand
here,” he reached forward tentatively and places his hand just
above her breasts.

“If I put my hand here
while you sing, I can feel your voice.” He smiled at her
shyly.

She clasped her hand over
his and began a low, deep ballad of lost ships and men buried in
the sea. Her chest swelled and rumbled beneath his hand. He felt so
much more than just the vibrations from her voice; he felt the
emotions the song brought out of her. Sorrow and pain flowed from
her and into his heart. They looked at each other, tears brimming
in both their eyes.

It was then Aiden noticed
the other men, dead eyed and swaying in their seats, awoken by her
newest song.

“What are you?” He
asked.

Esilee looked away,
ashamed for the first time in her life for what she was.

“I’m a siren. I survive
off the souls and flesh of men that are lured here and entranced by
my voice.” She dropped her hand from his, waiting for the shriek of
terror, for the utter rejection.

“Well you caught me.”
Aiden replied.

She smiled at him through
her tears.

“But I don’t want
you.”

“Too small a catch?” He
smiled back, winking at her.

Caught off guard by his
innuendo she laughed out loud, causing the men in the room to laugh
along with her.

“No, I could never destroy
you, you found beauty in me without magic or tricks, and how could
I ever destroy that?”

“Are you going to kill all
of these men? Do you know them? One of them is my best friend; I’ll
beg you for his life if it would help.” He slowly slides one finger
across her collarbone then up to her chin, bringing her eyes to
his.

“I only need one; I would
never take your friend from you.”

“How do you decide?” He
looked out over the crowd. How did one choose which life was less
valuable than another? Nothing about any of the men there stood
out. None looked like bad men that would deserve a good soul
eating.

“I don’t think about it
really. I sing and at the end of the night I call to one of them to
stay, one that came alone, or looks like he’s at the end of his
rope. Sometimes old crab boat captains and alligator hunters wander
in from the swamp. No one thinks anything of it if they go missing,
it’s a hazardous job fishing these swamps, and sometimes men
disappear.”