DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Acolyte, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5, Fall 1943

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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5, Fall 1943

Page 13

forgotten. So, half facetiously, I asked: "Well, did you dream last night?"
Eb Corey, who had come in from the fields, looked at me curiously but not angrily. Mrs. Corey, however, shot me a look that made me wish I hadn't asked the question. Nevertheless we all awaited Bruce's answer---she mot anxiously of all.
"Yes," he said, "I did. And that's peculiar, because I usually never dream. Maybe it was because I was up pretty late reading in those books..."
At the mention of the books Mrs. Corey looked at Bruce quickly, quizzically.
"Oh," Bruce said. "I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to look at them, but you see I'm interested in that kind of lore."
"It's all right. Please go on."
"Sure," I reminded him, "what about the dream? But I suppose you don't remember it. Most people don't..."
"But I do. It was just a fragment of a dream really, but too vivid for me to forget. It seemed that I was walking somewhere in a sort of mist. Down a narrow dirt road. There was a rusty wire fence to my right, and I came to a gap in it. Automatically I turned and passed through it, and walked down a path behind a large house..." Bruce turned to me and smiled, as though he were reciting a fairy story to a child. "All this while, mind you, something was drawing me---I wasn't walking of my own volition. I knew I should make an effort to turn back, but at the same time, paradoxically, I seemed very anxious to get to whatever was drawing me. Well... the path was tangled with coarse grass and weeds, and suddenly I saw where I was walking: in a graveyard. All around me were tombstones, but not stones really, for most of them were ancient name-boards of wood, inclining at all angles and overgrown with weeds and brambles. Then--right before me--I saw a low cement tomb. It was cracked and moss-covered, but the wooden door was still solid, and the huge iron hinges, though rusty, were still intact. I stood a moment before that door; now I felt a very strong attraction, almost an affinity, to -- to whatever lay beyond. I don't doubt that I would have entered--in fact, I was just about to--but at that moment I awoke. I was lying on my cot upstairs and a cool breeze was coming in the window at my head. I closed the window and went back to sleep, but I didn't dream any more."
I glanced at Mrs. Corey. She had sat there taught and silent as Bruce talked. Now she was biting her lips as though to keep from screaming, but the scream showed in her eyes. She rose in sudden agitation and left the room.
Her husband continued eating for a moment in silence. Then he looke up, unperturbed, and said: "Martha's easy upset. But maybe there's good reason. You see, she had a sister that slept in that room once, and she dreamed that same dream, and then -- she just disappeared. No trace ever found of her. Before that, it was the Munroe boy---I remember it like it was yesterday."
"Yes, Lyle Wilson was telling me about the Munroe boy's disappearance," said Bruce. "Do you know anything about it?"
"Nothing except he was playing out in the fields near the ravine, and he disappeared. We searched, but no trace of him. Then--it must have been all of a week later--his younger brother came running home and said he'd seen Willie's face, with a lot of others."
"His face!" Bruce sat bolt upright. "Is that what he said?"
"Yep, that's all he could say. He'd seen his brother's face, with a lot of others. Said he'd been playing down in the ravine, but he didn't know just where."
Bruce looked at me, and he wasn't smiling now. Corey seemed to take everything stoically. "Of course," he went on, "it used to be horses and cattle that disappeared -- no trace. This all happened some few years ago. The land was pretty bad then, too, but hasn't been so bad since. Not 'til just recent."
"What do you think of all this,Eb?"
Eb Corey just looked at Bruce stolidly. "Mr. Tarleton, you're a scientific man. I'm just trying to make a living here off land that -- that ain't right, somehow. You said that books like them upstairs is a kind of hobby of yours. Then you oughta know more about all this than I do. I looked into one of them books once--just once. I can say this: I didn't understand much of it, but I know such studyin' won't bring you to no good end. But that's your affair. Me -- I just try not to think too much about it."
-- 13 --

Saving...

forgotten. So, half facetiously, I asked: "Well, did you dream last night?" Eb Corey, who had come in from the fields, looked at me curiously but not angrily. Mrs. Corey, however, shot me a look that made me wish I hadn't asked the question. Nevertheless we all awaited Bruce's answer---she mot anxiously of all. "Yes," he said, "I did. And that's peculiar, because I usually never dream. Maybe it was because I was up pretty late reading in those books..." At the mention of the books Mrs. Corey looked at Bruce quickly, quizzically. "Oh," Bruce said. "I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to look at them, but you see I'm interested in that kind of lore." "It's all right. Please go on." "Sure," I reminded him, "what about the dream? But I suppose you don't remember it. Most people don't..." "But I do. It was just a fragment of a dream really, but too vivid for me to forget. It seemed that I was walking somewhere in a sort of mist. Down a narrow dirt road. There was a rusty wire fence to my right, and I came to a gap in it. Automatically I turned and passed through it, and walked down a path behind a large house..." Bruce turned to me and smiled, as though he were reciting a fairy story to a child. "All this while, mind you, something was drawing me---I wasn't walking of my own volition. I knew I should make an effort to turn back, but at the same time, paradoxically, I seemed very anxious to get to whatever was drawing me. Well... the path was tangled with coarse grass and weeds, and suddenly I saw where I was walking: in a graveyard. All around me were tombstones, but not stones really, for most of them were ancient name-boards of wood, inclining at all angles and overgrown with weeds and brambles. Then--right before me--I saw a low cement tomb. It was cracked and moss-covered, but the wooden door was still solid, and the huge iron hinges, though rusty, were still intact. I stood a moment before that door; now I felt a very strong attraction, almost an affinity, to -- to whatever lay beyond. I don't doubt that I would have entered--in fact, I was just about to--but at that moment I awoke. I was lying on my cot upstairs and a cool breeze was coming in the window at my head. I closed the window and went back to sleep, but I didn't dream any more." I glanced at Mrs. Corey. She had sat there taught and silent as Bruce talked. Now she was biting her lips as though to keep from screaming, but the scream showed in her eyes. She rose in sudden agitation and left the room. Her husband continued eating for a moment in silence. Then he looke up, unperturbed, and said: "Martha's easy upset. But maybe there's good reason. You see, she had a sister that slept in that room once, and she dreamed that same dream, and then -- she just disappeared. No trace ever found of her. Before that, it was the Munroe boy---I remember it like it was yesterday." "Yes, Lyle Wilson was telling me about the Munroe boy's disappearance," said Bruce. "Do you know anything about it?" "Nothing except he was playing out in the fields near the ravine, and he disappeared. We searched, but no trace of him. Then--it must have been all of a week later--his younger brother came running home and said he'd seen Willie's face, with a lot of others." "His face!" Bruce sat bolt upright. "Is that what he said?" "Yep, that's all he could say. He'd seen his brother's face, with a lot of others. Said he'd been playing down in the ravine, but he didn't know just where." Bruce looked at me, and he wasn't smiling now. Corey seemed to take everything stoically. "Of course," he went on, "it used to be horses and cattle that disappeared -- no trace. This all happened some few years ago. The land was pretty bad then, too, but hasn't been so bad since. Not 'til just recent." "What do you think of all this,Eb?" Eb Corey just looked at Bruce stolidly. "Mr. Tarleton, you're a scientific man. I'm just trying to make a living here off land that -- that ain't right, somehow. You said that books like them upstairs is a kind of hobby of yours. Then you oughta know more about all this than I do. I looked into one of them books once--just once. I can say this: I didn't understand much of it, but I know such studyin' won't bring you to no good end. But that's your affair. Me -- I just try not to think too much about it." -- 13 --