Tuesday Tales: From the Word STARS

Happy Holidays!

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. With Christmas less than a week away, I’m sure some of you are scrambling to get things done just as am I. Let me take this time to wish all of you a wonderful holiday. Enjoy time with your friends and family. I know I will.

I’m continuing with Selma’s story.

Anca reached over and touched her aunt’s arm.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you could be wrong. You told me that not every soul stays behind because it’s in pain. Some are tied to this plane because of unfinished business. Others are lost because of the suddenness of their passing. Everyone knows plantations thrived because of the free labor of slaves stolen from their homes, but not every plantation owner or overseer was a Simon Legree. There could be many reasons why the place was ‘occupied’ as it were. Some could’ve been soldiers who died during the Battle of New Orleans in 1814; others might have been both soldiers and civilians who lost their lives during the Civil War, and you can’t discount the Yellow Fever epidemics which claimed thousands.”

Aunt Selma shook her head. “For years, I tried to convince myself of that, but there was something that ate at me. Had I embraced the Goddess then, I might’ve understood more.” She sighed. “My grandmother died shortly after my mother’s birth. Distraught, my grandfather entrusted the sickly infant to Seraphine, a woman who dabbled in the religion of her ancestors. While voodoo itself need not be dark, there are those who delve into that side of it. Still the child grew strong, healthy, and beautiful. The difference in her didn’t show until later.”

She wanted to beg her aunt for more details about the sickly infant but sensed that she needed to wait. When Aunt Selma told a story, it was a lot like watching the stars come out at night. You had to be patient. First, the planet Venus would appear, and then, one by one, the others would shine their light into the darkness. In a similar way, she dropped the main point and then slowly added the details, drawing amazing pictures with her words.

“My brother, Russell, was seven when I was born. My birth was a difficult one that changed her, almost as if I’d drained the joy and life from her. She aged, her hair turning white almost overnight. She became a vicious shrew prone to bouts of jealousy, fits of anger, days of deep depression, delusions, and paranoia. The only time she was ever content was at Black Swan. The place somehow rejuvenated her. My father didn’t blame me, but I knew deep down that Mother resented me, although it wasn’t until the end that I understood why.”

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.