Pepper L. Bauer: Myrtle
Nighttime, a seemingly endless span of time; anxiety is amplified and every nocturnal noise takes on an ominous meaning.
Myrtle, comfortably hunkered down for the night, felt apprehension grow as she peered out over her bedding and watched moon generated shadows waltz slowly around her room, marking the passage of time. She had no idea what terrified her, but the lack of clarity wasn’t a comfort, as the unknown is always more frightening than the known.
Odd things were going on in her close-knit little community. Family and friends seemed to be disappearing at an alarming rate, without as much as a good-bye.
At first, Myrtle thought that she was just missing her acquaintances at their usual hangouts, or they were on a trip. She watched and waited, and as time wore on no one ever reappeared. Her uneasiness turned to dread. Something was desperately wrong.
She squinted into the murky darkness. The comforting sound of regular breathing emanating from her sleeping family helped ease some of the tension. At least they were all accounted for.
Finally, golden light burst through the window announcing the dawn of a new day. Relief filled her whole being.
"Things don't seem as bad when the sun is shining," Myrtle thought as she climbed out of bed. She stretched her sleep-deprived muscles and looked around the room. Everything appeared normal. The apparitions of darkness had vanished, vaporized by the morning.
Soon, everyone was awake; the morning bustle and chatter diminished Myrtle's night terrors. "There's probably a rational explanation for the vanishings. I'll get to the bottom of it today," she promised herself as she preened for the new day. "Right after breakfast."
Joining the rest of her family, she immersed herself in her food, enjoying every bite. "Nothing like a long, scary night to whet an appetite," she mused between mouthfuls. She noticed that even her noisy sisters stopped cackling long enough to relish their breakfast. If it weren't for the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, life would be good.
After breakfast, Myrtle intended on diving into her investigation and getting to the bottom of the mystery, but she just couldn't keep her eyes open. Every fiber of her being screamed out for sleep.
"I'll just sneak back into my cozy bed for a little nap," she planned as she looked around. No one was paying any attention; she wouldn't arouse any curiosity.
Buried in her bedding, frenzied thoughts slowly succumbed to her mind's overwhelming need to rest. She sunk into a deep sleep; vivid nightmares and fantastic scenarios filled her uneasy dreams.
Suddenly Myrtle snapped awake, her heart beating furiously, her mouth as dry as ashes. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. For one disoriented second, she didn’t know where she was. A shaft of afternoon sun slashed across the room, specks of dust dancing frenetically on its shimmering path.
“I need a drink of water,” she mumbled, carefully sliding over the side of her berth. “Wonder what time it is?” She felt like she had been asleep for hours.
Slowly stumbling across the room to ease her thirst, the pervasive, creepy, silence started to register on Myrtle’s sleep sodden brain. She stopped, listened intently, and couldn’t hear anyone. Icy fingers squeezed her heart so hard she thought it would burst. Tears started to form. Where was everybody?
Carefully creeping up to the outside door, she crouched down, and peered through an opening into the yard. It was totally deserted. Dry, windblown, leaves skittered in energetic dances as they raced across the compound. There was not a being in sight. She knew in her heart that this was going to end very badly.
Panicked, Myrtle turned and raced back to her room, frantically searching for a place to hide. Cramming herself into a tiny space between her bed and the wall, she crouched trembling. Time froze, punctuated only by the pounding of her heart.
Eventually the intensity of her thirst overcame her fear. She had to get a drink; her tongue felt twice its usual size. Slowly and deliberately, step by step, she extricated herself from her place of refuge and moved across the floor. Thank goodness, it wasn't far to the water.
Straining to hear every little noise, Myrtle finally reached the center of the room. She had never felt so exposed and vulnerable in her entire life.
Like a crack of a gun in the silence, she heard a door open. Before she could react, hands that felt like iron bands grabbed her from behind and literally lifted her off her feet. She struggled, but it was futile.
A voice screamed out, just about shattering Myrtle's eardrum. "Mom, we missed one." She felt herself being carried bodily out into the yard, the late afternoon sun blinding her. She thought she'd faint.
Her abductor shouted again, this time even louder. "We got one more." She heard it laugh, a nasty sound, and then soften its tone. "Thought you'd get away, eh? Well, little one, the only place you're going, is to join your friends." It chuckled again.
A door in a building several feet away opened, revealing a figure in the shadows. Myrtle's captor held her up in the air. "See, what'd I tell ya. And she's a big one too."
The shadow swore profusely.
With sudden clarity, Myrtle knew that if she entered the structure with her kidnapper, her life was over. She squinted at the being waiting for them in the doorway, her new found clairvoyance revealing that it was her executioner. She sobbed, tears flowing freely.
Myrtle mustered up all her energy and fought back as best she could, pecking her tormentor and beating it with her powerful wings, but to no avail. "Let me go," she gobbled at the top of her lungs. But, the hands just held her higher in the air as they carried her through the dark door and under the weather-beaten sign with the letters that spelled out, "MA'S TURKEY FARM." DSS
Pepper L. Bauer, of Mapleton, IL. writes a weekly newspaper column, is president of the Peoria Area Anti-Hunger Coalition, and has won many awards for her advocacy and plays the banjo in her free time. This is her 15th story for Downstate Story.
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