Ada Malone and Spencer Woods

The sound of breaking glass startled me from a deep sleep. As I sat up in bed, I heard my grandfather's voice downstairs cursing. Then I smiled when I heard him apologizing to my grandmother for breaking her favorite platter and for cursing. The house was old, and the walls were paper-thin, so it wasn't hard to overhear conversations within this ancient place. "The girl doesn't need to be hearing those foul words coming from your big mouth," I heard my grandmother say, and another smile came across my face. Grandmother was a tiny woman, about 5' 2", weighed about 110 lbs. soaking wet, but it was clear to everyone who knew her who the boss was around here. My parents were going through a rough divorce, and my father thought it would be best for me to come live with my grandparents until things were settled. I didn't mind the change of scenery at all. Things at home had been nothing short of total chaos for me the last couple of months, so I was ready for a change. I just didn't realize how much of a change it would end up being. It was late October, and school had already started. It was a smaller school than I was used to, but I looked forward to a change. I didn't mind leaving my school, but the thought of starting a new school frightened me, I had seen how new kids were treated, and I didn't look forward to that. The people around here were different and very standoffish of outsiders. My father had grown up in this tiny town. He had gone to school here and graduated high school before leaving for the big city. I came from Philadelphia, and I was used to the hustle and bustle of city life. The bright lights, the noise, and if you wanted to look up and see the stars, you had to drive miles to the country. But, here in this town, life was, well, slow, more laid back, to be honest. It was what my friends back home would call stagnant. Everyone knew everyone, and most of the time knew everyone else's business. There were all kinds of people in the city, but here, from what I had seen so far, people were all the same, so I thought. I quickly got dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. One thing grandmother insisted on was, 'be on time for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.' Except for that, it was a good place for me to be, right now anyway. I sat down at the table and stared at the platter of pancakes grandmother set in front of me, and I shook my head. 'Grandmother must think I am a linebacker for the Eagle's; I couldn't eat all this.' I said to myself. I could feel grandfather's eyes watching me, and I knew he was about to speak because he always cleared his throat just before he opened his mouth. "You sleep okay last night, child," he asked, and I nodded my head. Yes, sir," I replied, and he shook his head. "You don't have to, sir, me girl. I am just a hard-working old farmer, that's all," he replied as he took a drink from his coffee cup. "Yes, sir, I mean yes, grandfather, I replied as he squinted his eyes at me. Grandfather was a stern and quick-tempered gentleman who didn't have a problem telling you what he thought. He was tall, and his shoulders were broad and muscular. "Oh, pay no mind to him, child; he is just a cantankerous old man," grandmother said, and grandfather shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. I had to smile to see him cower down to this little lady with her colorful apron and round glasses. To be honest, grandmother reminded me of Mrs. Claus, but grandfather was far from Santa. "Well, I am at least honest," he replied as he began to eat his breakfast, and I couldn't help but notice the hard look grandmother gave him. "You didn't hear any strange sounds or see anything strange last night, did you?" grandfather asked, and I looked at him, dumbfounded. "Now you stop that right now, Amos, and leave the child alone; she doesn't need to hear any of your far-fetched stories of spooks and such," grandmother fired back with a hateful look on her face as she sat down. "Well, I was just curious," grandfather replied with a smirk on his face. "What do you mean," I asked, and grandfather shook his head. "Well, you're father didn't tell you this farm was haunted? I am surprised he didn't tell you about that," grandfather said as he looked at me. "No, he never talked about the farm. He never talked about when he was a boy growing up here," I replied, and grandfather shook his head. "I see; well, that doesn't surprise me one bit. I can understand why he didn't," he replied as he stood up and put on his old cap. Just be careful in those woods along the creek, that is, if you decide to go wandering off that way. They say they are infested with the little people," he added as he walked out the back door to do his morning chores. I looked at grandmother, and she smiled, but I could tell she had to force it. "Haunted forest? What does he mean," I asked, and she shook her head? "Oh, child, he is just trying to get your goat, you know, scare you. You do know it is almost Halloween?" she replied and smiled as she finished her coffee. I knew she was just trying to change the subject, and I let her for the simple reason I didn't think I wanted to hear the truth. I spent the rest of the day arranging my bedroom, which was once my father's room as a boy. Then, after lunch, I decided to explore around, so I headed for the woods along the creek. I knew one thing for sure. Grandfather wasn't going to scare me with his wild tales of tiny people living in the woods or haunted forest. I wasn't six years old anymore, I was fourteen now, and I didn't believe in monsters and things that go bump in the dark. The autumn leaves were amazing. Their bright red, yellow, and orange colors filled the afternoon sky with a brilliant firey look. The creek was blanketed with fallen leaves that were quickly carried away by the fast-moving water as it ran across the large rocks that were standing like sentinels, guarding the forest. The crystal clear water looked as if it was on fire, reflecting all the beautiful colors of the fall leaves. I found a large rock along the creek's edge and sat down to listen to the sound of the water as it ran freely across the wooded bottomland. The sound was mesmerizing, and after a while, I was so relaxed. I had always loved the Ozark mountains. I have read several books on this country and its history. Its beauty was so self-evident one could not deny that. But, unfortunately, I had never gotten to see it until now. The breakfast grandmother had prepared now made me lay heavy on my stomach, and I became sleepy. I lay down on the huge rock, and I stared up at the colorful, fiery canopy of leaves high above me, framed against a backdrop of the bright blue autumn sky. The sun was shooting through the opening's between the canopy, sending brilliant sunbeams of gold to the ground, like spears from heaven. It was beautiful and something I had never witnessed before. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the woods. The birds were calling to each other—the rushing of the water over the rocks and the scrambling of the local squirrels as they rustled through the leaves, searching for the hickory nuts that covered the ground around me. I don't know how long I was asleep, but when I opened my eyes and sat up, I saw something moving along the creek bank just a few feet from where I sat—a tiny creature, no more than a foot tall with long tangled hair that almost touched the ground. It was staring at me with large ominous red eyes, and it made me shiver. Then, it made a high screeching sound. The ordeal lasted only an instant, and the creature darted off into the thick brush. I could hear it quickly moving through the woods as it fled off. I jumped up and ran back to my grandparent's house as fast as I could. My heart was beating in my chest. I was breathing hard, almost gasping for my breath, when I looked up and saw my grandfather looking at me from the rocking chair on the porch. "What is it, girl? You look like you seen a ghost," grandfather said as he looked at me with a smile. Then, as I caught my breath, I began to spit out the words. "I fell to sleep down by the creek," I replied as I walked on into the kitchen, where my grandmother was setting the dishes on the table. "I will be in my room. I don't feel like eating right now," I announced as I headed up the stairs. "But child," is all grandmother got to say before I closed the door to my room. So what was that? I asked myself out loud. I looked out the window toward the woods. Did I just have a bad dream, or did I see something I asked myself over and over again, trying to convince myself it was a dream but knowing it wasn't? It was around 10:00 pm when grandmother knocked on the bedroom door, and it slowly opened. "May I come in," grandmother asked as she made her way to where I was sitting on the bed and sat down. "Is everything okay," she asked, and I looked at her. Her kind eyes sparkled in the soft lighting in the room. "I am okay, thank you for asking," I replied. I knew grandmother didn't believe me, but she let it go. "Alright then. I will see you in the morning child, sleep tight," she said as she softly closed the bedroom door. I eventually turned off the light, and I finally drifted off to sleep somewhere during the night. The noise was faint, but it was enough to wake me up. I sat up in the bed and looked around the room. The only light was that from the moon that was now shining through the window. Its presence made objects in the large room take on a ghostly appearance. The wind outside was blowing the limbs from the giant oak tree next to the window. Its banging on the house didn't help matters. I pulled the blanket up to my chin as I looked back out the window at the moon. "I am just letting my imagination run away with me," I told myself, and that is when I saw something in the corner of the room move. I gasped and pulled my legs up to my chest. I strained my eyes to see if something was there. I didn't have to wait long. Three sets of large red eyes stared back at me, and I gasped and reached to turn on the lamp beside the bed. However, when I turned back toward the corner of the room, nothing was there. I searched the room, but there was no sign of anything slightly resembling those fiery red eyes. So was grandfather telling me the truth? Was this old house haunted? Or was grandmother right? He was telling me a tall tale to scare me. Either way, I was now scared. I knew one thing, I would never let grandfather know he had frightened me with his stories, but I also knew that I had to find out what was going on. There was no way I could spend the school year here scared every night like this; I would get to the bottom of this, some way. I woke the next morning to the sounds of grandmother's roosters having a crowing contest just below my window. I sat up in bed, staring at the corner of the room where I saw the glowing red eyes. Then, I walked to the window and looked down into the yard. Grandfather was getting into his old truck, and I watched as he started the old engine and drove off down the long wooded driveway. Father never talked about his parents, and I never knew of him calling them on the phone or even writing them. I never gave it any thought, but now I wondered why he had not. I quickly dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where grandmother was washing the morning dishes at the sink. "I put you a plate in the oven, dear. Sit down, and I will get it for you," grandmother said. "Where is grandfather going so early," I asked, and grandmother answered without turning around. "He had some business in town," she replied, and I got the feeling she didn't want to discuss the subject any further, and I didn't want to know; I was being polite. "You know, Monday, you will start school," grandmother announced, and I nodded my head. "Yes, ma'am, I know," I replied as I began to devour my plate of pancakes and bacon. I didn't realize just how hungry I was until I smelled the bacon as I came down the stairs. It was silent in the kitchen, except for the dishes rattling as grandmother put them into the cabinet. I knew she had something on her mind. "You're grandfather will be back this afternoon. I think he wants to take you over to meet the Simpkin girl. She is your age, and we think it would be nice for you to meet someone your age," grandmother said as she walked out the kitchen door with a basket of wet clothes. I wasn't in the mood to meet anyone new; I figured I would meet enough 'new' people on my first day of school. I was still trying to figure out what was going on here, in this house. What was up with grandfather trying to scare me, and now, grandmother seemed distant. I found that my appetite had gone away, so I washed, dried, and put away my dish. I walked out on the front porch and sat in one of the wooden rocking chairs. I looked out at the woods. I couldn't get my mind off what I had seen. I thought maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me a couple of times, but after the ordeal last night, I knew it was more than that. I was listening to the squeaking sound the old rocking chair was making when I saw movement across the field along the edge of the woods. I stood up to see better, but it didn't help at all. It could have been a deer or even one of the local coyotes. There were a lot of coyotes in these mountains, along with several other wild creatures. I was scared, but I knew I couldn't go on like this, not knowing what I saw because now I was beginning to doubt myself. So I started walking toward the woods, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Goosebumps covered my arms as I neared the edge of the dark woods. "Anyone here," I shouted. The only reply was that of a Blue Jay darting around the top of a massive Oak tree. I laughed as the bird chattered and flew from one limb to the other, watching my every move. "Girl, you best stay out of those woods today," I heard grandmother shout, and I turned to see her with a basket on her arm. "Where are you going," I asked, and she smiled. "I am going to pick some wild onions before the frost gets them tonight," she replied, and I walked along with her. She didn't say too much, mostly talking about how long it had been since she had seen my dad and how much she missed him. I felt sorry for her in a way, I knew there had been some bad blood between my father and grandfather, but I never knew what it was. I helped grandmother pick her wild onions, and we headed back to the house. Suddenly grandmother stopped, and a look came across her face that scared me. "What is it grandmother," I asked as she stared out into a small patch of woods that set in the middle of the open pasture. "Nothing, child, let's walk this way," she replied, and I followed her, wondering why she was going the long way back home, but I knew she wouldn't tell me if I had asked. I helped grandmother wash and clean the wild onions for dinner. She was quiet, and I could feel a sense of fear in her, but I let it alone. I knew she would only tell me it was nothing and then go on about her duties in the kitchen. "I think I will go read some," I said as I headed toward the stairs, and she only nodded her head in acknowledgment. Something peculiar was going on around here, and I knew now if I was going to find out what it was, my grandparents were not going to be the ones to tell me. So instead, I would call my father tomorrow, and maybe he could answer some of my questions. The following day I was up before dawn. The roosters were crowing when I heard grandmother downstairs in the kitchen getting ready to prepare breakfast. "Your up early this morning," grandfather said, and I shook my head and sat down at the table. "I am going to call father today, so I am going to town with you," I replied without making eye contact. I heard grandfather clear his throat and mumble something I could not understand. "Homesick all ready," he asked, and I shook my head. "No, I just have some questions for him, and I want to see how he is doing," I replied, and I could tell he didn't much like the idea. "Well, I am leaving right after breakfast, and it will be late when I get back home. Maybe you should wait for another day, so you don't have to tag around with me all day," he replied, and I took a deep breath. He wasn't going to stop me from calling home. "Nope, I am going this morning," I said in a stern voice, and he was about to say something when grandmother interrupted. "Well, you best take a coat with you. Weather is going to turn cooler this afternoon," she said, and I smiled, "Yes, ma'am," I replied. The drive into town was quiet. I could tell grandfather wasn't too happy with me. I stood up to him, and it was very obvious not many people did that. Grandfather didn't say a word. He just pulled into a parking space and opened the old truck door. "Be here when I leave. It's a long walk back home," he said as he slammed the truck door and walked into the small cafe. I had no idea where a phone was so I began walking and soon came to a small book store that looked as old as the town itself. As I walked in, the lady, who looked to be very old, smiled. "Well, hello child, can I help you," she asked, and I returned the smile as I walked to the counter where she stood. "Yes, ma'am, I am looking for a payphone," I replied, and she nodded her head. "Well, let's see. I think they still have one just down the street at the post office," she replied with that same big smile on her face. I looked around the store. It reminded me of a place lost in time. "You interested in a book," the lady asked, and I looked at the thousands of books lining the shelves. "Do you have any on the history of this town," I asked, and she nodded her head? "I do, let me see now," she replied as she walked to a bookcase sitting in the back of the store. "I have a couple of books written back before the great depression and one that, a Charles Whitworth, wrote in 1832. He was the towns, first mayor," she said as she pulled an ancient leather-wrapped book from the shelf and, with a cloth she pulled from her dress pocket, wiped the dust from the cover. I followed her to the counter, where she laid the large book down. "Would you like me to find the other two books for you," she asked, and I shook my head. "No, how much is this book," I asked, and the old woman smiled and pushed it toward me. "It's not for sale, but I will let you take it and read it if you promise to take good care of it," she replied with that huge smile of hers. "Thank you. I will take good care of it, I promise," I replied as I picked the book up and headed for the door. "Oh, wait. I didn't give you my name," I said as I turned around. "Oh child, I know you, your the daughter of John Malone, Amos, and Emma's granddaughter. I trust you," she said and waved at me. "Thank you again," I replied as I headed for the post office down the street.