No You Didn't

Three: Ernie DeSoto

Sometimes, though very rarely, it takes a while for the dust to settle. Months, years, decades. But when it finally does, when the world seems to be on the brink of normalcy, one of two things happens: things suddenly become clear, or something else occurs to stir the dust back up again.

On April 29th, a body was found in the woods.

When word began to spread about the dead man, you would think suspicions immediately arose as to who did it.

But since the body came from the woods, the question wasn't who, but what did it.

Within the folds of Appalachia lay the unexplainable. Years of rituals buried in the clay.

And the people of Appalachia know this–they fear this–more than anyone.

The body in question belonged to an Ernie DeSoto–a tax collector that nobody would be too sad to miss.

The rumors were these:

"'Bout time Old Scratch gave him his due."

"Didn't he sell his soul to the devil to get out of debt?"

"I heard things just a'wailin' the other night in the woods. Same night he was killed."

Only two people attended his funeral: the preacher, whose devotion to the Lord kept him from such spirits, and a drunk who wasn't sure why he was there in the first place.

You didn't go to the funeral of somebody killed in the woods. And you never spoke a word about it afterward. That's just the way things were.

But just because nobody spoke of Ernie DeSoto or the ways he could've died, that didn't stop them from thinking of a new rumor to spread.

What if Clay Montgomery was possessed when he poisoned his four children?

It spread like wildfire. Ida Creek secretly loved nothing more than to talk about one of the most exciting and tragic things that had ever happened in their history. They'd tried to let it die down, but this new revelation was just too good to ignore.

When I heard of it, I was oiling a piece of cedar Dad was going to use for one of his clocks.

He was swamped with repairs, which I'd taken as a hopeful sign that maybe, just maybe, business would be booming once again.

The acrid smell of the oil always gave me a headache, so I stepped outside for a moment of fresh air.

It was lunchtime, so the downtown street was bustling with people on their break.

I closed my eyes and tilted my face toward the sun, feeling its warmth on my skin.

There'd been a cold snap that had put everyone back into their wool coats, but now spring had returned at last.

"...and I mean, it makes more sense. I'd always liked Clay, you know. Nice boy. So when he killed those poor children, I could hardly believe it. But now that I think about it, there were all sorts of stories going around about demon spirits out that way near the Montgomery's. If one got a hold of Clay...well..."

My eyes snapped open.

The two women walking by saw me staring at them and immediately pressed their lips together. They at least had the courtesy to look ashamed and bow their heads as they passed.

Of all the rumors I had been privy to, this one had to take the cake.

My heart shuddered with anger. It seized me in an unexpected fit that made my cheeks hot and my jaw tight.