Ghosts' of November

Chapter 8: Sometimes and Maybes'

> It was too early for the sun to rise, and just dark enough to keep the sun's warmth hidden behind a thin layer of mist. Old Blue snarled from across the room as there was a pounding on the front door. My eyes barely had time to open before my naked feet felt the cold floor shake again, as the door was struck one last time with a vengeance. William had used a hammer to leave a note. The Old Man was two days behind on his work, and if there was a third day we would be moving. William owned the land, and was smart enough to give The Old Man a month to month contract. Today, The Old Man better put down fertilizer to prepare for a second planting. When The Old Man forgot to come to work, the responsibility became mine.

> Even if there was time for breakfast there was nothing to have for breakfast except a piece of stale bread and some Swifts peanut butter. William only had 25 acres, with equipment that worked most of the time. He didn't need a sharecropper but had a reputation for being generous with a temper. The day was already hot and getting hotter as all the equipment was loaded into the small tractor. The heat was almost unbearable by the ninth acre. It was time for a break, even if there was no time for a break. Thankfully the shack was close enough that it only took a few minutes to walk back. There were a few apples on the counter picked from old man John's orchard. The radio was propped in an open window, as the music filled the silence.

> The radio was used as a distraction, something to keep my mind busy. There were some words that were remembered, and there were some songs that made me smile. Robert, who had introduced me to music, liked all types of music, but not me, it was only rock and roll. When the music couldn't distract me, my mind kept drifting away. There were so many questions, what benefit was there to living, what benefit was there to run, what benefit was there to dream? The Old Man would eventually come home, and hell would be awakened again. My fight was just beginning, but they're really wasn't any fight left in me. It was time to get back into the fields, there were still ten acres to finish before the day could end.

> It felt like three days' worth of work done in too many hours to count, and boy did my body feel it. The last 5 acres were next to one of the main roads that led to town. By now, my voice was screaming, just singing the songs that could be remembered without the words. Music had become art to me, and much like books, they took me into places where there was no need to hide. My favorite song was one that really made no sense, probably cause it was from another world. It was the only song that could be sung from beginning to end without having to open my eyes. The little tractor was loud, but my voice was louder." My voice rang out as the words to the song got louder and louder.

" Well he came down to earth and he lit in a tree I said Mr. Purple People Eater, don't eat me I heard him say in a voice so gruff I wouldn't eat you cuz you're so tough It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater One-eyed, one-horned flyin' purple people eater One-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater Sure looks strange to me.."

> When from the corner of my eye there she stood; staring at me, like maybe it was me that was from another planet. The song ended while my mouth was still trying to make a sound. No one, not even Robert, had ever heard me sing before. There were moments in the song, where my emotions became the lyrics that couldn't hide. There were moments where tears filled my eyes with both rage and sorrow. They needed to be released so they would stop eating me. Why was she not walking away, the moment was over? The work had all but stopped. "Hey" her voice became the only sound that could be heard. Was she really talking to me? There were no words that seemed to make sense in my mind, so my voice stayed quiet.

> She stood there, not moving, as the silence became uncomfortable much too fast, but her gaze had not changed. "Hey", was the only word that would come to me, and even then it came out sounding like a broken record. There was nothing else to do but look at her. "I like to sing too, I'm not too good at making up my own words though." Somehow she had moved closer to me. "I just sing along to the songs I know, like "Purple, People Eater", she said with a smile. "What, wait, how long have you been there?" "Long enough to know you like that song, but that's about it." Again, her gaze wouldn't let me go. There should've been nerves or anxiety or something with how fast my heart was racing.