The Song of the Nightshades Part Two
I wouldn’t have even bothered to write this stuff down. In fact, I almost didn’t. But that day at the library convinced me that whatever was happening, was just the beginning. I can’t explain how I derived that, from finding nothing out of the ordinary at the library. Call it a hunch. And maybe some nerves.
I have always believed in the power of instincts, and that day as I left the library, I tried to tune into mine. This was the midwest and there was an interesting history associated with this part of the country. I couldn’t remember anything specific about dark shadows that cozy up to strangers, but anything was possible.
But, I realized I didn’t know much, compared to what there was to know. It was this thought that brought me to thinking about gramps.
Gramps lived with two of his wartime friends, in an old ranch house that had once belonged to a famous singer. The house had been renovated into several, separate apartments, and had ample space. The two war buddies and gramps, were the only surviving members of the old unit. They had all met in the war, and had survived it together, and had remained friends ever since.
They had also been born and raised in this area, if there was anything strange about this place, surely gramps would have heard about it somewhere along the way.
The Song
It was late afternoon by the time I made it to the outskirts of town. The day was hot and overcast with storm clouds. The estate that gramps lived on was large and well tended. The house sat near the back of the property where a small pocket wilderness thrived.
After pulling through the gates of the entrance and parking at the garage, I went to the door and knocked loudly. Gramps and his friend Walt, typically enjoyed the early evening news at volume level 9. After a few respectable minutes, in which no one answered the door, I knocked again. There was nothing.
When another few minutes had passed with no response, I decided to check around the side of the house, where gramps had placed his garden. As I rounded the corner of the large house, I spotted gramps sitting on a bucket beside the garden, reading an old book. He had the garden planted already, the empty seed packets were stacked neatly beside him.
“Well hello Jimmy!” gramps’ greeting was jovial enough, yet sounded slightly distracted. “Too late for the planting! The early bird always catches the worm!” Closing the old tattered book, gramps stands shakily, and we greet one another with a hug.
“I am always running behind, gramps, there just aren’t enough hours in the day!” I observe the finished work that gramps has done with the garden, as he takes a long look at me.
“You losing sleep young man?” I was unprepared for this line of questioning and I must have blinked more than once, because his next words stopped me cold. “You’ve started seeing ’em haven’t you?”