Many nights I stayed with my Aunt Flora after my Uncle Sibley passed away. She was afraid of storms and couldn’t sleep when it rained. Her house sat about a mile from the prison for the criminally insane. It was closed years ago and now used as a Haunted House attraction in October.
I can remember one hot summer night. The prison alarm sounded, signaling an escape. The rain was falling and Aunt Flora curled up in a corner crying.
The lights flickered and went out. The thunder clapped. The lighting was bright enough that I could see her silhouette rocking back and forth. The heat was sweltering. The windows were up for air. The wind blew the light weight curtains back leaving the outside exposed.
“Baby, they’re coming for me.” She said.
I slammed the window shut and lit the coil oil lamp she had sitting on the mantle. I kneeled down beside her on the hard wood floor.
“Why would they come for you, Aunt Flora?” I asked. Without an answer, she reached her cold, arthritic hand out and touched my arm. Her body shook in fear.
“Being scared of storms is no reason to be housed with the criminally insane. It’ll pass soon.” I put my arm around her shoulder. She laid her head over on my chest. Her long, coarse, gray hair fell into the glass chimney of the lamp – catching fire. She jumped up, hopping around the room, pointing and screaming “Sibley, Sibley!”
My eyes followed her finger and there in the corridor was Uncle Sibley – in a ghostly form. His eyes sunken in and skin dark from the grave. He opened his mouth and wailed. I covered my ears to protect them from the piercing sound.
I tried to grab Aunt Flora but she moved too quickly, her hair igniting the curtain. The oil from the lamp streamed across the floor creating a line of fire that separated the room, leaving me on one side and her on another.
I watched the orange flames reflect from her eyes. I ran to the front door and looked back. Uncle Sibley had his grotesque hands wrapped around her frail neck. She appeared to melt from the heat. He ingested her as if she were nourishment for his soul.
“Are you alright ma’am?” I was awakened by an officer who found me laying in the tall, wet grass. I looked around at all of the Emergency vehicles that lit up the night sky. “My Aunt Flora?” I asked.
“There was no one else in the house.” He said. “No one?” I whispered.
Leesa Writes 