LJ Idol Week #10: Speaking With Trees

[chasing_silver]

Harrison Whysong always was strange, the villagers agreed. He never seemed to do the same thing twice, but whatever he did do, well. It was odd.

Those Cox boys had been missing for over five days when Jacob, his brother-in-law, had the dream. "Some kind of dead deer and fallen log over the stream or something. But everyone knows that those babies wouldn'ta crossed no streams. They'da drowned tryin'," said Charles Ross. "I'm a mind their mama and papa did it."

"Shut up, Charles," said Christopher Jackson. "Jacob's as strange as the rest of that family. Don't need no blood to be witchcraft."

"They burned Jacob's grandma at the stake in the Old Country," said Charles. "We all know that."

"They didn't again," Christopher, exasperated, replied. "She died in her sleep like any respectable woman. But I'm not so sure about the rest of 'em."

They turned to look at Harrison, who was running his hands over a tree branch at the other end of the clearing.

"He's allus doing that," breathed Charles. "Somethin' about hearing the trees speak."

"Who knows what he's about," scornfully replied Christopher. "We got to find these babies. It's been cold these last nights. I'm a mind they've freezed."

"Shut your mouth, Christopher Jackson," came a female voice behind the men. "Don't you go callin' the Devil where he's no place to be."

They turned to look at Susannah Cox, mother of the lost boys. "Beggin' your pardon, Mistress Cox," said Christopher contritely. "I'm not wishin' death on your boys."

"You'd best not, after what you mongrels'd done to my house," she snapped. "I'll never get that garden to rights."

"We'll help," offered Charles tentatively. "We just had to be sure."

"Sure of what?" demanded Susannah. "Sure of we didn't murder them in their beds? We might be desperate and in debt, Charles Ross, but we ain't bewitched. You'd best look to Whysong for that. Maybe he murdered them. Maybe he's behind all this. Maybe -" and her voice broke in sobs.

Christopher put an awkward hand on her shoulder. "Whysong's touched, but he ain't a murderer, ma'am. We'll find them."

"I pray God," was all she could say in return.

//~//

Jacob had told his wife three nights before that he'd dreamed of the boys' whereabouts. "There was a dead deer and a fallen log across the stream. I swear I'd been there before, Sarah, but I have no reckoning when or where."

"Well, now, Jacob, it's not like there ain't streams around here. Providence knows which one you dreamed of. They never coulda crossed where them men were lookin'," replied Sarah. "That water is too fast and too thick. They were just little 'uns."

"Still, though," Jacob insisted. "I know it. I've been there a time before."

"Oh, darlin',", Sarah sighed. "I know it's playin' on ya something fierce. Them boys ain't gonna be found. Susannah Cox is out of her mind with grief, is all. It snowed too many times since."

"I know, but ..."

"You got to stop worrittin', Jake. We got kids, too."

Jacob had sighed, and said no more to his wife. But he did tell Harrison the next day.

"I'm not sayin' you're touched nor nothing, Harrison, but you hear things that we don't."

"I allus have," said Harrison in his slow, monotonous way. "They all say I'm a warlock or somethin', but this ain't no magic that I heered of."

"Even Sarah thinks you're japin'."

"I ain't japin', Jake. Can't you hear 'em, too? When you touch 'em?" Harrison placed his hand on the tree. "This one seed a woodpecker two nights hence. It flew off east; there's a honey tree out that way. Best to know for the summertime."

"See, that's what I mean! You know things."

"I don't," argued Harrison. "The trees do, I just got the time to listen." He paused. "Anyway, you want to find that birch tree you saw in your dream."

"I just think them babies is there," insisted Jacob. "I can't shake it."

"Well, like I say, sometimes the trees speak. I can try and help you."

"Where in blazes could it be? I never think I've seen somethin' like it."

Harrison looked at Jacob, long and considering. "I don't rightly know. But I'll see if they do." And with that, he walked off into the forest.

Harrison was gone most of the day before he returned, tired and cold, at Jacob's doorstep that night. "You got a meal to give a body?"

"I guess so, if you got news to give me," countered Jacob, and let his brother-in-law in.

After a bowl of hot squirrel stew and Sarah's homemade rosemary bread, Harrison seemed revived enough to speak. "You done good with the plants this year, sis."

"Never mind that. What nonsense have you been filling my husband's head with?"

"None at all. I know where them boys are, if what you're reckoning is correct, Jake."

Jacob sat up straighter in his chair, and sent the children away from the table. "Well?"

"The trees guided me, but it's actually a place Sarah n'me grew up near." He turned to his sister. "You remember the beheaded birch?"

"The one Daddy used to joke King James had cut the head off? O'course," said Sarah. "But what's that got to do with the babies?"

"Well, now, that's where Jake here said he saw 'em. And I know the best way to get there, I think. I did some scoutin' by the stream. There is a fallen log where you said."

"What?!"

"And I did see a dead deer, though long-dead would be more correct, I think." Harrison allowed himself a hint of a smile. "Not much left of 'er."

"And the tree?"

"Should be just across. I didn't go this time." A shadow crossed Harrison's face. "I think it'd be best if you and I did before we involve them boys' mama."

Jacob nodded. "We'll leave at first light."

//~//

The rocks were slippery and Jacob cursed several times. "Hell's bells, Harrison! You didn't say this log was in the Devil's corner!"

"Yeah, I dunno how them kids crossed it," said Harrison in his slow, methodical tone, carefully stepping across to the makeshift bridge. "Guess they were more fleet-footed than us."

"It seems uncanny," remarked Jacob, scrambling across. "I would never reckon they'd come this far."

"It's strange all right," agreed Harrison, reaching the bank of the stream and pulling Jacob the last few steps across the log. "Come on. It ain't far from here."

A child's shoe lay in the centre of the path as the land turned steeply up. "Them Allegheny ravines," grumbled Jacob. "It's a wonder them kids didn't fall down that."

"They knew these woods, I guess, as much as your kids do," said Harrison. "Or God was watching that day."

"Not long watchin', though," said Jacob, and his face drained white as he looked up. "Oh, Jesus."

Under a birch tree, looking very much like it had had its crown chopped off, lay two huddled figures. At first, they seemed just fast asleep.

Harrison took a tentative step forward. "They can't be."

"They ain't," gasped Jacob, and turned and vomited into the brush. "Jesus Christ."

The boys were so small against the spreading boughs of the white birch. The older boy, George, had his arms clasped tightly around his younger brother. Both were as white as the birch bark itself, and their nails and fingertips were coal-black. A whiff of decay came pressing up as the wind rose and rustled the trees.

"They be long dead," Harrison said sorrowfully. "At least four or five nights."

"They're not much decayed," said Jacob, recovering himself. "Been so cold."

Harrison stepped closer to the bodies and pressed his hands against the birch trunk. His eyes fluttered closed as the wind sang high above in the budding branches.

Jacob just stared at his brother-in-law. He'd never actually seen Harrison do his odd things, though others said they had. But Harrison didn't look bewitched. He just looked like, well. Like he was dreaming. Like Jacob imagined he had looked when he had dreamed about the missing Cox children.

After what seemed like hours, Harrison opened his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice sounded strange.

"They came about a week ago. Got lost after their father went off to hunt squirrel. That dog ran off this direction; they thought they'd see their papa on the way after the dog. But these woods are tricksy. They didn't make it back across the stream. Couldn't find their way out of the ravine. This seemed like a good a spot as any, so George bade Joseph sit down because he'da lost his shoe. They remembered to stay put if they ever get lost. These woods are tricksy."

He trailed off. "The first night was so cold. George gave little Joe his coat. But it wasn't enough; Joe was gone next morning. George only lasted another hour or two before he passed on, too. They been here since. Birch been takin' care of them."

Harrison's voice broke. "She said she didn't know if anyone would ever find them. She was gonna keep 'em covered up til then. Til it stopped bein' so cold." He started to cry. "She said it was cold so many nights. She didn't know how to keep them babies safe."

Jacob felt his throat tighten. "Here, now, Harrison, come away from there," he said roughly. "You know as well as I do we reckoned they'd never cross that stream."

Harrison was openly sobbing. "They were alone so many nights, Jake. How come we didn't hear them cry?"

Jacob walked over to his brother-in-law. "Harrison ... go back. I'll stay. Go get Susannah."

Harrison fell against Jacob's shoulder and cried as if his heart would break. After a moment, though, he seemed to come back to himself. He stared at his brother-in-law with clear eyes.

"Yes. Poor woman, it'll put her mind at rest finally. Hate it came to this, though." And with that, he lumbered away.

//~//

Jacob Diber never had another prophetic dream. He became famous in the Bedford County area for how he found the Cox kids, though. At first, Jacob was inclined to give all credit to his brother-in-law. But Harrison begged him not to.

"I don't reckon they still burn witches in this day and age. But witch or no, I don't need it, Jake. Have a heart and let me alone in this. Please God, just don't say it to any of them."

So the story went that Harrison had remembered a tree from his childhood days and the two men had forged a path to get there. Harrison accepted that, and after awhile, so did the community. A memorial was erected to the boys. They were buried in the family plot in Mt. Union, and the story, like all strange stories, became an Allegheny legend.

But Jacob's children knew the truth, enough that around the fire years after the Cox boys were found, they still told the story of Dad and Uncle Harrison. Their children and grandchildren loved it. "Tell us again what the birch tree said, Papa!"

Eighty years later, the story became convoluted. Isaac Diber, the last surviving son of Jacob and Sarah, was nearing his own end when he told it once more at Thanksgiving time in the old Diber homestead. But instead of fascinated, uncomprehending eyes, he found his grandson finishing it for him.

"And the birch tree told Great-Uncle Harrison that she didn't know how to keep the babies safe," finished Lennox. He stared up at Isaac with bright eyes.

"How d'you know that, son?" Isaac was puzzled. He'd never told Lennox this story before.

"Easy," said the six-year-old, jumping down from the sofa. "She told me the same thing yesterday."

This has been an entry for therealljidol. The prompt this week was synesthesia, which is "a phenomenon that causes sensory crossovers, such as tasting colors or feeling sounds. Some people describe it as having “wires crossed” in their brain because it activates two or more senses when there's only a reason for one sense to activate."

My story is based on the true story of The Lost Children of the Alleghenies, a missing children's case that happened in 1856, deep in the Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania. All characters really did exist, with the exception of Lennox, who is a figment of my imagination. Jacob Diber did have that prophetic dream, and with the help of his brother-in-law, Harrison, they did find the missing boys. You can still see the monument standing today.

Thank you for reading and voting!

Comments

[muchtooarrogant]

A fascinating true story, and you did an excellent job of bringing these characters to life. An incredibly sad outcome, so I was glad you added the bit with Lennox at the end.

Dan

[chasing_silver]

Thank you! I love old mysteries and crimes ... this was painted as a murder with the parents as the prime suspects, but then they realized that with both parents out searching, who could have murdered the kids? Plus they didn't find anything in the homestead or gardens when searched.

[inkstainedfingertips]

I absolutely love local legends and lore. This is a fascinating story that you've told incredibly well. Your voices are distinct and you paint a vivid picture for us. Really enjoyable piece.

[chasing_silver]

This one really caught me. It is a fascinating story! Thank you!

[greghousesgf]

spooky. thank you for posting this!

[chasing_silver]

Thank you for always reading!

[adoptedwriter]

What a fantastic retelling! This could be a TV series!

[chasing_silver]

I would love if it was ... this story has caught me from the moment I read about it. It's so weird. They can't figure out how the boys wandered away. They were found no less than 7 miles from their home, which sounds super far, but they knew the woods like the backs of their hands around their home.

[night_owl_9]

You bring us a new and surprising story every week. I feel so much whenever I read your latest find. Thank you!

[chasing_silver]

Thank you for always reading, friend <3

[erulissedances]

Awesome and a great tale! Really well done.

- Erulisse (one L)

[chasing_silver]

Thank you! I really enjoy rewriting these old mysteries!

[bleodswean]

Nice way to bring a mystery to life. I love the ending!

[chasing_silver]

Thank you! I wish I could have met Diber's whole family ... his son Isaac was also known to have prophetic dreams.

[swirlsofpurple]

Love the characterizations here, so vivid. Such a sad story, beautifully told. And that last line *chefs kiss*.

[chasing_silver]

Thank you so much! <3

[halfshellvenus]

A fascinating and sad story! This reminds me of so many of the stories you told in previous seasons where you gave life to historical fact. The butter-box babies are still with me even now.

[murielle]

I first heard the legend through Allison Krause's song. It is such a heartbreaking tragedy.
Your retelling with the testimony of the birch tree is so touching and endearing, I think the two will be forever joined in my mind.

Wonderful! ❤

[rayaso]

This had such wonderful dialog! The voices were great. I was surprised to learn that this was basd on a true story. You certainly made it yours. Great work!

[fausts_dream]

Our top 20 showing its versatility this week. I am glad that Gary's unique prompt brought out a few different notes from some sublime singers.

If you wrote a cereal box ingredients list I would probably read it, but this is excellent even by your standards.

[xeena]

Your take on this prompt was great and your descriptions are fantastic. This was awesome