{"id":2856,"date":"2022-11-29T19:38:35","date_gmt":"2022-11-29T23:38:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/?page_id=2856"},"modified":"2022-11-29T19:41:55","modified_gmt":"2022-11-29T23:41:55","slug":"they-all-saw-them","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/fiction-archive\/they-all-saw-them\/","title":{"rendered":"They All Saw Them"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Colorful

If I Loved You by GJ Gillespie<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

They all saw them<\/h1>\n

Dan Woessner<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tommy reckoned they all saw them, but only Uncle Louis said anything and only Uncle Louis fought them. Mama always waved Tommy away when he mentioned the crying baby, or the scarred man with the chicken-bone necklace who Tommy called the Shaman, or the bloody, beaten woman. \u201cOh, what an imagination, maybe you\u2019ll write stories someday,\u201d Mama would say, sending him out for chores.
\nMama saw them too; he was sure of it. Daddy barely said a word about anything, so who knows what he saw, and Tommy\u2019s older sister, Mary, well she up and run away as soon as the snow thawed last winter. She was fourteen, and Tommy guessed, she\u2019d had enough. Lord knew where the wind blew her.
\n\u201cI just can\u2019t say what keeps getting into him,\u201d Mama said. She stroked Uncle Louis\u2019s bandaged hand, the kit she kept scissors and scraps of cloth and all her other tools for treating Uncle Louis\u2019s frequent injuries was on the table before her. Their servant brought a plate of eggs and steak, setting it before the minister and his wife, a gangly woman named Pearl.
\n\u201cThe Lord is taking his mind before his body, I\u2019m afraid,\u201d the minister said. The minister was a rotund man of forty, his wife was eighteen, and they had arrived that morning in one of those new mechanical carriages. Tommy had thoroughly investigated the carriage when they came while the adults chatted. The Shaman watched from the ditch, rattling his bone necklace and whispering. That\u2019s when Uncle Louis started shouting and tipped his clunky wooden wheelchair, spraining his wrist and cutting his chin.<\/p>\n

Now they were eating in the middle of the morning, an obscene ordeal in Tommy\u2019s eyes. He ate three square meals a day \u2013 one at daybreak, one at noon, and one at sunset. Pearl called it brunch, saying
\neveryone in France did it. The family\u2019s ranch raised beef and they traded for eggs with the Hawkins
\nbunch down the road. Tommy liked to barter with Old Man Hawkins, trying to get the most eggs for as
\nlittle as possible. The crazy coot didn\u2019t know the value of an egg from the hole in his ass.
\n\u201cSure is pretty here,\u201d Pearl said. She had an accent, maybe it was French, but Tommy didn\u2019t think
\nso. He thought she was from the South or something. They were sitting on the brick patio overlooking the
\nlush valley where the cattle fed, off in the distance was the snow-capped mountain.
\n\u201cMy father and Uncle Louis settled this ranch,\u201d Mama said proudly. \u201cDidn\u2019t you Uncle Louis?
\nHard work, but those two men had iron wills. Spirit of America, I say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIndians wouldn\u2019t fuckin\u2019 leave.\u201d Louis slurred, Mama had forced some tonic down his throat,
\nand he was getting drowsy. \u201cStill won\u2019t fuckin\u2019 leave.\u201d
\n\u201cPardon?\u201d Pearl said. Her eyes peered nervously around, searching the valley and surrounding timber. Tommy knew what she was looking for, the baby, it was wailing from the woods. Pearl was too polite to say anything, and the minister was fidgety. Tommy could tell the fat bastard was trying to negotiate with the God in his brain with the sort of things he saw when he visited this farm. It didn\u2019t add up, Tommy reckoned, but the minister had a good life selling his God to people, and he wasn\u2019t going to
\nlet this little blip ruin a good racket.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, there was some natives here, supposedly,\u201d Mama said. \u201cDaddy always said he and Uncle Louis gave them some whiskey and fifty dollars for the two hundred acres.\u201d
\nTommy hated when Mama told that story because it always riled the Shaman. Tommy could hear the bones on that necklace rattling; somewhere he was dancing, some Indian jig cursing this valley and Tommy\u2019s family, no doubt.
\n\u201cOh, goodness,\u201d Pearl said, \u201cI know they were savages, but I hate to hear they were taken advantage of.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, my dear,\u201d the minister patted her hand, \u201cI am sure that\u2019s just a story. They were fairly compensated and moved on.\u201d
\nMama smiled, all her smiles were fake. Drool hung from Uncle Louis\u2019s lips which were formed into a sneer. A moment earlier, he\u2019d been on the brink of sleep, but now his eyes appeared lucid.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey didn\u2019t go nowhere,\u201d Uncle Louis said.
\nMama jumped to her feet, trying to move his chair away, but Louis grabbed hold of the table with his twisted-knuckle fingers. She didn\u2019t want him to say anymore. Mama saw them, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou hear that fuckin\u2019 baby, don\u2019t you?\u201d Louis glared at Pearl. Tommy knew the true story, seen it acted out a hundred times by the apparitions.
\n\u201cI\u2026I\u2026 I hear something,\u201d Pearl said.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust the wind through the trees, my dear,\u201d the minister said.
\n\u201cIt was Martin\u2019s idea to put the baby out in the woods. Cried for a day and a half. Martin didn\u2019t have the heart to do it fast.\u201d Mama peeled his hands from the table and wheeled him toward the cabin.<\/p>\n

Tommy knew the rest. Louis and Martin ripped the bone necklace from around the Shaman\u2019s chest before staking him to a post. Whipping him before burning him alive. Tommy didn\u2019t like to think about the things they had done to the woman before putting her out of her misery with a dull knife across the throat. Tommy\u2019s grandfather hacked at it for a good minute before finally cutting the right vein. All for this piece of land.
\n\u201cPerhaps we should leave,\u201d the minister made to stand.
\n\u201cNonsense,\u201d Mama said. \u201cLet me get Uncle Louis inside and we\u2019ll finish our brunch. Do have some of the steak; it\u2019s some of the best we\u2019ve raised.\u201d
\n\u201cThe baby drove me nuts,\u201d Uncle Louis shouted. \u201cI put an end to its screaming, at least I thought I did.\u201d
\nHis words were muffled as they entered the cabin. Mama was tired when she returned, but she offered coffee to their guests. Daddy was tending to the new calves; he didn\u2019t have time for entertaining.
\n\u201cThey are buried under this patio,\u201d Tommy said. \u201cIt\u2019s where all their people have been buried for centuries.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGoodness,\u201d Pearl said, her face slack and pale. \u201cTommy tells the wildest stories,\u201d Mama said. \u201cAs I was saying, Uncle Louis and my father tamed this land. The American dream.\u201d<\/p>\n

The bones jangling and the baby crying reached a crescendo, and the frantic woman, with a gnarly gash in her throat and her golden frock painted in dried blood, raced across the valley toward the woods.
\nThey all saw them, Tommy reckoned as he cut into a steak.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dan Woessner<\/b> has published work for Shaw Media and numerous other publications in Northern Illinois over the last twenty years. He has been honored with awards from the Illinois Press Association, Illinois Associated Press, and the Associated Press Sports Editors. He has had fiction published by <\/span>FOLIO,<\/span><\/i> The Write Launch<\/span><\/i> and <\/span>Clever Fox Literary Magazine<\/span><\/i>. He has a Bachelor of Arts degree in English from Northern Illinois University and currently is the proposal manager for a professional services firm. He lives with his wife, Jodi, and dog, Millie, in Sterling, IL.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u200b\u200b<\/b>GJ Gillespie<\/b> is a collage artist living in a 1928 Tudor Revival farmhouse overlooking Oak Harbor on Whidbey Island (north of Seattle). In addition to natural beauty, he is inspired by art history — especially mid century abstract expressionism. The \u201cNorthwest Mystics\u201d who produced haunting images from this region 60 years ago are favorites. Winner of 19 awards, his art has appeared in 56 shows and numerous publications. When he is not making art, he runs his sketchbook company Leda Art Supply.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  They all saw them Dan Woessner   Tommy reckoned they all saw them, but only Uncle Louis said anything and only Uncle Louis fought them. Mama always waved Tommy Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5430,"featured_media":0,"parent":1301,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2856"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5430"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2856"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2856\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3214,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2856\/revisions\/3214"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1301"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2856"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}