Belated addendum to the disclaimer: the Hook Man, or the Hookerman, is a pretty well known spirit, not just in Alabama, but appearing on rail roads across the country. He usually shows up as a glowing light, as I've described in the last part. As far as I know, he only shows up as an apparition, without any physical manifestation, but I liked the idea of him as a helper spirit. The General is based on a headless horseman like apparition from a really old dream of mine. The Priest and the Native are just random creations.
Roads Less Traveled
by Casix Thistlebane
Story 3: Sweet Home Alabama
Part Three
By unspoken agreement, Xander and Dawn stayed in Gurdon another week, to sort out Charlotte's final business, and arrange for her funeral. They hadn't been able to find any living relatives, and the local attorney had no last will for her on file. Charlotte's life insurance covered most of the costs of the embalming and funeral, while the town, who had taken to the old woman, covered the rest. Her furniture and mundane belongings were sold by the church, and Xander packed up her old weapons and more esoteric texts to be shipped to the Helsing Institute. He managed to grab the old photo album before the locals came in to sort out her belongings, and pack it into his own suitcase.
It had been a heart attack, not entirely unexpected by the town. Her physician, an older gentleman himself, explained that her renewed health back in May had been her body's final burst of energy before succumbing to time. None of that made Dawn feel any better.
The girl had withdrawn over the week, spending most of her time in the hotel room, watching television. Xander knew it was not her fault, though it may, perhaps, have been the unexpected energy of the key that had stopped Charlotte's heart. He should have known to mention that it might come into play. He was older than Dawn, and responsible for her. He should never have let the old woman perform the spell.
It was, of course, to late to change any of that.
The service was a small one, in the same cold, spitting rain that had fallen on the last afternoon of Charlotte's life. The crowd consisted mostly of the town's older generation; Xander and Dawn were the youngest there by at least ten years. The priest's eulogy was subdued, focusing on Charlotte's particular joie de vive and her work in the community. No one questioned the presence of the two young adults who had witnessed her last moments. It wasn't unheard of that Charlotte took in travelers she met in the town, and most people were simply thankful that she hadn't had to spend her final moments alone.
Xander frowned, knowing that the wetness on his face was not entirely from the rain. Dawn was sobbing next to him, mourning not just Charlotte, but probably her mother and her home as well. Xander knew his own tears were for a number of people, the slayers who'd died in the last battle in Sunnydale, and especially for Anya. He'd thought that his tears for her had ended when the group had had a small service for the dead in LA before continuing on to Cleveland. He thought he'd finished mourning when they'd uncovered the plaque that marked the entrance to the remodeled hotel, dedicating the school to a long list of names, including Joyce and Tara. As the town began to file out of the church yard in couples and groups, he realized that he'd probably never be done mourning her, or any of the others.
He knew that he and Dawn would move on again, in only a few short hours. And he hoped desperately that this would be the last funeral they'd have to attend for a new found friend on their journey.
He put his arm around her and hugged her to his wet coat as her sobs slowly faded.
"Hey kiddo."
She looked up at him. Her nose was red from tears and cold.
"Let's go to Disney World."
She nodded and gave him a half-smile. "I hear its in the seventies down there."
Xander sighed. "Sounds fabulous."
end part three
tbc in The Scottish Play
Roads Less Traveled
by Casix Thistlebane
Story 3: Sweet Home Alabama
Part Three
By unspoken agreement, Xander and Dawn stayed in Gurdon another week, to sort out Charlotte's final business, and arrange for her funeral. They hadn't been able to find any living relatives, and the local attorney had no last will for her on file. Charlotte's life insurance covered most of the costs of the embalming and funeral, while the town, who had taken to the old woman, covered the rest. Her furniture and mundane belongings were sold by the church, and Xander packed up her old weapons and more esoteric texts to be shipped to the Helsing Institute. He managed to grab the old photo album before the locals came in to sort out her belongings, and pack it into his own suitcase.
It had been a heart attack, not entirely unexpected by the town. Her physician, an older gentleman himself, explained that her renewed health back in May had been her body's final burst of energy before succumbing to time. None of that made Dawn feel any better.
The girl had withdrawn over the week, spending most of her time in the hotel room, watching television. Xander knew it was not her fault, though it may, perhaps, have been the unexpected energy of the key that had stopped Charlotte's heart. He should have known to mention that it might come into play. He was older than Dawn, and responsible for her. He should never have let the old woman perform the spell.
It was, of course, to late to change any of that.
The service was a small one, in the same cold, spitting rain that had fallen on the last afternoon of Charlotte's life. The crowd consisted mostly of the town's older generation; Xander and Dawn were the youngest there by at least ten years. The priest's eulogy was subdued, focusing on Charlotte's particular joie de vive and her work in the community. No one questioned the presence of the two young adults who had witnessed her last moments. It wasn't unheard of that Charlotte took in travelers she met in the town, and most people were simply thankful that she hadn't had to spend her final moments alone.
Xander frowned, knowing that the wetness on his face was not entirely from the rain. Dawn was sobbing next to him, mourning not just Charlotte, but probably her mother and her home as well. Xander knew his own tears were for a number of people, the slayers who'd died in the last battle in Sunnydale, and especially for Anya. He'd thought that his tears for her had ended when the group had had a small service for the dead in LA before continuing on to Cleveland. He thought he'd finished mourning when they'd uncovered the plaque that marked the entrance to the remodeled hotel, dedicating the school to a long list of names, including Joyce and Tara. As the town began to file out of the church yard in couples and groups, he realized that he'd probably never be done mourning her, or any of the others.
He knew that he and Dawn would move on again, in only a few short hours. And he hoped desperately that this would be the last funeral they'd have to attend for a new found friend on their journey.
He put his arm around her and hugged her to his wet coat as her sobs slowly faded.
"Hey kiddo."
She looked up at him. Her nose was red from tears and cold.
"Let's go to Disney World."
She nodded and gave him a half-smile. "I hear its in the seventies down there."
Xander sighed. "Sounds fabulous."
end part three
tbc in The Scottish Play