Phantoms by Jack Cady

Author:Jack Cady [Cady, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781630230043
Amazon: 1630230049
Barnesnoble: 1630230049
Publisher: Resurrection House
Published: 2015-01-22T05:00:00+00:00

Seven Sisters

I

In this worn town on the Washington coast, rain seeps through darkness and turns silver on fir needles when dawn rises gray as tired spirits. Rain washes thick clumps of black moss from decaying cedar roofs. On the edge of town stand the Seven Sisters; mansions once gay with lights and finery, now silent and nigh-lightless except when sounds of rain are overcome by sounds of weeping.

To understand Seven Sisters, one need know somewhat of the town. In the long ago, back in the 1890s, buildings along our main street rose elegant as Victorian architects could contrive. Turrets soared, ornamented. Lamplight gleamed through stained glass windows. Our wharves bustled with offloading of goods from the Far East, including bond slaves and opium. Money flowed with the abundance of rain.

Harlotry, shanghai, and murder were common. Yet, though many people died, at the time no specters were reported. It has taken a bit over a century for haunted figures to congregate in group portraits of anguish.

Some of us see these creatures during gray dawns, and in gray sunsets when black clouds cover the sky but leave a streak of blue along the horizon. As the sun sinks, and blue sky turns orange, long shadows cross our streets. Faces appear through mist, whorish faces, bookish faces, and a few young girls. Some of the faces seem fragmented, as if these spirits have pieces ripped away. Others hover and seem howling; their fear beyond our imagining, their gathering power a dread force.

And to further understand the town, one need know something of Gentleman Julian (‘King Julie’) Babcock who was a renegade religionist, a renegade showman, a business mogul, and a scamp. During the meetings of this town’s Historical Society (there are three of us, I, Peter Green, once haberdasher to gentlemen, and costumer; the barrister Jabez Johnson who once sat on the bench; and our female member, Catherine ‘Cat’ Peterson, actress, who in her age has become less scandalous) we find ourselves still musing over Gentleman Julie.

"A finer tomkitty never yowled from the top of a fence. A more randy hound pup never bayed at the moon." This from Cat who, though old, cannot help being beautiful, if bawdy. It is true she will not capture the eye of youth, but experienced men find themselves reassured. She proves to them that they could still make fools of themselves over a woman. Her silver hair gleams more brightly than our silver mist. Her face is creased rather than wrinkled, and her gray eyes are alight with potent life. She dresses in ornamental silks, long skirts sweeping to occasionally display a well-turned ankle. She remembers King Julie well, as do I and the Barrister.

"A silver tongue had Julie. He was a charmer. A spellbinder." The Barrister, like Julie, also strode the speaker’s platform in his day. He was once a powerful orator. "We can thank every star in the firmament that Julie never went into politics." The Barrister’ s voice seems bigger than his body. Age has shrunk him to a mite of a man, although he remains formal in dress.

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