Free Deep in the Darkness by Michael Laimo Page A

would be at the window biting her nails, worried to death. I remembered thinking that she might've even panicked and called the Sheriff. But when I finally stumbled my way into the backyard, the windows were dark. I went into the house through the kitchen and found Rosy on the couch in front of the television, fast asleep; another ingredient in Old Lady Zellis's stew, I figured. This gave me the freedom to sneak up into the bathroom where I took a shower and bagged my bloody clothes for the garbage."
    "You never told Rosy, did you?" I asked, eyeing the bloodstains.
    "No, I didn't. I went to bed, and so did Rosy. No words were exchanged, she just pulled the sheets over her head and continued what she'd started on the couch. Me, I couldn't sleep. I laid in bed with my eyes closed, and a few times I felt myself nodding off but then I would flinch awake. It was as if someone or something had wanted me to stay awake. As if there was unfinished business to be had."
    "Probably the longest night of your life."
    Phillip laughed a bit. "That's an understatement. Eventually I crawled from bed and peered out the back window. There were fireflies in the backyard, and I thought that strange because it was October, and then I remembered Old Lady Zellis's eyes, how they glowed that golden color at the climax of the ritual she put me through. I looked outside again and saw the tiny lights fading back into the darkness of the woods, six or eight pairs of them.
    "So with the moon shining through the windows, I got dressed and headed downstairs. I opened every drawer in the kitchen in search for a flashlight—remember, we'd just moved in a week before so I still didn't know everything's proper place yet—and finally located it in the cabinet above the sink, which of course made a creak that the hounds of hell could've heard. It'd made me shudder and I listened to see if it had stirred Rosy from her sheep-counting, but thankfully all remained calm. Oh...I did know where the liquor was and I downed a couple of mouthfuls of bourbon before heading back outside; nothing like some good spirits to settle the soul. But, alas, it didn't seem to work that night. A couple of swigs and I was still scared to death, so I took the bottle with me when I went back into the woods.
    "The walk seemed to take forever, perhaps half the night. I didn't really know where I was going, and I'm certain I veered off track at times. But then I saw the lights of gold again, and they seemed to say, follow me , and follow them I did, back into the woods."
    Phillip's second mention of the gold lights in the woods reminded me that I'd seen them myself—and more than once: a few weeks ago while sitting at my desk, and then again later that night as I looked out my bedroom window. I'd written them off to fireflies. Jesus , I thought, my heart in my throat, not wanting to hear any more of this story that had become intimidating and significant. Could this tall tale he's telling me really be true?
    "I drank the bourbon as I went and caught myself a healthy crock, I even fell down a couple of times along the way; those roots are hard to see even in the daytime, much less past midnight. Eventually I got to the circle of stones and at first all was quiet. I shined the flashlight around and didn't see anything right away, but let me tell you that these woods here at night are just about the damn scariest place you'll ever want to be. Ain't nothing like the daytime with all its lovely fauna and scenic outlooks. The owls and birds call out from the trees in droves—weird sounding ones that you never hear during the day. And then there are animals moving around out there, jostling the copses and making you flinch every five or ten seconds. It doesn't matter much if the moon is full and the sky is cloudless, it gets darker than you can imagine here. And the bugs? Well, when it's dark and humid and sticky they crawl out of their holes in a mighty playful mood—you can hear them