The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Her dreams were lucid and clear, like treading through crystal water on a bright, sunny day. Lynnette could see for miles within the dark and quiet forest before she came to a waterfall that was heavily illuminated by the heavenly full moon. In all her unbridled nakedness she stepped onto the muddy walkway that led to the front of the falls and watched as the rushing water cascaded down in front of her. She, along with the falls was lit up by the moon's potent energy. She looked down at her hands and legs that appeared so smooth and weightless. Every time she moved it felt as if she were levitating across the logs on the ground and in front of the glistening falls.

Just as soon as she made it to the middle of the walkway, Lynnette could hear something right behind her. It was splashing about in the water and snarling. She turned around in a calm manner to see the beast lurking before her. Its glowing eyes and salivating fangs shined in the moon's light, and yet, as close as it drew, Lynnette couldn't find it within herself to be afraid. Instead of backing away she simply stood still in the middle of the walkway and watched with sullen eyes the creature stalk her down and growl as its hulking frame entered underneath the moonlight's awesome radiance.

"Shit!" Lynnette abruptly awoke from her evening rest.

In the darkness she gawked around to see Senada lying on a mat in the corner, while Cusha remained in her original Indian-Style position up against the wall fast asleep. Her head was lunged backwards to where all Lynnette could see was the woman's neck. Clearing the sweat away from her face and neck Lynnette got up from off the floor and listened as the rain tapped against the hut's grain. Still clothed in her skimpy, black skirt the woman got up and stood perfectly still in the middle of the floor. She listened as the two old women snored away in the night, as though they had no worries at all. Lynnette couldn't help but to stare down at Cusha in refined wonder. Within the woman's body was such a warm and familiar soul.

Upon any other occasion she would have been absolutely terrified of such an occurrence, or at least seized the advantage of sitting down and chatting with her about fond childhood remembrances. But Lynnette had no inkling of what was and was not real anymore. She cared no more about the past or the present, and as far as the future was concerned, what would happen would eventually happen. She knew that an end was drawing closer and closer with every passing day. It just ate away at her as to whose end would follow.

Lynnette couldn't tell if she wanted to care or not about her own life at that point. Yes, there was still Isaiah, but her will was rapidly depleting. Every so often she would consider his life without her being in it, and how much better off he could possibly be. But then again, as usual, there was Arthur.

Lynnette sulked within herself before turning and heading for the door. She carefully opened it and closed it before walking out into the tepid rain that fell so softly upon body. Her bare feet squished and slipped across the muddy ground before she came to the trail that led downwards. It was getting to the point where she couldn't tell whether it was Arthur or Isaac hunting her down. Just recalling Isaac's face was haunting enough, but knowing that his spirit could still be lingering about in the world always seemed to make her bones ache.

Ever since arriving in Jamaica she had managed to keep the memory of Isaac deep within the darkest corners of her mind. But she soon began to realize that there was always a cause and an effect. It was because of him that she was in the country at all. And then, there she was. No matter what, Lynnette could not cease thinking about him. Even when she was with Jose the man's image appeared in front of her. And just like Jose, Isaac was gone all over again.

Before she knew it, Lynnette had reached the very tip of the trail. There was no moon to speak of in the sky, nor were there any animals creeping about in the wilderness. It was just Lynnette standing in front of a still and smelly pond. She turned back to see darkness behind her. The fact that she had even left the hut in the middle of the night didn't seem to weight too fondly upon her. And yes, she was well aware that she was wide awake. Just as soon as the woman saw fit to reverse course and head back, within the water something began to bubble and stir. Unlike in her dreams, Lynnette was afraid, which was why she started to back away from the pond. At that juncture it could have been almost anything creeping up out of the water.

As she was about to turn and run away Lynnette spotted a form slowly lurk from out of the pond. It was a person, but their face was too dark to see clearly. Lynnette wanted to run but her legs had become immobile. Much like all of the ungodly happenings throughout the year, what was coming at her had to be witnessed with stunned eyes.

hidden by the veil of darkness. Soon, one by one there came more and more

the wretched

but without any words spoken amongst them they all exited the water and in a

dropped to the muddy ground

night; no one could tell any longer. Lynnette, a muddy mess from head to toe, sat on the floor limp and lifeless in front of Cusha who was steadily braiding the young woman's tough hair by candlelight inside the tiny hut. Lynnette's eyes were listless while her mouth endlessly hung open.

of my days in this world, dear." Cusha muttered as she twisted Lynnette's hair in a bunch. "Take the boat and go while you still can.

it not been

to the water. Take me to the water. Take me to the water to be baptized." Cusha gently sang above Lynnette's

"Isaac." Lynnette's

The woman's inert eyes had no focus or attention left inside of them. They were just there inside their respective sockets, along with the remainder of her body that hung like

as Cusha, from just a few feet back, watched with woeful eyes Lynnette on both knees in front of the pig pen. The young, broken woman had been there for hours, getting wet and blindly fiddling with the wandering swine that only enjoyed the frivolity of their

while getting soggier with every passing second. Lynnette appeared like a wet rodent at that stage. Her hair that Cusha had braided was falling apart, and her already tattered clothes were becoming mere shreds that just happened to barely be covering only private parts; the remaining portions of her body, like arms, legs and her feet were completely exposed to the elements. The woman was progressively becoming a part of the grim surroundings she had immersed herself in

that she was petting so gently and giving all the attention in the world to. She couldn't hear exactly what she was saying to the animals, but Cusha could tell that her words, though incoherent, were soothing, as if she were consoling a child of sorts. Cusha observed a little bit longer before eventually turning and heading back up the trail that led to Senada's hut. Even before she could make it to the front door Senada came out of the hut with her large butcher knife in hand and parka over her

trail, Senada said, "I take it