The Night The Church Burned

Every June 17, I can't help being thinking about the horrible night that my home church burned. Not just mine; there were 19 others that burned as well. At least that many. My church was Mt. Zion Methodist. It was summertime, the hot season. I remember it well. In some ways, it's like yesterday. Time stands still, about some things. Especially here in Mississippi. That night, Mississippi was ablaze. Folks not from here stoked an already roaring fire True, they got burned by it, but a lot of us here did too. It was just them getting burned that seemed to make it important. 
My name is Rose, and I am one of the remaining churchgoers who were attacked that fiery night, by narrow-minded men filled with hate and fear. But they wanted US to be afraid.
They were men of power, at least here. The sheriff, the bank president, a minister or two; those who owned and ran the town. We all knew who they were, even as they hid behind white masks. 
It wasn't any different than any other church gathering,, for most of us. We were here to celebrate, and to sing, and to give thanks and worship. 
We had heard that a special guest of some kind or other hadn't shown up. But there wasn't really time to give much thought to that, because in what seemed like a flash, windows were being broken by flaming torches thrown thru them. We heard gunshots, men yelling. We scattered, trying to get out of the old church building before it was engulfed in flames. The smell of burning flesh, people screaming as they were set on fire. The men who attacked us, they actually grabbed church members, doused them in gasoline and struck a match to them. Some of them actually laughed about doing it. They hurled racial slurs at us while they did it. I myself am glad that I will never understand the kind of person who could do that. 
I was blessed, myself, that I only had a burned arm and leg, a few cuts and bruises, at least as far as physical wounds go. But I lost family and friends in the fire. There isn't a price tag you can put on the cost of that. 
Over that night, the whole church burned to the ground. It smouldered for days. 
It was only later that we learned that there were other churches that were done like we were, too. 
Freedom Summer, that's what they call that summer of 1964, now. That, and some project or other. 
I forget the name....but I'll never forget the summer, long as I live.

The Day The Booms Happened

 I will never forget it as long as I live. It's actually been fifty years now. I just can't believe it. Neither can my older sister, Hattie. Woodbine is having a remembrance ceremony this year, and those of us who are eyewitnesses are going to give our personal accounts of what we saw and felt that horrible day. By the way, my name is Melissa. On the day it happened, a Wednesday in 1971, I was a 16 year old, working as kitchen help in a local diner. We were starting to get busy, as the lunch crowd was coming in. It seemed like just another day, until the first boom happened. It was at 10:53 am. The sound was loud and startling enough that it silenced the entire cafe in a second. I could feel the vibration from the force of the first boom. At first, no one got up from the tables, or said anything. Then the second boom happened. It was horrible, because then we all knew that whatever was happening wasn't over yet. People, the men, mostly, started getting up to leave the diner to see what was going on. I was still in the kitchen, trying to concentrate on my job. By the time the third boom happened, most of us, customers and help alike, were headed towards the cafe door. At this point, I hadn't heard a single person say anything about what might be causing the booms. We all knew that whatever it was, it wasn't fireworks. It also wasn't anything good. 

I kind of froze for a moment, right there in the street in front of the cafe. It was because it had dawned on me the direction that the explosions had come from. Hattie! I told myself that it couldn't possibly be that! But all the same, I put on my worn straw hat , with the calico ties, and started off down the road with the others that had left the cafe. 
My sister Hattie was 19, then, and a single mother. She had a toddler daughter, now. She had gotten a job some months back at a chemical plant here in Woodbine. She worked in a plant that made magnesium flares. She said she was told that it was to help the war effort in Vietnam. I remember that she'd been tickled pink over getting that job. It was better hours and better pay than any job around here, at least for people like us. She didn't really say too much else about it, at the time. The jobs at that plant were considered plum jobs; everyone said so, then. Looking back to that time now,  those of us who are still here in Woodbine see how wrong we were.
Before we could get very far towards the plant itself, we were stopped by law enforcement. There was a huge fire, they said, and they were trying to put it out, as well as help any survivors. The first count of dead was 24, which was quickly upped to 35. That was actual dead; there was not even an estimate given at all about how many people were injured. 
At this point, all I could do was hope that my sister Hattie was alive. 
I stayed right there in the road where they made us stop and wait for hours. I wasn't about to leave until I heard something about Hattie. 
We could see smoke and haze everywhere, saw planes flying around, heard distress sirens. In all that time, we heard nothing about any survivors. 
No death toll was given past 35, but we all knew that it was higher than that now. 
Time passed slowly, standing there and waiting, that day. I worried about Hattie, and my other relatives and friends that worked at that plant. I worried about Hattie's little girl, Ellen, who would be an orphan if anything happened to her mother. 
I tried to think the best, but it was real hard, right then.
Finally, at about 4 o'clock that afternoon, we were told about the explosion at the plant that Hattie worked in. It had destroyed the building. All survivors were at a local hospital, with limited resources, at best. 
My sister was one of those, a survivor, I eventually learned. She was severely burned, and her painful injuries took a long time to heal from, but she did. My family felt fortunate to still have her with us. Others weren't so lucky. 
Hattie wants to attend the 50 year remembrance ceremony, but she wants me to tell our story. She never really will talk to people about it. Can't really say that I blame her. So I will tell my account of the day that the booms happened, for both of us.

 (FYI: I had written this for a flash fiction contest, but even after I paid the entry fee, they didn't accept it as an entry, so I wanted to post it on my blog. I hope any readers enjoy. )

Sapphire the Snow Vixen

Sapphire was made out of Scottish Highlands snow, just before Hogmanay. She had wisps of Heather and Thistle tucked into her snowy head, along with two cerulean stones for her eyes; a piece of ebony coal for her nose. She was Winter Solstice and Yule and Hogmanay and The New Year all in one, come to life. She was the stuff of Scottish myth and legend; very few , mostly those with The Sight, actually knew that she existed. Morgana was one of those.

Morgana had been ostracized from the Scottish village that she had grown up in, branded as a witch. The villagers didn't like her different ways, and the fact that she seemed to know things that they thought she shouldn't. 

Morgana was still adjusting and adding comfort to the mountain cabin in which she had solace and invisibility from the aforementioned village. One morning, while she was foraging out by the frozen lake, in the cold winter morning air, she came across small footprints in the snow. The imprints made glistened with blue light, and Morgana's eyes lit up, for she knew who had made them. 

She returned to her cabin, where the fire she had built earlier was now burning warmly, and fixed a plate with lavender shortbread and heather honey, and poured a cup of juniper and mint wine. She returned to the pond, and placed the plate and cup near the shimmering blue footprints as an offering. Then she pulled her cloak around her against the cold wind, and returned to her warm cabin. 

Later that day, just  before the sun was going to begin setting, Morgana went out again, this time for some snow, as she wanted to cool some wine, fruit, and cheese for herself for dinner later. To her delight, she found the empty cup and plate where she had left them, with fresh blue footprints. She smiled to herself, filled the cup with freshly fallen snow, and returned to her cabin. 

For the next couple of mornings, she repeated the shortbread, honey, and wine offering that she left by the frozen lake, and returned each afternoon to find the empty cup and plate, along with fresh blue footprints along the lake. 

Morgana looked in her book of shadows for the information that she sought, mostly as confirmation that her visitor was who she already innately knew she was. She sipped some spiced  pomegranate wine that she had heated with one of the pokers that she stoked fires with to warm the cabin. Her throat was parched and raw, and she had a dry cough, and a slight fever, and the wine soothed her. Hopefully it would ease the cough so that she could sleep during the night. 

Morgana's fever raged during the night, and she slept fitfully, her slender body covered in perspiration. She saw fire in her dreams, heard it crackling as it burned, and felt its warmth. Comforting warmth; it did not burn, or even touch her. 

She saw Sapphire in her fevered dreams, but not a Sapphire made of snow, coal and heather. This Sapphire had sloe-black hair, deep sapphire blue eyes, and alabaster skin. She was clad in a gown of deep blue velvet a shade darker than her eyes, with a satin-lined cloak pulled around her, made from the same material as the gown. Sapphire earrings studded each earlobe, and blue flames flew from them as the candlelight hit them. She was quite stunning to behold, and Morgana was in awe of her.

She came over and laid a cool, delicate hand on Morgana's hot forehead. She left it there for a short time, slowly drawing the fever from Morgana's body. 

"Thank you", Morgana murmured softly to Sapphire, as she slowly drifted away in a now peaceful slumber. 

Morgana slept for several hours; it was late into the next morning when she awakened. When she arose from her bed, intending to prepare some warm tea, she found the blue satin and velvet cloak in a chair near the fireplace, along with a bouquet of dried heather.

She felt blessed and honored, for indeed she was. 

 

Passing the Torch

Morgana dressed carefully, for Merlin had summoned her, for what he had implied would be a momentous occasion. She chose the finest gown that she owned; nothing less would do now. When at last she was dressed and surveyed her appearance by candlelight in the mirror, she made quite a noticable figure. Midnight tresses and sloe eyes to match, alabaster skin, her body clad in plush, shimmering black velvet. The gown itself had a square neckline, and was studded with tiny diamond and pearls. She wore a pearl and diamond pendant, with matching miniature earrings. Her feet were encased in black velvet slippers with black satin heels, and there was a pearl solitaire ring on her right hand. She dabbed a bit of her exquisite rose attar on each wrist, and at the base of her throat. She smiled at her reflection. 
She reached for her black velvet cloak, and drew its thick folds around her, blew out the candle, and left to meet Merlin at the edge of the dark forest, near his cave, as he'd requested. Her black cat, Ceri, followed at her side.
She walked slowly, and it took her a short while, even though the distance really wasn't that far. 
There was a break in the clouds, and there in the moonlight, she saw Merlin waiting for her. Even though all she could see was his shadow, she knew it was him. 
She and Ceri finally reached him, and she looked up at him, and touched her cheek against his lightly. 
"Croeso, Morgana.", Merlin said softly. He touched her dark hair, and breathed in her rose perfume. 
Morgana smiled up into Merlin's eyes, and it was the last thing that she knew.
The next morning, Arthur's soldiers found a burned out torch and Morgana's black clock, with her signature pearl ring. No trace of the Lady Morgana and her familiar, Ceri, could be found. For that matter, neither could Merlin.

Midnight Session: Installment Three

 “Oh, I’m paying attention all right, Samantha.” Jason said ,squeezing her breasts. "“With a body like this I can see how you were able to get close enough to a person to become so successful in your former profession.”

"Former profession?? How's that, Jason?", Samantha queried, even as she squirmed while he massaged her breasts. "There's nothing former about it.", she assured him. "I don't know where you could have gotten that idea."

"So....did you still want your men to search me? I thought you might want to do it for yourself."

“Oh, come on now,Samantha. There's really no need for such pretense between us.”, Jason said. “Everybody in my 99 knows that you were one of the top hit people in Alex's 77. Word on the street is that it was true until Alex decided you were more valuable elsewhere....like in his bed.”  Jason paused, then added, “However, we can discuss that later.”

"Alright, Jason.....if you'd like.", Samantha agreed.

He reached for the zipper at the back of her  plush green dress and began to slowly pull it down. “All that talk about you wanting me to search you has got me wanting to take you up on the offer.”

Midnight Session: Installment Two

 Oh, I don’t think I need to do that Samantha” he laughed. “If you had had so much as a penknife on you, you wouldn’t be standing here now “He gestured her to go and sit down.

“So why did you take the risk of coming here ?”, Jason asked. 

Samantha could tell from his expression that he was truly puzzled by her appearance.

She slowly lowered herself into the chair that Jason had motioned towards ...she took a deep breath, and a minute to think about what she was going to answer.

Her sharp emerald eyes met his, and she said softly, "Self-preservation".

Her eyes flickered, making them look a shade darker, and she added, "Sure you don't want to search for yourself, Jason,? For the weapon, I mean."

“Well,I suppose I could call the guys in and tell them to search you again in front of me, Samantha” he said. “I’m sure they would do a thorough search, exploring all the possible hiding places” he added, giving her a sardonic grin.

Samantha gave him the hint of a frosty smile, although the light of it never reached her emerald eyes. 

She nodded, and agreed, "I suppose you could do that, if you want to, Jason ......but I promise you that I carry no conventional weapons anywhere on me.  Search all you like."

Jason walked behind her chair and reached down to cup her breasts.

“Perhaps not conventional weapons, sweet  Samantha” he murmured in her ear,  squeezing her nipples “but these could cause a lot of problems if a guy wasn’t paying attention.”

Samantha squirmed a little in her chair; just enough so that her breasts were pressed more firmly within his grasp.

"Really, Jason??", she asked in a soft voice. "You honestly think that I could cause trouble for you?"

She laughed lightly, adding, "Are you paying attention, Jason?"

Midnight Session: Installment One

Jason Masters had heard back from his lieutenants that the raid on his rival's home had been successful and his bitter rival and several of his men had been killed.

Unfortunately the man's mistress, Samantha Monroe, was not with him

 at the time and her whereabouts were unknown.

He instructed his men to find her as soon as possible.

Samantha Monroe knew that there was a price on her head. She knew better than to run immediately, as undoubtedly Jason Masters and his men would have any exit routes monitored, if not blocked, already....most likely that was in place before the hit occurred. 

Samantha decided on an unusual course of action: actually having the courage to go to Jason herself ....rather than having his men drag her there. 

She selected a form-fitting emerald green velvet dress, and matching green stilettos. She felt that it showed all of her assets off beautifully. The color of her shirt dress darkened her eyes to emerald, and called attention to her burnished auburn tresses. Her only jewelry was a pair of tiny emerald and gold stud earrings. She wrapped an elegant, hooded black velvet clock, lined with emerald satin, around her. 

Standing at Jason Masters' front door, Samantha Monroe took a deep breath, then rang the doorbell. 

Jason heard the doorbell as he was working on his computer and quickly switched to the security camera feed in his office. He stared at the screen with amazement when he saw Samantha standing there.

 

Obviously his security detail would have stopped her and searched her before they let her pass. He was just surprised they hadn’t escorted her to the door.

He opened the door on the chain and saw one of his men standing at the side.

Taking the chain off, he opened the door wider, nodded to the man, then invited Samantha inside. He even stepped slightly aside, so that she could enter the room.

 

“Well, Miss Monroe, you took a chance by coming here. You do not lack courage."” he said. “You are fortunate to still be among the living. I gave orders to shoot on sight. I'll have to speak with my men about just exactly why that command wasn't honored, later."

He let his eyes roam over her body appreciatively. "But I can see, in this case, why they hesitated."

 

“I assume they searched you before they brought you to my office door ?” ,Jason said, as his dark eyes flickered at her.

Samantha's lips curved in the hint of a smile. "I imagine they did, Jason. ", she said softly. "Why don't you search for yourself? Maybe they weren't thorough enough to suit you."

To be continued.......