Southern Gothic and Other Stories

By Edward Norvell

A collection of short stories set mostly in piedmont North Carolina. Stories about the eccentric wife of a former movie star living on stories of the past in her crumbling mansion, a young man who murders his father, two sisters who protect themselves in a unique way from marauding soldiers during the Civil War, a woman who buries her husband in the back yard and grows flowers over his secret grave, and other tales told with a Gothic twist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Norvell
• Release date: Apr 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458001092

Edward Norvell

Ed Norvell lives with his wife in Salisbury, North Carolina. He has two grown children and is an attorney working for non-profit land trusts across the state of North Carolina. He and his wife own a house on Ocracoke Island which is their second home. He has published Ocracoke Between the Storms, Portsmouth, Spies, U-boats and Romance on the Outer Banks, Southport, a Story of Second Chances, Shadows, No Salt To Season, and two collections of short stories. He received his undergraduate degree from UNC-Chapel Hill, a masters degree in English and creative writing from the City University of New York, and his JD Degree from the Wake Forest University School of Law. He has also attended the Breadloaf Writer's Conference at Middlebury College, VT.

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Southern Gothic and Other Stories

A Collection of Short Stories by

by Edward P. Norvell

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Edward P. Norvell

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This novel is a fiction. Any reference to historical events; real people, living or dead or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

Southern Gothic

Could this be a part of him? Sadie thinks as she pulls a petal from the large peony in her hand. She watches the petal fall to the floor. Surely it must be. When the roots grow through the earth into his nose, ears, and mouth and as he becomes black and rotten and the worms spread him around, certainly little particles of his are pulled up into the plant ending up in these lovely moist petals. She picks another petal, holds it in the light and looks at the intricate webbing.

A piece of his mouth, the curl of his upper lip, tiny little parts of his eyes, grey green, even the color is so small that it is lost in the red of the flower. She pulls another blossom out of the arrangement. I wonder where this one grew from; his fingers, his hands, so big and clumsy, covered with thick black hair; or maybe his belly button or... she laughs.

A man with dark hair, ruddy cheeks and wearing a dark suit walks up behind her, holding a cigarette.

What are you doing? He asks, half chuckling. She turns around, looks at him then turns away.

Nothing.

She puts the flower back into the vase then bends over the arrangement to smell it. The muscles in Henry’s cheeks work furiously. Come on. He grabs her arm roughly. Let’s go. We’re late.

When they return from the party Henry walks into the parlor to pour a Bourbon and Sadie walks out the back door. The air is warm and humid. She smells the peonies and picks a few from the small rectangular garden by the kitchen door. She lies back in the hammock and swings. Looking at the half-moon, she begins to run the flower down the length of her body. She unsnaps her dress and reveals one of her breasts to the blueish light of the moon, then begins to circle it with the flowers until her nipples become erect. She pulls the dress up and runs the flowers down her thighs.

What part of you is here, Walter, your hands, your lips?

She moves her hands along her thighs, a film of sweat forms on her body. Henry opens the screen door, holding his bourbon.

Sadie? He eyes are slow to adjust to the dark. Where are you?

He hears her and sees her in the hammock.

"Sadie, what’s the matter with you?’ He pulls her dress down and picks up roughly by her shoulders and shakes her. Her hair is loose and her eyes look wild, they do not focus on Henry, but on some point beyond him.

Come inside. He pulls her out of the hammock roughly and leads her into the house.

He pours her a Bourbon and they talk in the parlor.

It has been a year since Walter disappeared. Henry said, lifting his glass. The inquiry has finally ended. I think it is time to toast Walter. Henry said with a wry, knowing smile.

To Walter, he said. May he rest in peace.

To Walter, Sadie said, lifting her glass as well.

After they finished their drinks, it is late and they decide to go to bed. Once in bed Sadie makes no sound until she hears Henry snoring then she leans over and slowly rolls the covers down. Henry is sleeping naked, he often does in the summer because of he heat; she never does.

He is so quiet, she thinks, as still as a root in the ground. The moon softens his features making them smooth and lovely. It is only when I lean closer that I can see the ugly wide pores, the grotesquely twisted hairs, and smell his body odor, mixed with the odor of tobacco. There’s the stubble on his face. He shaves twice a day, but that doesn’t keep it from growing at night. How it rips my face when he kisses me. How rough he is, how crudely he holds me, clawing at me like an animal, quitting when he’s had his way with me and falling asleep without any regard for my pleasure. I thought he would be so different from Walter, but he is no better. He may even be worse.

Henry opens his eyes. What are you looking at? He says.

You.

Why?

I’m admiring you.

He pulls the covers up.

Go to sleep, it’s late.

Yes, Henry.

How lovely he would be as a rose, she thinks, so soft and delicate. He wouldn’t have any of the roughness and crudeness. It will be a job though, roses are not easy to care for. I will have to prune him and keep the bugs off of him in the summer and pinch his blossoms off when they die. But how lovely he would look arranged in Grandmother’s crystal vase in the parlor.

Aaron

Tell that boy to shut up! Billy shouted.

Aaron’s harmless, mister. Don’t let him get to you, the bartender said, then he bent over the bar close to his customer, and whispered, He’s not right.

Aaron Koontz stood at the other end of the bar. In his mid-twenties, he wore a felt hat with a saw-toothed rim that stood up where the hat met his head. On the hat were buttons and pins of different sizes and colors, some were from old political campaigns, some were advertisements. He wore a long gray coat with political buttons on the lapel. His face was round with a double chin. When he spoke he stuttered, showing yellowed teeth, unnaturally large. His eyes sparkled and were deep blue. When he looked at you he seemed to look right through you like he wasn’t sure you were really there.

Two men, Ned, and Jacob, sat beside Aaron laughing and cupping their hands over their mouths and whispering behind his back so he couldn’t hear them. Aaron held a big roll of dollar bills tied with a rubber band that he waved in the air in the direction of the bar tender.

Bartender, get these fellows a round of drinks.

Ned and Jacob started to talk, swaying on their bar stools. Ned lightly punched Aaron on the shoulder. Aaron let out an inappropriately loud guffaw, as he sucked the air violently in and out.

Tell that boy to shut up, Billy, who sat at the other end of the bar, said. This time he looked at Aaron and his voice was louder and more agitated.

Ned, a tall lanky man with a stoop who looked to be in his mid-thirties, sat on one of the stools near Aaron. He got up and walked to the end of the bar. Calm down, Billy, Ned whispered.

You’re going to spoil everything me and Jacob is planning. You can listen to that fool for a few more minutes, just give me time to get my hands on his cash, he said. As soon as we convince him to get in the car with us we’re going to take him out in the country and roll him, he laughed. You just hold your horses and let me and Jacob get this show on the road.

Billy stared at Aaron and did not reply.

Ned smiled nervously and patted his friend on the shoulder. Okay? then he walked to his stool and sat down.

Aaron, tell us where does that rich uncle of yours keep all them horses, Ned asked.

Down at the river. In a big brick stable. He spread his arms in a sweeping motion. His head followed the movement of one of his hands. As big as that cemetery out there.

That cemetery? Jacob said pointing out the front window.

Yeah, as big as that cemetery. Aaron slowly raised his eyes to the ceiling where a beer sign turned slowly overhead with the face of a woman, with long blonde hair, smiling as she held a mug of Budweiser beer.

That’s pretty big. Must be about four or five acres. Why do you reckon he built himself a stable that big? Ned asked. He looked at Jacob and snickered.

I don’t know; I supposed he wanted to. He’s mighty rich. He lives in a big brick mansion on Jefferson Davis Avenue that has a swimming pool in the back yard with port holes in it, so when you walk under it you can see the people swimming.

Ned and Jacob laughed out loud and one of them said, Yeah he must be rich, Ned said. Hey Aaron, if your uncle’s so rich, why do you go around dressed in them raggedy clothes and wear them funny looking buttons.

Aaron looked at Ned and said Cause Momma don’t want me to wear nice clothes, says its a waste of money, clothes are, and I don’t like em anyway. So I wear my daddy’s coat and a hat I made for myself in high school.

Come on now Aaron, we know you never went to high school, Jacob said.

Did too!

Yeah, Jacob said. Probably special education classes where they teach you not to wet your pants, and by the time you graduate you’ve learned how to tie your shoes, he laughed. Aaron looked down at the floor and let his hand, holding an empty mug of beer, drop to his side.

Hey, Aaron how about taking us out to that horse farm of your uncles, Ned said. I bet he don’t even have a horse farm.

He does too, I’ll show you, Aaron said, straightening up in his seat.

Can you show it to us tonight, Aaron? Ned winked at Jacob. Me and Jacob, will take you in our car, how about that?

Aaron walked across the gravel parking lot in front of the bar and started to laugh again like he did inside, with the loud sucking noise.

You tell him to shut up or by God I’ll kill him, Billy said, turning to Jacob. The streetlight lit Billy’s face, showing lines of premature age, and a look in his eyes that frightened his younger companions.

Jacob keep him quiet, okay, Ned said.

Aaron got in the back seat with Jacob and slammed the door shut. Billy drove with Ned in the front seat. Ned turned around and asked Aaron, Now where’d you say that stable was?

Down Bringle Ferry road. I’ll show you.

Soon after driving through town they were on a windy black top road that was very narrow and dark.

How far out did you say it was? Ned, asked Aaron. Then he started to snicker and looked around at Jacob.

Oh its a lot further out than this. Its got to be far out from town cause it’s so big. They won’t let it be in too close, Aaron said, cause of the smell and the noise. My uncle’s so rich he could be governor if he wanted to. They even offered him the job once. He just put on his big white gentleman’s hat and rode off in his car. Said he didn’t have time for such trifles, Aaron began to laugh.

Billy, reached over, grabbed Ned’s leg, and dug his fingers into his flesh, I thought I told you to keep him quiet.

Ned shot a look at Jacob and Jacob said, Aaron you better keep quiet. It bothers Billy when you make noise when he’s driving. You don’t want him to get upset and drive us into a ditch now do you?

Oh no! Aaron said, lowering his head, puckering