December's Eve: The Novel

By Renzie

It is early December, 1963. Eve, the first woman, is back to set the stage for vengeance in a nasty attempt to destroy mankind for blaming sin and death on her. She is a beautiful woman, who will do anything to get what she wants, with the assistance of her breath-taking garden and The Tree of The Knowledge of Good and Evil. She is the only town midwife for miles and she delivers triplet boys who have been gifted, by God with different spiritual and physical talents which they must use in the end of the tale.

Eve mingles beauty, lies, theivery, lust, and pride to concoct the perfect dish for revengeMurder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 21, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450239530

Renzie

Yes, It’s me again, Lorenza “Renzie” Thompson, and this time I agreed with a few friends that it was time I let you in a little deeper and get more personal as I invite you inside my mind and the thought process that occurs when trying to share not just my journey, but our journey together. I’m still the same little shy boy, raised by an angel (Mom) who has been blessed throughout my life and given a gift that is also one of the tools to be used as I share what I believe to be my purpose in life. My writings! It is and has always been my intent and goal to inspire, motivate, encourage, uplift, enlighten, heal and the list goes on. It took me years to realize and understand that what I’ve been given is meant to help others on their journey. Sorry it took so long.

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Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Dedication

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This novel is dedicated to the people.

Acknowledgments

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Thank you, everyone, who helped me produce this novel.

Preface

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Early December, 1963, for some unknown, meticulous reason, the entire town appeared as though it had been swallowed by gloom and left to perish in the night. The faint lights in the small, tin–topped house were utterly flickering from an electrical storm that had blown through the night before, birthing earth, wind, and fire. The treacherous storm was so terribly severe, it was impossible for anyone to go out and see what was causing the lights to fade in and out. The house would appear fine and well–lit and suddenly the light would fade to a constant flicker as if it was dancing to the trill of a flute. After a few minutes, thunder crashed to the earth; lightening overshadowed the dark skies; and total darkness devoured every available crevice for miles and miles. There was no more flickering of the light—only darkness.

The town people would learn later that a huge oak tree had blown over and tackled the power lines along the water–soaked, gravel road which led into the doomed neighborhood. These were the only electrical lines, which allowed the only two lights in the neighborhood to burn, and they were out! When the lights were down in this part of the small town, sometimes it would take the power company days to repair them. This was the poor section of the county and it was treated as such. It was not winter but it seemed as though it was by the way the cold winds circled the wood–framed house. It was pouring rain one minute and seriously hailing the next. The hail was marble–sized and sounded like a band of snare drums as it pounded the tin roof of each house. Each gust of wind carried its own distinct, symphonic sound as if was playing an eerie song of some sort. The winds had a melodic rhythm to them and seemed to carry an unnatural message as they pushed against the small–framed house. It was late fall but it seemed like it was tornado season this one, particular night. Frantic screams of a woman in travail could be heard from the outside of the small, dimly–lit, 4–room house which sat in the midst of several other houses of the same style. Although the houses appeared to be similar from the outside, this one, meticulous house would soon release age old secrets which had been well–preserved for what was to soon come.

Most of these houses had a high, front porch which children often hid underneath while playing hide and seek. Sometimes, a bitch would hide her puppies under the porch to escape the curious, neighborhood children, who were always wanting to play with the newborns pups. Every other house had a small shed in the back yard, which usually housed tools, extra furniture, and fire wood. During the winter months, it was cheaper to burn wood than electric heat, plus, these smaller homes were not that hard to heat. Each house had a living room, which is where the husband and wife slept, if they had a big family. There were also 2 bed rooms, and a small kitchen at the back of each house. There were no hallways or doors to separate one room from another, only doorways. There was also a back porch, which spanned the width of the house. The potty room was another small, closet–size room built on the back of each house, which connected to the wooden porch. It had a white slop bucket that was used in place of a toilet and it had to be emptied and cleaned out daily. This room was also called an outhouse and everyone in this poor neighborhood had one. There was also a wringer–type washing machine on the back porch, which had an extension cord that was plugged in to a socket in the kitchen. Most people stretched the cord through the window in order to stop it from getting wet when they washed clothes. These huge, white, barreled–shaped, washing machines were so heavy that they often took three or four men to place them on the porch. One was lucky if they managed to find one on sale and with wheels on it. Others would just pay a neighbor to use theirs, especially if they didn’t have time to use a washboard, which could be time–consuming and wearing on one’s body.

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The two boys slept in one room and their little sister and her cousin slept in the other room. Each of the small, white houses had one or two trees on each side or the front—usually a Southern Maple, Magnolia, or an Oak Tree. There wasn’t a big backyard for the children to play in, only deserted corn fields and cotton fields which, were desolate this time of the year. The off–white, shot–houses neatly lined the narrow, gravel road from end to end. One end of the gravel road which housed black families, connected to the main street, which led deeper in to the small town. The other end of the road found its way to the old paved highway about 5 miles downhill, which led out of the mountains. There where two lakes in this small town, one was used as the town resort at the foothills of the mountain, which housed a nice marina. The pricey boats, restaurants, stores, and motel, which sat at the marina, were owned by the wealthy, white people. The other lake was nestled in the mountains and was surrounded by a very breathtaking garden, which was owned by a very well–to–do, single lady, who had lived in the town for years. Both of these nice lakes sat opposite to each other, along a highway, which ran through several counties by way of Double Lakes Highway—the only highway in the town.

A few low–income, black families quietly lived in this very small, isolated area with about 15 to 20 homes. A few older people managed to work a lifetime in the fields or chicken houses in order to pay for their half acre property. If the family owned a vehicle, it was usually parked in front of the house along the dirt curb. These were relatives and ancestors of the slaves which had worked in this rural town over one–hundred years beforehand.

The white families lived across the highway in neighborhoods, which had red, brick homes, smoothly–paved roads, beautiful gardens, and nice drive–ways which, sometimes, curved as they neared the lavish homes. There were even a few Georgian–style mansions and antebellum houses with either white picket or wrought iron fences in this area, which were owned by wealthy white people. They were the bread winners, who were in charge of the chicken houses where every one else worked once they were of the age of 14. The white people even owned most of the homes that the black families lived in. If something broke down or tore up at the home, the tenant was charged extra or had to pay another neighbor to repair the damages. It was cheaper to pay a neighbor; although, at times, this created problems when the work was deemed sub–standard, which in return, caused violent quarrels amongst the people. These families were related and often borrowed or bartered from each other. There were, on average, 3 children to each house. Some of the houses had more children than others. One or two of the families were complete with husband and wife—children, and even grandparents. The others had only one parent, which struggled to make ends meet—usually, the mother. The father had either run off with another woman—been jailed for stealing, chased out of the mountains by the Klan—or found floating in the lake at the bottom of the mountain. These were the ones who had been accused of having sexual relations with the young, white girls in town. Sometimes, these rumors were true, but most of the time…they were lies, which had been fabricated by a person who may have had a problem with the accused. The accuser knew once this vicious rumor reached the white people, there was no hope for the accused, black man; therefore, things were often untold.

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There were only two churches in the town. One church was more eye–catching than the other one because of the beautiful, stained–glass doors and windows. It was also made of dark, red bricks and wood, which had been painted white. It was a nice size church with a paved parking lot which sat along the highway. From the black settlement, one could clearly see the top of the steeple from any of the homes there. Every now and then, you could also hear the church bells ringing in the distance. This church was where the white people worshiped and blacks were not allowed on or near the property, with the exception of one. This church was even built by an all–white construction crew, which lived in the town. The other church, on the other hand, was small and had only one room which served as the sanctuary. This was an old house which had been gutted and made into a church by the black people. The black builders would often get a bug that a rich white person was building a house or working on the church and they would watch and gather the remaining materials, which had been thrown away, and use them on their church. It sat along the opposite end of the highway in the black settlement on a graveled lot, which became muddy after a good rain or storm. It had two windows on each side. Both churches had a cemetery on the church’s properties, which was where the town’s deceased were buried.

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Uncle Adam, go get Ms. Evelynn, a young girl yelled while lighting a candle. She’s the only woman in town that can deliver this baby…and grab some more fire wood because the wood burner’s almost out. Go through the field because the road is flooded—that’ll be quicker than taking the highway! She loudly yelled—trying to out–speak the boisterous thunder and rain.

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Catherine was the pregnant lady’s cousin and she was simply known by the town’s people as Cat. She was only twelve but everybody thought she was older because of the way she acted. She could cook, clean, and take care of children better than any mother ever could and she braided her own hair. She was over five feet tall with a dark, brown complexion. She was a very sassy, young lady that twisted about the house as if she owned it. Cat was what people back then would call too hot to trot. She thought she was a grown woman because she had been forced to grow up faster than other girls her age. She also baby sit for the other families when she wasn’t in school, but she never played with the other young girls. Cat felt like that other girls were mere children to her since she was helping Mrs. Jenny raise three small children. When she was no where to be found, she was usually grinning up in some old man’s face. She was quite swift–minded and knew the ropes. Cat’s mother, who was the town drunk, ran off with some man from Detroit, whom she had just met while Cat was still in diapers, so her cousin, Mrs. Jenny, took her in and was raising her. It was a difficult task, but Mrs. Jenny was used to it—having come from a large family. The next few years would prove to be haunting for Catherine, who had become accustomed to holding on to the painful resentment of her mother leaving her all alone.

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Mr. Adam was a slender, medium–complexioned, black man with short hair. He was about six feet tall. This was the pregnant lady’s husband. Everyone knew him as Mr. Adam. He was in his early 30s and was often criticized for marrying Ms. Jenny because she was more than 10 years younger than he was. Neither of the two let this worry them because he was good to her during their courtship and that’s all that really mattered to them—they were really in love. Plus…during that time, most of the older men would often find a young girl to father children by. He wasn’t the first and, most certainly, not the last. He was an extraordinarily, good–looking, and honest man who worked hard in the fields and at the chicken–house to provide for his family. He had been blessed with the skills of using his hands and could often be found working on a neighbor’s car, repairing a broken appliance, or building a shed for someone. He also made healthier bids than professionals in the area for the same services and was often fined by the town judge, Mr. Duncan, for doing jobs, which required a license, because he was taking money from the white contractor’s hands and they often complained about this. He was considered a jack-of-all-trades by those, who knew him because he took pride when he worked and made sure one was satisfied with the work. He also had a cheerful spirit and he always tried to do for people around him, even if they had no money to pay him. Many of the town people had taken Mr. Adam’s wonderful kindness for a weakness over the years and managed to get away without paying him for his services rendered. He always accepted this as a loss and continued to provide the best untrained services because he had a persistent knack and an unrelenting yearning to help those in need. This was ironic being that he was a poor man himself and was often in need of financial help in order to feed his family, which was continuing to grow. He had only an eighth grade education and had moved to the south in hopes of finding better work because he was tired of the living in the midst of the urban, high–rising, crime rate and didn’t want to become another statistic or raise his soon–to–be family in the big city.

Mrs. Jenny was just a young, silly girl when they met. They had been married 6 years and she’d already mothered three children for him; although, they were sexless until after they married. She was in her early twenties. Everybody could see the sign in her eyes, which read love at first sight, if she was smiling or not. She had waited for a good man to come along since she was different from her female cousins, who were known for having intimate relations with a few of the boys believed to be relatives. Mrs. Jenny was pregnant with what was to be the fourth child for a family who was barely able to feed the two, little boys and the baby girl they already had, who happened to be stair steps. Anytime children came along year after year, it was considered such. She managed to graduate from high school, but couldn’t find the time to take any vocational classes or go to college because she had to struggle with her children.

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The house was still pitch black because of the storm and Mr. Adam frantically shuffled around, in the dark as he tried to find his old, hand–me–down, army boots. He barely could see in front of him because of the total darkness—the moon had been covered by the dark, ominous clouds. There was only one candle lit and it was in the bedroom with his expecting wife. He forgot he had left his boots by the wood burner to dry. He carefully tipped across the floor—bumping his knee into the shaky, wooden, coffee table— and slid his bare feet inside the boots He tripped a few times as he looked around the house for his heavily–insulated rain coat—his cap, and his gloves. Once he found his old baseball cap, he put on his coat and flew out the door.

Lord, Lord, please let me make it over there and back in one piece, and please take care of my family while I’m gone, he prayed with a trembling voice as he ran through the empty corn field, which sat adjacent to a lake.

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All Mr. Adam could think of was his wife laying there screaming in the old, queen–sized bed, which had been put on the side of the road across town at the old county hospital, where blacks where not allowed. He eyed it one day while doing some handy work for this sweet, elderly, white woman and later that night, his cousin, who lived a few houses down the street from him, drove him in his old truck to get it. He needed a bed frame for his pregnant wife to sleep in because she was tired of sleeping on two mattresses on the floor and she was always complaining of back pain during this pregnancy. He tried his best to rush to Ms. Evelynn’s house, which was on the other side of the desolate lake and the muddy cornfield—quite a ways from his house. Fighting the cold winds and the heavy rains, he fell down a couple of times in the muddy field, but he didn’t allow that to stun him—he pushed onward. He knew in his mind that something could go wrong if he didn’t make it to her house quickly. She lived a good country mile away if one took the shortcut through the field by the lake; although, it seemed much further now. If one managed to make it to the lake, they could see Ms. Evelynn’s majestic garden—no matter what season it was. The trip by gravel road was further because of a very long curve, which lined the wooded area that sat along the highway. She even had a beautiful garden, which had a huge Oak tree, which sat in the midst of it. Strangely enough, her garden plentifully produced year round and; although it sat next to a lake, it was still considered weird. The town people had become accustomed to this weird attraction, which had become the best kept secret in this small, rural town. It was a great privilege to enjoy fresh vegetables, and fresh fruit year round—among other commodities. She had taught the town folk different herbal remedies for treating various ailments throughout time. This was very helpful in the community since the town doctor was known for doing great patchwork and wielding a pint of vodka in his pocket while administering medical aid to patients. Although, the people never did it in her face; they often, jokingly, referred to her as a witch doctor. She owned her lakefront property that her home sat on and during the warmer months, she would sit at the edge of the wooded lot, near Double Lakes Highway, and sell her fruit and vegetables to the locals and passer–bys. She never allowed anyone to step one foot in her garden because she felt they would taint or even poison her delightful delicacies. Her garden was her life! Everyone who ever passed by her property was quite intrigued by her breathtaking garden and her peaceful lake, which yielded plenty of fresh fish during the warmer months. She also had customers from other small towns in neighboring counties, who patronized her. She was well–to–do because of her fancy income, which was due to her ravishing garden. She was known to have the greenest thumb in town. No one knew where she came from; however, they knew she had always been there. She had lived in this small town longer than any other person there and she lived along the lake. Upon arriving there, she knew this lake was imperative for her garden to thrive. When asked of her past, she simply replied, I am a widow…my husband died years ago.

She was a tall, small–framed, light-complexioned, black lady with big, almond-shaped eyes and a very beautiful smile. She had a physique out of this world—to die for. She never wore make–up because she didn’t need it. She had wavy, black hair which, hung down her back that she usually wore in 2 Indian braids most of the time. She was intelligent—full of knowledge, and very well poised. She had a magnetic aroma which deeply entranced everyone she came in contact with. She was very beautiful and everyone seemed to be attracted to her because of her beauty; yet, they feared her—both black and white. Mrs. Evelynn was drop–dead gorgeous. She could speak on any subject thrown her way during a conversation, from politics to religion—having been educated in only the best universities in the world. She spoke several different languages and she spoke them fluently and articulately. The only time the town’s people ever saw her all dressed up was when a local passed away and she attended the funeral. As a matter of fact, they only saw her every now and then. She would always wear something beautiful, usually black or earth-colored, and she always had lovely jewels to match it—diamonds and other gems. People often wondered if her jewelry was real or costume, but they never asked or tried to take it from her. She was not a violent lady, but one couldn’t tell what a person of such style and intellect was capable of, especially if she was angered. She only left her home for one of two reasons—to attend a funeral or to deliver a baby. She was the only midwife for miles and miles. Although she had lived there longer than any body else—she never aged. She looked just as lovely and lively as she did when she