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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Listening to Mother Die
Fear traced through her mind as she crouched behind barrels of apples in the cellar behind her log cabin. Indians had raided Dillfred just after sundown. From above her she could hear the kill cries and the screams of her neighbors. It felt like she had been down here for hours. Bethany and her mother were running for the safety of the cellar and she heard her mother call to her.
“Don’t Stop Beth. Go! Go Fast!” Gretchen had called.
Then she heard her mother’s blood curdling scream as one of the savages grabbed her by her auburn hair. Bethany knew her mother was dead. Scalped right behind her. I just left her to die. I did not try to help her. She cried as she hid in her corner. She did not know where her father and brothers were. Are they still alive? The smell of smoke lingered through the wooden cellar door.
“Please merciful lord, protect Dillfred from this attack, please have mercy on my sweet mother’s soul. She did not deserve to leave this world this way.” Bethany cried into her hands.
The squeak of the cellar door opening sent panic coursing through her brain as she clutched the pistol her mother had shoved into her hands as they ran out the door. Peeking between the barrels she was squeezed behind she saw two indians scanning the small space. Holding her breath, as she watched them, she thought she was going to lose her consciousness. A loud cry rang out and the two man ran up the stairs. Bethany let out her breath in a large sigh. The shooting stopped. The savage’s calls had disappeared. Was it finally over? Pulling herself up from her corner she slowly moved towards the steps of the cellar. Once she reached the top of the stairs she gasped. Four houses were burning and there were people lying on the ground either wounded or dead. Then her eyes rested on the pale purple dress her mother had been wearing that day. Racing over to her, Bethany screamed seeing the large gash on top of Gretchen’s head. Kneeling in front of her she wrapped her arms around her corpse sobbing like a child.
“Oh Mother. I am so sorry.” She sobbed.
“Don’t Stop Beth. Go! Go Fast!” Gretchen had called.
Then she heard her mother’s blood curdling scream as one of the savages grabbed her by her auburn hair. Bethany knew her mother was dead. Scalped right behind her. I just left her to die. I did not try to help her. She cried as she hid in her corner. She did not know where her father and brothers were. Are they still alive? The smell of smoke lingered through the wooden cellar door.
“Please merciful lord, protect Dillfred from this attack, please have mercy on my sweet mother’s soul. She did not deserve to leave this world this way.” Bethany cried into her hands.
The squeak of the cellar door opening sent panic coursing through her brain as she clutched the pistol her mother had shoved into her hands as they ran out the door. Peeking between the barrels she was squeezed behind she saw two indians scanning the small space. Holding her breath, as she watched them, she thought she was going to lose her consciousness. A loud cry rang out and the two man ran up the stairs. Bethany let out her breath in a large sigh. The shooting stopped. The savage’s calls had disappeared. Was it finally over? Pulling herself up from her corner she slowly moved towards the steps of the cellar. Once she reached the top of the stairs she gasped. Four houses were burning and there were people lying on the ground either wounded or dead. Then her eyes rested on the pale purple dress her mother had been wearing that day. Racing over to her, Bethany screamed seeing the large gash on top of Gretchen’s head. Kneeling in front of her she wrapped her arms around her corpse sobbing like a child.
“Oh Mother. I am so sorry.” She sobbed.
Published 24th Jun 2022
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25th Jun 2022 00:16am
25th Jun 2022 1:15am
3rd Apr 2023 10:03am
A vivid period piece, from the frontiers days. A good historical novel type short story at seeing her own close relative a victim of scalping.
