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The Woman in the Front Yard

 

I woke up from a dream tonight. The light bleeding into the room around the corners of my blinds was weak and gray, and for a moment I was confused as to whether it was becoming day or night outside. The clock above my t.v. said it was seven o’clock, but that wasn’t really helpful. Sighing, I got up to look out at my front yard for some clue or sign.

The vinyl blind slipped out of my hand as I tugged it down, snapping up to the top of the window with an angry, rolling flutter. Stupid piece of fucking j…

There was a woman out in my front yard. Dressed in something that reminded me of a toga or something else they might have worn in Ancient Greece or Rome. Or kind of like what the Statue of Liberty wore, though this woman didn’t look much like the green giant.

No, this woman was beautiful—tall and muscular with long, golden hair and strong features that looked almost alien in their perfect asymmetry. I’d often had the same thought about runway models--they were made to look so different from normal people that I typically found it off-putting. But this woman…no, the strangeness of her beauty only enhanced its appeal. The grace of her movements as she paced across the yard, the solemn expression on her face as she stared resolutely forward, it all served to make her seem more real and more special. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to think of what to do. Should I go introduce myself to her? See if she needed help? I knew I must look a mess, but if I waited to clean up, she might be…

Wait.

Was she pulling a chain behind her?

She was. A black, heavy chain as thick as her arm trailed out behind her. I could tell by the way it drug along the ground that it was extremely heavy, but she walked on with it clenched casually in her left fist as though it weighed nothing at all. I felt the first flutter of unease stirring in my belly. Why was she out there? Who was she, and why was she dressed like that?

It was then that the chain scraped its way over the flagstone walk that led up to my front door. It gave me a three-foot window to see what she was dragging along without it being obscured by the tall grass. I watched the dark links glide across like the dull scales of some massive snake, and then…at the end of the chain, there was a large hook of jagged, silvery metal. All flat planes and sharp edges, the glow of my porch light made it glitter as it scraped across the walk and back into the grass on the other side. My mouth went dry as I stepped back and found my phone tangled up in my sheets.


“911. What’s your emergency?”

“I…um…There’s a woman in my front yard. She’s dressed funny. I mean, like she’s in a costume or something. Like a toga?”

“All right. What is she doing?”

“Um, she’s just walking around out there, I guess. I don’t know why she’s out there.”

“Does she appear to be injured or intoxicated?”

“I don’t think so? I don’t know. It’s getting dark, but I can still see her pretty good. But no, she doesn’t seem drunk or hurt that I can tell.”

“Do you know who this woman is?”

“What? No, of course not. Why would I call if I knew her?”

“Why did you call, sir?”

“Um, well, she’s like trespassing, right? And I don’t know. I just…oh shit! I didn’t tell you. She’s dragging a chain with a hook on it.”

“What?”

“I know this sounds weird, but she’s got a big fucking metal chain, right? And she’s dragging it behind her. It’s like ‘get over here!’, right? Though that was a spear I think. But when I saw that, it freaked me out. So I called.”

“Sir. Have you been drinking or using any controlled substances tonight?”

“What? No. I just woke up.”

“I see. So is it possible this was all part of some dream?”

“No! Look….Just a second. Yeah, okay no, she’s still out there. I’m wide awake, I’m sober, and I’m talking to you. And I fucking see her out there. She’s just walking…Oh shit. She just stopped and is looking at me. Fuck, I can hear her now. She’s humming. I can feel it through the window.”

“What does it sound like?”

“What does it…fuck, how do I know, man? It sounds like humming…I, fuck I don’t feel right. Look, get someone over here now, okay? I need help. I need help getting rid of her.”

“Getting rid of her? Why would you want to do that?”

“What? What the fuck do…look, I want to talk to someone else. Not trying to be rude, but you’re fucking weird, man, and you’re shit at your job. I want a supervisor or the police or something.”

“Hello?”

“Hello?”


I looked back out the window and saw that the woman had moved over to the tree in the far corner of the yard. My mom said my great-grandfather had planted that tree over a century ago, and all these years later, even its smallest branches ran thick and stretched wide. It was on one of the lowest of these that the woman secured her chain, the glimmering hook twisting in the air and sending out twinkles of light across the yard.

As for the woman herself, she’d turned back to me, her arms lifted in invitation or offering. I felt things stirring in me. I wanted to go to her. To be with her. To do what would please her, even if it meant something terrible. That strange, melodic humming noise kept rolling through me, each wave washing away more of my resolve and my fear. Soon enough I would just go on out. Give her what I wanted…what she wanted…what…I suddenly jumped as a hissing child’s voice sprang out of the phone still dangling in my hand.

“Yesss…Give her your flesh as a token of your worship. It’s the least you can do for the honor she bestows upon you.”

I dropped the phone, staring at it like a snake as I backed out of the room. I just needed to think for a minute. Maybe I should go outside, but that seemed wrong, so if I could just think, if the humming would just stop for a minute and I could think…

The humming fell away.

As silence rushed back in, I felt her eyes on me, inside me. When I turned to the closest window, I felt little surprise that she was standing near the house now, looking at me with a sad longing that broke the last of me. She was so hungry and so giving and I should be ashamed for hesitating to give all that I had to her. I rushed to open the front door, but she stopped me without moving or uttering a word.

Not yet. First I had to write this account. The record would act as a witness, and the witnessing was a powerful part of these things. Every person that sees will feed her a little. Every thought and belief will bring her back a bit of her old glory.

Of the times when she was known as the Spring Mother. The Lady in Waiting. The Lover. A thing to be loved and feared, but above all, a thing to be fed.

It had been so long for her. I try not to cry as I write this last, but I feel so sorry for what she’s endured. I try to not rush these words, but I’m so anxious to run to her.

I know that when I do, she will sweep me up in her soft, strong arms and gently place me on what they once called the Silver Cradle. She will crawl beneath and open herself wide, not letting a single drop go to waste. I know all of this because she knows this. Because she wants me to know what is to come and share in the beauty of it all.

And oh, it will be so beautiful.

I have to stop here. I’m trembling too much. I have to go to her now. Thank you for reading this. For helping make my offering, my life, mean something in service to her.

It’s such a blessing. I don…Such…a blessing.

 

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