Hidden Fear

Dont Look A Gift Horse In The Mouth

Momma always said, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Stockholm, Indiana. It felt so strange to be back here after so many years. The taxi slowed to a stop just a few inches from my grandmother's front yard. "Okay miss, we've arrived." I glanced out the window, the medium sized grey painted vintage home still looked the same as it did all those years ago. "How much do I owe you? ," I asked. The taxi drivers almost bald head titled in my direction. He reached his calloused grease-stained hand out,"350." I dug around in my purse and pulled out some cash, sliding it in his hand, I opened the door with my purse and duffel bag in tow. "Be careful now, some strange things been happening in this town." I whispered a polite thank you and closed the door.

I watched as the taxi drove off, back in the direction it had previously came. "Naomie? Is it really you?" I turned to the sound of my grandmother's soft voice. "Mawmaw Kezia! ," I dropped my duffel bag and purse on the concrete driveway and ran into her open arms. " Oh, my sweet child, I'm so glad you're here." She placed her soft wrinkled hands on each side of face and kissed my forehead. "Come, come. Let's get you settled in your room." I picked up my belongings and hurriedly followed her into the house. The scent of rosemary and lavender filled the air, I took a deep breath and sighed. Oh, how I missed this sweet smell. "Come now, your room is across from mine," my grandmother pointed to a freshly painted white bedroom door that was directly across from hers . "The bathroom is at the end of the hall," she added.

I nodded. She opened my bedroom door wide and held her arm out," You like?" The entire room smelled like fresh paint and a little bit of cinnamon. The large bay window had thick red curtains that matched the red cushioned bench against it. The queen size bed had freshly washed red sheets and a thick silky comforter. "I had it redone, just for you." I gave her a hug and kissed her cheek, "Thank you." My grandmother smiled. Turning away from the doorway, she clasped her hands in front of her and her large thick grey brows furrowed together in deep thought. "Is something wrong, Mawmaw? ," I worriedly asked. She waved her small, wrinkled hand, "No, no. It's nothing dear. Just lost in my thoughts. Happens to us old folks from time to time."

I unpacked the few items I was able to take with me from the duffel bag. I could hear my grandmother humming a melody from the kitchen and smell the exotic seasonings she was experimenting with. I stared at the rustic picture frame that laid a the bottom of the bag. It was the last family picture I had taken with my parents before their death. I placed the picture on top of the nightstand by the bed. I felt my back pocket buzz. Pulling my phone out I unlocked it and clicked on the 10 missed messages. "Just leave me alone, will you?" I mumbled to myself . "What was that, dear?" I looked up to see my grandmother wearing a red vintage apron with a white horse stitched on the corner standing on its hind legs and kicking at the air. For a split second I could have sworn the horse had blood dripping down its muzzle. "Oh nothing, Mawmaw. Just someone I'm trying to forget won't catch the hint."

I changed into a light blue sundress and a pair of white sneakers. I closed my bedroom door behind me and made my way to the kitchen. "Mmm, what smells so good," I licked my lips and took a seat at the round oak table . My grandmother smiled sweetly and sat a bowl of stew with a spoon on the placemat before me. "I made your favorite, buckeye potato stew." Mmm! "Thank you, Maw." She gave a slight nod and turned back to the stove. I lifted the spoon and stirred the meat and potatoes. Licking my lips, I lifted a spoonful to my mouth. It tasted so heavenly! I chewed the tender deer meat, the sensational flavors that danced on my tongue made my toes curl. That's strange, I don't remember the meat being slimy. I looked down at my second spoonful of stew and nearly vomited.

Once where there were chunks of venison and diced potatoes had now been replaced with eyeballs and tongues. I released my grip of the spoon; it landed on the floor with a clink. Covering my mouth with a napkin I quickly spit the stew back out. "Is something wrong, dear!?" My grandmother turned off the stove and hurried over to where I was hunched over trying my best not to vomit my guts up into the napkin. "Were the seasonings too strong?" she glanced over her shoulder at the rows of various plants and seeds, " Maybe I shouldn't have added an extra teaspoon of saffron." I patted her shoulder lightly and calmed myself. "It's alright, maybe I still have a little motion sickness from the long car ride here. It'll pass."