The Red Door

One day, she stepped on a loose wooden floorboard in one of the little shacks furthest down the lane.  As the board tilted like a seesaw, she glimpsed something wrapped in a very old cloth and tied at both ends with some weathered string.  After carefully reaching down to grasp it, she blew away and brushed off as much of the dirt and dust as she could before unwrapping her new secret treasure.  The doll was made up of a dirty white kind of cloth, which covered wooden limbs.  The delicate creature seemed to have real hair on its head in beautiful black braids.  She had to bring this new discovery home so she quickly hid it away safely in her room upstairs as soon as she came in.  The next day Uncle Jasper had quietly stepped into her room to tell her to come to supper while she was creatively introducing her new toy to her other dolls.

“Marie Joanna La Laurie!” he shouted with a booming and frightening voice.  As he snatched the ancient doll from her grasp, he demanded, “Where did you find this evil, vile tool of the Devil?”

Marie stared wide-eyed with her heart frantically pulsating at the crazed man in her bedroom as she stammered, “Jus found it lyin’ outside yesterday when I was playin’.  I Promise!”

“Lyin’ outside where, Missy?  And you better tell me the truth, hear?  Or, I’ll be sure you get the switchin’ of ya life!” he threatened. 

Marie didn’t know what to say.  She had to tell him something he would believe or she’d get the switchin’ of her life just for telling the real truth of playing at the old shacks. “I found it out by them trees near the back where the woods start.  There was a dog playin’ with somethin’ and I threw a rock at him, so he ran off and dropped it!”   

It wasn’t good enough, apparently, as he ruthlessly snatched her up to stand by her tiny arm and demanded she show him the place.  Ol’ Leroy had seen the girl being dragged to the woods teary eyed by her Uncle, so he ran to tell the lady of the house, Meemaw.  Uncle Jasper was interrogating Marie while reaching to break a switch off of a nearby willow tree when Meemaw approached in her apron, wielding a greasy cast iron skillet and wearing a face that would make any man take a few steps back.

“You let loose that child now, Jasper!” was all she said.

It was all that needed to be said.  Marie ran to her Meemaw and slung both arms about her waist as she buried her face in her bosom. Since that day, Uncle Jasper would murmur twisted tales to her when they were in the parlor alone watching television.  He would speak about how the slaves in the old days were punished when they played with “Devil dolls” and the horrible things that were done to them in the cellar behind the red door.

“Some of them slaves, they didn’t come outta that cellar alive, chile.  You’re lucky you weren’t taken down there that day.  One of them slaves, they cursed this family and the spirits are still down in that cellar, and they’ll drive you mad if they can!” he’d say with wild laugh as she ran from the room to get away from his maddening stories.

*               *               *               *

Fifteen minutes had elapsed since the pitiful crying had begun that evening.  She had nearly finished the family history books and diaries after two monstrously long days.  The voodoo spells, the years of torture, Marie Lavean, the voodoo queen’s promise, and the slave’s curse--the curse that had plagued her family for over a century.  The stories she read of the cellar, the killings, and the madness that ensued from generation to generation.  Most confusing of all, the mystery of the emerald ring which Marie struggled to comprehend.  Her childhood memories of her mother’s resentment now were oddly integrated with new strange material strongly suggesting mystical powers only to the true heir of the jewel.

The child’s heart wrenching sobbing had gotten worse; she was tragically alone in this condemning house which made her skin crawl and her bones shiver uncontrollably.  Abruptly, she felt herself gliding involuntarily to the red door.  Before she could contemplate her state of mind, she was gripping the railing and was at the bottom of the stairs, staring in disbelief at the trails of dark blood bleeding from the walls.  The sobbing had been joined with sickening ear-splitting screaming.  Marie clutched the heirloom emerald ring in the palm of her hand, so tightly it began to pierce her skin.  She felt herself swoon and stagger as she chanted broken prayers while silently asking someone, anyone to save her from the pain and fear that enveloped her senses.  Something whispered into her ear to set it all afire.  She frantically glanced through clouded vision at every corner and object within site. 

Ol’ Leroy drove down the long path to the house with uneasiness as he didn’t like leaving Miss Marie alone.  He didn’t notice dirty streams of smoke escaping from the cellar vents until he was nearly to the house.  The old Dodge pickup sped then screeched to a halt within feet of the massive porch.  He raced from room to room calling out for her--she was nowhere in the house, but the old red cellar door was shut and locked.