There was nothing around, not for miles, except a couple of decrepit old farm houses that at first glance could be mistaken for abandoned. Even those though, were few and far between. The fields stretched on for what seemed to be an eternity, with no fences or barns or even trees to break them up. Tired dirt was peppered with the remains of last year's corn and soybeans, and dead grassy ditches held what remained of the last snowfall. It was a bleak landscape, the kind that made you wonder what drove someone to live in such a place, and it stretched on for hours.
But if you were to drive the road that took you through the heart of Illinois, watching theendless, never changing scene that flashed by your window in a gray and brown blur, you would eventually come upon something decidedly out of place.
A line of twenty-six plaster and wooden horses paraded across the field, held up withiron fence stakes. They would have been beautiful at one time, when they were first made. But that time was long past, thirty, forty years ago, and now they only stared blankly across the fields in varying states of decay. The paint, once vibrant, had faded and chipped away. Posts tilted madly, driving one headfirst into the earth and another colliding into his brothers. If seen in a cheerier setting, perhaps their open mouths and wide eyes would have made them appear to be whinnying with joy at the chance to gallop freely across the flat prairies. But in the grey winter of Illinois, with the mist curling over broken corn skeletons and clouds threatening rain gathering overhead, their eyes seemed wild and they appeared to be screaming at some threat unseen.
If you continued, there was a small town to be found three miles down the road. The locals did not talk about the horses, or approach them. Travelers who inquired as to their history when they stopped at the gas station were met with strained laughs and simply told that no one knew how long they'd been there, and no one had the heart to remove them.
It was December 17th when Joe and Callie were making a small road trip from Wisconsin to visit Joe's Illinoisan relatives. Although it would have been more convenient to take the interstate in most cases, an unseasonal amount of construction work being done had led them to the decision to take the "scenic route" as Joe called it. Callie didn't exactly consider endless brown and gloom scenic, but Joe wasn't much fun to ride with when he was driving stressed, and the construction had had him a little road ragey.
"Joe honey, can't we pull over soon? I'm starving. And I have to pee, I probably shouldhave skipped that last coke," said Callie, doing a little dance in her seat. Joe didn't take his eyes off the road but handed her an empty bottle from beside him.
"Har-dee-har," said Callie, shooting him a glare. He looked over to her and cracked up.
"You're adorable when you act mad," he said, ruffling her hair.
"Yeah yeah, it's hilarious," she said, batting his hand away. "But I'm serious, it's been four hours since we last stopped, I'm getting stir crazy."
"Hey, I'd love to, but I don't know if you've noticed - we are in the absolute middle of nowhere. As soon as we come up on something we can stop."
Callie sighed and crossed her legs. Joe gave her a smile and squeezed her hand. She gave in and gave him a small smile of her own, and leaned over to put her head on his shoulder.
"Fine, I suppose that's fair. But make it fast. I could eat a horse."
It was not ten miles later when the tiny town appeared over the horizon. Town might have been a bit generous. Village was probably more accurate, although that still was pushing it. A small collection of houses in various states of disrepair clustered around the lone all-in-one gas station, coffee shop and general store. The streets appeared completely deserted as they rolled into town, and all the windows seemed dark. A slight breeze blew some loose trash down the empty street like urban tumbleweeds and a mangy dog dashed before their car to slink away into the safety of an alley.
"Well color me creeped," said Callie. "This place is...depressing. Maybe there's
another town a little bit down the way..."
Joe shook his head, pointing to the sign at the gas station that said NO GAS NEXT 50 MILES.
"Sorry babe, we're nearly out. I'll gas up quick, we can run in and pee, and we'll be out ofhere in a jiffy."
"Oh alright. I'm sure it's nothing. Whole place just feels kind of...off, is all." She glanced nervously out the window, and could have sworn she caught a glimpse of a child staring at her from one of the houses, but when she looked back there was nothing there.
Joe pulled up to the gas pump and hopped out to fill up the tank. He took out his credit card, attempting to find a place to swipe it when suddenly a man appeared at his side.
"Well howdy," he said, taking the pump from a surprised Joe. "You must be a stranger, never seen you in these parts! We's here is a bit traditional, I'm afraid, none of them fancy card readers here! But we pump the gas for ya, so it's not so bad! Now hows about you let me take care of your gas here and you get that little lady of yours inside for a bit of lunch. Mama makes up some of the best barbecue and apple pie you've ever had the pleasure of tastin’ in your life or I'll eat my hat!" Joe stammered for a second, attempting to tell the man he was fine, he'd just go pay and they'd be on their way, and don't eat your hat, that seems unsanitary. The man smiled with a mouth full of crooked teeth yellowed by years of tobacco use and laughed. "Cat got your tongue boy? Don't be shy, you head on up and some of Mama's sweet tea will help with that just fine. Can't take no for an answer! There's nothin’ around here for miles all around, so I know you two gotta be famished."
Joe decided that arguing was probably pointless with one so determined and thanked him, then walked over and knocked on Callie's door. She rolled the window down and jerked her head towards the man currently gassing up their car. "Who's Gomer Pyle over there?" she asked. "Works for the gas station it seems," said Joe. "I've gotta go inside to pay, and apparently this is our last chance for food for miles so if you want to come with me we can grab lunch."
Callie eyed the washed out storefront suspiciously. The wooden siding had chipping paint and the glass was cloudy from age. But the door had a friendly looking "Yes! We're Open!" sign hanging from it and there were cheerful red checkered curtains hanging in the windows, and she thought she could smell something delicious, so she shrugged and hopped out of the car.
"I've got to stop watching so many horror movies. Let's go then."
A rusty bell chimed as they pushed the warped door open. The sound seemed to echo in the silence of the little shop. Joe looked around at the shelves stocked with candies he hadn’t seen since the seventies and assorted baked snacks that were a day or forty over their expiration dates. There were three tables and a single booth to their right with coffee stained menus advertising Mama’s famous apple pie and bar-b-que, and a bar with five stools held a cash register and a silver bell to ring for service. Callie quickly made her way to the left towards a sign saying RESTROOM.
“Go ring the bell and find out about food, I’m not waiting a second longer.”
“Okay, hurry it up,” said Joe. He didn’t want to admit it to Callie, but he was beginning to feel a bit uneasy himself.
He walked across the room and stood awkwardly at the counter. In vain he waited for someone to appear, so reluctantly chimed the small bell. Again, the sound breaking the silence made him uneasy. Instantly he regretted hitting it and he silenced it beneath his hand.
“Well hello there!” said a friendly voice from behind him.
Joe jumped and attempted to appear calm before turning to face whoever had surprised him.
Before him stood an older, grandmotherly type. With a gingham dress and a white apron dusted with flour, her gray bun and glasses made it apparent almost instantly that this must be Mama. She smiled at him and grasped his hand tightly.
"Hello there!" she said again, bringing him over to sit at the counter. "I'm Mary, but you can call me Mama (everyone does), and you are just in time - I just pulled a pie out of the oven! What can I get you darlin'?"
Joe felt his fears subsiding. There was no way this little old lady could harm him and Callie.
"Well my wife and I were passing through and she ran to the restroom, I'll wait for her to come back..." he said, looking back to see if Callie had appeared yet. He was suddenly incredibly hungry. The unmistakable scent of apple pie was drifting from the kitchen and he could practically taste the bar-b-que already. At that moment, Callie rounded the bend and he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he thought, I'm absolutely starving.
Mama made her way over to Callie, faster than Callie would have imagined she could move, and took her hand.
"Welcome to Mama's!" she said, pulling Callie to the stool next to Joe. "Your husband was just waiting for you to order himself some lunch! I'm guessing you folks must be hungry if you've been driving through our little piece of nowhere here, so what can I get you?"
Callie resisted the urge to say "everything," though she suddenly found herself positively famished. Her stomach felt as if it were gnawing at itself for lack of better nourishment. Apparently breakfast was longer ago than I realized, she thought. She sat down at the counter and glanced over the menu.
"I'll take the bar-b-que pulled pork sandwich, some sweet potato fries, a glass of iced tea and what's your soup today?" she asked.
"Chicken dumpling dear!" Mama said.
"A cup of that too please. And a big slice of apple pie for dessert....do you have ice cream for that?" Callie asked. She suddenly felt self-conscious for her big order, which was way more food than she normally ate, but Joe was too engrossed in his own menu to notice any abnormality.
"Of course we do! And what about you sweetheart, what can I do you for?" Mama said, smiling sweetly over at Joe.
"Bar-b-que....french fries...that soup sounded good....sweet tea...want some fried mushrooms for an appetizer babe? Of course you do. Fried mushrooms, Mama, aaaand....apple pie. Might make it two, we'll have to see," he said, finally looking up from the menu. Mama gave him a big grin and took the menus.
"Looks like you folks are hungry! I bet you've been on the road for ages. Don't you worry! We'll have you fattened up soon enough!" She said, and headed to the kitchen laughing to herself softly.
Joe reached over and took Callie's hand.
"What do you think. Still creeped out?" he said, laughing as if he hadn't been creeped out himself.
"Shut up," she said, but she smiled. "No, I suppose not. You have to admit though, this place is kind of depressing."
"Fair enough," he said. "But a lot of Illinois is like this. These small towns and farms haven't done well recently. If every sad town full of down-on-their-luck farmers were populated by chainsaw killers there would be a higher rate of crime out here than Chicago."
"It's kind of sad, really," said Callie. "But despite all that, you have to admit those horses we saw back there were absolutely creepy."
"Okay now there I can agree with you," said Joe. "Those were just bizarre. There was nothing around them for miles; I wonder where they came from?"
"I don't know but they weirded me out. Like they didn't want us here."
Joe squeezed her hand. "Aw, I'll protect you from the scary horses!"
"Horses?" said Mama, appearing from the kitchen with a large pitcher of iced tea.
"Yeah, there were like twenty of them randomly in a field a few miles before town," said Joe. "What's the deal with that anyway?"
"Oh those," said Mama. She began to busy herself with filling glasses full of ice and tea. "Those are just some old farmer-long-gone's silly idea of decoration I suppose. No one really knows where they came from. They've been there longer than me! Which is saying something, because I'm not as young as I look."
Joe feigned shock. "You don't look a day over fifty ma'am," he said. She laughed at him.
"Oh son, aren't you just the charmer. No, I'm a year or two over fifty dear, but I suppose I have aged exceptionally well," she said. She laughed again, as if there were a joke only she was aware of.
Callie found herself again feeling a bit uneasy, though she couldn't pinpoint why. She shook the feeling, positive it was nothing. Mama was just a bit eccentric, that was all. She took a sip of her sweet tea and quickly felt her fears subside.
"Well I think you look lovely," said Callie. "I hope when I'm your age I look half as good as you!"
This only served to make Mama laugh more. "Oh honey, you've got a good long time before you ever have to worry about that!" she said. "Oh! Would you look at that, I'm sitting here gabbing and you're sitting here with no food. I'll be right back!" And she disappeared into the kitchen.
Lunch passed fairly uneventfully. Mama entertained them with stories of her childhood in the village, where she had grown up her entire life with her Welsh grandparents. Her great grandparents had come over to America with not much beyond the clothes on their back and what little money they had to their name. They settled in the village and began a farm, and her family had been there ever since.
"This place used to be the center of activity, though you can't tell now," she told them, sighing as she cleaned glasses behind the counter. "Our farm was one of the largest you know. Even in the thirties, when I was a little girl, the Depression never touched us. We came and made the land ours and we were gods."
An hour later, stuffed full of more food and pie and tea than either Joe or Callie would ever have eaten normally, Joe pulled his emergency $100 from his wallet. Standing up, he approached the register, when suddenly he felt his legs crumpling beneath him and his vision tunneling. The last thing he saw was Callie jumping from her stool to try and catch him, only to collapse beside him, bewildered.
Callie awoke to the sound of metal grating against stone somewhere above her. She blinked repeatedly, attempting to clear the spots from her eyes. Around her, the light flickered and cast long shadows over a dark room with chipping brick walls and a dirty floor. Attempting to sit up, she found herself bound tightly with rough rope across her chest, wrists and ankles that dug and burned at her skin when she attempted to move.
She stopped struggling, only moving her head carefully to the side. She attempted to calm her breathing, and in turn her heart, which was pounding so hard she could barely compose her thoughts. Attempting to call for Joe, she found her mouth dry and cottony.
Breathe, she thought. Breathe. She repeated this to herself as her panic mounted. This couldn't possibly be real. These kinds of things just didn't happen. But the pain felt real. The fear felt real. She swallowed, attempting to find her voice.
"...Joe?" Her whisper was met with silence. Callie felt the panic rising in her chest and she struggled to hold down a scream.
"Joe!" she whispered again, louder this time. "Joe honey, please!"
From the corner there was a moan. She strained her head up to look for the source, and nearly broke into tears when she saw Joe in the corner. Much like herself, he was strapped down to a rough wooden table which sat in a chalk circle filled with symbols she couldn't decipher. The candlelight made it difficult to make out what else hid in the shadows of the room, but she was positive it was nothing she would like.
Suddenly they heard the creak of wood from somewhere in the darkness, followed by the sound of footsteps on stairs. Callie quickly turned away from Joe and closed her eyes, attempting to slow her breathing back down and look natural. She didn't know who or what was coming for them, but she didn't think she wanted to face it until it was entirely necessary.
The steps slowed and Callie sensed someone standing over her. Panic again welled up in her, but she quickly shoved it down and focused on staying calm.
"Don't bother sweetheart," said a voice that was oddly familiar. "I know you're awake. I can hear that delicious heart of yours beating a mile a minute."
Callie inhaled sharply. Although she was now fooling no one, she could barely bring herself to open her eyes. It was as if some part of her thought maybe the hell she had woken up in would go away if she could only keep her eyes closed long enough
"You're going to have to open your eyes sometime," said the voice again. "I promise you, I'm not going away anytime soon."
Callie slowly opened her eyes and turned her head towards the voice. A woman stood over her - what age, she couldn't have guessed, for she had the features of someone younger and yet in her eyes there was a sense of many years' experiences. Long black hair fell over her shoulders and she was clad in a simple white dress with a plain leather belt at her waist. Her green eyes shone out against the pale white of her skin and danced with the fire of the candles all around her. Callie felt herself shiver looking into those eyes - for though they had fire and color they seemed to hold nothing but anger and ice.
"Who are you?” Callie asked. “What do you want with us? Please. Please, just let us go, I'm begging you.” The tears she had been fighting finally won, running down her face. The woman laughed and leaned in close to Callie. The woman reached a hand out and ran it over her slowly from her midriff to her lips. Gently cupping Callie's cheek, the woman brought her face close and whispered in her ear.
"You don't recognize me dearie? No ... I suppose you wouldn't in this form. Even then I doubt you know me. No one does. Which is a shame for you. Maybe if they did, we wouldn't be here right now."
The woman scratched suddenly down Callie's cheek, drawing blood, and with a flick of her tongue licked it off. Callie gasped.
"What the FUCK do you want?" she yelled. Fear made way for anger. If she was doomed to die at the hands of some psychopath, she would not accept her fate like a sheep led to slaughter.
“Callie? Babe? Did she hurt you?” Joe asked. “I swear, if you hurt her -”
The woman laughed. “What? You’ll kill me? I’ve got news for you sweetheart. Even if you weren’t currently tied to a table and completely incapacitated, fighting the effects of my magic in your system, and a pathetic mortal on top of all that, EVEN IF none of these things were true, I. Can’t. Die. So please. Save me your vows of vengeance. They’ll do you no good here.”
“What do you mean you can’t die? Don’t be ridiculous. Who the hell do you think you are, some god?” asked Joe. Like Callie, fear was quickly becoming displaced by anger. Keep her talking, he thought, find a way out.
“Funny you mention that,” said the woman. “Yes, that is exactly what I am.”
Callie was speechless. What could she mean? There was no way, absolutely no way that this woman was a -
“Goddess? Are you for fucking serious?” Joe said. He began to laugh, hysterics rising. “You’re telling me you have me strapped to a fucking table because you think you’re some fucking GODDESS?”
“Tsk, tsk Joseph. Watch your language in the presence of a lady. It is … unbecoming of you.”
“Oh, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry, my lady. And who, may I ask, do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”
The woman glared at Joe. The room suddenly felt cold, the candles flared, and in the firelight she appeared to grow.
“I have gone by many names. In my time I was beloved of many, beautiful, worshipped. I have been called Epona by the Romans, Rigantona by the Celts, Rhiannon by the Welsh... and Mama, by you.”
Bewildered, Callie strained against her bonds to look at the woman again. Before them, she was changing; her features appeared to melt quickly, aging before their eyes. And there, before them, stood the harmless little old lady who’d offered them apple pie.
Callie and Joe felt their anger quickly dissipating to be replaced again by fear. This was beyond anything they had imagined. Of all the possible scenarios either of them had imagined they were in, an honest-to-goodness Goddess was certainly the last.
Mama laughed at them and melted again into Epona.
“There. You see? Goddess. I was once great you know. Worshipped by many, I was the land and the land was me. A goddess of fertility. I gave the people fruitful harvest, they gave me food from their bounty and horses to serve me. I was beloved. Good. And then people stopped believing in me.”
“Do you know what happens to a god when no one believes in them? We STARVE. Gnawing, unappeased hunger. It hollows us out and burns us from the inside. Sure, a few of my most devoted remained. But when one has been worshipped by the full force of the Roman Empire, a few measly farmers hardly does the job! I clung to them though, brought here by their faith to this new land, a land of ‘opportunity.’ I helped them the best I could but the hunger, it grew, it became uncontrollable. To keep even their small tracts of land here profitable became a struggle. Pain such as mine, such as my existence, it burns the heart out of you.”
Epona fell silent for a moment. Genuine sadness came over her, and Callie thought she caught the flash of a single tear in her eye.
“I used to receive the fruits of my labors in tribute. Horses - my children - when times were good. But as the hunger became too much to bear, so their tributes ceased to be enough. There is only one thing to satisfy a God’s hunger when they have reached such an existence. Blood. Human, to be exact. One night a year, my feast has become red with it. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I truly do. How I have wished for the blessing of death, but alas, it is not afforded to me. I envy you, every sad mortal I’ve ever doomed to this. I wish nothing more than to trade with you. But that too, is not afforded to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I cannot starve.”
Approaching Joe, she took a long shining knife from a scabbard at her waist and placed a bowl on the table beside his head.
“Byddwch mewn heddwch,” she whispered in his ear, before quickly slashing his throat.
Callie screamed for him, but not for long before Epona silenced her too. She gathered the bowls and drank from them, blood trickling down her chin and staining her white dress. She looked down at herself, and sunk against the wall, weeping.