When Devils Sing(28)
That relief never came. His wife grew gravely ill while the last of their food supply ran dangerously low, and then empty. They had nothing left to their names but their withering bodies, a shotgun, and two shells.
The legend goes that William ended his wife’s misery before turning the gun on himself, but he was unable to fire, as the shell was a dud. Bereft, he stumbled through the barren farmlands until he collapsed at a crossroads, where trade was once lively but had since died out. William cursed his Lord, angry that he couldn’t have the dignity of a quick death.
William prayed for his suffering to end.
But it wasn’t his God that answered.
It wasn’t long before he heard the grating caw of a corvid, its wings casting long shadows across the dry earth. A crow as dark as starless night landed before him, carrying something dull and rounded in its black talons. An offer in the form of a single shotgun shell.
William Langley’s fingers twitched toward the shell, longing to join his wife in the next life.
But he did not succumb to the creature’s offer. Instead, he shouted the bird away, cursing as it disappeared into the swollen blue sky above with the shell in tow.
The sun bore down on William as he lay in the dirt. If starvation didn’t kill him, sunstroke surely would’ve. But another creature appeared, a sharp hiss moving through the cropped, dead wire grass that bordered the crossroads.
A cottonmouth viper with mud-brown scales slithered toward William. Round and round the snake went, circling his body, drawing nearer with each lap. The snake stopped inches from William’s outstretched hand, going still as a statue and ready to strike. It waited for an answer, as if to say, One bite and your suffering will end. That’s all it would take. His fingers once again twitched, inching toward his death.
But William did not succumb to the creature’s offer. He swatted the snake away, watching it disappear into the dead wire grass from which it came.
It is said then, that when the sun had nearly set and was at the lowest point in the sky, a silhouette of a man appeared, far off in the distance, walking straight toward William Langley. His shadow was as long as the day, spreading behind him like the wings of a cicada.
The shadowed man knelt before William and said, “You have shown a great deal of strength, William Langley. You were not tempted by the proclivities of my brothers. For that, I shall help you.”
“Who are you?” asked William.
“Merely a man with a proposition,” the man replied. “If you feed me, then I shall feed you.”
But William insisted, “I have no food, sir. I haven’t eaten in weeks. My wife is dead. There is nothing left.”
“Ah,” the man said. “I don’t require crops, you see. Only flesh. If you bring me a warm body, I will bless your lands and your soil. As long as I am fed, you will live like a king for the rest of your days.”
And so, the story goes that William used the last of his strength to crawl back to his home. He carried his wife’s body to the crossroads. By the time he returned, he was so weak he could do nothing but collapse in a heap beside his wife’s corpse.
When he awoke, he found his wife’s bones laid neatly beside him, picked clean, as if by vultures. And standing at the crossroads now was not a man but a tree. A fully grown tree, overflowing with ripened peaches, ready to be picked.
And on that tree sat a cicada, screaming to the heavens.
In his journal, years later, William Langley would write, The cicada sang the most glorious song, more beautiful than anything my ears had ever encountered or have encountered since.
William devoured the peaches from the crossroads tree, regaining his strength. He carried his wife’s bones back to their farm and buried them in the earth. A storm appeared along the horizon. Rain returned and blessed the arid grounds. The next day, long-dead crops began to spring from the topsoil.
It wasn’t long before word spread that William Langley had been blessed by God. That he had healed the earth. Destitute farmers from far and wide flocked to the Langley land, begging for food, for water, for shelter. Langley fed them as best he could, but the food turned to ash in their mouths. Water ran dry in their throats. Roofs collapsed above their heads.
Langley returned to the crossroads, demanding answers from the shadowed man. He wanted to feed his people. To shelter them. To protect them. To give them a bountiful life, as he was promised.
The crossroads man appeared once more and simply said, “You know what I desire. If you feed me, then I shall feed you.”
And so, it began. With each family that sought refuge on the Langley land, William was forced to demand a sacrifice in flesh and blood.
Legend goes that after the thirteenth body was left at the crossroads, the man appeared once more and said, “No more, I am fed. But I will return in thirteen years’ time. Listen for the call of the cicada and know that I am coming.”
CHAPTER 9NEERA
“Mom, where are the car keys?”
Neera shook her mom’s shoulder. Kiran was sprawled on one of the twin beds in Room 4. She groaned something indiscernible in her sleep. After long shifts, her mom slept like the dead. Waking her was an impossible task. As a kid, it used to scare Neera, the way her mom would disappear into her body, dead to the world for what felt like days at a time.
And then, of course, there was the time Neera had needed her. Really needed her. The minutes Neera spent begging her to wake up had felt like hours—hours where she was completely alone.