The World as it was Back Then

By David Bowlin

As far as I know, there was only one person that ever escaped the wrath of invading Blue Jim's privacy, and that poor soul will never be the same again. Perhaps he didn't escape after all; he was, though, the only one who lived.

Perhaps I should give you a bit of background about Blue Jim. For instance, he was a farmer of sorts, and lived alone out in the western part of our small county. He preferred not to have any visitors at all, but on occasion he did have the minister out to his place for reasons of his own. His nickname, Blue Jim, was widely known and used, even to his face. He earned the name, you might say, because his lips were always blue, like he was freezin' cold. Blue Jim was a good man, I guess, but a hard and secretive one. He always paid his bills at the general store, always in full and on time, first of every month. I'd have put the whole store on credit for him if he'd had a mind to--that's how much I trusted him to pay.

There were many strange things about Blue Jim, though. Mostly he didn't talk. Then there was the fact that he never went to church, but as I said, he had the minister out to his place on occasion. Usually, the minister who visited Blue Jim's place wasn't quite himself for the next few days, not talking, hardly eating. He always looked pale after coming back from Jim's ranch, and his lips would have a shade of blue to them for a few days.

No matter how many times he was asked (which wasn't very often, really), the minister wouldn't say what had happened, or what he'd seen or heard while visiting Blue Jim's place. Probably just as well, since it was no one's business.

The time of year was rolling toward the cold season, and the leaves were turning their browns and reds and yellows, and beginning to pile up all over the town common. The "street sweeper," as we called Old Man Jones, had died the previous spring, and there wasn't anyone who wanted to keep the leaves and such out of the main street, as it was a full-time job since our small town is surrounded by large maple and oak trees. Now, we were just a one-street cow town, really, but it was our home, and we liked to keep it neat. Well, we liked it to be kept neat, but not many of us had the inkling to do the neat keeping ourselves, and that's why we hired Jake Sikes.

Jake was a drifter, but when he got to our town, he was almost dead with thirst. Seems that his horse threw him, and then left him, way back on the trail. He crawled into town and fell face-first into a horse-watering trough near the livery. We all thought he was going to die, but he pulled through after a few long days.

Once he was recovered, he said he'd be heading on unless he could find some work around, and that's when the town committee hired him to replace Old Man Jones. Jake was to be our new street sweeper. Although we didn't know it, he had business of his own in our town, and he meant to see it through before moving on. Looking back, it seems like he didn't just "happen through" after all.

Anyway, Jake was a good hand at work. He stayed busy most of the time painting the old, scrubby buildings that made up our main street, sweeping and raking the leaves and debris, and repairing broken hitching rails, boardwalks, and keeping the water well cleared. He worked hard, and stayed out of the way, and that's just how we liked it. He was a good man, and we thought we were lucky to have him around.

On the morning of a blisteringly cold Thursday in late November, Blue Jim came striding into town bundled up in his buckskin coat and those long cowhide boots he always wore. They were scuffed so badly that the original color couldn't be guessed and were now a faded, sickly gray. I'd tried to sell him a new pair of boots when he first moved to the area, but he just smiled and shook his head. Guess a man will wear what he's comfortable with, and leave it at that.

On this freezing Thursday morning Jake was in front of the general store repairing a few loose planks on the boardwalk, taking his time, enjoying the work and the brisk weather as he smoked one cigarette after another. He glanced up as Blue Jim walked by, and his face froze, an expression of unconcealed hatred storming his features. Blue Jim hurried into the store and closed the door behind him, shutting out the wind, and headed straight for the shelves of supplies. He's all business when he comes to town, no lollygagging for him.

"'Lo, Jim," I said over my coffee. The store was empty except for Jim and myself, and I'd probably not get another customer all day as cold as it was. I took another cup from under the counter and filled it with steaming brew. After a few minutes, Blue Jim strolled over and put his shopping on the counter, and, taking the offered cup, seated himself across from me. I went back to reading my month-old paper (mail only comes once a month or so from back East), knowing that trying to talk to Blue Jim would do no good. I'd heard him speak only once since he came to live here, and that was when he told Sheriff Jacobs his name, and that he'd filed a homestead where is farm is now. I remember his voice: deep, smooth, and thoughtful. Strained, somehow, come to think of it.

When he spoke, I was so surprised that I actually thought I had imagined it, and just kept on reading my paper.

"Mr. Talbott," he repeated in his strange voice.

I looked up with evident surprise in my eyes, my mouth hanging

Something around his eyes arrested me, caused me to take a few steps backwards. I bumped my head into the shelves of lamp oil behind me, bringing tears of pain to my eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spook you. I need to ask a favor of you." Those eyes, those radiant, arresting eyes! I still remember the vivid greenness of his eyes to this day.

I heard myself saying "Sure, whatever you need, Jim," but it didn't sound like my voice at all. It sounded childish, tinny, and seemed to come from far, far away.

He smiled, and I swear I saw the biggest, whitest teeth I've ever seen on anything, on any person or animal, that I've ever seen in my life. Something in that quick smile told me not to worry about the teeth, but not to mention them either. I never did, not to another soul, until right now. I have no doubt that those teeth were razor sharp, could probably shred a man in minutes, bones and all.

"I would like for you to tell the gentleman working on the boardwalk outside to stay away from my ranch."

A gunslinger came through town a few years back, and had the misfortune of bumping into Blue Jim outside the only saloon we've got. Now, that gunslinger was widely known, and feared by every man I knew. He was a wildcat, rattlesnake and the devil rolled into one, big as a bear and twice as mean.

The gunslinger had been drinking most of the afternoon, and was just leaving when he stumbled out the door and into Blue Jim. The supplies Jim was carrying fell to the ground, and so did the gunslinger. Blue Jim didn't even budge. I saw it all; I was right behind Jim, heading to the saloon after closing up the store after he'd left with his purchases. Without a word, Jim bends down and picks up his things, and starts to step around the fallen gunslinger.

Jim had taken no more than a single step when the gent jumps up and knocks his things back to the ground. "Where're ya goin', boy? Seem in a mighty hurry, you do. P'haps you'll show some respect and apologize for hittin' me before I shove this pistol down your throat."

Blue Jim tried to step around the man again, but before he could a gun was in the gunslinger's hand, shoved against Jim's stomach. The hammer cocked back, and I swear I've never seen fury in a man's eyes like I did that day. I don't doubt that the gunslinger meant to kill Jim right then and there, but before he had time to pull the trigger, a hand shot out and grabbed him around the throat. I heard a snap, and then the gunslinger's body hit the dirt, twitching. Blue Jim picked up his things, walked around the dead man, and went on his way, never looking back.

So, when Jim told me to pass along to Jake to stay away from his ranch, I knew what would happen if he didn't: we'd never see Jake alive again, not hide nor hair.

"Yes, Sir, I'll do that, Jim." I felt like a man in a daze, or perhaps a waking dream.

With a nod of his head, he downed the last of the coffee, scribbled his name in the IOU ledger, and walked out.

Suddenly, I felt weak in the knees, and my whole body started shaking. I felt the blood run down from my face, and when I looked in the mirror hanging against the far wall, I was as pale as the minister was after visiting Jim at his ranch, and my lips had a slight blue tinge to them. From somewhere inside me, an icy wind began to blow, chilling my blood.

In the dying light of the day, I watched Blue Jim turn toward his ranch and trot his big mare without another word. The weakness in my knees was so strong that I had to sit on a barstool for almost fifteen minutes before I could trust myself to stand.

Outside my door, Jake watched Blue Jim as well, and even from where I sat, I could see trouble crawling all over the younger man's face. I would have to pass on Blue Jim's warning, and soon.

Sighing, I wobbled over to the door, and creaked itjust a bit. "Now you listen to me, Jake. You don't want to go messin' with that man." Jake turned to stare at me, a sneer on his face, unbridled hatred seething in his features. "I'm telling you, Jake, for your own good. He's a man that just wants to be left alone, and you'd be well to steer well clear of him."

Jake turned back to stare toward Blue Jim's ranch, and he spat into the wind. "Sure, Pops, I'll leave him alone."

I looked down at Jake for a moment longer, knowing that I was surely looking at a dead man. The wind picked up, and I went back inside the store for another cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey.

I never saw Jake again after that.

Well, I never saw him alive anyway.

Something happened that night that I'll never forget. I woke up in my bed, covered in sweat, freezing down in my bones. I could have sworn someone was in the room with me, but I knew I was alone. I kept an oil lamp burning all night, most times, because I like to read at night when I can't sleep. It wasn't very bright, but it cast enough light for me to see into the corners of my small bedroom in back of the general store.

The last images of a nightmare swept through my mind, and I shuddered against the whistling wind outside, snuggling deeper into my covers, glad that I'd left the lamp burning.

I was just about to fall asleep again when the most hair-raising scream you could imagine jolted me fully awake. That scream sounded like a man's very soul was being ripped out and burned right in front of his eyes.

Though I had only heard that voice twice before, I knew without a doubt who it belonged to: Blue Jim Davis.

As that wailing, horrible scream died away, someone started pounding on the front door of the store. A few yells and more than a few swears reached my ears from the street, and I hurried through the store, turning up the lamp as I went.

The sheriff and minister were running past the store toward the livery when I ran outside, stumbling through the door in my bare feet.

"What's going on? Sheriff, what's happening? Do you--"

The sheriff didn't give me time to finish, just grabbed me by the arm, and practically dragged me to the livery with him. I distinctly remember the minister praying even as he ran past us, his face beaded with sweat though the temperature was close to freezing.

Once at the livery, the sheriff shoved a shotgun into my arms, and pushed me out the door in front of him, swearing the whole time that I'd not live to see tomorrow if I didn't get my butt moving. I got my butt moving as fast as I could, being more afraid that the sheriff would run me over than thinking he'd actually kill me. He practically threw me up on the horse that was waiting in the first livery stall, smacked it across the bottom, and away I went, following the minister, the sheriff right behind me and gaining fast, heading straight for Blue Jim's ranch.

Another agonizing, soul-wrenching cry split the night, and I almost fell off the horse from fright.

The sheriff was the first one of us to get to Blue Jim's ranch, and just as he pulled his big stallion to a halt, the house burst into flames. Shards of glass flew all around, and the sound of the raging fire almost drove me deaf. Another scream ripped the night, and Sheriff Jacobs tried to reign in his horse a little too hard. The big stallion reared up on its hind legs, toppled backwards and landed on top of him.

The sheriff didn't even have time to scream; the big horse crushed him in an instant.

The minister was behind him, and his horse reared up as well. The old man hung on, and after a few seconds, the horse dropped back down again. The minister jumped off the animal, paying no attention at all to the sheriff, pulled me off my own horse, and ran straight into the barn from where the last scream had come from, dragging me with him.

Together, without slowing down, we entered the blackness of the barn.

The smell almost drove me out of my mind. As soon as I stepped into the barn, the minister lit a lamp, and another. The stench of blood was so strong that I tasted bile. My eyes were watering, and for a minute I couldn't see or think of anything but getting out of the barn where I could breathe. Horses that were in the barn stalls were whinnying madly, white eyes rolling, hot breath blowing their fear all around the dark, stinking barn.

I turned, and ran straight into a support pole. It smashed into my face, and I dropped to the ground, the gun thudding dully as it hit the hard-packed dirt of the barn beside me

"The gun, you old fool," the minister screamed from somewhere behind me.

I picked up the gun, looked up, and passed out.

I couldn't have been out long, because the minister was still slapping me when I came to.

I was so stunned at the sight that greeted my eyes that I couldn't possibly move an inch of my body. Or maybe it was the cold that had seeped into my old bones.

Standing at the far end of the barn was Blue Jim, his stomach ripped blood gushing out of it. His left leg was twisted at an odd angle, and one of his eyes was hanging on his cheek, rolling around sickeningly. His clothes looked burned in places, but clean and fresh in others. Chunks of his hair were missing where it looked to have been torn out by the handfuls.

His hands, my god, his hands! He had his hands stretched out before him, and they were glowing. A soft blue light swirled around his hands, and he threw this stuff, this blue light, across the barn. I didn't see what it hit, but I heard it.

Jake screamed from the darkness of horse stall, screamed until I thought my head would explode. The softly glowing blue that had erupted from Jim's hands was now illuminating the entire barn, and still the tormented wail of agony continued. Beside me, the old minister was down on his knees, his eyes tightly closed, his hands raised skyward. He was praying, I guess. Didn't do any good though, because next thing I saw was a horse thundering from the stall where the scream had come from, it's fine white hair burning a soft blue color, blue flames also shooting out it's mouth and nose.

The burning horse ran straight over the minister and out the door. The old man was dead, had to be, and now I was alone in here with these two demons from Hell.

I sat down in a heap, and vomited all over the smashed and broken body of the old minister and myself, my eyes never leaving Blue Jim.

Jim began to say some strange words then, words in a language I didn't recognize. His eyes began to glow bright green, and his hands were moving in a strange circular pattern. His voice was getting louder, and his hands were moving faster, when from out of the horse stall shot a silver arrow. It went straight into Jim's throat, and another of those ungodly screams tore throughout the night.

Strangely, the arrow melted as Jim's scream died away. He staggered backward, and then started that weird talking again, his hands moving faster than ever. Suddenly, a woman, glowing a bright yellow from head to toe, appeared out of thin air in front of Jim, and ran straight into the stall.

Jim continued his chanting, his hands moving so fast now that they were just a blur. From the stall I heard Jake screaming, begging his mother not to hurt him.

Without warning, Blue Jim's hands stopped moving, his chanting cut off in mid-tone, and he turned his glowing eyes on me.

He said something in that weird language again, and everything went black.

When I came around, I was lying about a hundred yards from the barn, which was a roaring inferno, and Jim was just finishing up with the remains of Jake. I say finishing up, but maybe I should explain what I saw.

Jim was eating Jake. Those teeth I had seen earlier were indeed sharp enough to chew through bones, because they were doing it now. All that was left of Jake was a half-eaten arm, and his eyeless head. I don't know what happened to his eyes, and I don't want to think about it, either. I noticed that Jim's wounds were all but closed already, and as I watched in horror, a gash on the side of his neck slowly closed with a wet sucking sound just as he finished what was left of Jake's arm.

I scrambled to my feet, but Jim's hand reached out lightning-quick, and pulled me back down again. "Sit still, and listen," he said around a mouthful of Jake's arm.

I sat down again, whimpering, nauseous. The smell of blood was horrible, the acrid smoke from the burning house and barn stinging my eyes. I looked around but couldn't see the old minister's body anywhere. Again, I don't know what became of it, and I don't want to know, either.

In a deep, coarse voice Blue Jim said, "Give me your wrist."

I couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. I mumbled a few incoherent words, and started to back away.

Blue Jim's hand shot out and grabbed mine, and pulled it to his mouth before I could react.

He bit into my wrist with those razor-sharp teeth, and it hurt worse than you'd believe. I started to scream but the yell locked in my throat as images of a beautiful young woman flashed through my mind.

She was screaming at someone I couldn't see, yelling for them to leave her alone, to let her child live in peace. Her eyes looked wild, crazy, and I noticed then that she was carrying a small child in her hands. She said something then that I didn't understand: "Hezeh medikiah mordrin!"

Yellow fire shot from her fingertips, and someone just outside my field of vision yelled in pain. I knew the voice, though I had only heard it a few times before. It was younger, stronger somehow, and filled with rage, but I knew that voice. It belonged to Blue Jim.

I saw Blue Jim stumble into sight, dirt smeared all over his face, hands raised protectively in front of him. He yelled some strange words back at the woman, and blue lightning shot from them, engulfing the woman and the small child in brilliant light. More screams, this time accented by the horrific wailings from the child.

Jim's hands reached out and snatched the child away from the sizzling woman, her flesh bubbling from the intensity of the heat from the lightning washing over her again and again.

She lunged at Jim then, a rage I haven't seen in a person before or since burning in her eyes. Jim tried to pull away, but the woman held firm. She threw her arms around him, and brought her lips within an inch of his. Try as he might, Jim couldn't pull away.

Both of them, Jim and the woman, started screaming words into the air, showering each other with spittle, blue sparks jumping between Jim, the woman, and the now-screaming child.

Both the woman and Jim were screaming the same thing: "Chedez cordrid morthura belial! Chedez cordrid morthura belial!"

The child dropped to the floor, both the woman and Jim ignoring his screams.

From out of Jim's mouth came a pale blue form, a small, transparent thing that was shaped like a man. From out of the woman's mouth came the same, only it was a harsh yellow, and was, I know saw, the form of a woman. I don't know how, but I knew instinctively what was happening: Jim and the woman were trying to steal each other's soul.

Jim's hands shot out and into the woman's chest, blood gushing all over the child lying screaming on the floor. Her voice stopped in mid-sentence, a haunted look in her eyes. The yellow figure rushed from her mouth and into Jim's. He withdrew his hands, and I saw that he was holding something bloody and slimy in them: the woman's heart.

She fell to the floor without another sound, and Blue Jim picked up the wailing child. He shoved the heart at the child's mouth, and it began to greedily suck on it, the screaming stopped in an instant. Jim stumbled backwards, gagging and choking.

After a few minutes, Jim straightened up and looked down at the child and its dead mother.

"Now you've paid the price, Witch," he said, his voice raspy and wet. "For breaking the Fourth Commandment, for joining with a human and forming a half-breed child, you've paid the price. Your soul is mine to command!"

From an unseen corner of the room, a soft, anguished crying could be heard. Jim walked over to it, and I saw a small man lying there, hands and feet bound with a thick rope. The man's eyes were far away, his tears streaming onto the dusty floor of the small cabin. Between sobs of unimaginable grief, only one phrase was understandable: "Jake, please, Jake, don't eat your mommy..."

Suddenly, Jim pushed my arm away, and the visions died with it. I was lying on the cold desert ground, softly crying.

"You see," said a deep, thoughtful voice. "We can't join with humans, it's against the Commandments. She had to die, and I'm the last of the Guardians. She was my daughter, Mr. Talbot, but the Laws are far older than even one as ancient as myself can remember, and I had to do it." A sigh escaped Jim's blue lips, and he continued. "I should have killed the child then too, but I couldn't. I don't know why, but I couldn't."

My lips were trembling, and tears were pouring down my face. I was scared, more than I'd ever been in my life. "Wh, what are you, Jim? What are you really?"

I looked over to see Blue Jim staring at me. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning either. "The last of a dying breed, Mr. Talbot, the lone survivor of the Mehedrions, witches far older and from farther away than you'd believe. And I'm tired, Mr. Talbot. I'm so very tired…"

Jim just kept staring at me, and said nothing else.

Weariness overcame me, and I faded off to a sleep filled with screaming women with blue lips and razor-sharp teeth chasing me around an old, stinking barn.

When I awoke the next morning, Blue Jim was gone, never to be seen or heard from again. The farm had burned to the ground during the night, and the townsfolk were slowly making their way out to the ranch. No one spoke a word as we buried what was left of our sheriff and Jake's eyeless, bloody head. The good folks of the town helped me back to my bedroom in the back of the general store, and then went on about their business as best they could. They never asked me what happened at Blue Jim's ranch, and I never told them. I've never spoken of it at all until now, and I'm only telling you because you'll not believe a word of it anyway.

The townsfolk elected a new sheriff, a nice young man with a quick smile and a quicker draw, and a traveling minister decided to settle down in our town and start services back up in the church. Life resumed its normal routines, and no one spoke of Blue Jim, Jake Sikes, or the old minister. It was no one's business.

That's just the way the world was back then, people didn't ask questions that they didn't want answered. It's a lesson you'd be best to learn, youngster.

Guess you know by know that I'm the only person who ever escaped from Blue Jim's wrath and lived to tell about it. I'll tell you one more thing, and then I'm goin' on to bed.

I'll never be the same again, not after that night.

And now you know why my lips are always blue.

G'night.

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