The Mourner's Cradle: A Widow’s Journey

The Mourner's Cradle: A Widow’s Journey

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By:  Crystal Lake Publishing  Completed
Language: English
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The tale of a widow's harrowing journey through grief and peril into the cold remnants of a dead world. Damon Sharpe had in part found victory, he believed, in his battle to unearth a truth obscured by time. By autumn, he was dead, leaving to his wife Anne a house of unfulfilled wishes, remnants, and the key to the enigma of his obsession, the Mourner’s Cradle. A journey through grief and peril delivers Anne Sharpe from her home in St. Charles to the faraway skeletons of a long-dead civilization where she will find the desperate answers she seeks…or die trying. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

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Cemetery Whispers

1979CEMETERY WHISPERSEven before thecalamity that shook the city to its deepest foundations, St. Charles, a place of some charm and innocence during the late seventies, held its traces of dark history and secrets. As St. Charles expanded, becoming more actual city than town, its shadows subsisted. With industry and developments accelerating the city’s way of life, many of the old tales, such as those surrounding Marion Cemetery, were forgotten by most.“Be careful around Marion Cemetery,” a few of the city’s fading elderly used to say to their children. “Or the shadows might carry you away.”Dominguez remembered. Having seen almost a full century, he was a man of many secrets. Though his frame was frail and his mind aged, he remembered much.As the cemetery’s solitary gravedigger, Dominguez often strolled its outer perimeter during the dark hours. In his way, he walked the boundary of darkness and light.His occasional whispering to the shadows punctured the silence, for

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21 Chapters

Cemetery Whispers

1979CEMETERY WHISPERSEven before the calamity that shook the city to its deepest foundations, St. Charles, a place of some charm and innocence during the late seventies, held its traces of dark history and secrets. As St. Charles expanded, becoming more actual city than town, its shadows subsisted. With industry and developments accelerating the city’s way of life, many of the old tales, such as those surrounding Marion Cemetery, were forgotten by most.“Be careful around Marion Cemetery,” a few of the city’s fading elderly used to say to their children. “Or the shadows might carry you away.”Dominguez remembered. Having seen almost a full century, he was a man of many secrets. Though his frame was frail and his mind aged, he remembered much.As the cemetery’s solitary gravedigger, Dominguez often strolled its outer perimeter during the dark hours. In his way, he walked the boundary of darkness and light.His occasional whispering to the shadows punctured the silence, for
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Loss

LOSSIIn the spring of ’79, the efforts of Damon Sharpe’s research reached a pinnacle. He had in part been victorious, he believed, in his battle to unearth a truth obscured by time. He had only to look on it with his own eyes to verify the success as more than personal, though it remained a victory few recognized as authentic.The only things that made Damon different to his wife, Anne, were that she loved him and that he was who he was—and he had loved her, even if no one else seemed to remember her. Damon’s wife, they probably called her, the ones who knew he had a wife. The invisible woman. Spring became summer, which faded into early autumn. The leaves turned and fell.Anne lay among the sheets of the bed with her head against a flat white pillow. As the wall clock ticked away, she stared at the empty space on the other side of the bed.At the age of 38, her husband had died of a heart attack and Anne was alone with a house full of things, unfilled wishes, dreams, and remn
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Intruder

INTRUDERIWhen the man stepped in and saw her there, he froze. Their eyes locked.He was bald, with a flat nose and narrow eyes. The beginnings of a gray-speckled black beard lined his jaw. His frame filled out a navy-blue tee-shirt and black jacket.Anne broke away and ran. The intruder dashed after her. She reached the bedroom door and his hand twisted into the back of her shirt to jerk her backward. The clothing ripped. Thick gloved fingers seized her arm.Anne spun and struck. Her knuckles struck his tender windpipe and he released her, shocked and gasping. He clutched his throat. Anne bolted into the bedroom.She ran to the bag on the bed and grabbed for its strap but fumbled. The bald man charged through the bedroom doorway, running across the room toward her.She turned and popped a vicious kick at him. Her heel glanced from his shin, and his weight slammed her to the edge of the bed. In her struggling, she slipped down to the carpet below. Her head struck the edge
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Taking Flight

TAKING FLIGHTIThe St. Charles Regional Airport was only semi-crowded today. Anne rushed across its expanse to the nearest pay phone she could find and dialed Ruben’s number again. This time, he answered.“This is Ruben Ramirez.”“Ruben, this is Anne.”“Anne. How are you?”“I’m at the airport. Can you meet me here?”“At the airport?”“Can you meet me here or not?”Ruben paused. Anne’s voice had remained neutral, but her delivery was concise. She didn’t care to squander the minutes away, not now. If anyone would understand, she thought, Ruben would.“All right,” Ruben said. “Tell me exactly where you will be and I’ll meet you there.”“There is a café here,” she said. “A small one in the airport. I think it must be new. I’ll be waiting for you there. Is your passport current?”“Excuse me?”“If it is, bring it.”“What is this about, Anne?”Finding a beginning wasn’t easy. With everything coursing through Anne’s mind, she ran the risk of spewing it out in an incomprehe
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Lima

LIMAIRuben managed to convince the random flyer next to Anne to trade seats with him. Soon, the plane hummed along the runway stretch, lurched upward, and lifted them into the skies.Anne wasn’t speaking much. Ruben had a glass of water and ignored the package of peanuts brought. Halfway through the flight, Anne’s near-silence abated.“Ruben,” she said to him, “Keller showed up at my husband’s funeral.”Ruben nodded. He kept his eyes on the back of the seat in front of him.“I know,” he said. “I was there.”“Of course,” Anne said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”Ruben had seen what had happened with Keller. Everyone had. Anne wished he hadn’t, although she wasn’t ashamed of it.“It’s all right,” Ruben said quietly. “I realize we never spoke there. I was trying to give you some space. I could tell that was what you wanted. I tried to speak to you on your way out, but I don’t think you even heard me. You were already out the door and it was raining hard.”“Thank you for being t
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Strangers

STRANGERSIThe van ride wasn’t pleasant. The driver seemed to plow through every single bump and dip in the road. Anne’s bones jarred with each bounce. She clenched her teeth and fired a glare at Ruben, but he already knew her agitation. He kept looking out the window in the opposite direction.While Anne and Ruben sat in the back of the van, Raul was in a seat in front of them. He made occasional quiet exchanges with the other two at the front.The vehicle’s driver was a large man with a shaved head who spoke almost entirely in grunts. The other man, who sat in the passenger’s seat, was a skinny man with a bunched wad of dark curly hair on top of his head. The driver kept his eyes on the road. The other man kept turning his head toward the back of the van and looking at Anne a bit too often.Anne was grateful when they rolled into Huancayo. She climbed out with Ruben and Raul. Raul went to business with assembling supplies for their journey. Ruben went with him. Anne also d
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Mountains

MOUNTAINSIThey drew nearer. The mountains appeared larger, much larger, than they had from that distance of hours before. Soon, they seemed incredible and immense, dwarfing Anne, Ruben, and Raul to tiny specks of near-nothing. Was this a fool’s errand or a suicide climb?And it hadn’t even started yet.Ruben glanced over at Anne. “Are you sure about this, Anne?”She didn’t return his glance. “Am I sure?This is hardly the time for second thoughts.”Anne noticed the doubt in Raul’s expression when he glanced toward her, even as he tried to hide it beneath an overly-patient smile. He didn’t give Ruben that same smile, she noticed. She guessed Raul had never embarked on this sort of climbing venture with a woman. If this concerned the man, Anne decided, she shouldn’t bother herself to care. Between her husband’s death and the undertaking before her, she would do it anyway, all else be damned. No obstacle would stand in her path.They plodded and climbed across rocky terrain. They
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Fire in the Night

FIRE IN THE NIGHTIRuben began to rise. Raul held up a finger in caution.“Wait here,” he said. “I will look.”While Raul walked toward the mouth of the cave to investigate the sounds, Ruben came to his feet. Anne decided it wise to do the same. Her legs wobbled when she rose. Ruben put out an arm to steady her.The crunching sounds had desisted. The heavy outside winds renewed their fury. Anne and Ruben watched Raul’s dark form step into the light of the cave’s opening.In the middle of the cave, the soup bubbled.The explosion sent Raul staggering backward. His body struck the cave floor. Blood streamed from the bullet hole in his forehead.Anne cried out and rushed toward him. Ruben grabbed her arm to pull her back. She yanked away from Ruben but quickly understood he was right; Raul was already dead. Nothing could be done, and whoever had done this was still out there. Hardly able to sort out what had happened, she forced her feet forward and rushed to the back of the ca
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Blood on the Snow

BLOOD ON THE SNOWIRuben knew it was a desperate move, but alternatives were scarce. He had to do something.To Ruben, everything slowed to a crawl. He leaned down to put his hand into the snow and curled his fist tight. When he came up, he ran, footsteps firing across the snow, and Javier turned the rifle on him.Ruben hurled the ball of snow and ice. Fire sprang from the barrel of Javier’s rifle and the snowball exploded into his face. Ruben dove, but not quickly enough.The blast clipped him and red erupted through his vision. Warm wetness flooded the side of his face.Carried by his momentum, Ruben crashed into Javier’s legs. The rifle jerked. Javier slipped, flailing down the precarious slant and over the edge.Ruben sprawled facedown into the snow. It reddened with his blood.Keller stood in shock. He stood gaping at the white mountain ledge, at Ruben and the red snow around his head.Keller made a crooked path toward the ice cave’s opening. Outside it, he slumped again
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Awakening

AWAKENINGIIn a moment of blurred consciousness, Ruben seized the pain and discomfort, awful as it was, and pushed against the beckoning sleep.He raised his head from the snow and saw his own blood. He pressed a cold, shaking hand to his head, and felt wetness. He trembled when his fingers met the wound, rough and tender, and pain coursed through his senses.He was lucky, in a manner. Although the injury was bloody, the shot had shaved away skin and nothing else.He probed the site with his fingers. It made him gasp, but he had to verify his assessment of the injury.It ran from the top of his cheek to his temple. It still bled. He pressed his hand against the open flesh to seal the wound. It burned with the pressure of skin against raw exposed meat. He winced. It hurt—a lot. He did his best to shake away his daze and tried to pull himself up.He slid and struggled for traction. After almost a minute, he managed to climb to his feet. He backed away from the sharp slant th
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