The House of Mary Ava

It was an old brick house, square, two storied, with large windows that seemed to stare out into the street like wary, half closed eyes. It was unremarkable in many ways, but the children in the neighborhood breathed life into it with the stories they told of the house and its sole occupant.

No one could be sure who even started the stories. How long had Mary Ava even lived there? Kerri knew that her parents had heard the stories when they were children. And others had told her that they'd heard the stories from their grandparents.

So how old did that make this woman that was rarely seen? When she did, she always wore black. Her long skirts made a whispery sound against the floorboards of her porch. Her white hair was long and thick and wrapped into a bun, so silvery it could have been made of spider webs. Where did she come from? Some said Haiti. Some said Panama. Kerri even heard that she might be from Belize. Wherever the woman hailed from, it sounded exotic and far away. Never seen at the local church, it was believed that she worshipped some sort of "alternative faith", Kerri's mother said, a nice way of saying it was something strange and unknown. There were upturned broomsticks and sometimes dead chickens hanging around the door of the woman's house.

The old people, who were by their account all ages younger than Mary Ava, all claimed that she practiced voodoo.

People crossed the street rather than pass Mary Ava's house. Neighborhood animals that crossed into her yard were never seen again. One child lost an Easter rabbit and stood at his kitchen window with his alarmed parents. The smell of rabbit stew wafted into their window on the breeze that very night.

Kerri, all of seven, heard these stories and was intrigued.

Mary Ava came out to her porch sometimes at dusk. She would stare into the sun melting into the west. And sometimes she'd make something with her hands from hay or some kind of string, another strange wreath to place at her door, or tie around the broom handle.

Kerri lived four doors down from the old woman, and found it easy to get away one day in late afternoon when her parents thought that she was playing with her best friend down the street. She had told no one of her secret plan to talk to the old woman. She had not even admitted to herself what exactly she wanted to do. As Kerri stood on the sidewalk, looking into the shadows of the porch, she felt a coldness spread through her chest. The old woman had fixed her with her small, dark eyes.

"Child", she said. Her voice was thin and cool, like water. Kerri stood where she was, rooted to the spot.

"Child," she said again, gently but with authority. "Come here."
Everything in her told Kerri that she should not go any closer, not go up to that porch by any means. But her feet carried her forward, as if they had a will of their own. The old woman smiled, a smile that reminded her of the way a wolf grins just before it swipes its prey.

Kerri stopped at the edge of the stairs to the porch, willing herself to break the witches' spell and keep her from going any farther.

"Such a brave one, you are," Mary Ava purred. "It's years since one of you little ones came up here. But I keep my eye out for ones like you. Did you know that I called you here?"

"They say you're a witch."

There, Kerri thought, now I've done it. The words were out her mouth as is as if she'd said it was hot out or growing cold too early. The old woman laughed heartily in amusement, and the scariness and quiet about her seemed to fade away. . But once she was quiet, and her brown face still, she once again was a mask of secrets.

"There's power in words, girl, I can teach you that. If you should really want to know what that word really means, and not just the way these people mean it, I can show you. There's great power in many things. The sunset, for instance. It's the difference before the here and now and the next. A powerful time of the day."

Kerri was silent, now watching the yellow and pink of the days end stretched across the sky.

"When you come back," the old woman said. "Your learning can begin."

Kerri turned on her heel and went quickly to the sidewalk. Somehow, everything had changed, because she knew she'd be back.