Blasphemous!
written by: Michael Danese
The hall was filled with the sweet aroma of the cut flowers surrounding the coffin. A young, teary-eyed woman sobbed over the body of an elderly woman. She reached in, touched her cheek, and whispered, “I’ll always love you.”
She moved on, and a middle-aged couple soon stood in front of the open box. They were dressed in their Sunday best, which had obviously seen a lot of Sundays. The man said, “Wow, she must be wearin’ all the jewelry she had. I’m guessin’ when she moves on, the spirits will certainly know that she was a wealthy woman!”
The next couple stood and gazed. The woman was whimpering and said, “Look at her. She used to be so beautiful. The war sure took its toll on her.”
“The war took its toll on all of us,” said the man. “Life will never be the same for any of us.”
That was true. The years following the Civil War triggered a major shift for people living in the South. They longed for the antebellum times when the plantations were prosperous and cotton propelled the economy, all on the backs of the now-freed slaves. Many of the large farms had failed, but the stately mansions remained, many fueled by old money. They were occupied by people living in denial, hoping to return to the old ways, as they attempted to cling to their near-defunct high society.
“May I please have your attention?” asked a well-dressed man at a lectern. “The service is about to start. Please take your seats.” Earl Standish was leading the service. He was the funeral director and an ordained minister. He was in his late fifties, with long curly gray hair and a short white beard. “Thank you for coming to celebrate the life of Mildred Thatcher. From the number of people here, it is obvious that she was a well-loved and respected member of our community. Almost everyone in Charleston knew of her due to her large plantation. I’m pleased to see so many of her former slaves here also.” He continued with his usual message about entering God’s kingdom and the value of a long, clean life, which Mrs. Thatcher seemed to have lived.
When he was finished, the casket was loaded onto a wagon and brought to the cemetery on the hill outside of town. The procession behind the wagon was very long. When the cortege reached her final resting place, the casket was carefully located above the grave. It was a lovely plot on a hill, near a large oak tree, decorated with a canopy of draping Spanish moss. Reverend Standish said a few prayers and a blessing, and then the mourners placed flowers on the elaborate coffin before returning to town.
James Raymond Potter was the only person left in the cemetery. Everyone knew him as Jimmy Ray. He was wearing muddy overalls and a floppy blue hat. He worked the ropes that lowered Mrs. Thatcher into the grave he had dug earlier that morning. He would return later that night to finish the burial because working in the July heat was unbearable.
Jimmy Ray was almost 40, with shaggy brown hair and a short beard. He was wounded in the war when General Sherman’s army took Columbia, South Carolina, and then burned the city. He was shot in the thigh and came very close to losing his leg, but a skilled surgeon managed to save it. He returned home after that, and eventually started working at the funeral home. He now walks with a very pronounced limp. He was what they called then “a little slow,” or “tetched in da head,” but he was a hard worker and loyal to the Reverend.
Reverend Earl Standish didn’t serve in the war. There were whispers in town that he was a war profiteer. If there was one business that thrived during the war, it was his funeral home. Earl even managed to parlay his business into supplying caskets to the North and the South armies, without allowing either side to find out. He never married, and people said he was wed to his business, others said he was in love with his bank account. After the war, his funeral home seemed to attract the wealthiest families, due to his standing in the community, his empathy, and his calming personality. Word spread by mouth, and his business continued to grow.
One afternoon several months ago, he was finishing dressing a wealthy widow before her viewing. He was putting on her earrings and a beautiful pearl necklace when he had an idea to grow his business further. He asked Jimmy Ray into his office and closed the door to discuss his scheme. At first, Jimmy Ray was outraged and even insulted, but the more The Reverend spoke, the more he was convinced that grave robbing would benefit him.
After dark, Jimmy Ray returned to the cemetery with a kerosene lamp, a crowbar, and a shovel. He descended into the grave and methodically pried open the box containing the late Mrs. Thatcher. He quickly removed her diamond earrings, her diamond necklace, and her brooch. He tried to remove her several rings, but they stayed tight between her rigor-mortised fingers. He reached into his pocket and found a pair of side cutters. He cut each finger at the knuckle to retrieve his bounty. Next, he used the crowbar to pry open her jaw and found several gold teeth that he removed with his pliers. When the gruesome task was completed, he closed the box and then filled in the soil that held her in her final resting place.
The next morning, Jimmy Ray arrived at the funeral home. In the foyer, behind a desk, was Millie Krump. She was a large woman in her 50s with her long gray hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head. She lost her husband a few years before the war to smallpox. Then her two sons, Jasper, who was 23, and Beauregard, 19, whom they called Beau, were killed a year apart in the war. Her situation, as dismal as it was, probably would have been the end for most women, but she found solace in her church and the Good Book, where she concentrated on stories where people faced heavy losses. She also enjoyed comforting the clients with whom she felt a certain kinship. The first thing that greeted them when they entered was the fragrant wave of her rose hip perfume, followed by her smile. She came to be known as The Widow Krump, or colloquially, The Widder Krump, and to some, simply The Widder.
“He in, Mrs. Krump?” asked Jimmy Ray.
She nodded her head towards the office.
He knocked on the door and entered to find Earl anxiously awaiting him. “Good night?” he asked.
Jimmy Ray didn’t answer. He pulled a small bag from his pocket, then poured the treasures onto the desk to the delight of Earl.
“Is this everything?” asked Earl.
“Course!” retorted Jimmy Ray, almost insulted.
Earl knew that Jimmy Ray always held back a piece or two. Nothing obvious, usually a tooth, or maybe a ring. Earl let it go because he knew he would make a small fortune from Jimmy Ray’s efforts, and that nobody else would even consider doing this job.
Earl picked up a few items and examined them. He took a ring and wiped it with his handkerchief. “Come on, Jimmy Ray! I told you before that I can’t take items with blood on them! Some of these teeth are also not clean enough. Take them back and finish the job.”
He handed the ring and two teeth back, and Jimmy Ray put them into the bag, and then his pocket. “Sorry,” he said. “Late night. I’ll get’em cleaned up.”
Earl slid the rest of the items into an envelope, then he put the envelope on the corner of his desk, under some other envelopes.
Earl had contacts with jewelers in Savannah who welcomed his goods. They would resell to out-of-town dealers, or, if a piece was inscribed or worn, they would melt down the gold or silver, reset the stones, and make new pieces to sell in their shops. They paid Earl very well, and he would pass on a small portion to Jimmy Ray. But Earl kept thinking about the thousands of dollars in jewels he had buried over the years on the bones of the deceased. He constantly thought of ways to retrieve them but hadn’t yet devised an elegant solution.
But for now, things were going well. Earl opened his desk and pulled out an envelope filled with cash. He handed it to Jimmy Ray and said, “Here’s your cut from last week. Spend it wisely. Tomorrow and Friday, we’ll have funerals that will need your special talent.”
Jimmy Ray’s eyes lit up a bit, just like they always did when he saw the money. He stuffed the envelope into his britches pocket. He walked out, nodding to The Widder as he passed.
A few minutes later, Earl left the office and said, “I’m going to have lunch with the mayor, Mrs. Krump. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
As he left, the postman entered and handed her a small pile of envelopes, as they wished each other a good day. She took the envelopes and brought them into Earl’s office. She put the stack of mail on top of the pile of envelopes on the corner of his desk, which caused a small shiny item to poke out of an envelope on the bottom. She picked it up and recognized it as the brooch that she placed on the collar of Mrs. Thatcher the day before. She picked up the envelope and poured the items onto the desk. She saw some rings that she also recognized, and a gold tooth. One of the rings looked like it had some dried blood on it. She nearly fainted as she fell back into a chair as she put two and two together.
She placed the items back in the envelope and then put the envelope back at the bottom of the pile. She returned to her desk shaking and pale. She struggled with what to do. She knew she couldn’t confront him. She needed this job to survive. If she said anything, she would surely be fired. She also ruled out telling the sheriff. He would certainly believe the word of the good Reverend over an old woman, and he was the friend of the mayor! No, this was a terrible situation. She felt guilty just knowing about it.
Just then, Jimmy Ray returned to the office. “He in?”
“No, he’s having lunch with the mayor,” she said, glaring at him. Then she became enraged. “Jimmy Ray, you’ll burn in hell for what you’ve done. I know all about it. Someday you’ll face God or the devil to pay for your sins.”
“You don’t know nuttin’ and leave me alone!” he responded as he left the building.
Later that night, he sat in the tavern on his usual seat and had trouble drinking the image of The Widder off his mind. He kept mulling her words, “Burn in hell, God and the devil, someday …”
“Time to go, Jimmy Ray. I’m closin’ up,” said the barkeeper.
He stumbled back to his room, and poured himself a glass of rye, hoping it would help him sleep. No luck. He just kept tossing and turning and seeing the eyes of The Widder glaring at him. After all these months of grave robbing, why the guilt now? He always believed, as Earl told him many times, that the jewelry wasn’t worth anything to the dead, so why bury it when it could still have a purpose? Maybe the fact that The Widder figured it out and actually said it out loud triggered something in him. Should he stop? Should he talk to the Reverend about it? He finally fell asleep as his dark thoughts swirled in his head.
The next funeral was for a younger woman, also a plantation owner. She was about Jimmy Ray’s age. Her husband was killed in the war, and Jimmy Ray knew him when they were kids. She was also decorated with jewels.
After Earl gave his blessing in the hall, the casket was again loaded onto the wagon. As Jimmy Ray was leaving the room, he caught a glimpse of The Widder glaring at him. He averted his eyes away from her and went about his duties, then later that night, his gruesome task.
The next morning, he entered the funeral home and walked past The Widder without looking at her. He went into Earl’s office and quietly gave him the goods.
“Are you okay, Jimmy Ray? You seem a little jittery,” he asked.
“Fine, just not sleepin’ well,” he answered.
“Well, I have some good news for you. I’m giving you a raise. You’ve done outstanding work and now you’ll be rewarded for it.”
“Thank you, Reverend. I … I ’ppreciate it,” said Jimmy Ray.
He gave Earl a nod, put on his hat, and left the office.
The Widder was waiting for him. “I tried to pray for your soul, but God wouldn’t accept my prayers because of your blasphemy. He said you were just like Judas, selling souls for pieces of silver, and you remember what happened to him, don’t you, Jimmy Ray? Well, it wasn’t pretty. Soon you will be joining him in hell! I hope one of those spirits grabs you in the night and drags you in front of the devil!” she said.
“Shut up, shut up, you old woman! Leave me alone!” he said as he ran out of the building.
He again tried to drink himself to sleep, and again he was haunted and tortured by the words and the glaring face of The Widder. “Blasphemy, Judas, the devil … “
The funeral the next day was the grandest yet. Earl pulled Jimmy Ray aside and whispered, “She is being buried with a small gold box filled with jewels. Be sure to look for it.”
Jimmy Ray nodded. He could barely keep his eyes open.
When the procession got to the graveside, they were greeted with the smell of rain. Soon, a wicked summer storm unleashed on them. The lightning and thunder caused Earl to cut his prayers short so the people could return safely to town.
When Jimmy Ray returned that night to fill the grave, the rain had not let up. The thunder and lightning seemed to get worse. He quickly pried open the casket and proceeded to gather the jewelry. A flash of lightning lit up the face of the corpse, and her eyes seemed to be open and screaming at him as the thunder roared. He let out a gasp and tried to work quicker. The next flash illuminated the face again, and she seemed to be snarling at him. He shut his eyes and finished his task. He replaced the lid on the coffin as the rain seeped into his burning eyes. The next flash of lightning showed the glaring face through the box.
He then remembered the gold box. Cursing to himself, he removed the casket lid again and looked for the box as another jolt of lightning almost knocked him over. He grabbed the box, put it in his bag, and replaced the casket lid. He slipped in the mud and almost hit his head on the coffin.
Jimmy Ray tried to climb out, but his leg was caught. He looked down and saw the woman pulling him into the grave with her long, bony fingers gripping his ankle. He couldn’t see that his boot was wrapped around a root, and, as hard as he pulled, it just kept getting tighter. He was terrified and screamed out. He pulled one last time as his hands clawed at the mud, as the rain continued to sting his face, blinding him. He lost his grip on the slimy earth and fell back into the grave, landing on the coffin. His leg, twisted at the root, broke when he fell, so he couldn’t move. He thought he had inhaled a whiff of rose hips.
The thunder and lightning kept attacking him, and the rain poured down. The large pile of dirt on the uphill side of the grave was turning to mud, and he noticed that the grave walls were giving way. As the mud was seeping into the hole, he screamed in terror. Soon the box was covered with mud, and, as much as he yelled and struggled, he was engulfed in the grave. His shovel and lamp, which were on top of the pile of soil, also fell into the grave on top of him. Eventually, the hole was filled in with liquid earth. The ground was leveled as the rain continued for the rest of the night.
The next day was hot and sunny, and Earl was looking for Jimmy Ray. He took out his pocket watch and saw that it was approaching noon. By the end of the day, he assumed that Jimmy Ray had finally gotten wise and absconded with all of the jewelry. In the back of his mind, he knew it would happen eventually, and thought it would happen sooner.
He exited his office and said to The Widder, “Any sign of Jimmy Ray?”
She just shook her head and, as Earl passed, she smiled contentedly.
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