Maggie Sanders

History

• Biography

  Its all rather muddled now. But let me see if I can take you back to the beginning.
  
  I was born on a stormy night in October; from what I recall of the story I've only been told a few times. I came too early, and I was unexpected. Though I've come to realize that's what happens when a pregnant woman is in trauma. She goes into whats called 'preterm labour'. It can be a scary thing, from what I hear. Sudden and bloody. Painful, and uncertain.
  
  My mother must have been a very brave woman. I never got to ask her though. I'm told she was gone before I was even born.
  
  But we don't talk about that.
  
  I'm not exactly certain of my Birth Date. We never celebrated it. Pa always said why should we. It was the worst day in all of history. Id killed a woman and became a burden. Who'd ever celebrate that? But I always imagined it to be the 23rd. I don't know why. It just felt right. I've seen my fair share of storms on that date. Quite like the one raging now. I can hear it rumbling in the distance. Muted through these dirt walls. The crack in the heavy wooden cellar door flashes with the lightning. I can smell the wet earth, and that distinctly electrically charged rain smell.
  
  A smell that reminds me of my mother.
  
  So I was born. I killed a woman. A brave, and beautiful woman, if you ask me. Don't ask Pa. He says she was worthless. Weak. Nothing but a whore. And even that she wasn't good at. So I never asked him. In my mind, she was brave. Beautiful. Charged with the kind of light that ripples through the sky when the clouds above you roar.
  
  There's no stopping her.
  
  As I grew older, I grew tired of Pa's ways. Of all his rules, and misery. No School. No friends. Good 'clean' work. Which was a laugh. All the work I did was dirty. I fixed the endlessly broken tractor. Cared for the chickens and the pigs. Repaired the roof. Scrubbed and cleaned, and polished, and washed. He said 'clean' work would make me strong. Smart. Smarter than any school could teach me. The world didn't need any more educated women. For a time, I believed him. What else was there? I did as I was told. Tried to please him. Tried to make him proud. To do right by him. But he was never happy. Never proud. Always angry. Always punishing.
  
  And then one day he looked at me differently. One day, he seemed to appreciate me. And something happened that I didn't like very much at all. I thought it was just a one time thing. He'd been drinking, and sometimes he did unexpected and unsavoury things.
  
  But it wasn't. And it was worse than anything I had ever had to do.
  
  Id had enough. I was never going to do that again. I had two options – as I could see it. As much as Pa liked to accuse me of killing my Mother. I didn't think – for all the hate in the world – I could intentionally kill someone, I decided on the other option.
  
  It took 6 days of hitch hiking to find this spot. Six days felt like far enough away. It was a tiny little town. Right on the edge of the mountains. The mountains dipped their toes in the prettiest of little bays I had ever seen!
  
  When I got dropped in town, people seemed so friendly. Holding doors and saying hello. They didn't even know me. But everyone had a friendly smile. A warm welcome. No chastising looks, or leading questions. One woman – I won't ever forget! - When I was a whole dollar – twenty short for my sandwich at the grocer, she stepped up and paid for it! I mean have you ever? Back home, the grocer would have taken a spiteful bite out of it, sooner than selling it to such a vagrant like me. Im afraid I wasn't as gracious as I should have been. I was just so shocked. And hungry.
  
  Id left with nothing. Followed the storm clouds one night when Pa was asleep. I may have slipped a little extra 'sleep magic' into his beer that night. To give me a chance to get out of there. When the gettin' was good, I didn't stop to think about 'incidentals'. The clothes on my back. A fist full of bills from the chock full 'o' nuts can on top of the refrigerator. I was scared to take any more.
  
  The money was gone, and the people seemed friendly. And those mountains! I'd never seen a mountain before. Not outside one of those calendars the bank gives you. All those wild flowers, and the water so blue and amazing. I just started walking towards it.
  
  When I got closer, there were woods. A logging road or some such thing. It was deserted and quiet. But so full of wild life. I even saw a bear! Scared me out of my wits. But he moved off when he saw I had no meat on my bones. Good thing too. But deer and foxes. Rabbits and.. oh so much wildlife. And flowers. I never realized there was this much beauty that you didn't have to pay for. Back home, everything was mud and soot. Grease and grit. Everything here was lush and fresh.
  
  
  I kept walking. Hours and hours. I was so tired and hungry. But I just had to keep going. I knew the perfect spot was out there. I just needed to find it. Then. Just as the light was starting to fade, I found it. I thought I was going to have to just curl up under a bush and hope for the best. But as I was starting to fret, it appeared in the trees.
  
  I think it might be an old abandoned hunting cabin. But its just so beautiful and perfect! Sure, it needs work. A new roof. Some proper window hinges. But what am I if Im not resourceful?! I stayed there that night. And the next morning I looked around. Bramble berry bushes all along the side. A crab apple tree out back. A stream off the bay ran through the property with fresh fish and clean water. Even a little – rather badly overgrown kitchen garden off the back porch!
  
  I spent a week in there, expecting the owners to show up. I'd make my apologies I figured. See if I couldn't work out a deal to stay. In the mean time I'd fixed the roof. Straightened the shutters. And even evicted a family of skunks from the crawlspace. Id cleaned up the garden and fished the stream. Id dined like a queen out of my own back yard!
  
  I found my own place in this world. I was happy. More than happy.
  
  But with every rainbow, a storm must rage. We can't see the beauty, without first knowing the fear. The pain. And the pain always comes due, doesn't it?
  
  That was... oh I don't really know. I lost track of time. What year is it? It was a long time ago. My hair is long now. Too long. And dull and tattered. Not at all becoming. My skin is caked in dirt. I sometimes wonder if my eye colour has changed. Like those voles you see.. with red and dead eyes. God. What a sight I must be. I used to be.. well maybe not pretty. But not horrifying, like I surely am now. I haven't seen a mirror in.. well, lets not even talk about that.
  
  I still don't know how. I wasn't expecting it. I should have been more careful. You'd think a gal, growing up the way I did would be more fearful. At the very least cautious. But at the knock of the door, I practically skipped over to it. I'd been reading one of the books all dusty and falling apart on the shelves above the fireplace. I think I actually wondered if it was someone who owned the place. I was wondering if I had enough tea to offer them.
  
  And there he was. So out of context, I laughed! Can you imagine. I laughed in his face. You can believe me, when I tell you that didn't make him happy. He was sober, I had noted. To slow to realize that meant he was 'on his game'.
  
  The beating he dealt me, was surely what I had coming. Fair enough. I'd stolen from him. Ran away. And then laughed in his face when he came to 'lay claim'. I don't remember much of it. Probably a good thing too. My memories of that are spotty. Id come to.. he'd utter something mean and horrible. Nothing I wasn't used to. Then the pain would black me out again. I tasted blood. Felt blood. My head had a gash. My hands were stinging. My eye was raw.
  
  I think he intended to kill me. He must have forgotten his gun, I'd thought to myself over and over again. I could smell the rain coming. That electrical charge in the air.
  
  And then everything went black.
  
  He comes and goes. Not all that often any more. Not since I lost the baby. Its sad. And I always think about it. But what kind of life is this for a child? She did herself a favour, taking flight the way she did. It was so quick and beautiful too. The pain that engulfed me was so wholly frightening and beautiful. I imagine those where my Mother's final moments. She gave me that. My Moment with my Mother. And now she's gone to a place, where mountains are always beautiful. Where she'll never know pain, and well.. life. What a blessing that is.
  
  Now...that's where we are. See. I heard a thing, a few days ago. At first I wasn't sure what it was. It was loud – even in here. Which Im fairly certain in the cellar of this old hunting cabin. It smells the same. And is built the same way. Quickly. Simply. A hole .. a deep hole dug in the ground. I can feel roots in the walls. Feel rivulets of rain water when a good rain comes. Sometimes I drink it, when I get desperate. It tastes oddly salty, and sweet. 'Good' by some standards I suppose. Good in the sense that its water. And I need it.
  
  Im sorry. Im losing focus. The thing. The sound... some time ago. A few days I think. I could hear him yelling up there. Off on one of his rants. Rationalizing all this for himself. All the things he's done over the years. It was muffled and nearby. He was probably tramping around in my garden.
  
  My garden. Oh.. would those tomatoes be ripe now? So lush and delicious.
  
  Sorry... sorry. He was ranting. Perhaps moreso than usual. Perhaps... Oh I don't know. I wasn't paying much attention. His ranting usually lead to one of our visits. So I was trying to make myself small. Send out the signal, that he didn't want to come here. That he just wanted to toss down whatever scraps he felt compelled to give me. Chicken bones. Apple cores. Our pigs ate better. Just enough to keep me alive. Sometimes.. god blessedly.. water. A rare treat. When he was feeling.. did he feel? I don't know.
  
  So he was ranting. Calling out to his 'God'. Like I know anything about that. What kind of God lets this sort of thing go on? Not the kind Im going to pray to.. That was his God. Not the same as Mine. I'll tell you that much. It was all sort of disconnected. Kind of scary really.
  
  Then I heard it. And thought. “Oh. I guess he didn't forget his gun.”
  
  Then nothing. Nothing for days. And things here are starting to get weird. Im hearing voices. Smelling things that make no sense. Fresh baked cinnamon rolls. And fresh ripe carrots. I started digging at the earth, thinking I could pull one of those juicy orange delicious carrots from underneath. Have something to eat. But my hands started to bleed, and started to streak the packed dirt.
  
  So I stopped. But now.. there's this hole. Its not big. But I can stick my fingers up through it. This morning.. or was that yesterday. Tomorrow? Ugh.. sorry, my head is mixed up. The sun was shining, so brightly, it felt like it would burn me from that little hole down in here. I put my hand under it, and it felt almost hot!
  
  Now that its raining, I can catch the water dripping in, and drink. Yes. Its that same salty sweet taste. But its helping. See... No carrots.
  
  My name is Margaret Sanders. Maggie. Im no one. I was born no one, and that's how Im about to leave. But I wanted you to know. Im in my twenties I think. Did we figure out what year it is? I'll die in my twenties. And no one is ever going to know the difference.
  
  I heard birds recently. I think... oh I might be just crazy. But I think they're eating him. Gross. But satisfying. Deliciously so. I hope they took his eyes first. I hated those eyes. Im scared if I poke my fingers up through the hole when they are there, they'll eat my fingers. Like a worm.
  
  Im going to die here. I know that. I have come to accept it. Its OK. I'll finally meet my Mother. And she'll be beautiful just like my daughter. The two of them are waiting for me Im sure.
  
  But Im not brave enough. Not like her. I keep drinking the water. Scratching at the earth. Dreaming of that mountain and that bay.
  
  How badly I want to see it again.