Grandma might have been away but Miss Maime wasn’t. As we played about making all kinds of noises, Miss Maime suddenly joined in with her one-woman’s orchestra. First she started banging on her tin washtub, moaning some haunting tune. Then she started beating on the fence; still moaning and groaning like a mad woman.
Frightened half to death, we all rushed to the porch, not knowing what to do. Do we go in the kitchen and get grandma’s bucket and throw water over on her? That always stopped her when grandma did it. But what would she do if we did it? Would she come over the fence, catch us all and stew us in her big tin tub? Scared out of our minds, we all just stood on the porch and watched the fence vibrate as Miss Maime violently pounded on it.
Suddenly, a dark cloud formed and the sky crackled with loud bursts of thunder. We didn’t know if Miss Maime had conjured them up or if God was about to intervene and dump water on her in grandma’s stead. As the sky opened up and large droplets of water began to fall, Miss Maime stopped beating on the fence, but her moans didn’t stop. We could hear her in the distance still ‘singing’.
Slowly, we all, grouped together for moral support, walked towards the fence and peeped through the rusted out holes. There was Miss Maime, dancing around in circles, with her arms stretched out towards the heavens as though worshiping the rain god. Her thick, black, wooly hair was all wet and matted down around her face like Cousin It from the Adams family. This freaked us out even more than her tin and fence beating. Quickly, we all, falling down and stumbling on top of each other, rushed inside the house, locked the door and secretly prayed for grandma to hurry home.
Publisher: ElleAuteur Publishing