The Purple Heart by Herman Sisk. I was weary of the fog that hung
over me like a pall. Fatigued to the point of exhaustion. Since early
afternoon, the chill wind had forced it through my clothing like rain. It
depressed me. The country through which I traveled alone was desolate and unpeopled,
save here and there, where some bush assumed fantastic form. The very air
was oppressive. As far as I could see were hills, nothing but hills
and those bushes. Occasionally I could hear the uncanny cry of some hidden animal.
As I pushed on, a dread of impending disaster fastened itself upon me.
I thought of my home, of my mother and sister, and wondered
if all were well with them. I tried to rid myself of this morbid
state of mind, but try as I might, I could not. It
grew as I progressed, until at length it became part of me. I
had walked some fifteen miles and was so weary I could scarcely stand when I
came suddenly upon a log cabin. It was a crude affair, quite small,
and stood back some distance from the little used road in a clump of
trees. A tiny window and door faced the direction from which I approached.
No paint had ever covered the rough hewn logs from which it was made,
and the sun and wind and fog had turned the virgin wood to a drab
brown. I felt it was useless to knock, for the cabin had every
appearance of being deserted. However, rap I did no voice bade me enter,
and with an effort I pushed open the door and staggered into the house.
Almost immediately, my weary legs crumbled under me, and I toppled and
struck heavily on my face. When I regained consciousness, a rough room,
scantily furnished, greeted my eye. There was an ill looking table, the
top of which was warped and rectangular in shape. Standing in the center.
To one side was a rustic chair. Beyond the table was a bunk built
into the wall, and on this lay a man with shining eyes and a
long white beard. A heavy gray blanket covered all of him but his head.
You're right on time, he said, in a high pitched voice.
I looked at him closely. I don't know you, I said, nor
I you, but I knew you would come. You are ill and need
help, I asked, no, he replied in a strange monotone, But
on this day somebody always visits here. None has ever returned, But I
have yet to be alone on the night of this anniversary. There was something
so weird in the way he looked at me out of those big watery eyes
that I involuntarily shuddered. What anniversary, I asked, The murder of my
father? He answered, It happened many years ago. A strange man came
to this cabin, just as you have done. He paused. I said,
nothing. You wish to stay all night? He asked, yes,
if I may, I replied a moment later, I regretted it quite so,
he said, with a slight nod of his white head. Those were
the very words he addressed to us. We took him in. When morning
came, I found my father dead in there, rolling his eyes and raising
his head to indicate some point behind him, with a dagger in his heart.
You can see the room if you open the door behind me. I
looked at him for a moment, hesitating. Then I went to the door
and pushed it open, cautiously, glancing into the other room. I saw
there was nothing there but a bunk similar to the one the old man occupied.
Don't be afraid, he said, evidently sensing my fear. Nothing will
hurt you. Now is after midnight when it happens. What happens, I
asked, I don't know. No two men have had the same experience.
It all depends on one state of mind. You mean, I began,
Yes, he interrupted. One man saw hands reaching him and ropes in the
air. He was escaping the gallows. Another soft faces of beautiful girls.
He was on his way to a large church wedding. A third saw pools
of blood and white snow stained by human life. He was again living through
a massacre in Russia. Do you live here, I asked, No,
no one does. The cabin is quite deserted. I come each year to
welcome the evening's guest. Is there no other place to stay, I asked,
a sudden fear, seizing me none. Besides, it has grown dark
without and you would lose your weight even if you could leave. There was
something ominous in the way he uttered these last five words. Yes, he
went on, as if I had asked the unuttered question in my mind.
You may think you can go, but you cannot. That is the curse
my father placed on this cab, and I come each year to see that
his word is obeyed. Whoever enters the door yonder on this date must stay
until morning and endure the agonies that only the rising sun can dispel. I
looked about me and made sure he and I were the only living things in
the room. What is to prevent me leaving? I asked, try it?
He replied, an eery note of glee in his queer voice. I
walked to the door and gave it a mighty pull. To my utter amazement,
it was locked. I tried again, this time with greater determination,
but the door remained unyielding. A sudden terror seized me. I turned to
beseech the old man to let me go, but he was not there.
I looked quickly about me. He was nowhere to be seen. I ran
into the other room. It was as empty as before. I rushed to
the door there and pulled vigorously, but my efforts were in vain. Returning
to his bunk, I examined it closely. To my great astonishment, the
heavy gray blanket was gone. In desperation, I turned once more to the
door through which I had entered the cabin. It was still as inflexible as
concrete. Darkness fell fast, and the room became very dim. I groped
about and discovered some matches and a candle on a shelf under the table.
I struck a match and lighted the candle, letting some of the tallow drip
on to the table, I made a stick for it. I then sat
down on the edge of the bunk and anxiously awaited developments, but nothing occurred
to mar the somber silence of my prison. Thus I remained until my watch
pointed the hour of nine. My journey had greatly fatigued me, but my
fears counterbalanced my weariness, so that I kept awake in spite of it.
At length, however, my eyelids grew heavy and my eyes became bleary,
so that the candle multiplied and my head drooped until my chin rested on my
chest, Letting the candle burn, I lay back on the hard bunk.
I was cold and very nervous, and greatly felt the need of food and
dry clothing. But my fatigue soon overcame me, and I fell asleep.
When I awakened a sense of suffocation and bewilderment hung over me. Whereas the
room had been cold when I lay down, it now seemed close and hot.
I pulled myself to a sitting position. The room was dark, the
candle was out. I I jumped to my feet and started toward the table,
but in another moment I stood frozen to the spot. My eyes arrested
and my body palsied by what I saw before me. At the far end
of the room was a purple glow in the shape of a human heart.
It was stationary when I saw it, but almost immediately it began to move
around the room. Now it was at the window, then beside the table
again. It moved quickly but silently into the other room. I pulled my
frightened senses together and groped my way back to the table. I found a
match with trembling hands. I struck it and lit the candle. To my
surprise, it was almost as tall as when I had fallen asleep. I
looked at my watch. It was one o'clock. A moment later, the
flame was snuffed out and I was again in total darkness. I looked wildly
around me horrors. The purple heart was beside me. I shrank back in
terror. It came closer. Suddenly I acquired superhuman courage. I grasped for
the specter. I touched nothing. I placed my left hand before me,
at arm's length. Lo it was between me and my hand. Presently it
moved away. A great calm settled over me, and I began to sense
a presence in the room. Now, without any fear, and with steady
hand, I again struck a match and lighted the candle. It was promptly
extinguished. I struck another with similar results, and now something brushed my lips,
and an arm was pressed lightly upon my shoulder. But I was no
longer afraid. The room remained cozily warm, and a greater sense of peace
came over me. Presently, I lay down again and watched the purple heart
as it came toward me and took its place at the edge of the bunk,
like some loved one sitting beside me. I must have fallen asleep again,
for I knew no more until broad daylight awakened me, and I found
myself lying in the middle of the room. There was no fog, the
sun was shining brightly, and a broad beam was streaming through the dusty window
pane, The candle and the matches were no longer visible. Suddenly I thought
of the locked door, Springing to it, I gave a mighty pull.
It opened easily. I snatched my cap from the rough floor and hurried into
the warm sunlight. A short distance from me, a man came trudging along.
He was a powerful looking fellow of middle age, and was dressed in
coarse working clothes. Do you know anything about that cabin, I shouted,
as we drew closer. Sure it's haunted, he replied. He looked hard
at me. Were you in there last night? I related my experience.
That's queer, he muttered. But I ain't surprised. Last night was the
night? What night? I demanded. Ten years ago, an old man
was murdered in that cabin, and his son swore on his deathbed he'd come
back every anniversary and lure somebody into the cabin for the night and torture him.
I shrugged his white face, stared at the cabin. Come away,
he whispered, Come away, it's halted, Its halted. The End of
the Purple Heart by Hermann Sisk