Speaker 1: 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