Dark Corner

Chapter 17

Doris Stickman

Doris Stickman has become an enigma to me. At one time, she was a woman of physical frailty, relying on her cane for guidance but demonstrating an incredible inner strength. A passionate woman with great empathy for those around her, she cannot control her ability to summon storms and to control natural disasters. This I see as a great concern; her emotions are so deeply tied to the environment around us. A gentle tear could turn into a monsoon. An angry word into a hurricane. I did not know how much time I had left, and for that reason I chose to do what I could, to best leave the ladies. Each would have their day and their part to play, but this day belonged to Doris Stickman. We left the other ladies asleep in the cabin and stepped out into the stillness of the dawn. A morning mist rolled off the mountains, capping their blue tips, merging the peaks into the skies.

Abigail quietly closed the cabin door behind us. Pixel complained and finally gave in once I explained he needed to stay and protect the ladies. He knew I was telling a half-truth but respected my wishes. What we were about to do was too dangerous to risk his life.

Dressed in her purple African dashiki, Mrs. Stickman relied on her carved walking stick, with a cobra head made of copper, to lead her up the path. We followed the path up Black Mountain until it ended. The mountain laurels twisted, locking arms, blocking our way. Abigail spoke an incantation, and their gnarled branches unraveled, parting like the Red Sea. We continued up the mountain, Mrs. Stickman never asking where we were going. She understood. After summoning the storm at Biltmore Village, she understood the powers she wielded. We reached a plateau, no more than two thousand feet above the cabin. Abigail flung her backpack to the ground, sitting down cross-legged. Mrs. Stickman sat next to her, relying on her cane to lower her down.

“Okay, Terra, are you going to explain why we’re here now?” She reached into the pocket of her dashiki and pulled out a cigar, which she lit. She puffed smoke rings that flew to the sky like little clouds. She smiled and drops of rain fell from the smoke rings.

“I want you to summon lightning,” I told her.

“How do I do that Terra? I was afraid at the May Day celebration, so when you told me to summon a storm I didn’t have to think about it. It just came out of me.”

“Your body is in tune with the elements, and your emotions can stir those elements, but I need you to be able to control them without emotion. To summon them as you please. That’s why you still struggle with your frailty. You are letting them control you. Your body is deteriorating.”

“How do I do that, Terra?” she repeated.

I ran up the plateau to a granite overhang. Mrs. Stickman creeped up and stood next to me. We stared down into the green fertile valley. The sky was bright blue with not a cloud to be seen. The morning mist burned off. “Think of yourself on a boat on an ocean. The waves are crashing against you. A violent storm is coming. You can’t calm the waters around you. You must calm the waters inside you. Find your center.”

Mrs. Stickman closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. As she did storm clouds gathered. She opened her eyes. “What’s happening, Terra?”

“You are calming the waters within, taking all your emotions out of your magic. The storm is coming because you will it. You’re in control of your mind and body.”

Mrs. Stickman raised her walking stick in the air. Lightning struck across the sky. She raised her stick again, and lighting struck the copper cobra head. Her entire body glowed. She pointed her stick at an evergreen across from the overhang. Lightning flew from the copper cobra head and split the tree in two. She waved her hands, and the clouds blew away. She stood straight and tall.

Abigail cautiously climbed up the overhang. “That was really cool, Mrs. Stickman.”