Isaiah Freeman

I've worked on the Powers' farm for about 30 years now. I started back in 1896, I was 35 years old then. It blows me away thinking about how much time has passed. Mr. Éadrom Powers hired me shortly after him and his wife moved out from Ireland. He was a great man, couldn't be more different than his dark brother. I knew Scáth to be a bad apple from the moment I laid eyes on him. Sinister. A deceiver. Even the sun seemed to dim when he arrived; he still makes the hair on my neck stand on end.

I had been here 10 years before he showed up, and glorious years they were. Éadrom and Fionnuala were the kindest people I ever did meet. Their little one Kelly too. A bit on the wild side she was, but a kind soul nonetheless. Not too many people from town spoke to us black folk like equals. I thought I'd never get a job and be able to support my wife and myself. When he saw me in town though, my skin didn't even seem to be reflected in those bright green eyes; he just asked my qualifications and gave me the position on the spot. Not only were they as good to me as the other farmhands, but they paid me the same too. I'll never forget that. Fionnuala would even find my wife some work from time to time, helping out with laundry, mending, helping out with the little one Kelly and what not. That was until she passed in 1904, my poor Beatrice. Tuberculosis, such an awful way to be taken. I watched her suffer so. After that Éadrom had me move into their house, said they wouldn't taken no for an answer. They insisted I was a part of the family. I sure do miss them all. Sadly, none of them lasted long after Scáth arrived. I remember that day clear as crystal.

I was working in the cotton field when I saw Éadrom's wagon coming down the road to the house. A large, ominous figure was sitting in the back, leaning against the front. I found it odd he wasn't sitting up by his brother. His head was down with his hat pulled over his eyes. Any other man would just seem like he was peacefully resting, but not this man. There was a strangeness to him. While he looked to be having a rest, I knew that beneath that cap his eyes were surveying his new home. Maybe it was because I expected someone similar to Éadrom and his wife. Granted this man was much younger than his brother, but that wasn't the only thing to separate them. It was obvious right away. Where Éadrom was the day with all it's sunshine and light, Scáth was the night with its darkness, shadow and secrets.

When Éadrom climbed down and the man jumped from the back, I could see he simply towered over everyone, a beast of a man. I could tell he wasn't always so much taller than his brother, but with Éadrom much older and on the decline, and with Scáth in his prime, the man simply dominated. Éadrom waved me to come over to the house, so I set my work supplies down and headed in his direction. At this point I wasn't sure what to expect, but the accuracy of my first impression of day vs night was instantly apparent.

When I ascended the porch stairs and stood in front of Scáth for the first time, I reached out my hand for a shake. He looked at my hand, then at Éadrom. He simply scoffed and walked away. Éadrom shook his head out of either shame or frustration with his brother, I’m not sure. He patted me on the back and reassured me.

'Don't worry old friend, he's like that with everyone. Ay, with everyone.'

Indeed he was, and still is. He decided to move into a little shed that was once used for storage before the barn had been built. It's a bit of a ways off from the house, between the cotton and sugarcane fields. I didn't take it personally, though reflex made me assume he didn't want to stay in the house because I stayed there. However, it seemed in his nature to be separated, to be a loner.

He worked in the fields like the rest of us, but also would run errands in town for Éadrom when he need the assistance. Scáth was a faster rider anyhow. Being back from town shortly after leaving, when for Éadrom the trip was an all day task. Scáth would basically handle any job, big or small, that was asked of him. He was quiet and odd, but definitely efficient. About a year went by like that, until the real trouble started. There were about five of us workers besides Scáth. A year after he came, he began to cause problems with the other boys.

First it was Tommy, the youngest and a bit of a hot head. I think that's why he was selected. A head strong man in his early 20's. We were having a drink after a hard day of harvesting work and they got into it out of nowhere. Far as I could tell, just a regular old pissing contest between two dopes at first. Scáth took it too far and it got real physical, real quick. He roughed Tommy up pretty bad and Éadrom had to let him go the next day. It was obvious who the antagonist was but Éadrom couldn't very well fire the brother he brought from overseas. So poor Tommy got sent back to the city with two black eyes, a few bruised ribs, a broken nose and empty pockets.

A few more months went by and then it was Rich. This man was much older, but the same fight ending with the same results nonetheless. Éadrom said he had to hire new workers after Rich left, but Scáth assured him he could take over both men's workloads; and indeed he could. As the following few months went by the three of us left tried to stay away from him. We didn't want to end up like Tommy boy or poor Rich. Our distance was moot because during these months Scáth's plotting was focused on something else entirely, and on something far worse. Almost a year had gone by, then the tragedy occurred.

It was a few days before Christmas and Éadrom and Fionnuala gave us a little over a week off to spend Christmas and New Years with our respective families. Of course I had no family besides them and Kelly, so I stayed on the farm. Scáth had been acting off for days. Even more reclusive, but when he was in the house with the four of us... uncommonly nice. I figured maybe the season had got to him, maybe he was finally feeling at home, or just maybe he was genuinely happy. How wrong I was.

He asked me to run into town for a few random items, said he couldn't do it because he was finishing the gift he was building the family for the holidays. Éadrom couldn't either because he was already visiting a neighbor a few miles up the road. I felt joyous for his new found sense of belonging and effort to fit in, so I told him I’d love to help. Little Kelly, now 13, asked if she could join since she adored going into town so much. He instantly began acting odd. He told her she needed to stay home and help her mother in the kitchen. She replied that Fionnuala didn't need help with anything. He insisted. She sassed him back saying he wasn't her father and to leave her be; with that she ran to the horse cart and waited for me to join. He simply scowled at me and told me to leave already. To this day I wish I would have questioned these strange actions more, but I didn't. Trying to avoid his temper and ending up like Tommy and Rich, I simply said:

'Yes sir, right away sir,' and with that I was on my way with Kelly.

Hours went by before we returned and what a horrifying scene we returned to. I saw three corpses that day. Fionnuala lay on the floor in the kitchen a knife island in a pool of her blood next to her. From her position on her side I could see both the stab wounds and the deep gash in her throat- running from earlobe to earlobe. The man, a burglar declared Scáth, was sprawled down the porch steps with a shotgun blast in what used to be his back, and bits of him scattered up to 2 feet around him. Finally I saw Éadrom. He was in the living-room leaned up against the wall, two gunshots in his chest and one in his head. His bright green eyes were still open and peering at me as I walked through the front door. Scáth was talking to the neighbor whose house Éadrom was at earlier that day. Apparently no one was able to reach the police yet since we had the cart and horses.

Kelly, that poor girl. That was the day she lost her innocence. That was the last day of her childhood. She walked in the door, saw that disgusting and frightening display, and in a state of shock walked up to her room in silence and didn't come out until the day after New Years. She had missed her parent's funeral, but I saw her watching from the window as we buried them behind the house. I don't think I ever heard her speak of them again, and I don't blame her. She came out that day to a new farm as a new person and resumed all of her mother's tasks and chores. In that week and a half that had passed Scáth had written to the other remaining workers telling them not to bother returning. I knew in my heart and soul Scáth was to blame for those murders. I could never prove it and I never tried. Why he kept me on the farm I never knew, but was I glad he did. Kelly needed looking after by someone who cared.

It was just the three of us on the farm after that. Just the three of us... until about three years later, when a 16 year old Kelly would give birth to a little girl the spitting image of her mother and grandmother. The spitting image, except she has her grandfathers eyes. And a name that to this day, 16 years later, I still can't pronounce.