9 december 1929
The front of the bank was hectic, people arguing with each other and with clerks about money that was lost as the world made less and less sense to them. The Roaring Twenties were ending, not with a celebratory shout, but with a deafening howl. In a back room, two men were discussing a similar problem; and finding themselves in no better condition.
"Oh come on, Charlie! You can't do this to me!" Jeremiah railed, hitting his hat against the desk. Charlie, the unfortunate man who had just informed his sixth client of the day that they had no stocks of value remaining, was trying and failing to clean his glasses, if to take his mind off of what his job had become. "I'm not doing it to you, sir," he replied, in an even tone. "I'm sorry to say that the world is in something of a panic right now, and those of us who have invested in the stock market are dealing with rather unprecedented failures." "I didn't fail nothin! I put my money where it was supposed to go, and now you're telling me it's just flittered away?" "That is not the best description of what has happened, but I suppose it will do." Jeremiah leaned over the desk and began jabbing it with his finger for emphasis. Charlie leaned back slightly in response. "Now listen here, I worked hard for that money, and I need it to get through this thing!" "Yes, well, that puts you in the same boat as everyone else, I'm afraid. We are all the same in the end, Mr. Matteson, and I suppose we are suddenly in this mess together." Jeremiah growled and glared at Charlie, who suddenly found his vision growing impaired and his breaths growing more difficult. "The one time a mortal actually thinks we're the same," he muttered, as the left side of Charlie's face began to droop and his arm went numb, "and it's some sniveling little roach who thinks I need more suffering in this life." "Sir...sir pleashe...doctor-" "I am sick and tired of every trace of humanity being nothing but weakness and loss! I'm done with you, all of you, do you hear me? From now on, I claim my rightful place!" Jeremiah stood up straight as Charlie tried reaching out, weakly, with his right hand. Jeremiah looked down at the hand, then scowled and waved his hand in front of Charlie's face. Instantly, Charlie's eyes glazed over and he froze, just for a moment, before blood began leaking from his ears and nose and his face fell onto his desk. Jeremiah turned toward the door, then stopped. "If I am spirit," he muttered, "maybe I can travel as one." He took a slow, measured breath, reached his hands out slowly, and stepped forward into the metaphysical realm.
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28 February 1925
Joanna slammed the door shut as she entered her home, a small shack on the Ohio River in southern Indiana. Jeremiah was sitting at the small table that occupied nearly half of the main room, and looked up from his newspaper when he heard the door.
"What did you do?!" she yelled, storming up to him and then standing, arms crossed tight across her stomach. "Now, mama, you have to know-" he started. "Just answer me, boy!" He sighed and set the newspaper down, then turned to face her. "I saved our house is what I did, and got nearly a year's wages out of it." "You nearly killed Mr. Robbins! I've only just managed to establish a life for us here, and if he turns against us-" "What kind of life is it?" Jeremiah screamed, standing so rapidly his chair slid back and fell over. "All of my life has been spent in tiny shacks, with barely enough food, watching you work a string of meager jobs for people that hate us! Why won't you let me find a better path for us?" "Because there's a darkness in you, Jeremiah, and your attempts to 'fix' this invariably include hurting people who look at you funny for your skin or your mom's habits." "They mean nothing! They're little, pathetic things, running around acting like everything of value is built on these little kingdoms they manage, ignorant of the world that exists all around them!" "These are human beings you're talking about, now." "And what good is that? I have the power to take this entire river off its course, and I need to play along to their rules? Fit in to their society? Who put them in charge of this?" he finally screamed, holding out his hands and floating as all the water in the sink and his glass rose up with him. "They matter because they're people! All that power don't make you more important than them!" "And all them books you lug around and read don't make you any different! You're punishing yourself! You'd rather keep people like Robbins happy while you waste your life away waiting for a man who'll never return, than let yourself have even a taste of what his power can give you! I think you prefer having him gone!" Joanna slapped Jeremiah hard across the face, and as he snapped out of his trance and fell the water in the air splashed to the ground. "You don't talk to me like that, boy. You don't know what I go through every single day." They both stayed where they are, Joanna standing next to the table and Jeremiah sitting on the floor, and stared at each other catching their breath. "You're never going to leave this river, are you?" he finally asked, softly. "I made my choice. I took my vows. I keep my word." He sat in silence another few moments, then slowly stood and dusted himself off. "I'm done, mom. I can't do this anymore." "Can't do what?" "Wait for him. Hide what I am. Live this life," he answered, indicating the cramped house with his hands. "It's time I go live my life." Tears started to form on Joanna's eyes. "No, please, Jeremiah, I'm sorry, I-" "It's not your fault. Not really. We just don't fit in the same world anymore." She reached for him, but he turned and walked into the side room. By the time he returned with a bag packed, she was sitting on the floor and sobbing. He paused, then flicked his fingers. The liquid from the tears came out of her clothes and off her face and landed in his cup. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he just gave a weak smile before turning and walking out. 22 december 1921Joanna was sitting by the fire knitting in her house just outside of Milton, Kentucky, when Jeremiah finally burst through the door. His arm was slung around Orville's shoulder and they were both laughing as Orville was trying to tell a story that quickly tapered off when he saw Joanna very calmly but decisively set her needles down and turn to glare at them.
"Ma'am," he said, clearing his throat and removing his hat. Jeremiah groaned and stood up straight next to him. "Mighty sorry 'bout it bein so late an'all, didn't mean to disturb ya." "You're quite alright, Orville. But if you wanna stay that way you best get home and leave my boy to set down right here for a talk." Orville nodded, then gave Jeremiah an apologetic look before slipping out into the night. Jeremiah made his way into the living room and sat down on the other chair facing the stone fireplace. "It was harmless, Ma. We was just out-" "Ain't worried about tonight, boy. You know damned well I don't mind Orville. It's about somethin happened at the railroad yesterday." Jeremiah sunk slightly further into his chair and fixed his eyes on the fire. Joanna watched him for a moment, then sighed. "You remember why we gotta keep moving so much, right?" "I could control my power better if you let me use it!" he said, sitting bolt upright. "Oh not this again! You know full well I let you use it just fine, just-" "'Not to get my own way,' I know, Ma. But what was I gonna do? They already been itchin to get rid of me over my skin, if that tank fell over I'd been out a job and probably worse, and where'd we be then?" "We got by just fine before the Pennsylvania Railroad came to town, we could get by again." She leaned over and put the knitting aside. "Oh, what, moving again? I don't even know what business you had hearin about it while you was down at the river all day anyway." "It was my anniversary, and I spent it with as much of my husband as I could! And if you don't want me hearing about your business you need to stop makin it so loud!" "Your husband, listen to yourself! He's gone! He ain't comin back, why we gotta keep waitin for him?" "I swore to God, Jeremiah, to be his til one of us dies, and ain't neither of us dead!" He stood and threw his hat at the wall. "He may as well be! What good's a husband can't keep his family fed, anyway?!" He stormed out of the room as Joanna tried to call him back. Once it was clear he wasn't returning, she sat and watched the fire for a few minutes before rising, putting on her coat and shoes, and walking down to the river. "Oh Abe," she said, sitting down on the beach. "Please, wherever you are, please come help me with this." It was two hours later when Jeremiah wandered down to the river's edge to find his mother asleep. "See what you've done now," he muttered at the water. He carried her inside, covered her up by the fire, and went to bed. 14 September 1918PORTIONS OF THE DAMAGED DIARY OF JOANNA WOZNIAK, AS RECOVERED BY THE POLICE DEPARTMENT OF ERIE, PA, ON THE EVENING OF MAY 28, 1974.Yester-day, Jeremiah had some conflict with a child at school and, in his rage, screamed at the other child. There are conflicting reports on exactly what happened next, but somehow the other child was thrown across the schoolyard and broke his arm. I could not help but remember the first time Abe met Rev. Halzberg and accidentally gave him the same injury. I don't need to know whether or not he touched the boy to understand what happened. I can now be certain he has his father's power. I apologized for his behavior, promised to address it, and we left in a hurry.
I spent some time praying at home before we went to the river. I sat on the bank and told Abe all that had happened, and begged him to return and help me. I don't know how to raise a child who can do the things he can do. I don't know how to help him. I don't even know where we can live without fear of condemnation. The river did not stir. No answers came, though we fell asleep on the shore waiting for them. The other families are avoiding us. I feared this day would come. There had already been rumors, thanks to a few times I was caught talking to the river, but now the people have made decisions about us. We must move, if we are to be safe. I've learned that much. But I cannot leave the river, not yet. We have packed our essentials and my books into the car and I identified a small town further downstream that I hope will be far enough to have not heard about us. I've explained the situation to Jeremiah. He's so bright, that boy, he seemed to understand implicitly and agreed to be more careful in future. I will go back to the river, tell Abe where he can find us before we set out. Lord, please let him respond this time. 3 January 1907PORTIONS OF THE DAMAGED DIARY OF JOANNA WOZNIAK, AS RECOVERED BY THE POLICE DEPARTMENT OF ERIE, PA, ON THE EVENING OF MAY 28, 1974.It has been two months since the weight of rejection and hatred in Allegheny forced me to take Jeremiah and move downstream. The people further west have not concerned themselves with the affairs of my home city, and had no reason to turn away a widow and her infant. It is difficult, allowing them to call me a widow, but it has been easier than the risk of telling them the truth. The fact that Jeremiah bears Indian features and dark skin has hindered our welcome, but not as bad as it could be. Even Marilyn asked us to leave, in the end. Brandon was attacked and she feared it was due to their affiliation with me. She cried when she turned me away, but I cannot allow that to to obscure the fact that she turned us away. I have gone to the river every day and spoken to Abe. I don't know if he hears me. He has certainly never replied. I have tried to keep him informed of our situation, where to find us, how quickly our son grows. His extended absence has made me worry. I threatened gods and spirits when he was taken from me, and if he is not returning and I am to continue going to the river, I must prepare for the possibility that I may be called on these words. I found a small, discrete bookseller in the next town, and have been able to secure a couple books on the occult with promises of more to come. I do not mean to dabble in witchcraft, but I must be prepared. I must know what will come for us, if anything, and how to defend against it. Lord grant that I never have to use this knowledge. 11 September 1906PORTIONS OF THE DAMAGED DIARY OF JOANNA WOZNIAK, AS RECOVERED BY THE POLICE DEPARTMENT OF ERIE, PA, ON THE EVENING OF MAY 28, 1974.Today I bore a son. I have named him Jeremiah Bazyli Matteson, he is strong and healthy and feeds well. I can see so much of his father in him, it almost hurts. 12 September, 1906The reverend had his hands full ever since taking over for the late Rev. Liam Halzberg. With the people of Allegheny fighting against Pittsburgh's attempts to annex the city, the fall of the Wozniak estate and its associated drama, and the usual issues of taking over a church in the wake of a beloved leader's death, he felt like he was always in the middle of some mess or another. He didn't particularly want to add the birth of the Matteson boy to his plate, but with pressure from his congregation that had been building for the past three months he felt it was in his best interest to do something. He was welcomed in by the doctor and led to Joanna's room, where he was warned that the child had recently fallen asleep and asked not to disturb him. The reverend agreed, then softly entered. He made his way to an armchair in the room and sat down. "Good morning, Ms. Matteson," he said, just loud enough for her to hear, while removing his hat. "I don't believe we've formally met." "I know who you are, Reverend, and a little of your opinion of me. The city does love to talk." "My congregation has told me about the circumstances surrounding your marriage, yes." "I can imagine how kind they were about it, seeing how they've treated my parents." He sighed, lowering his gaze and brushing some imaginary dust off his hat. "I have tried, of course. But I don't yet have the respect to really stop them. I doubt it will be an issue much longer, I'm told they're leaving the city." "And does that suit you, Reverend? To see them leave in disgrace and poor fortune, so long as you don't have to deal with it anymore?" "That is not-" "Why have you come?" He looked back at her and was met with a firm gaze. He swallowed hard, then attempted to meet her stare and brace himself against it. "The child." She turned, smiling as she placed her hand on the edge of Jeremiah's basket. "I'm sure it's not what you see, but he's beautiful, isn't he?" "I think we both know, ma'am, that he isn't...human." "He's human enough. I should know." "Joanna, his father-" Her face snapped back to the reverend, and he flinched as her gaze borrowed into his skull. "His father is gone, maybe forever, because of this mindset. This hatred for what you don't understand, this rejection of people who need your help but don't see the world how you do. Are you like them, Reverend? Are you here to condemn a lost man and his son whose only sin was being born? Is that all your collar is good for?" He glanced to Jeremiah, who stirred a bit at her tone. "Joanna, I-" "Look me in the eye and say what you've come to say." He turned his face to her, straightened his back and hardened his voice. "There is no place in this community for that demon-spawn, and there never will be. Your desire to carry it to term is admirable, if misguided, but now you must choose whether to turn it aside and return to the people who care about your soul, or commit fully to this godless path you've been walking." They stared at each other for a long moment. "I will raise my son, Reverend." Her voice was cold and steady. "With or without you, with or without his father. I will not abandon my own flesh and blood to appease those who have already rejected me. Good day, sir." "Ms. Matteson, you must consider-" "I said good day." She turned to soothe Jeremiah, who was beginning to fuss in his sleep. The reverend stood, put his hat back on, and straightened his shirt. His eyes narrowed at he looked at the child, then he turned and left the room. |
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