June 18, 2025 • 41 mins
A haunting melody becomes the thread between love, loss, and the mysterious forces that blur the line between life and death.
C.S. Fuqua’s books include Fatherhood ~ Poems of Parenthood, Walking After Midnight ~ Collected Stories, Big Daddy’s Fast-Past Gadget, Native American Flute ~ A Comprehensive Guide, and White Trash & Southern ~ Collected Poems. His work has appeared in publications such as Year's Best Horror Stories XIX, XX and XXI, Pudding, The Horror Show, Pearl, Chiron Review, Christian Science Monitor, The Old Farmer's Almanac, The Writer, and Honolulu Magazine.
Photo by Raghavendra V. Konkathi on Unsplash
You can read "Rise Up" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
Other stories by C. S. Fuqua featured on the podcast:
Obon
Contrition
Photo by Hashem Al-Hebshi on Unsplash
Follow us on:
Instagram
Facebook
Bluesky
Substack
C.S. Fuqua’s books include Fatherhood ~ Poems of Parenthood, Walking After Midnight ~ Collected Stories, Big Daddy’s Fast-Past Gadget, Native American Flute ~ A Comprehensive Guide, and White Trash & Southern ~ Collected Poems. His work has appeared in publications such as Year's Best Horror Stories XIX, XX and XXI, Pudding, The Horror Show, Pearl, Chiron Review, Christian Science Monitor, The Old Farmer's Almanac, The Writer, and Honolulu Magazine.
Photo by Raghavendra V. Konkathi on Unsplash
You can read "Rise Up" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
Other stories by C. S. Fuqua featured on the podcast:
Obon
Contrition
Photo by Hashem Al-Hebshi on Unsplash
Follow us on:
Bluesky
Substack
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:10):
Welcome to the kaid On Podcasts, where every story takes
you one step deeper into the world of the strange,
the eerie, and the unknown. I'm your host, Linda Gould,
and tonight I'm reading Rise Up by C. S. Fuqua.
It's a story that explores the power of music and
how grief and longing can open doors that we never
(00:31):
knew existed. Some say music can heal, others say it
can summon. But what happens when a melody becomes something more,
something that dares to challenge the boundary between life and death. C. S.
Fuqua is an author. His books include Fatherhood, Poems of Parenthood,
(00:54):
Walking After Midnight, Collected Stories, and many others. Also, his
work has appeared in publications such as Year's Best Horror
Stories nineteen twenty and twenty one, The Horror Show, Christian
Science Monitor, and many many more. You can see his
(01:14):
full bio in the episode description. The lyrics to two
songs are sung as part of the story, but without music.
Be sure to listen to the end of the podcast
to hear the song as the composer intended. So now
din the lights, settle in and prepare yourself for Rise
(01:35):
Up by c s Fuqua Enjoy. Winn shouted Bobby's name.
The guitar case in the backseat bounced against the ceiling,
then back down again. Undergrowth tore at the car, and
a tree slammed into the passenger side. Airbags exploded. Time suspended,
(02:00):
lifted his head off the steering wheel, groggy, confused, His
right eye crusted shut. The deflated air bag slid slowly
down the wheel. He raised a trembling, heavy hand and
touched above his eye. Damp and sticky, His head lolled
(02:20):
back against the headrest as he tried to get his bearings.
He swallowed hard and forced the crust to give way,
his eye to open. His head throbbed, but he remembered
the deer he'd yanked the wheel, and everything slowed, the
car shooting into the woods, limbs and brush slapping the sides.
(02:43):
Win shouting his name, Win, He groaned and reached for her.
In the dashlight's emerald glow. His fingers found her hair,
then her shoulders, and he grasped and pulled her as
close as he could, her head flopping hard against him.
Speaker 2 (03:00):
Whin.
Speaker 1 (03:01):
He tried to brace her up, but he didn't have
the strength, and her body slumped to the side. He
felt her neck for a pulse that wasn't there. Bobby
pushed open the door and struggled into the darkness, nearly
fainting as he stumbled through the brush to the passenger
side to find it curved inward against a massive oak.
(03:24):
He clambered back around, falling twice in the thick growth.
He crouched into the driver's seat, reaching over to wind
to shift her body so he could grip her under
the arms to ease her out through the driver's side.
He braced, pulled, and collapsed. Darkness pressed in for several
terrifying seconds before he regained full awareness. He held Win
(03:48):
as close as possible, mumbling, don't die, don't die, don't die.
Not now. Bobby buried his face in her hair, the
essence of winds muted fragrance, engulfing him the same as
it had that first day. He met her at Sharps
and Flats, the dilapidated music shop near the docks. She
(04:08):
was new there, a point of pride for the old
woman who ran the place. A strangely fascinating coot rumored
to talk to her instruments. What was it? The old
woman had told him that day music's a conduit Son,
Some even believe it has power over life and death.
Bobby checked again for a pulse, nothing. With his strength gone,
(04:34):
he prayed the old woman hadn't played him for a fool. Breathlessly,
he began to sing Bobby spotted sharps and flats the
first time the band played the derelict Downtown Performance Center
two blocks away. The band's performance was the center's last
before being raised with neighboring bars and strip joints in
(04:56):
the city's effort to revitalize the area with upscale shot
nightclubs and restaurants. The plan's one exception had been the
old Music Shop. Despite the building's tired appearance, with boxes
stacked before the small front window, each filled with sheet
music dating back ten decades or more, the window always
(05:16):
sporting the same beat up Gibson rumored to have been
played by Robert Johnson. Despite all of that, or perhaps
because of it, city bigwigs left the shop alone. It
possessed a certain quaintness that politicians hoped would attract other
offbeat businesses to create a genuine bohemian section that could
(05:37):
prove a boon to city coffers. Bobby soon became a
regular at the shop, trying out instruments that he could
never hope to own. Two years after the performance center's
demolition and the band began playing the new upscale clubs downtown,
Bobby met Win. She'd been with Sharps and Flats about
a week. He'd needed a set of strings, but when
(05:59):
he spotted her through the window behind the counter, he
decided to try out a few of the mandolmins as
an excuse to stay longer. The old lady who owned
the place had perched herself as usual, in a chair
on the sidewalk next to the old boxes of sheet music.
No matter how much of that music sold, the boxes
never emptied. She grinned as he approached, bracing herself with
(06:20):
hands on her knees, dressed and dipping between her legs
as she sat forward with one eye squinting up at him.
Heard you all play and last night, she said. As
Bobby came up, he shrugged, nice club, but I missed
the old joints.
Speaker 3 (06:37):
There.
Speaker 1 (06:38):
I'll be back, she snorted. People like what they like,
and it all goes in cycles. So what do you think?
The woman nodded appreciatively and leaned toward him, approbing seriousness
playing in her eyes. Just keep your head when the
time comes, I'd think this, Bobby thought, and he glanced
(07:01):
away that newspaper review Ashore did like you, she said,
Bobby laughed. I saw that the band he quoted in
an affected tone of superiority, approaches the performance and history
of bluegrass music with creative sensitivity not evident since the
(07:22):
New Grass Revival, Especially like how he said, we blend
genres into something ancient, spiritual, and new. How can it
be ancient and new at the same time? Beats me?
But at least he liked us, and that's what counts.
The old lady straightened somewhat, her gaze going to something
(07:44):
in the distance. Where I come from. Music's got a
lot of power. Folks. Well, they don't talk about it much,
but some possess a special quality that sets them above others,
like you. Bobby shook his head. M We're just lucky.
(08:05):
I ain't talking about the band, and I ain't talking
about just music ability. The lines on her face deepened
as her gaze came back to him. Powers powers, son,
I come from the Appalachians, back home. Folks recognize what's
special and We've used it ever since our ancestors came
(08:29):
from Scotland and Ireland and married in with the sloggy Indians.
Bobby smiled, but the old woman fixed him with her glare.
Don't pretend, boy, you've felt what I'm talking about. Music
can lift up, drag down, inspire, destroy. She swept her
(08:52):
hand around. Spirit runs through everything. You learned to channel
that spirit, you can do wonders. Music's a conduit, son,
Some say it's even got power over life and death.
Bobby shifted and smiled uncomfortably. The old woman gave a
(09:15):
mildly amonishing shake of her head. You'll understand soon enough.
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. Then
she grinned, and the moon lightened. She nodded toward the door.
You ain't here for an old woman's talk. I got
a new helper inside. She can take care of you.
(09:35):
She sat heavily back, founding herself into the growing humidity
and heat at the bottom of her long, billowy blouse.
Well then Bobby took a step up, but misconnected on
the stairs edge and stumbled in, setting the old woman
to chuckling as his face flushed embarrassment. Beneath the damp,
musty pungency of age, Bobby detected the subtle aroma of
(09:57):
something comforting and eternal, perhaps the of wood instruments, the
smell of perfection. Mandolins, Banjos guitars lined the walls, interspersed
with more exotic instruments such as oods, chiny sends, a
saz and even a leer guitar. A couple of tailors, Martins, Gibsons,
and Gallaghers were there, but other instruments as impeccably crafted
(10:21):
or better than the best of the big names bore
no brand at all. Bobby started toward the back, circling
around the huge middle rack that crowded most of the
narrow room space. A young woman straightened behind a small
counter between him and the back wall that bore the
most immaculate string the instruments he'd ever seen. Their wood
looked almost alive. He knew no other way to describe it,
(10:46):
and Bobby sensed the wall resonating just beyond hearing range.
The young woman placed her hands on top of the case,
her left hand clutching a dust cloth. May I help you?
She was no beauty queen, but dimples punctuated a compassionate smile,
while downy chestnut hair framed dark, mysterious eyes that beckoned
(11:10):
Bobby into a place where he knew he could lose himself.
She stood about as tall as Bobby, a sturdy frame
that exuded a certain calm strength. He wanted strings, but
he muttered something about looking for a new mandolin in
a band. Pensacola, he said, and he noted the spark
(11:30):
of recognition in her eyes. Oh, I thought you looked familiar.
I saw you a few months back, she said. You
guys are good. We do okay. I guess you play
an instrument, he asked, but before she could answer other questions,
stumbled out, even to his surprise, do you sing? What's
your name? Perform? Wanna have dinner some time? He stopped,
(11:52):
suddenly his face warming as she grinned names. When a yes,
Bobby's brow narrowed.
Speaker 3 (12:00):
Yes to.
Speaker 1 (12:02):
The first, third, and last questions, she chuckled, I sing,
and I sort of played guitar, but mostly sing. I
haven't been in a band yet, and I'd love to
have dinner. Two weeks later, win Seaver assumed management of
Bobby's band and started singing back up The following week,
she worked her last day at Sharps and Flats and
(12:23):
moved in with Bobby. Bobby stopped in at Sharps and
Flats on Wind's final day, and the old woman waddled
back to the counter where he was looking over the
instruments on the wall. Beautifully ain't day. Bobby nodded what brand?
Pride softened the age lines that wrinkled the woman's face,
(12:44):
Brand don't matter. She selected the same tear drop mandolin
he'd played the day he met Win. The headstock had
a small blemish, perhaps a burn from some careless player's cigarette,
pinched between the wood and strings, but Bobby was struck
by the lightness and feel of the instrument. He strummed
a few times and then began to pick his own tune,
(13:06):
Mandestophile's notes, ringing with such sustain and clarity that he
held his breath Abruptly, he stopped and handed the instrument
back to the old woman, shaking his head. I can't
afford this, so I'd best stop. He glanced around, catching
a glimpse from Wind, who was helping another customer with
a guitar. The old lady placed the mandolin carefully back
(13:29):
on his hanger. Hain't it funny, she said, huffing slightly
from the effort. She turned back to him embraced herself
on the counter. Happy tunes like that one you just
played can lift people out of the deepest holes. Sad
ones can send them crashing to the bottom. She leaned
(13:50):
toward him, nodding slightly, like God told you music's got power.
The right words malady, sincerity. She nodded again and waddled
off to the other end of the counter. You let
me know if you want to try another one. Bobby
(14:12):
sensed Wynn's closeness before her hand touched his shoulder. Her eyes,
deep and resonant, flashed between Bobby and the old woman.
You're going to buy it. It's a fine mandolin, he admitted,
but cash is definitely a problem. He stepped away from
the counter, calling thanks to the old woman. He kissed
Win on the cheek. I'll pick you up later, he said,
(14:33):
and started out a vague uneasiness gnawing at him. Win
and Bobby endured good nature jibing from the other band
members as their dependence on an attraction to one another grew,
cultivating a deep, enduring understanding an ability to anticipate and
act without words. Under Wind's management, the band's reputation grew
(14:57):
as one of the hardest working groups on the circuit,
delivering a unique sound bound for national recognition. Even Bobby
began to believe the band would break out. By the
time Pensacola played Baton Rouge, a loyal fan base had
begun promoting them as much as they promoted themselves. Wynn
had invited a sugar Hill Records producer to attend, and
(15:18):
Bobby hoped the crowd's boisterous cheering would help secure a
record deal. Bobby lost himself in the music that night,
and he began to feel the power that sharps and
flats women had talked about. The final set ended after
the crowd called the band back for two encores. Nearly
two hundred of the band's self produced CDs sold that night,
(15:39):
not bad for a bar venue where music usually competed,
with patrons shouting their intentions to their dates. As applause
died and the crowd turned to canned music and negotiations
for evening company, the band's members gathered expectantly around wyn
She shrugged, he couldn't make it, so why are you
(15:59):
so smiling. Kyle, the guitarist, his voice thick with disappointment,
dug in his pocket for a cigarette lighter. He couldn't
make it, but he called we and said, tapping her
cell phone with her forefinger, He's flying in early tomorrow
to meet with us, which means we have to load
up and drive back tonight. Kyle groaned, Oh, that's a
(16:24):
long drive for a record contract. It's worth a little
lost sleep. Bobby and I can drive back tonight. We
should get home around two or three in the morning.
We can meet with him first thing tomorrow to go
over business aspects, and if you guys would rather drive
back in the morning, we can play for him tomorrow night.
Sounds good to me, Kyle said, I'll take a couple
(16:46):
of hours to pack up anyway. Frank and Richard agreed,
and they told wyn and Bobby to head out, that
they'd take care of the equipment. Shortly after ten, city
lights faded behind them as Bobby eased down on the gas.
Once on the interstate, Wynn placed for can of rupeer
and the cup holder next to the gearshift between the
seats and slipped off the seat belt. She drew her
(17:08):
feet into the seat, curled her legs under her and
nozzled close to Bobby. He put his arm around her
and didn't take it away until shortly after one a m.
When he directed the car down the exit toward town
and home. Still well north of the city, a mesmerizing
tangle of limbs and leaves flashed past in the edge
(17:30):
of the headlight's beam. His eyes began to close. He nodded,
startling himself, and jerked the wheel slightly. He drew a
deep breath and shook his head violently to fight the drowsiness.
Wynn sighed and cuddled against the door, head resting on
the glass. Bobby shifted in the seat and his knee
(17:51):
knocked the open drink. He grabbed for the can as
it fell, his foot going down hard on the pedal.
As a deer bounded into the road, Bobby yanked the
wheel hard to the right and hit the brakes. The
car careened and the tires hit the soft shoulder, fish
tailing into the woods and slamming sideways into a tree.
(18:18):
Don't die, Don't Die. Bobby checked Wind's neck for a
pulse and then rummaged frantically through the car, finally locating
his cell phone in the floorboard crushed. He struggled again
to get her out, but fell back As blackness rushed
in threatening unconsciousness. His throat swelled with emotion. He buried
(18:39):
his face in her hair. As the sharps and flats
woman began to murmur softly in memory. Voices argued in
his mind, one deriding the notion, the other insisting he
had nothing to lose. What did it matter. If it
didn't work, he'd lose nothing more. But if it did
work softly at first, words emerged in a shaky tenor.
Speaker 4 (19:06):
Raso, ras up, my lovely darling. The powers must hear
this cannot be. Raso RaSE up my lovely darling, restore
so give her back to me. This life is short,
(19:29):
even when it's long. I will not accept this wrong.
Deals I'll make and spells our chain to bring my
love back home. Love is the music, the music in
(19:50):
our hearts. Ras Up my darling song. Love is the key,
the key in a god hear me power, send her home.
Rasm ras up, my lovely darling. The powers must you
(20:13):
this cannot be. Rasm ras up my lovely darling, Restore
her soul. Giver back to me.
Speaker 1 (20:25):
Rasm, his voice faded in the snapping pop of metal
cooling and the chant of forest insects. He wept into
her hair, grasping at her, trying to draw her even closer,
only to stop in an abrupt gasp. Wind shivered and
moaned softly. She raised her head, eyes cloudy. It's okay,
(20:48):
Bobby's just bounded. We had an accident, the old woman.
He shook his head in denial at the thought I
missed these, that's all. His fingers traced Wind's cheek, bruised
and pallid in the dim light, and for the first
time he noticed blood on his hand, from a long,
(21:09):
shallow cut that ran from elbow to wrist. We need
to get to a hospital. No, she shook her head slowly.
Inside home Win Home, Bobby turned the ignition key and
the engine kicked over once twice and caught. He shifted
(21:30):
into reverse, and the metal on the passenger side protested
as it pulled away from the tree. The car made
at home, and he parked in the backyard where it
would be out of sight, and questioned for at least
for now. Bobby's head throbbed as he forced Wind's door
open and helped her out. He slammed the door shut
as Wind leaned against him for support that he could
(21:52):
barely give. They walked stiffly, as though each step had
to be planned. Inside the house, he helped Wind removed
her jeans and blood streaked blouse due to the cut
on her neck that had crusted over her skin shone
milky in the cold bathroom light, and faint bruises dotted
her arms and back. But what worried Bobby were her
(22:13):
lower legs and feet. They appeared pale, purple and swollen.
We need to see a doctor tomorrow, Wind said in
her raspy voice. She stepped into the shower and steam
boiled up around her As she clutched her arms tightly
across her breast shoulders rounded bloody water cascading off her
(22:35):
body and swirling down the drain. Her lips had turned
a deep shade of blue and a gray face. By
the time she stepped from the shower into the towel
that Bobby wrapped around her. He dried her carefully, worried
about the depth of the gash on her neck, although
stumped as to why it wasn't bleeding, He helped her
to bed. When he began, just let me rest. She
(23:01):
closed her eyes and rolled away, drawing the covers up.
Bobby returned to the bathroom and stripped, leaving his bloody
clothes in a pile. He braced himself against the sink
and stared into the mirror. His skin glowed like fresh
strawberries compared to Winds. He showered quickly and dried, feeling
somewhat revived by the steamy bath. The vertigo had lightened,
(23:23):
but he was convinced that they both should see a doctor.
He glanced at the clock near the medicine cabinet, already
three a m. He remembered the producer, but the record
company would simply have to wait. He and Wynn needed
medical attention resolved. Bobby pulled on clean briefs and came
out of the bathroom to find Wind sitting against the headboard,
(23:45):
covers clutched around her. Bobby settled on the bed and
Wind moved into his embrace. The covers cascaded to the mattress.
His hand appeared blazingly pink against the pale violet of
her skin. Wherever he touched he left marks, as though
he pressed the blood into other areas. My fingers are stiff.
(24:09):
Wind's words slurred slightly. The cuts don't bleed. There's no pain, Bobby,
she whispered, I'm scared. Bobby moved around for a better
look and found Wind's eyes half open, her face clenching.
(24:33):
When we went off the road, she said, things went
black and then I was floating. She closed her eyes
and her head tilted slightly back. Something's wrong, Bobby, something terrible.
(24:58):
Bobby held her for several long moments and then ease
her down in bed. He drew the blanket up around
her and rose to dress, but Wynn caught his hand
and he grimaced as pain shot through the cut on
his arm. Look at me, Bobby met her pleading eyes,
and he saw the milky fog of death seeping in.
(25:19):
I'll catch you to a hospital. It's too late, Winn murmured.
She looked up, her face drawn, and wan, look at
my body cuts, my skin. I am She struggled for
the specific word, but what she tried to say would
(25:42):
not come. What happened? What have you done, Bobby?
Speaker 2 (25:50):
What?
Speaker 1 (25:52):
He settled back on the bedside, his head hanging, His
voice quavered. You weren't breathing. I couldn't find a pulse.
I couldn't get you out. He avoided her eyes, but
that didn't allow him to avoid the truth. What could
What should he tell her that the sharps and flats
(26:14):
Woman's mountain magic had pulled Wind's soul back into a
dead body. I shouldn't be here. Why did you? The
words slurred unintelligibly, and her arms drew awkwardly inward. Bobby,
Bobby rose and dressed quickly. Wind stretched her neck back
(26:37):
and struggled to extend her arms. She gazed up through
fogged eyes, dead and alive. Bobby detected sad amusement in
her voice. She rolled her head around, stretching the neck muscles,
then lay still to stare at the ceiling. Deep sorrow
(27:00):
and Guild threatened to suffocate Bobby for what he'd done
to Win. I'm going to go to the old woman.
Winn reached toward him, the effort showing in her face.
Take me with you, Bobby trembled with possibility. How could
the witch refuse him? With Win at his side, with
his strength returning by degree, he lifted Win into his
(27:23):
aching arms with a grunt and carried her to the
car to lay her in the back. Seat, her body
gradually contracting in on itself. Winded. Bobby slid in behind
the wheel and started the engine, his mind centered on
the sharps and flats woman. With a final shake, the
(27:44):
engine went silent. Music wafted through the streets from the
upscale bottle clubs. These places afforded the band occasional work,
but the jukes they had replaced had provided steady gigs
without the want to be pretenders to whom the new
clubs catered Bobby most were the ones who believed that
mere conversation about music with a musician qualified them as artists.
(28:07):
Wind moaned and Bobby twisted around in the seat. Her
eyes had become increasingly glazed, the pupils milky and cold,
where she managed lie still, I'll be right back. Bobby
opened the door and crossed the sidewalk, raising a fist
to bang on the sharps and flat stoor, But the
knob turned before the first knock, and the ancient door
(28:29):
opened on rusty hinges. The squat old woman stepped into
the dark doorway, a soft whisper of music emanating from
within the store. I need help, Bobby said. The old
woman's mouth puckered in consideration, and she nodded toward the car. Ah,
you believe what I told you. Now make her right,
(28:51):
Bobby pleaded. The old woman's eyes narrowed. I can't undo
what I didn't do. Bobby's shoulders sank on the weight
of desperation. Then tell me, tell me how I can.
The old woman stepped down from the doorway and with
a gentle hand turned him back toward his car. He
felt a vague tingle where her fingers touched a cold fire,
(29:15):
igniting the molecules you called only her soul back. Bobby's
thoughts reeled, and he realized the song never mentioned the
restoration of life to Win's body. I'll do it now,
I'll sing for what's done is done, the old woman said.
(29:35):
Her body's dead. Bobby trembled before the woman, his head
shaking in denial of the obvious. I didn't know, ignorance.
Don't make it right, son, the old woman said, give
it thought this time, and the words will come. Do
(29:56):
what you have to do for her. The old woman
turned and with a soft grunt, stepped back into the store.
She closed the door, giving it a good shove to
lock it in place. The light inside winked out, leaving
Bobby drenched in the amber glow of street lamps. A
(30:17):
car lurched out of its parking space down the street
and reved past a few seconds later, the driver leering
out the window at him, all eyes and teeth gleaming
in a wretched grin. As the car accelerated away, Bobby
glanced skyward, wishing for an alternative he knew did not exist.
The paleness of the eastern sky hinted the coming noon day.
(30:40):
Bobby opened the back door and lay down in the seat,
with wind molding himself to her. Where are we? Her
words were barely audible, strained and raspy. Bobby's caress tightened,
his eyes, clouding. He held her for several long moments,
(31:04):
delaying what he knew he had to do, the coldness
of her skin emphasizing the inevitable. Finally, he drew a
breath against the tightening in his throat and began to sing,
his voice fractured and trembling, the tune mournful and filled
(31:25):
with regret.
Speaker 4 (31:28):
I could not take the sudden lost that send my
love beyond the guiding power sin becker soul, but failed
to make her whole some day my time will come
(31:52):
to and in and then our storyto perhaps with hello understand,
and then join our souls. When the body's only a
hollow shell. Our time should be done. We can't cast
(32:19):
streams intuitioning wells our loves musco on, go on, lie down,
lie down, and rest your so.
Speaker 2 (32:40):
Lie down, lie down, love, behold.
Speaker 5 (32:50):
Be hole.
Speaker 1 (32:53):
As he sang. When's milky eyes closed as he whispered
something but he could not make out. He tried to
convince himself that she whispered her love for him, but
she could have been damning him for all he knew.
As the words passed her lips, the sharps and flat's
interior ignited in a single brilliant pulse of light and
(33:16):
then went dark once again. Bobby's voice fell to silence
as Wind lay dead in his arms for the second
time that night. As he held her with his face
buried in her hair, several cars passed, their drivers, leaving
the bottle clubs that were closing. Despite the night's hopeless
struggle to survive the coming dawn, Bobby drew a deep,
(33:39):
steadying breath and slipped his arm out from under Wind's body.
He got out of the car and straightened slowly, his
eyes still on Wind, now a bizarre illusion of calm,
even as her muscles continued to tighten and contract abruptly.
He circled around the car and pried open the passenger door.
(34:00):
He came back around, lifted Wind's body out, and returned
to the passenger side to place her in the seat.
He slammed the battered door closed twice before it locked.
He got in behind the wheel, started the engine, and
drove slowly away. City lights vanished in the rear view mirror.
Bobby settled back, arms aching hands, clutching the wheel as
(34:24):
his foot pressed the accelerator down until it rested against
the floor. Sign markers and trees flickered past in the
headlight's margin. A sign warned of a sharp curve ahead,
and Bobby's mind A drink spilled, and the terrified eyes
of a deer appeared in the road. He yanked the
wheel and woods rushed in. What a sad story. What
(34:55):
I'd loved about this story was how it explores our
refusal to accept loss, our desperation to have someone we
love come back. It's the Monkeys Paul all over, but
with music and mystery. And it still resonates. But what
made this story special to me was Wind's experience. She
(35:17):
returns from the other side, not with clarity or comfort
or eagerness, but with confusion and fear and pain, and
that feels honest. She didn't ask to come back, and
she knows that something is wrong, that she doesn't belong
and yet again, love shows the way because she trusts
(35:41):
Bobby and their love enough that he'll make the right decision.
She got her wish and I guess in the end
he got his too, And that's part of grief too,
when we think that we can't go on without the
person we lost. Cis Fuqua recently released an album called
Past the Biscuits that's definitely worth your time. Under the
(36:04):
risk of sounding haughty, like the reviewer and the story,
it's thoughtful and soulful and definitely worth listening to. It's
available on bandcamp and I'll put a link to that
in the episode description too. The Kaiiton Kai has so
many interesting stories, some like this, some that are funny,
some that are romances, vampires, monsters, you name it. It's
(36:28):
every genre. So please subscribe to the podcast and check
out the substack to see comments. By authors about their inspiration.
I also occasionally post art that I like any kind
of art, music, paintings, poetry. I post those on various
social media so you can follow me on Instagram, Facebook,
(36:52):
Blue Sky, or substack. That's all in the episode description.
So thank you for listening today. And now here is
the music version of Rise Up by C. S Fuqua.
Speaker 5 (37:10):
Ras Rass Students Stuffy, raz rass don storm song, raza
(37:35):
shorty win.
Speaker 3 (37:37):
Swap will love strove so spells a ch.
Speaker 5 (37:54):
Razer ras as.
Speaker 6 (38:02):
Rass some mother doll I just student scannoffee raza press
a Moho doll store.
Speaker 2 (38:16):
So give the fact to me.
Speaker 5 (38:20):
Rass A fairs true.
Speaker 2 (38:28):
And this is why.
Speaker 3 (38:29):
The something it spells a change to break my.
Speaker 5 (38:43):
Ras raspress a moddlling the powers a student skenofy rasa
ras anally dog storm, So.
Speaker 2 (39:06):
Give a fact.
Speaker 5 (39:09):
Razo listen music you sing in our hearts.
Speaker 2 (39:17):
Or listen my dog so.
Speaker 4 (39:26):
The heart give me out s.
Speaker 2 (39:32):
Razo raz as a.
Speaker 3 (40:04):
Side short It's weird song happen said this strong dis
a may give spells change call.
Speaker 7 (40:24):
Brazo, ras as rassom dog bus studskinnot be here.
Speaker 2 (40:40):
Ras Russ darling stom So. Give U back to Razo.
Listen music you sing in our hearts Bruss my Doll,
(41:01):
Sol Game Game, Give me a listener. Razafer Raza ras
(41:22):
plado Dollar Friends, mischievous cannot be Raza ras a plan
of fifth dollar.
Speaker 4 (41:35):
Restore your so give a fact to me
Speaker 2 (41:40):
Ras raz
Welcome to the kaid On Podcasts, where every story takes
you one step deeper into the world of the strange,
the eerie, and the unknown. I'm your host, Linda Gould,
and tonight I'm reading Rise Up by C. S. Fuqua.
It's a story that explores the power of music and
how grief and longing can open doors that we never
(00:31):
knew existed. Some say music can heal, others say it
can summon. But what happens when a melody becomes something more,
something that dares to challenge the boundary between life and death. C. S.
Fuqua is an author. His books include Fatherhood, Poems of Parenthood,
(00:54):
Walking After Midnight, Collected Stories, and many others. Also, his
work has appeared in publications such as Year's Best Horror
Stories nineteen twenty and twenty one, The Horror Show, Christian
Science Monitor, and many many more. You can see his
(01:14):
full bio in the episode description. The lyrics to two
songs are sung as part of the story, but without music.
Be sure to listen to the end of the podcast
to hear the song as the composer intended. So now
din the lights, settle in and prepare yourself for Rise
(01:35):
Up by c s Fuqua Enjoy. Winn shouted Bobby's name.
The guitar case in the backseat bounced against the ceiling,
then back down again. Undergrowth tore at the car, and
a tree slammed into the passenger side. Airbags exploded. Time suspended,
(02:00):
lifted his head off the steering wheel, groggy, confused, His
right eye crusted shut. The deflated air bag slid slowly
down the wheel. He raised a trembling, heavy hand and
touched above his eye. Damp and sticky, His head lolled
(02:20):
back against the headrest as he tried to get his bearings.
He swallowed hard and forced the crust to give way,
his eye to open. His head throbbed, but he remembered
the deer he'd yanked the wheel, and everything slowed, the
car shooting into the woods, limbs and brush slapping the sides.
(02:43):
Win shouting his name, Win, He groaned and reached for her.
In the dashlight's emerald glow. His fingers found her hair,
then her shoulders, and he grasped and pulled her as
close as he could, her head flopping hard against him.
Speaker 2 (03:00):
Whin.
Speaker 1 (03:01):
He tried to brace her up, but he didn't have
the strength, and her body slumped to the side. He
felt her neck for a pulse that wasn't there. Bobby
pushed open the door and struggled into the darkness, nearly
fainting as he stumbled through the brush to the passenger
side to find it curved inward against a massive oak.
(03:24):
He clambered back around, falling twice in the thick growth.
He crouched into the driver's seat, reaching over to wind
to shift her body so he could grip her under
the arms to ease her out through the driver's side.
He braced, pulled, and collapsed. Darkness pressed in for several
terrifying seconds before he regained full awareness. He held Win
(03:48):
as close as possible, mumbling, don't die, don't die, don't die.
Not now. Bobby buried his face in her hair, the
essence of winds muted fragrance, engulfing him the same as
it had that first day. He met her at Sharps
and Flats, the dilapidated music shop near the docks. She
(04:08):
was new there, a point of pride for the old
woman who ran the place. A strangely fascinating coot rumored
to talk to her instruments. What was it? The old
woman had told him that day music's a conduit Son,
Some even believe it has power over life and death.
Bobby checked again for a pulse, nothing. With his strength gone,
(04:34):
he prayed the old woman hadn't played him for a fool. Breathlessly,
he began to sing Bobby spotted sharps and flats the
first time the band played the derelict Downtown Performance Center
two blocks away. The band's performance was the center's last
before being raised with neighboring bars and strip joints in
(04:56):
the city's effort to revitalize the area with upscale shot
nightclubs and restaurants. The plan's one exception had been the
old Music Shop. Despite the building's tired appearance, with boxes
stacked before the small front window, each filled with sheet
music dating back ten decades or more, the window always
(05:16):
sporting the same beat up Gibson rumored to have been
played by Robert Johnson. Despite all of that, or perhaps
because of it, city bigwigs left the shop alone. It
possessed a certain quaintness that politicians hoped would attract other
offbeat businesses to create a genuine bohemian section that could
(05:37):
prove a boon to city coffers. Bobby soon became a
regular at the shop, trying out instruments that he could
never hope to own. Two years after the performance center's
demolition and the band began playing the new upscale clubs downtown,
Bobby met Win. She'd been with Sharps and Flats about
a week. He'd needed a set of strings, but when
(05:59):
he spotted her through the window behind the counter, he
decided to try out a few of the mandolmins as
an excuse to stay longer. The old lady who owned
the place had perched herself as usual, in a chair
on the sidewalk next to the old boxes of sheet music.
No matter how much of that music sold, the boxes
never emptied. She grinned as he approached, bracing herself with
(06:20):
hands on her knees, dressed and dipping between her legs
as she sat forward with one eye squinting up at him.
Heard you all play and last night, she said. As
Bobby came up, he shrugged, nice club, but I missed
the old joints.
Speaker 3 (06:37):
There.
Speaker 1 (06:38):
I'll be back, she snorted. People like what they like,
and it all goes in cycles. So what do you think?
The woman nodded appreciatively and leaned toward him, approbing seriousness
playing in her eyes. Just keep your head when the
time comes, I'd think this, Bobby thought, and he glanced
(07:01):
away that newspaper review Ashore did like you, she said,
Bobby laughed. I saw that the band he quoted in
an affected tone of superiority, approaches the performance and history
of bluegrass music with creative sensitivity not evident since the
(07:22):
New Grass Revival, Especially like how he said, we blend
genres into something ancient, spiritual, and new. How can it
be ancient and new at the same time? Beats me?
But at least he liked us, and that's what counts.
The old lady straightened somewhat, her gaze going to something
(07:44):
in the distance. Where I come from. Music's got a
lot of power. Folks. Well, they don't talk about it much,
but some possess a special quality that sets them above others,
like you. Bobby shook his head. M We're just lucky.
(08:05):
I ain't talking about the band, and I ain't talking
about just music ability. The lines on her face deepened
as her gaze came back to him. Powers powers, son,
I come from the Appalachians, back home. Folks recognize what's
special and We've used it ever since our ancestors came
(08:29):
from Scotland and Ireland and married in with the sloggy Indians.
Bobby smiled, but the old woman fixed him with her glare.
Don't pretend, boy, you've felt what I'm talking about. Music
can lift up, drag down, inspire, destroy. She swept her
(08:52):
hand around. Spirit runs through everything. You learned to channel
that spirit, you can do wonders. Music's a conduit, son,
Some say it's even got power over life and death.
Bobby shifted and smiled uncomfortably. The old woman gave a
(09:15):
mildly amonishing shake of her head. You'll understand soon enough.
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. Then
she grinned, and the moon lightened. She nodded toward the door.
You ain't here for an old woman's talk. I got
a new helper inside. She can take care of you.
(09:35):
She sat heavily back, founding herself into the growing humidity
and heat at the bottom of her long, billowy blouse.
Well then Bobby took a step up, but misconnected on
the stairs edge and stumbled in, setting the old woman
to chuckling as his face flushed embarrassment. Beneath the damp,
musty pungency of age, Bobby detected the subtle aroma of
(09:57):
something comforting and eternal, perhaps the of wood instruments, the
smell of perfection. Mandolins, Banjos guitars lined the walls, interspersed
with more exotic instruments such as oods, chiny sends, a
saz and even a leer guitar. A couple of tailors, Martins, Gibsons,
and Gallaghers were there, but other instruments as impeccably crafted
(10:21):
or better than the best of the big names bore
no brand at all. Bobby started toward the back, circling
around the huge middle rack that crowded most of the
narrow room space. A young woman straightened behind a small
counter between him and the back wall that bore the
most immaculate string the instruments he'd ever seen. Their wood
looked almost alive. He knew no other way to describe it,
(10:46):
and Bobby sensed the wall resonating just beyond hearing range.
The young woman placed her hands on top of the case,
her left hand clutching a dust cloth. May I help you?
She was no beauty queen, but dimples punctuated a compassionate smile,
while downy chestnut hair framed dark, mysterious eyes that beckoned
(11:10):
Bobby into a place where he knew he could lose himself.
She stood about as tall as Bobby, a sturdy frame
that exuded a certain calm strength. He wanted strings, but
he muttered something about looking for a new mandolin in
a band. Pensacola, he said, and he noted the spark
(11:30):
of recognition in her eyes. Oh, I thought you looked familiar.
I saw you a few months back, she said. You
guys are good. We do okay. I guess you play
an instrument, he asked, but before she could answer other questions,
stumbled out, even to his surprise, do you sing? What's
your name? Perform? Wanna have dinner some time? He stopped,
(11:52):
suddenly his face warming as she grinned names. When a yes,
Bobby's brow narrowed.
Speaker 3 (12:00):
Yes to.
Speaker 1 (12:02):
The first, third, and last questions, she chuckled, I sing,
and I sort of played guitar, but mostly sing. I
haven't been in a band yet, and I'd love to
have dinner. Two weeks later, win Seaver assumed management of
Bobby's band and started singing back up The following week,
she worked her last day at Sharps and Flats and
(12:23):
moved in with Bobby. Bobby stopped in at Sharps and
Flats on Wind's final day, and the old woman waddled
back to the counter where he was looking over the
instruments on the wall. Beautifully ain't day. Bobby nodded what brand?
Pride softened the age lines that wrinkled the woman's face,
(12:44):
Brand don't matter. She selected the same tear drop mandolin
he'd played the day he met Win. The headstock had
a small blemish, perhaps a burn from some careless player's cigarette,
pinched between the wood and strings, but Bobby was struck
by the lightness and feel of the instrument. He strummed
a few times and then began to pick his own tune,
(13:06):
Mandestophile's notes, ringing with such sustain and clarity that he
held his breath Abruptly, he stopped and handed the instrument
back to the old woman, shaking his head. I can't
afford this, so I'd best stop. He glanced around, catching
a glimpse from Wind, who was helping another customer with
a guitar. The old lady placed the mandolin carefully back
(13:29):
on his hanger. Hain't it funny, she said, huffing slightly
from the effort. She turned back to him embraced herself
on the counter. Happy tunes like that one you just
played can lift people out of the deepest holes. Sad
ones can send them crashing to the bottom. She leaned
(13:50):
toward him, nodding slightly, like God told you music's got power.
The right words malady, sincerity. She nodded again and waddled
off to the other end of the counter. You let
me know if you want to try another one. Bobby
(14:12):
sensed Wynn's closeness before her hand touched his shoulder. Her eyes,
deep and resonant, flashed between Bobby and the old woman.
You're going to buy it. It's a fine mandolin, he admitted,
but cash is definitely a problem. He stepped away from
the counter, calling thanks to the old woman. He kissed
Win on the cheek. I'll pick you up later, he said,
(14:33):
and started out a vague uneasiness gnawing at him. Win
and Bobby endured good nature jibing from the other band
members as their dependence on an attraction to one another grew,
cultivating a deep, enduring understanding an ability to anticipate and
act without words. Under Wind's management, the band's reputation grew
(14:57):
as one of the hardest working groups on the circuit,
delivering a unique sound bound for national recognition. Even Bobby
began to believe the band would break out. By the
time Pensacola played Baton Rouge, a loyal fan base had
begun promoting them as much as they promoted themselves. Wynn
had invited a sugar Hill Records producer to attend, and
(15:18):
Bobby hoped the crowd's boisterous cheering would help secure a
record deal. Bobby lost himself in the music that night,
and he began to feel the power that sharps and
flats women had talked about. The final set ended after
the crowd called the band back for two encores. Nearly
two hundred of the band's self produced CDs sold that night,
(15:39):
not bad for a bar venue where music usually competed,
with patrons shouting their intentions to their dates. As applause
died and the crowd turned to canned music and negotiations
for evening company, the band's members gathered expectantly around wyn
She shrugged, he couldn't make it, so why are you
(15:59):
so smiling. Kyle, the guitarist, his voice thick with disappointment,
dug in his pocket for a cigarette lighter. He couldn't
make it, but he called we and said, tapping her
cell phone with her forefinger, He's flying in early tomorrow
to meet with us, which means we have to load
up and drive back tonight. Kyle groaned, Oh, that's a
(16:24):
long drive for a record contract. It's worth a little
lost sleep. Bobby and I can drive back tonight. We
should get home around two or three in the morning.
We can meet with him first thing tomorrow to go
over business aspects, and if you guys would rather drive
back in the morning, we can play for him tomorrow night.
Sounds good to me, Kyle said, I'll take a couple
(16:46):
of hours to pack up anyway. Frank and Richard agreed,
and they told wyn and Bobby to head out, that
they'd take care of the equipment. Shortly after ten, city
lights faded behind them as Bobby eased down on the gas.
Once on the interstate, Wynn placed for can of rupeer
and the cup holder next to the gearshift between the
seats and slipped off the seat belt. She drew her
(17:08):
feet into the seat, curled her legs under her and
nozzled close to Bobby. He put his arm around her
and didn't take it away until shortly after one a m.
When he directed the car down the exit toward town
and home. Still well north of the city, a mesmerizing
tangle of limbs and leaves flashed past in the edge
(17:30):
of the headlight's beam. His eyes began to close. He nodded,
startling himself, and jerked the wheel slightly. He drew a
deep breath and shook his head violently to fight the drowsiness.
Wynn sighed and cuddled against the door, head resting on
the glass. Bobby shifted in the seat and his knee
(17:51):
knocked the open drink. He grabbed for the can as
it fell, his foot going down hard on the pedal.
As a deer bounded into the road, Bobby yanked the
wheel hard to the right and hit the brakes. The
car careened and the tires hit the soft shoulder, fish
tailing into the woods and slamming sideways into a tree.
(18:18):
Don't die, Don't Die. Bobby checked Wind's neck for a
pulse and then rummaged frantically through the car, finally locating
his cell phone in the floorboard crushed. He struggled again
to get her out, but fell back As blackness rushed
in threatening unconsciousness. His throat swelled with emotion. He buried
(18:39):
his face in her hair. As the sharps and flats
woman began to murmur softly in memory. Voices argued in
his mind, one deriding the notion, the other insisting he
had nothing to lose. What did it matter. If it
didn't work, he'd lose nothing more. But if it did
work softly at first, words emerged in a shaky tenor.
Speaker 4 (19:06):
Raso, ras up, my lovely darling. The powers must hear
this cannot be. Raso RaSE up my lovely darling, restore
so give her back to me. This life is short,
(19:29):
even when it's long. I will not accept this wrong.
Deals I'll make and spells our chain to bring my
love back home. Love is the music, the music in
(19:50):
our hearts. Ras Up my darling song. Love is the key,
the key in a god hear me power, send her home.
Rasm ras up, my lovely darling. The powers must you
(20:13):
this cannot be. Rasm ras up my lovely darling, Restore
her soul. Giver back to me.
Speaker 1 (20:25):
Rasm, his voice faded in the snapping pop of metal
cooling and the chant of forest insects. He wept into
her hair, grasping at her, trying to draw her even closer,
only to stop in an abrupt gasp. Wind shivered and
moaned softly. She raised her head, eyes cloudy. It's okay,
(20:48):
Bobby's just bounded. We had an accident, the old woman.
He shook his head in denial at the thought I
missed these, that's all. His fingers traced Wind's cheek, bruised
and pallid in the dim light, and for the first
time he noticed blood on his hand, from a long,
(21:09):
shallow cut that ran from elbow to wrist. We need
to get to a hospital. No, she shook her head slowly.
Inside home Win Home, Bobby turned the ignition key and
the engine kicked over once twice and caught. He shifted
(21:30):
into reverse, and the metal on the passenger side protested
as it pulled away from the tree. The car made
at home, and he parked in the backyard where it
would be out of sight, and questioned for at least
for now. Bobby's head throbbed as he forced Wind's door
open and helped her out. He slammed the door shut
as Wind leaned against him for support that he could
(21:52):
barely give. They walked stiffly, as though each step had
to be planned. Inside the house, he helped Wind removed
her jeans and blood streaked blouse due to the cut
on her neck that had crusted over her skin shone
milky in the cold bathroom light, and faint bruises dotted
her arms and back. But what worried Bobby were her
(22:13):
lower legs and feet. They appeared pale, purple and swollen.
We need to see a doctor tomorrow, Wind said in
her raspy voice. She stepped into the shower and steam
boiled up around her As she clutched her arms tightly
across her breast shoulders rounded bloody water cascading off her
(22:35):
body and swirling down the drain. Her lips had turned
a deep shade of blue and a gray face. By
the time she stepped from the shower into the towel
that Bobby wrapped around her. He dried her carefully, worried
about the depth of the gash on her neck, although
stumped as to why it wasn't bleeding, He helped her
to bed. When he began, just let me rest. She
(23:01):
closed her eyes and rolled away, drawing the covers up.
Bobby returned to the bathroom and stripped, leaving his bloody
clothes in a pile. He braced himself against the sink
and stared into the mirror. His skin glowed like fresh
strawberries compared to Winds. He showered quickly and dried, feeling
somewhat revived by the steamy bath. The vertigo had lightened,
(23:23):
but he was convinced that they both should see a doctor.
He glanced at the clock near the medicine cabinet, already
three a m. He remembered the producer, but the record
company would simply have to wait. He and Wynn needed
medical attention resolved. Bobby pulled on clean briefs and came
out of the bathroom to find Wind sitting against the headboard,
(23:45):
covers clutched around her. Bobby settled on the bed and
Wind moved into his embrace. The covers cascaded to the mattress.
His hand appeared blazingly pink against the pale violet of
her skin. Wherever he touched he left marks, as though
he pressed the blood into other areas. My fingers are stiff.
(24:09):
Wind's words slurred slightly. The cuts don't bleed. There's no pain, Bobby,
she whispered, I'm scared. Bobby moved around for a better
look and found Wind's eyes half open, her face clenching.
(24:33):
When we went off the road, she said, things went
black and then I was floating. She closed her eyes
and her head tilted slightly back. Something's wrong, Bobby, something terrible.
(24:58):
Bobby held her for several long moments and then ease
her down in bed. He drew the blanket up around
her and rose to dress, but Wynn caught his hand
and he grimaced as pain shot through the cut on
his arm. Look at me, Bobby met her pleading eyes,
and he saw the milky fog of death seeping in.
(25:19):
I'll catch you to a hospital. It's too late, Winn murmured.
She looked up, her face drawn, and wan, look at
my body cuts, my skin. I am She struggled for
the specific word, but what she tried to say would
(25:42):
not come. What happened? What have you done, Bobby?
Speaker 2 (25:50):
What?
Speaker 1 (25:52):
He settled back on the bedside, his head hanging, His
voice quavered. You weren't breathing. I couldn't find a pulse.
I couldn't get you out. He avoided her eyes, but
that didn't allow him to avoid the truth. What could
What should he tell her that the sharps and flats
(26:14):
Woman's mountain magic had pulled Wind's soul back into a
dead body. I shouldn't be here. Why did you? The
words slurred unintelligibly, and her arms drew awkwardly inward. Bobby,
Bobby rose and dressed quickly. Wind stretched her neck back
(26:37):
and struggled to extend her arms. She gazed up through
fogged eyes, dead and alive. Bobby detected sad amusement in
her voice. She rolled her head around, stretching the neck muscles,
then lay still to stare at the ceiling. Deep sorrow
(27:00):
and Guild threatened to suffocate Bobby for what he'd done
to Win. I'm going to go to the old woman.
Winn reached toward him, the effort showing in her face.
Take me with you, Bobby trembled with possibility. How could
the witch refuse him? With Win at his side, with
his strength returning by degree, he lifted Win into his
(27:23):
aching arms with a grunt and carried her to the
car to lay her in the back. Seat, her body
gradually contracting in on itself. Winded. Bobby slid in behind
the wheel and started the engine, his mind centered on
the sharps and flats woman. With a final shake, the
(27:44):
engine went silent. Music wafted through the streets from the
upscale bottle clubs. These places afforded the band occasional work,
but the jukes they had replaced had provided steady gigs
without the want to be pretenders to whom the new
clubs catered Bobby most were the ones who believed that
mere conversation about music with a musician qualified them as artists.
(28:07):
Wind moaned and Bobby twisted around in the seat. Her
eyes had become increasingly glazed, the pupils milky and cold,
where she managed lie still, I'll be right back. Bobby
opened the door and crossed the sidewalk, raising a fist
to bang on the sharps and flat stoor, But the
knob turned before the first knock, and the ancient door
(28:29):
opened on rusty hinges. The squat old woman stepped into
the dark doorway, a soft whisper of music emanating from
within the store. I need help, Bobby said. The old
woman's mouth puckered in consideration, and she nodded toward the car. Ah,
you believe what I told you. Now make her right,
(28:51):
Bobby pleaded. The old woman's eyes narrowed. I can't undo
what I didn't do. Bobby's shoulders sank on the weight
of desperation. Then tell me, tell me how I can.
The old woman stepped down from the doorway and with
a gentle hand turned him back toward his car. He
felt a vague tingle where her fingers touched a cold fire,
(29:15):
igniting the molecules you called only her soul back. Bobby's
thoughts reeled, and he realized the song never mentioned the
restoration of life to Win's body. I'll do it now,
I'll sing for what's done is done, the old woman said.
(29:35):
Her body's dead. Bobby trembled before the woman, his head
shaking in denial of the obvious. I didn't know, ignorance.
Don't make it right, son, the old woman said, give
it thought this time, and the words will come. Do
(29:56):
what you have to do for her. The old woman
turned and with a soft grunt, stepped back into the store.
She closed the door, giving it a good shove to
lock it in place. The light inside winked out, leaving
Bobby drenched in the amber glow of street lamps. A
(30:17):
car lurched out of its parking space down the street
and reved past a few seconds later, the driver leering
out the window at him, all eyes and teeth gleaming
in a wretched grin. As the car accelerated away, Bobby
glanced skyward, wishing for an alternative he knew did not exist.
The paleness of the eastern sky hinted the coming noon day.
(30:40):
Bobby opened the back door and lay down in the seat,
with wind molding himself to her. Where are we? Her
words were barely audible, strained and raspy. Bobby's caress tightened,
his eyes, clouding. He held her for several long moments,
(31:04):
delaying what he knew he had to do, the coldness
of her skin emphasizing the inevitable. Finally, he drew a
breath against the tightening in his throat and began to sing,
his voice fractured and trembling, the tune mournful and filled
(31:25):
with regret.
Speaker 4 (31:28):
I could not take the sudden lost that send my
love beyond the guiding power sin becker soul, but failed
to make her whole some day my time will come
(31:52):
to and in and then our storyto perhaps with hello understand,
and then join our souls. When the body's only a
hollow shell. Our time should be done. We can't cast
(32:19):
streams intuitioning wells our loves musco on, go on, lie down,
lie down, and rest your so.
Speaker 2 (32:40):
Lie down, lie down, love, behold.
Speaker 5 (32:50):
Be hole.
Speaker 1 (32:53):
As he sang. When's milky eyes closed as he whispered
something but he could not make out. He tried to
convince himself that she whispered her love for him, but
she could have been damning him for all he knew.
As the words passed her lips, the sharps and flat's
interior ignited in a single brilliant pulse of light and
(33:16):
then went dark once again. Bobby's voice fell to silence
as Wind lay dead in his arms for the second
time that night. As he held her with his face
buried in her hair, several cars passed, their drivers, leaving
the bottle clubs that were closing. Despite the night's hopeless
struggle to survive the coming dawn, Bobby drew a deep,
(33:39):
steadying breath and slipped his arm out from under Wind's body.
He got out of the car and straightened slowly, his
eyes still on Wind, now a bizarre illusion of calm,
even as her muscles continued to tighten and contract abruptly.
He circled around the car and pried open the passenger door.
(34:00):
He came back around, lifted Wind's body out, and returned
to the passenger side to place her in the seat.
He slammed the battered door closed twice before it locked.
He got in behind the wheel, started the engine, and
drove slowly away. City lights vanished in the rear view mirror.
Bobby settled back, arms aching hands, clutching the wheel as
(34:24):
his foot pressed the accelerator down until it rested against
the floor. Sign markers and trees flickered past in the
headlight's margin. A sign warned of a sharp curve ahead,
and Bobby's mind A drink spilled, and the terrified eyes
of a deer appeared in the road. He yanked the
wheel and woods rushed in. What a sad story. What
(34:55):
I'd loved about this story was how it explores our
refusal to accept loss, our desperation to have someone we
love come back. It's the Monkeys Paul all over, but
with music and mystery. And it still resonates. But what
made this story special to me was Wind's experience. She
(35:17):
returns from the other side, not with clarity or comfort
or eagerness, but with confusion and fear and pain, and
that feels honest. She didn't ask to come back, and
she knows that something is wrong, that she doesn't belong
and yet again, love shows the way because she trusts
(35:41):
Bobby and their love enough that he'll make the right decision.
She got her wish and I guess in the end
he got his too, And that's part of grief too,
when we think that we can't go on without the
person we lost. Cis Fuqua recently released an album called
Past the Biscuits that's definitely worth your time. Under the
(36:04):
risk of sounding haughty, like the reviewer and the story,
it's thoughtful and soulful and definitely worth listening to. It's
available on bandcamp and I'll put a link to that
in the episode description too. The Kaiiton Kai has so
many interesting stories, some like this, some that are funny,
some that are romances, vampires, monsters, you name it. It's
(36:28):
every genre. So please subscribe to the podcast and check
out the substack to see comments. By authors about their inspiration.
I also occasionally post art that I like any kind
of art, music, paintings, poetry. I post those on various
social media so you can follow me on Instagram, Facebook,
(36:52):
Blue Sky, or substack. That's all in the episode description.
So thank you for listening today. And now here is
the music version of Rise Up by C. S Fuqua.
Speaker 5 (37:10):
Ras Rass Students Stuffy, raz rass don storm song, raza
(37:35):
shorty win.
Speaker 3 (37:37):
Swap will love strove so spells a ch.
Speaker 5 (37:54):
Razer ras as.
Speaker 6 (38:02):
Rass some mother doll I just student scannoffee raza press
a Moho doll store.
Speaker 2 (38:16):
So give the fact to me.
Speaker 5 (38:20):
Rass A fairs true.
Speaker 2 (38:28):
And this is why.
Speaker 3 (38:29):
The something it spells a change to break my.
Speaker 5 (38:43):
Ras raspress a moddlling the powers a student skenofy rasa
ras anally dog storm, So.
Speaker 2 (39:06):
Give a fact.
Speaker 5 (39:09):
Razo listen music you sing in our hearts.
Speaker 2 (39:17):
Or listen my dog so.
Speaker 4 (39:26):
The heart give me out s.
Speaker 2 (39:32):
Razo raz as a.
Speaker 3 (40:04):
Side short It's weird song happen said this strong dis
a may give spells change call.
Speaker 7 (40:24):
Brazo, ras as rassom dog bus studskinnot be here.
Speaker 2 (40:40):
Ras Russ darling stom So. Give U back to Razo.
Listen music you sing in our hearts Bruss my Doll,
(41:01):
Sol Game Game, Give me a listener. Razafer Raza ras
(41:22):
plado Dollar Friends, mischievous cannot be Raza ras a plan
of fifth dollar.
Speaker 4 (41:35):
Restore your so give a fact to me
Speaker 2 (41:40):
Ras raz
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