Witch Pegs

"It's my birthday Mama, can't Pappy do it?"
"No Emmeline, Pappy is busy in the shed. Besides, we need to talk."
Emmeline couldn't see the expression on her mother's face, but her tone was enough to convince her not to pursue it any further.
Tendrils of steam rose from the pot that boiled above the open fire. Shadows danced against the uneven walls of their shack.
Emmeline scooped hot water from the pot and splashed it into a chipped enamel bowl. Clean scraps of linen floated on the surface.
"I'm ready Mama."
"Thank you darlin'."
Emmeline didn't feel right. Today was her thirteenth birthday but the day had been flat despite the celebrations. She'd had presents - an intricately carved owl from Pappy her favourite. They'd eaten well, including a whole roast chicken. The carcass had been picked clean, the bones now drying above the fire.
Now, the younger children were sleeping in the other room. Pappy was in the shed working, and she had to see to Mama like she always did.
Whilst Emmeline prepared the bowl, Mama had removed her leather eye-patch and the damp padding from beneath. She tossed the stained padding on the fire. It burnt with a vivid blue flame.
Emmeline knelt at her mother's feet and squeezed the excess water from the warm cloths in the bowl. She raised them to her mother's face.
Mama's right eye studied her eldest daughter's features in the firelight. She had no left eye.
Emmeline was used to her mother's ruined face. Where the left eye should have been was an open wound that refused to heal. Her eyelids had sunk into the ocular cavity but never quite sealed. A white, jelly like substance flowed from it and needed to be cleaned regularly.
As Emmeline applied the rags she saw her mother's fingers grip the chair more tightly. She knew her mother was in constant pain and felt guilt for her earlier reluctance to help.
"I had a lovely birthday Mama."
"That's good darlin'," replied her mother, in a way that made it sound anything but. "You hold on to those memories."
Emmeline was desperate to dispel the sadness that had descended over her mother.
"The chicken was so tasty, wasn't it Mama?" she asked hopefully.
Again, her mother's reply was not the one she hoped for:
"Not everyone on this Godforsaken hill eats so well."
"I know that Mama, and I really am grateful."
"Child, do you know why Jones the farmer gifted us that bird?" Her mother asked.
"Because you used your gift to help him last spring," Emmeline replied.
"That's right Emmeline. I wiggled for water and Jones got a new well."
"You help lots of people on the hill Mama." said Emmeline, her voice tinged with pride.
"Aye, that much is true, but you'd no playmates over for your birthday." her mother said sadly.
"I had the young-uns."
"Aye, we have family. We need family, because the others will never really want us." Her mother's sadness was giving way to anger now. "They bring us gifts but it's fear, not gratitude that drives them."
"But Mama, all you do is help folk?"
Emmeline had never understood why her family were so isolated within the community. Her mother's gifts had helped them all at some point. She could find water deep below the ground; tell early if animals or women were with child.
Last summer, without ever leaving their dusty shack, she'd known where the Johnson twins had been hiding.
"But you found them naughty twins when all were afraid they'd drowned in the creek!" protested Emmeline.
"That I did child. Lucky for us the sight doesn't really rest in the eyes."
"Lucky for us?" Emmeline tried to ask but her mother cut her off.
"These people need conjuring folk like us child, but they'll never accept us. They fear what they don't understand. They're scared. They still carry the superstitions of the old world. Our grandparents brought more than mere possessions over from Europe. The world's moved on but not in these woods."
"Mama, your wound!"cried Emmeline.
Her mother was rarely so animated. Her anger had flushed her cheeks and caused a treacle like substance to ooze from the corners of her sunken eyelids.
As Emmeline dabbed at the wound she felt something hard just behind the skin. She hadn't felt it before.
"Hold still Mama."
She gently opened the eyelids. The cavity behind wasn't empty. An object, about an inch long was jammed deep into the soft tissues. It was wooden and conical - with what might have been a rounded tip.
Her mother batted her hand away.
"You must leave it be!" She warned.
"But how..."
"It's always been there. The price for living on this hill, for living with these people." her mother said venomously.
"You mean they did this? The others?"
"They wanted it done child, though there's none amongst then brave enough to so it. They think it'll ward off the evil eye. Who knows, perhaps they're right. For haven't I wished evil upon them and naught come of it? Especially on this day."
Emmeline was going to ask what she meant but she sensed her father's approach.
Her own 'sight' was still growing but her intuition told her that Pappy had been in the shed all this time making something for her.
The carved owl was gift enough, but she felt a pang of excitement as the realisation came upon her.
It didn't last long.
Her mother's sadness, the terrible injury...
She sensed her father was not alone.
It all came together. She felt faint. Sick.
The shack door opened. Pappy's shadow loomed large.
Behind him she saw others and recognised Jones the farmer amongst them.
They were silent.
"Be swift," her mother pleaded, but Pappy ignored her. Walking in,he threw two small objects on the rough table, strode over and wrapped his huge arms around Emmeline.
He scooped her up against his heaving chest. Big, salty tears fell against her cheek.
Over his shoulder she could just make out the two objects thrown on the table.
One was a small leather patch -similar to her mother's, but with an owl carefully etched into the rough hide.
The other, a small wooden peg.
She gripped her father in both love and fear. She knew this would break him. She whispered it was okay.
He set her down and took the hammer from his pocket.