Chapter 4: The Ghost in the Mist

Once her body was scattered, the men’s hair fell out in clumps. They swept it up and figured it was over.

But the minute my father hung a new sign—"Fresh Meat, $10"—for me on the dock, the white hair came back, thicker than ever.

Worse, now they saw her standing whole in the lake, head stitched back on, grinning through the morning mist.

Panic spread. Folks ran crying to Old Man Murphy:

"We did what you said—why won’t she leave us be?"

Murphy muttered, counting on his crooked fingers:

"Not good. She’s a vengeful ghost now. Hang hot peppers on yourselves. I’ll get my brother from upstate—he knows this stuff."

Everyone was terrified. They packed trucks and followed Murphy out of town, leaving my father to sob on the dock:

"I’m still her man! Her husband! And she does this to me? I’ll find a priest and send her to hell!"

No one listened. Murphy took my sisters and sped away in his Buick.