Sandra Hill - [Jinx] by Pearl Jinx

through the generations. What most amazed him—Claire, too—were the speleothems, those stalactite, stalagmite, and helictite formations that looked like crystal shapes hanging from the hundred-foot ceiling, or rising from the floor, or growing every which way in twists and spirals. In some cases the stalactites and stalagmites had grown together, forming columns. Steady drips had formed a flowstone drapery on one wall, resembling a waterfall. In other places, there were those amazing gypsum flowers with feathery “petals,” and other formations known as dogtooth, boxwork, selenite needles, popcorn, and moon milk. Some of the ceiling limestone pieces resembled chandeliers. An amazing collection of nature’s own sculpted art.
    Into the almost churchlike silence, Claire whispered, “It makes you realize how insignificant each human being is in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t it? It took thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of years, to create these marvels of nature.”
    “Yep, fly specks on the windshield of life, that’s us,” Caleb commented.
    Claire gave him a dirty look for not taking her words seriously, although he did. Sometimes a human just had to be awed by the incredible things God created. Besides, his own research had revealed that it took about a hundred years just to form one inch of some of these massive formations.
    “Seeing and exploring this cavern is a life-changing experience,” Claire continued, “or it should be.” She glanced at him, no doubt expecting him to make fun of her observation.
    He surprised her by saying, “I agree.”
    He and Claire both turned to Mark.
    “Okay, okay, I get the message. Life-changing. Change my life. I’m not totally brain-dead. We call this the Room of Sorrow,” Mark announced. Pointing down at the dirt floor, away from their path, toward the base of some of the stalagmites, he said, “See that darkish rust coloring?”
    He and Claire nodded.
    “Blood.”
    “What?” he and Claire exclaimed together.
    “There were skeletons here at one time, dozens of them. Most of them minus hair, which would indicate scalping,” Mark continued. “We believe they were Lenapes from about two hundred and fifty years ago.”
    “What makes you think so?” Caleb asked.
    Claire answered for Mark. “Most Lenape fell into one of three tribes: the Unami or ‘turtle tribe’; the Minsi, whose totem was the wolf; and the Unalachtigo, or ‘turkey tribe.’ The Minsi were the most warlike and the first to migrate westward from the Delaware River Valley when us white folks moved into this country. The Minsi were known to be responsible for lots of kidnapping and torture and murder of white settlers in the Juniata Valley, but the Iroquois were on the rampage then, too, massacring not just white homesteaders, but Indians, as well. So Minsi or Iroquois would be my guess.”
    “I gotta give you credit, lady. You do know your Indians.” Caleb patted Claire on the shoulder.
    She made a tsking noise, thinking he was mocking her, which he wasn’t. It was just that she went on and on and on.
    “As for skeletons, see,” Claire pointed to Caleb, “this is why Park Service oversight is necessary.” Then she narrowed her green eyes at Mark. “Where are the skeletons? It’s against the law to disturb a historical site or to remove any human remains. Like grave robbing, but worse.”
    Mark waved his hand dismissively. “They’d have a helluva time prosecuting. The culprits who removed the bones have been dead for more than two hundred years.”
    “Oh.”
    Caleb had to admire Claire’s succinctness—for once, she didn’t blather on endlessly—and the heightened color on her face indicated she knew she had spoken too quickly.
    He smirked at her, just to show he had noticed.
    She elbowed him.
    “What’s up with you two?” Mark studied them both. “You already got a love connection or something goin’ on?”
    “No!” he practically shouted.
    “Maybe,” she said at