31 Days of Halloween Tales - The Sisters Van Helsing - Part 4

The final chapter in the tale of two sisters:

The Sisters Van Helsing

Part 4

This was not my first rodeo with the spirit world and it would most certainly not be my last but I have to admit there was a moment of doubt when I saw Richie heading towards me, jaw set, eyes clear, machete raised, but like the Victrola, the steel blade lacked substance in a metaphysical way.

Which honestly, did not make me any less afraid, I had already seen what non-physical beings had done to Mitch and if I didn't want to be jumping right behind him, I figured I had best not let my guard down for a second.

The white cloud from my breath was practically blocking my view as I strode carefully down the hall. My brain was telling me to run but I thought avoiding both Richie and the woman would be the best plan of action for me to retain my sanity. Or what was left of it anyway.

Richard was running but it was more like a slow motion movie sequence to me. He brought down the machete as I easily slipped by him and although that machete wasn't real exactly, I could have sworn I heard the swoosh of the metal as it passed by my ear.

Luckily I was slightly faster than he was. The Van Gogh look was not something I was going for.

In three long strides I reached the door to my room and grabbed the knob to go in.

Unfortunately, the door I had left slightly ajar was now shut and locked. And the key was on the other side.

"Damn it!"

Yes, I cursed again.

Ramirez and the woman laughed behind me.


While I was pretty sure the Very Odd Couple couldn't hurt me physically, 'pretty sure' wasn't something I was willing to bet on at the moment. Forgetting all hotel manners and propriety, I began to scream and bang on the  door to our room praying that my sister hadn't stuck in a pair of earplugs while I was gone on my quest to silence the music.

She hadn't.

"What the hell, Dee?"

"I forgot the key."

"Why would you leave the room without the key? It's a hotel for heaven's sake."

I thought perhaps the hallway with a deranged satan worshiping serial killer ghost coming after me wasn't the best place for this conversation so I pushed her back into the room, slammed the door, and locked all four locks.

I don't know what I thought that was going to do against someone that could clearly walk through the door, locked or not, but I wasn't thinking clearly.

"Put some clothes on. I need your help."

Lori took one look at my face and didn't argue for a change.

She pulled her jeans and shoes on and asked me what was going on. I gave her the Reader's Digest version.

"Okay. I am not too worried about the couple in the hallway. They sound resourceful but they would have hurt me when they locked the door if they could have. "

"And the Black Dahlia?"

"Her, I am a little more worried about. She has gotten inside his head and Lord knows if I can turn that around in time."

She grabbed her purse and the velvet pouch that she was never without, tucked the room key into her pocket and took my hand as we stepped back out into the hallway.

Richard Ramirez and company were gone for the moment and we hurried down the frigid hall.

The door to Mitch's room was now completely frosted over as if a winter storm had just dropped by for a visit and when I knocked, it burned my hand.

No answer.

"Do you think he already jumped?"

"No, I think we would have heard sirens if he had. Step back."

Lori and our brother Abe both have a multitude of natural abilities that for some reason I do not. They were born with them, I was born with a love for reading and black and white horror movies, along a tendency to get myself into trouble.

Lori pulled a tiny vial from the pouch, whispered what I guessed was a prayer of some sort, then sprinkled the door with the contents of the vial.

The frost immediately disappeared and when I knocked again, Mitch opened the door.

He looked worse than before, pale had faded to nearly transparent and haunted had become gaunt and dead like,  however he was still standing and was still in this physical realm which was preferable to the alternative.

Lori didn't even flinch when she saw the figure on the bed. "Your music is too loud," was all she said to her.

I bolted past all of them, keeping one eye on the ghost and the other on the guy I was currently attracted to and slammed the window shut. I figured that would give us all a couple of minutes anyway to sort this all out.

Now, I would have gone for the nasty ghoul on the bed first but apparently Lori had had enough of Nat King Cole for one evening. She walked over to the still playing Victrola ghost, spritz some holy water on the thing and it disappeared mid-chorus.

Like I said before, Lori knew her stuff.

The moment the music shut off, Mitch collapsed onto the floor and the room began to warm.

I might have expected some screaming or tantrum throwing from the spirit but there was nothing. I watched her face as I brought Mitch around and noticed she took on the pallor of melancholy where I had seen only anger and hostility before. Lori walked over to her and whispered something I couldn't hear. The girl smiled a bit, shook her head and faded into the bedspread she was lying on as if she had never been there at all.

"Remind me never to lie on the bedspread here again."

"Remind me never to let you make the reservations again."

I laughed at that. As always, my sister was right.

It took Mitch several minutes to warm up completely and come around to what I suspected was his normal self. I told the small fib that we were with the hotel and someone passing by had heard him pass out and fall inside his room. He didn't remember any of it and it was just as well.

I'll tell him the truth later. Much, much later.

He introduced himself to me as Mitch Ryder, but not that Mitch Ryder, and we both laughed at his comic genius.

I think he will fit in just fine with this family.

31 Days of Halloween Tales - The Sisters Van Helsing - Part 3

The third part in the tale of two sisters:

The Sisters Van Helsing

Part 3

You would think that the source of blaring music at midnight in a hotel would be an easy thing to find but you would be wrong about that.

The entire hall was filled with music as if it were coming from the hotel walls themselves. It could easily have been coming from any one of the rooms on the fourteenth floor. Or even another floor. I couldn't be sure.

I may have been affected by the cold or by the fact that I was  in serious need of sleep but I inadvertently blurted, "Jiminy Christmas its friggin cold in here," and immediately wished I hadn't said that aloud.

Whatever was residing in these rooms, I knew I would be better off if it wasn't aware of my presence just yet.

I took a few tentative steps across the hall and carefully pressed my hand on the door. I wasn't exactly positive of what I was expecting but the door felt, well, like a door. Nothing special, it wasn't even particularly chilly which was odd seeing how cold it was in the hallway.

When you are exhausted things seem funny that really shouldn't and, "This isn't the door you are looking for," flashed through my mind nearly setting off a fit of  giggles in spite of it all.

"May the force be with me," came next and I continued  my search down the hall.

I tried the next three doors and found them all to be relatively normal save one that looked newer than all the other doors in the hotel. I pondered for just a second what might have transpired in that room as to cause such a remodeling.

Then I decided maybe it was best not to know.

The next to the last door on the right held some promise I thought. I knew there was serious cold emanating from the inside as the metal door knob was completely frosted over.

"It looks like we have a winner," I whispered softly and knocked.

I am not sure what I expected to open the door, a ghastly spirit or a nasty demon but I am quite sure I wasn't expecting Mitch Ryder.

Oh, just for clarity, not that Mitch Ryder.

He was a tall drink of water as my mother would say, at least six foot four to my estimate as I stood there in  the doorway.  Due to the fact that I am vertically challenged, I had to strain my neck up to see his face properly. He stood there looking at me, expecting me to say something as I was the one who knocked, but I was so captivated by his looks that for once, I was at a loss for words.

Thankfully he wasn't.

"Can I help you?"

This was a good looking guy. Well sort of, except for that whole pale, terrified, haunted thing he had going on. His pale blue eyes were  slightly glossed over, his black hair was somewhat disheveled, and he appeared to not have showered in a while, but other than that, he was gorgeous.

It was possible that he was a drunk or even an addict considering where he was staying but since I had the distinct impression that the music was coming from his room, I guessed it was something else.

"Ummm..."

Okay, so I couldn't think while I was staring into those satiny eyes and was suddenly more concerned about whether or not  my makeup had failed me hours ago.

He looked at me expectantly so I thought I had best say something.

"The music... it's just a little loud. That's all."

His eyes suddenly grew and he practically dragged me into his room.

"You can hear it?"

"Of course I can hear it. I just said it was  a little loud."

"Can you see her?"

He pointed into the room behind him and lying on the bed was a woman.

I use that term loosely however.

It was a woman. Or had been. At one time.

Now it was more like a ghastly reflection of one. Even so, I was jealous.

"You have company. Sorry."

His eyes cleared up suddenly and instead of a dazed look now they had more of a glare of annoyance. They were still stunning.

"What??? No! I do not have company! She doesn't belong here!"

Okay, so I needed to do something. The music was still blaring.

I found the source of the blasting music inside his room as I had suspected. Lori was right, it was an old Victrola playing. Except it didn't appear to be quite as solid as one might imagine it should.

"Is that your record player?" I wasn't sure what else to say, I was pretty sure it wasn't his.

"No, it just showed up when she did."

Sentimental Reasons started over again, all on its own I might add.

Terrific, a ghostly Victrola on top of everything else. How the hell do you shut it off?

I walked towards the figure on the bed. She should have been able to see me but she was too wrapped up in smoking her cigarette which was no more corporeal than she was. Did they bring everything from the other side with them?

I attempted to get her attention. "Miss? Can you turn the music down?"

Now the guy was looking at me as if I had lost my mind. To be fair, he really didn't know who I was at the time, so I forgave him. I can forgive just about any man that looks like that.

Regardless, the woman ignored me and went on smoking what appeared to be a Pall Mall.

I took a better look at her and from what I could ascertain from the remains of what appeared to be a lateral dissection, it was Elizabeth Short. Or a kind of "repaired" version of her.

I had seen photos of the Black Dahlia of course, but truth be known, I wouldn't know her from the Blue Dahlia. The injuries are what clued me in to who she was and that 1940's hairdo which I have to admit, she carried off pretty well.

Elizabeth Short had been cut in half at the midsection and while I could plainly see that she was pretty much still in two separate pieces, the edges of the wounds had been softened and blended to the point  you almost couldn't tell what happened at all.

Apparently they can Photoshop you once you are dead. I must admit, that bit of information gave me no small amount of comfort. I could now look forward to an afterlife sans cellulite.

Then she spoke.

"Mitch, honey. Get rid of this broad. We have things to do."

I didn't really want to think about what they had to do, even for me that sounded pretty obscene and I accept an awful lot on faith. But what concerned me more was that the glazed and dazed look had returned to Mitch's eyes.

"Sure babe. I'll get rid of her." His voice had a tone of resolution and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"You need to go."

It was just about then that I noticed the window in the room was wide open and I had a sinking feeling of what good old Liz had planned for Mitch.

"Yeah, okay. Well, just keep the music down and have a nice night."

Mitch didn't hear me or if he did he didn't answer. He was back under the spell of the Black Dahlia.

And I needed help if I was going to save him.

He shut the door in my face and I decided that it was time for Lori to get up. She wouldn't be happy about it but I wasn't happy thinking about tall, dark, and handsome being splattered all over Main Street either.

I reluctantly gave Mitch and Liz some privacy and turned around to return to my room.

The hallway was still freezing as when I first entered it but I wasn't alone in it  any longer.

About half way down the narrow hallway and between me and my hotel room door, stood Richard Ramirez.

He was slashing at a woman with what appeared to be a machete although I had never actually seen a machete before and I was just guessing that was what it was.

Thankfully, for me at least, the woman was already dead and had been for the last thirty years or so.

I couldn't hear them for some reason and I might have even had time to consider why that was so, if it wasn't for the fact that Richie had stopped his attack on the woman and had turned his attention towards me.

"Shit"

Like my sister, I can swear on occasion.

31 Days of Halloween Tales ~ The Sisters Van Helsing - Part 1

I got a little hung up on the characters so another tale of two sisters entitled:

The Sisters Van Helsing

Part 1

"Are you sure this is the right place, Dee?

Lori's distrusting tone set me on edge and we had only just arrived.

"Okay, so it's not the Ritz Carlton but it's cheap and it had some decent reviews on Yelp."

Alright, I might have been fibbing about that part a bit. There were a couple of not bad reviews but a whole lot more of DON'T STAY HERE reviews. Fortunately for me Lori isn't that keen on the internet and with four kids she hardly has the time to browse.

The fact was, I wanted to stay here because of the hotel's history. I mean, serial killers, suicides, and strange murders?? Who wouldn't jump at the chance?

"Someone just asked me if I was 'holding'.  Holding.  What do you think he meant?"

Yes, so it's a place frequented by junkies and drug dealers as well. I didn't think we looked like either one so I thought we would be okay. Yeah, I guess Iwas wrong about that.

"Who knows? Let's go get checked in. I can't wait to see the inside!"

Lori was still scrutinzing the addict sitting outside when I opened the door and we stepped inside the lobby.

"God Dee! This place is gorgeous!Are you sure this is the right place? Are you sure you got the price right?"

Even I had to admit that the lobby was stunning, a beautiful throwback to the elegance of the early 1900's when it was built. You could imagine Carol Lombard and Clark Gable strolling across the gleaming tiled floor on their way to check in after attending some Hollywood bash in the ballroom downstairs.

I was more than a little disappointed.

"Yep, this is it. The Cecil Hotel."

I heard Lori giggle slightly, irritating me even more and I snapped. "Let's just go get checked in, okay?"

My sister's tone  changed immediately. I should know better than to show my hand too early with her.

"Dee, What's going on? You selected this place and now you don't want to stay here?"

"No, of course I want to stay. It's beautiful isn't it?"

"But that isn't what you expected was it? What exactly were you expecting, Dee? Tell me why you picked this place right now."

I walked away without answering, leaving her behind as I went up to the front desk and checked us in before she could change her mind.

*****

"This place is pretty awful, Dee."

Lori was right. While it was pretty much as clean as any other hotel I have ever been in, it was absolutely prehistoric. When was the last time I saw a television with a tube in it? Fifteen, twenty years before? I couldn't remember but it had been a long time before today. It was shocking but not nearly  as shocking as the fact that it still worked.

The ancient television was mildly interesting but it was the cold that got my attention.  Lori called down to the lobby about the coldness of the room only to discover our phone didn't work either. She declined to return down in the elevator by herself and we suffered until we figured the thermostat out by ourselves.

All in all, it was a old room but I knew that wasn't what Dee was referring to when she commented about it being awful.

I noticed it first in the elevator, the bone chilling dampness of the place. I know Dee noticed it too, her teeth were chatteirng loud enough to wake the dead but since we weren't alone as we rode up to the fourteenth floor (actually the thirteenth but who is counting?) she had the common courtesy not to mention it in front of the other hotel guests.

As we stepped out onto our floor the doors closing silently behind us, my sister whispered,"Dee, who was that in the elevator?"

"How would I know? I don't know anyone else who is staying here."

"They looked familiar to me. I don't know why."

I knew why. Anyone who watched the news in the last fifty years knew why but I didn't want to say just yet. However, as usual, my silence was like an alarm going off in Lori's head and she wasn't letting it go.

"Dee? Who were they? Why are we here at this hotel?"

Damn it. I could have tried to lie a little bit longer but it seemed less than worth the effort..

"It's supposed to be haunted. Remember the Elisa Lam disappearance and the weird video?"

"Christ, Dee. This isn't that hotel, is it? Tell me it isn't. Tell me that wasn't her in that elevator!! Tell me!!"

"Okay, well, I can't tell you that. But we did already pay for two nights so we are staying."

Lori stopped walking and was silent for a moment.  Then she asked me what I hoped she wouldn't.

"Deidre,who was the guy with her? I recognize him too. I have a feeling I should know who he is."

Like I said, I knew the history of the hotel.

"I think it was Richard Rameriz."

"The Night Stalker?"

Well, I was hoping she wasn't aware of who he was but I probably should have known better.

We are Van Helsings after all.

To be Continued...

31 Days of Halloween Tales - The Secret

A clever tale entitled:

The Secret

Sarah hid in the small cupboard beneath the stairs, her ears and eyes strained on the visitor that had come to speak to her Mamm. 

"Mrs. Beiler, I don’t mean to offend but perhaps Sarah's sister would be more suitable to raise the child." 

 Hannah Beiler shook her head solemnly and looked out of the kitchen window.

"No Bishop, that simply would not do, Mary is already overburdened.  I cannot ask that of Mary and I certainly would not ask that of Sarah.  No matter what, the child is a child of God and shall be cared for."  She turned and looked directly at the Bishop. He looked tired and the birthmark beneath his ear became more prominent the more irritated he became.

"Well, perhaps someone in another town then." His words were caring but his eyes were cold.  Bishop Miller looked at Hannah and realized he was fighting a losing battle at the moment.  He rose from his chair and touched Hannah’s hand. "Of course we will do as you wish but please give this some more thought before you make a final decision.  I will help in anyway that I can but a fatherless child, well Hannah, you know the church's opinion on that matter." 

Bishop Miller gently patted her hand and turned towards the door.  He leaned over and spoke to Hannah gently.  " I will speak to you at the Church service tomorrow and you can let me know what will be done." 

Hannah looked at his face and smiled sadly.  "Thank you Bishop, we will speak to you then," and she closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the afternoon sun. 

Hannah turned and walked slowly into the family room.  She sat down in her rocking chair, pulled the worn quilt around her and wept quietly as the afternoon sun warmed her.

 Sarah slowly opened the closet door.  She tiptoed down the hall and peeked in at her mother sitting in the oversized chair.  For as long as Sarah could remember that chair had been a place of solace and comfort for all the women of the Beiler family.  Her mother had rocked Sarah and her sister Mary until they were too big to fit on her lap and now all three enjoyed taking turns in the chair in the afternoon when the sun shown most brightly through the large picture window, warming whomever was seated there.  It surprised Sarah to see her Mamm crying and she didn't know what to do.  She wanted to go and comfort her but she did not want her Mamm to know she had been eavesdropping in on her private conversation, especially when Sarah was the topic.

She turned around and slipped quietly outside.

The short walk to the barn seemed eternal that afternoon and the large doors seemed extra heavy.  Once Sarah was sheltered in the cool darkness she sat down to think.  The same two questions kept going around and around inside of her young mind.  What is so terrible?  What could be done about it?   Sarah contemplated for hours until her head hurt.  Then she contemplated some more.

  The next day was Sunday and the weekly church service was to be held at the home of the Gustafson's.  Sarah awoke very early and dressed carefully in her best Sunday dress.  She pulled her new prayer kapp from her closet and placed it gently on her head.  She quietly opened her bedroom door, tiptoed past her parent's bedroom and with a prayer under her breath that they were still asleep, she slipped out the door.  The sun rose quickly and Sarah knew she had to hurry, so much needed to be done.

Hannah and Jacob arrived home that afternoon, slightly disturbed but somewhat relieved.  They had been spared another conversation with Bishop Miller for now but they both knew it would be just a matter of time before they would have to speak with him again.  The Bishop had not been at the service this morning and there were whispers that he had been taken ill.  What also bothered the couple was that their youngest daughter had not arrived for the service either.  It wasn't the first occasion Sarah had gone out into the woods, lost track of time and shown up hours later dirty and hungry but because of her daughter's delicate condition Hannah worried more than usual.  There was a chill in the air this afternoon and even though it was only October, it felt like there could be an early snow.

Sarah walked slowly towards home, the wind whipping her long skirt about as she struggled to keep her shawl around her shoulders. Her braided hair was coming out in long unbridled strands and she shoved the wayward pieces roughly behind her ears, cursing it with each step. She'd lost her prayer kapp again and her Mamm would be real angry with her. The dry autumn leaves went swirling about her feet as she walked and Sarah remarked to herself that there were far too many leaves on the ground already. She walked slowly thinking of the Bishop’s words of the previous day when he’d said she was too simple-minded to care for a baby.  Sarah had proven him wrong of course.  He discovered that she is clever, very clever indeed.  Her stomach growled and she thought of the freshly baked cookies that would be waiting for her, Sarah pulled her shawl tightly about her and started to run.

         

Winter came early that year.  By Thanksgiving there was almost a foot of snow covering the Pennsylvania hills.  Sarah began to show and she positively gleamed with motherhood.  Her mother and her sister began to make quilts, clothing and kapps for the baby and Jacob worked on a cradle for his newest grandchild.  A new Bishop arrived at the end of October without explanation and by Christmas everyone stopped wondering what had happened to Bishop Miller.  His belongings were packed away in case he returned for them and a prayer said for his safety.   Winter turned into spring and Sarah's baby was born, a beautiful baby boy whom she named Thomas after her grandfather. Everyone thought Thomas was perfect so no one took any notice of the small faint birthmark under Thomas' left ear. 

Time went by and no one worried where Sarah went when she disappeared for hours at a time. Nor did anyone ever notice the large pile of dead leaves placed carefully in the middle of woods next to the river.  

If someone were to notice or take the time to look there and brush some of the leaves away, they would see the faint, white remains of some bones, and entangled within the bones, a small faded piece of fabric.  

The type and color of fabric that one might find in a girl's prayer kapp.

31 Days of Halloween Tales ~ Easy to Forget

A chilling tale entitled:

Easy to Forget

Saturday

I just wanted to get away. Just for one night to clear my head.

I had a fight with my husband Hank and I ran out on him. For the first time in eighteen years, I was afraid.

Not afraid of Hank of course, he is a sweetheart, but afraid for our marriage.

I knew the rumors of the Cecil Hotel, living just down the street how could I not, but it was cheap and close and I had been drinking so driving wasn't an option.

I walked the eight blocks, or was it ten? I can't remember now. Things are different here, time is different here.

I didn't hesitate, I walked right into the lobby and checked in without thinking. They asked me for something, I don't remember what now, maybe payment or maybe something else.

Someone keeps knocking at my door but I am afraid to open it. I don't know what they could want, they have already taken everything.

It's Saturday now and I wish I could leave.

Monday??


I wanted to write all this down so someone would know what happened. Maybe it would help someone else, it cannot help me.

What day is it now? How long have I been here?

It doesn't matter. There was a song about a hotel. Maybe you know it. I think it was about this place.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

I have a husband but I can't remember his name now.  Can you please tell him to come get me?



Unknown??


I wish I could go home but I don't remember where that is.

Why am I here?

Someone is calling me.

I can hear them clearly.

I just need to open the window and step outside.

Tell him I love him.

31 Days of Halloween Tales - Food For Thought

A short story entitled:

Food For Thought

You can't ever go back, Tam.

Tammy didn't want to go back, not now not ever.

Tammy loaded up the trunk and the back seat of the car with everything that she managed to salvage from the small two bedroom trailer.

The last three years of her life had been a nightmare. The death of her father four years before had started the wheels turning in the wrong direction and then her mother died a year later. Tammy spent six months in foster care which hadn't been a picnic either until her brother, Arthur managed to gain custody of her.

At first Tammy thought everything was going to be alright but by then Art had married Drew and things went from bad to worse.  With more than enough encouragement from his wife, Art began to dabble in drugs and it wasn't long before  the abuse began. It was bearable at first but as it began to occur more frequently and with greater violence, Tammy realized it was only a matter for time before they killed her, either on purpose or accidentally.

Tammy was tough and it is possible that she could have endured it a while longer if it hadn't been for Belle.  The sweet yellow lab was nothing more than a punching bag for her brother and Drew didn't bother to feed her most of the time. Yeah, maybe she could have lasted a while longer but she was pretty sure Belle couldn't.

She slipped on her backpack and grabbed Belle's leash. The yellow lab would never be hungry again, not as long as Tammy was alive anyway. The backpack was filled with the few valuables her mother had left behind and whatever money Tammy had been able to find hidden in the trailer. It wasn't much but it was enough to get them into California before dark.

Tammy climbed behind the steering wheel of the old Chevy Cavalier and scratched the ears of the dog in the passenger seat next to her. Behind them the last of the trailer burned in the early morning dawn.

It had been six months since Art and Drew disappeared and not one single person had stopped by to see where they were. Someone might come looking eventually, they might even wonder whatever happened to good old Art and Drew.

They wouldn't find them however. They were completely gone.

Belle belched softly in the seat next to her, her tummy full and round once again. Tammy laughed, and realized how ironic it was that while Art and Drew might not have cared for Belle when they were alive, in death, they cared for her more than they would have ever imagined.

Tammy pulled away without giving them another thought leaving the dirt lot and the burning embers behind.

31 Days of Halloween Tales - Pick Your Potion

Love is strange in a little tale entitled:

Pick Your Potion

"Yes, I have a love potion, maybe you'd like to give it a try?"

Lisa looked at the bright pink liquid inside the tiny glass bottle. It couldn't be more than a sip, what could it hurt?

She wanted Leo to fall in love with her and if this was the only way it could happen then it was worth the hefty price the gypsy was asking.

"I'll take it." She looked at the size of the bottle again and asked, "Is one bottle enough?"

The old gypsy cackled sending shivers through the girl's body. "Yes, girl. One bottle is plenty. Ya only needs a sip."

Lisa paid the gypsy and slipped discretely out of the carnival tent.

****

Lisa pulled the scarf tighter around her head, close enough to hide the fresh bruises on her cheek. She slipped into the carnival tent only to find the same old gypsy waiting for her inside. She couldn't believe he was still alive, if he was old ten years ago, he was positively ancient now.

"I need a potion to make someone fall out of love with me. Do you have something like that?"

The gypsy didn't say anything but quietly pulled a small bottle filled with a dark blue liquid out from under the counter and slid it across to her.

"This will make someone stop loving you if that is what you wish. Would you like to give it a try?"

Lisa didn't even look at the price this time. She didn't care, she simply paid the old man what he asked and slipped back out of the tent hoping no one recognized her.

****

"As to Count, One Malice Murder the Jury finds the Defendant,  "Guilty."

Lisa stopped listening after the verdict on the first Count, that was the one that really matter. They could sentence her to death for that. And they might.

As it turned out it hadn't mattered to the Jury that she wasn't aware that there had been a lethal poison in the tiny bottle that she had given to her husband, Leo.  And by then, the gypsy carnival was long gone. Nor had it mattered that he was known on occasion to beat her as that only seemed to give her motive in the first place.

What everyone heard over and over again, the Jury included, was how much Leo had loved her. He never stopped telling his family and his co-workers how much he loved Lisa.

And he always said that he would love her till the day he died.

31 Days of Halloween Tales - Burial

A little Drabble entitled:

Burial

He buried her tiny body in the small patch of soft dirt by the concrete wall and erected a monument above her with stones she had collected herself. 

It didn't matter that it wasn't much, he was the only one who knew she was there.

Friday Flash Fiction.. The Monster in the Closet

I want to start the weekend off on the right foot! A little flash of horror...just for you...

"Jeez, Tom. What's that for? I thought we was gonna play baseball?"

"It's call a Ouija Board…it lets you talk to ghosts."          

"Uh uh."

"Yes, it does. Just watch."           

"But I don't wanna talk to no ghost, Tom. I wanna go outside and play."

"We will. After this, okay? Just sit down on the floor and cross your legs like an Indian."

"Okaaaay."

"Now, put your fingers on the pointer just like me. Okay, now we ask the ghost a question."

"What ya gonna ask 'em?"

"How about… "What's your name?"

"Why you pushing it, Tom?"

"I'm not…it's the ghost. Now be quiet."

"What's it doing?"

"It's spelling out its name I think."

"Whats it spell, Tom?"

"W-E-S-T-L-E-Y"

"That's a funny name. Who is that?"

"Got no idea. Wait, it ain't done moving yet."

"D-O-D-D"

"What's that?"

"I don't know what it means, Frankie. Hey, did you hear that?"

"Yeah. What do ya think it was, Tom?"

"Don't know."

"I'm cold and this ain't no fun no more. Let's go."

"Wait. He's saying something else."

"D-O-N-T-O-P-E-N-C-L-O-S-E-T"

"Don't open closet? What's that mean?

I don't know. Okay, I'm done. Let's go outside. Where's your baseball bat, Frankie?"

"In the closet."

"Let's play on the swings."

Saturday Surprise...

(Instead of Friday Freebie)

A little short I wrote years ago for a creative writing class.. I would write it differently now but this is the original...

The woman stared out of her kitchen window, out over her front lawn and across the street. She watched her neighbor, Mrs. Sullivan, perform her morning ritual of loading her children into her minivan together with numerous brightly colored diaper bags and backpacks. The window was opened to let in the cool summer morning breezes so she could hear their squeals and mindless chatter as they were strapped into their seatbelts and car seats. A tiny smile came to her lips for just a moment then quickly disappeared. She turned away from the happy, chaotic scene, and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell back another flood of tears. 

It had been a long morning already, the heartbreaking decision to leave her newest lover and return to her ex had drained her both physically and mentally. Now all that was left was to tell Mike. She was apprehensive to say the least; he had a temper and could be very nasty when he felt he was cornered. She saw evidence of that temper a couple of times in the past few months, each time more unsettling than the time before. 

The first incident occurred when they were going to dinner one evening and she spoke to him about the reservations she had about where their relationship was going. He had become more and more insistent in the last month that she file for a divorce and move in with him but she wasn’t sure that was what she wanted yet. He suddenly became silent and sullen, the blood rushing to his face. She had tried to reach out to him but stopped short when she realized the car was speeding up. He glared over at her and spit out words like venom, “If I can’t have you no one will. Maybe I should just drive this piece of shit into a stone wall and kill both of us right now!” She began to cry and told him she was sorry, that she didn‘t really mean it, in an attempt to diffuse the situation. He slowed the car down and in an instant seemed to forget what had happened, smiling and joking with her as they drove to the restaurant. They never spoke about it and he acted as if it never happened. 

She, on the other hand, had never forgotten that frightening moment and recalled it very clearly now as she picked up the phone and dialed his number. She could tell he had been sleeping when he answered the phone so she spoke gently to him. He seemed slightly agitated when she asked him over for coffee, it was very early for him, but she begged a little and finally he gave in. Shaking, she put the phone back in the base and sat down to wait.

*****

“I really don’t want to drive down to New London this morning, I have a million things to do,” the girl in the front passenger seat of the beat up 1985 Chrysler whined. The girl was Christine Roberts, a pretty girl with beautiful waist-length blond hair that nearly covered the seat and big blue eyes that were currently throwing daggers at the driver of the car. Her eyes glared at him as she spoke and he had to look away from her for fear she could actually burn a whole through him just by that look. Medusa has nothing on her he thought to himself. 

Michael Jenkins pretended to adjust his review mirror and backed out of the driveway, looking both ways twice before he pulled onto the quiet street. At first, he thought it would be best to ignore her comment and possibly hold off another huge fight but soon realized she was just getting started with her bitching and complaining, a rather nasty habit she had picked up as of late. His head was beginning to pound again. He woke up with a bitch of a headache this morning and this conversation did little to diminish the pain.

“I thought we were going to wait to do this,” Chris said snidely.  Mike looked over at her and shrugged.

“No, I want to get it over with. It is not going to be any easier tomorrow or the day after for that matter and besides, I thought you wanted to get this over as soon as possible also.” The fact was, Christine needed to speak to her estranged husband about a divorce and Mike was sick and tired of her putting it off. It seemed like it was always something with her, another reason to delay the inevitable. He was thrilled they were finally on their way to take care of this little matter but for the life of him, he could not remember her consenting to it this morning. 

He did not let a little forgetfulness stop him however, they were going, and he did not really care how it happened. He loved her more than anything and he knew, no matter how cruel her words or how vicious her actions, that she would love him forever.

Chris glared at him again and made an annoying sound that usually meant she was really ticked off. Mike stared out the windshield and hoped beyond hope that this would end soon. He looked at Christine out of the corner of his eye and thought that although she still seemed to be pissed she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts and quiet for the moment. He guessed the torrent would come shortly so he enjoyed the peace and quiet while it lasted and took in all of the beautiful scenery up the New England coastline as he drove on.

It took nearly an hour before Christine lost her cool again and Mike thought that it might be a new record for her. She seemed to gaze out the window for a moment before directing her eyes back in his direction, this time with a look that could kill.

“I can’t believe we’re not there yet. Where exactly are we, you idiot?”

Mike jolted when she spoke, as he had been lost in his own thoughts for quite some time now. “I decided it would be a prettier drive if we went the back roads down the coastline. Can’t you just enjoy the scenery and relax for once?”

“Well, I suppose I could if I wasn’t on my way to do what I am going to do, Michael.” She always called him by his given name when she was angry and when she was really going off on him during one of her many recent tirades, she would throw in his last name for good measure.

“This is not how I wanted to spend my Friday morning you know, besides, I have a million things I could be doing instead of sight-seeing in your crappy car.” She always exaggerated when she was trying to make a point so Mike was fairly certain she did not have a ‘million’ things to do. His head started to throb again and he started to feel a little queasy as an added bonus.

“Okay, okay, I hear yah. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Can you hang in there just a few more minutes?" He wanted to add, “You pain in the ass,” but thought better of it when he received another killer look from her. Mike looked down at his speedometer and thought he just might be able to speed it up a little if it would make her happy so he pushed the old car to 50 mph. When he pushed down on the accelerator he heard something creak and held his breath for a moment and hoped that the sound was nothing too important and the car would hold together for a little while longer. At least Christine shut up again; apparently content in the increase in speed and knowing this morning would eventually come to an end.

There is a highway along the Connecticut coastline called Route 156. It runs along Long Island Sound and there are several beautiful views along the drive. The road runs through Old Lyme then Niantic, through Waterford and into New London. In the summertime, the beach communities of Old Lyme and Niantic are both filled with tourists, mostly from New York and New Jersey, and there is hardly room to walk let alone drive or park. There are also ‘pedestrian crossing’ signs placed here and there during the summer on this busy road and the speed limit decreases quite significantly through these areas. Most year round residents are aware of these areas and avoid them like the plague as they are frequently patrolled by the extra ‘rent-a-cops’ hired for the summer season. Nevertheless, sometimes a resident forgets and goes flying through one of these areas a little too fast and gets a ticket and a hefty fine to boot for the lapse in memory. 

This morning, Constable Don Riley sat in his patrol car in the Tastee Freeze parking lot when he heard a car coming down Main Street. He had just ordered his lunch and hoped to eat it before the early afternoon rush to the beaches but the car sounded on its last leg and like it just might be going a little too fast. Constable Riley quickly pulled out his radar gun and pointed it out the front window of his patrol car just in time to catch the Chrysler coming over the rise in the road. He looked at the flashing green digital read-out on the gun and sure enough, the car went by him exceeding the speed limit by 6 mph. The constable sighed, turned on the red and blue light bar on top of his car, hit the siren on his dashboard and sped out of the parking lot and in behind the speeding car. He called the East Lyme State Police barracks and notified them of his pursuit of a 1985 blue Chrysler LeBaron, Connecticut License plate number LK5847. 

Constable Riley forgot all about his lunch and it would not be until much later that night that he remembered the fried clams, French fries and cole-slaw slaw that he left at the little drive-up restaurant and thanked God that he never had the chance to eat that meal.

Mike was frantically rubbing his forehead as he entered the city limits of Niantic and did not see the police car sitting in the parking lot as he went through the light. He heard the siren before he noticed the flashing lights in his rearview mirror. He looked down at his speedometer and sure enough, it read 30 mph. “Shit” he yelled as he hit the breaks. Christine lunged forward and he grabbed her just before she went into the dash. Christine stared at him in disbelief and snapped, “What the hell are you doing”? Mike glared at her. “There’s a cop behind us and he’s pulling me over, that’s what I’m doing. Could you just shut up for one friggin minute?” 

Chris made a strange sound and went quiet again. Mike reached past her towards his glove compartment to look for his registration and insurance card when he noticed there was something splashed all over his dashboard. It was something dark red and very sticky and when he looked at it the pain shot through his skull again. He shook his head as if trying to shake something loose in there, something that he needed to remember but gave up when another searing pain made him nearly double over. He looked in his rearview mirror again just to check that the cop was still behind him and did in fact want him to pull over and not some other speeding driver. Apparently, it was Mike the officer wanted to stop, as he was still following him even though Mike had slowed way below the posted speed limit. 

Mike looked for a good spot to pull out of traffic and saw a small abandoned gas station on the right. He swung the Chrysler into one of the vacant parking spaces and shut off the car. Chris seemed to be mumbling something but he couldn’t quite make it out, perhaps she’s just talking in her sleep. He hoped that Christine would sleep right through this and not cause a scene but he didn’t count on it. He reached into his glove box and finally found his registration and insurance card. He looked at Christine to see if she was in fact sleeping but could not tell as her head faced towards the window. It was fine though, as long as she was quiet. He sat back up and looked in the rearview mirror again. The cop seemed to be writing something and talking to someone on his radio. Mike chuckled to himself, “yes, the big bad cop has got me, criminal of the century, nothing better to do than pull me over for going a little fast. Why don’t you get off your fat, doughnut-eating ass and catch some real criminals? There are plenty of drug pushers and child molesters out there and here you are wasting the taxpayer’s money to stop me, a nobody.” 

Mike became more irritated by the moment and his head began to really pound. He kept his eye on the cop and wished he would just hurry up and give him his ticket so he could be on his way. What if Chris woke up and started in on him while the cop was there? What if she started yelling and screaming at him again? The idea stabbed at him from inside his head causing the pain to double. He squeezed his head between his palms like a vice grip and tried to drive out the little bastard that kept jack hammering the inside his skull. Nausea overcame him and he threw up all over his lap, the floor and his new shoes. He stared in disbelief at the chunks of glazed donuts and coffee mixed with something he could not identify and thought to himself that things just could not get much worse. 

However, Mike was quite wrong about that for at the exact same moment he was puking on his Nikes, Officer Riley arrived at the driver’s window of the Chrysler and things definitely got worse. Much, much worse.

Constable Riley always followed protocol, a real straight arrow; he liked rules and regulations and believed that is just the way things should be done. Therefore, after he pulled in behind the offender, he sat in his car and waited to hear back from the barracks on the license plate while he filled out the information on the blank traffic ticket. Date, time, location, road conditions, badge number. He finished filling out what he could and stretched back in his seat to wait for the plate information to come through when he looked up at the driver in the Chrysler. He seemed to be under some kind of distress at the moment. He was grabbing at his head and then seemed to lunge forward into the steering wheel, his shoulders heaving. Oh God, he thought. I have a drunk at 11:30 in the morning; this is going to be a very long day. He stepped out of his car not waiting any longer for the plate rundown and walked over to the LeBaron’s driver’s window. It would indeed be a very long day for Constable Riley.

Sometimes when tragedy strikes, time seems to stop for a while or move in very slow motion and everything becomes surreal. Much later, Don Riley would describe this day exactly that way, that is, when he could finally talk about it, when he was no longer part of law enforcement that is. When he stopped having nightmares every time he closed his eyes. He was never quite the same after that day. Constable Riley approached the car. He saw the driver hunched over the steering wheel and standing slightly behind the driver’s door, tapped firmly on the glass.

            “Please put down the window, sir.”

When the driver looked up at him he could see that the guy had in fact barfed all over himself and looked like death warmed over. His face had a look of pallor and sweat poured over his forehead but what was much worse was the look in his eyes. They looked, well, they looked wrong, just plain wrong. “Okay”, he thought to himself. “I am just going to take a little step back and get a grip.” 

At that moment, the man sitting in the driver’s seat smiled, his teeth filled with something rather nasty, and Don felt his stomach lurch and his vision blur. He blinked hard, straightened his back and looked squarely at the driver. It was then that the Constable became aware that the driver of the old Chrysler was covered not only in vomit but in blood as well. Not only was the man covered, but so it seemed, was the entire inside of the car, the dash, the seats, even the windshield had small droplets scattered here and there. Constable Riley slowly put his hand on his service revolver and began to say, “Put your hands……” when he noticed something in the passenger seat. Something, someone, what? Against all of his training, nearly without thought, he leaned across the blood-covered man to get a better look at the other seat. 

For a moment he wasn‘t sure exactly what he was seeing and then it came into focus. What the Constable saw at that moment his brain could not fully comprehend. He stared at her and as shock set in, his world spun out of control. It would turn out to be the longest day of his life and one he would spend the remainder of his life trying to forget.

By the time Don Riley was finally able to return home, it was after midnight. He shook his head as if to clear out a fog but succeeded only in causing his stomach to wrench. He closed his eyes and the vision from the passenger seat of the car came rushing back to him all at once. 

The severed head of the girl lying in a pile of candy and Ding Dong wrappers on that dirty seat. Big blue eyes opened wide with surprise, the mouth opened in a large, round, red “O”, blond hair matted with dried blood. He did not want to see it, her, anymore. 

Christine Roberts was her name and she had been a beautiful, vibrant girl just twenty-four hours earlier. Sometime around 8:00 a.m. yesterday morning she was beheaded with a 14” Poulan chainsaw by a jealous boyfriend. 

To Constable Don Riley, the world just could not get any stranger. Up until yesterday, he thought he had seen depths of the human depravation pond but now he realized, it was, in fact, an ocean to which there was no bottom.

He lowered his head onto the table and prayed that he could forget long enough to get some sleep.

Home Sweet Haunted Home...

I was doing some research for my book yesterday (which means browsing the net) and did a Google Search on New Canaan Connecticut murder. I have moved my story location to this area as it is close to the New York border where my Protagonist's father works but it is a relatively small town in Connecticut, a bedroom community we used to call it. For some reason, the town name caught my eye. It seemed I remembered a murder happening there once upon a time plus I am familiar with that area in Connecticut. Well, I was in for a little bit of a shock when my search results included a serial killer that was responsible for the deaths of four young children, a teenager who killed his entire family one December morning a week before Christmas, a murder/suicide of a husband and wife and one attempted murder and suicide of a husband and wife.  Now, remember, this is a town with a population of less than  twenty thousand NOW and one of the wealthiest in the nation.

After reading this I have to ask, what the hell is in the water there? What is going on? Is this all just a coincidence?

I might mention that there was also a demon-like idol removed from the woods in Sandy Hook, CT a couple of years before the tragic school shooting.  I have no idea if one had anything to do with the other but when I saw the video about the idol and realized the date it was made and uploaded was several years ago, it did give me pause, I will say that.  

I also came across a website during my "research" called ~ DamnedCT.com. It's filled with all kinds of juicy tidbits about my home state and definitely worth a look if you are interested.

I have to admit it is interesting to know all these interesting facts about my home sweet haunted home as  I, myself, once lived in a haunted house in the small coastal town of Waterford, CT many years ago. I believe it was the ghost of a young man that committed suicide in the house but trust me, I didn't live there long enough to find out one way or another.

Someday I might write the tale of the Ouija board and my hasty retreat thereafter but it has never felt right to do so...but perhaps someday...