“Saw what?” Cindy asked.
Mira looked in the exact spot she’d been fixating on since she arrived at the house. “Mona, use your energy like you did in Ashley’s room and show yourself.”
Mona—the name was familiar to John. How many Monas could there be and who the hell was Mira referring to? He wondered.
Each of the Morrisons turned around in the direction of Mira’s gaze and they almost collapsed when they finally saw what had held her interest for the better part of her visit. An extraordinarily beautiful blonde woman laid out in a cherry-colored casket, wearing a white dress that resembled a wedding gown. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and her hair curled up on top like that of a princess. John nearly fell to his knees while Ashley gasped in horror. Cindy, glancing repeatedly at her husband and the woman in the casket, stood there somewhat peeved, despite her shock. Not a sound penetrated the room and the air felt unusually thick. Around the casket was a circular silver gate which had intricate curves throughout—a remarkable sight to behold. The Morrisons’ feet were pinned to the floor and as ghastly as this was, none of them understood why they hadn’t already fled the room— the house for that matter!
“I’m sorry to ask this in front of your daughter, John, but do you recognize this woman?” Mira asked.
With tears flowing down his cheeks, he nodded. “Yes, I do. Is she…”
“Yes. She’s dead,” Mira told him.
He now understood why he couldn’t reach Mona that day and why she hadn’t returned his call.
“Ashley, is this the woman you’ve been seeing?” Mira asked her. “I know she’s never presented herself to you in this way, but do you recognize her?”
Ashley quickly nodded. “Yes. That’s her. She’s been coming in my room almost every night.”
“She wasn’t trying to scare you, honey, although the way she looked to you would’ve frightened anyone. She was trying to get a message across to you since you’re the innocent one here.”
Mira looked Cindy in the eye. “You know her too; don’t you, Mrs. Morrison?”
Cindy was silent.
“Tell them, Cindy, or I will.”
Mira waited for a few moments, but Cindy’s lips were sealed. She could see her chest heaving as every critical second went by.
“You killed her; didn’t you, Cindy?” Mira said.
All the blood appeared to drain out of John and Ashley’s faces.
Mira was just getting started. “You killed her out of jealousy. You went to her apartment, pretending to be a salesperson and once she allowed you inside, you held her up at gunpoint. You tied her hands, then you took her for a ride, the entire time accusing her of having an affair with your husband. And once you drove to that deserted spot, you made her get outside, you pushed her down on the dirt and instead of using the gun you’d pointed at her the entire time, you pulled out a knife from your jacket pocket. You didn’t want her to go quickly; you really wanted her to suffer. You bent over and stabbed the life right out of her. You threw the knife in the bushes, changed your blood-spattered clothes and tossed them in a dumpster a mile down the road. It rained cats and dogs that night, Cindy,” Mira emphasized. “You left her on the ground in the dirt and you went on with your life. You moved here to Mizpah a month later to hopefully bury the memories of what you’d done.”
John walked over to his wife; his face soaked with tears. “Is that true, Cindy? Did you do this?”
Her face was stoic and she was looking away.
“Tell me if you did this, dammit!”
Cindy finally looked at him. Her eyes were darker. “You think I didn’t know you were seeing her for eight months behind my back?!” she growled.
“I’m wrong for that, Cindy, but I had called it off with Mona and hadn’t spoken to her for weeks. I chose my family,” he said passionately. “In all that time I never looked back. I wanted to put it behind me and for us to move on with our lives.”
“Is that all, John?” Mira asked.
He gulped. “After our heated argument this morning, today was the first time since I closed that chapter that I felt I needed to speak to her again. You make it so hard for me to love you, Cindy!” The tears were falling again. “God knows I tried my hardest and that I still love you, in spite of everything. You didn’t have to do what you did. It was over.”
Cindy seemed unsure of how to react. “I gave you everything. Everything! The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect family! And all you did was turned around after I gave you all of that and spat in my face. I hate you, John. I really do. I don’t think I ever loved you.”
Ashley was stunned by her mother’s revelation.
“So, why did you marry me then?” John blurted. “Why didn’t you leave me the hell alone a long time ago?”
“Because you were the right guy—at least for my image,” she said. “You had everything going for you. You were handsome, smart, intelligent, landed a great job. No woman in her right mind would let you go once she had you in her claws.”
“Mom, how could you say such things?” Ashley cried.
Cindy’s eyes were fixated on John. “I hate you, John Morrison. I wish I’d killed both of you! Mona, or whatever her name is, deserved what she got.”
John shook his head in disgust and walked away to hold his daughter.
Suddenly, the room became frigidly cold and Mona sat straight up in her casket, but she didn’t look the same. Her hair was muddy and matted, one of her eyes was swollen and the other missing—just as Ashley had always seen her. Her clothing was soiled and ripped, and the smell of death surrounded her, annihilating the steel rail that had once encircled her casket.
Ashley screamed and held onto her father tightly. John was horrified by the gruesome sight of the woman he’d come to love.
Cindy was trembling with fear, but her lips still worked. “Get out of our lives, you whore! You’re dead! I killed you, remember?”
“Don’t!” Mira shouted at Cindy.
Mona abruptly turned around and stared at her killer, with rage consuming every fiber of her ghostly being. With supernatural force, she leapt out of the casket and landed directly in front of Cindy. Cindy found her feet literally stuck to the floor. She could not move an inch. The giant chandelier above them began to shake, as if being hastily loosened from its hinges. Mira sensed what was about to happen and if only for Ashley’s sake, knew she must step in to prevent it. She didn’t want the child having to live with the memory of her mother being impaled by a fallen chandelier.
Mira approached Mona. “Mona, you’ll have your justice and a proper burial. I know that’s all you want. You don’t want to exact revenge on this woman in front of her child. Ashley hasn’t done anything to you.”
The chandelier was shaking wildly. John and Ashley watched in horror.
“See…” Mira showed the woman the tiny tape recorder in her hand. “Her confession is all here and even if this doesn’t hold, I’ll go to court as a witness. Trust me, you will get your justice. And I will direct the Colonsboro police to your remains. I see the area and the name of the road in my mind’s eye. I promise you, you will be buried in that cherry casket you like, even if I have to pay for it myself.”
Mona’s expression softened and suddenly the twirling of the chandelier slowed down, then finally came to a halt. Slowly backing away from her killer, Mona then turned to John. There was sadness in her face and he could tell.
“I’m sorry, Mona,” he said. “This is all my fault. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to you.”
She placed a shriveled finger on his lips and shook her head.
“She wants you to forgive yourself, John,” Mira told him. “Otherwise, she won’t be able to rest in peace—ever. That’s how much she loves you.”
John was tearing up again and so was Ashley. Though she didn’t approve of her father’s affair, Ashley admired the love between them—something she’d never sensed existed with her parents.
“O
kay,” John said. “I’ll try my best.”
Mona seemed satisfied. She looked at them all once again, then slowly disintegrated into thin air.
Mira went over to Ashley and held her as well. “She’s not coming back. Okay?”
Ashley nodded and sobbed in her arms. John let go and was looking over at his wife whose face was still void of emotion.
He shook his head and walked over to the telephone. “I’m calling to report a murder,” he said to the person on the other line, moments later.
Everyone stood silently as he conveyed the details to the 911 dispatcher.
“The killer is my wife.”
* * *
Cindy Morrison was picked up that night by the local police. After John had made that call, she never spoke another word to anyone, including her daughter. Mira, John and Ashley watched as she was handcuffed and taken away.
Colonsboro police confirmed with authorities in Mizpah that there was a missing person’s case involving a Mona Kirkpatrick. She’d been reported missing from six weeks earlier.
After being transported back to Colonsboro to face first degree murder charges, upon the advice of her attorney, Cindy decided to take a plea deal–for purely selfish reasons. She wanted to avoid the death penalty. Based on her confession, Mona’s body was recovered from bushes near a desolate road called Willow’s End. The cool temperature had preserved the body to the extent it was clearly identifiable by her next of kin. The knife Cindy used to commit the murder was found in nearby bushes. Fate had it that way, as she’d never directed them to it. She refused any contact by her family. In her mind, they were dead just as her dream of having the perfect life now was. And just like Mona was.
Mona Kirkpatrick was buried in a lovely cherry casket and was laid out in a stunning white gown—exactly like the one Mira, Ashley, John and Cindy had seen her in that night when all was revealed. She looked like a princess and Mira knew she was finally at peace.
John could not bring himself to attend the funeral for fear that Mona’s loved ones were bitter against him for the irreversible actions of his wife. The day of her funeral, he sank into a deep depression, only coming out days later when he remembered what Mira had told him Mona needed in order to rest in peace. Ashley never blamed her father, but tried her best to comfort him since she knew he’d held himself responsible for the destruction of his family and the tragic end of Mona’s life.
John and Ashley Morrison remained in the house opposite the Cullens’ residence. There were no more instances of paranormal activity and they went on with their lives.
May the soul of thirty-six-year-old Mona Kirkpatrick rest in peace.
~ The End ~
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FREE EXCERPT
PROLOGUE
It was a day and age much like today where every town, generation and household held firmly its secrets—torrid improprieties they would protect to the end of the world. Yet some secrets back then were far too shocking and disturbing to contain—ones entangled with emotions of such intensity that would shock the very life out of 'innocent', reserved folk.
The year was 1861. The town of Mizpah was on the verge of the abolition of slavery. White people with a conscience and black folk alike prayed and fought long and hard for the day when all human beings were considered equal in the eyes of the law.
Cornelius Ferguson, only the wealthiest planter in all of Mizpah, didn't support the views of the abolitionist movement in that territory nor in any other for that matter. Negro labor was highly favorable for his pockets and he couldn't imagine conducting his plantation affairs by any other means.
June 12th of 1861 was the day his life would forever change. It was the day a colored girl by the name of Karlen Key walked through his door. She was beautiful, literate, well-spoken—a rare breed and long-awaited trade off from another planter across the river. Cornelius had been anticipating her arrival. Germina, a rotund, elderly house slave with a few long strands protruding from her chin, met Karlen at the door and showed her where to put her tattered bag. Cornelius stood thirty feet away in the great room facing the entrance way, highly pleased and mesmerized by the new addition to his household. Karlen's eyes met his for a brief moment before she quickly lowered her head, made a slight bow and greeted her master. The twenty-one-year-old had no idea that her arrival at the Ferguson plantation would alter the course of her life and those around her in a most uncanny way.
1
_________________
Summer of 1965
"Wade! Mira!" Sara Cullen called her kids from outside the kitchen door. "Time to come inside and get yourselves cleaned up for dinner!"
Fourteen-year-old, Wade and thirteen-year-old, Mira were in the road playing 'bat and ball' in front of their yard with Monique Constantakis and her cousin Philip. Mira had just swung the bat for her turn to run the bases.
"Let's go!" Wade shouted to his sister as she considered one last run before heading inside. "If you don't come now, I'm leaving you and you'll be in big trouble with Dad." On that, he took off up to the driveway of their home and Mira, with a tinge of disappointment, handed the bedraggled, semi-splintered bat to Monique who was standing behind her.
"See you later," Monique said, visibly disappointed that her new friend had to leave.
"Yeah," Mira said before heading up the driveway behind her brother who had disappeared into the house.
The table, as usual, had been beautifully set for dinner. Sara Cullen was a true perfectionist and wanted everything to be just right when her husband of fifteen years, Michael, stepped into the dining room for his meal. She worshipped the dirt the man walked on and kept herself in the finest physical shape she could possibly manage. She was five feet, ten inches tall, and remarkably thin. Her hair was long, black and curly, and her features narrow. Michael Cullen was not the most attractive man in the world, but he carried big, broad shoulders and a six-pack most men would die for. Furthermore, he collected a handsome paycheck at the end of each week, lived in a nice neighborhood, and sported a two-year-old red Jaguar. Nevertheless, Sara—Head Nurse at Freedom Hospital—could not be accused of being with him solely for his money or his executive status at the State-run Gaming Board. They had met fresh out of high school when all they had ahead of them were nothing more than dreams and aspirations.
Mira sat at the table first though Wade had been the first to wash up.
"Wade! Where are you?!" Sara cried, as she hurried around placing the remaining items on the table. The boy showed up moments later.
"Where were you all that time?" Sara asked. "You know I like both of you to be seated before I call your dad out."
"I had to… brush my hair." Wade lowered his head slightly.
"That's a lie!" Mira blurted with a wide smile. "He had to use the toilet!"
"Liar!" Wade rebutted.
"You had to use the toilet! You had to use the toilet!" Mira sang.
"Now stop it - both of you!" Sara barked. "This is no time for games... and wipe that smile off your face Mira; I'm not playing!"
"Yes, Mother," Mira softly replied.
The children composed themselves and waited patiently for their father who emerged a few minutes later from the master bedroom.
"Kids…" Michael hailed straight-faced as he sat down.
Both children responded monotonically, "Hi, Dad."
Sara joined them moments later.
As was customary for the family, they all bowed their heads at the sound of Michael's utterance, "Let us pray" before diving into
their meals.
From her chair, Mira watched as her mother talked and talked to her father while he engaged very little in the conversation. It was like that all the time and Mira was beginning to wonder why her mother even tried. What Sara saw in Michael that was so appealing and attractive totally eluded Mira. Michael was a brutally rigid man who, in his daughter's opinion, always seemed to wish he was somewhere else other than at home.
"May I be excused?" Mira asked fifteen minutes later, wanting to escape the drab, depressive atmosphere of the room.
"But you hardly touched your casserole," Sara said, noticing for the first time that her daughter had barely eaten.
"I'm not hungry."
"Are you all right, honey?" Sara asked, as Michael continued his meal supposedly unaffected.
"Yes, Mom. I just feel a bit tired and would like to lie down," Mira replied.
"You may leave," Michael said, not making eye contact.
"Well then…" Sara continued, "I'll cover your plate for you in case you get hungry before bedtime."
"Thanks Mom." Mira backed out from the table and retreated to her bedroom.
Approximately a half hour later, there was a light tap at the bedroom door. The doorknob turned slowly, then Sara walked in. "Are you all right?" She asked Mira who was curled up in bed with a Sherlock Holmes mystery.
"Sure." Mira sat up as her mother proceeded to the side of the bed.
She felt her daughter's forehead with the back of her hand. "No fever. That's good. Are you sure you're okay?" The look she gave was a combination of suspicion and concern.
"Yes. I'm really fine, Mom. I just wasn't hungry; that's all—I guess from all that running around earlier."
"I see." Sara got up. "Well, like I said… if you get hungry later, your food is right there covered in the refrigerator. Wouldn’t want you going to bed empty only to wake up all gassy in the morning."
The Cornelius Saga Series Box Set 2 Page 25
