Kylie felt an icy chill course up her spine as she watched, too terrified to move. It was all she could do to keep breathing. The laughter rose to a deafening pitch as containers of all kinds joined their brethren in flight, turning the lower level of the shop into a tornado of destruction. The laughter became a menacing and ominous voice of rage and anger as the walls continued to quiver. Lights came on, even though Kylie knew well enough that this was impossible based on her visit back in May. Initially, they flickered on and off and then, as if working in a coordinated fashion, glared on at once glowing with an intensity that far exceeded the bulbs capacity.
Terry and Patricia remained prone, averting their eyes from the blinding lights. When she could no longer stand it, Kylie followed suit, clasping her hands over her own eyes to block out the light until the bulbs, one by one, exploded in their settings and the room was once again illuminated only from the lamps that Terry had set out earlier. Some were tipped over from the furor of the flying containers, but all had amazingly remained lit. As soon as the lights went dark, what glass was left in the windows around them exploded inward sending shards of nasty, barbed needles in every direction. Terry covered Patricia with his own body as the glass peppered them in a storm of splinters. Kylie, in turn, followed his example, ducking quickly behind an old counter that looked as if it had at one time been where retail customers purchased cuts of meat.
Just when they thought all the rage and fury from the psychopathic Evans had been exhausted, Kylie looked upwards, her ears picking up a frightening and alarming sound of the cracking and splintering of wood, plaster, and tile. The next thing she knew, Terry had grabbed her around the waist with one arm as he pulled Patricia along with the other. All she saw as she glanced back were huge fissures forming in the ceiling of the upper level as Terry kicked open the front door with one foot. The three of them spilled out onto the landing and onto the dirt of the former lawn to one side. The upper floor gave way just as they spilled out to safety, and furniture and fixtures and other items left behind from years before came crashing through the fractures in the ceiling. In just a few minutes, all was silent again. There was just a jumble of contents from the shop all throughout the lower level, as clouds of dust billowed and then settled again.
Kylie sat up as a few trickles of blood ran down from her scalp. She assumed this was either from the exploding glass or some other projectiles during the exorcism…otherwise, she seemed unscathed. Terry stood and lifted Patricia to him, hugging her tightly as they both trembled. Like Kylie, Terry had suffered just some minor cuts on his arms and cheeks. His immediate action to protect Patricia had been just in time…she was unmarked as far as Kylie could see.
“You OK, Kylie?” Terry asked as he and Patricia sat with her on the stoop.
“Yeah…I think so…you?
Terry nodded as he breathed heavily, finally able to relax.
“Did it work?” Kylie asked.
Patricia lifted her head. Closed her eyes and then nodded at last.
“This your average dwelling exorcism?” Kylie asked once some time had passed.
Terry grinned and chuckled.
“Hardly….” he said, “this was one nasty SOB and he did not go down without a fight, as I guess you gathered. We have never seen anything like this…ever.”
“You’re sure though? This asshole has been banished to whatever corner of hell he belongs in?”
“Very colorful, my dear,” Patricia replied, “but, yes…it is finally over. He is long gone, never to return. All his victims, including your beloved Joshua, have been released as well.”
Kylie nodded and felt a few stray tears fall from her eyes at the mention of Josh’s name.
“Thank you so much…” Kylie whispered through her quavering voice.
Terry and Patricia stood and dusted themselves off before walking over all the debris and picking through the rubble to retrieve Patricia’s book and the valise. As Kylie watched them, she looked up at the window where she had months ago leaped to her safety. Through the opening a large mass of mist and vapor emerged, taking the vague shapes of humans as they moved away from the house. In the cloud, only a single face was discernible to her…it was her visitor. He tented his hands at his chin and mouthed the words “thank you” before melding back into the amorphous ball. It then condensed to an egg-shaped spot of bright green, flew high into the night sky and disappeared.
The Newholds re-emerged from the shop, the sacred book tucked protectively under Patricia’s arm as Terry supported her on the other side, the valise firmly in his grasp.
“Can we drop you somewhere?” Terry asked.
“Thanks, but my apartment is just on the other side of town. I think I need some air after all of this.”
“Good enough, Kylie. You take care. Get on with your life, OK?”
“You are the second person to suggest that, Terry. Seems like good advice.”
Kylie stood on the side of the road and waved as Patricia pulled her hood back over her head and they drove off. The refurbished hearse vanished, leaving just a trail of dust from the road in its’ wake. Like they had never been here at all, Kylie mused…she was about to begin her slow and measured walk home when she turned to give the old butcher’s shop one final look. High in the window out front, the same one from which she had crashed through, she saw a light. Her heart skipped a beat, fearing all of the night’s efforts had been for naught. But as she looked closer, the light transformed from a white vapor to a light blue to the hue of green that matched the cloud of the victims from just a moment before.
Kylie moved toward the house, feeling herself drawn by some unknown pull. Once she was back under the window, she looked up to see that the green mist had materialized into an orb with a well-defined face…it was Josh. He held up his hand and waved as Kylie returned the gesture, tears now streaming down her face. As with the visitor, Kylie was able to hear Josh in her head:
“Listen to them, Kylie…get on with your life. I’ll be alright now. And I will never forget you. I know you feel the same. I’m always around if you need to talk or anything…take care…I have to go now…”
“Josh! Wait! Please!!!!” Kylie cried out aloud.
But as she moved closer to the shop, the green orb fell apart and just disappeared…Kylie fell to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably.
Epilogue
Manassas, Virginia
November 14, 2005, 7 PM
Kylie packed up what few things she had in the apartment in Yellow Sulfur and loaded the old Outback she and Josh had shared from their short but intense relationship. Now that Larry Evans and his reign of terror on Yellow Sulfur visitors was over, she was taking the repeated advice she had received and was moving on. She had accomplished what had been asked of her. There was nothing more for her here now…just bad memories. She drove north to just south of Washington, D.C. to pay her last respects at the site of the grave where Josh’s parents had buried him. She knew in her heart that it must be annoying Josh to have his earthly remains interred in a place he detested, but the act had been more for his parents anyway.
As she drove north, and the traffic got more congested and crazy, Kylie got a good picture of why Josh was not so enamored of northern Virginia. She had thought of dropping by his folks’ house to offer her condolences, but after so much time, she was not sure opening an old wound on the whole thing would help. And on top of that, she was not really sure what type of reception she might receive from them…for all she knew they could be firmly in the camp of people who still thought she had gotten away with murder. So she drove on, past the gated community and onto the cemetery where Josh’s headstone was located. The light was fading as she finally got to the grounds and she had to drive around the circular layout a few times before locating his grave. The map seemed logical, but once she tried to navigate the actual roads of the graveyard she saw it was a bit more convoluted than she had anticipated.
Just before the sun set completely, Kylie found Jo
sh’s headstone. It was a simple marker, one that in Kylie’s mind befit the simple nature and personality of the man she had known. With a flashlight to help her, Kylie cleared away the old, dried grass and dead flowers that were there, replacing them with a fresh bouquet of flowers that she had brought along. She knelt on the earth just to the side of the marker, her knees pressing into the not yet frozen soil…even for November she guessed the hard freeze of late fall had yet to arrive. She closed her eyes as she cried softly, not knowing what to say. Perhaps it was all still too fresh in her heart. After a few moments, Kylie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and prepared to get up to find a place to stay for the night before continuing her journey north to the university in southern Maine that she was to enroll in beginning in the spring semester.
The sun had dropped away fully in the time Kylie had been at the grave, and a sudden chill wind arose whipping her long brunette hair about her face. She pulled her hair back and was about to depart when she saw that the gust had blown over the container of flowers she had just set at the headstone. She reached out to readjust the vase when the ground over Josh’s grave broke open and a bloody cleaver emerged. Kylie froze in disbelief. Before she could move another hand broke through the loose ground, grasping her firmly by the wrist, and pulling her hard to the sod, her face just inches from the menacing steel of the cleaver. Kylie pulled back as hard as she could, but the grip on her wrist was like iron…it was useless. She was sure there was no help around at this hour in the small isolated cemetery, but out of pure reflex, Kylie screamed for help with all she had.
The grip continued to pull her down and she closed her eyes as her face was smashed into the dirt. She continued to struggle and cry out, but when Kylie opened her eyes again, she found herself in a tangle of sheets in the bed she and Josh had shared in Yellow Sulfur. She was coated in sweat, gasping for air as she writhed and squirmed wildly until she realized where she was. The dream again…but it was much worse this time. She pulled her wrist from between the narrow gap of the upright metal posts of the headboard and massaged her sore and bruised wrist as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Despite all the advice she had received to move on…to get on with her life…Kylie had been unable to do so. Like the old victims of Larry Evans at The Virginia Meat Emporium, Kylie was similarly stuck in Yellow Sulfur.
She knew it was psychologically damaging to her, but she just could not walk away. When the dreams had begun back in late October…who was she kidding…it wasn’t dreams…it was just the same one over and over. In each episode, she visited Josh’s grave and each time without fail, she was attacked by an unseen assailant from underground…though she knew who it was. As the dream kept getting more real and more dangerous, Kylie began to consult Dodie Westerly, one of the resident psychologists she had known of on campus at Virginia Tech. Dodie was easy to talk to, and Kylie was sure of the confidentiality of her sessions. Slowly, she felt like she had been making progress with Dodie, but in just the last few days Kylie felt as if she as backsliding.
The dream was so vivid and real now, it was taking her longer and longer to wake up from it and realize where she was and that the dream was not real…just her subconscious taking her along for a ride. Kylie’s dependence on sleeping pills and alcohol was not helping either, she was sure, but otherwise, she could not function at all. With her breathing finally under control, Kylie moved to the bathroom and washed her face with cold water. She looked up, the droplets of water hanging to her chin and the tip of her nose as the excess drained from her skin. She could hardly recognize herself anymore.
Her once lustrous and flowing brunette mane was thinning and the hair brittle and worn. The lines in her face were growing…hardly what was normal for a young woman. It was like she had aged ten or twenty years since the exorcism at the butchery. She wiped her face dry and padded through the apartment. Dodie had urged her vehemently to leave Yellow Sulfur. Kylie had said she would “take it under advisement”, but in her heart, she knew this would never happen. Even the butcher’s shop had been demolished and carted away. Once the discovery had been made that the upper floor had somehow collapsed, the town had the place razed and the remnants hauled away, leaving just a bare concrete pad behind.
Kylie sat at the small table just off the kitchen area and stared out at the bare tree branches as a few flurries began to fly past her window in the weak morning light. She had her old coffee mug clasped tightly between her hands, but on this morning as was the case with most mornings, scotch, as opposed to coffee, filled Kylie’s cup. Her hands trembled slightly as she lowered the mug to the table. A soft knock came at her door as she released the mug and Kylie forced herself up, figuring it was Edna Rogers dropping by to see why the rent was way overdue. Kylie undid all the locks and opened the door as the wind whipped snowflakes past her and inside. However, it was not Edna Rogers at her door…in fact it was no one at all, which confused Kylie at first, as she was sure she had heard a knock.
She was about to close the door, thinking maybe a stray branch had snapped off a tree and collided with her door when she looked down. There on the worn mat, she used to wipe off her feet was a well-used, but obviously recently honed butcher’s knife. It was smeared with dried blood stains and was holding down a scrap of paper that as blowing in the wind, threatening to pull free from under the knife. Kylie felt her blood run cold and it had nothing to do with the weather. She bent over and tugged the paper free, its age and condition feeling rough in her fingers. One side was blank, but as she turned it over she felt as if she was no longer able to draw a breath as she read it:
Paid Apprenticeship Available
Call Larry at 703-493-9749 for details
Kylie felt her whole-body shudder as she lost her grip on the note and it flew from her grasp, cartwheeling through the driveway and then going airborne across the road and out of her sight…
The Haunting of Cleeman House
By Riley Amitrani
Prologue
Poolewe, Scotland, United Kingdom, 1840
Despite its relative isolation from the more populated and congested environs of the major cities in Scotland of its day, Poolewe, sandwiched between Loch Ewe and Loch Maree, did not escape the ravages and wrath of the great cholera pandemic of 1832. In that day, Scottish industry began to flourish and as more and more people were drawn to urban areas, overcrowding became inevitable. The overwhelming influx of people looking for work led to the creation of slums. The living conditions were appalling with clean water and sanitation facilities being far too scarce to accommodate the populations. The overcrowding, though, was just part of the issue…the growing presence of filth and dirt due to poor or non-existent sanitation led to the spread of typhus and typhoid, neither of which were strangers to Scotland in that day.
However, the trade connections between the major cities and outlying British Empire brought a new and lethal plague: cholera. It was not until the late 1800’s that the urban city fathers realized the connection between this new disease problem and clean water and living conditions at which time a much needed, but highly criticized clean water supply and sewage removal system was implemented. It was an ambitious engineering feat at the time, but the cost of the proposal made the residents and government officials reluctant. Over time the conditions in larger cities improved, but by the time this occurred, the damage to a large proportion of the population was done. While the debate and resistance to such decisions dragged on, many fled to smaller outlying villages and hamlets to escape the spread of the pandemic.
Such was the case for John and Mary Bishop. Like many others before him, John Bishop had moved into Glasgow based on the opportunities for work. After a few years, he and Mary had a daughter, Helen, and they could not have been happier. Even with the horrid overcrowded conditions of the slum in which they resided, John and Mary felt as if they had a bright future. As Helen turned six, the height of the cholera plague began to take hold, especially in their slum. John sat by he
lplessly as neighbors and friends succumbed to the disease. It seemed to be a random scourge, often decimating entire families, while leaving others mysteriously unscathed. However, it was not until Mary fell ill in 1831 that the impact of the cholera epidemic hit home for John.
They had just been getting by both financially and from a health perspective when Mary first fell ill. The normal symptoms of cholera, such as severe vomiting and diarrhea leading to extreme dehydration was common, and John had unfortunately seen this all too often in his congested enclave. However, when Mary contracted it, the rare expression of seizure and shock accompanied the normal symptomology, and before he realized it, Mary was beyond help and died quickly. It was a sudden and especially brutal demise to watch, and it left John shattered. Since standard health conditions in the slum often gave most everyone the symptoms associated with cholera, it was often ignored until it was too late. In fact, this was the case for John and Mary Bishop. For days and then weeks, Mary insisted that it was nothing despite her continual decline. John was concerned, but until Mary had the seizure that eventually killed her, he never thought that she might actually have fallen victim to cholera.
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