The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors

by Jeff DeGordick

"A single, vengeful idiot, you mean," Don said.

  Brett stood by, feeling embarrassed. "It was only a prank," he muttered.

  Robert was about to muse how they still never found out who set the fire, then his eyes sharpened on Brett. "What did you say, son?"

  Brett realized his mistake, and he looked at Robert in horror.

  "What did you just say?" he asked again. "Did you start that fire?"

  "I... um..."

  Tommy stepped forward. "I started the fire, Dad," he said. "I never told you because I knew you'd be mad."

  His father looked at him.

  "It was just supposed to be a prank. I told Brett about it after, and I made him promise not to tell anyone else."

  "Explain yourself, boy," Robert said sternly, anger arching his eyebrows.

  Tommy stuttered, looking for the words. "I... I saw everyone standing around, and I thought it would be funny to light a fire behind the house and make the witch come out. But she never did. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to."

  Brett stared at Tommy in shock.

  Robert looked down at his son with intense disappointment. "We'll talk about this later," he said. "For now, we've got to get home and recuperate."

  As the crowd started to disperse down the hill, Brett walked over to Tommy and nudged him. Tommy turned to him.

  "Why did you do that?" Brett asked.

  Tommy shrugged. "I knew it made you feel bad, and I didn't want you to feel bad."

  Brett nodded slowly, struggling to understand his reasoning. But he was thankful that Tommy did that. As he looked at Tommy, a strange, almost alien feeling rose up in him. "Thank you," he said.

  Robert, Carmen and Tommy stood in the woods, watching everyone else leave with their children. He notified the state level, and they were on their way with some help to rebuild, but for now he needed to get his children to safety. He turned and looked at his daughter.

  She saw him staring at her injuries, and she said, "It's okay, Dad. I can walk. I'm just going to be a little slow."

  "Nonsense," he said, then he bent and swept her off her feet, holding her in his arms.

  She giggled, feeling like Daddy's little girl again for the first time since her mother died.

  Robert crouched down and grabbed Tommy's hand, and the three of them made their way back to town.

  "I know you didn't start that fire," Robert said to Tommy.

  Tommy looked up at him. "How did you know?" he asked, dumbfounded.

  Robert smiled. "A good police chief always knows. But that was very brave of you to cover for a friend like that."

  Tommy nodded slowly, staring out into the distance and appreciating the wisdom.

  Carmen lay in her hospital bed, fiddling with the edge of her gown. She stared at the clock on the wall and watched the time tick away. She sighed.

  Her father and brother had just stopped in to visit her along with a couple of her friends from college. Even Peter stopped by with her father's permission, apologizing for being incapacitated and not able to help her defeat the witch. Carmen apologized for her father, and her father also apologized to Peter for mistreatment. All around, everyone in the town had a heavy cloud of regret hanging over them.

  The doctors performed some surgery on Carmen's injuries, and they said she would make a speedy recovery, but she didn't agree with their definition of "speedy" anymore. She picked up the remote off the bedside table and turned on the TV, mindlessly flipping channels. But it was all just noise to her, and she shut it off. Her head sank down against the pillow and she let out a long breath.

  There was a knock at her door.

  Carmen looked over and saw Stacy peeking in. "Oh, Stacy... What are you doing here?"

  "I just came to visit," Stacy said. "Can I come in?"

  "Yeah, of course. Sorry..."

  Carmen pushed herself up in her bed as Stacy opened the door and walked in the room, holding a bouquet of flowers.

  "Oh, you didn't have to do that," Carmen said, smiling.

  "I think I did," Stacy replied, setting them down on the table next to her. "Just to apologize for being... well, a bitch. And for saving my life."

  Carmen played it off. "Ah, it was no big deal."

  Stacy smirked. "What, you do that every Halloween?"

  "Every other Halloween," Carmen said, smirking back.

  Stacy sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall in front of her. "I've been so terrible to everyone all these years," she said. "So stuck inside my own head, caring what everyone else thinks. But you're different. You always do the right thing. You just... you're a good person, Carmen."

  Carmen blushed. "Well, sometimes you just gotta grab life by the—"

  Vince poked his head in the room. "There you are, Baby," he said. "I was looking all over the place for you." He barged right in without paying any attention to Carmen. "Come on, let's go."

  "Vince, what are you doing here?" Stacy asked, anger on her face.

  "What does it looked like, Baby? I'm coming to pick you up. I heard you were here visiting someone." He glanced at Carmen at last but didn't even give her a nod. He looked over at the flowers. "You didn't buy these, did you, Baby? I told you not to spend money on stupid things like this!"

  "Vince, get out of here!" Stacy said. "I told you, we're through."

  "We ain't through," he said. He walked up to her with a fiery look in his eyes, as if asking her how dare she say something like that to him. He sank down on the bed, landing on Carmen's bad leg, and she bolted upright in bed with tears in her eyes. Vince adjusted himself off of it, but he didn't pay any attention to her. "You're coming with me... now." He grabbed her by the wrist.

  Stacy grabbed him by the crotch.

  Vince's eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

  She stood up and pulled him off the bed, squeezing harder. She heard a little whimper escape his throat, and she dragged him back toward the door and slammed him against the wall, never letting go of her grip. She was tired of being pushed around by jerks, and letting them walk all over her and Brett. They were nothing but a bad influence, and now that part of her was over forever. She got right in his face as tears came out of his eyes.

  "Do you need your ears cleaned out?" Stacy asked. "You and I are through. For good. If you ever come near me again... if you ever come near Brett again... I won't be so nice next time. Understand?"

  He nodded rapidly, his face twisting in pain.

  "Now get... out of here!" She shoved him through the open doorway, and he crashed into a gurney, tipping it over as he fell to the ground. The orderlies in the hall stared at him, and Vince pushed himself up to his feet, his face reddening. Embarrassed, he pulled his jacket straight, then he headed for the nearest stairwell.

  Carmen smiled at Stacy as she turned around. "Well look at you, grabbing life by the balls."

  Carmen and Tommy sat at the dinner table, and Robert waltzed into the room carrying a large platter. "Dinner is served!" he said, laying it on the table.

  Carmen was a few weeks out of the hospital, and feeling much better, though the doctors told her to be careful for a while on her leg and her shoulder. She put a hand on her father's arm and smiled at him. "I'm really glad you're spending more time with us, Dad," she said.

  "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Sweetpea," he said, looking at Tommy and rustling his hair. "From now on, I'm going to be shifting around the officers' hours, and giving myself a little more time off."

  Tommy couldn't have been happier to hear him say that as he fixed his hair.

  The kids started pulling dinner from the platter onto their plates, but before they dug in, Robert stopped them.

  He stared down at his wedding band on his finger, and fiddled with it. "Why don't we say a little prayer before dinner tonight?" he suggested.

  Tommy gave him a strange look. "But Dad, we're not religious."

  "Not really a prayer, then," Robert said. "But I think it would be nice to remember your mom... maybe say a few memories you
have of her."

  Carmen smiled, happy that he was including her in this. For the first time in years, it felt like their happy family was complete again.

  The three of them went around, sharing some happy memories, and they all laughed and smiled as they remembered the matron saint who was the glue in their family. When they finished, they all resolved to always keep her in their memories with everything they did. They ate their dinner in peace and quiet, a constant smile on each of their faces.

  "So does that mean you'll take me to the arcade sometime?" Tommy asked halfway through dinner.

  Robert smiled. "I'll tell you what, I'll even take you trick-or-treating next year."

  "You will?" Tommy asked with excitement.

  "Of course. I'll even take the whole day off work if I have to. Just you and me, what do you say?"

  Carmen was thrilled beyond belief to see her little brother smile again like this. The whole town quickly went back to normal as everyone healed from their terrible ordeal. They had still lost a few of them in senseless accidents or tragedies under the witch's spell, but as the years went on, they forgot that that terrible house on the hill—and the witch inside of it—ever even existed.

  THE END

  Enjoyed this book? GET THE SEQUEL HERE:

  The Witches of Halloween Haven

  Turn the page to read The Winterlake Haunting

  Taillights

  The smell of burning rubber hung on the cold air. It entered Noel's nostrils on sharp winds. It was a familiar smell. His bare feet traipsed through the gentle layer of night snow as his body seemed to carry him automatically forward without his will. His teeth chattered in his Paw Patrol pajamas, his worn white blanket hanging loosely on his left arm. Puffs of white vapor drifted out of his mouth and joined with the pleasing spectacle of the big and falling snowflakes.

  Red taillights appeared in the distance, glowing mutedly through the whiteness. Noel knew what that meant: pain and fear awaited him... and death.

  Tears plunged out of his eyes and froze on his rosy cheeks as his feet pattered across a bare patch in the snow. The rough asphalt scraped his skin and chilled him to the bone. His body drifted ever closer to the miserable wreck.

  He slipped on a patch of ice and fell to his knees, scraping one of them. But he pushed himself up with his tiny hands and kept walking.

  The bank leading down from the edge of the road was steep, and he felt like he was going down it on stilts. When he got to the bottom of it and the back of the sedan came fully into view, his breath choked in his throat.

  The front of the car was wrapped around an oak tree. Windows were shattered and the whole frame of the sedan was warped. Soft white smoke still drifted out from under what was left of the hood, peacefully fading into the snowfall.

  Through the back window, Noel could see just the very tops of two heads beyond the headrests of the front seats. Neither of them moved. He sank to his knees and the totality of the scene crippled every muscle in his body. The icy cold surrounding him penetrated him to his core. A rolling wave of convulsions rocked his small frame and he opened his mouth and dry-retched. A terrible feeling, more miserable and evil than anything he had ever known, bubbled in his stomach, slowly climbing up his pipes and somehow finding its way to his heart. Tears streamed out of his eyes ceaselessly and he collapsed forward onto his hands and knees.

  A shrill scream pierced the air. Noel's head shot up and his eyes narrowed. The noise scared the daylights out of him. He desperately tried to find the source of it until he finally realized, with his mouth hanging open, that the screams were coming from him.

  Noel shot forward, sitting up in his bed as his mouth closed and he fell quiet. A cold sweat dripped down his face and body, dampening his pajamas. He saw the darkness of his bedroom and the serenity in what little there was to see in the dim light of his nightlight. He looked over at the photo of his mom on the nightstand next to him, and he broke down into tears. His chest rose and fell miserably with each outburst of pain until he fell into a quiet sob.

  The sound of muffled footsteps drifted under his bedroom door and a moment later it opened. Walter stood in the doorway, appearing as a black silhouette in the midst of the hallway's light behind him. There was silence for a long time as the shape just stared, holding the doorknob.

  "Another nightmare, huh?" Walter asked, sauntering into the room. He walked up to the side of Noel's bed and sank casually onto the mattress. Noel recoiled from him, pulling the sheets up to his chin. Walter glanced over at the framed picture of his deceased wife that Noel had looked to for comfort, and sadness etched itself into the lines of his face. "Was it about your mommy again?"

  Noel nodded, his eyes wide and fearful.

  "It's okay, kiddo. I miss her too. It's going to be hard for a while, you remember I told you that?"

  Noel stared at him. His chest fell back into its natural rhythm, and he shivered under the dampness staining his pajamas.

  The nightlight chipped away at the shadows crawling over Walter's form, and he looked alien to Noel. Noel could smell the bad smell on his breath, and he knew his father had been drinking that weird juice tonight.

  "Everything's all right," Walter said. "Just try to get back to sleep, okay?" He reached out and tried to put his hand on the vague shape of Noel's legs underneath the blankets, but Noel shrunk away from him. Walter's face fell. "Do you need me to keep the light on tonight?"

  "No," Noel replied softly. He watched his father's shifting figure suspiciously, like he was afraid to take his eyes off of him.

  The black shape stayed motionless on the edge of his bed for a moment, then it got up and walked out the room, quietly clasping the bedroom door shut behind it.

  Noel wiped the remainder of his tears out of his eyes with the sleeve of his pajama shirt, then he adjusted himself uncomfortably in his bed and pulled the covers over his head. And under the sheets, he saw those haunting red taillights again—beacons of death and loss.

  Deadline

  In the morning, light from the early sun drifted between the thin slits in the blinds and dissolved Noel's nightmares away. He opened his eyes and took the measure of the room. Blinking a few times, he lifted his head off his pillow and turned his gaze to the picture of his mom. She smiled at him in her simple yet elegant cardigan, and the sight of her after such a frightful night made his eyes sting once more with tears.

  He wiped them away and got out of bed, sitting on the edge of it for a moment to collect his thoughts. In the daylight, the horrors that he'd witnessed just hours before seemed like a distant memory.

  Noel stood up and walked to the bathroom. He went pee, and as he washed his hands, he heard peculiar noises downstairs. The sound of boxes hitting the floor echoed up the stairs as Noel reached the banister and stared down to the ground floor. Shuffling feet, then the creak of wood dragging on wood. Curious, Noel descended the stairs.

  When he reached the bottom of them, the footsteps faded away to the other end of the house, then there was silence. Several sealed boxes were sitting near the front door. Some of the furniture was moved around, too. Noel's brow scrunched up as he looked around, trying to make sense of the scene. He walked by the narrow table against the wall near the front door and something caught his eye. He picked up the envelope from the bank and held it in front of him. His reading comprehension was average for a six-year-old, but he knew the word "WARNING" that was written on the front in red letters. He set the letter down and headed through the house.

  "Yeah, absolutely," a voice said from the kitchen. "The movers will be there with the truck at about one, and we should be just ahead of them."

  Noel crept down the hallway, his Paw Patrol pajamas nice and dry this morning. He peeked through the doorway and saw his father standing at the other end of the kitchen, his hand propping himself against the doorway leading to the rec room with the cordless phone in his other hand.

  "Okay, great. We'll see you soon, then." Walter looked at the phone then pre
ssed the Off button. He wheeled around and spotted his son. His eyes widened, startled. "Oh... hey, kiddo. I didn't hear you get up."

  "Why are all those boxes there, Daddy?" Noel asked.

  A strange look washed over Walter's face, like he knew he had to do something he wasn't prepared for. After letting the gears in his head turn for a few moments, he tucked the phone under his arm and clapped his hands together, then approached Noel. He got down on one knee so his eyes were level with his son's.

  "Say, how would you like to go on an adventure?" Walter asked, trying his best to put on a big, flashy smile.

  Noel took a short step back. He didn't say anything or do anything, really, but there was an almost imperceptible shake to his head.

  Walter's smile instantaneously evaporated. "Um... well, we're going to do a little camping for a while," he tried. When he came up against the stone face that he had seen so many times since his car accident with his wife, he didn't know what else to do but push forward. "We're going to go to this nice big cottage for the winter, just the two of us. I think it'll be a lot of fun."

  "We're moving?" Noel asked.

  "Just for a little while, champ. Money's been a little tight lately, so we have to downsize for a bit until Daddy finishes his jingle contracts."

  "But—" Noel started.

  The phone tucked under Walter's arm rang and he held it up and looked at the display. "Shoot, I gotta take this, kiddo." He patted Noel on the shoulder and stood up, then he turned and walked for the rec room. He answered the phone and stared out the patio door at the snowy backyard.

  Noel remained standing at the entrance of the kitchen, looking through the doorway to the rec room at his father. Walter glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, and he moved out of sight and cupped a hand over the microphone when he saw Noel staring at him. Noel backed out of the kitchen, knowing that his dad didn't want him to hear what he was saying. But like any six-year-old boy, he crept around to the dining room and hid behind a side table, wanting to hear what was being said.