As she walked, she felt cool breezes chill her skin as if she’d walked into a refrigerator and out again. She stopped walking twice, thinking she heard whispering. Brenda was positive she heard someone say, “she’s here.” She looked around, but there was no one is sight.
The fire pit was still there just as Brenda remembered it as a young girl. Some of the rocks had fallen free from the wall and were lying next to the pit. The grate her and grandmother had cooked many meals on had fallen inside the stone structure and was mostly buried by charred wood and seasonal leaves. A loud bump seemed to come from the opposite side of the pit from where she was standing.
Her skin crawled as she slowly walked to the side the sound came from. A large stone had come loose from the wall and was sitting on the dirt. Thinking to herself she should just get in her car and leave; she couldn’t do it.
She knelt next to the opening in the wall from where the stone had been dislodged. She couldn’t see anything in the hole.
‘Go ahead, reach in.’
She whipped her head around expecting someone to be standing behind her; but there was no one. Her heart was racing.
‘Reach in and take it. She wanted you to have it.’
“Who wanted me to have it? Where are you; show yourself,” Brenda demanded.
It got quiet again, the coolness was gone, and the stickiness returned to the air. Brenda slowly reached into the hole.
“I’m probably going to get bit by a poisonous spider and die out here,” she thought, reaching deeper into the hole.
At the very bottom of the hole, her fingers grasped onto a book. She pulled it out into the sunlight and saw that it was another one of her grandmother’s journals. She flipped through it and saw the final entry had been made right before she died or close to as no one really knew the exact date she passed.
Brenda took the book to her car. She placed the journal in her purse with the other ones and locked and alarmed the car.
The outhouse was still standing at the back of the house. As she tugged open the door, a squirrel jumped out of the darkness at her and almost gave her a heart attack. He had claimed the space as his own and built a huge nest on the rotting wood next to the toilet seat opening.
“Damn squirrel,” she muttered, closing the door.
Walking to the water’s edge, she so badly wanted to stick her hand into the pond and spread some of its cool water on her face.
‘Go ahead; we won’t harm you. Your grandmother said you would return to help us.’
“All right. This isn’t funny anymore,” Brenda yelled, scanning the property around her.
Silence.
“If you’re living in the cabin, that’s fine. I’m not going to stay here so you can continue to use the place as your home,” she yelled into the woods. “Just come out and show yourself.”
Silence again.
Brenda reached into the water. It felt cool and inviting. Leaving her hand dangling in the water, she looked out over Valentine Pond. It was just as she remembered it many years ago. Maybe there were a few more stumps and dead trees sticking up out of the water, but it hadn’t really changed at all in sixteen years.
She rubbed some of the cool water over her face; it was refreshing. She returned her hand to the water for a second scoopful. She felt it; a hand was holding onto her wrist. It was the same kind of feeling she’d experienced when she swam in the pond years ago and the hands held her legs. It wasn’t fish, she knew that now. She yanked her hand out of the water and fell backwards, landing on her ass. She sat there, staring at the water trying to see something; anything, but there was just water.
“Pull yourself together, Brenda. You’re letting two old lady’s ramblings get to you. Get up off your ass and go in and find the diaries,” she said out loud.
She got up, took a deep breath and walked to the cabin door. Brenda reached for the doorknob, but the door swung open by itself. She froze. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts. She knew she should get in the car, leave and never come back, but her feet wouldn’t move the way her brain was telling them to.
‘Go to into the cabin; I hid my diaries there’.
It was her grandmother’s voice, she was sure of it. But, she was dead.
‘Turn around...this is who you must help.’
Brenda didn’t want to turn, but her grandmother’s will was stronger than her own. She watched in stark terror as figures rose up out of the pond and walked on top of the water towards shore; her grandmother leading the way. Blurry white figures, short in stature, with their hands held out in front of them as if asking Brenda to take hold and help them, were advancing her way.
She felt death all around her. It was choking her. Something bad happened here; not once, but many times over. The sun was shining, and it was ninety degrees, but Brenda was covered in goose bumps. The air surrounding her body was cold and she felt like she was standing in a walk-in freezer. She could see her breath as she released short little gasps of fear.
‘Help us...in many different voices filled her ears. She covered her ears and tried to block out the voices, but couldn’t.’
It was then her brain and her feet started to work together again. She ran down off the porch, and put her key in the door lock forgetting she’d set the alarm. The shrill sound echoed in the woods around her. She hit the button on her key and the noise stopped. Jumping in the car, she locked all the doors and tried to catch her breath.
She looked out at the pond and they were gone. There wasn’t a single ripple on the surface of the water where they had just been. Was she losing her mind? She felt her arm; it was ice cold. No, she hadn’t imagined it, it really happened.
Brenda decided she’d had enough for one day. She started the engine and drove towards the cabin to turn the car around. As she put the car in reverse, she watched the door to the cabin close on its own.
‘See you tomorrow, my dear sweet Brenda. You can help us, I know you are strong enough.’
She hit the gas so hard she almost backed her car into the pond, stopping just as the rear tires hit the water. Fearful they would drag her and her car in, she shifted into drive and tore up the dirt road away from the cabin. Brenda ran over brush, roots and anything else that got in her way. She only slowed down when she hit the main road back to Little Tree.
Back at the bed and breakfast, she raced up the stairs to the safety of her room. Mrs. Evans had seen her fly by the front desk and ran up the stairs after her.
“Brenda, are you okay?” the elderly woman asked, knocking on the door. “Brenda?”
She opened the door, her hands still trembling.
“You saw them, didn’t you?” she asked Brenda quietly.
“The screamers are real. I saw them; they came out of the pond,” she stammered.
“I’m truly surprised they came out during the day,” Mrs. Evans said, gently backing Brenda up and closing the door so no one else would hear their conversation.
“My grandmother was with them,” she mumbled.
“I figured Flora would stick around to see things through,” Mrs. Evans replied. “Did you find the diaries?”
“I found two in one of the safety deposit boxes at the bank,” holding up the three books.
“And the third?”
“Someone, or something, knocked a large stone out of the firepit wall and told me to look into the opening,” Brenda answered. “The book was in the hole.”
“I bet it was your grandmother,” Mrs. Evans stated.
“Why are these journals so important?” Brenda asked, sitting on the window seat.
“Somewhere in those journals is the Valentine Killer’s name. And until he’s brought to justice, the screamers will continue to kill any males who wander into the pond area. It’s like they’re stuck there searching for the man who killed them and until he is found, they can’t move on,” she answered.
“Do you think my grandmother knew who the killer was?”
“She once said to me her daug
hter was the product of the devil. I believe the night she and Tommy went to the pond, he wanted more than Flora wanted to give him. He got mad, drove away and your grandmother was left there alone. I think the Valentine Killer came out of the woods and raped your grandmother and was in the process of drowning her when Tommy returned looking for her.”
“My grandmother hated my mother. I wonder if that was why,” Brenda pondered.
“I think Tommy found Flora in the water, alive, but the screamers came out of the water and dragged him away. I personally think that that was the first night Flora ever saw the screamers. She was never the same after that night,” Mrs. Evans stated, sitting down next to Brenda. “One night, before she stopped talking to me all together, I asked her if that was what happened. She would never come right out and tell me, but she didn’t deny it either.”
A faint glow materialized in the far corner of the room. It grew to a full-size figure as the stunned women watched from the window seat. The white mist floated towards them. The elderly woman grabbed for Brenda’s hand and wouldn’t let go.
‘Hello, Margie, my dearest friend.’
“Flora?”
‘Yes, it’s me. Hello again, Brenda. You still have my diaries?’
“I can hear your words, but I don’t see you speaking, Flora,” Mrs. Evans stated.
‘I can’t stay long. Read my diaries and go to the state police for help.”
“I know Gary Holmes is an idiot, but can’t he help us?” the inn keeper asked.
‘NO! DO NOT trust him! You will read why. He knows...and he hides everything.
“Flora, I missed you,” Mrs. Evans said. “I wanted to help you, but you wouldn’t let me.”
‘I didn’t want you to get hurt. Your mother had already lost your sister, she couldn’t lose you, too. Stella sends her love and wants me to tell you she’s sorry she didn’t listen to you the night of the party and stay home. She wants you to stop blaming yourself for her disappearance.’
“Tell Stella that I love her,” Mrs. Evan sobbed.
‘I have to go. Someone is at the cabin that doesn’t belong there. Read and learn.’
The ghost grew smaller and smaller until it was totally gone. The coldness in the room left with it. The two women sat in silence taking in everything that they had just witnessed.
“I knew my sister was one of the screamers. I could feel it,” Mrs. Evans finally said, breaking the silence.
“I’ve only found three of her diaries. There’s a large gap in between the first two and the last one,” Brenda stated. “I have to go back to the cabin and find the other diaries.”
“Not tonight,” Mrs. Evans insisted. “How about I make us some supper and we read the diaries together? Two sets of eyes will read quicker and maybe you won’t have to go back there if we find what we need in the ones you’ve found.”
“Sounds good to me,” Brenda agreed. “I missed lunch. I’m going to shower and then I’ll be down to help you.”
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” the elderly woman agreed.
Chapter 5
At four-thirty, both women were sitting in the dining room table eating a nice steak and baked potato dinner. Each had a diary at the side of their plate, reading while they were eating.
Occasionally, they would stop eating and read an interesting passage out loud which needed to be discussed. Brenda had the first diary and Mrs. Evans, the second.
“Listen to this,” Brenda said, excitedly. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot to think the sheriff would help me. He’s going to protect his son no matter what. I can’t make anyone understand they are hiding behind the office he holds.”
“Protect his son from what?” Mrs. Evans wondered.
“I don’t know, but I’ll keep reading.”
They were so engrossed in their reading they didn’t see the sheriff had entered the dining room and was watching them. When Brenda finally looked up and saw the sheriff standing there, she closed her diary, grabbed the one Mrs. Evans was reading and put them both under her leg.
“Can I help you with something, sheriff?” Mrs. Evans said.
“Nope. I just came to see if Miss Hills knows when she’ll be leaving now her meeting with the attorney is done.”
“I can’t see where it is any of your business. I’ll leave when I see fit and not until,” Brenda insisted. “Is there anything else?”
“I’m just letting you know if something happens to you, I won’t be held responsible as I warned you about staying here and the consequences,” he informed her.
“And just what is going to happen to my guest?” Mrs. Evans said, standing up.
“I don’t know; I’m just saying,” he insisted.
“Sheriff, it’s time for you to leave. You’re disturbing our supper and I consider it quite rude. If there’s nothing else, show yourself out the front door,” Mrs. Evans demanded, walking towards him.
“I’m going, but don’t take my warning lightly,” he admonished.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re threatening my guest.”
“Don’t get involved in this, Margie; you have to live here,” he warned.
“Get out! Get out and don’t come back,” she demanded.
“You’ll be sorry you sided with that one,” he yelled, going out the door.
Mrs. Evans returned to the table after making sure the front door was locked.
“Did you see the fear on his face? He was staring at my grandmother’s diaries,” Brenda stated.
“We have to find somewhere special to hide these tonight. I don’t have a safe on the premises,” she commented. “And I’ve a sneaky feeling our friend, the sheriff, will be back to get them.”
“Just before he so rudely interrupted our meal, I found something you have to hear,” Brenda said, taking the two books out from under her legs. “Let me find it again.”
She flipped through the diary until she came to the page where she left off reading.
“My body is starting to show the evidence of that dreadful night. God, how I hate this evil thing growing inside me. Every time it moves, I relive staring into the face of the Valentine Killer while he ravaged my body. If Tommy hadn’t come back when he did, I would surely have been dead at the hands of Gary Holmes. Sometimes, I wish he’d succeeded in my demise.”
“Gary Holmes is the Valentine Killer? That would mean he started killing when he was only sixteen years old. It’s no wonder the killer was never found. As Flora said, the father covered it up and his son continued to kill. That’s why she insisted we had to go to the state police and not the sheriff.”
“I wonder why he suddenly stopped?” Brenda puzzled.
“Let’s keep reading. Maybe Flora will tell us why.”
Silence overtook the room as the two women kept reading.
“I think I know why he stopped,” Mrs. Evans claimed. “Gary Holmes witnessed his father being dragged into the water by the screamers. Valentine Pond was his killing grounds; it’s why he was dubbed the Valentine Killer. He couldn’t go back after that, so the killings stopped.”
“I thought he got the name because he killed on Valentine’s Day,” Brenda commented.
“No, the girls disappeared at all different times of the year. I never understood why the killer didn’t go back and finish what he started with your grandmother. Why didn’t he go back and kill her? Why would he leave a witness alive?”
“Maybe, the screamers protected her,” Brenda suggested.
“Listen to this... Sheriff Holmes is here looking for Gary. I heard a girl screaming off in the distance. We both ran through the woods, yelling Gary’s name, trying to help the doomed girl. We found her floating, facedown, in the water, dead. Gary was nowhere. As the sheriff stepped knee deep into the water to bring the victim’s body onto dry land, I saw them. They were coming for the wrong person. Sheriff Holmes let out a yell. Something had grabbed his legs and dragged him under. He came up sputtering, screaming for help. Gary came
out from the woods and watched as the screamers dragged his father out to the middle of the pond. He went under and never came up again. That night, Angie, the girl in the white dress came to me. She said he knew and did nothing to stop the killings. He did nothing to bring peace to the families that were left behind. He had to be punished for his son’s wrong doings.”
“Well, it certainly explains the sheriff’s sudden disappearance. And Gary saw it happen, but he couldn’t tell anyone because they would want to know why he was out there in the first place,” Brenda stated. “And, besides, who would believe him?”
“So, he did the next best thing. He told everyone in town his dad went out to see Flora and he never returned from the visit.”
“And because of my grandmother’s reputation, people assumed she killed the sheriff and disposed of him,” Brenda finished.
“We need to bring these diaries to the state police. They might think we’re crazy, but we have to do it,” Mrs. Evans stated. “Maybe then, they will dredge the pond and the screamers bodies will be found and they can find some peace.”
“I’m going back to the cabin tomorrow and actually go inside. Maybe the diaries my grandmother wrote in between these two will fill in more information and give some of the girl’s names the Valentine Killer disposed of in the pond,” Brenda said, holding up diary number two and three.
“You have to extra careful now the sheriff knows you found Flora’s books. I bet he’s been looking for them ever since she died.”
“I will. Besides, after what they did to his father, I doubt he’d go near the place,” Brenda replied.
“Desperation breeds stupidity; and Gary is pretty desperate right now.”
“I’m going to hide the books up in my room. I won’t tell you where just in case he comes back. And then, you can truly say you don’t know where they are,” Brenda said, standing up and taking her dish to the kitchen. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Goodnight.”
Brenda retired to her room and Mrs. Evans started to wash up the few dished that were in the sink. Catching a flash of light out the window, she saw the sheriff standing in her back yard. He took out his gun and waved it in her direction. She left the rest of the dishes undone, double checked all the locks on the first-floor doors and went to her second-floor bedroom to hide.
Love from the Other Side Page 12
