“Back in the eighteen hundreds, there was a young witch who lived in these mountains. In fact …” Ted paused and looked around. “What remains of her cabin isn’t too far from here.”
Megan gave a little moan, as if the long–dead woman would suddenly appear right behind her.
“The townspeople were all scared of her, but since she kept to herself mostly, they left her alone. Then one day—”
“Does this witch have a name? And why were they scared of her?” Becca fired off the questions as Megan glanced uneasily over Johnny’s shoulder.
“Shh,” Liz said with annoyance.
“The legend warns against speaking her name.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Shane added.
“Why not?” The fearful question came from Megan.
“She practiced black magic,” Ted explained. “They say if you speak her name it could awaken her spirit.”
The fire popped, throwing a shower of sparks skyward. Becca noticed Megan and Liz both jerk in reaction, as if the witch had sent a sign.
She didn’t believe there was an ounce of truth to the story. “You guys probably don’t even know it.”
Ted met her gaze with a solemn nod.
“Are you chicken?” she challenged him and Shane. Now she was starting to have fun.
“Some things are better left unspoken,” Shane warned.
“Just tell us.”
Despite Liz’s urging, Ted hesitated. Becca guessed it was part of their presentation.
“Her name is …”
“Don’t say it,” Shane breathed, closing his eyes. “Please don’t say—”
“Alianna.”
A burst of rustling leaves preceded a loud clatter in the forest behind them. Megan let out an ear–piercing scream. Liz swore, hand pressed to her chest, and even Becca jumped—even though she’d spotted Johnny’s rock toss into the woods. She might not believe in ghosts, but Shane’s solemn “Please don’t say—” had left her oddly apprehensive.
Ted capitalized on the heightened tension. “Many nights, strange lights appeared over the mountain where the witch lived, and on days after a full moon ... animals were found in the surrounding woods ... their organs ripped out, all the blood drained from their bodies.”
“For rituals?” Liz wondered in an enthralled whisper. “Or do you think she drank it? Like a vampire.”
Megan’s hand covered her mouth. “Ew, gross.”
Becca agreed.
“No one ever knew,” Ted answered Liz. “She was very beautiful ... long hair the color of fire, green eyes like sparkling emeralds, and a body to rival the goddess Aphrodite …”
Becca twirled her long ponytail around her finger, mesmerized by the disturbing shadows from the diminishing campfire flames cast upon Ted’s classic features. She had to give him kudos for his master storyteller abilities. He pitched his deep, expressive voice at exactly the perfect level to keep the girls spellbound and hanging on every well–chosen word. Even she found herself holding her breath as she waited for him to continue—until she realized his attention had zeroed in on her.
“What?”
He gave her a slow sexy smile that she recalled seeing more than once the night of the social when they’d first met. “I imagine she looked somewhat like you.”
Becca straightened with a jerk and lowered her hand to her lap. Liz frowned, her dark curls bouncing about her shoulders as she swung her attention from Ted to Becca. Hoping to deflect the spotlight, Becca took a swig of Cherry Pie before passing the bottle off to Liz with a forced smile.
“I thought this was a ghost story, not a joke,” she said to Ted.
“I’m serious.”
Knowing if Liz didn’t get her man there’d be hell to pay, Becca rolled her eyes in an exaggerated show of disbelief. “Just tell the story.”
Shane’s gaze also shifted between Becca and Ted and back again. She liked his quiet, laid–back manner and didn’t want him to think she had any interest in the fickle Ted, so she gave him a smile. Only Ted seemed to think it was for him because he tossed her a wink.
Liz leveled a warning glare in her direction as she switched from their log to Ted’s. She nearly plunked down on Shane’s lap, but he scooted sideways and then moved to the spot Liz had just vacated. As he settled beside Becca, she tried not to read too much into the move, and yet her heart rate increased to the point where she felt slightly lightheaded. Instinct drew her to him on a basic level she didn’t quite understand.
“Come on, I want to hear the rest,” Liz prompted the handsome football player, hanging on his arm and giving him a birds–eye view of her straining cleavage. “What happened to the evil, red–haired she–who–should–not–be named witch who practiced black voodoo magic?”
“Um…” Ted lifted his gaze from her breasts with obvious effort. “Well, okay, I should probably back up a bit. She didn’t grow up that way, just so you know. In fact she even had a friend in town, a girl her age by the name of Elizabeth Martin. The two of them used to play for hours, and as they got older, they dabbled in magic spells. Just kid stuff, but when they were about twelve, Elizabeth’s parents found out what they were doing and immediately sent her out East to a finishing school with her aunt. They turned her against Ali—”
“Don’t say her name!” Megan exclaimed.
“It’s just a name,” Liz scoffed. “I don’t care if he says it.”
“Well I do.”
Ted surveyed the group one by one. After a quick grin for Johnny over the frightened blond’s head, he continued. “The Martins turned their daughter against… the witch, and convinced the townspeople she was a danger to them and their children.”
Liz rolled her eyes at his choice to avoid the name, while Megan still clung to her protector’s arms.
“Even her parents were shunned. Not long after, strange incandescent lights above the mountain began to appear each night and Elizabeth’s parents fostered a growing fear of the unknown. Shortly after she turned sixteen, she started coming to town alone, just a couple times a year for supplies, and no one ever saw her parents again. One rumor said they’d died that winter during an outbreak of influenza, but most believed she sacrificed them in a ritual. Bodies or graves were never found.”
“No one ever asked?” Becca wondered.
“The Martins had convinced everyone the beautiful redhead was evil incarnate and the townspeople were too afraid to question her. Many times they left her items outside the storefront door and she simply replaced them with coins and a list of what she’d require on her next visit.
“At age eighteen, on one such trip down the mountain, she was nearly run over by a supply wagon, only a man dashed in front of the horses and saved her. Literally swept her off her feet. They formed an instant connection and since James Statham was new to town, he got to know her before anyone could sway his mind with unsubstantiated rumors.”
“It sounds as if you favor the witch.” Liz’s statement, delivered with a frown, almost sounded like an accusation.
At this point, Becca was surprised to find she favored the witch. It sounded like she’d been the victim of close–minded people who didn’t like anyone different than them. Not that she believed in magic any more than she believed in ghosts; the girls had most likely just been playing around. Then again, it was all in the interpretation and how Ted spun the tale, so her beliefs didn’t really matter either way.
Ted shrugged. “The two became very close over that summer and the more often she came into town, the more people began to like her. She even made a few new friends and confided her hope for a proposal by summer’s end.”
Megan had relaxed with the introduction of romance and now she leaned forward. “Did they get married?”
“Not before Elizabeth returned home. She’d grown into her own beauty but whereas her former friend was fiery and delicate, she was dark–haired and statuesque.”
Becca’s gaze strayed to Liz’s silky, ebony curls, but the moment the
other girl shifted her blue gaze across the fire, Becca averted her attention.
“Oh no—did she steal James away from, um, well, you–know–who?”
“Megan, you can say her name,” Becca assured her. The blond gave a fierce shake of her head.
“As Elizabeth saw it, James had been stolen from her,” Ted corrected. “See, he’d originally come from Boston to ask for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage, only he met the witch first and never approached the Martins. When Elizabeth’s mother happened to mention the relationship in a letter, Elizabeth came straight home to claim her man.”
Becca unsuccessfully fought a laugh. “I’m sorry, but now it just sounds like you’re summing up an old historical Harlequin novel.”
This time Megan, Shane and Liz shushed her.
More alcohol. Definitely need more alcohol.
She decided drunk wasn’t so bad and motioned to Liz to pass the bottle. Shane leaned closer as she took a drink.
“Pay attention,” he cautioned.
“It’s an old story,” Ted defended. “I’m not making it up, I’m just telling it the way I heard it.”
Sure, she thought, smiling for him to continue while lowering the bottle. Megan wiggled her fingers and after Shane refused Becca’s offer yet again, she reached across the fire to hand the Cherry Pie to the blond. Megan guzzled more than a few shots worth before Liz leaned over Ted’s lap and swiped the drink from her hand.
“Let’s get back to the story—and Becca, quit ruining it.”
“Sorry.” She lifted her hands in surrender and then sat back, palms pressed together and tucked between her thighs. “So Elizabeth shows up and ... ?”
“She let everyone know that James was hers and she didn’t intend to let anyone else have him.”
“Good for her,” Liz said.
“Wasn’t she scared of the witch?” Megan asked in surprise.
“Apparently not. On a night her parents were out, Elizabeth invited James to dinner, seduced him, and then made sure her parents found them in a compromising position upon their return. Her father forced them to marry in a shotgun wedding and James’ true love was left alone on the mountain.”
Becca thought Ted was going a bit far by continuing to avoid her name, but silently conceded the ploy added an ominous tone.
“That’s awful,” Megan said.
Liz flipped her hair back over her shoulder with a sniff. “All’s fair in love and war.”
“The story’s not over,” Ted advised with a squeeze to her knee. “Life moved on—at first. But one week after the wedding ... on the night of the first full moon …”
“This is where it finally gets good.”
Surprised by the declaration, Becca commented, “You said you never heard the story before.”
Liz’s gaze caught hers across the campsite. “I’m guessing.”
Her eyes reflected the dwindling flames, giving her expression an eerie intensity. Becca didn’t say anything more, and everyone else also remained silent.
Firelight gave way to glowing embers and wisps of mist had begun to creep along the ground beneath the tree branches. Megan hugged Johnny tighter. When yet another shiver climbed up her spine, Becca tugged the edges of her zip–up hoodie tight across her middle. She wouldn’t have minded Shane’s arm around her, but she wasn’t confident enough to initiate the contact. Maybe with another drink? That thought inspired another question—why didn’t he drink?
As if sensing her thoughts, he gave her a gentle smile. The essence of him seemed to reach out to her, drawing her closer, warming her without a single touch.
“The lights over the mountain were spectacular that night,” Ted continued. “But then the next morning, Elizabeth’s ripped, bloody nightgown was found snagged on a log sticking out of the river where the currents run the deepest.”
“Still waters …” Johnny added.
Megan gasped. “The witch killed her? Elizabeth is the Ghost of Still Waters?”
The sound of the rapids roared in Becca’s ears, suddenly magnified. One of the logs on the fire shifted and fell, sending sparks outside the ring of stones. She jerked her legs up and nearly bumped into Shane. With a murmured apology, she settled back in her spot.
Ted ignored Megan’s questions. “A thorough search was conducted, but James and Elizabeth were nowhere to be found. Both of them had vanished. Urged on by the angry Martins, the people of the town went on a witch hunt. Literally. They captured her at dusk, bound her hands, and dragged her to the spot where Elizabeth’s gown had been found. Despite her claims of innocence and efforts to free herself, five men forced her into the river and held her down until she took her last breath.”
Becca forgot she didn’t believe a word of the story. “Alianna’s the ghost.”
Shane and Ted confirmed her guess with a joint, “Yes.”
“Sounds to me like she got what she deserved,” Liz declared.
Chest tight, filled with a sorrow she couldn’t explain, Becca bit back a nasty retort. And yet, something about the tale didn’t sit right.
“The town thought they’d done the right thing, too,” Ted continued. “Until three weeks later … ”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“What?” Megan demanded. “What happened three weeks later?”
“Elizabeth and James returned home safe and sound.”
“What?” Indignation stiffened Becca’s spine. Megan lurched forward to stare at their narrator.
“Yep, that’s right. They’d taken an impromptu honeymoon without telling anyone.”
Indignation flared into anger as Becca thought of Ted and the bet he’d made with his frat buddies. “If James could switch from one to the other so easily, then I say Alianna would’ve been better off without him. Poor girl.”
“You said her name!” Megan accused.
Becca leaned forward toward the glowing embers in the fire pit. “Alianna. Alianna. A–li–an–na.”
Megan clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t!”
“Oh, please, as if my chanting her name a few times will summon her spirit.”
“Don’t discount the story so quickly,” Shane cautioned, his tone dead serious.
“You really don’t believe in ghosts?”
Reining in her annoyance, Becca answered Liz’s question. “No, I don’t believe in ghosts. Seriously—how many of you played Bloody Mary growing up? Did anyone ever see her in the mirror? I can’t believe I’m the only one who thinks that whole beautiful evil witch thing seems a little … ” she waved her hands as she searched for the word she wanted “ ... clichéd. It’s just a story—and not even a good one at that.”
“I swear I didn’t make it up,” Ted insisted, looking insulted at her skepticism.
“The danger lies in not believing.”
Shane spoke so softly beside her, Becca didn’t think anyone else heard him, but Megan shot to her feet as if poked by a hot iron.
“Well, I believe the story, and I’m not sleeping alone tonight.”
“I’ll protect you,” Johnny offered without missing a beat.
“My tent’s over this way. Come on, let’s go.” Megan grabbed his arm, pulling him up off the log seat. She wobbled a bit, he steadied her, and then they weaved their way to the far tent. Johnny gave a spooky howl and Megan shrieked, then laughed when he caught her around the waist.
Liz leaned against Ted, full breasts brushing against his muscled arm. “Looks like I need a place to sleep if Johnny’s taking my sleeping bag.”
Ted glanced toward Becca and Shane, but if she offered space in her tent, Liz would make sure she lost her spot in the sorority for sure. So Becca kept her lips zipped.
“You know they won’t really be sleeping in there, right?”
Becca’s face heated at Ted’s words. A loud giggle drew their attention in time to see Megan’s shirt sail over Johnny’s head.
Liz stood, stretched her arms high over her head, and grinned like the ca
t that caught the canary. “Neither will we.”
Ted was erect quicker than his two–man pop–up. “Mi casa es su casa. Lead the way, baby.”
“You’ll take care of the fire, right Bec?” Liz asked over her shoulder as she pulled Ted after her. “Get some water from the river to put it out?”
“Yeah, sure, we got it,” Becca replied, assuming Shane would help.
Liz gave her a strange look, then Ted pointed to her right.
“There’s a bucket with water right over there. Stay away from the river in the dark.”
Feeling more than a little self–conscious and completely virginal, Becca kept her gaze locked on the fire as the two tumbled inside and the flap of Ted’s tent was zipped shut.
Becca retrieved the bucket of water, wanting to be in her tent when the giggles and murmurs from the other two gave way to groans of pleasure. She’d experienced that by day three as a freshman in the dorms.
She met Shane’s shadowed gaze, quickly said, “You’re welcome to bunk in my tent now that Liz has taken your spot,” and dumped the water on the coals.
The glowing embers went dark, spitting and hissing as the water hit the heat and turned to steam. The heated vapors rose into the moonless night to mingle with the encroaching mist from the forest. A strange ethereal light emanated from the billowing steam. The swirling haze began to look like long strands of hair flowing around a gaunt face with dark, empty eye sockets.
“The Ghost of Still Waters.”
Ted’s dramatic story voice echoed in her mind and her heart slammed into her throat.
“Are you afraid to be alone?”
Shane’s voice cut through the spike of adrenaline. Becca blinked. The haunting vision vanished. So did the light. In the darkness, she wondered if she’d imagined them both. Silently repeating Shane’s question, she grounded herself in reality.
Tales From The Mist: An Anthology of Horror and Paranormal Stories Page 23
