“He’s not bringing those things into my house,” Cora stated matter-of-factly.
“Agreed. We can have more fun with them outside. Now, what else can we do?”
“What about blood dripping down the walls?” Luther suggested.
All three women stared at him as though he had sprouted another head. Sarah frowned.
“Ewww.”
“Not in my house,” Cora decreed.
“It wouldn’t be human blood. A pig’s blood, perhaps? I might be able to persuade the town butcher to –”
“Not in my house,” Cora repeated. “Pig blood? Are you demented?”
Luther shrugged. “I’m a soldier. The sight of blood has oftentimes made the most seasoned soldier edgy. I offer it only as a possibility.”
Cora and Sarah adamantly shook their heads. Cora put her hands on her hips at the same time Sarah crossed her arms over her chest.
“Pouring blood down my walls is out of the question.”
“What about something that isn’t blood but looks like blood?” Sarah asked.
Already pale, AnnaBelle began gulping the air as though she had been holding her breath underwater for far too long.
“Are you alright, AnnaBelle?” Cora asked anxiously.
“All this talk about ghosts, and spiders, and blood… I’m just feeling a bit unsettled, that’s all.”
Luther nodded. “Good.”
Cora’s shocked expression mirrored AnnaBelle’s.
“I mean it’s good for our plan,” Luther hastily amended. “It means it will probably work.”
They spent the next hour creating pulleys and stringing rope all throughout the house. A single person, hiding in strategic places throughout the manor, could easily work the ropes to pull weighted sheets from one room to the other. With that task accomplished they found several large wooden buckets and sent Luther outside to begin collecting as many insects as he could.
Sarah shuddered again. He had brought the infernal bucket of bugs inside! Sure, he was just being chivalrous when he had bolted inside after AnnaBelle had screamed. However, as noble as his actions had been, he had brought bugs into the house. You never, ever, EVER bring live insects into a person’s home. Or dead ones, for that matter. Sarah shook her head. The last thing she would ever want is to have a bucket of bugs dumped on her. That was the stuff of nightmares, no doubt about it. The less she saw of those vermin the better.
After cutting holes in several of the sheets, much to Cora’s chagrin, and drawing several contorted facial expressions on some of their larger ghosts, they were ready. Sarah had Cora and AnnaBelle both conceal the ends of the ropes so that each would know where they were hidden should the need to use them arise. Once done, Cora set off to see what she could find that might pass as blood.
“Will these do?” Cora asked nearly thirty minutes later. She was holding up several jars of a thick dark red liquid. “It’s raspberry syrup I made last summer.”
“It’s close enough. Take them to the top of the stairs and conceal them. Take the lids off, too. Chances are if we have to use them we’re going to be in a rush.”
Cora nodded.
Luther returned an hour later and announced he had caught as many insects as he could and couldn’t catch any more since the buckets were so full that many flew/crawled out as soon as he dumped the new ones in.
“Perfect. Let’s hide one of the buckets up that large forked pine tree where the driveway bends to the right. What about the other? Can you think of somewhere else where we could hide it so that we’d get maximum results?”
Luther thought a moment. He slowly nodded.
“I know where I can put it. The hitching post. There’s a large herb bush growing next to it. Cora calls it ‘basil’. I can conceal the bucket behind it.”
“Hitching post? I don’t remember seeing one of those.”
“It’s there,” Luther assured her. “It faces the southern side of the manor.”
“Wonderful. We’d best get going. It’ll be dark soon. You and Cora know what to do.”
An hour later, as the sun set and the darkness crept closer and closer, Sarah was beginning to think that all of their hard work had been for naught. The sheriff was a no-show. No cowboys on horseback, no mobs of people holding lit torches, nothing.
Sarah sighed. Maybe she, like her husband, had watched too many movies. But wasn’t that how it had always worked? The villain, if thwarted, almost always wanted vengeance and therefore returned with a small army. At night. Always at night.
She briefly rose to her knees from her seated position and repositioned the blanket she had been sitting on. Crouching behind the manor’s chimney up on the roof, anxiously awaiting the arrival of people with guns, terrified her. What if someone got hurt? Worse, what if someone was killed? What would happen to Steve if something happened to Luther or Cora? Sarah shuddered.
A grim resolve appeared on her face.
She wasn’t going to let that happen. She had to protect them. She would protect them no matter the cost. Her plan had to work. However, she needed an audience. The success of her plan was contingent on someone experiencing the terrifying show that they had prepared. Someone had to be able to relay what they had seen to others. She needed the townsfolk so afraid of the manor that they wouldn’t ever speak of it, let alone want to visit it.
She sighed. The only thing she could do now was… she hesitated. She was sure someone had just coughed. She held her breath. Was someone nearby? Did they know she was hiding up on the roof? Then she heard several soft whispers. Sarah knew Cora was hiding in an upstairs closet within reach of half a dozen of the ropes. She also knew Luther was outside, presumably hiding until his turn came.
She heard another cough. A single lit torch became visible as someone on horseback rode around the bend in the road. More torches were lit from the one the rider was holding and were passed around. Sarah squinted. She could make out at least a dozen men gathered around the lone rider. Was that the sheriff? Sarah smiled. She hoped so. That power hungry lunatic was going to have a ringside seat to tonight’s performance.
Sarah teleported herself back into the manor and into the room with the closet Cora was hiding in. She softly knocked on the door and peeked inside.
“They’re here,” she whispered. She motioned for Cora to follow her to the window. “Do you think that’s the sheriff? The one on horseback? I can’t tell from here. It’s too dark out.”
Cora joined her by the window. She nodded.
“Yes. I recognize his hat. He likes to wear wide brimmed ten gallon hats wherever he goes. I personally think it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. He must believe it makes him more intimidating. I heard that someone actually told him once that his hats were ridiculous. He shot and killed him, in cold blood. I’ve never met a more ruthless man than he, Sarah. He frightens me.”
“Me, too,” Sarah admitted. “Let’s return the favor, shall we?”
The beginnings of a smile appeared on Cora’s face. She nodded.
Sarah closed her eyes and brought up a mental picture of the tree that Luther had pointed out earlier. Several dead branches had been propped up against the tree’s trunk. Sarah focused on one and ordered her jhorun to push it forward, but only in the middle. The other sections of the branch were to stay put.
The branch snapped in half. In the darkened and quiet countryside the crack sounded like a thunderclap.
Guns were unholstered and rifles were cocked. Nearly two dozen weapons were trained in the direction the noise had come from. The rider pointed at two of the men and then back towards the direction of the tree
“Go check it out.”
The voice was deep, gruff, and meant business. This was a person, Sarah mused, who was used to getting his own way. What was it with small towns like this? Why did there always have to be a bad apple in every bunch?
Two men nodded and disappeared into the trees. No one said anything while they were gone.
Sara
h nodded. So far, so good. She focused her attention on the torches the men were holding and ordered her jhorun to push a gust of air directly at them. She smiled as several of the torches poofed out, much like a burning match would have been extinguished if someone had blown on it.
Several men were now fidgeting from foot to foot as they stared expectantly around at the quiet trees. She was pretty sure she knew what they were thinking: why had their torches gone out? Was there someone out there? Were they being watched?
The men holding the extinguished torches hastily relit them from those that weren’t.
Getting bolder and more accustomed to manipulating air currents with her jhorun, she created a brisk breeze by moving a steady stream of air from one point to the other. She directed it toward the ground. Leaves, twigs, and even a few plants were picked up and thrown up into the air.
“Tell me yur doin’ that,” she heard one man whisper to the other.
“How? I’ve been over here the whole damn time!”
“Keep your voices down!” the sheriff snapped at them. “If you let them know we’re here then I’ll personally skin you alive, is that clear?”
Heads nodded.
“YESSIR!”
“I said keep it down.”
“Yessir!” several men whispered back.
The two men sent to explore surrounding trees returned.
“Well?”
“There ain’t nuthin’ there, boss,” the first man reported.
“Fine. It’s got to be my imagination then. Spread out. I want everyone in position when I give the signal.”
“Why are we burnin’ the place down, boss? It makes no sense.”
The sheriff’s face remained in the shadows but Sarah knew the man wasn’t smiling. Sure enough, the horse was nudged forward until it had intercepted the man foolish enough to question him.
“If I want your opinion I’ll give it to you, you got that?”
Wide eyed with fear, the man nodded.
“I ain’t payin’ you to think. When I tell you to do somethin’, I expect you to do it.”
Properly cowed, the man took off his torn and filthy hat and stared at the ground. “Yessir, boss.”
“Good.”
With her jhorun tingling like mad, Sarah focused on her mental picture of the same tree and snapped two more branches in half, one right after the other.
“What was that, boss?” one man asked.
“Who’s out there?” another blurted out.
The sheriff had turned his horse around and was looking off into the trees as though he had spotted something.
“Somebody’s gotta be out there. You two, go… No, not you two. Step back. You and you. Get up there to… No, I told you two to stay put. You two couldn’t find your ass if I handed you a map. I’m talking to you two. Head out there and check for… look. You two on the right, I want you to… your other right, idiot. I swear to whatever gods exist if someone moves besides you two then I’ll personally shoot a toe clean off your foot. Is that clear? Now, you two move and everyone else stays put.”
No one moved.
“Well? Git!”
Before anyone could take a step two torches leapt out of their owners’ hands and floated several feet up. Then they serenely passed each other and slowly sank back down to present themselves to their new owners. The torches flickered merrily, untouched.
The first man to lose a torch stared, aghast, at the floating torch before him. His companion nudged him on the shoulder.
“Go on, take it.”
“You take it. There ain’t no one holdin’ the blessed thing up!”
“Well, whoever’s got it wants you to take it,” the friend urged.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Ain’t no way in hell I’m touchin’ that thing.”
As if on cue, the torch wiggled and lunged closer to its new owner. The man let out a bellow and backpedalled as fast as he could. He collided with the person behind him and was angrily pushed away.
Doubled over with silent laughter, Sarah extinguished the torch and let it drop to the ground. She did the same for the second torch as that man hadn’t reclaimed his torch, either.
“What the hell was that?” the sheriff inquired. He had been facing the other direction and hadn’t witnessed the torch exchange. “What’s goin’ on over there?”
“What’s goin’ on is I’m clearin’ out!” the owner of the second torch informed him. “There somethin’ not right about this place.”
The sheriff glanced down and saw the two torches lying on the ground.
“You dropped a torch. Big deal.”
“It floated, boss! Torches ain’t s’posed to float!”
“Yeah, right. Just pick it up and be done with it.”
“Hell no.”
Sarah heard the rustle of leather and the unmistakable sound of a gun being drawn. Moments later she heard a gun’s hammer pulled back in the universally recognized sign that something bad was about to happen. The nervous chatter of the men fell silent.
“Pick it up, Earl. Now.”
Unable to resist, Sarah made the torch twitch just as poor Earl finally mustered the courage to grab the handle. He dropped the torch as though he had accidentally grabbed the tail of a rattlesnake. He bellowed loudly and ran into the woods. The rest of the men turned to look up at the sheriff, who was staring at the torch with a puzzled frown on his face.
“Boss? What do we –”
“We stick to the plan. The loss of one man changes nothing. Luther needs to be taught a lesson. No one crosses me. Let tonight be an example.”
Before the sheriff could reholster his prized Colt Peacemaker, the cylinder snapped out and ejected all six bullets.
“Umm, boss?”
“What?”
“You dropped your bullets.”
“Really? Thanks for the bulletin, Merrith. You’re a real barrel of laughs.”
Sarah smiled as she watched the men become more nervous by the minute. Blowing leaves and snapping twigs were enough to make a person jumpy, sure, but Luther was right. Nothing unsettled a person’s nerves faster than seeing something move around on its own accord.
The hats were the next to go. One right after the other the hats were either shoved down over the wearer’s eyes or else blasted upwards as though caught in a strong vertical breeze. Sarah focused her attention on the sheriff. Using her jhorun she lifted the hat from his head and gently placed it on the head of someone who still hadn’t located their own hat yet.
The sheriff scowled, as though losing his hat in such a supernatural manner was a huge inconvenience. The man who ended up with the sheriff’s hat had actually squealed like a pig. His head jerked up and he felt along his brow. The hat, once snatched off his head, was instantly recognized and hesitantly returned to its owner. The sheriff accepted his hat without a word. He scanned the trees, as though he was expecting to see ghosts. Sarah smiled. It was time for the second act.
The trees to the west creaked ominously, but the air was still. The quiet, nervous chatter amongst the men abruptly ceased as a small white object suddenly lifted straight up and careened towards the house. It disappeared into an open window on the second floor. Moments later they heard a loud crash as Cora, who was waiting for the ghost to come sailing through the window, dropped several plates on cue. Outside, many a mouth dropped open as multiple fingers pointed at the manor.
“Did you see that? Did you? What the hell was it?”
“Looked like a ghost t’ me!”
“There’s no such things as ghosts,” one voice squeaked out in a high pitched poice.
“There ain’t? Didn’t you just see the same thing we did? This place has ghosts. One just flew into the house! I heard the crash! I’ll betcha they done took care of whoever’s in there. One thing’s for certain. I ain’t goin’ in there!”
“You’ll go in there or else I’ll put a bullet between your eyes!” the sheriff snarled at them. His right hand rested on the handle of hi
s gun.
Another ghost rose up. Then another. And another. Suddenly the air was filled with white objects rising up from where they had been concealed on the ground. After floating silently in the air for a few moments they all raced towards the manor and disappeared through the same window.
More crashes ensued. From the sounds of it Cora had just smashed every single dish she owned.
“Now don’t you feel stupid?” the one man asked the other. “You say there ain’t ghosts but we both just saw the same damn thing. Listen to them in there! This place must be riddled with spooks!”
Sarah held her breath and hoped Luther was ready. She had just guided the last of the makeshift spirits into the window Cora had opened for this purpose. It was time for Luther to utilize one of his buckets. She strained her eyes to see if she could see him concealed in the large pine tree next to the dirt driveway. She couldn’t. It was too dark. Fortunately, what she could see was that at least half of the men were standing under the tree’s canopy. Hopefully Luther was ready.
Almost immediately after the last crash sounded Sarah heard bloodcurdling screams. They were loud and high pitched, as though whoever was doing the screaming was having the worst day of his life. Five men had dropped their torches – which she extinguished before they ended up starting a forest fire – and began doing the fastest striptease she had ever seen before in her life. She had to turn away once it became clear that the men intended to shed every scrap of clothing that they were wearing. Even the sheriff had taken his hat off and was waving it through the air as a swarm of crickets, butterflies, beetles and a myriad of other flying insects swarmed around his head and everyone elses.
“They done got in muh private parts!” one man hollered as he yanked his thermal underear down to his ankles. “Someone get ‘em off me!”
Four hairy nude men turned tail and sprinted back down the gravel driveway and disappeared into the darkness. Not once did they look back to see what the sheriff thought about the matter. The fifth man, with his pants still around his ankles, tried futilely to extricate his legs from his trousers while wearing his boots. He practically hopped after his companions, desperate not to be left behind.
A Portal for Your Thoughts Page 20
