by Trinity Crow
Copyright
Copyright 2020 by Trinity Crow.
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Copyright © 2020 Trinity Crow
All rights reserved.
Published by Black Feather Press
A paranormal suspense story. . .
Rickrack House
Haunted House Raffle Series
Book One
by
Trinity Crow
Published by Black Feather Press
Dedication
To miracles, freaky occurances, inexplicable events
and things that go bump in the night,
and to those who believe.
and to A.W.
Para bailar, Mami.
Prologue
The printed notice flapped against the telephone post, the colorful paper tugging against the staples. In the hot, still air of the early Texas summer, the sound seemed louder than it was.
Rrrripp, rrrripp.
Not even the lack of wind deterred the insistent flyer as it fought its way loose. A final tug and some unseen hand pulled the paper free. It cartwheeled down the sidewalk, drifted past the old courthouse and across the street to Hannabelle's Ice Cream Shoppe where it plastered itself to the leg of a bright-eyed girl sitting at a table, enjoying a butter pecan cone. Without a pause in her rapid chatter, she reached down to pull it free. Her gaze fastened immediately on the large print, ignoring the strange girl walking past, hunched over with her shawl wrapped around her head though the sun was blazing hot.
The words caught the her eye like a fishhook and tugged firmly at her curiosity.
"Hey, look at this!"
Her blonde friend leaned back from the waving paper with a grimace of disgust on her perfectly made-up face.
"It's a house raffle," the lucky recipient said enthusiastically. She had not even read it through as began texting her brother that she really, really wanted to go. "Something like this," she said with a determined look in those shining eyes, "it could change your life. . ." Her eyes drifted back to the bold, cheerful print.
WELCOME TO SPICEWOOD, THE LITTLE TOWN WITH BIG POTENTIAL!
FIRST ANNUAL HOUSE RAFFLE !
HOUSES FROM $100 TO $1 A TICKET
CONSIDER MAKING YOUR FUTURE WITH US TODAY!
(One house per buyer, terms and conditions apply**)
**Property is sold in "as is" condition, including without limitation to any paranormal occurrences, past history or inhabitants, hazardous materials, contamination or geologic conditions
Buyer agrees to reside at property within thirty (30) days of closing date and live in residence for a full calendar year as part of terms and conditions for purchasing said property.
The city of Spicewood agrees to deposit the amount of five thousand ($5000)US dollars into an account towards the development and restoration of the property. Should the buyer fail to fulfill the residential requirements, all monies, materials and property shall revert to the city.
Far away in another, small, Texas town, a pink-haired girl, pierced by both life and metal studs, waited at a bus stop. In a nearby shop window, a raffle flyer pulled relentlessly at the tape holding it prisoner. At the sound of bus exhaust in the distance, the jerking became more and more frantic until the paper flapped rapidly without ceasing. Ripping itself free, the notice, whose jagged font proclaimed HAUNTED HOUSE RAFFLE! ONE BUCK, ONE LUCKY WINNER!, floated to the ground and slid surreptitiously in her direction, intent on changing another life, ready or not . . .
Chapter 1
Being on your own is only terrifying if you haven't lived with evil itself.
This was the thought I told myself over and over as I stared out the window of my cheap motel room. But as the days had slipped by and my small stash of money dwindled, the words had began to lose their power.
Outside in the morning sun, the world lay quiet and peaceful, yet fear filled every minute I was out there. Fear I would be found and dragged back to hell. Fear I would end up like those lost souls I saw in doorways and on park benches. The look in their eyes disturbed me more than the smell or their shabby clothes.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled opened the door and stared out into the parking lot.
"You can do this, Abigail Lorraine Jones," I told myself bracingly. "You have already been through much worse."
So easy to say the words, so much harder to believe them. All those years, I had been trained to listen quietly and obey. Now, if I was to survive, I had to break free of that and think for myself.
Another quick gulp of air and I forced myself to go out. Shivering, I tucked my shawl closer around me. It should have left behind or thrown it away. But it wasn't just a link to a life I hated, it was security, a retreat when I was overwhelmed. After escaping from the Fellowship, finding a job and a place to live should have been easy. But if that were true, why was just leaving the room such a scary and lonely thing to do?
I stepped out of the motel room and locked the door behind me, nerves on edge. The bag on my shoulder held everything I owned and the money in my pocket was barely enough to pay for another week at this rundown place. Last night, I had resolved to pay it this morning, but now, the thought of being flat broke made a deeper fear swell inside me.
Where will I go? What will I do? What will happened to me?
I sighed as I forced my feet to turn in the direction of the motel office. Cheaper to pay by the week, I reminded myself. Waiting would only mean one less day of shelter.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the desk clerk step out the office door and look my way. My heart sunk. I thought I had timed it so he would be off shift by now. Abruptly, I changed direction and moved across the parking lot, pulling my shawl over my head and ducking to let my long, auburn hair hide my face . . . hoping he wouldn't call to me.
Maybe there's another cheap motel in town or even a room for rent, I thought, trying to dredge up some hope. The dwindling stash of money never left the edges of my mind, but the fear from his unrelenting attention was starting to overshadow even that constant worry.
The clerk never stopped watching me with those shifty eyes, eyes that made me feel somehow exposed. Truthfully, I didn't feel much safer when I was locked in the room. There had been signs someone had gone through my little bag of stuff last time I went out. I had since taken to carrying it with me whenever I left.
Then last night around one a.m., someone had rattled the handle of my door, trying to open it. When the lock held, they shook the door violently in the frame. Was it the clerk? Or worse, someone from New Eden? Could they have found me so fast?
I leaped out of bed and stood in the dark room, frozen in fear, holding the flimsy chair that came with the tiny table at the ready. It was doubtful how good of a weapon it would make, bu
t it was the only thing in the entire room that wasn't bolted down. I stood there long after everything had grown quiet, too afraid to go back to sleep.
Now as I stumbled down the street, not sure where I was going, the panicky feeling grew too loud for me to even think straight. I had been sure I would find a job by now, sure I would be out of the motel and less of a target for them to find. I had thought I could make a place for myself. I had been too confident after I managed to get a state id. Cringing, I thought again of the lie laminated and preserved for eternity in the space marked address.
Foolishly, I had believed that being healthy, smart and hardworking would make me hire-able, but every job I had applied for had wanted references I couldn't give and skills I didn't have. Things like online applications or a cell phone number where employers could reach me had thrown me for a loop. We did not have these things inside the compound and the elders had fiercely guarded what knowledge was allowed to filter in.
My face blushed hot, remembering that humiliating conversation. The shop girl had gawped at me in amazement when she realized that I had no idea what the internet was or a website. I had fled the store in a misery of fear and shame. Now worry dogged my footsteps as I searched for a way ahead. One week left and then where would I go? I knew no one here. I knew no one anywhere. . .except back at the New Eden Fellowship.
And I would die before I went back.
I walked and worried, passing windows full of clothes and gadgets I had never owned and even some whose use I could not puzzle out. The sound of laughter made me look up. Twisting to the side, I skirted around an old woman who was taking up more than her fair share of the sidewalk, murmuring excuse me as I did. The woman suddenly grabbed me by the arm.
“The devil will seek to deceive you,” the woman hissed, her eyes wide and vacant. “He will come as a handsome man to your bed and wrap you in arms of sin.”
I jerked my arm away as if stung, then lurched backwards, while the woman continued to mutter and threaten vile things in my future. I cringed against the side of a store, feeling the weight of my situation settle again on my shoulders. I had left to escape these kinds of crazies and here I was, getting stopped in the street by ranting old women.
“Let me help you, sweetie.”
I jumped at the sound of the voice so close beside my ear. The leering clerk from the motel pressed even closer to me, forcing me back against a wall. Panic washed over me, robbing me of common sense.
“What do you want?” I said, my breath growing short as my heart sped up.
"I just want to help you,” he drawled, his smile oily with confidence. He stared at me almost hungrily and licked his lips. Those eyes, too closely set to ever be anything but alarming, bored into mine. There was a satisfied, knowing look to them as if I had already agreed to whatever it was he was offering.. .oras if I had no other choice. “I know you don't have any money.”
“How do you know that?” I blurted out and then gritted my teeth for admitting it.
“You ain't even got any stuff,” he said. There was a gleam of triumph in his weaselly eyes.
Anger started to bloom inside me in spite of the shaky feeling of fear. He had gone through my stuff.
“You had no right!” I blurted out.
“Hey, it's my responsibility to make sure you ain't selling drugs or something out that room,” he said and then smiled that greasy smile again. “But never mind all that. Bet you didn't know I get a room free with my job. I'm a nice guy, Abigail. I would let you stay with me.”
I shuddered when he used my realname. The words were different, but in my head, it still sounded like Sister Mariam and the intent of a man trying to force me to his will was the same. I forced my chin up. It wasn't the same. I wouldn't let it be.
He looked me up and down and then trailed a finger down my arm. “I'd take care of you and you'd could. . .take care of me. I bet you look really nice under all them clothes.”
I was suddenly thankful for some of the things I had resented so much about the New Eden Fellowship, like the rules about no make up, modest ankle-length skirts and loose-fitting garments. Now, even as his nasty gaze slithered up and down my figure, there was no way he could see anything through all the shapeless layers.
I stumbled backwards and then turned and ran, wishing I could block out the sound of his laughter.
“You'll be back,” he called confidently. “I know girls like you. You ain't got no where else to go.”
I walked faster and then turned the corner to get out of his sight.
Girls like me. . .
The words tumbled around and around in my panicked brain. How many, I wondered, thought they escaped from horrible home situations and then landed up in something worse?
I walked faster as if I could leave the worry and fear behind.
***
Two hours later, my feet were sore and my heart discouraged. Nowhere could I find a room cheaper than the Dewdrop Inn. Biting my lip, I struggled not to cry and instead, forced myself to take a bite of the tuna melt I had ordered at Edna's Eats. The sandwich was the cheapest thing on the menu and in spite of my dismal resignation at the description, I was surprised that hot tuna fish and cheese actually tasted good.
The ugly scene with the clerk pressed down on me. Why hadn't I said something. . . anything? Why didn't I fight him or yell at him to get away from me? Was running away the only defense I would ever have?
But you did run, I argued with that voice trying to shame me. A few weeks ago, you would not even have done that. You didn't let him hurt you and that is the important thing.
I looked cautiously around the full diner and a small smile crossed my face. Pride at what I had done quietly filled me. I was out in the world, eating a lunch I had chose. There was no one to demand I lower my eyes, show respect or hurry to finish some task or another. And if my future was uncertain, but this moment was assured. Sitting here, anonymous in a hungry lunch crowd, I savored a moment of peace. For just this moment, I was safe, I was fed, and I was off my feet.
But in the next moment, I froze, my mouth full of hot cheese, as someone slid into the seat in front of me.
“I'll pay you twenty bucks if you'll act like my girlfriend.”
Had I heard those words correctly? I looked up alarmed, not sure whether to yell or run. My startled gaze met bright blue eyes with a hint of panic in them. They were open and clear, and without consciously deciding it, some of my own panic faded away. They were innocent eyes, not gripped by lust or fervent religious mania. The dark-haired boy in the seat before me held up his hands in defense, offering an apologetic smile.
“It's not what you think. My sister and her best friend are meeting me here. Cassie, my sister, will not stop trying to set me up, so. . ." he made a wry face, “I told her I had a girlfriend.”
The boy looked at me pleadingly. "I'm throwing myself on your mercy. Just sit here and I'll pay for your lunch and you never have to see me again. An easy twenty and you'll do a good deed for a desperate man.”
His face was so wide-open and honest that I found myself nodding before I knew it. Part of it, I admitted, was that I would feel safer in a group than on my own. No one would come up to me and bother me if I was with other girls and a guy. The other part had something to do with that bright light in his eyes and that was the part I didn't want to think too closely about. That was not something I wanted or needed in my life.
"My sister means well," he added quietly. "Our parents were killed in a car accident not long ago and she's having a tough time."
I watched him cautiously. What if this was just a story to gain my sympathy?
“I'm Abigail,” I said slowly, thinking that twenty dollars could feed me for a week or more.
“But I call you Abby,” the boy said with a laugh, “and we met here at good old Edna's.”
“Because you let me have the last slice of cherry pie,” I said shyly trying to play along.
“Make it peach,” he said. “I'm pretty g
reedy when it comes to pie but I hate peach.”
I found myself laughing, the worry and fear lifting. “So you acted as if you were being chivalrous, but you didn't even want the last slice if it was peach?”
The boy laid a hand across his chest. “You found me out, but by then, I had captivated you with my humor and vast knowledge of movie trivia.”
My smile slipped a little. Movies hadn't been allowed at New Eden. They were of the world which made them a gateway to sin.
“I should probably know your name,” I said, trying to recapture some of the lightness.
He smacked himself in his forehead. “Oh, yeah! I'm Adam. Adam Campling."
"Abigail. . .Jones.” I added the last name quickly before I could stutter from the unfamiliarity. It still felt like a lie burning on my tongue. After all, I had been Mariam since I was nine. And since my menses started, Sister Mariam. I pushed that thought away. That person no longer existed.
“Abby Jo,” he said with a teasing grin and I shook my head in mock horror.
“No, please. Unless you want to be Addy.”
He laughed, a great shout that made me flinch just a little. People turned to stare at us, making me cringe. Quickly, I slapped a smile on my face, the “everything's fine” smile I had taught from very young age. But for the first time. . .it felt almost possible.
***
“Oh my God! She actually exists!”
Two girls had approached the booth while we were laughing. The sister, dark haired and blue-eyed like her brother, slid in beside me.
“I'm Cassie and this is Marlee. She's heartbroken that you stole her man.” Cassie said the words like she was joking, but there was a look in her eyes that said it wasn't all fun and games.
I smiled weakly, feeling uncomfortable at the girl's intense stare.
