by Tl Reeve
Twisted Solstice
The Simone Hadley Files Prequel
TL Reeve and Michele Ryan
Blurb
When you grow up watching all kinds of horror movies, there are some rules you learn to abide by even in real life:
Never have sex.
Never say: “I’ll be right back.”
Never drink or do drugs
I can’t say we followed all of those rules when we went into Turnbull Canyon that night. Hell, I can’t exactly say what happened to us that night either—except for the fact we’ll never be the same.
My name is Simone Hadley, and the story I’m about to tell you is the truth. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me Lucifer.
Twisted Solstice
The Simone Hadley Files
Copyright ©2019 TL Reeve and Michele Ryan
Cover Art ©2019 Glass Crocodile Designs
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of R2R Publishing.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.
Manufactured in the USA.
Disclaimer
Michele and I usually don’t write these because everything we do is fiction. However, for Twisted Solstice, we changed things up a bit. I grew up in Whittier, California. A place nestled in the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains. We’re a Quaker town, filled with Quaker traditions along with a Quaker college.
Twisted Solstice is based off Turnbull Canyon Road. A road that connects Whittier to Hacienda Heights and Puente Hills. Over the years, urban legends have spread like wildfire about the road and what happens at night.
Here are a few examples:
The KKK had meetings in the canyon.
It is Native American sacred grounds.
There are stories about satanic rituals.
Hangings.
An orphanage.
An Insane Asylum that burned down.
A plane crash.
Murder—several of them.
A child who went missing and his skull was the only thing recovered.
Cars that have rolled off the canyon road.
There have also been a couple of wildfires in the canyon. One in 1989 (which scared all of us) and again in 2010.
Here is what I can tell for sure:
No records can be found that an orphanage or an insane asylum had either been constructed or destroyed at any point in time. There are no records of the death of a teen who supposedly touched one of the electroshock electrodes, in the asylum, and electrocuted himself. There are no police reports or court cases for any type of hangings. There is, however, private property that at one time had security cameras surrounding it and a guard dog. That was the supposed property of Anton LaVey. But, again, there is no evidence of it belonging to him or The Church of Satan.
Here are the true stories of the canyon. There was a plane crash. CCA flight 416-West in 1952 crashed into the canyon. There have also been murders in Turnbull Canyon. In 2002 a seventeen-year-old girl was shot in the head and her body was dragged the remaining way down the hill—her killers were caught and are now in prison for the rest of their lives. There was another murder of a woman, whose body was dumped in the canyon along Skyline Drive and Turnbull Canyon Road. She had been there long enough to become carrion for the wildlife of the hills, and she was so decomposed it made identifying her difficult.
A teenage boy was reported missing by his parents and was later found in the canyon. The only thing recovered from him was his skull.
Then, on November 10th, 2018 a car, almost at the bottom of the hill, rolled off the side of the canyon. The driver died on impact. The passenger was sent to USC Medical Center (General Hospital).
Yes, as a matter of fact, the canyon is Native American land. The Gabrielino-Tongva Tribe made their home in Turnbull Canyon.
So, as you can see Turnbull Canyon is quite prolific with its hauntings and truths. If you would like more information, please use the following sites:
Whittier Daily News (Plane crash CCA flight 416-West)
Whittier Daily News (Dumped body)
Prepare to Be Terrified (Urban Legends)
ABC 7 (Recent—2015 KKK activity)
Los Angeles Times (Her name was Gloria, she was 17)
Whittier Daily News (Rollover accident)
Michele and I hope you enjoy this twisted tale. We also hope you have a safe and prosperous holiday season.
Until next time, keep reading!
TL and Michele
**Update** Since the first edition of this story was written, there has been another sink hole discovered on Turnbull Canyon Rd. You can read about it in the Whittier Daily News.
Chapter One
“Do you have everything you need, Simone?” My mom handed me, my sleeping bag after I placed the cooler in the back of my Jeep.
“Yeah, I should. We won’t be out there long, promise,” I said, after throwing the bundle next to the cooler. Though we wouldn’t be doing any sleeping out there, I promised my mom I would take it, just in case.
I grew up in Whittier, California. I love it here—even though I’m not home very often. Anyway, I went to school at Lydia Jackson and Longfellow for elementary school. Went to Whittier High school—home of some pretty famous people and, after graduation, went to Rio Hondo Community College. After two years at Rio Hondo, I transferred to Cal State Long Beach and pursued a degree in Paranormal Psychology with a minor in the Occult. It’s why I am going on this trip to Turnbull Canyon. And why I gave a basic resume rundown. Cheesy, I know. But, hey, I’m proud of my accomplishments. Never hurts to brag a little.
"I'm only a phone call away if you need me.” My mom sighed and gave me a disapproving look.
She hated the idea of me and my colleagues going up into the canyon for any length of time. But, it’s another reason why I have to do this. Through my research and from what I heard growing up, I pieced together a list of incidences which took place in or around Turnbull Canyon. From the plane crash in 1952 to the claims of an orphanage being out there, and a cult group. Even an insane asylum was supposedly destroyed by a fire set by the occupants, killing everyone—kind of like that movie House on Haunted Hill—the remake, not the original with Vincent Price. (Which is so much better) Every story about Turnbull Canyon has been more frightening than the last and most, with the exception of a few, are just legends. I know this. So, part of my mission, with this project, is to separate fact from fiction.
What actually caught my attention and thrust me into this project full on, was a story I read about on one of those conspiracy theory websites. A couple of years ago, a film crew went up into the canyon to film the destruction of a recent wildfire, and never returned. Speculation at the time was that a flare up from the fire forced them to run and leave their equipment behind, which had been found near the area they were filming. But, the area around it, hadn't been touched by the fire. In fact, the red retardant used by LA County Fire lay in a strategic path along the ridge and coincidentally over the area where they supposedly stood.
On further inspection of their footage, or purported footage, since my team hasn’t been able to authenticate it yet, there were scenes of a sacrifice then the brutal murder of everyone in the film crew. The only female of said crew, in the video, was supposedly raped and mutilated all in the name of the Satan. The site where this supposedly happened.
.. The private property of Anton LaVey—world-renowned leader of the Church of Satan.
The property is surrounded by barbwire fencing, security cameras, and motion detecting sensors. There’s even a German Shepard guarding the place. Yet, for all the speculation about the property, no one can find a stitch of truth to the rumor. It’s all conjecture so far. And, as of a few months ago, all of the surveillance equipment had been removed. The fence has gaping holes in it, as well.
“I will. Don’t worry.” I tried to ease my mother’s fears. She grew up here and knew all the legends too, though she never told them to me—except for, ‘stay out of the canyon after dark.’
“You don’t understand,” she said. “It’s not what you think.”
“I wouldn’t know what to think, mother. You wouldn’t tell me. Hell, you wouldn’t even take me through the canyon during the day.” Low-blow on my part, but this had been my one chance to prove the other part of my thesis; how the manifestation of urban legends creates a culture of fear and of fascination.
“Fine. Stay home. I’ll tell you everything." She wrung her hands and the palpable terror in her eyes almost made me second guess my plans.
Almost.
“It’s fine, mom. We’ll be safe.” I gave her a hug, trying to reassure her. “We’ll be home in the morning and I’ll have my cell.” I had to reiterate I’d been prepared for anything, because she’d been shaking, and I felt like shit for leaving her.
“If you hear any noises that are strange, promise me you’ll come home.” Her voice was muffled against my shoulder as she clung to me.
“Sure, mom. I will. But, this is kind of my job.” I tried to tease her. It didn’t work. A niggle of unease slithered down my spine and settled in my stomach. “How about I call you when we’re about to start and when we’ve finished.”
“Please,” she said, almost a bit too eager for my liking.
“See you in the morning.” I give her one last wave before jumping in behind the wheel. My partners, Felix and Paul are waiting in Uptown, at a small cafe near Hadley Avenue. (Yeah, I know, kind of a coincidence I have the same last name as a major street in town. Unfortunately, no relation.) Felix and Paul were going to leave their vehicle in the parking lot and go with me, so we’re all together. Safety in numbers and all that good stuff. Plus, it would draw too much attention to what we were doing if we used two vehicles. People might get suspicious and ruin our experiments or worse, call the police on us—not like I don’t know all the officers, but it’s besides the point.
I pulled in next to Felix’s car then got out. From where I stood, I could see them through the window of the cafe. They sat side by side. Felix had his hand over Paul’s. They were laughing about something and I could see the spark of love there.
Kind of made me jealous.
“I know what you’re doing,” someone behind me said.
I turned. No one was there, which wasn’t unusual for me. Surprise, I can see dead people. I can also talk to them. A weird byproduct of a traumatic past. “No one asked you.” I cut my gaze to the side and saw the outline of a figure standing beside me in my periphery. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He shrugged becoming corporal. "Your mom's right. Tonight will be dangerous."
He pulled at the collar of his long sleeve white button-down shirt that he’d rolled up at the elbows. The lines of his tattoos came into focus, becoming a display of vibrant colors and designs. This guy, he’s all sinew, lean but strong. His black hair is slicked back, exposing the sides of his shaved head and the tattoos on his neck. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket while narrowing his brilliant blue eyes at me. I know who he is.
Kael.
“What?” Seeing the dead, started after my third birthday which happened to coincide with the aforementioned traumatic event. In the beginning, it used to scare me. Then I thought I was crazy. I mean, who actually sees dead people, besides scam artists who are trying to make a quick buck off the gullible? Dead family members seem to be my biggest draw along with my protectors, like Kael. I’ve never seen the faces of my three guardians though, only their purple hooded cloaks with golden belts, and their eyes.
They’ve kept the spirits away that meant to do me harm, and they’ve also given me a bit of precognition. Usually, it’s something simple, like an anxious feeling at the back of my neck or a knot in my stomach. Sometimes, it’s a feeling of missing something. I couldn’t tell my mom though. If I did, she’d ship me off to Metro—a mental health facility in Norwalk. Of course, Metro houses the criminally insane, but knowing my mother, she’d figure out some way for me to end up there.
This guy though, his appearance surprised me. I thought for sure my guardians always wore their robes. Guess not.
He placed the tip of his smoke at his full, lush lips and cracked a crooked smile. He was devastatingly handsome. His strong jaw frame hollow cheeks and a straight aquiline nose. He also happens to have dimples as well. “You’re not my usual type and by that, I mean, I don’t usually show my corporal form.” He shrugged after lighting his cigarette.
“Uh, thanks.” I coughed when the puff of smoke billowed toward me. “I need to go now. My friends are waiting.” I point in the direction of the cafe.
“Yeah, I know. I’m here to go with you. As protection,” he said. “My name is, well... You can call me, Kael.”
I cock a brow while heading for the door to the establishment. “Kael?” I laugh. “I know who you are.”
He pops a brow and gives me that sinful smile again. “You do, huh?”
“Duh, yeah.”
He winks at me, and I swear my ovaries sighed. “Well, do you know how I got my name?”
I shook my head.
“My parents were all about the strange and unusual. When they saw Kael, it was like kismet.”
“Oh.” I stared at his clothes. Between the suspenders, shirt and black pants, he could be from any time period too. Except for the fact he’s wearing black Doc Martins. I caught kind of a ‘90’s grunge thing crossed with like an Elvis Costello Ska vibe. It totally worked for him.
“Yep. I’m twenty-two or was.” He shrugs.
I nod, raising my hand to greet my friends. “Can you be seen?”
“Yes. If I want people to see me. You don’t look weird if you’re worried about it.” He laughed, flicking his smoke onto the sidewalk before stepping into the cafe behind me.
Thank fuck for small favors. I rolled my eyes. “You’re a peach.”
Kael shrugged.
I waved at my teammates, and Paul and Felix gave me a weird look, then cast their gazes to my companion as we approached. “Guys this is Kael. I thought for this investigation we should have another set of hands on-site, just in case.”
Kael waved at them then sat. "I’d turn back if I were you.”
Paul gave a nervous chuckle before clearing his throat. “You’re not the first person who’s said such.”
“I think I got it three times today,” Felix added. “People are really freaked out about Turnbull Canyon.”
“It’s alive,” I said. “According to everyone and everything I’ve read.”
“Everything they say is true. Even the things no one can prove.” Kael turned to me. “You know it’s the solstice, right? What it symbolizes for some.”
The shortest day of the year. Yep, I knew. "Yes, it's why I chose today to do this."
“I don’t think you do. Simone, it’s a night for human sacrifices.” Kael stared at me and I swear I could see the stars—universes, gliding through the blue of his irises.
Paul leaned forward. “Human sacrifices?”
Kael folds his hands on the table. “Satanic worship. Tell me you all know the urban legends for the canyon.”
I mean... Of course, we did. Duh. It’s why we were going up there. “If you only mean to freak us out, it won’t work.”
“Not at all,” he replied. “However, you should know the canyon will be supernaturally charged tonight. Like during
Halloween, the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest on this day.”
“Even better,” Felix muttered, swallowing hard. “If we’re going to prove Simone’s theory, shouldn’t we be there at the peak of activity? Who are you again?”
Kael sits back. “A friend of Simone’s.” He glances at me before pulling the box of cigarettes from his pocket. Then, as if he remembered, he put it back. “I don’t give a rats ass if you go up there, but it’s risky.”
“Thanks for the concern,” Paul said. “We’ll be fine.”
“They all say that.” Kael shrugged.
Dread, thick like sludge, rolled down my spine and settled on top of the anxious knot in my stomach. For a second, I considered whether or not I should be doing this. “You’re an asshole.”
“You saw the video, right? The news crew?” Kael leaned forward and drops his voice. “I was there when it happened. I tried to warn them. They too wouldn’t listen.”
We sat there in stunned silence. If only Kael was alive. He could tell the authorities who did it. As it stood, it was all rumor and legend. Then, I saw the mischievous glint in his eye. “Good one.” I let out a shaky breath and laughed. “You’re really good at telling ghost stories.”
Again, he gives me that stupid crooked grin that makes me melt. “Well, one of us has to be.”
After Paul and Felix loaded their equipment into my vehicle, we all got in and started for the canyon. It’s not long before the terrain changes and we go from sprawling cityscapes to dry brush and hills. Every street in my town could tell you a story. Every piece of property, the same. Some of the empty lots were from earthquakes. Others from fires. After the Whittier Narrows Earthquake, the whole town changed. I mean, how could it not. People died. People lost their homes. The whole landscape of Whittier changed.
When I started researching the events surrounding the canyon, I spent some time looking through the roles of microfiche at the public library, in hopes it would shed a light on the unexplained things that happened in our town.
