by Isaac Thorne
Staff and Afia simultaneously opened their Apple Photos app and examined the video that they had recorded of the creature that morning. They looked at their screens, at each other, and then back at their screens in disbelief. Patsy was right. Just like what happened with the video that Jeremy Beard had recorded through the rear window of the Gordon house, their videos were stored, but the creature herself was not in them. It was as if they had all been pretending to record a beast, maybe to have it inserted in post-production CGI, except that there was not even a green-clad placeholder creature in the shot. Instead, they watched image after image of dead grass, wood siding, and portions of cinder block wall that served as a foundation scroll by on their screens.
“Now what?” Staff asked Afia.
“What do we have on the Channel 6 camera?”
Staff hefted the device and jogged with it to the S-10. He connected it to a playback device there. All three survivors of the Gordon place watched that morning’s recordings unfold for a second time.
There was Graham Gordon, standing at the precipice of the cellar, convinced that plummeting to this death was the only way to stop the madness. Previous to that, there was nothing but an open cellar door with lights trained on it. Staff allowed the video to play up through the moment when he and Afia had seen the black dog leap from the shadows and shove the man into the cellar, but there was no dog in the shot. There was only a sudden look of shock that spread across Graham Gordon’s face, followed by his tipping over backward into the cellar. The last frame of him showed the grooved soles of his Wolverine work boots as they disappeared into the darkness below the door.
Afia, who had been watching the playback over Staff’s shoulder, sniffled. “Well,” she said, “we still have a news story. We have everything Graham told us before he died. We’re going to have to rely on law enforcement and forensics to prove what he said about his father and the bones in the crawl space, but the truth will come out. The truth will come out. It always does. The only thing we’ve really lost here is the most unbelievable part of the story, the supernatural part. So maybe that’s for the best.”
She turned to face both Staff and Patsy, clasping each of them by a hand. “Let’s make a pact here, while we’re alone. We do not discuss what we can’t prove about what happened here today. Staff, you and I will collect our footage of the constable and report on that. To our viewers, it will look like the ravings of a mind that had snapped after being trapped in the cellar overnight, but that won’t diminish the physical evidence that it turned up in the crawl space.”
Patsy piped up then. “What about Mr. Beard? What about the sheriff? I told them about some of this while I was showing them the video.”
“But there was nothing on the video, right?” Staff said. “So maybe you were just a little too excited about your ghost tours business, eh? You made a few mountains out of molehills over it. No one could blame you for that.”
“Patsy, I’ll want you on-camera, too,” Afia continued. “We’re going to need you to fill in some of the backstories that we don’t have now because we don’t have my mother’s words on video. I can fill in the stuff from my childhood, but I’ll need you to explain who Graham Gordon is and make the connections from him to the house and why he was out here in the first place.”
The older woman looked as if she might be about to protest. Staff interjected before she could. “Afia, what if we promise Patsy to go out to the old cemetery on the other side of town for our Halloween special?” He turned to Patsy. “We’ll do the Halloween special story to give Lost Hollow some positive attention if you’ll help us with this. It’s an important story, and if we don’t get it straight from you, the other stations and outlets will get only the sheriff’s department’s version from police reports. I don’t need to tell you that rural sheriffs don’t make for the best PR people.”
That seemed to convince her.
“All right,” she said. “But you promise?” She looked pleadingly from Staff to Afia. Afia glanced at Staff, not without a little admonishment, then smiled and nodded.
“Sure, we’ll see what we can do.”
“Great!” Staff exclaimed. He disconnected the playback device, heaved the Channel 6 News camera onto his right shoulder, and looked at Afia. “It’s settled, then. Where do you want to set up our shot?”
***
By the time Afia, Staff, and Patsy Blankenship shot their segments for the story about the tragic death of Lost Hollow’s newly elected constable Graham Gordon, the Hollow County medical examiner had arrived with a minimal forensics team. A second—and now unnecessary—ambulance had arrived as well. Jeremy Beard, on the other hand, had been shown off the property. Staff thought he had looked none too pleased about being ushered away, but at least he’d have a story to tell his cosplayer friends.
The M.E. was overseeing the extraction of human bones from the crawl space as well as the body of Graham from the floor of the cellar of the old Gordon place. Afia filed the first part of her story about Graham with Channel 6, ensuring that they would break the news, and also teasing that more information from officials would be reported as it became available. Before nightfall, the area of dead-end street outside the sheriff’s department’s crime scene tape would be filled with lights, cameras, on-air reporters, and vans from the station’s regional competitors. All of them would vie for the most exclusive access and information, but none of them would ever get as close to the story as Afia Afton and her cameraman Joe “Staff” Stafford.
The two women and the cameraman had moved away from the front porch of the old house and were leaning against the side of the Channel 6 News S-10, awaiting their interviews with the officials now in charge of the scene as well as their individual “interviews” that would take place down at the station later that night. By the time the sheriff himself reappeared from within the bowels of the old Gordon place, the Saturday autumn sunshine was casting long shadows of late afternoon across the front yard. The phantom fingers of trees that had already become barren of their leaves clawed at the clumps of dead grass that lined the driveway. Light breezes tickled their branches, making them appear to be moving of their own accord.
Now and then, there was a creaking sound from somewhere above them. Looking around, Staff surmised that it was coming from the hinges of the dome of an old security light that was stationed at the edge of the driveway. The dome had at some point become unfastened and was dangling from its arm on top of the pole. It swung there at the mercy of gusts of autumn wind.
Eventually, the sun sank below the tree line of the woods behind the house, darkening the front yard and all who remained on it. Soon after, the swinging askew security light flickered on in the dusk.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No author’s work is created entirely in a vacuum. For The Gordon Place, I owe a debt of gratitude to a number of unique and talented individuals, including all of the following:
David Karner of ScareScapes for his suggestion several years ago that I attempt a novel.
Brynda Baker, Emily Ramsey, and David P. Kolb for serving as volunteer beta readers and providing invaluable feedback on an early draft of this story. The results of their individual feedback is present throughout.
Starr, Nia, and Jesse of Quiethouse Editing for their beta reading services. Without their input, this story would have been a significantly different experience.
Paula Rozelle Hanback for once again designing an epic cover for my use in this book. Paula has so far designed covers for all my books.
ALSO BY ISAAC THORNE
ROAD KILLS is a collection of short tales of dark horror from the mind of Isaac Thorne. These stories are all connected to travel, to the road. It is always lurking there, just waiting for you to come out for a drive or a walk or a jog.
However you next confront it, the road is already there, plotting.
And waiting.
For you.
Available at paperback and ebook retailers everywhere.
A
BOUT THE AUTHOR
Isaac Thorne is a nice man who has, over the course of his life, developed a modest ability to spin a good yarn. Really. He promises. You can find him on Twitter @isaacrthorne or on Facebook at facebook.com/isaacrthorne. Just don’t push him down a flight of stairs.
In addition to writing horror, Isaac reviews horror movies for TNHorror.com and TheHorrorcist.com. He is also the host of audio narration shows Thorne’s Theater of Terror and Classic Cuts on SCRM Radio, which is a 24/7/365 internet radio station available online at scrmradio.com.
THANK YOU
Isaac Thorne and Lost Hollow Books appreciate the time you’ve devoted to this novel. If you like what you’ve read, please consider reviewing the book on Goodreads or wherever you purchased this volume. Ratings and reviews help books like these become discovered by other readers like you.
Copyright © 2019 by Isaac Thorne
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.
ISBN 978-1-938271-45-8 (Paperback Edition)
ISBN 978-1-938271-46-5 (eBook Edition)
ISBN 978-1-938271-47-2 (Hardcover Edition)
Library of Congress Control Number 2019934166
This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, locations, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design by Paula Rozelle Hanback
www.paulahanback.com
Published in the United States of America
First printing April 2019
Published by Lost Hollow Books
PO Box 1193
Franklin, TN 37065
www.isaacthorne.com
www.losthollowbooks.com
Table of Contents
AUTHOR'S NOTE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ALSO BY ISAAC THORNE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
THANK YOU
Landmarks
Cover
