Eleven months passed. Devon and Mary were back to pulling pranks. Instead of picking on Old Man Jones, they were preying on Ms. Jenkins.
Ms. Jenkins, the school gym teacher, was not the best choice for her new position. She had served six decades as Black Forest Elementary School’s history and math teacher. The principal was forced to give her an easy assignment or terminate her contract as she could no longer do complex tasks. Her stroke had greatly reduced her mental acuity.
Devon and Mary took advantage of Ms. Jenkins’s hearing loss. Many times, Devon would smile, wave and insult Ms. Jenkins in front of the class. The unsuspecting teacher would smile back and tell the class how nice Devon was behaving. Of course, the entire class would burst out laughing, leaving Ms. Jenkins dazed and confused.
Other times, Mary would wait until Ms. Jenkins bent over to tie her shoe then the young girl would hurl a red gym ball at her bum, startling the elderly lady. All the children would laugh and point at the teacher.
“Mary, we have to pull some really good pranks on Ms. Jenkins,” Devon said with a devilish grin on his face.
“Yeah, we should fill her house with black cats or put a scary message on her windows with soap,” Mary laughed.
“Great ideas!”
“See, brother. I am a great prankster, too.”
The two siblings high-fived each other. As their hands smacked together, they both felt a cold chill. The wind danced around them and whispered, “I’m coming for you.”
“Mary, did you hear that?” Devon’s eyes were wide with fear.
“I—I—I think so,” Mary replied.
Before Devon could say another word, his mother pulled up to the “Car Rider” line in her black mini-van. “Get in, kids. I have something sad to tell you both.”
“What is it, mother?” Mary asked, still shaken from the whispering wind.
“Remember Old Man Jones?” their mother spoke, tears filling her eyes.
Fear and guilt filled the two youngsters. They did their best to forget about The Crazy Farmer.They had, especially, decided to keep their distance after they heard their mother’s disgust for the culprits at church. In fact, they had been model students for months after the event, but old habits were hard to break; the children’s behavior was no exception. Ironically, Mary and Devon’s cruel pranks were reborn the day Principal Michaels made Ms. Jenkins the gym teacher.
Both children, seated snuggly behind their mother, intently looked into the rearview mirror as their mother continued. They watched her reflection as she shared the dreaded news. “Old Man Jones died today. I just got off the phone with his sister. She told me services are tomorrow. We will be going to pay our respects. I expect you both to be on your best behavior.”
Devon stared at his sister. They both sat motionless, turning fifty shades of white.
“I have never been to a funeral,” Mary whined. “I am scared.”
“Mary, you don’t need to be scared but those pranksters should be.”
“What—what do you mean, mom?” Devon asked, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.
“Well, Old Man Jones’s sister said it was the strangest thing. Apparently, the farmer sat up and said, ‘I know now that I had been pranked. I will get my revenge on my tormentors.’ He lay back down and died. She never got a chance to find out who tortured the poor fellow. I guess he is going to take care of it himself. Scary, huh? And to think Halloween is the day after his funeral,” mother said, shaking her head. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be those people.”
Devon and Mary felt cold chills. The brother and sister realized that they had truly heard the wind speak. Mary felt warm tears wash down her cheeks. Devon’s hands began to tremble.
“Anyway, don’t be scared. Those are just the words of an eccentric man. We won’t stay long, but it is important to pay our respects.”
* * *
Mr. Davenport, Devon and Mary’s father, banged on the bathroom door. “Devon, hurry up. We need to leave in five minutes,” he said, glancing down at his Seiko. On the other side of the door, Devon stared at his reflection. He reached down into the sink, cupped his hands under the running water, and splashed the cool liquid onto his face.
“Devon, honey, we have to go. You are father is waiting in the car. Are you okay?” Mrs. Davenport asked.
“Yes, Mom. I am coming,” Devon said, rechecking his appearance in the mirror and taking a deep breath.
Devon was the last one to enter the Cadillac. As he slammed the car door shut, he felt his stomach twist. He looked over at his little sister who had her eyes clenched shut while saying a protection prayer. Devon rested his head against the window and closed his eyes.
“Now, Mary and Devon, don’t be scared. We won’t stay long,” Mr. Davenport said.
“That’s right, children. There is nothing to be afraid of,” Mrs. Davenport echoed her husband’s sentiments.
The children said nothing. Mary looked out her window with a blank expression. Devon began to drift asleep. Their mother pushed in the radio’s power button and found a classic-rock station. Mr. Davenport stared out the windshield, rehearsing his eulogy speech in his head.
Mr. Davenport, known as Pastor Davenport to the folks of Black Forest, had performed more funerals than he cared to remember. He had never had his children attend any of the previous ceremonies, because he had felt that they were too young. Now that his children were older, he felt they were ready. In fact, it was Mrs. Davenport who had encouraged the decision.
“Okay, kids, we are here,” Pastor Davenport said. “Everybody out.” The pastor pulled up to the front doors of Baer’s funeral home. The sudden stop of the car woke Devon and broke Mary’s trance.
“Come, children, let’s go,” Mrs. Davenport directed.
Both children exited the car without a word, following their mother. The giant two-story building appeared to be mocking Mary and Devon. They felt like they were walking to their own funerals as they slowly walked up the red brick stairs. The magnificent white doors dwarfed all who approached. As they entered, Mary and Devon looked at each other and held hands.
“Now, children, I expect you to be on your best behavior. No silliness. This is a serious and solemn affair,” their mother commanded, never looking back as she made her way into the parlor.
Old Man Jones’s sister quickly greeted Mrs. Davenport. The two began to talk in earnest. All the townspeople were there to support The Crazy Farmer’s sister. As Devon and Mary walked further into the Parlor, Miss Jones looked up at them with an angry expression on her face. The twins quickly turned their heads away.
The siblings unintentionally turned into Old Man Jones’s coffin. The imposing black metal container was a far cry from his humble farmhouse. The shine of the gold trim blinded the children. Devon looked into the casket and saw Old Man Jones lying on white soft cushions. Mary slowly turned to look as well.
As the duo of mischief looked into the coffin, a cold breeze blew behind them. Mary’s dark brown locks blew across her face and Devon’s suit tie blew up and rested on his shoulder. The wind rushed into Old Man Jones’s nose. His eyes sprung open and he raised his arm up, pointing his finger at the two pranksters. “YOU! I am coming for you, soon,” the corpse warned.
The children screamed as loud as they could and sprinted to the door. As they were about to exit, their father filled the doorway. “What is the meaning of this?” Pastor Davenport scolded.
The children were hysterical. He looked up at his wife. She came right over. “Jim, we were wrong. I guess they aren’t ready.”
“Give me a moment, Karen,” the pastor asked. He walked over to Miss Jones and apologized. “I thought my children were ready to pay their final respects. I was wrong. I meant—”
Miss Jones interrupted him. “You made the right decision. They shouldpay their respects to my brother.” She looked directly at the children who were peering up at her from their mother’s embrace. “They just need to go visit him with you. A father�
�s strong hand will guide these little bra—ones.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Pastor Davenport agreed. He walked over to his kids and kissed them both. “You do not need to be afraid of the dead. Come back up there with me and pay your respects.”
“Jim, do you think that’s a good idea? They looked mortified,” Karen Davenport retorted.
“Karen, we cannot let them fear the dead. I will take them up there so they know it’s safe. After that you can go. Mr. Murphy said he can give me a ride to the funeral.”
“Okay, Jim. If you think it’s the right thing to do.”
“Yes, it is. Come children, everything will be fine. Trust your father.” He kissed each one on the head. Pastor Davenport took each of his children’s hands and walked them up to the casket.
Although the children were very scared, they knew their dad would protect them. They approached the coffin and noticed that Old Man Jones appeared to be smiling with raised eyebrows.
“I understand why you were scared. I have never seen a person look like that,” Pastor Davenport said, looking rather scared himself. Not wanting his children to see his fear, he quickly turned away from the casket and walked his children out the door. “I am proud of you. I knew you were both brave. Go home with your mother. I think you have seen enough. I love you both, and thank you for giving your last respects.”
“Yes, Dad,” Devon and Mary answered in unison. “We love you, too.”
After he secured the children into the car, he spoke with his wife. “Honey, did it look like Old Man Jones was smiling when you paid your respects?”
“Oh, Jim, you stayed up too late writing your speech. He looked like any other soul who has gone with the Lord; he was peaceful and appeared to be sleeping. I love you, honey.” She spoke with an encouraging tone.
Jim Davenport waved to his family, entered the funeral home and went directly to Old Man Jones’s coffin. He looked at him again. This time he looked as though he was asleep and peaceful; he had no smile on his face.
* * *
Mary stared at her spaghetti, twirling the noodles with her fork. She hadn’t eaten one noodle on her plate. Her mother looked very concerned. “Mary, spaghetti is your favorite dish. Why aren’t you eating?”
Mrs. Davenport looked over at Devon as he stared emptily at his toasted cheese sandwich. “Devon, honey, what is wrong? Why aren’t you eating?”
“I just feel a little sick. That’s all, Mom,” he whispered.
“Me too, Mom,” Mary echoed.
“Is it because you were scared at the funeral home?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes.
Despite being a rather cruel practical joker, Devon never liked to see his mom hurt. He looked over at his sister and then lied, “Mom, it has nothing to do with the funeral home. Mary and I know why you had us go. We just never saw a dead person. Everything is okay. Love you.”
Mary, following her brother’s lead, repeated his lie. “Mom, we were a little scared. I guess we just had a big day.”
Mrs. Davenport looked up. “I love you two so much. You are my little angels. I thank God every night that I have such good children.”
Devon managed a weak smile and asked to be excused. His sister followed suit. They both retired to their bedroom. “Mary, I think we are just freaking out. I think it’s guilt.”
“No way. Old Man Jones is alive and he is going to come get us. We have to tell mom and dad,” she cried.
“Don’t you see what’s happening? Our guilt is getting the best of us. If we tell mom, it will break her heart. Two seconds ago, she thanked us for being so good. We are going to bed and everything is going to be fine. Trust me.”
Mary wiped her eyes. “Okay, but I am sleeping next to you.”
“No way,” Devon protested.
“Then I am telling Mom. I am too scared to sleep by myself.”
“Fine, just stay on your side of the bed, little one,” Devon said, his nose crinkled. He couldn’t decide what was worse: seeing that monster or having to sleep with his younger sister.
“Little one! I am two minutes younger. Seriously,” Mary protested.
“Whatever. Just stay on your side, Mary. Oh, and bring your flashlight.”
After some initial kicking and prodding the two siblings settled down and fell asleep. Around three a.m., Mary was startled by a cracking sound. She quickly turned her flashlight to and fro. “Devon, wake up. Wake up! The monster is here.”
Devon woke up and grabbed the light from Mary. He sprung up from the bottom bunk and flashed the light all around the room. The wind began to howl. It’s force pressed hard against the bedroom window, whistling through the cracks.
“It’s just the wind, Mary,” he said, afraid to look out the window.
“Devon, look and see if he is out there. Look, Devon. Look,” her voice began to rise.
“Shh—okay, okay. I am looking,” he whispered. He quickly glanced out the window. The wind was thrashing branches back and forth. Leaves blew haphazardly across the yard, but the jungle gym was different. As Devon fixed his gaze on the swings, he noticed a chilling image; one of the swings was moving in perfect rhythm. It appeared as if somebody was swinging. Rubbing his eyes, he took a second look. The two swings sat still despite the chaos around them.
“Devon, what is it? What is it?” Mary asked.
“I—I don’t know,” he stammered.
Mary jumped out of bed, looking down at the swing set. She immediately recognized the problem and started to cry. “He is coming for us,” she cried.
“He can’t get us in here. We are safe. Mom and Dad will protect us,” Devon said, feeling his heartbeat race rapidly.
The twins jumped back into the bed and put their heads under the covers. They huddled close with the flashlight burning bright, shaking each time the wind beat against their window.
“I think we should tell dad,” Mary whined.
“No, Mary, we promised never to tell. We have to keep our promise.”
“But he will get us”
“No, he can’t, Mary. He is just trying to scare us.”
“Well, he is doing a good job,” she replied, shivering with fear.
The two siblings stayed up all night. They didn’t feel safe until the sun’s rays beamed through their window. Their eyes were bloodshot and their nerves were frayed.
The thoughts of pranking Ms. Jenkins had long passed. Devon and Mary were more concerned about the monster that was waiting to get them. Tonight was Halloween. Surely, he would strike this evening.
“It seems like he cannot get us in the house. Let’s tell Mom that we are sick again,” Mary said desperately.
“That’s a good idea. Hmmm. On second thought, we have to go out this year. If we don’t, Mom will think it’s because she made us go to Old Man Jones’s viewing.”
“Well, that is the reason.” Mary protested.
“No, it’s because we pranked him, and now he is coming to pay us back; however, he doesn’t show himself when we are around Mom or Dad—,” Devon said.
“So, if we stay close to them, he cannot get us,” Mary shared.
“Exactly! So we will tell Mom that we want her to trick or treat with us. She will think we are being silly, but Mom is silly enough to do it.”
“Great idea, Devon. But what about after Halloween?”
“I think we will be safe until next year. I think he can only get us during Halloween season.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mary remarked.
* * *
“Kids are you ready to go trick or treating?” Karen Davenport beamed.
“Ready, Mom,” Devon beamed. He believed his plan was going to work. “Are you ready?”
“What do you mean?” His mother asked inquisitively.
Mary chimed, “We want you to trick or treat with us this year.”
“I am too old for that,” Mrs. Davenport protested, blushing slightly.
“Mom, you are the coolest mom in the whole world. Beside
s, last year you said Halloween would be eventful,” Devon said, flashing his baby blues eyes.
“Oh, alright. I think I can put on a witch costume fast.”
“Great, Mom,” Mary replied as Mrs. Davenport ran to her bedroom closet to search for a costume.
“Told you. Everything will be just fine,” Devon boasted.
Before Mary could reply, the children heard a rapid machine gun-like fire of knocks pelting on the door. Devon looked through the silver peek hole; no one was there. Goose bumps riddled his skin. Trying not to show any fear, he opened the door.
Spine Chillers: Paranormal Stories Page 4
