Rogue's Hollow

by Jan Tilley

  Rogue’s Hollow

  ~

  Jan Tilley

  2011 by Jan Tilley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote a brief passage in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  First printing

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1468162950

  ISBN-10: 1468162950

  Merci

  Inspired by Kevin and twisted by Brooke, these characters grew legs and walked into my heart.

  Thanks also to the following individuals for

  your ideas, critiques and insights:

  Kathi Davis

  Christine Osborne

  Kevin Tilley

  Michele Molina

  and the Spencer/Molina caravan

  Author photograph & Ode to Rogue’s Hollow

  Courtesy of Kevin Tilley

  Dedication

  This novel is dedicated to my beautiful, talented, twisted daughter, Brooke Anna. Rogue’s Hollow is your brain child, too. You stood your ground and turned this into a creepy story,

  not just a fairy tale.

  I am forever grateful to power outages and long drives for our brain-storming sessions.

  You definitely went above and beyond.

  ~

  Your acceptance and open-minded attitude are a breath of fresh air in this stagnant world. You not only expect, but demand change in the world. I can't wait to see the great things

  you’ll do in the future.

  You inspire me to be a better person

  every day.

  Let your freak flag fly, my wild child.

  Je t'adore. Vous serez toujours mon bébé.

  One

  Warm summer sunshine speckled through the forest leaves, adding a carefree feel to the day as the young couple drove their black Saab down the gravel country lane. They couldn’t help but feel the history of the quaint town as they meandered through the back roads. Houses were few and far between in Rogue’s Hollow, with a whopping population of seventy-nine. Most people who lived there were old-timers with deep family roots to the area. There wasn’t much left to entice the younger generation…except for the ghosts.

  The Old Mill General Store was just that, an old mill that had been converted into a general store many years ago. An uneven cobblestone drive led the visitors’ dust-covered car to the mill which sat tucked away in a hollow around a small bend. Silver Creek, which once powered the Chidester Mill, still rushed alongside with great force.

  The rickety wooden bridge over the creek was in dire need of repair, if not complete replacement. Most disregarded the uneven, hand-painted sign beside it that read, “Kindly Cross This Bridge at a Walk.” Cars would zip over the bridge, causing the old planks to bend and moan as the vehicles thrust themselves upon it.

  As the couple rounded the bend they smiled at the scene unfolding before their eyes. Sunrays streamed through the trees, welcoming them to the old mill. They couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was in the hollow. It was nothing like Cleveland, where they were from. The silence was surprisingly unnerving to them and the bugs were quite a nuisance to the young lady. She feverishly waved them off as though she was being attacked by a plague of locusts.

  The general store stood tall and proud in a grassy opening just beyond the bridge, completely oblivious to its peeling paint and filthy window panes. The old mill’s paddle wheel lay broken in several pieces alongside the building and vines grew up the sides making useful nooks for birds to build nests underneath the eaves.

  Sixty-six year old Malachi Chidester ran the general store. With stark white hair and piercing blue eyes, his friendly disposition and unforced smile naturally put folks at ease. Tourists stopped at the store out of curiosity, but lingered mostly because of Malachi’s hospitality.

  He worked by himself in the store, usually from sun up to sun down. His pace had slowed dramatically in the last few years. Life was catching up with him, but as tired as his bones were growing, he never lost his smile or the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  He came from a long line of mill workers and was no stranger to a hard day’s work. Malachi’s mother, Norma, had run the woolen mill built by her great-grandfather until the doors closed in the mid 1950’s. The workers were relieved of their duties and Norma was left behind with no job, no husband, and a ten-year-old son to feed. Most of the town picked up and left when the mill closed, but some were deeply connected to the area and decided to stay, including Norma and Malachi.

  Norma discovered that the folks left behind were desperate for local goods from neighboring towns, so she took a chance and opened up a small general store. She didn’t earn much money, but it was enough to make ends meet. Malachi was raised at the old mill and it was all he’d ever known. When Norma succumbed to cancer in 1983, Malachi took over as the store’s sole proprietor.

  Malachi tried to keep up, but age was beginning to slow him down. The large wooden planks on the floor were in need of a thorough sweeping. Dust settled into the cracks and the polyurethane shine had long faded and been worn-off by foot traffic. Sunlight desperately attempted to peek in through the windows, but the thick layer of dust held it at bay. Cobwebs clung to the light fixtures and in every nook and cranny. Malachi detached them with an old straw broom, but by morning light, they were back again. After a while he gave up and admitted defeat.

  The couple stood beside their car for a moment, almost afraid to venture into the old store. The young man, Jared, leaned against his Saab and shook his head, mumbling, “I had no idea places like this still existed. It feels like we’ve stepped back in time or something.”

  His girlfriend, Eliza, was not amused by his casual curiosity and replied, “In or out Jared? These bugs are eating me alive!”

  He smiled at her continuously flailing arms, grabbed her hand and led her towards the old mill.

  The young city couple wandered into the country store and was greeted by Malachi’s voice from behind the counter, “Welcome to the Old Mill General Store, folks. Where strangers are just friends we’ve yet to meet.” His chipper demeanor made the couple smile as he stepped out from behind a display board advertising rainbow Twizzlers. “Anything specific I can help you folks with today?”

  The tourists found the old man endearing. “Hello there, old timer,” Jared replied. “We were just passing through and thought we’d stop in for a blast from the past, if you know what I mean?”

  “That I do, young sir. We’re a bit of an enigma around these parts. Help yourselves, take your time and feel free to look around.” With a twinkle in his sparkling blue eyes, Malachi pointed to his left and continued, “We have a room over yonder loaded with hollow history, if you’re so inclined. Let me know if you have questions or need anything at all.”

  The sun-tanned, manicured couple nodded and began perusing the aisles that were loaded with treats and trinkets from days gone by. They pointed out oddities like horehound candy and persimmon popsicles and then spent a little time in the history room. Picking up a few items for sampling, they eventually made their way to the front counter.

  “You folks find everything okay?”

  They both snickered. “We found things that we never knew existed,” Jared replied as he paid for their items. “Quite a history this area has.”

  Malachi nodded. “That it does. It was a home base for reformists who fought for religious freedom back in the day, but somehow darkness invaded shortly after. Personally, I believe the devil tries extra hard to take down those who
have the strongest faith. He’s been after this little hollow for centuries now.”

  Jared grinned. “Do you really believe that?”

  Malachi leaned in close and looked around like he was letting them in on a secret and then whispered, “Seen it with my own eyes.” He stood up straight and continued bagging up their items. “Let’s just say that folks ‘round here don’t go outside much after dark. Something evil lurks in the shadows. It’s a portal, you know.”

  Jared shook his head. “A portal? To what?”

  “To the other side.” Malachi said somberly.

  Jared looked at Eliza and winked.

  Malachi furrowed his brow and took a deep breath. “Don’t believe me? Stick around till dark and see for yourselves. But, if you do, you’d better get yourself an amulet from the basket over there. They’ve saved many a traveler’s weary soul.”

  Eliza wrinkled her nose. “What’s an amulet?”

  Malachi looked at them with utmost seriousness. “An amulet is a sacred local artifact that will give you protection against the evil that lurks in the night. You might hear them, and maybe even see them, but they won’t bother you if you have a hallowed shield. The amulet is your only defense against the darkness.”

  She smiled and condescendingly replied, “Well then, I suppose we must have one.” She winked at Jared. “Just to be on the safe side.” Looking into the basket, she asked Malachi, “They’re all so different. How do I pick the right one?”

  “Follow your heart, young lady. The precise one will speak to you.” Malachi took a deep breath as his senses became overwhelmed with the smell of her coconut suntan oil. He smiled, trying to remember what it felt like to be young and free-spirited like them. It had been so long ago that it seemed like another lifetime.

  After some consideration, she chose one in the shape of a twisted cross. Laying it on the counter, she shrugged. “Looks as good as any.”

  Malachi inspected it and nodded. “That’s a keeper, that one is. Here, let me give it an angel kiss for you, to give you extra protection from the dark side.” Pulling a bottle of elixir marked ‘angel blessing’ from under the counter, he removed a tiny brush and ever so lightly touched the twisted cross with the liquid, which quickly soaked into the wood. Malachi placed it gently into a small bag and handed it to her with a smile. “That will do just fine. That’ll be five dollars, please.”

  While Jared had his Italian leather wallet out, Malachi continued, “Would you folks be interested in a guide book about Rogue’s Hollow? It tells you all the legends and even has a map showing you where to find the most haunted places. I will make you a deal. You can have the amulet and book for ten dollars total.”

  Eliza nodded at Jared with a pleading expression on her face. Even though it was pretty clear that the city girl didn’t believe a word Malachi was telling her, she still held the amulet bag tightly in her hand. “Thank you,” she said with a smile as Jared paid the tab, shaking his head.

  “It’s all good,” Malachi replied, with a wink of his blue eyes. “Stop back and see me again, folks. And, remember to be careful out there if you plan to stay after dark. They sneak up on you out of the darkness. Set that amulet aside, unless you feel a need for it and then hold it very close. It’ll work wonders and protect you.”

  Malachi watched from behind a dusty window pane as they left the store. Adjusting their designer sunglasses, they sped off oblivious to the evil that lurked in the hills. If they only knew the real history of Rogue’s Hollow.

  Malachi was the truth keeper of the documentation describing decades of secret horrors that had occurred on these sacred grounds. He kept it securely hidden away in his basement at the Old Mill General Store. No other living person had ever laid eyes on The Book of Truth except him and he intended to keep it that way.

  As the couple drove off out of sight, Malachi’s attention was drawn to a beautiful songbird. He stepped outside and searched the trees for the songstress, but his aging eyes were slowly letting him down.

  He listened to the lovely tune, removed a pair of reading glasses from his chest pocket and began tending to his prized possession, an Angel’s Trumpet bush. He’d cared for this glorious plant for years, dragging it indoors throughout the harsh Ohio winters and back outside to soak up the summertime sun. The long, lavender, trumpet-like flowers hung gracefully from the shrub in large clusters. It was quite a sight to behold and was Malachi’s pride and joy.

  His peaceful concentration was broken when a car roared up behind him and slammed on the brakes, creating a cloud of dust in its wake. The door flew open and out she raged. “Malachi Chidester, why do you insist on stirring stuff up ‘round here and encouraging this nonsense?”

  He removed his glasses and placed them neatly back into the chest pocket of his checkered flannel shirt and replied, “Hello, Roberta. Good to see you, too. And, I have absolutely no idea as to what you are referring.”

  The crotchety woman with wind-blown hair inched closer to Malachi and shook her finger at him. “Don’t you play Mr. Innocent with me. I saw them. I just passed them at Witch’s Bend.”

  “Passed who, Roberta?”

  “Them yuppies in their sports car. I saw it, Malachi. She was reading one of your legend books when they almost drove me off the road.”

  Malachi tried to quiet the situation as he calmly went back to tending to his plant. “It’s a free country. They can read whatever they like, I suppose. There’s no law against it, Roberta.”

  “Malachi, you know the locals don’t like you stirring up the tourists and drawin’ them here. They damage property and are a nuisance. There’s simply no need for it.”

  “I have a need to run a business here. I have a need to eat and pay my electric bill. If folks want to buy those books, I’m not going to turn down their money. I’m sorry if some people don’t like it, but tourists are going to come here no matter what. I am simply providing them a service. This way they don’t have to search and hunt for the haunted spots. They can get in and out quicker and that has to make the locals happy, right?”

  She scowled and snapped at him. “Oh, please. You and I both know that’s not true. I spend a good portion of my Sundays picking up their beer cans and trash. Let alone trying to remove the obnoxious spray paint from Cry Baby Bridge!”

  “Roberta, we both know that most of that is from the local kids, not the tourists.” Trying to soften the edges, he removed his glasses and smiled at her. “I’m just trying to keep this general store and the old town on the map. I mean no harm.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “I know that. I just get frustrated with these kids nowadays. They have no respect anymore. Malachi, even after everything you’ve been through, you still cater to the visitors. Why?”

  He patted her shoulder. “That was a long time ago, and it was an accident, plain and simple. I try not to hold grudges. And I couldn’t agree with you more, it’s a real shame the direction our country’s youth are headed.” He held her eye contact for a moment and looked at her with kindness. “Want to come in for a glass of iced tea?”

  She shook her head and grinned. “You make it so hard to be angry with you, Malachi Chidester.” She threw her hands up. “I’d like to, but I gotta get these groceries in the freezer. Can I take a rain check?”

  As she turned and headed back to her car, she commented, “Hey, your plant looks great. Still using that Miracle Grow stuff on it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That and some fire ash. Works like a charm.”

  “You’re a character. Take it easy and be careful out here, okay?”

  Malachi nodded. “Will do. Thanks for your concern, neighbor.”

  With a crooked smile, she shook her head, returned to her car and drove off down the cobblestone lane at a much slower pace than she’d entered. The rickety old bridge creaked and moaned and then she disappeared from sight, leaving Malachi alone with his beautiful flowers and his thoughts.

  As he tended to his angel, his heart grew heavy. It stil
l hurt to think about it, even after all these years. Taking a deep breath, he blew air forcefully out of his pursed lips with a heavy sigh. “It was just an accident,” he said trying to reassure himself as he made his way back inside to fix supper.

  The moment he reached the front door, a beagle appeared at his feet. “Well, hello, Mr. Baxter. It’s been a while, my friend. Would you like to come in and have a snack with me?”

  Malachi grabbed a few slices of cold cut turkey for the dog. Baxter inhaled them as he intently watched Malachi’s every move. He patted the dog on the head and had just sat down with his peanut butter and banana sandwich when he heard the cowbell on the door ring, signifying the entrance of a customer. Baxter ran anxiously around in circles.

  Malachi slowly rose from his tiny, two-seat dining table and quietly entered the store. He rounded the corner just in time to see a red-headed young man shove a candy bar into his jacket pocket, while his two friends looked on and laughed.

  “What can I do for you boys today?” Malachi said, startling them.

  The thieving teenager replied, “Nothing. Just leave us be and let us browse in peace, old man.” One of the other boys snickered and turned his back.

  Malachi made his way to the counter and found a stool to sit on while he waited. He watched them attentively as they wandered up and down the candy aisle. He’d seen the red-headed boy in here a time or two before and knew his type all too well. They were some of the hell raisers, the ones that damaged property and caused strife with the locals. He recognized the chubby ring leader with the scar across his cheek. Squinting to see clearly, he also remembered the other boy with the dragon tattoo on his arm and the lip piercing, but he didn’t recall the third kid. He wasn’t a familiar face with this crowd.