In Your Face Horror (Chamber Of Horror Series)

by Billy Wells

  “I don’t get it either,” Orville agreed. “It even has a stream running through the property. I think the Joneses were just too old to work it, and a property this big demands a lot of attention.”

  “We have Tim and Bobby to help us, which gives us an edge. Right, fellas?”

  “Right!” the boys answered in harmony and rolled their eyes.

  The Millers couldn’t wait to get to their new home and start what they hoped would be a wonderful, new life in which they would prosper like they never had before.

  That afternoon, the movers arrived and carried their meager belongings into their new home. The next day, they wasted no time beginning to till the land and plant seeds for the autumn harvest. Orville worked harder than he ever had, and even though the effort of running irrigation hookups from the nearby stream was backbreaking, he completed the task with a fury.

  On the second week of tilling, Orville uncovered an ax that was buried just below the topsoil level not far from the farmhouse. He picked it up and inspected the blade, which was incredibly sharp. Although it appeared very old, the ax was in remarkable condition for being buried in the ground. Orville saw writing engraved on the back of the blade, but it was too worn to read. He placed the ax in a temporary outbuilding and resumed his daily chores.

  After several months of unsuccessful planting, Orville decided to build the barn on the site where the ax was found since nothing they planted would grow there. He enlisted the help of several neighbors on the project in exchange for assisting them when they needed a hand with their crops.

  After the first day’s hard work was over, Orville and his neighbors sat on the porch to have a beer and shoot the bull before supper.

  After a long pull, Brad Peavy, a crusty, old codger who reminded Orville of Slim Pickens, drawled as he soothed his sunburned back with a cold, wet handkerchief: “Orville, I hope you did the right thing buying this place. It sure looks like a good piece of land for farming, but something’s not right. There’s a funny smell in the air, and it ain’t manure. Old Mr. Jones sat right on this very front porch and told me time and again over many a bottle of Bud that nothing would grow in this spot no matter how many times he planted.” He picked up a handful of topsoil and let it spill through his fingers.

  Jed Flanders, another neighbor who came to help on the project, slapped his neck where a fly had just landed. “And where do these damned horseflies come from? I’m just across the holler, and they’re not over there pestering me.”

  Orville paused for a time, and after making sure Tim and Bobby were out of earshot, he grimaced and said, “I wish I had talked to all of you before I bought this property, but, hey, it’s water over the dam now. I’m beginning to have some luck with corn on the North Fork, and this spot where nothing will grow, no matter the reason, is a perfect place for the barn. I’m looking into a bug wacker, maybe two, to take care of the flies.” He bowed slightly and began to whisper, “Don’t speak too loud when Pam and the boys are around; they get spooked when they hear the stories the city folk tell about this place at the Laundromat and at school. Bobby has been having bad dreams almost every night. Pam keeps hearing strange noises in the walls, but each time I look for a varmint, I can’t find any.”

  Leroy Miller, a neighbor with a patch over one eye, pointed toward the ax hanging from some nails on the A-frame. “And what about that ax? Have you ever seen a blade that sharp on an ax? I haven’t. Hell. I’ll go you one better. I’ve never seen a machine that could make an ax that sharp.”

  “Come on, fellas! Cut me some slack. I found the ax buried in the field. Maybe it belonged to Ponce de Leon or one of those Italian explorers. Maybe I found Excalibur in a cow pile. It leaves me alone, and I leave it alone. Maybe it will come in handy when I clear the woods at Possum Point.” Orville trailed off, hoping to change the subject.

  They all chuckled at Orville’s response, but the mystery still lingered in all their minds. Each new day increased their uneasiness.

  In another week, the barn was finished, and Orville’s neighbors were glad to stop working on his property. The bad smell had gotten progressively worse. Orville had tried several remedies he found at the garden shop that were supposed to combat bad odors; consequently, the pungent smell of mothballs began to hide, or at least diminish, the horrible dead smell that lingered about the property.

  Several days later, Orville saw the ax embedded in a stump next to the barn. He called for the boys, who were busy doing their chores nearby, and they came running.

  “Who knows why the ax is down from its place in the barn?” Orville questioned.

  “I took it down when I noticed the inscription on the blade had changed,” Tim explained like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I wanted to show it to you, but I got sidetracked when I had to milk the cows. I left it on the stump.”

  “That’s OK, Son. I just wondered why it was there. The blade is so sharp. I’m afraid for you to use it.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. I don’t care if I ever touch it again. I wish we would get rid of the scary thing. I just wondered if you saw how the inscription has changed,” Tim explained.

  “What do you mean the inscription has changed?” Bobby said as he looked toward the ax in the stump.

  “You can read the inscription now. And the blade is getting shinier and, believe it or not, sharper. You don’t have to slide your finger down the blade for it to cut you. It will cut you if you lay your finger on the blade. It’s that sharp.”

  “You must be having another bad dream, Son. What you are saying is impossible.”

  “Take a look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  Orville made a beeline to the ax and extracted it effortlessly from the oak stump. He turned it over and looked at it like he had never seen it before. Etched into the blade was the date, October 31, 1697. He couldn’t look at it in the bright sunlight; the brilliance hurt his eyes. It was flawless. He stood and removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and let it freefall across the blade. Soundlessly, it separated into two pieces that each floated to the surface of the stump.

  They stared at each other in disbelief at what they had seen, but no one said a word. The cool breath of autumn raised the hairs on Orville’s neck. Finally, he placed the ax back where it had been mounted in the barn.

  The three of them rushed into the farmhouse to tell Pam about the strange metamorphosis that had taken place with the ax. Not finding her in the kitchen, they moved to the living room. Pam sat in a daze with a large sewing needle protruding from her finger. Blood had covered the knee of the blue jeans she was mending and had dripped down, making a large wet stain on the rug.

  Orville gasped, and the boys ran screaming to her side. Her eyes were open and staring into space. Orville shook her violently, and she began to come around. Seeing the blood all over the blue jeans and the rug, she began to scream uncontrollably. Orville spent the next half hour trying to settle her down and find out what had happened.

  Pam had no memory of sticking the needle in her finger and couldn’t explain why she felt no pain. Later that evening, everything had returned to normal, and the four of them sat in silence at the dinner table thinking about the needle, the blood, and the ax.

  “Orville,” Pam began, “I know you had your heart set on this place, but something is not right here. I fear if we stay, something bad is going to happen.”

  “What are you talking about?” Orville countered. “I admit there have been some strange things going on, but nothing bad has happened to any of us until you fell asleep and stuck yourself with that needle.”

  “Orville Miller,” Pam fumed, “don’t sit there and tell me I stuck myself with that needle and didn’t feel it. You know better than that. It was like I was hypnotized, not asleep.”

  “Dad,” Bobby piped in, “can’t you see something bad is living here with us? Can’t you feel it? How do you explain the date on the ax? Every day, the date gets clearer, and the blade gets sharper.
”

  “I believe the ax is an omen,” Pam said. “It’s telling us that something bad is going to happen on Halloween, which is only ten days away. The date on the ax is October 31, 1697. Is it a coincidence that this Halloween will be three hundred years after that date? Orville, I don’t want any of us to be here on that day. Let’s visit my mother for a few days until Halloween is over.”

  “Pam, I can’t explain the things that have happened, but you must face the facts, nothing bad has happened to any of us or the livestock. I can’t just pick up and leave the animals without food and water, and I can’t ask the neighbors to take care of them for no reason.”

  Pam shook her head and left the room crying. The boys looked at each other in disbelief that their father still didn’t want to leave even after their mother’s unexplained trance and the frightening episode with the ax.

  As each day passed and Halloween grew nearer, the barn began to smell as if all the horses that were housed there had died and their flesh was rotting in their stalls. The horseflies were even bigger and more aggressive than before as they swarmed over everything. They were buzzing like bees on every windowpane. Each time Tim and Bobby made a trip to the barn, they had to cover themselves from head to toe with burlap to protect them from the unforgiving onslaught of flies. On October 26, they found the horses and chickens dead in pools of maggots on the barn floor. The stench was unbearable.

  The loss of the livestock had finally pushed Orville over the edge. It was time to get his family out of there, at least until after Halloween. They hurriedly packed a bag and left everything they had saved for all their lives and departed in the Dodge station wagon. A swarm of big black horseflies covered the car windows as Orville sped away from the farmhouse down the gravel road that led to Ipswich.

  The Millers arrived in Ipswich, which was truly a refreshing change. They decided to go to the mall in hopes they could find something other than the farm to think about for a time. This world was bright and cheerful. People were laughing and talking. Everything seemed normal once again.

  “Orville,” Pam said as the four of them huddled around a table in the food court, “let’s cut our losses and forget the farm. We can move in with my dad until we can get our feet back on the ground.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing: Everything we have is tied up in the farm, and the bank is going to foreclose if we don’t pay the mortgage. We’ll never be able to sell the farm to anyone in the state it’s in. We’ll be bankrupt, and our credit will be shot for years.”

  “I’d rather be bankrupt than dead. Something bad is going to happen, and I don’t want to be there when it does. The children aren’t safe there, and you know it.” Pam started to cry.

  “Dad, please don’t make us go back. We’re afraid. Our animals are dead, and what killed them will surely kill us if we go back,” Bobby wailed.

  “You don’t have to go back,” Orville said. “I wouldn’t do anything to put any of you in harm’s way.”

  Orville put his arms around Pam and the kids to comfort them as the thought of losing everything weighed heavily on his mind.

  “Don’t cry, honey. I need to think this thing over. Let’s go to Herb’s place. Maybe we’ll come up with something.”

  The boys were silent, but relieved that returning to the farm was on hold for the time being.

  After consoling Pam and the kids for a time, they returned to the station wagon and headed for Pam’s father’s house on the other side of town.

  Later that evening, Orville had a beer with Herb, Pam’s father, on the back porch. Pam and the boys were inside watching TV.

  “I’ve never heard of anything like this in all my days. It sounds like something out of the Bible, like a prophecy of some kind. There’s been so much strange stuff lately—hurricanes, earthquakes, tornados, mysterious plane crashes, ships disappearing. I heard a couple of meteors just missed us in the last few months, and all the astronomers with all their fancy telescopes didn’t know the meteors were out there until they were past us for three or four days.”

  “Well, Herb, it sounds like the man upstairs didn’t think it was time to call in his markers. Think of all the soothsayers that have been predicting the end of the world since time began. Each time the day comes they have predicted and nothing happens, they change to another day. I understand that millions of books have been sold to people who like to read about how close we are to obliteration.”

  “I’ve got one of those books in my bookcase right now—Kiss Your Ass Goodbye.”

  “You wasted your money on that gibberish.”

  “Maybe so, but it was something to pass the time.”

  “Did you feel better after you read it?”

  “Maybe not better, but it did hold my interest.”

  “Did the author set a date for Armageddon?”

  “I don’t think he had a specific day. He just said the signs were pointing to someday soon.”

  “He was a smart man. He didn’t give himself a way to make a total fool of himself.”

  “Well, how do you explain what’s happening at the farm?”

  “I can’t explain it. But I’m not going to give up on all I’ve worked for without a fight.”

  “How are you gonna fight something you can’t see?”

  “All I know is something happened October 31, 1697, and from all indications, it’s going to happen again this Friday. I need to do some research on the matter. Maybe the library is a place to start.”

  “For a man who doesn’t believe in Armageddon, it sounds like you’re becoming a believer.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t believe in the devil.”

  He finished the last swallow of beer and went to bed.

  The next morning, bright and early, Orville left Pam and the kids with Herb and drove into Ipswich. He arrived just as the library was opening at 9:00 a.m.

  He queried the computer database about the history of the town in every way he could think of, but his unfamiliarity with the library filing system made research difficult. He was getting nowhere after struggling for almost two hours.

  He went to the desk where the staff was checking in books and asked if they could recommend an approach to finding out what happened in the Ipswich area in 1697.

  A thin elderly lady with a little too much makeup and too long a hairdo for her age suggested speaking with Professor Gardner, who taught history at the high school until he retired. She pointed to a bespectacled elderly man with snow-white hair who was browsing through the magazine rack.

  Orville thanked the lady and approached Gardner, who gave him a pleasant smile and adjusted his glasses as Orville started to speak, “Professor Gardner, the lady at the desk said you might be able to help me. Do you have a moment?”

  “Son, I hope I have more than a moment, but at my age you never know.” He smiled warmly as he dispensed the magazines and took a chair at the closest table.

  Orville sat down next to him and gathered his thoughts a bit before speaking. “Professor Gardner…”

  “Feel free to call me Hank.”

  “Hank,” said Orville, “I desperately need to find out what happened in these parts in 1697. Could you suggest what book I should look at or someone I can talk to that can shed some light on something that long ago.”

  “Do you mean the Ipswich area specifically?” The old man scratched his head and looked at Orville with warm curiosity.

  “I bought a farm in what they call the North Fork area of Ipswich, and I found an ax buried in the ground when we were tilling that has the date October 31, 1697, etched into the blade.” Orville paused, thinking how insane what he was about to say would sound, then continued, “It’s a long story, too fantastic for me to even tell you without you thinking I’ve lost my marbles, but—”

  “Slow down, Son. Take it easy. I think you’ve come to the right person, if I do say so myself. I might be the only one around this town who can help you. The only thing of historical note that occurred around
here that year was the execution of an alleged warlock who placed a curse on all the ancestors who were present when he was burned at the stake.”

  “You know about it?”

  “Well, Son, when you teach history for forty years, you kind of get interested in finding out the history of where you live just in case someone asks. When I started teaching, I researched the history of this town as far back as when William Henry founded it in 1632. Not much that would tickle anyone’s fancy occurred until the witch trials started in the eighties. I’ll bet you didn’t know that seventeen women were tortured and executed as witches right where the town square stands today. Innocent people were accused, prosecuted, and condemned to torture and death at the whim of the magistrates who were in power at the time. Mostly women who didn’t suit the masses for whatever reason were singled out and accused of consorting with the devil. After we tortured the poor souls until they confessed to things they’d never done, we hanged them or burned them in a public execution for every man, woman, and child to see.”

  “That is interesting, but you mentioned a warlock. Is that like the boogeyman? A troll? It’s just a character in folklore, isn’t it?”

  “A warlock is a male version of the witch. It was an evil man who consorted with the devil. He sold his soul in exchange for the promise of eternal life or illimitable dominion over mankind. Keep in mind that vampires, werewolves, and all kinds of monsters were taken much more seriously in the old days than today. Most people were extremely superstitious and lived their life in fear of things that go bump in the night.”

  “But there’s no such thing as vampires and werewolves.”

  “That’s my opinion.”

  “Was even one woman killed for witchcraft that anyone proved was really a witch?”

  “There were plenty of so-called eyewitness accounts of witchcraft and consorting with the devil, but after the lawmakers finally required hard evidence to substantiate unfounded accusations, the last witch was set free. That was three hundred years ago.”