by Cat Knight
As quick as her wits had left her, they returned. Gasping with the shock and still running on an adrenaline surge, hot fire pulsed through Joanne and she spat angry words out.
“What are you doing in my room?” Every muscle was tensed up, ready for fight. She waited for the girl to jump back or try to hit out, or even threaten her but she didn’t move or seem to see Joanne. “Listen, weirdo. I don’t know what you want, but I’m warning you. Get out of my room!”
A sudden brilliant light illuminated the wooded area outside of her bedroom window right before the rumbling thunder started up again.
An ear-splitting crack, resounded through the woods and the screech of a tree limb splitting, echoed loudly. As it hit the ground the crack of its breaking limbs momentarily took Joanne’s attention.
The fury toward the stranger who invaded her room must’ve come out in her voice and frightened the girl away because when Joanne turned back she was gone. She’s quick, I’ll give her that. Jumping from her bed, Joanne scanned the room and opened her bedroom door searching the hallway. As the storm raged the lights flickered and cast strange shadows.
But even in the dimness Joanne could see the hallway was clearly empty, and it was dry. As wet as that girl was, surely there would have been some traces of water.
Shivering against the unexpected cold and retreating into her room, she locked her door for safety.
As she turned around, surveying her safe place, thoughts began to form, and dread trickled into her mind. The hair on her arms rose high. The girl didn’t seem to be in the room, but she hadn’t been in the hallway. So, where was she? Fumbling at the door with her hands behind her back, and still facing the room, she unlocked the bedroom door again, just in case she needed a quick exit. But there weren’t too many places a person could hide. Maybe she’s in the closet.
Moving softly forward she flung the door open revealing a completely vacant space. Since Joanne hadn’t had a chance to unpack, everything she owned was still stuck in her suitcase or backpack. Walking back to the wall and around to the door she bent down and looked under the bed. By the light of the moon, she could see that no-one was there, except that from the vantage point of the floor, silvery beams reflected off a shallow trail of water all the way from the foot of the bed back toward the window.
A worried frown creased between her eyebrows. The relief she had felt that her room was empty gave way to a mix of confusion and fear. Shivers ran over her spine. A terrible feeling that she was being watched from somewhere in the room unnerved her. But she knew that wasn’t possible, no one could be the room. I can see everything.
Forcing herself up from the floor and willing her feet to move she made her way toward the window. Whoever that girl was, it would have been impossible to get out the window unseen.
But someone left that line of water. Peering into the night anyway, and looking out to the yard below, the night sky illuminated a rundown building near the garden.
Beyond it a pond stretched across half the property.
Another flash of lightning caused Joanne to jump and take in a huge gulp of breath. Someone was moving around outside. The girl was walking through the garden towards the pond.
Joanne didn’t even notice that she was holding her breath as she watched the girl make her way across to the pond, stopping at the water’s edge to sit in the pouring rain. The moonlight rays shone on the girl showing a deathly pale, apparition like form. Joanne felt a queasiness start up in side. Who are you? She almost jumped when the strange girl turned her head sharply and lifted her gaze towards Joanne’s window
Chapter Three
Another bolt of lightning flashed across the window momentarily blinding Joanne’s sight. When it stopped, the girl was gone. Joanne stood motionless in shock. Prising her fingers from the window sill and taking deliberately even breaths Joanne returned to her bed. Lying flat on her back, shaking and listening for every sound she heard nothing but the storm. A random thought ran across her mind that the enjoyment of storms would be ruined forever after tonight.
As the minutes ticked by Joanne reasoned and calmed herself. It wasn’t as weird as it seemed. This was a prank, or a test. The things some people will do. Anger began to replace fear and soon Joanne was bubbling with it. Thoughts whizzed around her head and she second guessed herself until she made sense of everything.
Foster kids will do anything to get the upper-hand and get control. It was either a dare, or, they’re trying to intimidate me and get me to cower. If I show any fear, that will be it, I’ll be dead meat. Tomorrow, I’ll take care of it.
Turning over and once more pulling the blankets tight around her neck she listened to the rhythmic drum of the rain on the roof and allowed it to lull her into a shallow sleep.
At breakfast time Joanne was tired, cranky and completely ready for battle.
Exhausted, she had overslept and almost missed breakfast. She slipped into her seat with only a minute to spare. Weaver gave her a scathing look.
“Kind of you to join us, Ms. Williams. Please take your seat.” He nodded to the chair next to him. A plump girl with dark hair that bobbed just at her neck sate directly opposite and she whispered quietly to the girl sitting next her.
Joanne could guess what she was saying. A lot of people thought she was a boy at first. She sometimes wondered if she should grow her hair longer and maybe jazz up its light brown colour with some highlights, but truthfully, she really didn’t care that much.
The girl gave her a sour smirk but pulled it to a sweet smile just in time for Weaver to see.
“This will be your seat from now on. Things in this household are orderly and respectful. Seating is assigned to prevent any discordance at the table.” He nodded toward a small mousy girl next to the plump one. “Please say hello to Evette and, to Jasmine.”
“Hello.” Joanne looked to the side of them and showed no friendliness in her voice.
They barely glanced at her either, but Evette managed to give a tight quick smile and tossed the plat that had fallen over her shoulder back to its proper position at her back.
Weaver placed his hands on the table and formed a tent with them.
“Now that we are gathered, we’ll thank the Good Lord for his many Blessings. Bow your heads.”
Joanne bowed her head and looked under the slits of her eyelids at the other girls who were doing the same to her. Mercifully Weaver said only a few words of thanks before digging his fork into a pile of bacon.
“Are these the only others? The only other foster kids I mean?” Weaver regarded her through his nose and cleared his throat.
“I believe an apology to all of us is owed for your tardiness. On your first day, I would think you want to make a better impression than you have thus far. But yes, to answer your question, there are the three of you. And you have all been placed in my care for a reason. Best not to forget what that reason is.”
The word ‘wanker’ was floating around her tongue, but instead she Joanne breathed in deeply and apologised. “I’m very sorry for my tardiness. It won’t happen again, Sir.”
“Yes, Joanne,” Evette cooed. “We would just hate to have you miss breakfast.” She nudged her cohort in the arm.
“That would be a shame,” Jasmine echoed as she took a scoop of eggs.
Joanne glared at the girls. It had to have been one of them in her room last night, and it must’ve been Evette. Jasmine was too tall, and overall, she was too big. The figure she had seen was slight.
Planting a smile on her face and in her voice, she trilled,
“It’s grand to meet you both. I’ll bet we’ll all get along like a house on fire. Did you sleep well? I slept so deeply last night. That’s why I was late down.” Weaver stood up and turned to the sideboard to pour his coffee.
“Should we call you Joe? You look like a Joe to me.” Jasmine whispered and Evette joined her in a giggle.
Joanne lifted herself forward toward the middle of the table and grabbed the salt and pe
pper. As she returned to her chair she leaned into Evette and whispered.
“Hey plug ugly, if you EVER come into my room again I will beat you to a fucking pulp.” Evette audibly gasped and stared at Joanne, her eyes wide. The colour drained from her face. The girl turned her head to Jasmine and murmured
“She’s seen her too.”
“Oh, give it up.” Joanne sneered.
“What’s that?” Weaver turned his enquiring face to them. “Have you got secrets to tell us?”
“No Sir. There are no secrets in this house.” Joanne’s eyes were burning fire and struggled to keep the attitude out of her voice, but she thought she’d managed it.
“Whispering is a sign of disrespect to myself and to each other. Lack of respect and unruliness is just one of the reasons
you find yourself in my care. None of you are in any position to criticise any one. There won’t be any-more whispers and I expect you all to get along.” He didn’t even look at Jasmine or Evette, but they shrank from his reprimand.
Mr. Weaver looked over their heads into the large mirror and smoothed his grey hair at the sides before sitting down beside her and placing his napkin on his lap. Tapping the salt shaker precisely three times, and then repeating the action with the pepper, he sprinkled the seasonings over his omelette. Joanne took a sip of orange juice to conceal her contempt of the situation and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes had dark rings under them, but that was no wonder.
She could see the entire table with the aid of the mirror. Jasmine and Evette, although leery of Mr. Weaver, seemed to draw strength from each other. Joanne wondered what it would be like to have a close friend to confide in and share secrets with. They seemed almost normal. Mr. Weaver certainly wasn’t normal, but he was confident and arrogant, something about him demanded attention and obedience.
More than that, he was forceful. Joanne hated that she needed to comply with his rules so exactly, but she had to.
Things could turn really nasty if she didn’t. Getting a feel for people was something you developed quickly in the system, and he scared her. That on its own was worrying because it was hard to do. But this is my last chance. So, she poked around her plate of eggs, making it seem as though she was eating, but all the while keeping a weather eye on him.
Glancing up into the mirror to check on him covertly she gasped in horror.
Because the girl from last night was standing right behind her, dripping wet. Her eyes were cold and dead, the face seemed vacant. Springing up from the chair Joanne knocked over her juice and turned around to look behind her; nothing was there. The orange juice spilled over the table and ran onto the floor.
Joanne watched the liquid flow along the hardboards to merge with puddles of water right behind her chair.
“Ms. Williams.”
Joanne visibly jumped, she picked up her glass with trembling hands.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened.” Her voice was quivering. If he noticed her demeanour, his caustic tone told her he didn’t care what caused her to spill her glass.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees. Ms. Williams. Perhaps water will suit you better from now on. Clean up that mess.”
Turning around toward the kitchen to collect a mop and bucket she noticed that Evette and Jasmine were holding onto each other.
Chapter Four
Despite the heat that was beginning to radiate from the morning sun, Joanne’s canvas sneakers were soaked through the toes with dew as she made her way to the gardening shed. The door was already open and a man older than Mr. Weaver, but wearing dirty overalls instead of a dark suit, was gathering tools.
“Are you Mr. James?” Joanne asked, squinting into the sun that was just behind his head.
“Yep. Friends call me Dan. Who might you be?” He didn’t break the rhythm of his routine which caused Joanne to follow him as she answered him.
“I’m Joanne.” He looked at her sideways. “Joanne Williams. Mr. Weaver sent me out to help you today?” It was more of a question than a statement.
Dan grinned, his brown eyes flickered with a ‘here we go again’ look. “He’s just like his old man. I’ve always been the favourite punishment around here.” He rubbed the grey stubble that was sprouting from his cheeks.
“What’d do to set him off? Sneeze out the wrong side of your mouth?” He winked to invite her into the joke.
She loosened up a bit. “I made a mess at breakfast. I thought I saw something and I jumped. Guess I'm just not used to the place yet.”
“Sweetheart, if you get used to that dark den you’ve got more problems than you know. I’ve only been in that place once or twice and it spooked me every time. Get a hold of that shovel over there and get the rake too.” He threw some weeds in a pile the ground. “Grab some gloves and follow me.”
Joanne did as she was told and followed Dan to the garden between the main house and the smaller stone structure.
He assigned her a patch of azaleas to weed. “Listen here, luv. You see them big yellow, white, and pink flowers hanging down?” A stand of flowering trees in full bloom was providing a magnificent show of colour.
“Yeah, they’re pretty.”
“I’ll give you that, they are. But everything about them plants is poisonous. Don’t touch ‘em without gloves and always wash up if you ever are around ‘em.”
Joanne smirked from the corners of her mouth at his emphatic statements. No way could those things hurt anyone. He grabbed her by the arm.
“Think I’m having a lend of ya do ya? I’m not kidding.” He let her arm go and shook his head disbelievingly. “Damn foolish to have those things growing in a place crawling with kids, but they been here since the family built this place. Even before the old man started up the orphanage.”
I’m giving you the same warning. I give to all the kids who end up out here with me. You mind what I’m tellin' ya.” He gave her a hard look, “Steer clear of the Angel’s Trumpets.”
“Angel’s trumpet?” Joanne’s voice was curious.
“Yep, that’s what they’re called. Innocent name isn’t it. But it’s angels who’ll be playing for ya if you get too close. Just remember that.”
She nodded. “OK, I got it.” And turned around to begin weeding out the dandelions that were growing amid the azalea bushes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was strenuous work and the heat was beating on her, but she kept at it because it kept her away from the other girls, and she didn’t need Weaver on her back. Dan had a tough work ethic, but he treated her fairly and left her to work mostly alone. She had been digging out weeds for at least an hour when she felt a cool bottle of water tapping her on the neck.
“Take a break, kid. You’ll pass out in this heat if you don’t stay hydrated.”
“I’m not that fragile,” she grumped.
“Well I’m not saying that you are, but you don’t want to get heat stroke I had one of Weaver’s recruits faint on me a year or two ago. I always keep water since then.”
“Okay, safety first.” Joanne tapped her bottle to Dan’s and took a long drink. The chill of the water spread throughout her body. She was thirstier than she thought. “So, Dan, have you worked for Mr. Weaver long?”
He sat down in the grass and leaned against the tire of his wheelbarrow. “I actually started working for his old man while I was still in high school. So yeah, I’ve been here most of my life.”
Joanne raised her eyebrows “This is a creepy house to have hung around at for most of your life.”
“The house ain’t the half of it. That building there behind you, that’s the family chapel. He dragged his family in there twice a week for services.”
“What the old guy? Or Mr. Weaver?”
“No, not the current Mr. Weaver. His father. Our current Mr. Weaver, David, spent a lot of time in that chapel when he was knee high to a grasshopper.”
“Why doesn’t Mr. Weaver have a wife? I’ve never been in a foster home where there wasn’t a co
uple running it.” It was on her mind that a house-keeper would need paying, and foster parents weren’t too good at spending their money.
“As to why he don’t have a wife, well, I can’t rightly say, except that his life hasn’t been all that normal. Martha has been with him for years. She does a pretty good job, but he’s tight with money for sure.”
Joanne turned around to look at the chapel. The decrepit structure behind her didn’t look much like a holy place. Mortar crumbled between the stones and there were slates missing from the roof. It seemed like it had been neglected for years. She shrugged and turned back to Dan.
“He’s not normal, that’s obvious. What happened to him? Was Mr. Weaver’s father creepy, same as him?”
“It was a long time ago.” Dan dug his shovel deep into the dirt. “And it was a bad business what happened that night.” His voice took on a sorry tone.
“What do you mean that night? What happened?” Joanne was becoming very curious about Dan’s conversation.
“No local kid would be willing to come here, bad history.”
“Well, we don’t exactly get a say. So, what happened?”
“It had to have been about fifty years ago, if not more. David’s old man snapped. He killed his wife and his daughter one night. It’s amazing he didn’t kill David. It’s no wonder if he’s got a few problems. No one really knows how he survived it. But by the time they found his mother and the girl, the old man was dead himself. They say it was natural causes and he died of a heart attack. He was laying at the feet of the dead. Little David, he survived by hiding in a corner of the chapel the whole time it happened.”
“Holy crap. You mean his mother and sister were killed in the same house I’m living in – and his old man died there too? No wonder it’s so creepy!”
Dan stood up and stretched his back. “No, they didn’t die in the house they died in the chapel. If you ask me, God left that chapel and the house the same night.”
