Boding Evil

by Linda L Barton

  The days seemed to drag on, so Jeff was thrilled when Mrs. Mays who lived about a mile up the road from them had asked if he would mow her yard. She said she was too old to do it, and she would pay him $5 a week to keep it up for her. Jeff, of course, had jumped at the chance to make some money, as well as to have something to help fill his days now that he was forbidden to go exploring in the woods.

  It took Jeff most of the day to mow her large yard, but he did not mind. Mrs. Mays would always make him cold lemonade and feed him lunch, while she told him stories about the history of Greer Springs and the people who had lived there. He always looked forward to his time with Mrs. Mays and her stories.

  ***

  “Your place has been around for a long time and has been owned by several families,” Mrs. Mays said as she refilled Jeff’s glass with lemonade.

  “As a matter of fact, the last family bought your house in 1951. They had moved from New York City wanting to live a simpler life in the country. I remember when they moved in, so full of hope for a new life. It’s a shame what happened…” She then realized that maybe she should not say anymore.

  “What happened?” Jeff asked breathlessly.

  “Nothing, just the ramblings of a silly old woman.” She had hoped this would satisfy Jeff, but in reality, deep inside of her, she prayed history would not repeat itself.

  ~~~

  It had been a beautiful spring day when Mr. and Mrs. Deming had moved to Greer Springs with their two young children. Charles Deming had worked as a janitor at one of the business buildings in New York City and his wife, Marilyn stayed home with their children, Bethany and Michael, ages four and two. They had scrimped and saved their money ever since they were first married, so when they finally had enough to get their dream home, they purchased a twenty-acre farm in southeast Missouri and headed off for their new life.

  Charles had found the place listed in a small newspaper that had been left lying next to a trash can in one of the offices he cleaned every evening. He had never once wondered how a newspaper from Missouri ended up in an office so far away. He just figured it was fate, and he was meant to buy the farm for his family.

  The day they arrived at the farm was the happiest of their lives, next to the birth of their children. It did not matter that the house was over-run with weeds and was in dire need of repair. Charles took one look at it and proudly proclaimed it would soon be the home of their dreams. Marilyn immediately started to clean the inside and turned the old house into a comfortable home while Charles made all the repairs outside. He repaired a large hole in the roof of the house from a fallen tree then he worked on the fence and barn, so they could have a cow, a few chickens and a couple of pigs. Once things were livable, Charles took a job in town at the local feed mill and Marilyn stayed home and continued with turning the old place into the home of their dreams.

  Things could not have been more perfect. As the months progressed, Charles and Marilyn had made friends with several members of the local church and Marilyn had joined a group of women who met once a week to make quilts they would sell to help the needy and less fortunate. Everything was going along wonderfully until one fateful afternoon.

  Marilyn had been sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book while the children were napping when she heard a strange noise come from the basement. She had gotten up and walked toward the basement door when she heard the noise again, but this time, it was different, it sounded like a child who was scared and crying.

  “Oh, my Lord,” Marilyn grabbed the door handle and ran down the stairs, all the time wondering which of their children had managed to sneak passed her and open the locked door.

  Once Marilyn reached the bottom of the stairs, she pulled the string on the light fixture hanging from the ceiling to turn on the light. However, what she saw caught her completely by surprise. All of her canned goods that had been carefully placed on the shelves along the wall were broken with the contents scattered across the basement floor.

  “My goodness, what happened here?” Marilyn stood there, not quite sure of what to think.

  “Mommy, are you okay?” Bethany asked as she tried to see her mother from the top of the stairs.

  “Where’s your brother?” Marilyn frantically looked around the basement.

  “He’s still sleeping. What’s wrong, Mommy? What happened to all of the food?” Bethany asked then started to walk down the stairs toward her mother.

  “Stay where you are, there’s broken glass down here, and I don’t want you to get cut,” Marilyn walked back up the stairs to get her broom and dust pan.

  “Mommy, what happened? How did they get broken?” No sooner did the words leave her mouth than she had a horrible thought come to her, “I didn’t do that mommy, I promise!”

  Marilyn had to smile at the look of concern on Bethany’s face, “I know you didn’t do it. Now, don’t you worry about it, okay? Why don’t you get your basket and go out to the garden and pick us some green beans for our dinner tonight and I’ll get this mess cleaned up before your brother wakes up, okay?” Marilyn then touched the frightened child on the cheek and then reached for the broom and dustpan.

  “Okay, Mommy.” Bethany walked to the counter and picked up the straw basket, and then walked toward the back door.

  As Marilyn walked down the stairs into the basement a strange feeling washed over her, one of rage and fear churning up from the pits of her soul. She shook her head, trying to shake the feelings away, but they only seemed to increase with each step she took.

  “What the heck is wrong with me?” Marilyn whispered when she reached the last step.

  She looked around at the mess on the floor and wondered what had caused the jars to fall off the shelves. Marilyn had heard of earthquakes in this part of the country, but she did not feel anything when she was upstairs reading.

  “All that work for nothing,” she fumed while she dragged a wash tub over to the pile of broken jars.

  It took her several minutes to clean up all the spilled food and broken glass and put it in the washtub. Once she was done, she looked up the steep stairs and decided to leave the washtub there for Charles to take it out with the other trash.

  ***

  Marilyn was exhausted. She had prepared dinner, washed the dishes, gotten both of the children bathed and ready for bed, so now all she wanted to do was to relax and read a bit before bed.

  “I don’t understand what could have caused all of those jars to crash to the floor like that. Are you sure you didn’t feel anything?” Charles was surprised to learn of the incident in the basement earlier. He knew Marilyn must be upset because of all the hours of hard work she put into to the canning and making jam, only to have it splattered across the basement floor.

  “Charles, I’m really in no mood to talk about it. I’m tired and upset. I’d just like to relax and finish reading this book if you don’t mind.”

  The expression on her face let him know she was serious. He hated to see her upset like this, but he decided to heed her warning and leave her alone.

  The only thing disrupting the silence in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Charles had fallen asleep in his chair, while Marilyn sat in hers reading a book. Neither of them heard the children sneak down the stairs and go into the kitchen. Neither of them heard the lock on basement door unlatch, allowing the children to enter.

  ***

  “Come on, Charles, it’s time to get up for work.” Marilyn nudged him on the shoulder as she climbed out of bed.

  “Just five more minutes…” Charles rolled over, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders.

  “No, you don’t have time to sleep more. It took me forever to get you to come to bed last night. I thought there for a second that I was going to have to carry you to bed.” She tried to feign anger, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll get up, but I want coffee ready when I get to the kitchen. I can’t seem to
wake up.”

  “I’ll go make it now. I’ll even add an extra scoop of grounds to make it stronger, how’s that?” Marilyn then laughed at the smile appearing on his face. “Okay, extra strong it is.”

  Marilyn grabbed her thick robe from the chest at the end of the bed and slipped her feet into her house shoes.

  “Don’t take too long. You know how the children hate to wait for their breakfast.”

  Marilyn waited for Charles to sit up on the edge of the bed before she left the room. When she walked out into the hallway, she noticed the sun was shining brightly through the window at the top of the stairs, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  “What a perfectly lovely day,” Marilyn said to herself.

  She decided to go on down to the kitchen and prepare the coffee before waking up the children. For some reason, she wanted to keep this beautiful silence to herself a little while longer.

  As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she noticed a sudden drop in temperature. “That’s odd.”

  Marilyn knew that heat rose, but this was such a drastic difference in temperature than it was upstairs. Pushing the thought aside, she walked toward the kitchen, and with each step the temperature seemed to drop steadily.

  By the time she had reached the door to the kitchen, she could see her breath in front of her face.

  “Once I make the coffee, I better start the furnace. The children don’t need to catch a chill.”

  When her hand touched the doorknob, Marilyn had a sudden feeling of dread wash over her. Her body began to tremble, and her heart raced wildly in her chest. “What is wrong with me?”

  Her shaking hand turned the doorknob, and then slowly opened the door. Nothing could have prepared Marilyn for what she saw. The door to the basement was wide open and sitting on the floor in the opening was a small stuffed toy.

  “Oh, my God,” Marilyn cried out as she ran to the open door.

  “What’s wrong. What’s all the shouting about?” Charles rushed into the kitchen.

  “When I came into the kitchen, I noticed that the basement door was wide open. I distinctly remember locking it last night.” She then reached down and picked up the stuffed toy then held it out for Charles to see.

  “Okay, I want you to go upstairs and see if the children are still in bed. I’m sure this has a simple explanation. I’ll look in the basement and see if a varmint somehow got in.”

  Marilyn looked down into the dark basement then back to Charles. “You’re probably right. I’m sure the children are tucked safely in their beds. I’ll go wake them up so we can have breakfast.”

  Charles waited for Marilyn to leave the room before he walked over to the basement door. He could not explain it, but something told him the children had somehow managed to get the lock undone and went down there. He inhaled deeply then stepped on the first step.

  Marilyn knew she was being foolish to believe the children had somehow unlocked the door and went down into the basement. First of all, Michael was too short to even reach it, and Bethany would never be strong enough to unclasp the latch.

  As she topped the stairs the warmth of the sun touched her face through the window. “It’s too beautiful of a day for anything bad to happen,” she chuckled to herself. She then turned and walked to the children’s bedroom door.

  They’re not in their beds…I have them, a dark and ominous voice filled her mind.

  “What? Charles, did you say something?” Marilyn turned around, but no one was there.

  “That’s odd. I thought I heard Charles,” Marilyn laughed nervously to herself while opening the door

  The room seemed to close in on Marilyn as she stared at the empty beds. “Oh, my God!”

  She turned and rushed down the stairs as quickly as her feet could carry her. The staircase now seemed somehow longer, as though new steps miraculously appeared, preventing her from reaching the ground floor.

  “Please, Lord, help me!” The urgent prayer escaped her lips only to be consumed by the pounding of her heart.

  Marilyn did not know how she had managed to get back to the kitchen. She called out for Charles but was met with stone-cold silence.

  Come join them. They are waiting for you, the dark and ominous voice whispered from deep inside of her soul.

  “I don’t understand what you mean. Are they in the basement?” Marilyn felt her sanity steadily slip away with each passing moment.

  Her body quivering with fear, Marilyn knew she must face what awaited her in the darkness of the basement. She inhaled deeply and then moved forward.

  With each step, she felt the air grow colder, wrapping around her like death itself.

  As her foot touched the basement floor, she paused a moment, unsure if she wanted to see what awaited her.

  “Charles…” Silence.

  “Bethany…Michael.” Silence.

  It is time… the dark and ominous voice prodded her on.

  Marilyn lifted a trembling hand and pulled the string for the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. What appeared before her, destroyed the remainder of her sanity.

  “NO, this cannot be real!” Marilyn stumbled backward, falling back onto the stairs.

  A sickening sensation consumed Marilyn, as sorrowful wails escaped her lip. There in the harsh light of the single bulb, were the bloodied and lifeless bodies of her family. Both of the children were placed next to the shelves where the canned goods had been stacked the day before. The deep gashes in each throat, clearly showing the method of their deaths. She then focused her attention on the lifeless form of George, lying face down on the floor with a knife handle protruding from his back mere inches from where she had stood moments before.

  Why do you retreat? Why do you deny what you have done? The voice from deep inside her mind taunted.

  Marilyn struggled to make sense of what played out before her. She blinked several times then lifted her hands to wipe the tears stinging her eyes. “What is this?”

  The vision of bright red blood staining her hands caught Marilyn by surprise. “How is this possible. I didn’t do this…did I?”

  Foolish one. Do you not remember? Do you not remember carrying your sleeping children down the stairs last night one by one? Then taking your favorite kitchen knife and slitting their tender throats then leaving them to die. Do you not remember luring your unsuspecting husband to his death? How trusting he was when you told him that you heard something running around in the basement. He never expected you would drive the same knife you had killed the little ones with, deep into his back before you shoved him down the stairs.

  “Stop it, stop it; it’s all lies!” Marilyn wailed and thrashed about on the steps.

  You know it’s true. You wanted them dead. You said you were tired of being nothing more than a nursemaid to two sniveling brats and vessel for your husband’s sexual needs.

  “No, it’s not true…I love my family! This has to be a nightmare. It cannot be true. I didn’t kill them, I wouldn’t…” Marilyn cried uncontrollably, praying she was trapped in a horrible nightmare.

  You know the authorities will find you guilty of three murders, and you’ll die alone in the gas chamber. Is that what you want? The voice said with mock concern.

  “No, but if I truly did this then I deserve death,” her voice cracked as she gazed upon the carnage torturing her mind.

  Marilyn knew what she must do, but did she have the courage to go through with it? Struggling to her feet, she walked back upstairs. Marilyn had never fired the handgun Charles kept in the locked drawer by the back door. She would often watch him clean it, and he had even shown her how to load and fire it, but she had never wanted to actually use the gun. That is what George was supposed to do, not her. She opened the cabinet door and pulled the skeleton key from the nail inside to unlock the drawer.

  The metal of the gun felt cool against her skin, and she marveled how light it was in her hand. After she had retu
rned the key to its place on the nail, she closed the cabinet door, and walked back over to the door leading down to the basement. She paused a moment, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Why do you hesitate? The voice now seemed annoyed by her weakness.

  “I can’t believe this is happening. We were happy. We worked so hard to get here; to finally have our own home. I just don’t understand…” Marilyn sighed, surrendering to her fate, and then placed her foot on the first step.

  ~~~

  Mrs. Mays watched Jeff as he sipped on his lemonade. She wanted to warn him about the evil in that house, but how does one tell something so horrific to such a young child.

  She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to wander back to that horrible day nearly thirty years ago.

  ~~~

  “I wonder where Marilyn is? She’s never late,” Kathryn laughed while she looked at her wristwatch for the third time. “If she’s not here in ten minutes, we’ll just have to start without her.”

  “On my way here, I noticed that Charles’ pickup was parked by the shed. I thought it strange since he’s usually at work by six each morning,” Charlotte chimed in.

  “Well, if she’s not coming, she could have let someone know. She’s supposed to be bringing the cookies,” Donna rolled her eyes at this inconvenience to their plans.

  “I was looking forward to her cinnamon raisin oatmeal cookies,” Betsy grinned, licking her lips.

  All of the women exchanged glances and then laughed at how foolish they were being over cookies.

  They had just started working on their latest quilt when the telephone began to ring. Kathryn stood from the quilt stand and walked over to the phone sitting on a small table by the window. “Hello.”

  After a couple of moments, Kathryn hung up the phone and turned to face the group of ladies gathered in the room. Her face was ashen white, with tears filling her eyes.

  “What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?” Charlotte was the first to break the silence.

  Kathryn tried to steady herself, but her legs crumbled beneath her, causing her to slump to the floor.

  While the other women exchanged frightened glances, Charlotte rushed over to Kathryn and helped her to a chair.