The Sparrow's 'Wing'

The enormous spotlights that illuminated the tranquil Live Oak Gardens and its one thousand over-sized sculptures shut down acre by rolling acre. The waning crescent moon and the starry night sky bathed the grounds in a soft, glistening ashen hue. The smell of honeysuckle, sweet peonies, and gardenia infused the high humidity of the breeze that lifted off the ocean a mile away.

“Are they gone yet?” His eyes glanced left to right and back again.

“I think so.” Only the corner of her well carved alabaster lips moved. “Ah…chew! Ah…chew!” She bent forward clenching her nose and mouth.

“Bless you my dear.” He said still standing motionless.

“Oh, this darn rhododendron always makes me sneeze.” She furiously brushed away the thick branch, tipped with a round puff of pink blossoms, from her nose.

“I think the coast is clear.” He jumped down from his chiseled soapstone plinth. “Let me help you, my love.” He extended his right hand toward her, still clutching his anvil in his left and helped her down from her scallop shell.

“Hermes, it’s time! Wake up!” Hephaestus yelled across the immaculately manicured lawn.

Hermes woke suddenly as the sprinkler system engaged and sprayed a chilled mist on his patina. He made a loud screeching sound when he moved his bronze silhouette.

“Geez, Hephaestus you don’t have to yell. I know what time it is. They have me practically welded to a sundial for goodness sake.”

“The sun isn’t shining, genius,” said Hephaestus in cynical tone.

“Oh, yeah,” Hermes chuckled and turned to Aphrodite. “Mmm…mmm…mmm, girl you’re lookin’ good tonight.”

She would have blushed if she could. She smiled instead.

“Watch it, Hermes,” he snarled. His face nearly cracked as he distorted it in anger. “That’s my wife you’re talking too.”

“What did you expect marrying the goddess of love and beauty? You should have married Medusa then no one would ever be looking at your wife.” Hermes smirked then spoke again. “She would have turned you to stone if you ever made her mad though.”

“We’re already stone, Einstein,” he said facetiously.

Hermes stretched his arms and shook out his legs like a sprinter getting ready for a 25K race.

“Well, time for a long night of work. See you at the wing, beautiful.” He winked at Aphrodite then turned to Hephaestus, “Later sucker!” He soared out of sight leaving only a golden beam of flaming bronze and the outline of his winged sandals lingering behind him in the darkness.

“The wing, what wing?” She asked. He deliberately didn’t answer her.

“Gosh, I hate that guy. He’s always ogling you and flirting.”

“Oh honey, don’t let him get to you. He has a hard job waking everyone with the swish of his cheesy, little magic wand. This park has over 7,000 acres,” Aphrodite said gently petting the tiny marble dove perched on her shoulder.

“He is a messenger god, that’s his job. He was built for speed and still he complains,” remarked Hephaestus.

“Let’s go to Myrtle Grove. You know it’s my favorite place,” she said.

“We will, I promise, but first we have somewhere to be. After you my dear,” he bowed and waved his hand in a romantic gesture.

They walked hand in exquisitely sculpted hand for several minutes.

“Where are we going?” Aphrodite asked. “I haven’t been to this part of the grounds before.”

“They are still working on it.”

Flowers and small plants were splayed along the edge of the red brick walkway. Freshly dug holes showed their future resting places. As they rounded the tall trees of The Myrtle Grove, Hephaestus lifted the bright orange fence closing in the newly constructed area.

“What is this place?” She asked.

Suddenly, her eyes stared in amazement as fuchsia, azure, emerald and violet lights shimmered up into the atmosphere. The source of the radiance was coming from the pink granite statue of Hyperion, Titan god of light. He was standing in a large circular pond surrounded by every statuette that inhabited the gardens.

“It’s a new installation,” Hephaestus said pulling Aphrodite closer to the crowd.

“Glad to see you made it,” said the goddess Isis as she turned and approached Aphrodite handing her a luscious bouquet of white lilies.

“Ouch! Watch where you’re going with those wings Isis. I almost dropped it,” grumbled Atlas.

“Don’t mind him,” whispered Isis. “He’s just grumpy because he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’d be grumpy to if I had to carry a three ton sphere on my back everyday.”

“Wine here, get your wine here!” Dionysus yelled as he poured the jade Ganesh a goblet from the infinite supply of his decanter. “It helps to be the god of wine. I make a fortune at these events.”

“Honey,” Hephaestus turned to Aphrodite. “Welcome to our new home, The Sparrow’s Wing!” The crowd cheered. She stared closer at the pond. Two gilded golden platforms were flanked by thirty-four glimmering Kordofanian sparrows and eight winged cherubim each spouting water from the center of the pond.

“That one looks like its peeing!” Hermes yelled from somewhere in the crowd.

The night sky was slowly turning lighter now. A ram’s horn blew in the distance. It was the signal that the first employees of the day had entered the front gate.

“Go everyone, now!” Hyperion announced in a deep piercing voice. “Get back to your stations.” Everyone scattered back to their nooks hidden in the maze of the gardens.

Hephaestus and Aphrodite climbed onto their newly built plinths and then froze back to solid stone just as the first landscape gardeners entered the area.

“Glad you guys moved these sculptures yesterday on my day off. They have to be two thousand pounds each,” said the gardener.

“We didn’t. The crane isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

The Midnight Garden

The enormous spotlights that illuminated the tranquil Huntington Gardens and its one hundred and six over-sized sculptures shut down acre by rolling acre. The waning crescent moon and the starry night sky bathed the grounds in a soft, glistening ashen hue. The smell of honeysuckle, sweet peonies, and gardenia infused the high humidity of the breeze that lifted off the ocean a mile away.
“Are they gone yet?” His eyes glanced left to right and back again.
“I think so.” Only the corner of her well carved cream alabaster lips moved. “Ah…chew! Ah…chew!” She bent forward clenching her nose or mouth.
“Bless you my dear.” He said still standing motionless.
“I hate this stupid rhododendron.” She furiously brushed away the thick branch, tipped with a round puff of pink blossoms, from her nose.
“I think the coast is clear.” He jumped down from his chiseled soapstone plinth. “Let me help you, my love.” He extended his right hand toward her, still clutching his anvil in his left and helped her down from her scallop shell.
“Hermes, it’s time! Wake up!” Hephaestus yelled across the immaculately manicured lawn.
Hermes woke suddenly as the sprinkler system engaged and sprayed a chilled mist on his patina. He made a loud screeching sound when he moved his bronze silhouette.
“Geez, Hephaestus you don’t have to yell. I know what time it is. They have me practically welded to a sundial for goodness sake.”
“The sun isn’t shining, genius,” said Hephaestus in cynical tone.
“Oh, yeah,” Hermes chuckled and turned to Aphrodite. “Mmm…mmm…mmm, damn girl you’re lookin’ good tonight.”
She would have blushed if she could.
“Watch it, Hermes,” he snarled. His face nearly cracked as he distorted it in anger. “That’s my wife you’re talking too.”
“What did you expect marrying the goddess of love and beauty? You should have married Medusa then no one would ever be looking at your wife. She would have turned you to stone if you pissed her off though.”
“We’re already stone, Einstein,” he was being facetious.
Hermes stretched his arms and shook out his legs like a sprinter getting ready for a 25K race.
“Well, time for a long night of work. See you at the ceremony, beautiful.” Hermes said then turned to Hephaestus, “Later, sucker!” He soared out of sight leaving only a golden beam of flaming bronze and the outline of his winged sandals lingering behind him in the darkness.
“What ceremony?” She asked. He deliberately didn’t answer her. The surprise would be ruined.
“Gosh, I hate that guy. He’s always ogling you and flirting.”
“Oh honey, don’t let him get to you. He has a hard job waking everyone with the swish of his cheesy, little magic wand. This park has over 7,000 acres,” Aphrodite said gently petting the tiny alabaster dove perched on her shoulder.
“He is built for speed and still he complains,” remarked Hephaestus.
“Let’s go to Myrtle Grove. You know it’s my favorite place,” she said.
“We will, I promise, but first we have somewhere to be. After you my dear,” he bowed and waved his hand in a romantic gesture.
They walked hand in exquisitely sculpted hand for several minutes.
“Where are we going? I haven’t been to this part of the grounds before.”
“They are still planting it.”
Flowers and small plants were splayed along the edge of the brick walkway. Freshly dug holes showed their future resting places. As they rounded the tall trees of Live Oak Alley, he lifted the bright orange fence closing in the newly constructed area.
“What is this place?” She looked amazed as crimson, azure, emerald and violet lights shimmered in the atmosphere. The source of the radiance was coming from the pink granite statue of Hyperion, Titan god of light. He was standing in a large circular pond surrounded by every figure that inhabited the gardens.
“It a new installation,” Hephaestus said pulling Aphrodite closer to the crowd.
“Glad to see you made it,” said Isis as she turned and approached Aphrodite handing her a luscious bouquet of white lilies.
“Ouch! Watch where you’re going with those wings Isis. I almost dropped it,” grumbled Atlas.
“Don’t mind him,” whispered Isis. “He’s just grumpy because he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’d be grumpy to if I had to carry a three ton sphere on my back everyday.”
“Wine here, get your wine here!” Dionysus yelled as he poured the jade Ganesh a goblet from the infinite supply of his decanter. “It helps to be the god of wine. It makes me a fortune at these events.”
“Honey,” Hephaestus turned to Aphrodite. “Welcome to our new home.” The crowd cheered. She stared closer at the pond. Two gilded golden platforms flanked by eight cherubs spouting water rose out from the center of the water.
“That one looks like its peeing!” Hermes yelled from somewhere in the crowd.
The night sky was slowly turning lighter now. A ram’s horn blew in the distance. It was the signal that the first employees of the day had entered the front gate.
“Go everyone!” Hyperion announced in a deep piercing voice. “Get back to your stations.” Everyone scattered back to their nooks hidden in the maze of the garden.
Hephaestus and Aphrodite climbed onto their newly built plinths and then froze back to solid stone just as the first landscape gardeners entered the area.
“Glad you guys moved these sculptures yesterday on my day off. They have to be two thousand pounds each,” said the gardener.
“We didn’t. The crane isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

Cloaked Illusions

Cloaked Illusions is the name of our new five women writing team. I am currently working on the first Chapter of our online novel and will be posting it in the next two weeks. Our team consists of Hana, Sharon, Norma, and Rosemary.

After-Life: A Mystery

Chapter 1

Minya, Upper Egypt 1204 BCE

She was taken to the ubi, a place of purification. The embalmers washed her body with richly scented palm wine and rinsed it with water from the Nile River. Then an incision was made with a fine flint blade to the left side of her body to remove some of the internal organs for preservation. The liver, lungs, and stomach were each washed and covered with natron for dehydration. Her heart was left intacted. It was the center of all emotions and knowledge and would be needed in her afterlife.

Her body was filled and covered with natron for forty days. The embalmers then washed it away and bathed her skin with exotic oils. The dehydrated organs were washed and wrapped in linen. Each was placed in its own canopic jar to be buried with her in the tomb. Again, they covered her skin with fine oils and wrapped linens tightly around her body. She was placed inside a coffin of pure gold adorned with her name in hieroglyphs inside of a cartouche. This was a symbol reserved for only royalty. The four corners of the sarcophagus were protected by the goddess Isis. Her brightly painted wings spread out along the coffin’s sides enclosing and guarding its valuable contents.

Princess Chione, mystical daughter of the Nile, lived and died under the reign of her father Pharaoh Mermeptah. Her death, by suspected poisoning, rattled the citizens of her kingdom. She was loved by the people. Upon her father’s death she would have been named Pharaoh to the dismay of her brother and husband, Nefru. Her younger brother became obsessed with obtaining this power of the gods and the need to be king. He despised her, but they had to be married for sake of the family and their place on the thrown.

It was a common practice in ancient Egypt to marry within a family. This insured royal blood stayed royal and commoners could claim the power of the thrown. However, Mermeptah was still King of Egypt and even in his frail state he refused to relinquish power to anyone.

“Why does she deserve a Phararoh’s burial? You are King, father!”
“She was to be Queen and Pharaoh of all Egypt, my son. That is all that is needed to be said.”
“Would you have done the same for me, father?”
“Her heart was lighter than the feather of Anubis. She has successfully entered the afterlife. You have a selfish heart, my son. To be a true king you need purity of heart and the strength of a fierce lion,” his father was sweating and shivering. “You show no promise with either of these traits. I have decided to pass the kingdom to your brother, Coseru. It was the decision made by the gods and cannot be changed, my son.”
“He is only six years old, father! I am the true heir and rightful king! He is the son of your whore! I have made sacrifices to the gods. The priests have accepted me as their new Pharaoh. I want to build monuments and temples.”
“Running a kingdom is what you do for its people, not your selfish purpose.” His father coughed and wheezed. “Water please, my son.”
His son watched his father’s pain with no response.
“Water, I need water.”
“You need water! You...need...water!” His anger was building. “I married my sister to have this kingdom! I killed my sister for this kingdom! Now, I will kill you for MY KINGDOM!”

With that, he pulled his sacrificial obsidian blade, encrusted with precious stones of alexandrite and arabian rubies, from his tunic and stabbed it through his father’s heart, killing him instantly. Then he ran away. With the help of his trusted servant, Katawu, he stashed the blade where it would never be found. Members of the household were gathered together, by the reigning King Nefru. They were questioned then immediately condemned and executed before anyone could reveal the truth of his father's demise. Nefru had gotten away with murder. He had fulfilled his destiny. No one knew of his father’s plans to make Coseru heir to the throne. Nefru was now Pharaoh.

The next morning his sister’s body was to be finally laid to rest. She was then placed inside a pink granite sarcophagus. It was tightly sealed with plant resin to keep her body preserved. She was transported by a lavishly decorated funeral boat to her tomb in the hills of the Valley of the Queens. Many gifts from her people were laid with her to take into the afterlife. There were jars of olives, barley, oil, clothing,and gold. One gift was given without love and respect, but with hatred and greed. Lying next to the mummified body of Princess Chione sealed in her tomb, was the jewel encrusted black obsidian blade that killed their father.


Chapter 2

South Western Pennsylvania 1898

The mysterious woman greeted her guests with a strange, unplaceable foreign inflection.

“Velcome ladies and gentlmen. Zee zpiritz are rezless…quickly be zeated!”
Their eccentric hostess, dressed in a jade Kosa silk sari with swirls of shimmering gold thread and matching Pagri turban headdress, suddenly rose puppet-like from her mahogany gothic armchair. A bell rang somewhere in the room. Their eyes widened. The hostess’s piecing green eyes appeared to roll back into her skull and she began to shake violently. Then she abruptly stopped.
“She iz ‘ere. I can feel ‘er zpirit. Your Molly iz ‘ere wiz uz.”
The room, lit by several beeswax candles, was shrouded in near darkness. The bronze ivy leaf wall sconces emitted the tiniest glint of pale ginger gaslight.

“Help…me…Mummy.”
It was the soft voice of a young girl.
“Molly is that you? Oh, my darling girl, is it really you?”
“Where...are….you…Mummy? I…need…you. I’m...scared.”
“I’m here. Mummy is right here,” cried a pale, thin, young woman sitting across the table.
She was exquisitely dressed in a Victorian black crepe mourning gown with a plain collar, broad weepers’ cuffs of white muslin, and a bombazine cloak. A handmade lace weeping veil draped the taut flesh of her face.
“I need to see you, Molly!”

The woman burst into a desperate, frantic sob. A well dressed gentleman, who was trying to comfort the young mother, spoke into the dark abyss of the room.
“I’m so sorry my darling girl. We tried everything, but it was too late.”
Materializing behind the apparently still possessed hostess was a faint trace of a figure clad in a long, flowing nightgown. She appeared to have an iridescent aura emanating from her body.

“I can see you! You are so beautiful, like an angel,” said the distraught mother.
Entranced by the angelic figure before her, she started to get up from her chair.
“Zit down, pleaze. Do not break zee circle. Zee vindow between zhat worlt and zhis worlt iz fragile and zee circle must ztay complete!”

The hostess’s assistant, that slowly paced the parlor ominously, gently placed her hands on the young mother’s shoulders insuring she wouldn’t move. The room fell silent. The five other anonymously invited guests stared at the ghostly image with pure terror in their eyes. Each dared not move for fear of spiritual retribution. Everything in their minds said this was the devil’s work. They should not be tampering with this black magic, but they were invited here for a purpose that was yet to be known.

The brass bell that was sitting in the center of the table started to hover above their heads as if it were enchanted by some mystic being. They could just make out the shine of its outline as it flew across the room. It landed loudly on the hard pine floor with a tremendous clang from its clapper. The large robust table began to vibrate vigorously. It lifted slightly from the floor then crashed down hard again. The beeswax candles blew out spewing wax onto a gentlemen’s cravat, narrowly missing his face. A loud gasp and a scream came from the other side of the room. Then a loud thump as one woman fainted, slumping in her chair and hitting her forehead hard on the tabletop. The elderly man sitting beside her tried to help.

“Let ‘er be. Do not break zee circle,” cried the crazed hostess. Her head was spinning wildly side to side.
“Zpiritz, come clozer!”
The light surrounding the ghostly figure brighten. The guests tried to shield their eyes from the blinding light.
“Do not break zee circle! Rize, my children!” She motioned to her guests.
With their hands still clenched together they rose from the table, still grasping to the woman that was passed out on the tabletop.
Madame Rousseau reached her hands into the air as if absorbing some intense invisible energy.
“Ztay wiz uz mighty zspiritz,” she shouted to the heavens.
The girl’s image slowly faded into the shadows.
“They…are….taking…me…away! Don’t…leave…me…Mummy.”
The young mother yelled in pure desperation, “Bring her back Madame, please! My little Molly, do not leave me again! I can not bare it!”

Madame Rousseau fell backwards, with the help of her assistant, landed squarely in her armchair. She let out a huge gasp of air and began to heave billowy clouds of grey smoke from her mouth and nose, as if expelling a dark force from her body. Her eyes rolled back to their normal placement in their sockets. The room lay still. The guests did not speak; they were paralyzed in their chairs.

The gas sconces along the wall lit brighter now. The room was left a disheveled wreck. The frighten visitors grabbed their belongings and tried to exit the parlor as fast as they could. The woman that fell faint was still resting unconscious on the purple silk cloth covering the table. As the room grew lighter the guest realized she would never recover from her horrific ordeal. The razor-sharp, jewel encrusted, obsidian blade of Nefru that pierced her neck insured her of that.


To Be Continued......

Submission to Tribune Democrat Mystery Story-Chapter 4 April 2010

“Wait until you see the acreage of this place, perfect for a winery.” said the realtor excitedly.

Melissa knew it was an intentional attempt to change the focus from the picture back to the farmhouse.

“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” said Melissa with a spurious smile.
When they were out of sight Melissa used her sleeve to dust off the glass covering the picture.

The heavy portrait shifted on its nail and slid sideways. A small plaque dislodged from behind its frame and fell to the floor.
The Caplin Family – March 1975
Melvin and Loretta with our kids: Jimmy, 19 and Amy, 6
Melissa straightened the picture and studied the family in the photograph. She shuddered at the sight of Melvin with his horn-rimmed glasses and Jimmy the slender young man from her vision.

The face of an older woman with a solemn expression appeared to stare straight through her. The couple seemed more like grandparents to the children.
“This can’t be….,” Melissa recognized Amy. It was her ghostly companion.
She shoved the small plaque into her coat pocket and ran to the front porch. She abruptly interrupted the realtor, as he was pointing out the Queen Anne posts lining the porch.

“We need some time to think about the house, we’ll call you,” said Melissa shooting a look at her husband.
“Well…James...thanks for the tour,” said her husband awkwardly.
With a stunned look from the realtor, they got into their car and left.
“No…No…LET ME GO,” yelled Melissa waking out of her sleep in a cold sweat.
Every night that week she was wrought with nightmares of Amy’s abduction. Sometimes, Melissa felt she was being pulled into the dark abyss of the van.
Flashes of the older man and woman, the dusty room, the street corner, the two men arguing, and Amy plagued her every thought.

Still exhausted from lack of sleep, Melissa got into her car and drove back to her hometown.She pulled into the Johnstown library’s parking lot just as the doors were being unlocked. She rushed past the security guard and went to the third floor.
She researched the library’s digital archives and found several articles regarding the 1975 abduction. To her surprise, that’s not all she found.

February 21, 1975
Amy Davis Abducted in Broad Daylight

February 28, 1975
Eight Abductions in Two Years: Police Suspect Link

April 2, 1975
Three Suspects Arrested in Cambria and Centre County Abductions

April 4, 1975
Amy Davis, Who Helped Seven Children Escape, Still Missing

Melissa printed each article, but before she could read them Amy’s ghostly image appeared through a reflection in her computer screen.
She turned and saw the little girl standing in the stacks. Amy giggled and then ran away. Melissa followed.

“WAIT! I want to help you!”
Amy ran right through a door in the library’s backroom.
Melissa opened it.
A tiny hand reached out, grabbed Melissa’s arm and pulled her through the door. It slammed shut behind her.
She was in the secret room of the farmhouse again. It was now furnished with seven tiny cots. Several children were playing tag and two were hiding in under a bed.
“Meli, come play with us,” said a small boy.
“Meli?”
No one called her that for years.
“You can see me?” Melissa asked.
“Of course I can silly-willy. Tag…you’re it!”
Just then, Jimmy the slender young man entered the room.
“Go to bed! You got lots to do on the farm tomorrow!”
The children scrambled to their beds.
“Come on Meli, lay down before you get in trouble.”
That’s when she noticed her tiny, little feet peeking out from under her long nightgown.
“What happened to me? I’m a child!”
“Oh no..!” Melissa started to remember the childhood nightmare she blocked out years ago and now she was reliving it.
Melissa ‘Meli’ Stewart was abducted at age 7. She was one of the seven children in the secret attic.
Then his familiar face flashed in her mind.
Jimmy, the slender young man, was James Caplin, their realtor. Did he remember her?
Melissa had to find Amy.
Where could Amy be and why was she in the Caplin family portrait?

"Ode to a Shoe-addict"

Oh goodness, what have we here?
A pair of Choo’s magically appear.

Buy me, buy me, says a voice in my head.
Money is no object when your husband is in bed.

Just press, submit and you can have those Chanel's.
It’ll be a month before you even catch hell.

I reach for my card and enter my pin.
Those Prada's are calling, “Carisa, give in!”

My husband awakes, what do I do?
Just press send, I must have those shoes!!

What have you done? Oh wifey of mine!
My shoes will be special, so lovely, divine.

I promise these will be the last one’s I’ll buy!
…Until next time I decide to shop online.

Submission to Tribune Writers Contest- Week 2- Mar 2010

Horrified, Melissa became dizzy and nearly fainted. She caught herself before falling on a sharp picket fence that bordered the nearby yard.
Would she have even felt the point of its raw cut edge? Or, would she have fallen right through it as though it wasn’t even there?
Melissa wasn’t about to test that theory. She was still trying to get a grip on her new reality.
The little girl was silent and stared blankly at her. She was clad only in a white turtle neck, a bright red romper with a ladybug embroidered on the bottom, a pair of crisp white tights, and one patent leather shoe on her right foot. Her raven hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
She was not dressed for the current weather, but it didn’t seem to affect her.
Melissa felt there was something eerily familiar about her.
“Why am I here? What’s wrong with that farmhouse? Who are you?” Melissa asked apprehensively.
Without saying a word the girl lifted her hand and pointed to a crumpled piece of paper pinned to her romper. Funny, Melissa hadn’t noticed it earlier.
Hello my name is……Jaclyn Gardner.
The phantom girl turned away from her without uttering a word.
Jaclyn began walking. Melissa didn’t know what to do. Everything in her said, run.
Run where? She thought hopelessly.
Suddenly, out of the silence came a disembodied voice, “Follow Me.”
It whispered into Melissa’s ear. This sent an icy shiver down her spine.
“FOLLOW ME.”, now there was annoyance in the voice.
The little girl turned toward her in frustration.
“WALK, PLEASE.”
The girl’s pale blue lips never moved. Melissa’s ear rang as though the girl was right beside her; she wasn’t. In fact she was at least 10 feet away. Melissa’s pupils widened and her vision blurred. How is she doing that?
“WALK. WE DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME.”
“Ok... I’m…coming.” Melissa’s voice shook nervously. She felt like she was answering the air.
Melissa began walking down Johnstown’s main street. She passed familiar businesses like the hospital where she got her first cast and the old theater where she used to watch movies as a child.
After high school Melissa chose to attend the university in ‘Happy Valley’. It was always her dream growing up.
She met her husband at the local diner where she liked to study late at night. They argued over the last ‘world famous’ sticky bun and agreed to share it over a cup of coffee.
Melissa married and decided to stay in Centre County. She taught Abnormal Psychology at the university. The rest was history or a far off future.
“MELISSA, STOP!”
This made her nearly jump out of her skin. She didn’t realize that Jaclyn had stopped walking.
Jaclyn lifted her thin, insipid hand and pointed down an alley.
“GO, NOW!”
There was a sound of desperation from the voice.
Melissa started cautiously down the alley. She saw a patent leather shoe lying on its side.
Two boys started to shout.
“It was an accident. It was all her fault anyway!”
“They won’t believe it was an accident.”
“We need to get out of here! She knows who we are!”
A small cry came from behind a green dumpster.
She’s alive. There’s still time. Melissa thought.
Then she was struck with fear.
It was as though she was sleeping. That red romper, white tights, and one patent leather shoe; it was the lifeless body of Jaclyn Gardner. A small child was standing above her crying. She seemed uninjured. A tag hung from her yellow satin dress.
Hello my name is…Melissa Ellis.
“That’s me!”
“That’s why we’re here.” It was the first time her ghostly companion spoke directly to her all day.
“They know who you are. You are the only witness. They are coming for you.”
The two boys crawled through a small hole in a wooden fence at the back of the alley.
“Follow them!” Jaclyn ordered.
Melissa didn’t think twice and squeezed her way through the small hole.
Mystified, she found herself back in the hallway of the empty farmhouse. When she turned around, the alley, Jaclyn and small door to the dusty room were gone.