October 21, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged autumn, bedlam, death by hanging, demons, evil, full moons, ghost towns, Halloween, hauntings, justice, life after death, murder, Purgatory, scary stories, souls, the gold rush
The day had started out being quite beautiful, and rather warm for that time of year. It was the morning after those damnable occurrences, after the devil-ridden chaos which had gone on to transpire during that most terrible night in Bedlam. Autumn’s weather had been lovely to begin with, and it remained unusually wonderful on up to the end of October, in the year of our Lord 1869, where our story begins.
The mighty oak, famous in these parts for the many hangings that had taken place on it’s lowest limb over the last 20 years, stood on the outskirts of a small town that had seen it’s better days. Although the town didn’t officially have a name, the folks from around there called it Bedlam. Lying a few miles off the Oregon Trail, it had been witness to the mass migration of folks who had dropped everything in order to rush for the gold discovered in California in 1849, and also for many years afterwards. The new transcontinental railroad was not a boon for this little settlement. The track had been laid some 10 miles or so to the north. Almost all of the residents had packed up their belongings, and made their way towards the mostly unoccupied lands surrounding the recently built train station. They knew there would be a growing city of significant size there someday, because that’s what had come to pass in the past. The few poorer families remaining behind had plans to do the same, but hadn’t yet procured the means.
Matthew, one of the family men, had returned to Bedlam from his future homestead that morning with supplies, and the latest news. Sufficiently tragic and disturbing were these facts, to say the least. There had been an uncanny mass murder the night before. It involved a young pastor, his wife, and three children. This most innocent of families had lived in a little shack beside the newly-built church. The novice preacher had only to put a few more finishing touches on his place of worship before he could begin holding services. He’d constructed the two on the south side of the city, apart from the rest of the homes, and far away from the only saloon that was in business at the time. There had been a witness of sorts, a man who’d stepped out of the saloon a few hours after sunset. His name was Luke. Though he ended up taking heroic measures, his valiant efforts were to be in vain. He, himself, related the story to Matthew and a couple of other men who’d gathered together outside the grocery store the morning after the crime. These then are the facts as Matt relayed them to my great-grandfather one day, many years later. I was about 10 years old when Gramps finally told me the story of these historically ghastly events.
~ Chapter One ~
Luke told the men that he was in the saloon conducting a business transaction the night before, on the evening of October 30th. He’d therefore only imbibed himself with two glasses of whiskey, and was in no way tipsy when he had taken his leave, and proceeded to venture south, back to his home and family. As Luke neared his house, he could easily see the church which was just a little ways on down at the end of the dirt road. It was a crystal clear, crisp night, with a very nearly full moon’s light. All of a sudden, he eyed a shadowy figure on horseback casually making his way out of town at an easy-going pace, not all that far up ahead at this point. Perhaps, just a city block or so beyond the pastor’s home.
The rider appeared to be dressed all in black. He was wearing a cape that looked to be floating as it flapped in the wind which was blowing head on, and straightaway into his and Luke’s face. This dark and mysterious man rode a shiny, fine black stallion, and wore a wide-brimmed hat. Although, from the shape of it, he could tell it wasn’t a cowboy hat at all, no. It reminded him of the one that stranger had on, the one who’d showed up in town that very morning, by himself no less, to stock up on supplies. Luke presumed it was indeed the same man. The fact that he was leaving town this late at night seemed to him a bit strange at the time, especially since he was going it alone. It seemed stupid to Luke, and dangerous, too. “No one in their right mind would take that kind of risk! No one that had any common sense, that is. Nothing but miles and miles of rugged terrain are to be found in that direction. Nothing but a lawless countryside will the traveler find in front of him once he rides on past Bedlam, as you know,” Luke exclaimed to the men.
About this suspicious character, he knew but a bit. Luke saw him leaving the store that morning and, letting his curiosity get the best of him, he took the time out of his busy schedule to go inside, see the clerk, and inquire after the tall, dark, but handsome looking stranger in a tailored suit and cloak. This is what he gathered from the clerk. Apparently, the man spoke no English whatsoever, or if he did, he didn’t let on about it. After the clerk had added up the cost of all he had brought to the counter, this obvious foreigner pulled a leather, string-drawn pouch from his coat pocket, wanting to settle the deal by way of gold, and balance the goods and his debt against the weight of however many nuggets as was necessary. The clerk didn’t have a problem with that. It was fairly customary in this part of the country. He got out the scale and proceeded to give the man a fair transaction. The stranger then smiled, appearing satisfied with the deal, and gave the clerk another smallish nugget as a tip, which made the clerk nervously rejoice, for no one had ever done such a thing in his store before that day. The man was polite and courteous, so much so that one might think him an aristocrat, or a prince even, one from somewhere far, far away in another land across the sea. That he had mesmerized the clerk…well, to Luke there was no doubt about it. Whether or not it really had been a fair deal, that much he could not ascertain.
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November 9, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged agnostics, bedlam, cowboys, death by hanging, evil, experience, fear, fugitives, ghost towns, ghosts, graveyards, hauntings, horses, legends, murder mysteries, posses, premonitions, rational thinking, reason, scary stories, tug of war, westerns, wild west
Matt was in a hurry to get back to Bedlam, but his old mare was already giving him her best. It wasn’t long until she fell back to her normally slow pace. They arrived 10 minutes earlier than usual. The old girl was happier to be home than he was, and started prancing as soon as she caught eye of the place. Matt was looking on down the road, setting his focus on the legendary oak tree with the graveyard close behind. He was glad to see it hadn’t changed a bit since he’d left. No one was standing around there, and no black stallion was seen nearby. The skies were clear, and the weather warm. The sun was shining brightly. In the mid-afternoon of that day, the scene showed no signs of the menacing features for which it was famous, such as being haunted.
Matt had never believed in ghosts, not even as a child, nor did he ever believe that line about the hanging tree, “Home to a hundred killer’s souls, or more…” He thought all that stuff was ‘a bunch of baloney’, even though he’d repeated it more often than anyone else in town. He stood by the line that says, “Seeing is believing!” He never completely ruled out the unlikely, and fairly thought himself ‘open-minded’. Matt liked to tell scary stories to people who believed in that ‘nonsense’. Though he knew many a fairy tale, he didn’t believe in miracles that could come into being all of their own accord. He imagined that if miracles ever existed at all, they came into being through action. To him, they were not ‘make believe’ stories, they were ‘made to happen’ historical events. According to Matt’s wife, he was a dreamer who often succumbed to flights of fancy. “He forever has his head up in the clouds,” was her claim, but she loved him nonetheless, and looked up to him in many respects. For his part, Matt saw himself as one of those types of men who would think things out before taking action. He’d didn’t enjoy delayed regrets. On his way home that day, he made up his mind in a rational way. He decided on the question he would ask his neighbors concerning the night before. This is what he came up with. “Did you see, or hear, anything strange last night after you went to bed?” Matt liked questions that were short and to the point. He liked to give short answers that were meaningless even more, because he enjoyed confounding his audience.
In her frustrated impatience, Matt’s wife had been waiting outside the house for him with her arms crossed. His hound dog lay at her feet, and didn’t bother to get up. He was late in coming back with the groceries once again. He rode up on his happy dancing horse, pulled back on the reins, and began to dismount before coming to a halt, and almost fell off. “Sorry it took so long. I have an excuse. Hear me out first.” His wife looked at the dog and shook her head. “Here we go again,” she said in a thought to herself. She unfolded her arms and put her hands on her hips. “For pity’s sake! What is it now?” She kept the next few words to herself. We can assume she thought, “This is getting to be old hat.”
Matt goes on to tell her the whole story, but he tried to tone it down a bit. He didn’t want it to sound too awfully bad, because then she’d be afraid to move there. Matt had applied for a job with the railroad, and they’d have to leave Bedlam if he were able to get himself hired on as he had hoped. She took the news rather hard, to say the least, but she took everything personally, so Matt was not too surprised by her hysterical reaction. He calmed her down best he could. Shortly thereafter, he proceeded to go out and make his way around to each and every neighbor. Matt repeated his well-rehearsed question to all, but no one had seen anything unusual, nor had they heard any strange noises. Their closest neighbor was an elderly widow. She had a complaint waiting for Matt. She madly claimed to have heard his hound dog late the night before. He was “…barking and howling away for the hell of it!” as she put it. She was awakened two hours after she’d gone to bed, and in her anger, she’d gotten up and looked out the window. Upon seeing this ‘nothing’, she opened it up and yelled, “Just what in the hell are you barking at, ya damn dog?!!” Matt told her he was sorry, and that he was home and in bed the same time as she, and he never heard the dog. “Are you calling me a liar?” she yelled at him. “No, ma’am, no,” he replied as he walked away. He did have to wonder if his dog heard, or smelled something, but thought no more of it. Having received no surefire confirmations, he went on back home feeling a little relieved.
That vision he had of the riderless horse in the graveyard? As far as Matt was concerned, it was a product of his imagination, and nothing else. He had no foresight, and had never had what one might call a premonition. He didn’t believe in prophecy. Matt didn’t go and investigate the graveyard to see if he could find any evidence confirming his sleepy suspicions. He didn’t go look for trampled down grass near the tombstones. As a matter of fact, Matt had never set foot in that graveyard. Not once since he’d lived there. He’d never read the names, nor the dates engraved on the pocketed, mossy faces. He didn’t feel the need to get a close-up view of the legendary hanging tree. He’d never seen the rings worn into and around it’s lowest limb. He never let his curiosity get the best of him. If one were to ask him why he’d never visited the dead, he would have said, “I didn’t know any of those people, so I’ve never had a good reason to go there.” At this stage of his life, Matt thought that youth could conquer all, so he had nothing to fear…which is another way of saying, he wasn’t experienced.
Later that afternoon, Matt’s wife sent him out to get wood for the stove. She was sickened by the news her husband had brought home. She wished to forget the whole thing, and would do so by starting dinner, and fixing her mind on her work. Not wanting his dearest beloved to have another tizzy fit, Matt took to the task set before him right away, and went out to the back to fetch a few logs. The first thing he noticed was a change in the wind, which was now from the north, and much cooler. The skies were beginning to look hazy, and he knew he should expect there’d be rain or snow by morning. His forecasts he believed in. He was a hunter, so he knew these things. He wasn’t guessing. As he began to choose between the logs, he fell to daydreaming again. This time around it was about building a new house in the new city. For no good reason, he raised his head and broadly cast his gaze up the road. A half a mile or so away, he could see a cloud of dust being raised and blown about in the wind. Quicker than he could say ‘horses’, he thought he knew who it might be. Matt ran around to the other side of the stack, ducked down, and took off his hat. He didn’t know why, and didn’t question his motive. “I bet it’s Sam and his men,” he whispered to himself. The rolling sound of thunder was headed his way. They rode up fast and went right past, then he popped up his head to look. The big man at the head of the posse was Sam alright, and they seemed to be in a hurry. But as they reached the edge of town, they all pulled up right fast. Matt watched in suspense as Sam walked his horse over to the tree, stopped, looked up, and just stared at it for a minute…a long minute. He unhooked a long, winding rope from his saddle , and dropped it to the ground. Then just as fast as they’d stopped, Sam yanked at the reins, took off with a start and his men followed him south down the road. The cloud of dust was reborn, and was closing in on their heels. The northern winds were right behind, pushing them away from Bedlam.
November 8, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, burning churches, death by hanging, Deputy's, devils, evil, ghost towns, guns, hanging trees, knots, manhunts, Marshalls, murder mysteries, pistols, posses, prisoners, rifles, scary stories, seesaws, swings, treehouses, tug of war, Uncle Tree, westerns
Sam knew Luke had a swing in his backyard. Everyone in town knew of it. They were used to seeing children playing back there. It was sort of like the town’s park. Luke had also crudely fashioned a seesaw for them to play on, using a short-legged sawhorse and a long, wooden plank. Plans were underway to build a treehouse up in the same elm that held the swing. He’d already finished the ladder, and had hoped to begin the rest of the work next spring. They had yet to see any kids come over on this day. Parents were worried over their safety, after all that had gone on the night before, and had kept their children in-house for good reason. Until the killer was caught, there’d be no playing outside.
Luke went on out the back to see what it was that they wanted. He was working up the gall to say ‘no’, just in case. His frazzled nerves made him feel anxious again, easily and quickly. As soon as Sam saw him open the door, he began to speak. “Hey, Luke! I was hoping you’d do me a favor.” Luke held his breathe, and raised his eyebrows, then responded nervously,”What do you need, Sam?” Sam noticed the worried look on Luke’s face, and put his mind to ease at once. “No, it’s not that. We don’t need you to go along with us.” Luke sighed in relief. “Here’s the deal,” Sam began. “Our Deputy Marshall has just sworn us in. It is now official. We have lawful orders to carry out. We will assist the Deputy in this manhunt. We are to bring our stranger back alive, if at all possible. From what we’ve heard, the murderer doesn’t even carry a gun, which is hard to believe. Of course, we know he carries a knife, and it’s likely to be the murder weapon. That’s not a problem, he’ll be no match against us. We did ask around. Nobody saw him wearing a pistol. No one saw a rifle in his saddle. He bought no ammunition while he was here. The man must be crazy. That’s plain stupid. Anyway, he’ll be an easy catch, if we can find him, that is. I think I know where he’s off to. The Deputy is staying here to keep watch over the town. He’ll send word out to his boss, the nearest Marshall, on the next train that comes through. It’s due tomorrow.”
“Here’s the problem, Luke. It’s nothing much. We need a long, strong rope, like that one over there, the one you’re using for a swing,” Sam continued. Luke jumped all over that admission, and sarcastically replied, “I thought you said ‘alive’…that you’d bring him back alive.” Sam wasted no time, “No. It’s not that. We don’t need it to hang him. Heaven’s to Betsy, no. We have some smaller rope to tie his hands behind his back. But I hear he has a mighty fine horse, and I want to get it back here. If I can work things out, I hope to keep it. I need a rope like yours, so we can pull it along behind us. I don’t want it getting away. So, what do you say? I’ll bring it back to you just as soon as I can. If anything happens to it, I’ll buy you another. We don’t have time to mess around right now. The man has a pretty good head start on us as it is, and we need to take off here shortly, or just as soon as we can. I’m sure you understand.” Sam had kept a serious look on his face during the whole explanation, and his eyes never left their target. That didn’t matter to Luke. He thought it was a lame excuse for wanting the rope. “He’s a hankerin’ for a hangin’, if anything,” he silently spoke to himself.
“Well, since you put it that way, I suppose so.” Luke was doing his best to act enthused over the whole deal. “No problem, Sam. No problem at all. The kids won’t miss it for a day or two. Besides, most of them will be stuck in their houses for awhile. I’ll climb right on up and untie the knots. It’ll only take a few. Hang on a minute, and I’ll go get it.” But before he could take two steps, Sam stopped him. “That’s alright, Luke. Don’t bother. We’ll get it down, no problem. Thanks a lot! You’ve saved us some time. It may take us a day or two. I want you showing up at the ranch Monday, no matter what. My help will be expecting you. They’ll show you around, and you can see what’s what. I know your a self-starter, so I’m sure you can find some work to do. We’ll be back as soon as we can, by Tuesday at least, with or without him. Don’t you worry about us now. I’ve been through this before. We’ll get ‘er done. Okay?” Sam appeared self-assured, as usual. Luke wasn’t at all happy after he heard the idea, but he continued to be agreeable. He had many fond memories tied up in that rope, and he didn’t want to lose them altogether in one shot. Luke knew it was silly to think about it like that, but he did it anyway, and quite naturally, in fact.
“Sure, Sam, sure,” answered Luke, thinking as he spoke. “Oh, yes. I’ll be there Monday, you can count on it. Sounds great!” Luke had thought of some questions while Sam was speaking, and he finally remembered what they were. “Can I ask you something? I was wondering. You know, that foreigner doesn’t speak English. How will he know why he’s being tied up and made prisoner? I mean, how would he even confess? Do you hope to find the pastor’s blood on his knife, or what? Won’t you need some kind of evidence?”
Sam had already asked himself these questions, so he already knew the answers. “Yes, Luke, evidence would help, if it comes to that. Blood on his hands, especially. I think he’ll know the why’s, though. Do you think he didn’t turn around once and look at the fire? Even if he didn’t start it, I surely think he’d of noticed, or heard your cry for help and looked back. As far as the confession goes, a simple nod either way will suffice. We’ll just stand that bastard in front of the burnt down church. Excuse my language. I think he’ll get the picture, if he hadn’t figured it out by then.” Luke was regularly struck by Sam’s unending show of confidence. Yesterday’s hero had a small sliver of doubt in his mind, concerning the stranger’s guilt. It was acting like a thorn stuck in his side, painfully and constantly pricking away. He’d yet to get beyond the shadow.
November 7, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, death by hanging, detainees, devils, escapades, evil, ghost towns, grub, hanging on, legends, magic, mourning, murder, mysteries, myths, nerves, scary stories, silence
Luke could tell right away what sort of mood these men were in. It was a solemn gathering of somber faces. Grave and thoughtful looks were thrown in Luke’s direction. Restrained and quiet greetings were exchanged with subdued handshakes. They were still in a state of shock. Their postures betrayed the show of feelings they willfully withheld, and revealed a composed distress. None of the men were displaying the signs of anger. Some of the men had good reason to be remorseful. They’d refrained from helping to build the church, and it was too late to mend things aright. A silence fell over the group. They were all gazing at Luke. No one knew what to say, or how to start. Matthew, from Bedlam, wasn’t taking this as hard as the rest of the men. He was the man out of place at the moment, even though he was fairly well acquainted with Luke. Matthew had the nerve to take the lead and break the ice. “It’s good to know you’re okay, Luke, after all that you’ve been through. We are all deeply saddened by the news. ” Luke kept his peace and let him talk. ” Could you do us a favor? We’ve so many questions. If you could spare the time, would you tell us what happened last night? We’ve only heard bits and pieces regarding your escapades so far, and it’s just hearsay. We’d like to hear the story straight from the horses mouth, so to speak. We don’t wish to detain you, if you have to be somewhere soon. Do tell us, if you would. We’re dying to hear you speak. Are you busy?”
*
Thus it was that Luke began the second telling of his story. This was the meeting that was first mentioned in our short, but hopefully poignant introduction. After all was said and done, Matthew was the one who picked up this story and set it on it’s legs. He is the one we have to be thankful to for this tale. Much of the information contained in the remainder of our story was supplied by Matt, as we shall call him from here on out. He’d known Luke for a year or so, and they were both 28 years of age. Good friends they would become one day, a little further on down the road. Matt was the kind of man who couldn’t help but to stretch the factual truth whenever the opportunity presented itself. We may say in all likelyhood, that he did so in this instance as well. He was a socialite and a gossip, and no doubt the story grew exponentially each and every time he spoke of it. After he relayed this to my great-grandfather, we may assume this growth was continued, and took on mythical aspects as it came on down from Gramps, who handed it over to me, Uncle Tree. As we are well aware, legends have a tendency to take on a life of their own, and life in it’s turn tends to unwind the real.
*
Luke goes on to tell the men a shortened version of his adventurous night, minus his terrible secret. He was tired and hungry, and wanted to get on home. They quizzed him here and there, in order to confirm, or reject, certain aspects of the story that they’d already heard from unreliable sources. Word gets around fast in small towns, and some of the information they’d received was therefore skewed, and exaggerated, as are all rumors. They also wanted to know about the meeting from which he’d just left. They’d seen Sam and his men ride into town, and wondered what they were up to over at the deputy’s office. Luke refrained from telling them the whole truth of the matter. He said, “They are thinking about forming a posse, and going after that foreigner.” They tried to get him to expand on that quick statement, but Luke replied, “That’s all I know. Nothing was settled when I left.” Luke turned to Matt, “That stranger is our only suspect. He took off to the south, and headed for Bedlam. Was there any trouble there last night, or did you happen to notice anything strange?”
Matt replied, “Not that I’m aware of, Luke. I’m ready to head back now. I’ll get out and ask around, just in case. You know, there’s only a few of us left down there. It shouldn’t take me very long. I’ll definitely keep an eye out, though. A posse, eh? Well, someone needs to go after him. It’s a good thing your new boss has the time for such things. Maybe, I’ll see them ride through later on today. I’m sure glad you’re not joining them, whatever the case. You’ve done enough, if you ask me. You did more than anyone could’ve asked of you. Those two kids owe you their life! Thank God, you were able to save them at least. You should be grateful for that. We all should be.”
Now that Luke had recaptured the whole bloody scene for Matt and the group, he was once again able free himself from the grips of all those painful memories. Everyone thoughtfully parted, and Luke went on home to eat. He was starving for some grub, and didn’t really care what his wife put on the table, as long as it was ‘people food’. As it turned out, they had leftovers consisting of cold fried chicken and warmed up grits. Luke told her of his thoughts concerning an adoption. She said it was a high-minded gesture on his part. When Luke heard that, he was puzzled, and gave her a questioning look. She immediately changed her tune, and said it was a good idea. She agreed wholeheartedly, or so it seemed to Luke. After lunch with the two boys, they all sat down and talked it out. The boys were a bit taken back by the proposal, but that’s the way kids are, always wanting to be the center of attention. They soon warmed up to the idea, but frowned at the arrangements. Shortly after their little discussion, both Luke and his wife heard the distinct sound of horses galloping towards their place. They pulled up, and stopped the stampede right in their backyard. They were both startled at first, and then Luke said, “It’s probably Sam and his men. Don’t worry. I promise you, I will not go along with them. Let me go see what they want. Stay here.”
In the meanwhile, Matt got on his horse and headed back to Bedlam. He fell to daydreaming on the slow ride home. His memory and imagination together conspired to show him a scene in his mind. He saw that old hanging tree back home with the graveyard close behind. But that’s not all he visualized. He also saw a black stallion grazing around the rustic tombstones. No one was in the saddle. That woke Matt right up. He yelled at his horse, “Giddyup! Giddyup! C’mon, let’s go! Get a move on!”
November 5, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, coincidences, death by hanging, devils, evil, fiends, ghost towns, horseplay, insanity, murders, occult, rendezvous, scary stories, superstitions, trains of thought, witchcraft
Luke was a man of two minds as he walked away. After the questionable interrogation, he could tell there were two disparate emotions vying for his attention. He was happy, and he felt more free that morning. He’d been released, and loosened up a bit. Luke could feel it in his stride. His job was still intact, although he’d already begun to have second thoughts concerning his new boss. He’d come to a conclusion that was as obvious to him as the nose on his face. For the most part, Sam was a domineering character. He could be overwhelmingly forceful in dealing with his subordinates. That he could plainly see. Thank goodness, he hadn’t treated him like that. Not yet anyway. But Luke knew there’d come a time, if he worked there long enough. He figured he’d better not act like he had at his last job. He was prone to fart around, and engage in horseplay. He enjoyed goofing off when the cat was away. His own behavior had gotten out of hand sometimes, and he’d certainly have to watch his step around Sam, and carefully scrutinize his offhand remarks before blurting them out. It didn’t take much to make Sam irate. If someone pissed him off, he’d immediately become obnoxious and bite their heads off. But Sam was also fair, and paid his workers good wages. Luke needed the money, for sure. So in that respect, Luke was happy for himself, and for his family. He felt fortunate. The state of gratitude lingered very close by, but he couldn’t absorb it in it’s entirety. There were too many other thoughts of a different nature holding him back from total bliss.
Luke almost felt guilty for being happy after others had been so hurt. “Those two poor children…,” were on Luke’s mind as he continued his walk home. Much had happened, and most of it was sad. He’d been so busy during the last twelve hours, that he’d yet to find the time to mourn. Grieved by the loss, and troubled by the whole situation, Luke began to think. He wondered if there were anything he could do to help. It broke his heart to think about them. “They’ve done nothing to deserve this. And now…what are they facing? An orphanage someplace far, far way most likely.” Then , as if from out of nowhere, an idea bopped him upside the head. Luke continued to talk and question himself. “Hey! Wait a minute! Why can’t we adopt them? Won’t I be able to afford to do something like that now? It wouldn’t be that much trouble…would it? I’ll ask the sweet, loving mother of my children as soon as I get home. She already likes them, and all the kids get along when they’re together, so why not?” After the birth of their last son, his wife could no longer bear children. At that time, the doctor’s news had made Luke depressed, for he had hoped to have a little girl someday, too. “I think we can do this. The young boy will come around, given enough time. That girl though…man, she is simply adorable.”
Luke wouldn’t do this sort of thing to gain favor with the Lord. It never, ever would have crossed his mind. He liked to feel good about himself, and his accomplishments, as do most people. He did good for goodness sake, not for God’s sake. He didn’t believe there was some kind of divine scoring system, no. He acted according to the dictates of his own conscience. He knew that he was the only one who had to sleep with the man in the mirror, the man he saw every morning upon waking. That’s who he had to please to be at peace within himself. The very thought of adopting those two kids eased his mind and lightened his step. But he was far from feeling totally at ease. You see, there were these other thoughts that kept bugging him. Those other thoughts centered around that stranger…that murderer…that fiend.
Let’s listen in on Luke’s train of thoughts at that exact moment. He was about to wrestle his own demons. “It’s all so incredible…I can’t understand it…What kind of maniac could commit such a barbaric act?…A savage, maybe…or, so I’ve been told. But a civilized man? No way…That stranger…every indication…his appearance, especially…reminds me of a rich man from a big city…Everything about him…sophisticated, and well-bred. How bizarre! Why in the world would he want a useless human heart? What’s he going to do with it?…Oh, God, no. He wouldn’t eat it. That’s disgusting! What then?…I have no idea…It’s unthinkable! Dastardly…and definitely evil…definitely. It’s…it’s…insane…it’s madness…and demented. This was the work of the devil’s brood. There’s no other explanation…might it have something to do with witchcraft?…The occult?…I’ve heard stories…weird…what does it matter now, anyway?…It’s done, and over with…Appearances can be deceiving. I know that…but, if it was that foreigner, Sam and his men could be in for more trouble than they expect…What if they don’t find him?…Sam’s pretty smart…they probably will…if that’s the case, they’re headed for a dangerous rendezvous…and they don’t know it…I didn’t tell them about that…was that a mistake?…Should I run back and tell them?…Ah, those kids…I can’t do that to them…No way in hell!…even if it ruins the town. I can’t. “
This was Luke’s presentiment. He had a vague, uneasy feeling in his gut. “Maybe, I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. Lunch sounds good about now. I wonder what she’s cooking up…I could eat a horse.” As Luke neared the grocery store, he noticed a group of men gathered together in front of the place. They were all looking in his direction. Luke turned around to see if there were someone behind him. No, there wasn’t. They were looking at him, and waving him over. “This is what Sam was talking about. He was right.” As he closed in on the group, he recognized all their familiar faces. “Matt’s here, too. I’ll have to ask him if there was any trouble in Bedlam last night. The stranger was headed in that direction. Maybe, he didn’t stop. Maybe, he went right on through. I sure hope so.”
November 3, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, coercion, coincidences, death by hanging, devils, ethics, evil, ghost towns, hauntings, heroes, justice, moral dilemmas, murder, scary story, superstition, wild west
Luke cringed in his chair after hearing Sam mention a hanging. He wasn’t at all sure if Sam meant for him to join this posse or not. He’d never in his life committed a crime, as far as he was concerned. White lies don’t count, and that one time he ‘borrowed’ a tool, he returned it, so there was really no harm done on his account. Luke didn’t see himself as being particularly capable of helping Sam carry out a plan like that, and more than likely it was showing on his face. He thought, “Sam doesn’t know me all that well. I should speak up.”
After hearing Sam’s pointed question, the deputy’s heart started, and his pulse quickened. His first response was physical. His fear and anxiety made him straighten up in his chair. His first thought was, “Sam’s going to ring my neck, if I say no.” Therefore he hesitated, and silence permeated the air. Now everyone was on edge, and nervous. All except for Sam, that is. He was always sure of himself, and he thought he knew beforehand exactly what the deputy was going to say. The deputy knew Sam was waiting to hear, “Yes. It’s okay. Go ahead. It’s fine with me. Do what you want, sir.” But our fine officer also had a future to consider. He wished to be a sheriff some day, Lord willing, so he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. He wanted no part of this, even though it was sort of his job to enforce the law, and catch the bad guys. To calm himself, the deputy decided to give Sam what he felt was a reasonable answer, one that was in line with his badge. ”Sam…sir, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”
Sam raised his voice for the deaf man, and repeated himself, “Can we? Can we hang the murderer if we catch him? Yes or no.” Sam paused ever so slightly, then grinning he shouted, “Wait! You’re right. After we catch that sonuvabitch, we’ll bring him to you, deputy. We’ll bring him back safe and sound, and you can lock him up in your bedroom, and teach him some manners. Is that what you want?” Sam didn’t give the deputy time to answer. Instead, he turned to Luke who was sitting close by. Sam changed his angry facial expression to one of a more sympathetic nature. The tone of his authoritative voice transformed into one of a more consolatory fashion. “Luke…listen, I can see your troubled by this. No need to be. I never said I was going to hang anyone. As you heard, I was only asking the deputy a question.” Sam turned and glared once again at the deputy, “Hold your tongue for a minute, and think about it!” But Sam was the one who needed a minute. He figured Luke had heard enough of this conversation. Perhaps, too much. It was time to send him on his way.
Sam had never intended on taking Luke along with him and his men. After the interview of the night before, Sam could tell Luke was an honest young man. The type of man who attempted to stay true to his faith, and act accordingly. Sam desperately needed someone he could trust back at the ranch. He saw no reason to try and teach him otherwise. But there were several factors weighing in on his decision. On the one hand, Luke was the lone witness, and they couldn’t afford to let anything bad happen to him. On the other hand, Luke wasn’t cut out for such a thing as aggressive enforcement of the law. And frankly, it appeared to Sam that Luke was still in recovery. His face was pale, his eyes were watery, and his gestures slow moving. Lastly, and possibly the most important reason of all, was that Sam hated being upstaged, especially by someone like him.
Facing Luke once again, Sam prepared to give him a good send off. It was high time for Luke to begin a daylong sentimental journey. “I wasn’t planning to take you along, so relax. You had a very rough night, and probably didn’t get much sleep. You may take your leave now. Go on home. Enjoy your wife. Enjoy your kids. I bet everyone in town wishes to talk to you. Go bask in your glory for a day, if you know what I mean.” Sam winks at Luke. “You’re a hero because of what you did last night. No need to take on another challenge so soon. These here men, along with me of course, we can and will take care of this. Don’t you worry about it. I want you healthy, and in tip-top shape come Monday when you report for your first day of work. Now, go and take care of yourself, and your family. They’re probably worried about you. Go and comfort them.” As a code of honor, and a sign of their agreement, Sam walked up to Luke for the fellowship contained in a handshake.
Luke is perfectly relieved by the news. He stood up smiling and grabbed Sam’s hand with a fairly strong grip, and lifted it up and down. Luke tried to conceal his current state of exaltation. “Well, okay, sir. If you don’t need me right now, I’ll do as you say. I am pretty tired. Goodbye, and good luck with…whatever it is you decide to do!” Luke nodded to his future co-workers with a look of optimism on his face. Then he turned back in the direction of the deputy. Luke put on a face of acceptable resignation, and silently waved to him as if to say, “Oh, well.” Opening the exit door, he turned back to the rest of the men in the room room, and waved, “See y’all later!”
Sam would have one more tiny favor to ask of Luke that day, but he hadn’t realized it quite yet. No sooner than Luke had shut the door, Sam turned back to the deputy and calmly said, “Your turn.”
November 1, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, coincidences, death by hanging, devils, evil, hauntings, heroes, justice, moral dilemmas, murder, Purgatory, scary stories, superstitions, the gold rush, the wild west
Luke spent most of the morning torturing himself over a certain secret, and the type of confession he would deliver to the deputy in the form of a testimonial. He liked to think of himself as an honest man. He was raised to believe that honesty was the best policy. But was it? In every case? He was beginning to believe otherwise. The ‘talking to’ he gave himself went something like this: “What harm is there in withholding this kind of information? Besides, if I answer truthfully with a full disclosure, it will only exacerbate the future consequences that shall stem from this particular crime. It wouldn’t diminish the hardships that are sure to follow for all those concerned, namely those two kids. No, on the contrary, it would definitely increase the extent of the damages done for many years to come. Those kids have been through enough. Haven’t they? Why make matters worse? And what about our town? We want folks to move here. We wish ours to be a thriving community. We’re just getting started. On the whole, we simply can’t afford to let this kind of news get out and damage our town’s reputation. It’s not worth it. Well then, the matter is closed. I will not tell all. No way.”
Around 10 o’clock that morning, Luke headed out and made his way to the deputy’s office. The town had yet to build a jail, and they were still waiting for a sheriff to be appointed to their region. The deputy had been sent there as a lawful, temporary keeper of the peace. He was a meek and timid man who’d had an easy go of it, so far. The town was fairly crime-free before he arrived, and had stayed that way since he’d taken on the job. The horrible goings-on of the night before were unlike any he’d ever seen, and he was beside himself as to what he should do next, and how he would go about carrying out the law, given what he had to work with, which wasn’t much. He was expecting Luke that morning, but not the group of men who showed up a few minutes prior to Luke’s appearance. It was Luke’s new boss, Sam was his name, accompanied by a half a dozen of his hired-hands. The deputy knew Sam as the most powerful man in town, and thus showed him all due respect at all times, and at every event.
They’d come to town to shop for food and whatnot. While in the store they heard the news, and now they’d come to see what was being done about it. Sam wasn’t too happy when he saw the deputy sitting there, basically doing nothing. As Luke’s employer, he was doubly impressed to learn that the man he’d just hired was the new hero in town. He was also saddened and troubled when he got word of what all happened. Sam, by the way, was not averse to killing. He’d been out West for awhile, and had had to defend himself more than once. The results had been death for his opponents. Being a rich landowner, when it came to taking the law into one’s own hands, he knew the ropes, so to speak. A killer was on the loose, and he therefore intended on doing whatever was necessary to apprehend the criminal. Then he’d mete out justice according to the unspoken rules of the wild.
Luke knew going in there what he would say, and how he would say it. He knew that if he told them he saw the foreigner leaving town just as the fire had gotten started, and that he was the only one he’d seen outside in the vicinity at that time, then obviously they’d have to assume that the stranger was the guilty party. Instinctively, Luke had his doubts concerning that assumption, but he also looked at the big picture, and by that I mean the future. This was his town, too, and he wanted the best for his family. Someone was going to pay for this, and they only had one suspect. He had to tell them who he’d seen. Whatever happened after that was beyond his control. That he knew. Furthermore, there’d be no more blood on his hands, not if he could help it.
Luke walked in and received a warm reception. Everyone wanted to shake his hand, and tell him what sort of hero he’d been. Luke had no way of knowing his new employer would be there. It threw him for a loop, and knocked him somewhat off balance. Sam was proud of him, no doubt, and told him as much in no uncertain terms. Luke was flattered, but also embarrassed from all the attention. Sam proceeded to take over the whole affair from there, and the deputy shrank back into the corner. “Have a seat, Luke, and tell us what all happened. No need to spare the details. We’re all men here.”
Even though Luke had just been through hell, he was none the worse for wear. He enabled himself to remain calm, and gave an overall coherent account of what he’d seen, and what he’d done. Here and there he’d feel the need to explain himself. Naturally, he got emotional, and as you might expect, a few teary rough spots were encountered. When it was time to skip the unbelievable part of the story, his heart began to race and he stammered a bit. But keep it to himself he did. The secret was his, and his alone. He already felt it’s weight.
Sam thanked Luke for the pertinent information. It was enough, and it was all he needed. There was a suspect, and they had sufficient cause to go after him. The evidence was circumstantial. No motive could be comprehended. That didn’t matter to Sam, he could overlook those things. What they needed was justice, and someone to blame. They already had the latter, and he’d take care of the former. Then Sam put forth his plan.
Sam glared at the deputy, “If my men will help to form a posse, will you swear us in?” The deputy immediately consented. Raising one eyebrow and wearing a smirk, Sam asks, “Will it be legal? Officially, that is?” The deputy replied, “I think so. At least, I’m fairly sure it would be, sir. I know the words, all you’ll have to do is raise your right hands, and repeat after me.” Sam was content with his answer. The law would be on their side. He offered his men a substantial bonus, and asked them if they’d agree to join him in this endeavor. They all nodded in agreement and subtle trepidation. “Good!” Sam continued, “As you know, we have no way to keep this man jailed up and locked away. I say we swap the speedy trial for a speedier delivery of the penalty. It might be months before we could get a court and judge to convene. We haven’t the time nor the patience to wait around, for who knows how long? That foreigner is guilty. Who else could it be? We have a witness.” Sam turns to Luke and smiles. “He is trustworthy, and comes highly recommended.” Luke remained silent, and kept a straight face.
“Now, deputy, answer me this,” says Sam with an imploring tone. “If we catch this vicious, wanted murderer…can we hang ‘em high tonight? Yes, or no, deputy. Answer me at once!”
October 31, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, death by hanging, devils, evil, fool moons, ghost towns, Halloween, hauntings, justice, life after death, murder, Purgatory, scary stories, superstitions, the gold rush
Fortunately for Luke, his second cry for help was heard. A couple of men he knew from his neighborhood heeded his call. They came running over to give aid if they could. Upon arriving they could see that they had probably gotten there too late. The men found the children kneeling between their dear mother and older brother. “Oh, my! What happened?” asked the elder of the two men. The ladies shortly filled them in. The more nervous of the two women said, “Luke went around the back. No more than two minutes ago or so. Hurry on and go help the poor man! Will ya?” Then the little girl spoke out earnestly, “Daddy’s in there, too!” By now she was thoroughly shaking and trembling in her fright. The young boy seemed to be taking it all in pretty well, given the circumstances, but he was obviously fighting back the tears, and trying to act like a big boy.
The men dashed on and away to the back. They could tell that the fire had reached it’s peak, and weren’t sure if they’d go in there or not for any reason. It was a death trap. That much was for certain. No one in there could possibly be alive. Luckily for them, they were too late, and didn’t have to make the choice. They found an unconscious Luke lying on his belly, way too close to danger. No sight of the pastor anywhere. The full moon was bright up above them that night, and they could plainly see the blood on the palms of both hands, and also on his pants from the knees on down. By the looks of him they could tell he’d just come out from inside the place. Seeing him there like that scared the living daylights out of the two of them, and they feared the worst. “Luke! Luke! Wake up!” Each of the men grabbed an arm. They lifted him halfway off the ground, and started dragging him away to safety.
Next thing Luke knows, two men are pulling him along on the ground. He starts coughing and gagging again. “It’s alright, Luke! We got you,” said the young man fervently. “Are you alright?” Groggy and delirious Luke replies in a rough and barely audible voice, “Preacher man…in there…gotta get ‘em out.” The older man firmly tells him, “It’s no use, Luke. It’s too late. You’re lucky to have made it out alive. No one’s going in there now. I won’t allow it. It’s over. You did all you could. Those two kids out front are alive because of you. Thank God for that!” To the younger one he says, “This man needs a drink. Go get him some water. Pronto!”
October 31st, 1869
Luke wakes up in bed the next morning after a restless night’s sleep. Every move he’d made during his ‘rescue mission’ kept flashing through his mind in off sequence bits and pieces. He began to ponder over the stranger. What his motive for committing such a horrendously bloody murder might possibly have been, he couldn’t say. Then it occurred to Luke that he didn’t have to tell everyone about everything he had seen. He thought, “Wasn’t it enough that the pastor’s throat had been slit? Why put their kids through all that senseless rigmarole? What difference does it make anyway?” He knew he’d have to go visit the deputy that day. Luke’s conscience notified him of the fact that he was now considering keeping this terrible secret all to himself. His own mirror suggested to him that it might not be a good idea, and that it would be something he’d often remember, all the rest of his life. Deep down in his soul, Luke knew he’d make the right choice when the timely moment of decision presented itself.
October 31, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, death by hanging, devils, evil, full moons, ghost towns, Halloween, hauntings, justice, life after death, murder, Purgatory, scary stories, superstitions, the gold rush
Luke wasn’t about to rush into the fire ill-prepared. Though he needed to preserve his strength, there was something above and beyond that, and that was his life. He wasn’t ready to make that kind of sacrifice for another. He couldn’t afford to lose his neck over this. He had to be cautious, and no buts about it. He had a wife and kids at home who needed him…who loved him. As he trotted slowly towards the back of the now defunct church, towards this place that was built for the sole purpose of worshiping God, Luke knew he had to make it back out alive. He simply had to. That was his first priority. “The pastor might not be in there anyway.” Yes, for a moment our hero fancied that the preacher man wasn’t in the inferno at all, but that hope was short-lived. His gut feeling was, that he was.
A few steps later, Luke was struck by the sight of this ongoing blaze. His perception finally led him to think, “I have to be stupid to be doing this.” At that exact moment, his memory brought up a good point. It allowed him to remember the last time he’d used that word. It was when he’d called the stranger ’stupid’ for leaving town that very night. “Oh, my God! Did he start this? Why would he do such a thing? He wasn’t even running away.” But he’d made it around to the back by now, and he hadn’t the time to question himself. As Luke stood right there in front of the door, his fears came to the surface once again.
He paused for a moment of reflection, then thought it best to put forth an earnest plea to God Almighty, even though he was more than a little upset with Him and His Will. He sighed, and shook a bowed head, “It’s all stupid.” But Luke was a man of habit, so he stuck to his guns and prayed out loud, “Lord, have mercy on me.” Then silently he added, “After all…this is your house!” Luke had been led into temptation, but this was no time to argue, and he took a breathe as deep as he could to ready and steady himself.
Not wishing to waste any more precious seconds, Luke kicked the door with the bottom of his boot smack-dab beside the handle. It flew open. He ducked and covered his head with his arms as the smoke and heat rushed out. Two seconds later he opened his eyes, and peered into the building. He didn’t like what he saw. The light from the flames could dimly be seen flickering here and there. He couldn’t make anything out, except for the floor at his feet. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled through the doorway. “Hello? Hello? Anybody in there?” But no answer came forth. He wasn’t surprised. Luke visualized the last time he’d been in the church. He remembered that there was a low platform not far from where he was right then. A piano and a pulpit were the only things on it. He’d seen and heard the pastor in there a couple of days before, rehearsing his first sermon. Luke then aimed himself for center stage.
The wooden floors had begun to absorb the heat, and felt warm on his hands. Creeping along quickly, Luke soon reached the platform. He got himself up on it and continued on anxiously. Barreling ahead, he suddenly ran his shoulder into the piano. “Almost there.” He slowed down in order to see better, but the dark grey smoke was thickening fast. Using both hands, he reached and searched around on the floor as he moved along. Just a little further on he touched something hard. “Ah, here it is.” Luke stuck his right arm out in front of him, and waved it back and forth, afraid of what he might touch next. He was hectically zig-zagging here and there when his left hand felt a cool wetness. He looked down at a puddle of blood. Instantly Luke became dizzy and felt even more nauseous. His right hand reflexively covered his mouth, as he stared aghast at the other hand and gagged. In a fit of determination, he willed himself to move and follow the dark red trail. A second later he found what he was looking for, but it was worse than he expected. He blinked and squinted to get a better view, hoping his eyes had deceived him. No such luck.
The pastor’s throat had been slit. He lay there on his back with both arms straight out to the sides. His shirt had been ripped open, and there was a large gash at the bottom of his rib cage on the left side. It was a deep, wide, gory open wound. It appeared to Luke as if someone had taken a knife and cut out his heart. But he couldn’t make himself believe it. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever do such a thing, and he made himself ignore the very thought of it. The silver cross that the pastor wore at all times was still around his neck, hanging off to the side. Blood continued to flow from his throat, and on down the chain. Drip after drip, it dropped from the cross and onto the killing floor. Luke was stunned! His own heart skipped a beat. The cruelty behind the whole horrid scene became too much for Luke to bear. Tears of grief streamed down his cheeks from his burning, inflamed eyes, blurring his vision. Luke convulsively shivered and shook from his head down to his toes. He turned his head to the side and vomited, adding the contents of his stomach to the gross pool of blood. He felt the nearness of death in his own person, and he knew he had to act quickly.
His first thought was to grab the still warm corpse by the feet and drag it out. He could leave it behind the church, so the children wouldn’t have to see this gruesome sight, a sight they’d surely remember for the rest of their lives. With an abrupt realization, Luke felt that his heart was beating at too rapid of a pace, and he found himself gasping for air right then and there. All the symptoms of asphyxiation were settling into his system. He had to get out, and get out now before he fainted. That much he knew. He looked around at the flames of destruction in order to size up the situation, to see if he could buy himself a little more time. In his current state of confusion, he concluded that he did. He’d leave the body there for now, and come back for it as soon as he’d recovered a bit. Begrudgingly, he turned himself around and began crawling towards the exit. Luke was fast losing his strength. It took everything he had to close the distance between him and the door.
He’d only barely made it through the doorway when he collapsed and hit the ground. He lay there in a heap, all sprawled out on his front side. His head was throbbing in pain, and his clothes were soaked in sweat. “I’ll go back in in a minute…need a few seconds…need to rest.” His thoughts dropped away and he shut his eyes. He fell unconscious an instant later.
October 29, 2009
· Filed under short stories · Tagged bedlam, death by hanging, demons, evil, full moons, ghost towns, Halloween, hauntings, justice, life after death, murder, Purgatory, scary stories, souls, superstitions, the gold rush
Luke was shaken to the core by the little girl’s question, but it was all the inspiration he needed to do what must be done. Determined to carry out her wish to the fullest measure, Luke vanquished any and all misgivings he had about going back in there. He didn’t hesitate for a moment, even though he was putting his own life on the line in doing so. The little cozy home had turned into a fiery furnace, and he hastened to make his way through the harsh smoke. It had worsened. Thick and all-encompassing, the dark gray fumes escaped through every nook and cranny. Smoke was enveloping the entire house, and Luke was doing his best to remain calm and collected.
Once at the entrance, he could vaguely tell the furniture had also begun to go up in flames. To the smell of burning wood, the upholstery added another dimension. The foul stench and stinking scents forced Luke to take short, quick breathes and he remained close to the floor as he coursed through and around the dangerous obstacles in his path. Once safely into the bedroom, he found the bed and attempted to awaken the mother one last time, even though he knew it’d be useless. Luke’s instincts informed him that he needed to get out of there immediately! He got down on his knees and pulled her onto and over his shoulder. She was a heavy load, but he would bear the burden. He slowly stood up and found his balance, then lugged her out the bedroom door. He was feeling the weight, and physical exhaustion was settling in from exertion and lack of oxygen. Finally, they reached the front door and stepped out. Just in the nick of time! They were only a few feet out into the yard when he heard the crash of the roof caving in right behind them.
Luke spotted the children on the grass, and continued walking directly at them to bring them their most precious possession. “These kids have lost their mother, their brother, and possibly their father, too! How on earth do I tell them? What’ll I say now?” he pondered. The little girl and boy were now huddled around their big brother. He sees two older ladies coming quickly towards them in bedclothes and house robes. “It’s about time someone showed up,” he thought with a sense of relief. But they had already been bewitched by the magic of the huge, healthy fire, and it’s hypnotic effects were apparent. Luke could see it in their eyes. “Not much help,” he mumbled to himself in his frustration.
Feeling his strength draining away, Luke reaches the children and goes down on one knee, gently laying their mother beside their brother. “Mommy? Mommy? What’s wrong?” the kids ask, as they rush over and surround her. Their sobs increased tremendously, because now they knew something was wrong. Very wrong! Luke backed away a bit in a moment of indecision. Looking at the two children…blackened from the smoke, but alive and basically unscathed…seeing them there in a panic, confused by the concept of death…all together now…the whole scene for Luke was bewildering. Coming out of this perplexed state of mind was made easier for him as the ladies arrived. They seemed to understand what all had happened without even asking. Luke had been wrong about those two not being able to help, and he felt sorry for having assumed as much.
Luke stared in amazement at what used to be a home, and realized just how lucky he’d been. His gaze lands on the church again, then it strikes him. “I have to go in there?” He looks back at the kids, “Is that where your father is?” The two worried little ones nod in the affirmative. Luke knew he must steady himself, although he had no time to waste. He concentrated on gathering up his strength and courage by taking a deep breathe, but as soon as he tried, he activated a coughing fit. Beads of perspiration instantly formed on his forehead. An invigorating cool breeze caught him by surprise, and sent chills up and down his spine. He shivered and shook for a moment or two. “Take little breathes,” he told himself, and he found that this he could do. This small amount of brisk air sprung him back to life somewhat, and alerted him to his current predicament. Now having the will to go on, he clearly saw the task set before him. “I must go get their father,” was the only thought he had. The strength behind this thought banished any and all fears from his person.
Until, that is, he took his first foreboding step towards the inflamed building. Doubt has a way of getting around the strongest of wills, and Luke was no exception to this rule. He knew he had a fight on his hands, and that it was going to take place inside him. The front half of the church was getting the worst of it, so he headed on around to the back door where fear would meet hope head on.
