Pada

Eric had no idea where they were going. Earl decided he wanted to ask Laura out and that meant Eric was stuck with Jolene. That’s not to say that Jolene was unattractive. Bison found her absolutely charming. The four of them were bored and looking for a place to park where the smell of the pot wouldn’t attract attention. Earl was all over Laura in the back seat while Jolene wrung her hands nervously in the front next to Eric. For a brief moment he wondered why she would be doing this, but it very well could have been the distance they were putting between them and the nearest diner; this was never confirmed. The blue Nova moved quietly along the dark back-roads. The only sounds were coming from the tires rolling over gravel and heavy breathing from the back seat.
Suddenly, in the rear-view mirror, Eric saw Earl’s head come up. Earl looked into Eric’s eyes in the mirror and asked, “How ‘bout the cemetery?” Eric’s first thought was fuck that! Unfortunately, now was not the time to play “scaredy-cat”. If Eric was going to have any chance in hell of getting Jolene to put-out, he would have to hang onto whatever bravado he could muster. Hey, it was better than a blow-up doll with a slow leak and a potential for chafing.
Grande Oaks Cemetery was not the most cheerful place in town. As cemeteries go, it was pretty run down and the gothic overtones made it even more special. Eric drove through the open gates and parked just inside. Once the engine was off, everyone jumped out of the car accept Jolene. Her door remained closed and locked.
Earl leaned in through the driver’s-side window and said, “C’mon, don’t be a chicken. We’ll all protect you.” He smiled, obviously convinced that his greasy hair and corn-yellow teeth could somehow reassure her. Whether it was the hair or the teeth that did the trick, we’ll never know. Jolene slowly climbed from the car. Her face seemed even paler than usual in the glow of the distance street lamp. The moon added some light, but not much. Once Jolene was out of the car, her movements quickened as she hurried around the car to stand next to Eric. Her protector had been chosen.
As a group, the four of them moved deeper into the shadows of the gravestones and huge, moss-covered oak trees. They all agreed upon a spot next to a gravestone carved in the shape of a gargoyle. The gargoyle’s eyes seemed aware and watchful above the teeth and claws. Large wings on its back stretched high over its head as if preparing for flight. Earl proclaimed this particular grave the site of the next great joint-burning ceremony. They sat in a circle and waited as Earl pulled the joint from his faded, green wind-breaker and lit it.
Jolene looked over at Laura in her perfectly matched, designer outfit and wanted to heave. She was always so pretty and perfect. Laura’s hair was the perfect texture. Laura’s skin was always perfect and radiant. What Jolene couldn’t understand was why Laura always went for the extreme losers. Earl was not what you would call a “catch” by any means. Anyone in the Florence County jail could vouch for that. Now, Eric was different; Eric had a future. He was smart, attractive, and funny. Yet, it was painfully obvious that he was not interested in Jolene. It was also obvious that Laura only hung out with Jolene because Jolene wasn’t a threat. Not that Laura would ever have to worry about Jolene stealing any of her boyfriends.
A sound broke into Jolene’s thoughts. A sound from deeper in the cemetery had floated to her ears as the night breeze subtly increased. She refused the joint – especially after Earl’s lips had been on it – and stood, looking around.
“I thought I heard something”, she said. Laura and Earl laughed. Jolene shushed them.
“I’m not joking. I heard crackling, like someone walking on branches”.
The sound returned, louder this time. Everyone heard it. Eric was on his feet so fast he became light-headed for a moment. Earl and Laura followed suit. Laura thought the sound seemed to be more of a crunching sound than a crackling one. It almost sounded like chewing. It was rhythmic and started off loud, but trailed off just before becoming loud once again. Earl and Laura began slowly backing away towards the car. As soon as their backs touched metal, they both spun around and got in the backseat.
“Let’s go, man!” Earl yelled. Eric looked over at Jolene and saw that she was staring off into the dark. Her eyes were straining to see past the edge of light thrown by a lone streetlamp.
“We need to go, Jolene”, Eric said, but she didn’t move. Suddenly, Jolene’s eyes stopped searching. They were fixed on a point in the distance. Her mouth slowly opened and hung slack. The chewing noises were gone. The silence of the night was so prominent, it seemed even the crickets were not bold enough to draw attention to themselves. Eric touched Jolene’s arm and as he did a scream erupted from her that was so chilling it would have fit right into any classic horror film Eric had ever seen. This was too much for the other three. Laura and Earl began screaming in the car as Eric, strengthened by fear, began dragging Jolene to the car. She was stiff and unwilling to comply with Eric’s prodding. He roughly shoved her into the front seat and slammed the door.
It was not until they were clear of the cemetery gates that Jolene ceased her screaming. It was not until Jolene stopped screaming that Earl and Laura did as well. Eric stepped on the gas. As he drove, he could hear Jolene muttering to herself. It almost sounded like she said, “Eating people”. He took everyone home and then went home himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about those noises or Jolene’s muttering. Those chewing noises. Eric’s parents and two brothers were out of town, so he had no one to talk to about it. He finally fell asleep in front of the television. His dreams were dark.

_____________________________

The next day was Sunday and it was a good bet that more than one of Eric’s passengers from the night before had attended church services that morning. He waited until around two o’clock to call Jolene. She answered the phone sounding groggy; like she had taken a sedative.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jolene? This is Eric.”
“I can’t talk right now, Eric.”
“I just wanted to ask you…” click! She had hung up on him. “Shit!” He had no choice but to hope Earl or Laura had seen something. He tried Earl first. The phone rang once and before Eric could even begin to speak, Earl was asking if he had seen the morning’s news.
“Just turn on the TV and watch the news. Call me after.” Click!
Every local news channel was broadcasting the same story. Helicopters provided aerial views of Grande Oaks Cemetery. Where green grass should have been atop aligned plots, there were big, jagged, gaping holes. The holes were dark and deep. Eric realized if he looked hard enough and the camera was angled just right, he could see glimpses of wood and white cloth in those holes. The reporter on the scene was babbling on about grave-robbers and searches. Eric wasn’t listening too intently. He picked up the phone again and dialed Earl’s number. Before the first ring finished, he answered and asked, “Ain’t that some shit?”
“What do you think we should do?” Eric asked him.
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘What should we do?’ NOTHING!”
“Shouldn’t we go to the police?”
“And tell them what? That we went out to the cemetery to get high before getting laid?”
“Earl, Jolene saw something. I think we should find out what she saw and go to the police. They don’t have to know about the weed, okay?”
“If you’ve got some kind of death wish, go for it. Just do me a favor and keep my ass out of it. Cool?”
“Yeah, no problem. You got her number?”
Eric got Jolene’s number and called her house. Her mother answered and said she wasn’t feeling well. He asked if he could stop by for a minute and that it was very important that he just ask her a couple of questions. Her mother wasn’t all that thrilled with the idea, but she eventually gave in. Eric got the address and ran to the car.
The house reminded him of the one he grew up in. It might have been the same house, save for the lime green paint job. Eric got out of the car and went to the door. He raised his hand to knock and the door swung open. Jolene stood before him with a glazed look in her eyes. The muumuu she was wearing had stripes running horizontally, making her look about fifty pounds heavier. Her hair was limp and hanging in her face. All at once Eric got a mental image of an overweight, greasy, Japanese ghost. She had seen better days. Eric said, “Hello”, and received no response. Jolene simply turned her back on him without closing the door and headed up the stairs. He took this as a sign for him to follow.
Her room looked as she did; unkempt and viral. He waited until she had positioned herself back on the bed before stepping forward. Eric asked, “Will you tell me what you saw last night at the cemetery?” Jolene’s response was not expected. She screamed. She screamed long and loud. Footsteps running up the stairs and into the room behind him made him turn. Jolene’s mother rushed to her side trying to calm her by smoothing her hair and making shushing sounds. Eric had begun backing away from the bed slowly and apologizing. Jolene stopped her screaming and her mother spoke to Eric without turning to face him. Her words were soft.
“She’s been doing this on and off since she got home last night.”
“Did she say anything?”
“No. She screams and stares at the wall. Most of her screams are about some kind of “monster” coming to get her. I’ve called our doctor and he’ll be here around three. She went out with some asshole kids last night and probably got talked into taking some fucking crazy drugs. She wasn’t raped. I checked. I worked as an RN for awhile some years ago.”
“Mrs. Kragg, Jolene was with me. I’m Eric Swanson.”

______________________________

Wilma Kragg did face him then. She didn’t look pleased and Eric took another slow step back. For fear he would run, Wilma moved fast. She shot from the bed, grabbed his arm, and pulled Eric out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“What the FUCK did you do to my daughter?” Her question was whispered, but intense.
“Nothing, I-I swear.” Eric’s back was pressed against the wall and still he wanted to shrink away from her. He spoke quickly. “We went to the cemetery just to hang out – Earl had a joint, but she didn’t want any. We heard some noises – like crunching noises - and Jolene froze. She stared off into the trees and-and wouldn’t talk. We all ran and I had to grab her and pull her to the car. Then we brought her home. I swear that was all.”
“This ain’t addin’ up, Sparky. You’ve got five seconds to tell me what happened to my little girl and three of ‘em are gone.”
“Look, I told you I don’t know. Earl called me earlier and told me to put on the news. I turned on the television and they were showing the cemetery and talking about some graves being dug up. Maybe she saw the grave robbers and it scared her.”
“They must’ve been some really fucked-up lookin’ grave robbers. Wow, I never realized how dumb I look.”
“Mrs. Kragg, I’m telling you I don’t know what Jolene saw. I came here to ask her.”
Wilma stepped back and simply stared at Eric. He could see she was considering what he had told her. After a moment, Wilma softened and her eyes began to water. A sob escaped her. “I wish she would speak. I’m sorry. I’m just so scared.” Eric opened his arms to her and she fell into him.
“We need to try. We need to ask her”, he whispered.

____________________________

Jolene sat ridged at the head of her bed. Her hands hung limply at her sides, her legs stretched out before her, and her eyes were focused intently on the opposite wall. She looked like a huge doll left on the bed of a child. Eric sat softly on the bed next to her and asked, “Jolene? Can you hear me?” She blinked. Wilma said, “Sweetie, it’s mommy. Please talk to me.”
Eric got the first response from Jolene in the form of a look. She met his eyes and appeared to be questioning him with her own. He pressed further.
“Jolene, I know you’re scared, but I really need to know what you saw last night. It’s okay now. You’re safe here in your room. Nothing can hurt you here.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was a whisper. Her jaw remained slack.
“You don’t know what, Jolene?”
“What it was.”
“Just tell me what you saw.”
“Something – eating.”
“Something eating what?”
“People.”
“You saw something eating bodies at the cemetery? How do you know it was eating the bodies?”
“It looked at me and I saw an arm hanging from its t-teeth.” Eric thought he might be losing her again.
“What did it look like?”
“Its mouth was so big.”
Eric stopped the questioning and asked Mrs. Kragg downstairs to talk. He wanted to apologize again for the night before.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry about this.” Eric was never more sincere.
“She’ll be fine. You got her talking and I thank you for that. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. This might not be of any help, but I have a cousin who runs a paranormal research group. You said it was on the news, so obviously something happened last night that coincides with Jolene’s story. I’ve never heard of anything like this before and I know that alone doesn’t make it paranormal – she's not herself, but take his number. You never know.” Eric thanked her and left. Ten minutes later he was back on his couch.
Next to the number Mrs. Kragg had given him was the name David. He picked up the phone and dialed the number. The line was busy. The call to David would have to wait. Eric grabbed the nearest video game and decided that now was as good a time as any to leave reality behind for awhile.
________________________________
Earl was never one to sit around. One reason was because he went through weed way too fast and was constantly on the prowl for more. Today was no different. Jimbo, his main supplier, had been dry for the past month and that just made things more difficult. After some checking, Earl got the name of a new guy (with competitive prices) who lived two counties over. After yelling “Road trip!” at the top of his lungs to no one in general, he proceeded to ask his mother for a small loan.
Karen Spencer kept a small amount of money aside for just such an occasion and Earl was a regular borrower. She had tried hundreds of times to convince her son to get a job – and attempts had been made – unfortunately Earl didn’t have much respect around town. He left around 3:30 in the afternoon and didn’t get home again until around 7 that evening. When Earl pulled up in his driveway he had been smiling for so long that his cheeks were numb.
What Earl saw when he got out of his car was the front walkway leading to his front door. What Earl didn’t see was a huge black shadow flying at him from out of the darkness, teeth closing around his upper torso severing his head at the neck and his spine at the waist, and his remaining body parts taking flight in the shadow’s wake over the roof of the car to land on the other side in a bloody heap. Earl’s once-white car was now crimson.
_____________________________________

Eric decided it was time to try David’s number again. He was surprised Earl hadn’t tried calling back, but knowing him, he was probably unconscious somewhere with a burning joint still hanging from his lips. Eric dialed the number and this time got a response.
“Hello?”
“Is this David?”
“Yeah, can I help you?”
“I hope so. Your cousin Wilma gave me your number. She said you investigate paranormal activity, like ghosts and stuff.” Eric felt odd even talking about it. It was never a subject that interested him. He wasn’t a “believer” by any means.
“Yes, ghosts and stuff. How can I help you?”
“Did you happen to see the news today about the grave robbers?”
“Oh, yeah. Pretty weird. It would have to have been quite a few people out there with shovels to dig up that many graves in one night. What about it?”
“I was there while it was happening. So was Jolene.”
“Jolene? Our Jolene?”
“Yes. It was four of us actually. It was a double-date.”
“Awesome. So, if I may ask, what the hell were you doing in a graveyard with Jolene?” Eric noticed that David’s voice rose in volume and an octave.
“We were just hanging out. I swear. We heard crunching and Jolene saw something that scared her. She said it wasn’t human. She didn’t say much else, but she did say it wasn’t human and it was eating the corpses out there.”
“What was it, smack, crack, pot, ecstasy, shrooms…?”
“Hey! There were no drugs involved. She’s damn near catatonic right now because it scared her that badly. Now, I called to see if you knew what this might be - not to catch a bunch of shit.” It was Eric’s turn to get angry.
“Look, the only story I ever heard involving the eating of corpses is an old Cherokee myth. Other than that, you got me.”
“What is it?”
“What is what?”
“What’s the myth!?”
“You can’t be serious…”
“Oh, I’m pretty serious. Trust me.”
“Suit yourself. The myth talks about how the Cherokee elders would call up a spirit to devour the bodies of the dead to allow the soul to pass on and become one with the earth. The spirit was supposed to be comprised of several different animals. It had the head of a crocodile, the body of a bear, etc. Nobody really knows exactly what the thing was supposed to have looked like, but you get the idea. Once the body was eaten, the spirit was to return to the underworld. Have I helped?”
“I doubt it.” Eric hung up. “Prick.”
Eric realized there were similarities between David’s story and the occurrence of the night before. The problem was that even in light of what Jolene had said, it all sounded way too crazy to be real. Eric half expected to hear Rod Serling’s voice come out of the walls around him: Imagine if you will…

____________________________________


Jolene was up and standing in her bedroom window. Her hands gripped the curtains to either side of her. The night was clear and she stared out at the stars and the waning moon. Wilma, emotionally drained, was asleep in her room across the hall. Jolene was calm now and humming softly as she enjoyed the peacefulness of the night beyond her window. Things were becoming clear for her. It was her imagination. Her mind had played a trick on her. The smoke from the marijuana cigarette had clouded her mind. She laughed softly to herself until the window shattered and she was gone. For a brief moment, the white of her curtains could be seen flapping in the wind high above the ground; then, they too, were gone.

__________________________________

The next morning, Eric was at the library ten minutes before it opened. Within the following hour, he found a complete draft of the Cherokee myth.
“…the name of the creature was Pada. The creature or spirit could be called up only during a waxing moon and only by an elder of the tribe. During every ceremony to raise him, Pada was given the order to return to the earth once he had consumed the remains of the deceased individual.”

The only new fact in the story was the spirit’s name: Pada. Eric started wondering if maybe the legend were true and if some old Cherokee tribe member had really called this spirit into our world to eat the remains of a loved one. Was he related to everyone in the cemetery? Not likely. As crazy as the idea was, Eric decided to check out the current obituaries. After another hour, he had three names written down on a small note pad. Two of the names sounded Native American and one name was under the picture of a woman with high cheekbones and long braided black hair. The picture was obviously older, but the woman’s origins were obvious.
Eric returned home and sat trying to decide how to broach the subject of an ancient Cherokee myth about a corpse-eating spirit with someone who has recently lost a relative. His thoughts were broken when the phone rang. Eric answered and could hear only heavy breathing. He started to hang up when the breathing turned into sobs. It was Laura. She spoke between quick breaths.
“Eric, I’ve been calling all morning! Where’ve you been? Earl’s dead and Jolene’s missing!”
“What? What are you talking about? I just talked to them both yesterday…”
“Eric, shut up and listen.” Laura’s panic was palpable and she spoke fast. “Last night Jolene’s mom heard a crash from somewhere in the house. She ran across the hall to Jolene’s room and saw the glass broken out of her window and couldn’t find her anywhere. She was just gone. At first she thought Jolene had jumped from her window, but there was no sign of her. Earl’s mom was leaving for work this morning and saw – saw…”
“Saw what?”
“Earl’s body was in p-pieces…blood…”
“Oh, God.” Eric stopped listening. The phone moved slowly down his face as his arm lost the strength to hold it. The sound of Laura’s voice calling for him was lost. He could hear nothing as his thoughts consumed him.
________________________________

Eric came to his senses not long after and made up his mind to look for the people listed in the articles he had found. All three had been buried at Grande Oaks Cemetery within the past month and all three had grieving family members. He grabbed the phonebook and started his search. It wasn’t long before he found the first name on the list. After a moment of practicing and formulating his words, he felt he was ready to call. He dialed the number quickly, but with each ring, his nervousness grew.
“Hello?” It was the voice of a young woman.
“Hello, Mrs. Howling Wolf?”
“No.” She laughed. “Howling Wolf was my grandfather’s Cherokee name. His legal name was Harris. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry. I read both names in the obituary and didn’t know which to use. You might find this sort of strange, but do you know anything about an old myth regarding a spirit called Pada?” What the hell, he thought, what could she do? Hang up?
“Excuse me, what is this about?”
“I’m doing a research paper…” Bingo! There was a loud click on the line. He couldn’t blame her. That did sound kinda lame. One down, two to go. The next name on the list was Ashford. Eric found the listing for a relative named in the obituary column. He wasn’t sure how the person was related to the deceased because no distinction was given. He dialed the number and felt the uneasiness return. After the last call, he was even more nervous this time. A man answered.
“What’s up?” He sounded impatient and not pleased with the interruption.
“Yes, I’m sorry for the inconvenience of this call…”
“What do you want?” The man sounded even more agitated. It was time to just say it.
“I think a mythical Cherokee spirit is running around eating dead bodies. Sound familiar? Ever heard of something called, Pada? Do I gat a “Bob, tell him what he’s won”, or am I just some fruit-loop, goof-nut with a dead best friend and a missing acquaintance who happened to see a creature chewing up corpses in Grande Oaks Cemetery two nights ago?”
Silence. Then:
“Where can I meet you?”

________________________________________

Ten minutes later, Eric’s doorbell rang. Laura was standing on the porch step looking puffy and haggard. Eric sat her down in the dining room and made coffee for them both. He asked her if she were feeling any better.
“Yeah.” She spoke softly and slowly. “I think I’m in shock or something. For some reason I can’t feel anything right now. I don’t think it’s sunk in completely. There’s still part of me that refuses to believe it really happened.”
“I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise you’ll let me finish. I’m over my quota for being cut-off today. It’s about what I think happened to Earl and Jolene.”
“Okay.”
After Eric finished his story, Laura looked even more concerned. Eric thought he had frightened her with the prospect of some monster running loose and eating people. He was wrong.
“Eric, I know all this is hard to take, I mean, Earl was my boyfriend, but please think about what you’re saying.” She was worried about him and his mental stability.
“I’m not crazy. I know how it sounds, but…” The doorbell rang once again. This time it was the man he had spoken with on the phone earlier. He was obviously Native American. He was dressed as anyone else in a button down shirt and jeans, yet his hair, long and black, hung past his shoulders and turquoise-beaded moccasins covered his feet. His almond skin and high cheekbones left no room for doubt.
“I’m Eric. Please come in.” The man nodded and stepped through the open doorway. Eric led the man into the kitchen and offered him a drink. The man declined and Eric introduced him to Laura.
“This is Running Bear.”
“It’s very nice to meet you.” Laura was still concerned about her friend’s mental health and meeting Running Bear wasn’t helping the situation. She hadn’t realized just how traumatized Eric must be. Running Bear declined the offer of a drink, sat next to Laura, and began to speak.
“There are two obituaries. One was for my grandmother and the other was for my niece.” To Eric he said, “You may have seen the photograph of my grandmother in the paper. Her listing was just beneath my niece’s.” Eric remembered the third listing and said he had seen it. “They were together in our car. Grandmother was taking Li-Li to the park when they were hit by a drunk driver. They were both killed instantly.”
Eric could see the man’s eyes begin to moisten. He continued.
“My grandfather was so distraught over the whole thing that he became infuriated with the world as it has become. The family has kept to as many of the old ways as humanly possible because he never forgave who he still calls the “white man” for what has been done to our people. I understand someone wanting to hold to tradition, but there was a time when he would beat us for even talking to a white person. He was the one who called up the spirit of Pada. I told him of the news broadcast and he said he was glad. He wanted this to happen. He said he knew Pada would be hungry after all these years.”
“My guess is that there’s some connection to what has happened to our friends in all of this and I’d like to hear your answer as to how a spirit called upon to eat dead bodies has chosen to attack live ones. If there is no connection, then there’s one hell of a coincidence that needs explaining.” Eric needed more pieces for the puzzle to make a clear picture. His sanity was already in question by his acceptance to even the idea of Pada being real.
“Eric,” Running Bear continued, “I understand you’re upset about your friends and I can tell you that Pada does have a direct connection to what’s happened to them if you were all there the night he arrived. In fact, it’s a good chance that you and Laura are in danger as well.”
Eric and Laura answered together: “What?!”
“When Pada is called upon, there is a rule that no one can witness his coming.”
“The only person to actually see him was Jolene”, Eric protested.
“That doesn’t matter. You were there.”
“How do we stop it?” Laura asked.
“There are only two ways to stop him. My grandfather refuses to help at all, so that avenue is out.”
“The other?”
“The person responsible for calling Pada must die.”
“So what you’re saying,” Eric started, “is that Laura and I are screwed.”
“Pretty much.” Running Bear stood.
“What if we tried talking to your grandfather? What if we explained how much we want to live? He can’t be that heartless. We could die!” Eric was astonished at the conviction of the grandson that the grandfather would never change his mind even in light of he and Laura’s peril.
“I’ll take you to him right now if you want.”
“Yes – fine. Laura, let’s go.” Laura rose from her chair. To Running Bear, he said, “Lead the way.”

__________________________________

Running Bear’s grandfather was sitting on the front step of a small, wooden house situated on a large piece of open land just outside town. Eric recognized it as a house he’d passed many times before, but had never given a second thought to. The old man was paring an apple or some other kind of fruit and never once raised his head to see who was approaching.

All three climbed from Running Bear’s truck and walked over to where the old man sat. Only after the old man raised his head did Eric realize he was blind. The milky-white of his eyes startled him for a moment. Laura was the first to speak.
“Sir? My name is Laura Sherman and I don’t want to die.” Running Bear and Eric looked at one another and the old man smiled.
“This is my grandfather, Soaring Eagle”, Running Bear offered.
“I know why you have come. Pada has tasted blood and thirsts for more. I sense his mark on you. The white man knows nothing of what is beyond and feels safe in his ignorance. Now he will know the world around him.” Soaring Eagle seemed fine with the prospect of more death and desecrated graves. Eric expected him to start whistling a happy tune.
“Mr. Soaring Eagle, your grandson has explained how you feel about what is happening. We understand that you don’t care whether we live or die. What we don’t understand is how you can justify your responsibility in the deaths of other human beings”, Eric responded.
“We have asked this of many white men for many years. Maybe you will answer it.”
The sun was sinking beyond the horizon much too quickly, Eric thought. Night was coming on fast and he knew something had to be done before someone else died. In the line of trees at the edge of Soaring Eagle’s property, they all turned their heads at the sound of rustling.
“Can we please talk inside?” Laura asked. Soaring Eagle smiled again.
“It won’t matter.”
Running Bear convinced his grandfather to move the conversation indoors. Inside the house, Eric realized it looked like he might have imagined it. Feathers, dream-catchers, leather pouches, and beaded amulets hung from the walls. There was no electricity here. The one window in the room was shut tight with the curtains drawn. Oil lamps lit the main room in an eerie glow. It smelled of sweat and oddly enough, macaroni and cheese. Now inside, Eric was ready to try again.
“This is ridiculous. It’s like one big childish game. Tit-for-tat never got anyone anywhere. It never ends until an adult steps in and stops it. You seem wise beyond your years until someone gets close enough to you to know better. You’re nothing but a big child.” At this, Running Bear did not look pleased. He looked at Eric with a warning in his eyes. Laura had had enough. She put her face within inches of Soaring Eagle’s.
“Listen old man, you might think you’re hot shit around here just because you can make a ghost eat people! Well, I’m not going down alone. If I die, you die!” With a quickness Eric had never witnessed from Laura before, she spun around behind Soaring Eagle’s chair and with one hand grabbed his collar to hold him down and with the other lifted the chair from behind just enough to pivot him slightly to the right. He was now facing the only window in the room.
Eric saw Running Bear start to react and threw himself at the man, knocking him to the floor. He grabbed a knife from a holster hanging on the wall next to him and brandished it on Running Bear. Just then, the window shattered inward, spraying all four with tiny shards of broken glass. She must have sensed it coming, Eric thought. Following the shattered glass was a tremendous wind that extinguished the lamps in the room. After the last shard of glass settled on the wooden floor, the only sound was a heavy breathing coming from one corner of the room very near the hole where the window used to be.
Straining their eyes, Laura, Eric, and Running Bear could make out only a darker spot in the already-dark room. As they watched, the spot seemed to grow larger, as if a bear were standing slowly on its hind legs. It grew until the window was blocked out entirely. Again there was only one darkness. Soaring Eagle began to laugh.
“He will not harm the one who calls him”, he said through chuckles.
“Yeah, but will he protect you?” Laura asked. She put the old man in a headlock and began choking him. Eric was rooted to the spot in awe of Laura. Who is this person, he thought. He heard Running Bear try to stand and again shoved the knife in his direction. Though he was nearly blind in the increasing darkness, Eric could still make out Running Bear’s dimming outline.
“I will kill you to save my own life”, he said. “Move again and find out.”
As Soaring Eagle began gasping for air, Running Bear leapt to his feet and lunged at Laura from behind. Eric wasn’t fast enough to stop him from dragging her and Soaring Eagle both to the floor. A loud snap rang out, like teeth snapping shut. The sound was followed by a loud thud and the tinkle of metal against wood. Warm liquid splashed over Laura’s body and she screamed. She tasted copper. Laura was suddenly yanked to her feet and held against who she knew was Running Bear. He positioned her between himself and Pada.
“Grandfather! You must stop him! I was with you whe…” Running Bear never got to finish his sentence. In one fluid motion, Running Bear was lifted into the air by his ankles and slammed into the floor, ceiling, and walls like a rag doll in the hands of a huge, evil child. His body was pulled into the dark void that was Pada and a loud crunch followed. His lifeless body was tossed back at Laura knocking her to floor once more and she began sobbing and running her hands over the wet floorboards in search of the dropped knife. She knew she had only one chance. Her fingers touched the wooden handle of the knife and she gripped it as well as she could with her now blood-covered hand.
Soaring Eagle, still lying where he fell, began chanting. Laura knew this couldn’t be good. Something grabbed her entire right shoulder. She felt fur against her cheek and claws rip into her flesh. She screamed and threw the knife in Soaring Eagle’s direction. Laura heard his scream just before her lower half was bitten in two. Her legs twitched against the floor as her head and chest were thrown against a wall hard enough to splinter the wood.

___________________________________

Soaring Eagle brought his hands to his face and felt the handle of the knife jutting from his left eye. Instinctively, he attempted to pull the knife free. His eyeball came free with the serrated knife blade. Blood began flowing freely from the open wound. He heard a last heavy breath from Pada before sensing the creature’s departure. Soaring Eagle had no phone because it was the white man’s creation. His neighbors were far. Death would be his only savior.

The Child

Uni was twelve when his family moved into the new house in Wisconsin. He was thoroughly unhappy with the changes to his school and surroundings. His old schoolmates had gotten past making fun of his name and now he’d have to go through that all over again. His name was pronounced oony, but most of the kids liked to call him puny. Almost immediately Uni realized he may not have to worry about that anymore.

His mother sent him down to the corner to pick up some things from the grocer the day after the move. That was where Uni met Sam. Sam was the same age as Uni, but slightly smaller in frame. They both found it funny that they were dressed similarly. Both boys were wearing red shirts, jeans, and white sneakers. After that, they became good friends. Sam began introducing Uni to the other kids in the neighborhood and even made him an honorary team member of the Grant Street Jo-Jo Lovers.

Jo-Jo was a girl who lived two streets over that most of the baseball team had a crush on. Their team was named by the opposing team, the Bay Court Jo-Jo Haters. Jo-Jo wasn’t enthused by all this, but she was a little flattered to be mentioned at all. The Lovers and the Haters usually had a game on Holloway Lane every Saturday afternoon. The reason for this was because Holloway Lane had fewer houses on it, which meant fewer chances to end up spending allowances on broken windows and dent repairs.

The day of his first official game, Sam laid down the ground rules.
“Never make any of the Haters mad because they’re bigger than us. If Jo-Jo comes to watch, never make eye-contact with her because that makes everybody jealous. This one is the most important one of all; never go near number 5211.” Then Sam pointed at the ugliest house Uni had ever seen. It reminded him of the house from The Addams Family. A chill went up Uni’s spine as he wondered why anyone would want to go near it. The house sat alone on a very large, unkempt piece of property.
“The whole world knows about that house”, Sam continued. “Right when it starts to get dark you can see a girl in the upstairs window. The thing is no one lives there. They say she died there a long time ago. She was supposed to be really pretty or something. People who’ve seen her say that she has pig-tails and she’s got a pink dress. I don’t care, though, because nobody is as pretty as Jo-Jo. Plus, ghosts can’t be pretty, can they?”
“You don’t have to worry about that rule”, Uni said. Just then, the most beautiful girl Uni had ever seen came around the corner. Her hair was long and dark, and her lips were as red as blood. Her skin was almond and her dress was bright blue, matching her eyes perfectly. “Who is that?”
“Oh, that’s Jo-Jo. Remember what I said”, Sam urged. Uni quickly looked away, but not without massive effort. He realized this wasn’t going to be easy. It was easier once the game got started, but Uni kept finding his focus returning to Jo-Jo. That was when he realized she was looking at him! Uni went through two quick changes: At first, he got real nervous; then he got real good at baseball. Nothing got past Uni. He was like lightening. Thanks to him, the Lovers finally got a chance at bat. Since he was the new guy, Uni was first up.

His team was cheering him on as he snuck a peek over at Jo-Jo who was standing alone on the sidewalk. She was still watching him and he blushed harder than ever before. The pitch was thrown and Uni swung with everything he had. Just as the bat cracked into the ball, Uni closed his eyes and envisioned that ball sailing through the clouds. The sound of glass shattering made Uni open his eyes. The ball had landed inside number 5211.

Unfortunately for Uni, the ball had been supplied by the biggest boy on the other team. It didn’t come as a shock when the kid demanded Uni get his ball back. Trying to remain nonchalant, Uni said, “I’ll just have my father buy you a new one.”
“The game isn’t over. We can’t stop the game now. We have six more innings”, the big kid replied. This statement was followed by a chorus of “Yeahs” and “Go-get-its”. Uni noticed Jo-Jo was biting her lip and looking at the house. That was the clincher. The ball had gone through the living room window, so all he had to do was open the front door and reach in for the ball. He would come back to the street and Jo-Jo would run over and plant a gigantic kiss right on his lips. Plus, an added bonus would be that everyone would see he wasn’t afraid and would want to be his friend. It was a win-win situation! Still…

Uni started up the walk to the front door. He felt disconnected, like he wasn’t inside his body. Everything was moving slower. The sounds of the other kids making bets on his bravery faded into silence. Was he walking normally? It didn’t feel like it. Uni imagined he was walking through waist-high water. He could actually feel his heart beating – no, he could hear his heart beating. Looking up at the house, Uni felt as if the house was looking back. The house is breathing, he thought, just before realizing it was his own slow breaths he was hearing. It seemed days had gone by when he finally reached the doorstep of number 5211.

As if Uni’s arm were submerged in molasses, he slowly reached up to grasp the old doorknob. As his fingers encircled the cold, brass knob, a short prayer raced through his mind begging for the door to be locked. The knob turned easily in Uni’s hand, almost as if the house wanted him inside. The “clack” of the bolt sliding back from the door jam was deafening to him. Uni’s heart sank. There was no turning back. He remembered Jo-Jo was watching him and that one thought gave him the strength to push open the door. It swung inward revealing empty walls and floors made from rotting wood and spider-webs.

Uni looked around the door and spotted the baseball lying right near the front window. He calculated that it would take approximately three large steps to get to the ball and three more steps to get back to the open doorway. He decided to count the steps out loud as he took them just for comfort purposes. No sweat. Easy as pie. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. He decided, he would count to three and then go.
“Ready…one, two, THREE!” Uni cried, and the race was on. First giant step – “One!” Second giant step - “Two!” Third giant step - … The door slammed with such force that the wood splintered and the already-broken window cracked even further. The only sound to break through the stunned silence of the neighborhood children was the scream that came from Jo-Jo.


After a search was begun that continues to this day, Uni is still missing. The house at 5211 Holloway Lane was found to be completely empty. Only the children know what really happened to him. Every now and then, it is said, a pretty little girl in a pink dress and pig-tails is seen skipping along the lane smiling and singing nursery rhymes. If approached, she will never acknowledge another’s presence and she is always seen last in front of number 5211.

The Haters and the Lovers disbanded those thirteen years ago and there are no baseball games played there now. The new children of that neighborhood tell their own tales of the old abandoned house on Holloway Lane. The most common story is that on some nights when the moon is high and the air is clear, you can see a little boy looking from the top-most window of number 5211, and if you look very closely, you might be able to catch a glimpse of a baseball gripped tightly in his little hand.

The Oldest Resident

Tom Garrett was not a happy man. Five minutes after getting to the office, his boss decides to send him right back out again to see some eight-hundred-year-old fossil. It’s that time of year again and Tom’s “it”. Usually this job is given to some new guy who doesn’t know any better. The town’s oldest resident gets his or her own column in the Chronicle every year. This time it’s Theodora Pleasant who’s probably going to die next. The report says she’s one-hundred and two. Tom wondered if maybe he should stop and pick up a feather-duster on the way.

Traffic did nothing to improve Tom’s mood. Even in a small, backwoods town like Hampstead Falls traffic could be a real turd sandwich. Sure, the scenery was beautiful, but the sidewalks were too small and no one else ever seemed to have a bad day. Even without teeth they’d smile big as you please. It seemed Rick Snead only smiled when he was sending Tom out on these “little” errands. Of course, there aren’t many “big” stories out in the land of chewing tobacco and favorite pigs.

Theodora’s house was small, but quaint. It was encircled by the standard white-picket fence and rose bushes. Tom pulled up and parked his ’79 Ford Fairmont right up next to the mail box. As he collected his pad, pens, and hat, he noticed Theodora was sitting on her porch rocking slowly in an old wooden rocker. She didn’t seem to notice him, so he took advantage of the moment to take in the sight. She had hair so black he thought, at first, it was a hat. Looking closer, he noticed the hairline was too distinct. A wig, he thought, doesn’t she own a mirror? Looks like a dead animal perched up there.

Tom stifled a giggle and got out of the car. As he passed through the hinged gate, Tom noticed how pale she was. She was wearing a house dress with big, puffy shoulders to match the big, puffy, toeless house-slippers on her taloned feet. It looked to Tom like the last time she cut her toenails was in preparation for her senior prom. Does she hang from branches? No, she can’t. Her hair would fall off.

As he climbed the steps to the porch, Tom realized the smile from his last personal joke was coming in handy. Immediately, he relaxed and was very glad he had dressed casually today. It was hot and if this interview was going to be outdoors, his choice of khakis and Polo shirt would pay off. He extended one hand to Theodora and removed his hat with the other, revealing a soon-to-be bald spot.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Pleasant”, Tom greeted her.

“Mrs.”, was Theodora’s only response.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were married. There’s no note here…”

“Wouldn’t be, would there?”

Her breath smelled of raw onion, yet Tom held his smile like a trooper. Theodora had not once looked Tom in the eye. He thought maybe she was just shy or hardened by a tough life. That didn’t excuse it by any means. It was still rude.

“Mrs. Pleasant”, Tom began. “I just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Don’t recall anyone askin’ if I minded when they’d told me ‘bout you comin’ over here.”

She isn’t all that “Pleasant” after all. If she happened to fall off the porch they’d never suspect me. Tom knew how to keep himself amused. He had to keep smiling somehow.

“Mrs. Pleasant…”

“How many times you gonna say my name?”

“I’ll just ask the questions and be on my way, if that’s alright.” Tom was ready to go by this time and was close to scrapping the whole article. Snead could come do this himself. He bit his lip and began the questioning.

“How do you spend your days?” he asked.

“Friday night I got bingo. I walk over to the Moose Lodge, ‘bout a mile away”, she replied matter-of-factly.

“You walk a mile once a week?” No wonder you’re not dead yet.

“Yessiree. Got lucky last week.”

“You said, ‘misses’ earlier, in regards to your name. How long were you married?” Tom asked.

“Still ta this day!”

“Well, what year did you marry?”

“Got hitched in 1949.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Tom started.

“It’s a bit late fer that!” Theodora was beginning to get irritated. She spilled some tea during that last outburst. Another stain on the slippers would make little difference.

“Did you divorce and keep his name or did he pass away?”

“Billy ain’t dead!”


Tom turned to the sound of scratching coming from inside the house.

“You have pets?”

Theodora looked puzzled for a moment and then stammered a reply.

“Oh, that. I-I’m dog sittin’ for a friend’s gone outta town.”

She got to her feet slowly and opened the screen door. Tom glanced briefly into the house through the screen and went back to his pad. He finished the sentence he was writing and once again looked into the house. He was never invited to sit, so he was able to pivot slightly and see through the parlor and into the kitchen. The scratching sound grew more intense. He watched as Theodora pulled something from the refrigerator and turned to an old-looking, unpainted door at the back of the kitchen. Is that a steak? That’s the biggest steak I’ve ever seen. It can’t be a steak. It just looks like a steak. No, that’s a steak.

It was a steak. Tom watched as Theodora turned the knobs on two deadbolts in the process of unlocking the old door. She reached for a third, but stopped midway. She knocked twice before again reaching for the third lock and Tom heard the latch “pop”. Theodora pulled the door open only slightly; just enough to toss in the steak and slam the door closed again. The quickness with which she threw the bolts back into place belied her old age. Theodora shot a look at Tom, who immediately looked back down at his pad. He then looked around at the porch as if suddenly, the exterior of the house would make an interesting addition to the article. He jotted another note and wandered out of view as if something off to the right had caught his eye.

Theodora returned a moment later with a glass of iced tea. She offered Tom nothing and reclaimed the old rocker. He felt he had seen enough, so Tom explained he had work to do at the office and left the Pleasant home. Driving slower than usual because he was lost in thought, Tom was nearly run off the road by a car full of teenagers. He couldn’t get the image of Theodora tossing a raw steak into a room that supposedly held a dog. What kind of dog eats huge, raw steaks? Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t a dog at all. Maybe it’s some dangerous, wild animal that’s illegal to own in most states.

Tom arrived back at his desk and dutifully began work on his column for the town’s oldest, and strangest, resident. He had to put thoughts of the mysterious room out of his head or he’d never get any work done. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. In bed that night, Tom found himself unable to sleep. He lay there listening to sound of rain falling against his window. His apartment building was one of the newer structures in town, but with walls of papier-mâché, he was lucky that the rain was the only sound he must contend with. Yet, it wasn’t the rain keeping sleep away. It was her.

The next morning came much too quickly and sitting at his second-hand, metal-lined dining table for four, Tom remembered Theodora mentioning Friday night bingo. He sipped his coffee, took a drag off his cigarette, and decided the old bat was probably senile. Today just happened to be Thursday, and the temptation was much too great. He thought, how difficult could it be to get into that old dump, anyway? I’d bet anything I could get in and out and she’d never even know it. As the smoke curled up from his cigarette, he made his final decision.

Since Tom didn’t know the exact moment Theodora left her home for the long walk to bingo, he played it safe and parked just down the street from her picket fence at around four o’clock, Friday afternoon. He would watch and wait. As the moment neared, Tom became more and more anxious to finally solve the mystery of what was behind the old door in Theodora’s kitchen. Lovely, he thought, as it started to rain. She probably won’t even go now. Damn.

Raindrops fell on the Fairmont’s windshield sporadically at first, then with a more insistent drumming. Tom started the car at around six-thirty, completely convinced he was out of luck. The first bars of Rhiannon came through the car speakers as he reached for the gear shift. The car’s headlights broke through the hazy twilight and rain revealing a yellowish glow from Theodora’s porch. Tom threw on the windshield-wipers as excitement rose in his chest. Yes! That’s one tough broad! Go, baby, go! Theodora was indeed on her way to bingo.

The sky continued to darken as he watched Theodora climb down the porch steps and head off down the lane away from him. She moved slowly, but with purpose. Tom waited until she had disappeared around the far corner before climbing from the car. In his excitement, he forgot to turn off the engine. As Stevie Nicks sang, “All your life you’ve never seen a woman taken by the sky…” Tom walked slowly toward the house glancing back and forth to make sure he was not being watched. Of course, he couldn’t know for sure, but his nerves demanded the attempt.


Tom had not expected the rain, so he was much under-dressed in sneakers and shorts. He did remember his hat, which would come in handy if he was spotted. He moved onto the sidewalk and hugged himself against the chill and rain. Reaching Theodora’s gate, he trotted up the front walk to the porch. The front door was locked. Tom was surprised. She’s not as gone as I thought.

The front window was not locked and the question of senility was back in play. Tom pushed the old wooden window-frame up just high enough to squeeze himself through. His sneakers were wet, but by the time she returned he would be long gone. Theodora had left no lights burning in the house, but Tom was ready. He pulled out his pen light and pressed the clip on one side. A small, but effective beam appeared and guided him through the parlor and into the kitchen. His sneakers squeaked with each footstep as he crossed the linoleum floor. Now Tom stood before the very thing that has had the power to plague him with anxiety and fully consume his thoughts over such a surprisingly short period of time: the door.

Tom stood staring at it. A tickle of nervousness ran up his spine. There was no logical explanation for his obscene curiosity. What difference did it make? Why had this old, ugly door affected him so terribly? Screw it. He turned the first bolt. The pen light almost fell from his hand as a scratching sound began to come through the door. Tom turned the second bolt. The scratching increased. He almost threw the last bolt when he remembered the two knocks Theodora had given before fully unlocking the door. He knocked twice and the scratching ceased. Smart dog. Tom turned the last bolt.

Tom did not immediately open the door. He paused to see if this dog would open it without his help. The door remained closed until Tom himself opened it. Not so smart after all, huh? The pen light revealed a naked bulb hanging over a staircase leading down. Actually, it was a staircase leading down into darkness. Not just the simple darkness you get when you turn out a light in your home, but a black, inky, you’re-going-to-die-a-horrible-death darkness found only in bad horror films.

Tom thanked God there was a light hanging before him. He pulled the chain and was relieved that the bulb was not dead. Unfortunately, his relief only lasted a split second before the bulb exploded, sending shards of glass flying all around him. Tom’s immediate reaction was to leave an even larger mess for Theodora to tend to upon her arrival home. His second was to squeeze his eyes shut tightly to avoid the shattering glass.

The brightness of the explosion had left Tom’s retinas with the image of the bulb burned into them. And something else. He kept his eyes closed for a moment to try and get a better picture of what was there. The bulb was clearly outlined, but to the right of that was something very long and thick. It looked gray and wet. It glistened in the split second before the bulb shattered. What the hell was that? Tom was no longer a believer in the “pet-sitting” story. He began blinking furiously to clear his sight. The pen light helped.

“Hello?” Tom called down, but no answer was given. The small light in his hand refused to cut through the darkness at the base of the stairs. He decided to get a knife from the kitchen behind him before taking another step. It took only a moment to find a large, carving knife.

As Tom approached the top of the staircase once again, an image of a frog shooting out its tongue to catch a fly came to mind. He thought, No, not a frog. Something big enough to have an appendage like that couldn’t be a frog. With the carving knife in one hand and the pen light in the other, Tom slowly crept down the stairs. He hugged the wall, trying desperately to see further into the gloom. Splinters from the wood paneling were digging into his back and yet he felt nothing. The fear of what lay at the end of this narrow, steep descent was all he could think about.

At the bottom, Tom stood motionless looking for all the world like some deranged wax figure in a museum of historical lunatics. A sudden, sharp pain wrenched through his throat as he was slammed back against the wall. His feet were no longer touching the floor and he realized he could no longer draw a breath of air seconds before realizing he was being suspended by his neck. Tom reached up to grasp whatever it was holding him and felt exactly what he thought the strange “appendage” he saw earlier must have felt like to the touch. Slimy, wet, coldness clutched his throat.

The grip loosened only slightly, but it was just enough for Tom to take in a breath. The knife and pen light had fallen from Tom’s grasp at the moment he was attacked, so he could not see what was now blowing hot, rancid air into his face. The air was rhythmic and he knew it was the breath of the cellar occupant. A deep, raspy voice began to speak.

“Who are you?” asked the voice.

“T-Tom G-Garrett. Who are y-you?”

The reply came in a throaty whisper: “Billeeeee.”

Tom remembered that Theodora had said her husband’s name was Billy, but had never answered his query about where Billy was.

“The old witch found that my love was for anotherrr. This is my fate; darkness and despairrr. She has a powerrr. You have entered without invitation. Theodora knows not forgivenesss. If she returns, your fate will be as mine”, it breathed. Whatever this thing was, Tom felt that its words had softened. Abruptly, it released him.

“Go”, it said.

Tom had no intention of staying. He began to “feel” his way back up the steps when another voice came from above.

“I see you’ve met Billy.” Three times, the sound of a bolt being turned echoed in Tom’s ears.



Richard Snead sat behind his large, oak desk. It was getting close to ten o’clock

and he was ready to go home. He hadn’t heard from Tom for two days, but that wasn’t unusual. Tom had a bad habit of disappearing every now and then, but he made up for it with good leads. Richard lifted his toupee and wiped the sweat off his bald spot. He made sure his cigar was out before heaving his two-hundred and sixty-six pounds up onto his feet. He checked for his keys in his left jacket pocket and reached for the string on the desk lamp he had gotten as Christmas gift three years ago. He stopped in mid-reach when his eye caught a large, cardboard box sitting in the far corner of his office. Where did that come from, he thought. He reasoned it had probably come around lunch time and he was never in the office at lunch time.

Richard walked over to the box and found an address label. It was indeed addressed to him, yet no return address was listed. He couldn’t remember ordering anything, but he wasn’t going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. The box was the size of a washing machine so whatever it was, he reasoned, it had to be good. Richard pulled back the top flap closest to him.

Three things will remain etched in Richard’s mind for rest of his life: The smell of rotted meat, the image of gray, slimy flesh, and his desk lamp exploding into a thousand pieces of glass and metal.