Four Corners Dark: Horror Stories (6 page)

Two years ago, Terry had resigned his position as a math teacher and football coach for Springside High School. Daniel Carver had been one of his student players. On a hot spring day, Daniel succumbed to the heat and collapsed into a coma. Three days later, he was dead and Terry was in the middle of a firestorm of accusations. After three months of hell, Terry was cleared of any negligence and allowed to return to normal life. Only life was no longer normal for Terry at Springside. It was anything but normal. He muddled on for a while trying to put the tragedy behind him, when he received the call about his uncle’s death. The news was sad, but it did offer an opportunity, he and Abby could start over again in a new place far from Springside.

After regaining his composure, Terry drove on to Silverton and arrived at the sheriff’s station. He opened the glass door of the station and walked in.

Rita Haeckel, a plump redhead, sat behind a steel desk. “Can I help you?” She barely looked up from the fingernail painting that occupied her attention.

“Yes, I need to see the sheriff,” Terry answered.

“Sorry, Sheriff Turner went out for coffee at Wyatt’s. Round the corner past Dobbins Hardware. Better step on it mister,” Rita said. “Sheriff goes straight out on his rounds after Wyatt’s. Could be gone for a while after that.”

“Thanks,” Terry said leaving the station.

Terry walked to Wyatt’s, then entered the old building and found a heavy-set policeman at the lunch counter eating pie and drinking a cup of coffee.

“Sheriff Turner?” Terry inquired.

“Yes sir, what can I do for you?”

“My name is Terry James. I recently moved into my uncle’s lodge.”

“I know who you are Mister James. I saw you at the funeral, sorry about your uncle,” Turner said. “Mabel Lee can you grab this young fella a cup of coffee on me?”

“Morning,” she said smiling at Terry.

“Good morning,” Terry replied. “Thanks Sheriff,” Terry said sitting next to him.

Mabel Lee was a fixture in the place. Pink flour-covered apron and bottle-blonde hair. She handed Terry a steaming cup of coffee and went back to work.

“Sheriff Turner, we had a break-in last night,” Terry said. “I need to file a police report.”

Terry described the events of the prior evening, leaving out some of the stranger details.

“Okay,” Turner said. “I’ll get one of my deputies out to your place this afternoon. Let them look around and see if we can get to the bottom of this situation. Mr. James, what made you all want to move out to that old place? Young couple like you might be more at home in South Ridge.”

“Well,” Terry answered, “my uncle left me the place, my wife and I thought we might try to turn the place into a B&B.”

“Mr. James, there is a lot you need to learn about this area and you are going to find it mighty hard to get any folks to spend a night in the James lodge,” Sheriff Turner said.

The sheriff excused himself and left the restaurant.

CHAPTER EIGHT

D
uring the drive home Terry couldn’t help but replay the conversation with the sheriff in his mind. Converting the lodge into a B&B seemed to be a solid idea. There were no homes or businesses of any kind outside of downtown Silverton. In fact, they had not seen an inn or hotel anywhere. Maybe the sheriff was being protective of the town? It would make for some good conversation when his cousin Brenda and friend Donald arrived for the weekend. Brenda and Terry spent a great deal of time together as children. She had been a sickly child, frequently hospitalized, and forced to endure a heart transplant at three months old. Most of her childhood was spent inside playing board games and watching TV. Later, when she was older, she claimed to see horrible things and was treated for psychosis. Brenda eventually overcame the troubles of her childhood and moved on with her life.

Donald had offered to help them get the place ready and was flying in on Saturday. He and Terry had worked together at Springside. Donald still taught American history at the school but Springside was rarely a topic of conversation between them. Terry glanced down at Abby’s shopping list on the passenger seat.

“Dammit,” he said as he swung the Jeep into a U-turn on the empty country road.

Abby finished unpacking and setting up their bedroom. Not knowing what type of furnishings they would find, they had left most of their belongings in a storage facility in Denver. Abby found the decorations in the lodge quite nice including the hand-carved log bed that dominated their bedroom.

Thankfully, the house was devoid of the dusty animal heads found in many country places. Abby noticed a thin strap made from a tree branch dangling behind the headboard. She reached and pulled out the strap which had a triangular carved medallion attached. The medallion was thin, but surprisingly heavy with iron inlays depicting two black birds.

She held the medallion up to the rear window and the light danced off the metal as it spun in the sunlight. From the window she saw the trail that led into the western woods and in the distance a modulating light. She placed the medallion into her pocket and the light in the woods disappeared. She retrieved the medallion and held it up to the window and the light was visible again.

CHAPTER NINE

T
erry arrived home from the market and unloaded the groceries. Abby was setting the table when they heard a knock on the door.

“Joseph already?” she said.

Terry left the kitchen and walked through the great room to the front door. Opening the door he found Deputy Ima Rogers. She looked nervous and greeted Terry with a quick smile.

“Mr. James, I understand you had an incident last night?” Ima said as she flipped open a leather-bound notepad.

“Yes Deputy,” Terry answered. “Please come in.”

Ima stepped across the threshold as though stepping onto a ledge.

“Please have a seat,” Terry said.

Ima sat in a chair close to the front door and began. “Mr. James, why don’t you tell me what you saw last night?”

Terry sat down and recounted the evening’s events for the deputy. Ima had her notebook in her lap but didn’t write anything. Within a few minutes she glanced at her watch and said, “Thank you for your time. I will get my report submitted in the morning.” She stood and walked to the front door.

“Good bye,” she said.

“Deputy?” Terry called behind here. “Don’t you want to look around?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ve seen enough.”

Ima climbed into her patrol truck and let out a deep breath. She was shaken and couldn’t leave fast enough.

CHAPTER TEN

J
oseph arrived for dinner at five-thirty sharp carrying wildflowers.

“Joseph, please come in,” Abby said greeting him in the doorway. “Terry is out back grilling dinner. Please have a seat.”

After serving Joseph a glass of tea, Abby sat in a chair across from him. She wore the medallion she’d found behind the bed, Joseph noticed immediately but didn’t comment.

“Abby,” Joseph began. “I think my comments earlier today may have confused you both, but I thought it was important for me to tell you about this area. The place where you came from is a world of black and white, night and day. The world here is very different and those differences must be understood and respected.”

“Joseph,” Abby said, “Terry and I are very sensitive to local traditions and customs.”

Joseph spoke emphatically. “Abby this is not about customs. This is about life and death and the world between them both.”

Abby sat blank faced trying to understand what he was saying.

“Picture the shore of a beach,” Joseph said. “The sand is one part of the beach and the water another. In between is a third part that is constantly changing with the tides which is where the danger lies. The western wood is a place of change and during these times it can be deadly.” Joseph looked up at a portrait of Ted hanging on the wall.

He took a sip of tea and continued. “Abby, I sense something in you, pulling you towards this place of change and it concerns me greatly.”

“Joseph, how can I be pulled to something I don’t even understand?”

“You do not need to understand it. You will find unusual things around here but you will find far worse in those woods after dark.”

“Food’s ready,” Terry said walking into the room.

“Great.” Joseph smiled. “I am appreciative of a home-cooked meal.”

They sat enjoying the meal at a wooden table in the kitchen of the lodge. After the meal Terry and Joseph walked out back and sat on a stone veranda that overlooked the forest. It was dark and the only light was the glowing embers from the charcoal. The woods was a dark stain streaked across the green meadow. The river had stopped its southward flow and was perfectly still. Joseph knew what would happen next, he and Ted had watched the river many times before. The water began moving again, this time flowing north.

“Terry, maybe we should move inside?” Joseph asked.

“Sure,” Terry said.

The two men walked back into the lodge where Abby was finishing up the dinner dishes. Terry led Joseph down a long hallway to the pool room and grabbed a cue.

“Do you play Joseph?” he asked.

“No, but feel free,” Joseph answered.

Terry racked the balls then walked behind the bar and found a bottle of wine.

“Looks like a Black Muscadine,” Terry said looking at the label. “Would you like a glass, Joseph?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

Terry poured two glasses of the bluish wine and handed one to Joseph.

“Cheers,” Terry said.

“Cheers.” Joseph raised his glass.

Terry cracked the cue ball and watched as the other balls settled around the table.

“Joseph,” he said. “We found the room behind the bar. Someone was in the house and left it open.”

Terry put down the pool cue and walked behind the bar. He pressed on the mirror door and it clicked open.

“We found it just like you see it now. Can you tell me what is going on around here?”

Joseph walked around to the open door and examined the mirror. “See this?” he asked. “The only marks on the glass are yours.”

Terry examined the mirror and found a small smudge where he had pressed the dusty mirror.

“I guess you know what is behind this door, then?”

“Yes,” said Joseph. “Ted showed this door to me many years ago. Sections of this lodge are very old. Your uncle thought this section of the house had been used by bootleggers years ago. He told me he had found other places like it over the years but I do not know them all. I do know that this house has a series of canals running underneath its structure. There was a settlement here over a hundred years ago. Your uncle believed the canals were dredged out by the settlers to protect themselves from evil. It’s believed that water and other elements can provide a defense against the darkness.”

Joseph gestured to the open mirror door. “In the cave below we found salts, herbs and symbols. People would float these items in baskets to protect themselves.”

Joseph walked over and closed the mirror door.

“You will find other places like this throughout the house, usually behind mirror or glass. Your uncle believed that the reflective surfaces also created a barrier.”

Joseph finished his wine then extended his hand and said, “Good night. It is getting late and I better be going.”

The two men shook hands, and Terry walked Joseph into the great room.

“Abby?” Terry called out. She appeared from around the corner with a cake on a platter.

“You guys ready for some dessert?” she asked.

“Not for me,” Joseph answered. “It’s late and I must be going. Thank you both for dinner.”

Joseph left through the front door and walked into the night air.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

B
renda Collins looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was pale with jet black hair and looked tired. Last night was like many other nights. Two hours sleep, tossing and turning, until she finally got up and read. She had never slept a full night in her life. Since childhood she had suffered from serious illness and other issues, but it was the other issues that kept her up at night. When she was younger she told the doctors about the whispers and visions she experienced. By the age of ten she realized telling the truth only made things worse. She was fed one medication after another and her parents feared she would be institutionalized.

“What would that cost?” she remembered her mother saying in her shrill voice.

“She is not going anywhere,” her father would answer. “Those damn doctors don’t know their asses from a hole in the ground.”

Brenda’s father drank too much and swore too much, but she loved him all the same. He always had her best interests at heart and may have actually believed in the things she experienced. She thought of them as her distractions.

Brenda turned the page of the book while trying to filter out the whispers. She wouldn’t allow herself a look at the corners of the room. Not because she was afraid, she had gotten over that a long time ago. In the living room of her rented house she knew she would see the repeated scene of a man and woman walking past. The misty gray-blue figures would walk by over and over again like a re-run that never went off the air.