HemmingRAY
Here to get this Blog-a-thon started.
I'm a bulb of few words, but Claudia is making me post reminders before getting our Blog-a-thon started.
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It was a dark and stormy night...
Ray Wattson
“Raining cats and dogs” was the phrase that ran through my mind. Looking out the window of my old Victorian style home, I could barely see the house across the street as the rain fell in thick sheets. Lightening flashed across the dark skies with jagged, heart-stopping regularity. During one of those flashes, I could have sworn I glimpsed someone walking on the sidewalk out front. But, that was near impossible. No sane person would be out in this weather. Would they?
The lights began flickering, not surprisingly, so I began lighting the many candles I had set out earlier in the evening. I’ve learned that there are a few sure things in my life. My dog, Tramp loves me. Bills fill my mailbox. My mother will call every Sunday at 8:00. And, the lights will go out if there is even a hint of wind and rain. Just as I lit the last candle, the lights gave a final warning and went out completely. Suddenly, Tramp rose from her sleeping spot next to my favorite reading chair. She padded toward the huge picture window and I could see she had her hackles up. Lightening flashed, Tramp growled low and deep and I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. Something was very, very wrong!
I was so scared I couldn't move. I could hear the sound of my heart beat faster and faster. It sounded like thunder in my head. Suddenly I heard another thump. Tramp began to stare into a corner as if he say something. I for the life of me saw nothing. Tramp was growling viciously now and I still remained paralyzed with fear. Then without warning my window blew open and the cold rain was blowing in. I know I locked all of the windows! Who or what could have made this happen? Without thinking I ran towards the window and closed it. As I peered outside I saw something running in the woods. It was as if I were dreaming. Tramp stayed on guard by the window as I locked it. I searched for candles and tried my best to think clearly.
Suddenly, I heard a creak in the floor above me. Tramp must have heard it too. Without warning he ran up to the second floor. Before I could follow him I heard him let out a howl and then nothing...... I called his name but he didn't answer. My stomach is in knots as I walk upstairs. Why doesn't that dog just answer me?
There is no reason to jump to conclusions. Let me call out to Tramp again. "Tramp, Tramp come, lets get a cookie." Thank god, Tramp came running down the stairs. He looked at me for a long time....but quickly went to the cookie jar. What a relief. Stormy nights are scary sometimes...but I have been overly jumpy lately.
I started to become out of sorts this summer. I have not pin pointed the reason why....but it may have something to do with turning 40 and re-evaluating my life. I'm not quite sure why it has become a big deal....but I feel unsettled.
I wonder if everyone goes through this stage. I bet everyone does. So I should just get comfortable on the couch with Tramp, a good glass of Merlot and watch the news on TV. The noise from the TV will also drown out silly noises that I have probably been over reacting to. Hmmm life is good, I need to chill out.
As I sip my wine, I decided to watch my favorite show "House". Tramp is right besides me as usual. I laugh to myself thinking how foolish I felt for being so scared earlier. The wine made me very calm and relaxed. So relaxed that I must have fallen asleep. I was awoken by the sound of a scream. It sounded like my neighbor Dorothy. I looked at the old Grandfather clock and noticed it was exactly 1:00 AM. I picked up the phone to call Dorothy and check on her. When I picked up the receiver the phone was dead. Not even static, just silence. I guess the rain must have taken out the phone lines. I searched for my cell phone. It was in my handbag. I dialed Dorothy. The phone rang several times before it was answered. I said, "hello" but heard nothing but gasping on the other end. I kept calling her name but the chilling sound of her gasps was all I could hear. I decided to call 911. When I dialed my phone died before I could reach anyone. Once again I start to feel that uneasy feeling again. I open the front door and look to see if there is anyone on the street. Not a soul to be found. I called Tramp and got my umbrella to see if I could get to Dorothy's. As I walked across the street the trees looked animated. It freaked me out. I ran faster. When I reached her house I noticed the door was slightly opened. As I pushed it opened I called her name.......
"Dorothy, Dorothy, where are you Dorothy?" The house appeared empty. I walked slowly through each room aware of the silence and the creek of my shoes on the hard wood floors. Suddenly I heard a noice coming from the back yard. I cautiously approached the back door only to see...
...the door to the shed slapping back and forth in the fierce wind. The shed, made of wood was showing its age. Windows were broken, the door now longer hinged closed and the wood was worn by the elements so typical of harsh winters in the north.
I convince myself Dorothy is in the back shed digging out an oil lamp. " Dorothy, Dorothy! Come on out. Still no answer. I begin to follow the stepping stones, leading to the shed. The closer I get, the louder the scratching sound becomes. What could that be? My heart starts to race. Do I keep moving forward or do I turn around and run? Convincing myself my imagination must be working over time, I continue walking across the slick stepping stones.
As I approach the shed, I notice large foot prints in the mud. Out of the corner of my eye I spot something red. I bend down to look closer and recognize it as a torn piece of the kitchen apron I have become so used to seeing Dorothy wear.
The shed door creaks as I slowly pull it open. My eyes opened wide and immediately I gasped. Looking down I immediately notice an opening. What? A trap door inside Dororthy's shed? Why? What could it be for?
Suddenly, as I gather the courage to move closer...
the door slams behind me. In that moment of darkness, I feel exhalted. During all this fright, I know that there is an inner calm in me.
Suddenly, a light switches on beyond the trap door. Tramp, my beloved dog scampers ahead. He must know something promising lays below.
Slowly I descend into the dank enclosure. The light is strong, unwavering. I do not dread the light nor do I fear for my friend Dorothy. Rather the glow warms the chill that surrounded me (or maybe I'm still feeling the effects of too much merlot). But I tredge on, somewhat uncatiously.
As I reach the light, I notice Tramp has disappeared. Where did he go? I whistle and nothing but the echo of my call. Again, I call out to Tramp and to Dorothy, but alas no response. Now my calm is starting to fade. My mind wnaders to those many books that I read in my chair. The herione who behalfs untimely death in the cave, the crazy neighbor who has the evil alternate persona. What has alarmed my self...
but my heart is pounding out of my chest. I'm finding it harder to make my feet move forward, and my breathing is coming in shallow gasps. I am standing at the edge of the opening in the floor, but I cannot bear to look down. Suddenly a strange smell is overtaking my senses. I feel dizzy with anticipation and fear...I glance down into the opening and see nothing but blackness. Sitting under a broken window on a ledge is an old flashlight. I reach for it and pray for working batteries. It weakly flickers on and I know I don't have much time before it dies. I rush back to the opening, point the dying light at the bleakness just in time to see a hand, black with dirt, waving up at me. Then the light dies, and the shed door bangs shut behind me leaving me in total darkness...
Again, I am afraid. Total darkness. No response from Tramp, my dog, or Dorothy my neighbor who is possibly in trouble.
I think to myself, what should I do? If I turn around and run, will I even be able to get out of the shed? Did the wind from the storm blow the door shut or did someone slam it behind me?
If I go forward, toward the hand, what will I encounter? Was it Dorothy's hand...or was it someone else's? Why did no one respond when I KNOW someone is in there? Am I going to end up in trouble if I do follow it? But what if I don't?!
Countless questions race through my mind; various scenarios play in my head. Finally, I take a deep breath and decide...
Though I feel rooted to the ground and am completly frozen with fear, I know I must find a source of light. I have to find and help Dorothy. I can't see, but know the door to the shed is behind me, so I slowly uproot my feet and start to back toward the door. I want to run willy nilly back to my house, terrified of finding out whose hand I saw and what might be going on in the pit, but I have to help Dorothy. Was that her hand, or someone elses? Was my imagination playing tricks, or was something sinister happening in my neighborhood? And where was Tramp?
Suddenly I hear a whisper or is it just the wind? The wind seems to whisper my name...what has my fear conjured up? Has Dorothy been injured and only strong enough to call for help in a whisper? There is a rustling in a corner of the shed. "Tramp" "Dorothy" is that you? There is a sudden clap of thunder and the door swings open, allowing just a sliver of light to sneak into the dark corner. I stand, unable to move, not believing what lies before my eyes!
Tramp slowly walks in with Dorothy's favorite ribbon in his mouth. "She never leaves without her ribbon in her hair...," I try to breathe while i think the worst. "Tramp! Where did you find that?" I helplessly ask even though i know Tramp won't answer me. He seems weak; like he fought for the ribbon he now has. I walk to Tramp. He limps towards me. I pet him and take the red ribbon. It's soaked...but still red. "Blood... DOROTHY I'M COMING!" I yell aimlessly into the poorly lit night. Just then i hear a sound. Blood curdling cry. "It's Dorothy, I know it!" I think to myself. Tramp barks loudly. "Shhhhhh Tramp!" I scolded. The crying turns into pleads. "Please help me! Help me!" Dorothy yells. "DOROTHY!!!" i scream while running towards the sound of her cries, but they seem close.... I look around the shed one more time and fear the hand may be Dorothy's capture. I try to find the hand again in hopes that i will see my friend again. I can no longer see nor feel the hand anymore. I run out of the shed to see if whoever the hand belonged to was outside. I hear the cries again. I look towards the shed. I see a man coming out of the shack i just left. He's dragging something with him. Could that be my friend? ...
He continues to drag something out of the shed. I am not sure what to do. Should I run and hide, or wait and see what he will drag out but risk being seen? Oh well, he has already heard my yelling, so I wait to see what it is. Hoping above all hope that it is not Dorothy he will drag out, I look down at the bloody ribbon Tramp had brought me. By this time, I am soaked from the rain, I realize. There is no turning back now. Time seems to stand still. What will it be?
Finally, I can see what he is dragging out of the shed...
In his hands are two large shovels. This worries me even more. What is he doing with shovels in the pouring down rain and why is he taking them from Dorothy’s shed? Suddenly, he turns and stares me deep in the eyes, and then begins to take off running toward the street. I consider my options in this situation. Should I follow after the man or should I run to another house in the neighborhood to call 911? My gut instinct tells me to follow after the man even though I find myself having trouble pulling my feet off the ground to chase after him. I fight back the lump in my throat and the pounding in my chest to find out if he is running toward Dorothy. Before I am able to motivate myself to start moving, Tramp begins to run after the man who exited the back of the shed. I run after both of them, but realize I have wasted so much time making my decision that I have lost all trace of him.
Standing in the middle of the street looking off into the darkness, I hear the ruffle of the leaves in a neighbor’s yard. I look to the left to find nothing but pure darkness. I look the right and see what I think is a shadow running through the tree line behind my neighbor’s home. I run that direction, but do not see Tramp anywhere. I wonder why my dog keeps doing this to me as I yell, “Tramp! Tramp! Where are you tramp?!” I wait to hear a bark, but instead hear what I think is a yelp coming from Tramp as though she is in trouble. I am not sure what direction the yelp came from, but decide to run toward the tree line where I saw the shadow running. I reach the yard of my neighbor and make my way across the threshold of the tree line when I see another treasure of Dorothy’s laying aimlessly at my feet.
There, with blood sprawled across it is the coat I gave to Dorothy a few years ago for Christmas. I know now that something very wrong is happening to my friend and am becoming increasingly worried about her condition. Standing there, with her bloody coat laying at my feet, I realize I am only wasting more time by the second. I am still feeling a great deal of fear, but know I need to find her as soon as I can. That’s when from across the field, I hear...
... through the claps of thunder, the sound of a shovel digging into fresh dirt.
At this point, I must ask myself again ... do I run towards the sound of moving dirt, do I try and find my beloved Tramp, or do I call 911!?!?!?
After realizing that I am doing nothing but killing - ehhh, wasting - even more time, it occurs to me that the sound of flinging dirt is increasing in speed. In fact, it almost sounds as if two shovels are being used.
I cautiously start toward the field, clinging Dorothy's coat to my chest, as much for warmth as for comfort and reassurance.
All at once, with the sound of shovels moving in front of me, I hear rustling through the field to the left of me ...
I run toward the sound of shoveling, and suddenly I trip over a tree branch. My heart is pounding so fast, and I stand back up. Now I am all muddy along with being soaking wet. But, I continue. Running through the trees, I come to the clearing of my neighbors house.
My ears had not deceived me- there were two people digging with the shovels. Next to the man I saw come from the shed was none other than my dear friend Dorothy!
The most horrid scream of my life, the lightening and the rain was very unnerving. All the bravery I had collected was completely drained. My first impulse was to run to my house and dial 911, but in all my experiences the policemen never show up on time. I turned to my right to run to my neighbor’s yard. The lightening flashed at just the correct time and there he was up in my face and with his glaring eyes staring dead at me. I froze…I couldn’t even scream for fear had closed my throat off. He grabbed my around my waist and silently carried me towards the shed. I screamed and kicked and screamed some more with no success at all. The next thing I can remember is being thrown violently into the shed and tumbling down the stairs into the below area of the shed. I hit the ground with an incredible force and I lost my breath. Of course being 40 was not a help and not to mention my lack of body build did not prove to be a plus. The trapdoor slammed shut but I did not waste time to try and get out…I have seen enough movies. I turned to my left and walked down the dark and gloomy corridor. Mold was growing in very dark fuzzy areas all over the place and the smell was horrid. I began to run seeing a trapdoor every few minutes or so. These trapdoors appeared to be connected to people’s sheds. There was a system set up under here. Then I fell, which does not seem like the most important factor except for the fact that I proceeded to roll down a flight of stairs heading into more darkness. I hit the next floor with less force and was greeted by a splash. I was the splash that greeted me was not water, it was blood! I had to fight the impulse to throw up and I pushed onward, the seen before me was one of horror. It was like a beef processing factory with the exception that the bodies hanging from the ceiling were humans. I counted at least 12 and felt sick to my stomach. Had I not been an ER nurse in my younger days the gore may have put me into total shock. I pushed forward only to be greeted by the gruesome seen of a head, an unrecognizable head.......the only thing worse was the room following....I coudln't beleive it......I.........
not only saw bodies dangling from the ceiling, but I saw jars of organs and body parts everywhere.
Some of the jars were old, and some were new and freshly sealed.
Big round eyeballs were starring out at me from behind the murky glass. Blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes.
Ears, of all shapes and sizes were pressed up against the jars, almost listening to my heavy breathing.
Fingers were pointing every-which-way from the canisters lining the shelves.
"What is this," was all I could think to myself, at the same time realizing that I needed to find a way out.
I had lost track of Dorothy...and Tramp. Last I saw them both, they were outside in the field.
I had to find a way out.
I remember seeing all of the trap doors along my way through the corridor. I turned around to begin retracing my steps back up the stairwell, and as I carefully turned (as not to hit my head on a dangling body), I saw Dorothy standing at the bottom of the stairs.
She said...
"So I guess you found..." but I didn't stay to listen to the rest. I bolted in the other direction, down the long dark corridor, which had a distinct smell of death. Past the jars filled with body parts. I ran and ran. Why I ran so fast I'm not sure as I knew with Dorothy's hip she couldn't keep up with me.
Finally I decided to try one of the trap doors....no luck, I tried another...it wouldn't budge, then a third which thudded open in a billow of dust. As I scurried my way to what I felt was safety I slammed the trap door behind me and looked around the shed for something, anything, that I could put over that door to create some time of distance between myself and the place I had just left behind. I saw the family's riding mower in the corner and kicked it into neutral so that I could roll it over the trap door. Just as I went to push it into place I heard the door rattle and slowly open as a hand reached out from the darkness...
Dorothy stood there, half in the shadows. How had she gotten here so quickly? As if to answer my question, she slowly peeled back her wig. Sweat rolled down her clean-shaven skull and a gruesome smile took over her face.
She laughed a deep hearty laugh.....a man's laugh. How was it possible that my friend and neighbor for last seven years was this? I shivered, reached for the starter on the mower and took a deep breath.
I am starting to shake now as my pulse begins to race even more. It feels like my heart is about to leap out of my chest. I try to push down the sobs but I can feel that I am about to lose it completely.
I keep trying to start the mower. It won't turn over. It just keeps chugging.
Dorothy, or whoever this person is laughing louder now. I don't want to look at her. I keep trying the mower while I try to search the room for something else. Anything.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a rake hanging on the wall. In my haste to find anything in the room that could be used as a weapon, I turned my back on Dorothy – this would prove to be a big mistake.
Dorothy then lunged on top of me, and wrapped her hands around my neck. I fought with all my might, and was able to wrestle free from Dorothy by digging my nails into her eyes. As she rolled in agony, I burst through the door and run as fast as I could.
I went through door after door, and somehow found my way outside. At this point, I decided to run as far as I could. I ran until my lungs burned and my muscles cramped. Finally, I couldn’t run anymore and I collapsed in pain.
The next thing I remember, I was lying on a bed in a strange room. Apparently, I had collapsed in someone’s front yard and was found when the homeowner returned from working the night shift.
The next day I told the police everything that happened the previous night. They went to Dorothy’s house to follow up on my claims, but couldn’t find anything! I couldn’t believe it. I knew what I saw, but the officer said that his search of the shed and Dorothy’s yard turned up nothing.
I couldn’t believe it. The officer, who looked very familiar, had to be lying to me. The officer asked me to show him personally where the secret passage in the shed was located. As I led the officer into the shed, it occurred to me why the officer looked so familiar. He was one of the shovelers!
The End!
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